The Complete Writings of Charles Dudley Warner — Volume 3 (2024)

This etext was prepared by David Widger, widger@cecomet.net

The Complete Writings of Charles Dudley Warner Volume 3

[SPELLING: There are many interesting spelling variations from modernday usage in the first two books which remind one that English is nota dead language (grewsome and bowlders I particularly like); but inCaptain Smith and Pocohantas one is taken back into Elizabethan timeswhere spelling of the same word may well vary three times a page andis a matter, as one may say, of "every man for himself." D.W.]

CONTENTS:

IN THE WILDERNESSHOW SPRING CAME IN NEW ENGLANDCAPTAIN JOHN SMITHPOCOHANTAS

HOW I KILLED A BEAR

So many conflicting accounts have appeared about my casual encounterwith an Adirondack bear last summer that in justice to the public, tomyself, and to the bear, it is necessary to make a plain statement ofthe facts. Besides, it is so seldom I have occasion to kill a bear,that the celebration of the exploit may be excused.

The encounter was unpremeditated on both sides. I was not huntingfor a bear, and I have no reason to suppose that a bear was lookingfor me. The fact is, that we were both out blackberrying, and met bychance, the usual way. There is among the Adirondack visitors alwaysa great deal of conversation about bears,—a general expression ofthe wish to see one in the woods, and much speculation as to how aperson would act if he or she chanced to meet one. But bears arescarce and timid, and appear only to a favored few.

It was a warm day in August, just the sort of day when an adventureof any kind seemed impossible. But it occurred to the housekeepersat our cottage—there were four of them—to send me to the clearing,on the mountain back of the house, to pick blackberries. It wasrather a series of small clearings, running up into the forest, muchovergrown with bushes and briers, and not unromantic. Cows pasturedthere, penetrating through the leafy passages from one opening toanother, and browsing among the bushes. I was kindly furnished witha six-quart pail, and told not to be gone long.

Not from any predatory instinct, but to save appearances, I took agun. It adds to the manly aspect of a person with a tin pail if healso carries a gun. It was possible I might start up a partridge;though how I was to hit him, if he started up instead of standingstill, puzzled me. Many people use a shotgun for partridges. Iprefer the rifle: it makes a clean job of death, and does notprematurely stuff the bird with globules of lead. The rifle was aSharps, carrying a ball cartridge (ten to the pound),—an excellentweapon belonging to a friend of mine, who had intended, for a goodmany years back, to kill a deer with it. He could hit a tree with it—if the wind did not blow, and the atmosphere was just right, andthe tree was not too far off—nearly every time. Of course, the treemust have some size. Needless to say that I was at that time nosportsman. Years ago I killed a robin under the most humiliatingcirc*mstances. The bird was in a low cherry-tree. I loaded a bigshotgun pretty full, crept up under the tree, rested the gun on thefence, with the muzzle more than ten feet from the bird, shut botheyes, and pulled the trigger. When I got up to see what hadhappened, the robin was scattered about under the tree in more than athousand pieces, no one of which was big enough to enable anaturalist to decide from it to what species it belonged. Thisdisgusted me with the life of a sportsman. I mention the incident toshow that, although I went blackberrying armed, there was not muchinequality between me and the bear.

In this blackberry-patch bears had been seen. The summer before, ourcolored cook, accompanied by a little girl of the vicinage, waspicking berries there one day, when a bear came out of the woods, andwalked towards them. The girl took to her heels, and escaped. AuntChloe was paralyzed with terror. Instead of attempting to run, shesat down on the ground where she was standing, and began to weep andscream, giving herself up for lost. The bear was bewildered by thisconduct. He approached and looked at her; he walked around andsurveyed her. Probably he had never seen a colored person before,and did not know whether she would agree with him: at any rate, afterwatching her a few moments, he turned about, and went into theforest. This is an authentic instance of the delicate considerationof a bear, and is much more remarkable than the forbearance towardsthe African slave of the well-known lion, because the bear had nothorn in his foot.

When I had climbed the hill,—I set up my rifle against a tree, andbegan picking berries, lured on from bush to bush by the black gleamof fruit (that always promises more in the distance than it realizeswhen you reach it); penetrating farther and farther, through leaf-shaded cow-paths flecked with sunlight, into clearing after clearing.I could hear on all sides the tinkle of bells, the cracking ofsticks, and the stamping of cattle that were taking refuge in thethicket from the flies. Occasionally, as I broke through a covert, Iencountered a meek cow, who stared at me stupidly for a second, andthen shambled off into the brush. I became accustomed to this dumbsociety, and picked on in silence, attributing all the wood noises tothe cattle, thinking nothing of any real bear. In point of fact,however, I was thinking all the time of a nice romantic bear, and asI picked, was composing a story about a generous she-bear who hadlost her cub, and who seized a small girl in this very wood, carriedher tenderly off to a cave, and brought her up on bear's milk andhoney. When the girl got big enough to run away, moved by herinherited instincts, she escaped, and came into the valley to herfather's house (this part of the story was to be worked out, so thatthe child would know her father by some family resemblance, and havesome language in which to address him), and told him where the bearlived. The father took his gun, and, guided by the unfeelingdaughter, went into the woods and shot the bear, who never made anyresistance, and only, when dying, turned reproachful eyes upon hermurderer. The moral of the tale was to be kindness to animals.

I was in the midst of this tale when I happened to look some rodsaway to the other edge of the clearing, and there was a bear! He wasstanding on his hind legs, and doing just what I was doing,—pickingblackberries. With one paw he bent down the bush, while with theother he clawed the berries into his mouth,—green ones and all. Tosay that I was astonished is inside the mark. I suddenly discoveredthat I didn't want to see a bear, after all. At about the samemoment the bear saw me, stopped eating berries, and regarded me witha glad surprise. It is all very well to imagine what you would dounder such circ*mstances. Probably you wouldn't do it: I didn't.The bear dropped down on his forefeet, and came slowly towards me.Climbing a tree was of no use, with so good a climber in the rear.If I started to run, I had no doubt the bear would give chase; andalthough a bear cannot run down hill as fast as he can run up hill,yet I felt that he could get over this rough, brush-tangled groundfaster than I could.

The bear was approaching. It suddenly occurred to me how I coulddivert his mind until I could fall back upon my military base. Mypail was nearly full of excellent berries, much better than the bearcould pick himself. I put the pail on the ground, and slowly backedaway from it, keeping my eye, as beast-tamers do, on the bear. Theruse succeeded.

The bear came up to the berries, and stopped. Not accustomed to eatout of a pail, he tipped it over, and nosed about in the fruit,"gorming" (if there is such a word) it down, mixed with leaves anddirt, like a pig. The bear is a worse feeder than the pig. Wheneverhe disturbs a maple-sugar camp in the spring, he always upsets thebuckets of syrup, and tramples round in the sticky sweets, wastingmore than he eats. The bear's manners are thoroughly disagreeable.

As soon as my enemy's head was down, I started and ran. Somewhat outof breath, and shaky, I reached my faithful rifle. It was not amoment too soon. I heard the bear crashing through the brush afterme. Enraged at my duplicity, he was now coming on with blood in hiseye. I felt that the time of one of us was probably short. Therapidity of thought at such moments of peril is well known. Ithought an octavo volume, had it illustrated and published, soldfifty thousand copies, and went to Europe on the proceeds, while thatbear was loping across the clearing. As I was co*cking the gun, Imade a hasty and unsatisfactory review of my whole life. I noted,that, even in such a compulsory review, it is almost impossible tothink of any good thing you have done. The sins come out uncommonlystrong. I recollected a newspaper subscription I had delayed payingyears and years ago, until both editor and newspaper were dead, andwhich now never could be paid to all eternity.

The bear was coming on.

I tried to remember what I had read about encounters with bears. Icouldn't recall an instance in which a man had run away from a bearin the woods and escaped, although I recalled plenty where the bearhad run from the man and got off. I tried to think what is the bestway to kill a bear with a gun, when you are not near enough to clubhim with the stock. My first thought was to fire at his head; toplant the ball between his eyes: but this is a dangerous experiment.The bear's brain is very small; and, unless you hit that, the beardoes not mind a bullet in his head; that is, not at the time. Iremembered that the instant death of the bear would follow a bulletplanted just back of his fore-leg, and sent into his heart. Thisspot is also difficult to reach, unless the bear stands off, sidetowards you, like a target. I finally determined to fire at himgenerally.

The bear was coming on.

The contest seemed to me very different from anything at Creedmoor.I had carefully read the reports of the shooting there; but it wasnot easy to apply the experience I had thus acquired. I hesitatedwhether I had better fire lying on my stomach or lying on my back,and resting the gun on my toes. But in neither position, Ireflected, could I see the bear until he was upon me. The range wastoo short; and the bear wouldn't wait for me to examine thethermometer, and note the direction of the wind. Trial of theCreedmoor method, therefore, had to be abandoned; and I bitterlyregretted that I had not read more accounts of offhand shooting.

For the bear was coming on.

I tried to fix my last thoughts upon my family. As my family issmall, this was not difficult. Dread of displeasing my wife, orhurting her feelings, was uppermost in my mind. What would be heranxiety as hour after hour passed on, and I did not return! Whatwould the rest of the household think as the afternoon passed, and noblackberries came! What would be my wife's mortification when thenews was brought that her husband had been eaten by a bear! I cannotimagine anything more ignominious than to have a husband eaten by abear. And this was not my only anxiety. The mind at such times isnot under control. With the gravest fears the most whimsical ideaswill occur. I looked beyond the mourning friends, and thought whatkind of an epitaph they would be compelled to put upon the stone.

Something like this:

HERE LIE THE REMAINS

OF
_______________

EATEN BY A BEAR
Aug. 20, 1877

It is a very unheroic and even disagreeable epitaph. That "eaten bya bear" is intolerable. It is grotesque. And then I thought what aninadequate language the English is for compact expression. It wouldnot answer to put upon the stone simply "eaten"; for that isindefinite, and requires explanation: it might mean eaten by acannibal. This difficulty could not occur in the German, where essensignifies the act of feeding by a man, and fressen by a beast. Howsimple the thing would be in German!

HIER LIEGT HOCHWOHLGEBOREN HERR _____ _______

GEFRESSEN
Aug. 20, 1877

That explains itself. The well-born one was eaten by a beast, andpresumably by a bear,—an animal that has a bad reputation since thedays of Elisha.

The bear was coming on; he had, in fact, come on. I judged that hecould see the whites of my eyes. All my subsequent reflections wereconfused. I raised the gun, covered the bear's breast with thesight, and let drive. Then I turned, and ran like a deer. I did nothear the bear pursuing. I looked back. The bear had stopped. Hewas lying down. I then remembered that the best thing to do afterhaving fired your gun is to reload it. I slipped in a charge,keeping my eyes on the bear. He never stirred. I walked backsuspiciously. There was a quiver in the hindlegs, but no othermotion. Still, he might be shamming: bears often sham. To makesure, I approached, and put a ball into his head. He didn't mind itnow: he minded nothing. Death had come to him with a mercifulsuddenness. He was calm in death. In order that he might remain so,I blew his brains out, and then started for home. I had killed abear!

Notwithstanding my excitement, I managed to saunter into the housewith an unconcerned air. There was a chorus of voices:

"Where are your blackberries?"
"Why were you gone so long?"
"Where's your pail?"

"I left the pail."

"Left the pail? What for?"

"A bear wanted it."

"Oh, nonsense!"

"Well, the last I saw of it, a bear had it."

"Oh, come! You didn't really see a bear?"

"Yes, but I did really see a real bear."

"Did he run?"

"Yes: he ran after me."

"I don't believe a word of it. What did you do?"

"Oh! nothing particular—except kill the bear."

Cries of "Gammon!" "Don't believe it!" "Where's the bear?"

"If you want to see the bear, you must go up into the woods. Icouldn't bring him down alone."

Having satisfied the household that something extraordinary hadoccurred, and excited the posthumous fear of some of them for my ownsafety, I went down into the valley to get help. The great bear-hunter, who keeps one of the summer boarding-houses, received mystory with a smile of incredulity; and the incredulity spread to theother inhabitants and to the boarders as soon as the story was known.However, as I insisted in all soberness, and offered to lead them tothe bear, a party of forty or fifty people at last started off withme to bring the bear in. Nobody believed there was any bear in thecase; but everybody who could get a gun carried one; and we went intothe woods armed with guns, pistols, pitchforks, and sticks, againstall contingencies or surprises,—a crowd made up mostly of scoffersand jeerers.

But when I led the way to the fatal spot, and pointed out the bear,lying peacefully wrapped in his own skin, something like terrorseized the boarders, and genuine excitement the natives. It was ano-mistake bear, by George! and the hero of the fight well, I willnot insist upon that. But what a procession that was, carrying thebear home! and what a congregation, was speedily gathered in thevalley to see the bear! Our best preacher up there never drewanything like it on Sunday.

And I must say that my particular friends, who were sportsmen,behaved very well, on the whole. They didn't deny that it was abear, although they said it was small for a bear. Mr… Deane, whois equally good with a rifle and a rod, admitted that it was a veryfair shot. He is probably the best salmon fisher in the UnitedStates, and he is an equally good hunter. I suppose there is noperson in America who is more desirous to kill a moose than he. Buthe needlessly remarked, after he had examined the wound in the bear,that he had seen that kind of a shot made by a cow's horn.

This sort of talk affected me not. When I went to sleep that night,my last delicious thought was, "I've killed a bear!"

II

LOST IN THE WOODS

It ought to be said, by way of explanation, that my being lost in thewoods was not premeditated. Nothing could have been more informal.This apology can be necessary only to those who are familiar with theAdirondack literature. Any person not familiar with it would see theabsurdity of one going to the Northern Wilderness with the deliberatepurpose of writing about himself as a lost man. It may be true thata book about this wild tract would not be recognized as completewithout a lost-man story in it, since it is almost as easy for astranger to get lost in the Adirondacks as in Boston. I merelydesire to say that my unimportant adventure is not narrated in answerto the popular demand, and I do not wish to be held responsible forits variation from the typical character of such experiences.

We had been in camp a week, on the Upper Au Sable Lake. This is agem—emerald or turquoise as the light changes it—set in the virginforest. It is not a large body of water, is irregular in form, andabout a mile and a half in length; but in the sweep of its woodedshores, and the lovely contour of the lofty mountains that guard it,the lake is probably the most charming in America. Why the youngladies and gentlemen who camp there occasionally vex the days andnights with hooting, and singing sentimental songs, is a mystery evento the laughing loon.

I left my companions there one Saturday morning, to return to KeeneValley, intending to fish down the Au Sable River. The Upper Lakedischarges itself into the Lower by a brook which winds through amile and a half of swamp and woods. Out of the north end of theLower Lake, which is a huge sink in the mountains, and mirrors thesavage precipices, the Au Sable breaks its rocky barriers, and flowsthrough a wild gorge, several miles, to the valley below. Betweenthe Lower Lake and the settlements is an extensive forest, traversedby a cart-path, admirably constructed of loose stones, roots oftrees, decayed logs, slippery rocks, and mud. The gorge of the riverforms its western boundary. I followed this caricature of a road amile or more; then gave my luggage to the guide to carry home, andstruck off through the forest, by compass, to the river. I promisedmyself an exciting scramble down this little-frequented canyon, and acreel full of trout. There was no difficulty in finding the river,or in descending the steep precipice to its bed: getting into ascrape is usually the easiest part of it. The river is strewn withbowlders, big and little, through which the amber water rushes withan unceasing thunderous roar, now plunging down in white falls, thenswirling round in dark pools. The day, already past meridian, wasdelightful; at least, the blue strip of it I could see overhead.

Better pools and rapids for trout never were, I thought, as Iconcealed myself behind a bowlder, and made the first cast. There isnothing like the thrill of expectation over the first throw inunfamiliar waters. Fishing is like gambling, in that failure onlyexcites hope of a fortunate throw next time. There was no rise tothe "leader" on the first cast, nor on the twenty-first; and Icautiously worked my way down stream, throwing right and left. WhenI had gone half a mile, my opinion of the character of the pools wasunchanged: never were there such places for trout; but the trout wereout of their places. Perhaps they didn't care for the fly: sometrout seem to be so unsophisticated as to prefer the worm. Ireplaced the fly with a baited hook: the worm squirmed; the watersrushed and roared; a cloud sailed across the blue: no trout rose tothe lonesome opportunity. There is a certain companionship in thepresence of trout, especially when you can feel them flopping in yourfish basket; but it became evident that there were no trout in thiswilderness, and a sense of isolation for the first time came over me.There was no living thing near. The river had by this time entered adeeper gorge; walls of rocks rose perpendicularly on either side,—picturesque rocks, painted many colors by the oxide of iron. It wasnot possible to climb out of the gorge; it was impossible to find away by the side of the river; and getting down the bed, over thefalls, and through the flumes, was not easy, and consumed time.

Was that thunder? Very likely. But thunder showers are alwaysbrewing in these mountain fortresses, and it did not occur to me thatthere was anything personal in it. Very soon, however, the hole inthe sky closed in, and the rain dashed down. It seemed aprovidential time to eat my luncheon; and I took shelter under ascraggy pine that had rooted itself in the edge of the rocky slope.The shower soon passed, and I continued my journey, creeping over theslippery rocks, and continuing to show my confidence in theunresponsive trout. The way grew wilder and more grewsome. Thethunder began again, rolling along over the tops of the mountains,and reverberating in sharp concussions in the gorge: the lightningalso darted down into the darkening passage, and then the rain.Every enlightened being, even if he is in a fisherman's dress ofshirt and pantaloons, hates to get wet; and I ignominiously creptunder the edge of a sloping bowlder. It was all very well at first,until streams of water began to crawl along the face of the rock, andtrickle down the back of my neck. This was refined misery, unheroicand humiliating, as suffering always is when unaccompanied byresignation.

A longer time than I knew was consumed in this and repeated effortsto wait for the slackening and renewing storm to pass away. In theintervals of calm I still fished, and even descended to what asportsman considers incredible baseness: I put a "sinker" on my line.It is the practice of the country folk, whose only object is to getfish, to use a good deal of bait, sink the hook to the bottom of thepools, and wait the slow appetite of the summer trout. I tried thisalso. I might as well have fished in a pork barrel. It is true thatin one deep, black, round pool I lured a small trout from the bottom,and deposited him in the creel; but it was an accident. Though I satthere in the awful silence (the roar of water and thunder onlyemphasized the stillness) full half an hour, I was not encouraged byanother nibble. Hope, however, did not die: I always expected tofind the trout in the next flume; and so I toiled slowly on,unconscious of the passing time. At each turn of the stream Iexpected to see the end, and at each turn I saw a long, narrowstretch of rocks and foaming water. Climbing out of the ravine was,in most places, simply impossible; and I began to look with interestfor a slide, where bushes rooted in the scant earth would enable meto scale the precipice. I did not doubt that I was nearly throughthe gorge. I could at length see the huge form of the Giant of theValley, scarred with avalanches, at the end of the vista; and itseemed not far off. But it kept its distance, as only a mountaincan, while I stumbled and slid down the rocky way. The rain had nowset in with persistence, and suddenly I became aware that it wasgrowing dark; and I said to myself, "If you don't wish to spend thenight in this horrible chasm, you'd better escape speedily."Fortunately I reached a place where the face of the precipice wasbushgrown, and with considerable labor scrambled up it.

Having no doubt that I was within half a mile, perhaps within a fewrods, of the house above the entrance of the gorge, and that, in anyevent, I should fall into the cart-path in a few minutes, I struckboldly into the forest, congratulating myself on having escaped outof the river. So sure was I of my whereabouts that I did not notethe bend of the river, nor look at my compass. The one trout in mybasket was no burden, and I stepped lightly out.

The forest was of hard-wood, and open, except for a thick undergrowthof moose-bush. It was raining,—in fact, it had been raining, moreor less, for a month,—and the woods were soaked. This moose-bush ismost annoying stuff to travel through in a rain; for the broad leavesslap one in the face, and sop him with wet. The way grew everymoment more dingy. The heavy clouds above the thick foliage broughtnight on prematurely. It was decidedly premature to a near-sightedman, whose glasses the rain rendered useless: such a person ought tobe at home early. On leaving the river bank I had borne to the left,so as to be sure to strike either the clearing or the road, and notwander off into the measureless forest. I confidently pursued thiscourse, and went gayly on by the left flank. That I did not come toany opening or path only showed that I had slightly mistaken thedistance: I was going in the right direction.

I was so certain of this that I quickened my pace and got up withalacrity every time I tumbled down amid the slippery leaves andcatching roots, and hurried on. And I kept to the left. It evenoccurred to me that I was turning to the left so much that I mightcome back to the river again. It grew more dusky, and rained moreviolently; but there was nothing alarming in the situation, since Iknew exactly where I was. It was a little mortifying that I hadmiscalculated the distance: yet, so far was I from feeling anyuneasiness about this that I quickened my pace again, and, before Iknew it, was in a full run; that is, as full a run as a person canindulge in in the dusk, with so many trees in the way. Nonervousness, but simply a reasonable desire to get there. I desiredto look upon myself as the person "not lost, but gone before." Astime passed, and darkness fell, and no clearing or road appeared, Iran a little faster. It didn't seem possible that the people hadmoved, or the road been changed; and yet I was sure of my direction.I went on with an energy increased by the ridiculousness of thesituation, the danger that an experienced woodsman was in of gettinghome late for supper; the lateness of the meal being nothing to thegibes of the unlost. How long I kept this course, and how far I wenton, I do not know; but suddenly I stumbled against an ill-placedtree, and sat down on the soaked ground, a trifle out of breath. Itthen occurred to me that I had better verify my course by thecompass. There was scarcely light enough to distinguish the blackend of the needle. To my amazement, the compass, which was made nearGreenwich, was wrong. Allowing for the natural variation of theneedle, it was absurdly wrong. It made out that I was going southwhen I was going north. It intimated that, instead of turning to theleft, I had been making a circuit to the right. According to thecompass, the Lord only knew where I was.

The inclination of persons in the woods to travel in a circle isunexplained. I suppose it arises from the sympathy of the legs withthe brain. Most people reason in a circle: their minds go round andround, always in the same track. For the last half hour I had beensaying over a sentence that started itself: "I wonder where that roadis!" I had said it over till it had lost all meaning. I kept goinground on it; and yet I could not believe that my body had beentraveling in a circle. Not being able to recognize any tracks, Ihave no evidence that I had so traveled, except the general testimonyof lost men.

The compass annoyed me. I've known experienced guides utterlydiscredit it. It couldn't be that I was to turn about, and go theway I had come. Nevertheless, I said to myself, "You'd better keep acool head, my boy, or you are in for a night of it. Better listen toscience than to spunk." And I resolved to heed the impartial needle.I was a little weary of the rough tramping: but it was necessary tobe moving; for, with wet clothes and the night air, I was decidedlychilly. I turned towards the north, and slipped and stumbled along.A more uninviting forest to pass the night in I never saw. Every-thing was soaked. If I became exhausted, it would be necessary tobuild a fire; and, as I walked on, I couldn't find a dry bit of wood.Even if a little punk were discovered in a rotten log I had nohatchet to cut fuel. I thought it all over calmly. I had the usualthree matches in my pocket. I knew exactly what would happen if Itried to build a fire. The first match would prove to be wet. Thesecond match, when struck, would shine and smell, and fizz a little,and then go out. There would be only one match left. Death wouldensue if it failed. I should get close to the log, crawl under myhat, strike the match, see it catch, flicker, almost go out (thereader painfully excited by this time), blaze up, nearly expire, andfinally fire the punk,—thank God! And I said to myself, "The publicdon't want any more of this thing: it is played out. Either have abox of matches, or let the first one catch fire."

In this gloomy mood I plunged along. The prospect was cheerless;for, apart from the comfort that a fire would give, it is necessary,at night, to keep off the wild beasts. I fancied I could hear thetread of the stealthy brutes following their prey. But there was onesource of profound satisfaction,—the catamount had been killed. Mr.Colvin, the triangulating surveyor of the Adirondacks, killed him inhis last official report to the State. Whether he despatched himwith a theodolite or a barometer does not matter: he is officiallydead, and none of the travelers can kill him any more. Yet he hasserved them a good turn.

I knew that catamount well. One night when we lay in the bogs of theSouth Beaver Meadow, under a canopy of mosquitoes, the serenemidnight was parted by a wild and humanlike cry from a neighboringmountain. "That's a cat," said the guide. I felt in a moment thatit was the voice of "modern cultchah." " Modern culture," says Mr.Joseph Cook in a most impressive period,—" modern culture is a childcrying in the wilderness, and with no voice but a cry." Thatdescribes the catamount exactly. The next day, when we ascended themountain, we came upon the traces of this brute,—a spot where he hadstood and cried in the night; and I confess that my hair rose withthe consciousness of his recent presence, as it is said to do when aspirit passes by.

Whatever consolation the absence of catamount in a dark, drenched,and howling wilderness can impart, that I experienced; but I thoughtwhat a satire upon my present condition was modern culture, with itsplain thinking and high living! It was impossible to get muchsatisfaction out of the real and the ideal,—the me and the not-me.At this time what impressed me most was the absurdity of my positionlooked at in the light of modern civilization and all my advantagesand acquirements. It seemed pitiful that society could do absolutelynothing for me. It was, in fact, humiliating to reflect that itwould now be profitable to exchange all my possessions for the woodsinstinct of the most unlettered guide. I began to doubt the value ofthe "culture" that blunts the natural instincts.

It began to be a question whether I could hold out to walk all night;for I must travel, or perish. And now I imagined that a spectre waswalking by my side. This was Famine. To be sure, I had onlyrecently eaten a hearty luncheon: but the pangs of hunger got hold onme when I thought that I should have no supper, no breakfast; and, asthe procession of unattainable meals stretched before me, I grewhungrier and hungrier. I could feel that I was becoming gaunt, andwasting away: already I seemed to be emaciated. It is astonishinghow speedily a jocund, well-conditioned human being can betransformed into a spectacle of poverty and want, Lose a man in theWoods, drench him, tear his pantaloons, get his imagination runningon his lost supper and the cheerful fireside that is expecting him,and he will become haggard in an hour. I am not dwelling upon thesethings to excite the reader's sympathy, but only to advise him, if hecontemplates an adventure of this kind, to provide himself withmatches, kindling wood, something more to eat than one raw trout, andnot to select a rainy night for it.

Nature is so pitiless, so unresponsive, to a person in trouble! Ihad read of the soothing companionship of the forest, the pleasure ofthe pathless woods. But I thought, as I stumbled along in the dismalactuality, that, if I ever got out of it, I would write a letter tothe newspapers, exposing the whole thing. There is an impassive,stolid brutality about the woods that has never been enough insistedon. I tried to keep my mind fixed upon the fact of man's superiorityto Nature; his ability to dominate and outwit her. My situation wasan amusing satire on this theory. I fancied that I could feel asneer in the woods at my detected conceit. There was somethingpersonal in it. The downpour of the rain and the slipperiness of theground were elements of discomfort; but there was, besides these, akind of terror in the very character of the forest itself. I thinkthis arose not more from its immensity than from the kind ofstolidity to which I have alluded. It seemed to me that it would bea sort of relief to kick the trees. I don't wonder that the bearsfall to, occasionally, and scratch the bark off the great pines andmaples, tearing it angrily away. One must have some vent to hisfeelings. It is a common experience of people lost in the woods tolose their heads; and even the woodsmen themselves are not free fromthis panic when some accident has thrown them out of their reckoning.Fright unsettles the judgment: the oppressive silence of the woods isa vacuum in which the mind goes astray. It's a hollow sham, thispantheism, I said; being "one with Nature" is all humbug: I shouldlike to see somebody. Man, to be sure, is of very little account,and soon gets beyond his depth; but the society of the least humanbeing is better than this gigantic indifference. The "rapture on thelonely shore" is agreeable only when you know you can at any momentgo home.

I had now given up all expectation of finding the road, and wassteering my way as well as I could northward towards the valley. Inmy haste I made slow progress. Probably the distance I traveled wasshort, and the time consumed not long; but I seemed to be adding mileto mile, and hour to hour. I had time to review the incidents of theRusso-Turkish war, and to forecast the entire Eastern question; Ioutlined the characters of all my companions left in camp, andsketched in a sort of comedy the sympathetic and disparagingobservations they would make on my adventure; I repeated somethinglike a thousand times, without contradiction, "What a fool you wereto leave the river!" I stopped twenty times, thinking I heard itsloud roar, always deceived by the wind in the tree-tops; I began toentertain serious doubts about the compass,—when suddenly I becameaware that I was no longer on level ground: I was descending a slope;I was actually in a ravine. In a moment more I was in a brook newlyformed by the rain. "Thank Heaven!" I cried: "this I shall follow,whatever conscience or the compass says." In this region, allstreams go, sooner or later, into the valley. This ravine, thisstream, no doubt, led to the river. I splashed and tumbled alongdown it in mud and water. Down hill we went together, the fallshowing that I must have wandered to high ground. When I guessedthat I must be close to the river, I suddenly stepped into mud up tomy ankles. It was the road,—running, of course, the wrong way, butstill the blessed road. It was a mere canal of liquid mud; but manhad made it, and it would take me home. I was at least three milesfrom the point I supposed I was near at sunset, and I had before me atoilsome walk of six or seven miles, most of the way in a ditch; butit is truth to say that I enjoyed every step of it. I was safe; Iknew where I was; and I could have walked till morning. The mind hadagain got the upper hand of the body, and began to plume itself onits superiority: it was even disposed to doubt whether it had been"lost" at all.

III

A FIGHT WITH A TROUT

Trout fishing in the Adirondacks would be a more attractive pastimethan it is but for the popular notion of its danger. The trout is aretiring and harmless animal, except when he is aroused and forcedinto a combat; and then his agility, fierceness, and vindictivenessbecome apparent. No one who has studied the excellent picturesrepresenting men in an open boat, exposed to the assaults of long,enraged trout flying at them through the open air with open mouth,ever ventures with his rod upon the lonely lakes of the forestwithout a certain terror, or ever reads of the exploits of daringfishermen without a feeling of admiration for their heroism. Most oftheir adventures are thrilling, and all of them are, in narration,more or less unjust to the trout: in fact, the object of them seemsto be to exhibit, at the expense of the trout, the shrewdness, theskill, and the muscular power of the sportsman. My own simple storyhas few of these recommendations.

We had built our bark camp one summer and were staying on one of thepopular lakes of the Saranac region. It would be a very prettyregion if it were not so flat, if the margins of the lakes had notbeen flooded by dams at the outlets, which have killed the trees, andleft a rim of ghastly deadwood like the swamps of the under-worldpictured by Dore's bizarre pencil,—and if the pianos at the hotelswere in tune. It would be an excellent sporting region also (forthere is water enough) if the fish commissioners would stock thewaters, and if previous hunters had not pulled all the hair and skinoff from the deers' tails. Formerly sportsmen had a habit ofcatching the deer by the tails, and of being dragged in merewantonness round and round the shores. It is well known that if youseize a deer by this "holt" the skin will slip off like the peel froma banana—This reprehensible practice was carried so far that thetraveler is now hourly pained by the sight of peeled-tail deermournfully sneaking about the wood.

We had been hearing, for weeks, of a small lake in the heart of thevirgin forest, some ten miles from our camp, which was alive withtrout, unsophisticated, hungry trout: the inlet to it was describedas stiff with them. In my imagination I saw them lying there inranks and rows, each a foot long, three tiers deep, a solid mass.The lake had never been visited except by stray sable hunters in thewinter, and was known as the Unknown Pond. I determined to exploreit, fully expecting, however, that it would prove to be a delusion,as such mysterious haunts of the trout usually are. Confiding mypurpose to Luke, we secretly made our preparations, and stole awayfrom the shanty one morning at daybreak. Each of us carried a boat,a pair of blankets, a sack of bread, pork, and maple-sugar; while Ihad my case of rods, creel, and book of flies, and Luke had an axeand the kitchen utensils. We think nothing of loads of this sort inthe woods.

Five miles through a tamarack swamp brought us to the inlet ofUnknown Pond, upon which we embarked our fleet, and paddled down itsvagrant waters. They were at first sluggish, winding among tristefir-trees, but gradually developed a strong current. At the end ofthree miles a loud roar ahead warned us that we were approachingrapids, falls, and cascades. We paused. The danger was unknown. Wehad our choice of shouldering our loads and making a detour throughthe woods, or of "shooting the rapids." Naturally we chose the moredangerous course. Shooting the rapids has often been described, andI will not repeat the description here. It is needless to say that Idrove my frail bark through the boiling rapids, over the successivewaterfalls, amid rocks and vicious eddies, and landed, half a milebelow with whitened hair and a boat half full of water; and that theguide was upset, and boat, contents, and man were strewn along theshore.

After this common experience we went quickly on our journey, and, acouple of hours before sundown, reached the lake. If I live to mydying day, I never shall forget its appearance. The lake is almostan exact circle, about a quarter of a mile in diameter. The forestabout it was untouched by axe, and unkilled by artificial flooding.The azure water had a perfect setting of evergreens, in which all theshades of the fir, the balsam, the pine, and the spruce wereperfectly blended; and at intervals on the shore in the emerald rimblazed the ruby of the cardinal flower. It was at once evident thatthe unruffled waters had never been vexed by the keel of a boat. Butwhat chiefly attracted my attention, and amused me, was the boilingof the water, the bubbling and breaking, as if the lake were a vastkettle, with a fire underneath. A tyro would have been astonished atthis common phenomenon; but sportsmen will at once understand me whenI say that the water boiled with the breaking trout. I studied thesurface for some time to see upon what sort of flies they werefeeding, in order to suit my cast to their appetites; but they seemedto be at play rather than feeding, leaping high in the air ingraceful curves, and tumbling about each other as we see them in theAdirondack pictures.

It is well known that no person who regards his reputation will everkill a trout with anything but a fly. It requires some training onthe part of the trout to take to this method. The uncultivated,unsophisticated trout in unfrequented waters prefers the bait; andthe rural people, whose sole object in going a-fishing appears to beto catch fish, indulge them in their primitive taste for the worm.No sportsman, however, will use anything but a fly, except he happensto be alone.

While Luke launched my boat and arranged his seat in the stern, Iprepared my rod and line. The rod is a bamboo, weighing sevenounces, which has to be spliced with a winding of silk thread everytime it is used. This is a tedious process; but, by fastening thejoints in this way, a uniform spring is secured in the rod. No onedevoted to high art would think of using a socket joint. My line wasforty yards of untwisted silk upon a multiplying reel. The "leader"(I am very particular about my leaders) had been made to order from adomestic animal with which I had been acquainted. The fishermanrequires as good a catgut as the violinist. The interior of thehouse cat, it is well known, is exceedingly sensitive; but it may notbe so well known that the reason why some cats leave the room indistress when a piano-forte is played is because the two instrumentsare not in the same key, and the vibrations of the chords of the oneare in discord with the catgut of the other. On six feet of thissuperior article I fixed three artificial flies,—a simple brownhackle, a gray body with scarlet wings, and one of my own invention,which I thought would be new to the most experienced fly-catcher.The trout-fly does not resemble any known species of insect. It is a"conventionalized" creation, as we say of ornamentation. The theoryis that, fly-fishing being a high art, the fly must not be a tameimitation of nature, but an artistic suggestion of it. It requiresan artist to construct one; and not every bungler can take a bit ofred flannel, a peaco*ck's feather, a flash of tinsel thread, a co*ck'splume, a section of a hen's wing, and fabricate a tiny object thatwill not look like any fly, but still will suggest the universalconventional fly.

I took my stand in the center of the tipsy boat; and Luke shoved off,and slowly paddled towards some lily-pads, while I began casting,unlimbering my tools, as it were. The fish had all disappeared.I got out, perhaps, fifty feet of line, with no response, andgradually increased it to one hundred. It is not difficult to learnto cast; but it is difficult to learn not to snap off the flies atevery throw. Of this, however, we will not speak. I continuedcasting for some moments, until I became satisfied that there hadbeen a miscalculation. Either the trout were too green to know whatI was at, or they were dissatisfied with my offers. I reeled in, andchanged the flies (that is, the fly that was not snapped off). Afterstudying the color of the sky, of the water, and of the foliage, andthe moderated light of the afternoon, I put on a series of beguilers,all of a subdued brilliancy, in harmony with the approach of evening.At the second cast, which was a short one, I saw a splash where theleader fell, and gave an excited jerk. The next instant I perceivedthe game, and did not need the unfeigned "dam" of Luke to convince methat I had snatched his felt hat from his head and deposited it amongthe lilies. Discouraged by this, we whirled about, and paddled overto the inlet, where a little ripple was visible in the tinted light.At the very first cast I saw that the hour had come. Three troutleaped into the air. The danger of this manoeuvre all fishermenunderstand. It is one of the commonest in the woods: three heavytrout taking hold at once, rushing in different directions, smash thetackle into flinders. I evaded this catch, and threw again. Irecall the moment. A hermit thrush, on the tip of a balsam, utteredhis long, liquid, evening note. Happening to look over my shoulder,I saw the peak of Marcy gleam rosy in the sky (I can't help it thatMarcy is fifty miles off, and cannot be seen from this region: theseincidental touches are always used). The hundred feet of silkswished through the air, and the tail-fly fell as lightly on thewater as a three-cent piece (which no slamming will give the weightof a ten) drops upon the contribution plate. Instantly there was arush, a swirl. I struck, and "Got him, by—-!" Never mind what Lukesaid I got him by. "Out on a fly!" continued that irreverent guide;but I told him to back water, and make for the center of the lake.The trout, as soon as he felt the prick of the hook, was off like ashot, and took out the whole of the line with a rapidity that made itsmoke. "Give him the butt!" shouted Luke. It is the usual remark insuch an emergency. I gave him the butt; and, recognizing the factand my spirit, the trout at once sank to the bottom, and sulked. Itis the most dangerous mood of a trout; for you cannot tell what hewill do next. We reeled up a little, and waited five minutes for himto reflect. A tightening of the line enraged him, and he soondeveloped his tactics. Coming to the surface, he made straight forthe boat faster than I could reel in, and evidently with hostileintentions. "Look out for him!" cried Luke as he came flying in theair. I evaded him by dropping flat in the bottom of the boat; and,when I picked my traps up, he was spinning across the lake as if hehad a new idea: but the line was still fast. He did not run far. Igave him the butt again; a thing he seemed to hate, even as a gift.In a moment the evil-minded fish, lashing the water in his rage, wascoming back again, making straight for the boat as before. Luke, whowas used to these encounters, having read of them in the writings oftravelers he had accompanied, raised his paddle in self-defense. Thetrout left the water about ten feet from the boat, and came directlyat me with fiery eyes, his speckled sides flashing like a meteor. Idodged as he whisked by with a vicious slap of his bifurcated tail,and nearly upset the boat. The line was of course slack, and thedanger was that he would entangle it about me, and carry away a leg.This was evidently his game; but I untangled it, and only lost abreast button or two by the swiftly-moving string. The trout plungedinto the water with a hissing sound, and went away again with all theline on the reel. More butt; more indignation on the part of thecaptive. The contest had now been going on for half an hour, and Iwas getting exhausted. We had been back and forth across the lake,and round and round the lake. What I feared was that the trout wouldstart up the inlet and wreck us in the bushes. But he had a newfancy, and began the execution of a manoeuvre which I had never readof. Instead of coming straight towards me, he took a large circle,swimming rapidly, and gradually contracting his orbit. I reeled in,and kept my eye on him. Round and round he went, narrowing hiscircle. I began to suspect the game; which was, to twist my headoff.—When he had reduced the radius of his circle to about twenty-five feet, he struck a tremendous pace through the water. It wouldbe false modesty in a sportsman to say that I was not equal to theoccasion. Instead of turning round with him, as he expected, Istepped to the bow, braced myself, and let the boat swing. Roundwent the fish, and round we went like a top. I saw a line of MountMarcys all round the horizon; the rosy tint in the west made a broadband of pink along the sky above the tree-tops; the evening star wasa perfect circle of light, a hoop of gold in the heavens. We whirledand reeled, and reeled and whirled. I was willing to give themalicious beast butt and line, and all, if he would only go the otherway for a change.

When I came to myself, Luke was gaffing the trout at the boat-side.After we had got him in and dressed him, he weighed three-quarters ofa pound. Fish always lose by being "got in and dressed." It is bestto weigh them while they are in the water. The only really large oneI ever caught got away with my leader when I first struck him. Heweighed ten pounds.

IV

A-HUNTING OF THE DEER

If civilization owes a debt of gratitude to the self-sacrificingsportsmen who have cleared the Adirondack regions of catamounts andsavage trout, what shall be said of the army which has so noblyrelieved them of the terror of the deer? The deer-slayers havesomewhat celebrated their exploits in print; but I think that justicehas never been done them.

The American deer in the wilderness, left to himself, leads acomparatively harmless but rather stupid life, with only suchexcitement as his own timid fancy raises. It was very seldom thatone of his tribe was eaten by the North American tiger. For a wildanimal he is very domestic, simple in his tastes, regular in hishabits, affectionate in his family. Unfortunately for his repose,his haunch is as tender as his heart. Of all wild creatures he isone of the most graceful in action, and he poses with the skill of anexperienced model. I have seen the goats on Mount Pentelicus scatterat the approach of a stranger, climb to the sharp points ofprojecting rocks, and attitudinize in the most self-conscious manner,striking at once those picturesque postures against the sky withwhich Oriental pictures have made us and them familiar. But thewhole proceeding was theatrical.

Greece is the home of art, and it is rare to find anything therenatural and unstudied. I presume that these goats have no nonsenseabout them when they are alone with the goatherds, any more than thegoatherds have, except when they come to pose in the studio; but thelong ages of culture, the presence always to the eye of the bestmodels and the forms of immortal beauty, the heroic friezes of theTemple of Theseus, the marble processions of sacrificial animals,have had a steady molding, educating influence equal to a society ofdecorative art upon the people and the animals who have dwelt in thisartistic atmosphere. The Attic goat has become an artificiallyartistic being; though of course he is not now what he was, as aposer, in the days of Polycletus. There is opportunity for a veryinstructive essay by Mr. E. A. Freeman on the decadence of the Atticgoat under the influence of the Ottoman Turk.

The American deer, in the free atmosphere of our country, and as yetuntouched by our decorative art, is without self-consciousness, andall his attitudes are free and unstudied. The favorite position ofthe deer—his fore-feet in the shallow margin of the lake, among thelily-pads, his antlers thrown back and his nose in the air at themoment he hears the stealthy breaking of a twig in the forest—isstill spirited and graceful, and wholly unaffected by the pictures ofhim which the artists have put upon canvas.

Wherever you go in the Northern forest you will find deer-paths. Soplainly marked and well-trodden are they that it is easy to mistakethem for trails made by hunters; but he who follows one of them issoon in difficulties. He may find himself climbing through cedarthickets an almost inaccessible cliff, or immersed in the intricaciesof a marsh. The "run," in one direction, will lead to water; but, inthe other, it climbs the highest hills, to which the deer retires,for safety and repose, in impenetrable thickets. The hunters, inwinter, find them congregated in " yards," where they can besurrounded and shot as easily as our troops shoot Comanche women andchildren in their winter villages. These little paths are full ofpitfalls among the roots and stones; and, nimble as the deer is, hesometimes breaks one of his slender legs in them. Yet he knows howto treat himself without a surgeon. I knew of a tame deer in asettlement in the edge of the forest who had the misfortune to breakher leg. She immediately disappeared with a delicacy rare in aninvalid, and was not seen for two weeks. Her friends had given herup, supposing that she had dragged herself away into the depths ofthe woods, and died of starvation, when one day she returned, curedof lameness, but thin as a virgin shadow. She had the sense to shunthe doctor; to lie down in some safe place, and patiently wait forher leg to heal. I have observed in many of the more refined animalsthis sort of shyness, and reluctance to give trouble, which exciteour admiration when noticed in mankind.

The deer is called a timid animal, and taunted with possessingcourage only when he is "at bay"; the stag will fight when he can nolonger flee; and the doe will defend her young in the face ofmurderous enemies. The deer gets little credit for this eleventh-hour bravery. But I think that in any truly Christian condition ofsociety the deer would not be conspicuous for cowardice. I supposethat if the American girl, even as she is described in foreignromances, were pursued by bull-dogs, and fired at from behind fencesevery time she ventured outdoors, she would become timid, andreluctant to go abroad. When that golden era comes which the poetsthink is behind us, and the prophets declare is about to be usheredin by the opening of the "vials," and the killing of everybody whodoes not believe as those nations believe which have the most cannon;when we all live in real concord,—perhaps the gentle-hearted deerwill be respected, and will find that men are not more savage to theweak than are the cougars and panthers. If the little spotted fawncan think, it must seem to her a queer world in which the advent ofinnocence is hailed by the baying of fierce hounds and the "ping" ofthe rifle.

Hunting the deer in the Adirondacks is conducted in the most manlyfashion. There are several methods, and in none of them is a fairchance to the deer considered. A favorite method with the natives ispracticed in winter, and is called by them "still hunting." My ideaof still hunting is for one man to go alone into the forest, lookabout for a deer, put his wits fairly against the wits of the keen-scented animal, and kill his deer, or get lost in the attempt. Thereseems to be a sort of fairness about this. It is privateassassination, tempered with a little uncertainty about finding yourman. The still hunting of the natives has all the romance and dangerattending the slaughter of sheep in an abattoir. As the snow getsdeep, many deer congregate in the depths of the forest, and keep aplace trodden down, which grows larger as they tramp down the snow insearch of food. In time this refuge becomes a sort of "yard,"surrounded by unbroken snow-banks. The hunters then make their wayto this retreat on snowshoes, and from the top of the banks pick offthe deer at leisure with their rifles, and haul them away to market,until the enclosure is pretty much emptied. This is one of thesurest methods of exterminating the deer; it is also one of the mostmerciful; and, being the plan adopted by our government forcivilizing the Indian, it ought to be popular. The only people whoobject to it are the summer sportsmen. They naturally want somepleasure out of the death of the deer.

Some of our best sportsmen, who desire to protract the pleasure ofslaying deer through as many seasons as possible, object to thepractice of the hunters, who make it their chief business toslaughter as many deer in a camping season as they can. Their ownrule, they say, is to kill a deer only when they need venison to eat.Their excuse is specious. What right have these sophists to putthemselves into a desert place, out of the reach of provisions, andthen ground a right to slay deer on their own improvidence? If it isnecessary for these people to have anything to eat, which I doubt, itis not necessary that they should have the luxury of venison.

One of the most picturesque methods of hunting the poor deer iscalled " floating." The person, with murder in his heart, chooses acloudy night, seats himself, rifle in hand, in a canoe, which isnoiselessly paddled by the guide, and explores the shore of the lakeor the dark inlet. In the bow of the boat is a light in a "jack,"the rays of which are shielded from the boat and its occupants. Adeer comes down to feed upon the lily-pads. The boat approaches him.He looks up, and stands a moment, terrified or fascinated by thebright flames. In that moment the sportsman is supposed to shoot thedeer. As an historical fact, his hand usually shakes so that hemisses the animal, or only wounds him; and the stag limps away to dieafter days of suffering. Usually, however, the hunters remain outall night, get stiff from cold and the cramped position in the boat,and, when they return in the morning to camp, cloud their futureexistence by the assertion that they "heard a big buck" moving alongthe shore, but the people in camp made so much noise that he wasfrightened off.

By all odds, the favorite and prevalent mode is hunting with dogs.The dogs do the hunting, the men the killing. The hounds are sentinto the forest to rouse the deer, and drive him from his cover.They climb the mountains, strike the trails, and go baying andyelping on the track of the poor beast. The deer have theirestablished runways, as I said; and, when they are disturbed in theirretreat, they are certain to attempt to escape by following one whichinvariably leads to some lake or stream. All that the hunter has todo is to seat himself by one of these runways, or sit in a boat onthe lake, and wait the coming of the pursued deer. The frightenedbeast, fleeing from the unreasoning brutality of the hounds, willoften seek the open country, with a mistaken confidence in thehumanity of man. To kill a deer when he suddenly passes one on arunway demands presence of mind and quickness of aim: to shoot himfrom the boat, after he has plunged panting into the lake, requiresthe rare ability to hit a moving object the size of a deer's head afew rods distant. Either exploit is sufficient to make a hero of acommon man. To paddle up to the swimming deer, and cut his throat,is a sure means of getting venison, and has its charms for some.Even women and doctors of divinity have enjoyed this exquisitepleasure. It cannot be denied that we are so constituted by a wiseCreator as to feel a delight in killing a wild animal which we do notexperience in killing a tame one.

The pleasurable excitement of a deer-hunt has never, I believe, beenregarded from the deer's point of view. I happen to be in aposition, by reason of a lucky Adirondack experience, to present itin that light. I am sorry if this introduction to my little storyhas seemed long to the reader: it is too late now to skip it; but hecan recoup himself by omitting the story.

Early on the morning of the 23d of August, 1877, a doe was feeding onBasin Mountain. The night had been warm and showery, and the morningopened in an undecided way. The wind was southerly: it is what thedeer call a dog-wind, having come to know quite well the meaning of"a southerly wind and a cloudy sky." The sole companion of the doewas her only child, a charming little fawn, whose brown coat was justbeginning to be mottled with the beautiful spots which make thisyoung creature as lovely as the gazelle. The buck, its father, hadbeen that night on a long tramp across the mountain to Clear Pond,and had not yet returned: he went ostensibly to feed on the succulentlily-pads there. "He feedeth among the lilies until the day breakand the shadows flee away, and he should be here by this hour; but hecometh not," she said, "leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon thehills." Clear Pond was too far off for the young mother to go withher fawn for a night's pleasure. It was a fashionable watering-placeat this season among the deer; and the doe may have remembered, notwithout uneasiness, the moonlight meetings of a frivolous societythere. But the buck did not come: he was very likely sleeping underone of the ledges on Tight Nippin. Was he alone? "I charge you, bythe roes and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not nor awake mylove till he please."

The doe was feeding, daintily cropping the tender leaves of the youngshoots, and turning from time to time to regard her offspring. Thefawn had taken his morning meal, and now lay curled up on a bed ofmoss, watching contentedly, with his large, soft brown eyes, everymovement of his mother. The great eyes followed her with an alertentreaty; and, if the mother stepped a pace or two farther away infeeding, the fawn made a half movement, as if to rise and follow her.You see, she was his sole dependence in all the world. But he wasquickly reassured when she turned her gaze on him; and if, in alarm,he uttered a plaintive cry, she bounded to him at once, and, withevery demonstration of affection, licked his mottled skin till itshone again.

It was a pretty picture,—maternal love on the one part, and happytrust on the other. The doe was a beauty, and would have been soconsidered anywhere, as graceful and winning a creature as the sunthat day shone on,—slender limbs, not too heavy flanks, round body,and aristocratic head, with small ears, and luminous, intelligent,affectionate eyes. How alert, supple, free, she was! What untaughtgrace in every movement! What a charming pose when she lifted herhead, and turned it to regard her child! You would have had acompanion picture if you had seen, as I saw that morning, a babykicking about among the dry pine-needles on a ledge above the AuSable, in the valley below, while its young mother sat near, with aneasel before her, touching in the color of a reluctant landscape,giving a quick look at the sky and the outline of the Twin Mountains,and bestowing every third glance upon the laughing boy,—art in itsinfancy.

The doe lifted her head a little with a quick motion, and turned herear to the south. Had she heard something? Probably it was only thesouth wind in the balsams. There was silence all about in theforest. If the doe had heard anything, it was one of the distantnoises of the world. There are in the woods occasional moanings,premonitions of change, which are inaudible to the dull ears of men,but which, I have no doubt, the forest-folk hear and understand. Ifthe doe's suspicions were excited for an instant, they were gone assoon. With an affectionate glance at her fawn, she continued pickingup her breakfast.

But suddenly she started, head erect, eyes dilated, a tremor in herlimbs. She took a step; she turned her head to the south; shelistened intently. There was a sound,—a distant, prolonged note,bell-toned, pervading the woods, shaking the air in smoothvibrations. It was repeated. The doe had no doubt now. She shooklike the sensitive mimosa when a footstep approaches. It was thebaying of a hound! It was far off,—at the foot of the mountain.Time enough to fly; time enough to put miles between her and thehound, before he should come upon her fresh trail; time enough toescape away through the dense forest, and hide in the recesses ofPanther Gorge; yes, time enough. But there was the fawn. The cry ofthe hound was repeated, more distinct this time. The motherinstinctively bounded away a few paces. The fawn started up with ananxious bleat: the doe turned; she came back; she couldn't leave it.She bent over it, and licked it, and seemed to say, "Come, my child:we are pursued: we must go." She walked away towards the west, andthe little thing skipped after her. It was slow going for theslender legs, over the fallen logs, and through the rasping bushes.The doe bounded in advance, and waited: the fawn scrambled after her,slipping and tumbling along, very groggy yet on its legs, and whininga good deal because its mother kept always moving away from it. Thefawn evidently did not hear the hound: the little innocent would evenhave looked sweetly at the dog, and tried to make friends with it, ifthe brute had been rushing upon him. By all the means at her commandthe doe urged her young one on; but it was slow work. She might havebeen a mile away while they were making a few rods. Whenever thefawn caught up, he was quite content to frisk about. He wanted morebreakfast, for one thing; and his mother wouldn't stand still. Shemoved on continually; and his weak legs were tangled in the roots ofthe narrow deer-path.

Shortly came a sound that threw the doe into a panic of terror,—ashort, sharp yelp, followed by a prolonged howl, caught up andreechoed by other bayings along the mountain-side. The doe knew whatthat meant. One hound had caught her trail, and the whole packresponded to the "view-halloo." The danger was certain now; it wasnear. She could not crawl on in this way: the dogs would soon beupon them. She turned again for flight: the fawn, scrambling afterher, tumbled over, and bleated piteously. The baying, emphasized nowby the yelp of certainty, came nearer. Flight with the fawn wasimpossible. The doe returned and stood by it, head erect, andnostrils distended. She stood perfectly still, but trembling.Perhaps she was thinking. The fawn took advantage of the situation,and began to draw his luncheon ration. The doe seemed to have madeup her mind. She let him finish. The fawn, having taken all hewanted, lay down contentedly, and the doe licked him for a moment.Then, with the swiftness of a bird, she dashed away, and in a momentwas lost in the forest. She went in the direction of the hounds.

According to all human calculations, she was going into the jaws ofdeath. So she was: all human calculations are selfish. She keptstraight on, hearing the baying every moment more distinctly. Shedescended the slope of the mountain until she reached the more openforest of hard-wood. It was freer going here, and the cry of thepack echoed more resoundingly in the great spaces. She was going dueeast, when (judging by the sound, the hounds were not far off, thoughthey were still hidden by a ridge) she turned short away to thenorth, and kept on at a good pace. In five minutes more she heardthe sharp, exultant yelp of discovery, and then the deep-mouthed howlof pursuit. The hounds had struck her trail where she turned, andthe fawn was safe.

The doe was in good running condition, the ground was not bad, andshe felt the exhilaration of the chase. For the moment, fear lefther, and she bounded on with the exaltation of triumph. For aquarter of an hour she went on at a slapping pace, clearing themoose-bushes with bound after bound, flying over the fallen logs,pausing neither for brook nor ravine. The baying of the hounds grewfainter behind her. But she struck a bad piece of going, a dead-woodslash. It was marvelous to see her skim over it, leaping among itsintricacies, and not breaking her slender legs. No other livinganimal could do it. But it was killing work. She began to pantfearfully; she lost ground. The baying of the hounds was nearer.She climbed the hard-wood hill at a slower gait; but, once on morelevel, free ground, her breath came back to her, and she stretchedaway with new courage, and maybe a sort of contempt of her heavypursuers.

After running at high speed perhaps half a mile farther, it occurredto her that it would be safe now to turn to the west, and, by a widecircuit, seek her fawn. But, at the moment, she heard a sound thatchilled her heart. It was the cry of a hound to the west of her.The crafty brute had made the circuit of the slash, and cut off herretreat. There was nothing to do but to keep on; and on she went,still to the north, with the noise of the pack behind her. In fiveminutes more she had passed into a hillside clearing. Cows and youngsteers were grazing there. She heard a tinkle of bells. Below her,down the mountain slope, were other clearings, broken by patches ofwoods. Fences intervened; and a mile or two down lay the valley, theshining Au Sable, and the peaceful farmhouses. That way also herhereditary enemies were. Not a merciful heart in all that lovelyvalley. She hesitated: it was only for an instant. She must crossthe Slidebrook Valley if possible, and gain the mountain opposite.She bounded on; she stopped. What was that? From the valley aheadcame the cry of a searching hound. All the devils were loose thismorning. Every way was closed but one, and that led straight downthe mountain to the cluster of houses. Conspicuous among them was aslender white wooden spire. The doe did not know that it was thespire of a Christian chapel. But perhaps she thought that human pitydwelt there, and would be more merciful than the teeth of the hounds.

"The hounds are baying on my track:
O white man! will you send me back?"

In a panic, frightened animals will always flee to human-kind fromthe danger of more savage foes. They always make a mistake in doingso. Perhaps the trait is the survival of an era of peace on earth;perhaps it is a prophecy of the golden age of the future. Thebusiness of this age is murder,—the slaughter of animals, theslaughter of fellow-men, by the wholesale. Hilarious poets who havenever fired a gun write hunting-songs,—Ti-ra-la: and good bishopswrite war-songs,—,Ave the Czar!

The hunted doe went down the "open," clearing the fences splendidly,flying along the stony path. It was a beautiful sight. But considerwhat a shot it was! If the deer, now, could only have been caught INo doubt there were tenderhearted people in the valley who would havespared her life, shut her up in a stable, and petted her. Was thereone who would have let her go back to her waiting-fawn? It is thebusiness of civilization to tame or kill.

The doe went on. She left the sawmill on John's Brook to her right;she turned into a wood-path. As she approached Slide Brook, she sawa boy standing by a tree with a raised rifle. The dogs were not insight; but she could hear them coming down the hill. There was notime for hesitation. With a tremendous burst of speed she clearedthe stream, and, as she touched the bank, heard the "ping" of a riflebullet in the air above her. The cruel sound gave wings to the poorthing. In a moment more she was in the opening: she leaped into thetraveled road. Which way? Below her in the wood was a load of hay:a man and a boy, with pitchforks in their hands, were running towardsher. She turned south, and flew along the street. The town was up.Women and children ran to the doors and windows; men snatched theirrifles; shots were fired; at the big boarding-houses, the summerboarders, who never have anything to do, came out and cheered; acampstool was thrown from a veranda. Some young fellows shooting ata mark in the meadow saw the flying deer, and popped away at her; butthey were accustomed to a mark that stood still. It was all sosudden! There were twenty people who were just going to shoot her;when the doe leaped the road fence, and went away across a marshtoward the foothills. It was a fearful gauntlet to run. But nobodyexcept the deer considered it in that light. Everybody told what hewas just going to do; everybody who had seen the performance was akind of hero,—everybody except the deer. For days and days it wasthe subject of conversation; and the summer boarders kept their gunsat hand, expecting another deer would come to be shot at.

The doe went away to the foothills, going now slower, and evidentlyfatigued, if not frightened half to death. Nothing is so appallingto a recluse as half a mile of summer boarders. As the deer enteredthe thin woods, she saw a rabble of people start across the meadow inpursuit. By this time, the dogs, panting, and lolling out theirtongues, came swinging along, keeping the trail, like stupids, andconsequently losing ground when the deer doubled. But, when the doehad got into the timber, she heard the savage brutes howling acrossthe meadow. (It is well enough, perhaps, to say that nobody offeredto shoot the dogs.)

The courage of the panting fugitive was not gone: she was game to thetip of her high-bred ears. But the fearful pace at which she hadjust been going told on her. Her legs trembled, and her heart beatlike a trip-hammer. She slowed her speed perforce, but still fledindustriously up the right bank of the stream. When she had gone acouple of miles, and the dogs were evidently gaining again, shecrossed the broad, deep brook, climbed the steep left bank, and fledon in the direction of the Mount-Marcy trail. The fording of theriver threw the hounds off for a time. She knew, by their uncertainyelping up and down the opposite bank, that she had a little respite:she used it, however, to push on until the baying was faint in herears; and then she dropped, exhausted, upon the ground.

This rest, brief as it was, saved her life. Roused again by thebaying pack, she leaped forward with better speed, though withoutthat keen feeling of exhilarating flight that she had in the morning.It was still a race for life; but the odds were in her—favor, shethought. She did not appreciate the dogged persistence of thehounds, nor had any inspiration told her that the race is not to theswift.

She was a little confused in her mind where to go; but an instinctkept her course to the left, and consequently farther away from herfawn. Going now slower, and now faster, as the pursuit seemed moredistant or nearer, she kept to the southwest, crossed the streamagain, left Panther Gorge on her right, and ran on by Haystack andSkylight in the direction of the Upper Au Sable Pond. I do not knowher exact course through this maze of mountains, swamps, ravines, andfrightful wildernesses. I only know that the poor thing worked herway along painfully, with sinking heart and unsteady limbs, lyingdown "dead beat" at intervals, and then spurred on by the cry of theremorseless dogs, until, late in the afternoon, she staggered downthe shoulder of Bartlett, and stood upon the shore of the lake. Ifshe could put that piece of water between her and her pursuers, shewould be safe. Had she strength to swim it?

At her first step into the water she saw a sight that sent her backwith a bound. There was a boat mid-lake: two men were in it. Onewas rowing: the other had a gun in his hand. They were lookingtowards her: they had seen her. (She did not know that they hadheard the baying of hounds on the mountains, and had been lying inwait for her an hour.) What should she do? The hounds were drawingnear. No escape that way, even if she could still run. With only amoment's hesitation she plunged into the lake, and struck obliquelyacross. Her tired legs could not propel the tired body rapidly. Shesaw the boat headed for her. She turned toward the centre of thelake. The boat turned. She could hear the rattle of the oarlocks.It was gaining on her. Then there was a silence. Then there was asplash of the water just ahead of her, followed by a roar round thelake, the words "Confound it all!" and a rattle of the oars again.The doe saw the boat nearing her. She turned irresolutely to theshore whence she came: the dogs were lapping the water, and howlingthere. She turned again to the center of the lake.

The brave, pretty creature was quite exhausted now. In a momentmore, with a rush of water, the boat was on her, and the man at theoars had leaned over and caught her by the tail.

"Knock her on the head with that paddle!" he shouted to the gentlemanin the stern.

The gentleman was a gentleman, with a kind, smooth-shaven face, andmight have been a minister of some sort of everlasting gospel. Hetook the paddle in his hand. Just then the doe turned her head, andlooked at him with her great, appealing eyes.

"I can't do it! my soul, I can't do it!" and he dropped the paddle.
"Oh, let her go!"

"Let H. go!" was the only response of the guide as he slung the deerround, whipped out his hunting-knife, and made a pass that severedher jugular.

And the gentleman ate that night of the venison.

The buck returned about the middle of the afternoon. The fawn wasbleating piteously, hungry and lonesome. The buck was surprised. Helooked about in the forest. He took a circuit, and came back. Hisdoe was nowhere to be seen. He looked down at the fawn in a helplesssort of way. The fawn appealed for his supper. The buck had nothingwhatever to give his child,—nothing but his sympathy. If he saidanything, this is what he said: "I'm the head of this family; but,really, this is a novel case. I've nothing whatever for you. Idon't know what to do. I've the feelings of a father; but you can'tlive on them. Let us travel."

The buck walked away: the little one toddled after him. Theydisappeared in the forest.

V

A CHARACTER STUDY

There has been a lively inquiry after the primeval man. Wanted, aman who would satisfy the conditions of the miocene environment, andyet would be good enough for an ancestor. We are not particularabout our ancestors, if they are sufficiently remote; but we musthave something. Failing to apprehend the primeval man, science hassought the primitive man where he exists as a survival in presentsavage races. He is, at best, only a mushroom growth of the recentperiod (came in, probably, with the general raft of mammalian fauna);but he possesses yet some rudimentary traits that may be studied.

It is a good mental exercise to try to fix the mind on the primitiveman divested of all the attributes he has acquired in his struggleswith the other mammalian fauna. Fix the mind on an orange, theordinary occupation of the metaphysician: take from it (withouteating it) odor, color, weight, form, substance, and peel; then letthe mind still dwell on it as an orange. The experiment is perfectlysuccessful; only, at the end of it, you haven't any mind. Betterstill, consider the telephone: take away from it the metallic disk,and the magnetized iron, and the connecting wire, and then let themind run abroad on the telephone. The mind won't come back. I havetried by this sort of process to get a conception of the primitiveman. I let the mind roam away back over the vast geologic spaces,and sometimes fancy I see a dim image of him stalking across theterrace epoch of the quaternary period.

But this is an unsatisfying pleasure. The best results are obtainedby studying the primitive man as he is left here and there in ourera, a witness of what has been; and I find him most to my mind inthe Adirondack system of what geologists call the Champlain epoch. Isuppose the primitive man is one who owes more to nature than to theforces of civilization. What we seek in him are the primal andoriginal traits, unmixed with the sophistications of society, andunimpaired by the refinements of an artificial culture. He wouldretain the primitive instincts, which are cultivated out of theordinary, commonplace man. I should expect to find him, by reason ofan unrelinquished kinship, enjoying a special communion with nature,--admitted to its mysteries, understanding its moods, and able topredict its vagaries. He would be a kind of test to us of what wehave lost by our gregarious acquisitions. On the one hand, therewould be the sharpness of the senses, the keen instincts (which thefox and the beaver still possess), the ability to find one's way inthe pathless forest, to follow a trail, to circumvent the wilddenizens of the woods; and, on the other hand, there would be thephilosophy of life which the primitive man, with little external aid,would evolve from original observation and cogitation. It is ourgood fortune to know such a man; but it is difficult to present himto a scientific and caviling generation. He emigrated from somewhatlimited conditions in Vermont, at an early age, nearly half a centuryago, and sought freedom for his natural development backward in thewilds of the Adirondacks. Sometimes it is a love of adventure andfreedom that sends men out of the more civilized conditions into theless; sometimes it is a constitutional physical lassitude which leadsthem to prefer the rod to the hoe, the trap to the sickle, and thesociety of bears to town meetings and taxes. I think that OldMountain Phelps had merely the instincts of the primitive man, andnever any hostile civilizing intent as to the wilderness into whichhe plunged. Why should he want to slash away the forest and plow upthe ancient mould, when it is infinitely pleasanter to roam about inthe leafy solitudes, or sit upon a mossy log and listen to thechatter of birds and the stir of beasts? Are there not trout in thestreams, gum exuding from the spruce, sugar in the maples, honey inthe hollow trees, fur on the sables, warmth in hickory logs? Willnot a few days' planting and scratching in the "open" yield potatoesand rye? And, if there is steadier diet needed than venison andbear, is the pig an expensive animal? If Old Phelps bowed to theprejudice or fashion of his age (since we have come out of thetertiary state of things), and reared a family, built a frame housein a secluded nook by a cold spring, planted about it some appletrees and a rudimentary garden, and installed a group of flamingsunflowers by the door, I am convinced that it was a concession thatdid not touch his radical character; that is to say, it did notimpair his reluctance to split oven-wood.

He was a true citizen of the wilderness. Thoreau would have likedhim, as he liked Indians and woodchucks, and the smell of pineforests; and, if Old Phelps had seen Thoreau, he would probably havesaid to him, "Why on airth, Mr. Thoreau, don't you live accordin' toyour preachin'?" You might be misled by the shaggy suggestion of OldPhelps's given name—Orson—into the notion that he was a mightyhunter, with the fierce spirit of the Berserkers in his veins.Nothing could be farther from the truth. The hirsute and grislysound of Orson expresses only his entire affinity with the untamedand the natural, an uncouth but gentle passion for the freedom andwildness of the forest. Orson Phelps has only those unconventionaland humorous qualities of the bear which make the animal so belovedin literature; and one does not think of Old Phelps so much as alover of nature,—to use the sentimental slang of the period,—as apart of nature itself.

His appearance at the time when as a "guide" he began to come intopublic notice fostered this impression,—a sturdy figure with longbody and short legs, clad in a woolen shirt and butternut-coloredtrousers repaired to the point of picturesqueness, his headsurmounted by a limp, light-brown felt hat, frayed away at the top,so that his yellowish hair grew out of it like some nameless fern outof a pot. His tawny hair was long and tangled, matted now many yearspast the possibility of being entered by a comb.

His features were small and delicate, and set in the frame of areddish beard, the razor having mowed away a clearing about thesensitive mouth, which was not seldom wreathed with a childlike andcharming smile. Out of this hirsute environment looked the smallgray eyes, set near together; eyes keen to observe, and quick toexpress change of thought; eyes that made you believe instinct cangrow into philosophic judgment. His feet and hands were ofaristocratic smallness, although the latter were not worn away byablutions; in fact, they assisted his toilet to give you theimpression that here was a man who had just come out of the ground,—a real son of the soil, whose appearance was partially explained byhis humorous relation to-soap. "Soap is a thing," he said, "that Ihain't no kinder use for." His clothes seemed to have been put onhim once for all, like the bark of a tree, a long time ago. Theobservant stranger was sure to be puzzled by the contrast of thisrealistic and uncouth exterior with the internal fineness, amountingto refinement and culture, that shone through it all. What communionhad supplied the place of our artificial breeding to this man?

Perhaps his most characteristic attitude was sitting on a log, with ashort pipe in his mouth. If ever man was formed to sit on a log, itwas Old Phelps. He was essentially a contemplative person. Walkingon a country road, or anywhere in the "open," was irksome to him. Hehad a shambling, loose-jointed gait, not unlike that of the bear: hisshort legs bowed out, as if they had been more in the habit ofclimbing trees than of walking. On land, if we may use thatexpression, he was something like a sailor; but, once in the ruggedtrail or the unmarked route of his native forest, he was a differentperson, and few pedestrians could compete with him. The vulgarestimate of his contemporaries, that reckoned Old Phelps "lazy," wassimply a failure to comprehend the conditions of his being. It isthe unjustness of civilization that it sets up uniform and artificialstandards for all persons. The primitive man suffers by them much asthe contemplative philosopher does, when one happens to arrive inthis busy, fussy world.

If the appearance of Old Phelps attracts attention, his voice, whenfirst heard, invariably startles the listener. A small, high-pitched, half-querulous voice, it easily rises into the shrillestfalsetto; and it has a quality in it that makes it audible in all thetempests of the forest, or the roar of rapids, like the piping of aboatswain's whistle at sea in a gale. He has a way of letting itrise as his sentence goes on, or when he is opposed in argument, orwishes to mount above other voices in the conversation, until itdominates everything. Heard in the depths of the woods, quaveringaloft, it is felt to be as much a part of nature, an original force,as the northwest wind or the scream of the hen-hawk. When he ispottering about the camp-fire, trying to light his pipe with a twigheld in the flame, he is apt to begin some philosophical observationin a small, slow, stumbling voice, which seems about to end indefeat; when he puts on some unsuspected force, and the sentence endsin an insistent shriek. Horace Greeley had such a voice, and couldregulate it in the same manner. But Phelps's voice is not seldomplaintive, as if touched by the dreamy sadness of the woodsthemselves.

When Old Mountain Phelps was discovered, he was, as the reader hasalready guessed, not understood by his contemporaries. Hisneighbors, farmers in the secluded valley, had many of them grownthrifty and prosperous, cultivating the fertile meadows, andvigorously attacking the timbered mountains; while Phelps, with notmuch more faculty of acquiring property than the roaming deer, hadpursued the even tenor of the life in the forest on which he set out.They would have been surprised to be told that Old Phelps owned moreof what makes the value of the Adirondacks than all of them puttogether, but it was true. This woodsman, this trapper, this hunter,this fisherman, this sitter on a log, and philosopher, was the realproprietor of the region over which he was ready to guide thestranger. It is true that he had not a monopoly of its geography orits topography (though his knowledge was superior in these respects);there were other trappers, and more deadly hunters, and as intrepidguides: but Old Phelps was the discoverer of the beauties andsublimities of the mountains; and, when city strangers broke into theregion, he monopolized the appreciation of these delights and wondersof nature. I suppose that in all that country he alone had noticedthe sunsets, and observed the delightful processes of the seasons,taken pleasure in the woods for themselves, and climbed mountainssolely for the sake of the prospect. He alone understood what wasmeant by "scenery." In the eyes of his neighbors, who did not knowthat he was a poet and a philosopher, I dare say he appeared to be aslack provider, a rather shiftless trapper and fisherman; and hispassionate love of the forest and the mountains, if it was noticed,was accounted to him for idleness. When the appreciative touristarrived, Phelps was ready, as guide, to open to him all the wondersof his possessions; he, for the first time, found an outlet for hisenthusiasm, and a response to his own passion. It then became knownwhat manner of man this was who had grown up here in thecompanionship of forests, mountains, and wild animals; that thesescenes had highly developed in him the love of beauty, the aestheticsense, delicacy of appreciation, refinement of feeling; and that, inhis solitary wanderings and musings, the primitive man, self-taught,had evolved for himself a philosophy and a system of things. And itwas a sufficient system, so long as it was not disturbed by externalskepticism. When the outer world came to him, perhaps he had aboutas much to give to it as to receive from it; probably more, in hisown estimation; for there is no conceit like that of isolation.

Phelps loved his mountains. He was the discoverer of Marcy, andcaused the first trail to be cut to its summit, so that others couldenjoy the noble views from its round and rocky top. To him it was,in noble symmetry and beauty, the chief mountain of the globe. Tostand on it gave him, as he said, "a feeling of heaven up-h'isted-ness." He heard with impatience that Mount Washington was a thousandfeet higher, and he had a childlike incredulity about the surpassingsublimity of the Alps. Praise of any other elevation he seemed toconsider a slight to Mount Marcy, and did not willingly hear it, anymore than a lover hears the laudation of the beauty of another womanthan the one he loves. When he showed us scenery he loved, it madehim melancholy to have us speak of scenery elsewhere that was finer.And yet there was this delicacy about him, that he never over-praisedwhat he brought us to see, any more than one would over-praise afriend of whom he was fond. I remember that when for the first time,after a toilsome journey through the forest, the splendors of theLower Au Sable Pond broke upon our vision,—that low-lying silverlake, imprisoned by the precipices which it reflected in its bosom,—he made no outward response to our burst of admiration: only a quietgleam of the eye showed the pleasure our appreciation gave him. Assome one said, it was as if his friend had been admired—a friendabout whom he was unwilling to say much himself, but well pleased tohave others praise.

Thus far, we have considered Old Phelps as simply the product of theAdirondacks; not so much a self-made man (as the doubtful phrase hasit) as a natural growth amid primal forces. But our study isinterrupted by another influence, which complicates the problem, butincreases its interest. No scientific observer, so far as we know,has ever been able to watch the development of the primitive man,played upon and fashioned by the hebdomadal iteration of "Greeley'sWeekly Tri-bune." Old Phelps educated by the woods is a fascinatingstudy; educated by the woods and the Tri-bune, he is a phenomenon.No one at this day can reasonably conceive exactly what thisnewspaper was to such a mountain valley as Keene. If it was not aProvidence, it was a Bible. It was no doubt owing to it thatDemocrats became as scarce as moose in the Adirondacks. But it isnot of its political aspect that I speak. I suppose that the mostcultivated and best informed portion of the earth's surface—theWestern Reserve of Ohio, as free from conceit as it is from asuspicion that it lacks anything owes its pre-eminence solely to thiscomprehensive journal. It received from it everything except acollegiate and a classical education,—things not to be desired,since they interfere with the self-manufacture of man. If Greek hadbeen in this curriculum, its best known dictum would have beentranslated, "Make thyself." This journal carried to the communitythat fed on it not only a complete education in all departments ofhuman practice and theorizing, but the more valuable and satisfyingassurance that there was nothing more to be gleaned in the universeworth the attention of man. This panoplied its readers incompleteness. Politics, literature, arts, sciences, universalbrotherhood and sisterhood, nothing was omitted; neither the poetryof Tennyson, nor the philosophy of Margaret Fuller; neither thevirtues of association, nor of unbolted wheat. The laws of politicaleconomy and trade were laid down as positively and clearly as thebest way to bake beans, and the saving truth that the millenniumwould come, and come only when every foot of the earth was subsoiled.

I do not say that Orson Phelps was the product of nature and the Tri-bune: but he cannot be explained without considering these twofactors. To him Greeley was the Tri-bune, and the Tri-bune wasGreeley; and yet I think he conceived of Horace Greeley as somethinggreater than his newspaper, and perhaps capable of producing anotherjournal equal to it in another part of the universe. At any rate, socompletely did Phelps absorb this paper and this personality that hewas popularly known as "Greeley" in the region where he lived.Perhaps a fancied resemblance of the two men in the popular mind hadsomething to do with this transfer of name. There is no doubt thatHorace Greeley owed his vast influence in the country to his genius,nor much doubt that he owed his popularity in the rural districts toJames Gordon Bennett; that is, to the personality of the man whichthe ingenious Bennett impressed upon the country. That he despisedthe conventionalities of society, and was a sloven in his toilet, wasfirmly believed; and the belief endeared him to the hearts of thepeople. To them "the old white coat"—an antique garment ofunrenewed immortality—was as much a subject of idolatry as theredingote grise to the soldiers of the first Napoleon, who had seenit by the campfires on the Po and on the Borysthenes, and believedthat he would come again in it to lead them against the enemies ofFrance. The Greeley of the popular heart was clad as Bennett said hewas clad. It was in vain, even pathetically in vain, that hepublished in his newspaper the full bill of his fashionable tailor(the fact that it was receipted may have excited the animosity ofsome of his contemporaries) to show that he wore the best broadcloth,and that the folds of his trousers followed the city fashion offalling outside his boots. If this revelation was believed, it madeno sort of impression in the country. The rural readers were not tobe wheedled out of their cherished conception of the personalappearance of the philosopher of the Tri-bune.

That the Tri-bune taught Old Phelps to be more Phelps than he wouldhave been without it was part of the independence-teaching mission ofGreeley's paper. The subscribers were an army, in which every manwas a general. And I am not surprised to find Old Phelps latelyrising to the audacity of criticising his exemplar. In somerecently-published observations by Phelps upon the philosophy ofreading is laid down this definition: "If I understand the necessityor use of reading, it is to reproduce again what has been said orproclaimed before. Hence, letters, characters, &c., are arranged inall the perfection they possibly can be, to show how certain languagehas been spoken by the, original author. Now, to reproduce byreading, the reading should be so perfectly like the original that noone standing out of sight could tell the reading from the first timethe language was spoken."

This is illustrated by the highest authority at hand: I have heard asgood readers read, and as poor readers, as almost any one in thisregion. If I have not heard as many, I have had a chance to hearnearly the extreme in variety. Horace Greeley ought to have been agood reader. Certainly but few, if any, ever knew every word of theEnglish language at a glance more readily than he did, or knew themeaning of every mark of punctuation more clearly; but he could notread proper. 'But how do you know?' says one. From the fact I heardhim in the same lecture deliver or produce remarks in his ownparticular way, that, if they had been published properly in print, aproper reader would have reproduced them again the same way. In themidst of those remarks Mr. Greeley took up a paper, to reproduce byreading part of a speech that some one else had made; and his readingdid not sound much more like the man that first read or made thespeech than the clatter of a nail factory sounds like a well-delivered speech. Now, the fault was not because Mr. Greeley did notknow how to read as well as almost any man that ever lived, if notquite: but in his youth he learned to read wrong; and, as it is tentimes harder to unlearn anything than it is to learn it, he, likethousands of others, could never stop to unlearn it, but carried iton through his whole life."

Whether a reader would be thanked for reproducing one of HoraceGreeley's lectures as he delivered it is a question that cannotdetain us here; but the teaching that he ought to do so, I think,would please Mr. Greeley.

The first driblets of professional tourists and summer boarders whoarrived among the Adirondack Mountains a few years ago found OldPhelps the chief and best guide of the region. Those who were eagerto throw off the usages of civilization, and tramp and camp in thewilderness, could not but be well satisfied with the aboriginalappearance of this guide; and when he led off into the woods, axe inhand, and a huge canvas sack upon his shoulders, they seemed to befollowing the Wandering Jew. The contents—of this sack would havefurnished a modern industrial exhibition, provisions cooked and raw,blankets, maple-sugar, tinware, clothing, pork, Indian meal, flour,coffee, tea, &c. Phelps was the ideal guide: he knew every foot ofthe pathless forest; he knew all woodcraft, all the signs of theweather, or, what is the same thing, how to make a Delphic predictionabout it. He was fisherman and hunter, and had been the comrade ofsportsmen and explorers; and his enthusiasm for the beauty andsublimity of the region, and for its untamable wildness, amounted toa passion. He loved his profession; and yet it very soon appearedthat he exercised it with reluctance for those who had neitherideality, nor love for the woods. Their presence was a profanationamid the scenery he loved. To guide into his private and secrethaunts a party that had no appreciation of their loveliness disgustedhim. It was a waste of his time to conduct flippant young men andgiddy girls who made a noisy and irreverent lark of the expedition.And, for their part, they did not appreciate the benefit of beingaccompanied by a poet and a philosopher. They neither understood norvalued his special knowledge and his shrewd observations: they didn'teven like his shrill voice; his quaint talk bored them. It was truethat, at this period, Phelps had lost something of the activity ofhis youth; and the habit of contemplative sitting on a log andtalking increased with the infirmities induced by the hard life ofthe woodsman. Perhaps he would rather talk, either about the woods-life or the various problems of existence, than cut wood, or busyhimself in the drudgery of the camp. His critics went so far as tosay,"Old Phelps is a fraud." They would have said the same ofSocrates. Xantippe, who never appreciated the world in whichSocrates lived, thought he was lazy. Probably Socrates could cook nobetter than Old Phelps, and no doubt went "gumming" about Athens withvery little care of what was in the pot for dinner.

If the summer visitors measured Old Phelps, he also measured them byhis own standards. He used to write out what he called "short-faceddescriptions" of his comrades in the woods, which were never soflattering as true. It was curious to see how the various qualitieswhich are esteemed in society appeared in his eyes, looked at merelyin their relation to the limited world he knew, and judged by theiradaptation to the primitive life. It was a much subtler comparisonthan that of the ordinary guide, who rates his traveler by hisability to endure on a march, to carry a pack, use an oar, hit amark, or sing a song. Phelps brought his people to a test of theirnaturalness and sincerity, tried by contact with the verities of thewoods. If a person failed to appreciate the woods, Phelps had noopinion of him or his culture; and yet, although he was perfectlysatisfied with his own philosophy of life, worked out by closeobservation of nature and study of the Tri-bune, he was always eagerfor converse with superior minds, with those who had the advantage oftravel and much reading, and, above all, with those who had anyoriginal "speckerlation." Of all the society he was ever permittedto enjoy, I think he prized most that of Dr. Bushnell. The doctorenjoyed the quaint and first-hand observations of the old woodsman,and Phelps found new worlds open to him in the wide ranges of thedoctor's mind. They talked by the hour upon all sorts of themes, thegrowth of the tree, the habits of wild animals, the migration ofseeds, the succession of oak and pine, not to mention theology, andthe mysteries of the supernatural.

I recall the bearing of Old Phelps, when, several years ago, heconducted a party to the summit of Mount Marcy by the way he had"bushed out." This was his mountain, and he had a peculiar sense ofownership in it. In a way, it was holy ground; and he would ratherno one should go on it who did not feel its sanctity. Perhaps it wasa sense of some divine relation in it that made him always speak ofit as "Mercy." To him this ridiculously dubbed Mount Marcy wasalways "Mount Mercy." By a like effort to soften the personaloffensiveness of the nomenclature of this region, he invariably spokeof Dix's Peak, one of the southern peaks of the range, as "Dixie."It was some time since Phelps himself had visited his mountain; and,as he pushed on through the miles of forest, we noticed a kind ofeagerness in the old man, as of a lover going to a rendezvous. Alongthe foot of the mountain flows a clear trout stream, secluded andundisturbed in those awful solitudes, which is the "Mercy Brook" ofthe old woodsman. That day when he crossed it, in advance of hiscompany, he was heard to say in a low voice, as if greeting someobject of which he was shyly fond, "So, little brook, do I meet youonce more?" and when we were well up the mountain, and emerged fromthe last stunted fringe of vegetation upon the rock-bound slope, Isaw Old Phelps, who was still foremost, cast himself upon the ground,and heard him cry, with an enthusiasm that was intended for no mortalear, "I'm with you once again!" His great passion very rarely foundexpression in any such theatrical burst. The bare summit that daywas swept by a fierce, cold wind, and lost in an occasional chillingcloud. Some of the party, exhausted by the climb, and shivering inthe rude wind, wanted a fire kindled and a cup of tea made, andthought this the guide's business. Fire and tea were far enough fromhis thought. He had withdrawn himself quite apart, and wrapped in aragged blanket, still and silent as the rock he stood on, was gazingout upon the wilderness of peaks. The view from Marcy is peculiar.It is without softness or relief. The narrow valleys are only darkshadows; the lakes are bits of broken mirror. From horizon tohorizon there is a tumultuous sea of billows turned to stone. Youstand upon the highest billow; you command the situation; you havesurprised Nature in a high creative act; the mighty primal energy hasonly just become repose. This was a supreme hour to Old Phelps.Tea! I believe the boys succeeded in kindling a fire; but theenthusiastic stoic had no reason to complain of want of appreciationin the rest of the party. When we were descending, he told us, withmingled humor and scorn, of a party of ladies he once led to the topof the mountain on a still day, who began immediately to talk aboutthe fashions! As he related the scene, stopping and facing us in thetrail, his mild, far-in eyes came to the front, and his voice rosewith his language to a kind of scream.

"Why, there they were, right before the greatest view they ever saw,talkin' about the fashions!"

Impossible to convey the accent of contempt in which he pronouncedthe word " fashions," and then added, with a sort of regretfulbitterness, "I was a great mind to come down, and leave 'em there."

In common with the Greeks, Old Phelps personified the woods,mountains, and streams. They had not only personality, butdistinctions of sex. It was something beyond the characterization ofthe hunter, which appeared, for instance, when he related a fightwith a panther, in such expressions as, "Then Mr. Panther thought hewould see what he could do," etc. He was in "imaginative sympathy"with all wild things. The afternoon we descended Marcy, we went awayto the west, through the primeval forests, toward Avalanche andColden, and followed the course of the charming Opalescent. When wereached the leaping stream, Phelps exclaimed,

"Here's little Miss Opalescent!"

"Why don't you say Mr. Opalescent?" some one asked.

"Oh, she's too pretty!" And too pretty she was, with her foam-whiteand rainbow dress, and her downfalls, and fountainlike uprising. Abewitching young person we found her all that summer afternoon.

This sylph-like person had little in common with a monstrous ladywhose adventures in the wildernes Phelps was fond of relating. Shewas built some thing on the plan of the mountains, and her ambitionto explore was equal to her size. Phelps and the other guides oncesucceeded in raising her to the top of Marcy; but the feat of gettinga hogshead of molasses up there would have been easier. Inattempting to give us an idea of her magnitude tha night, as we satin the forest camp, Phelps hesitated a moment, while he cast his eyearound the woods: "Waal, there ain't no tree!"

It is only by recalling fragmentary remarks and incidents that I canput the reader in possession of the peculiarities of my subject; andthis involves the wrenching of things out of their natural order andcontinuity, and introducing them abruptly, an abruptness illustratedby the remark of "Old Man Hoskins" (which Phelps liked to quote),when one day he suddenly slipped down a bank into a thicket, andseated himself in a wasps' nest: "I hain't no business here; but hereI be!"

The first time we went into camp on the Upper Au Sable Pond, whichhas been justly celebrated as the most prettily set sheet of water inthe region, we were disposed to build our shanty on the south side,so that we could have in full view the Gothics and that loveliest ofmountain contours. To our surprise, Old Phelps, whose sentimentalweakness for these mountains we knew, opposed this. His favoritecamping ground was on the north side,—a pretty site in itself, butwith no special view. In order to enjoy the lovely mountains, weshould be obliged to row out into the lake: we wanted them alwaysbefore our eyes,—at sunrise and sunset, and in the blaze of noon.With deliberate speech, as if weighing our arguments and disposing ofthem, he replied, "Waal, now, them Gothics ain't the kinder sceneryyou want ter hog down!"

It was on quiet Sundays in the woods, or in talks by the camp-fire,that Phelps came out as the philosopher, and commonly contributed thelight of his observations. Unfortunate marriages, and marriages ingeneral, were, on one occasion, the subject of discussion; and a gooddeal of darkness had been cast on it by various speakers; when Phelpssuddenly piped up, from a log where he had sat silent, almostinvisible, in the shadow and smoke, "Waal, now, when you've said allthere is to be said, marriage is mostly for discipline."

Discipline, certainly, the old man had, in one way or another; andyears of solitary communing in the forest had given him, perhaps, achildlike insight into spiritual concerns. Whether he had formulatedany creed or what faith he had, I never knew. Keene Valley had areputation of not ripening Christians any more successfully thanmaize, the season there being short; and on our first visit it wassaid to contain but one Bible Christian, though I think an accuratecensus disclosed three. Old Phelps, who sometimes made abruptremarks in trying situations, was not included in this census; but hewas the disciple of supernaturalism in a most charming form. I haveheard of his opening his inmost thoughts to a lady, one Sunday, aftera noble sermon of Robertson's had been read in the cathedralstillness of the forest. His experience was entirely first-hand, andrelated with unconsciousness that it was not common to all. Therewas nothing of the mystic or the sentimentalist, only a vividrealism, in that nearness of God of which he spoke,—"as near some-times as those trees,"—and of the holy voice, that, in a time ofinward struggle, had seemed to him to come from the depths of theforest, saying, "Poor soul, I am the way."

In later years there was a "revival" in Keene Valley, the result ofwhich was a number of young "converts," whom Phelps seemed to regardas a veteran might raw recruits, and to have his doubts what sort ofsoldiers they would make.

"Waal, Jimmy," he said to one of them, "you've kindled a pretty goodfire with light wood. That's what we do of a dark night in thewoods, you know but we do it just so as we can look around and findthe solid wood: so now put on your solid wood."

In the Sunday Bible classes of the period Phelps was a perpetualanxiety to the others, who followed closely the printed lessons, andbeheld with alarm his discursive efforts to get into freer air andlight. His remarks were the most refreshing part of the exercises,but were outside of the safe path into which the others thought itnecessary to win him from his "speckerlations." The class were oneday on the verses concerning "God's word" being "written on theheart," and were keeping close to the shore, under the guidance of"Barnes's Notes," when Old Phelps made a dive to the bottom, andremarked that he had "thought a good deal about the expression,'God's word written on the heart,' and had been asking himself howthat was to be done; and suddenly it occurred to him (having beenmuch interested lately in watching the work of a photographer) that,when a photograph is going to be taken, all that has to be done is toput the object in position, and the sun makes the picture; and so herather thought that all we had got to do was to put our hearts inplace, and God would do the writin'."

Phelps's theology, like his science, is first-hand. In the woods,one day, talk ran on the Trinity as being nowhere asserted as adoctrine in the Bible, and some one suggested that the attempt topack these great and fluent mysteries into one word must always bemore or less unsatisfactory. "Ye-es," droned Phelps: "I never couldsee much speckerlation in that expression the Trinity. Why, they'd agood deal better say Legion."

The sentiment of the man about nature, or his poetic sensibility, wasfrequently not to be distinguished from a natural religion, and wasalways tinged with the devoutness of Wordsworth's verse. Climbingslowly one day up the Balcony,—he was more than usually calm andslow,—he espied an exquisite fragile flower in the crevice of arock, in a very lonely spot.

It seems as if," he said, or rather dreamed out, it seems as if the
Creator had kept something just to look at himself."

To a lady whom he had taken to Chapel Pond (a retired but ratheruninteresting spot), and who expressed a little disappointment at itstameness, saying, of this "Why, Mr. Phelps, the principal charm ofthis place seems to be its loneliness,"

"Yes," he replied in gentle and lingering tones, and its nativeness.
It lies here just where it was born."

Rest and quiet had infinite attractions for him. A secluded openingin the woods was a "calm spot." He told of seeing once, or ratherbeing in, a circular rainbow. He stood on Indian Head, overlookingthe Lower Lake, so that he saw the whole bow in the sky and the lake,and seemed to be in the midst of it; "only at one place there was anindentation in it, where it rested on the lake, just enough to keepit from rolling off." This "resting" of the sphere seemed to givehim great comfort.

One Indian-summer morning in October, some ladies found the old mansitting on his doorstep smoking a short pipe.

He gave no sign of recognition except a twinkle of the eye, beingevidently quite in harmony with the peaceful day. They stood there afull minute before he opened his mouth: then he did not rise, butslowly took his pipe from his mouth, and said in a dreamy way,pointing towards the brook,—

"Do you see that tree?" indicating a maple almost denuded of leaves,which lay like a yellow garment cast at its feet. "I've beenwatching that tree all the morning. There hain't been a breath ofwind: but for hours the leaves have been falling, falling, just asyou see them now; and at last it's pretty much bare." And after apause, pensively: "Waal, I suppose its hour had come."

This contemplative habit of Old Phelps is wholly unappreciated by hisneighbors; but it has been indulged in no inconsiderable part of hislife. Rising after a time, he said, "Now I want you to go with meand see my golden city I've talked so much about." He led the way toa hill-outlook, when suddenly, emerging from the forest, thespectators saw revealed the winding valley and its stream. He saidquietly, "There is my golden city." Far below, at their feet, theysaw that vast assemblage of birches and "popples," yellow as gold inthe brooding noonday, and slender spires rising out of the glowingmass. Without another word, Phelps sat a long time in silentcontent: it was to him, as Bunyan says, "a place desirous to be in."

Is this philosopher contented with what life has brought him?Speaking of money one day, when we had asked him if he should dodifferently if he had his life to live over again, he said, "Yes, butnot about money. To have had hours such as I have had in thesemountains, and with such men as Dr. Bushnell and Dr. Shaw and Mr.Twichell, and others I could name, is worth all the money the worldcould give." He read character very well, and took in accurately theboy nature. "Tom" (an irrepressible, rather overdone specimen),—"Tom's a nice kind of a boy; but he's got to come up against asnubbin'-post one of these days."—"Boys!" he once said: "you can'tgit boys to take any kinder notice of scenery. I never yet saw a boythat would look a second time at a sunset. Now, a girl will sometimes; but even then it's instantaneous,—comes an goes like thesunset. As for me," still speaking of scenery, "these mountainsabout here, that I see every day, are no more to me, in one sense,than a man's farm is to him. What mostly interests me now is when Isee some new freak or shape in the face of Nature."

In literature it may be said that Old Phelps prefers the best in thevery limited range that has been open to him. Tennyson is hisfavorite among poets an affinity explained by the fact that they areboth lotos-eaters. Speaking of a lecture-room talk of Mr. Beecher'swhich he had read, he said, "It filled my cup about as full as Icallerlate to have it: there was a good deal of truth in it, and somepoetry; waal, and a little spice, too. We've got to have the spice,you know." He admired, for different reasons, a lecture by Greeleythat he once heard, into which so much knowledge of various kinds wascrowded that he said he "made a reg'lar gobble of it." He was notwithout discrimination, which he exercised upon the local preachingwhen nothing better offered. Of one sermon he said, "The man beganway back at the creation, and just preached right along down; and hedidn't say nothing, after all. It just seemed to me as if he wastryin' to git up a kind of a fix-up."

Old Phelps used words sometimes like algebraic signs, and had a habitof making one do duty for a season together for all occasions."Speckerlation" and "callerlation" and "fix-up" are specimens ofwords that were prolific in expression. An unusual expression, or anunusual article, would be charactcrized as a "kind of a scientificl*terary git-up."

"What is the program for tomorrow?" I once asked him. " Waal, Icallerlate, if they rig up the callerlation they callerlate on, we'llgo to the Boreas." Starting out for a day's tramp in the woods, hewould ask whether we wanted to take a "reg'lar walk, or a randomscoot,"—the latter being a plunge into the pathless forest. When hewas on such an expedition, and became entangled in dense brush, andmaybe a network of "slash" and swamp, he was like an old wizard, ashe looked here and there, seeking a way, peering into the tangle, orwithdrawing from a thicket, and muttering to himself, "There ain't nospeckerlation there." And when the way became altogetherinscrutable,—"Waal, this is a reg'lar random scoot of a rigmarole."As some one remarked, "The dictionary in his hands is like clay inthe hands of the potter." A petrifaction was a kind of a hard-woodchemical git-up."

There is no conceit, we are apt to say, like that born of isolationfrom the world, and there are no such conceited people as those whohave lived all their lives in the woods. Phelps was, however,unsophisticated in his until the advent of strangers into his life,who brought in literature and various other disturbing influences. Iam sorry to say that the effect has been to take off something of thebloom of his simplicity, and to elevate him into an oracle. Isuppose this is inevitable as soon as one goes into print; and Phelpshas gone into print in the local papers. He has been bitten with theliterary "git up." Justly regarding most of the Adirondackliterature as a "perfect fizzle," he has himself projected a work,and written much on the natural history of his region. Long ago hemade a large map of the mountain country; and, until recent surveys,it was the only one that could lay any claim to accuracy. Hishistory is no doubt original in form, and unconventional inexpression. Like most of the writers of the seventeenth century, andthe court ladies and gentlemen of the eighteenth century, he is anindependent speller. Writing of his work on the Adirondacks, hesays, "If I should ever live to get this wonderful thing written, Iexpect it will show one thing, if no more; and that is, that everything has an opposite. I expect to show in this that literature hasan opposite, if I do not show any thing els. We could not enjoy theblessings and happiness of riteousness if we did not know innicutywas in the world: in fact, there would be no riteousness withoutinnicuty." Writing also of his great enjoyment of being in thewoods, especially since he has had the society there of some peoplehe names, he adds, "And since I have Literature, Siance, and Art allspread about on the green moss of the mountain woods or the gravellbanks of a cristle stream, it seems like finding roses, honeysuckels,and violets on a crisp brown cliff in December. You know I don'tbelieve much in the religion of seramony; but any riteous thing thathas life and spirit in it is food for me." I must not neglect tomention an essay, continued in several numbers of his local paper, on"The Growth of the Tree," in which he demolishes the theory of Mr.Greeley, whom he calls "one of the best vegetable philosophers,"about "growth without seed." He treats of the office of sap: "Alltrees have some kind of sap and some kind of operation of sap flowingin their season," the dissemination of seeds, the processes ofgrowth, the power of healing wounds, the proportion of roots tobranches, &c. Speaking of the latter, he says, "I have thought itwould be one of the greatest curiosities on earth to see a thriftygrowing maple or elm, that had grown on a deep soil interval to betwo feet in diameter, to be raised clear into the air with every rootand fibre down to the minutest thread, all entirely cleared of soil,so that every particle could be seen in its natural position. Ithink it would astonish even the wise ones." From his instinctivesympathy with nature, he often credits vegetable organism with"instinctive judgment." " Observation teaches us that a tree isgiven powerful instincts, which would almost appear to amount tojudgment in some cases, to provide for its own wants andnecessities."

Here our study must cease. When the primitive man comes intoliterature, he is no longer primitive.

VI

CAMPING OUT

It seems to be agreed that civilization is kept up only by a constanteffort: Nature claims its own speedily when the effort is relaxed.If you clear a patch of fertile ground in the forest, uproot thestumps, and plant it, year after year, in potatoes and maize, you sayyou have subdued it. But, if you leave it for a season or two, akind of barbarism seems to steal out upon it from the circling woods;coarse grass and brambles cover it; bushes spring up in a wildtangle; the raspberry and the blackberry flower and fruit; and thehumorous bear feeds upon them. The last state of that ground isworse than the first.

Perhaps the cleared spot is called Ephesus. There is a splendid cityon the plain; there are temples and theatres on the hills; thecommerce of the world seeks its port; the luxury of the Orient flowsthrough its marble streets. You are there one day when the sea hasreceded: the plain is a pestilent marsh; the temples, the theatres,the lofty gates have sunken and crumbled, and the wild-brier runsover them; and, as you grow pensive in the most desolate place in theworld, a bandit lounges out of a tomb, and offers to relieve you ofall that which creates artificial distinctions in society. Thehigher the civilization has risen, the more abject is the desolationof barbarism that ensues. The most melancholy spot in theAdirondacks is not a tamarack-swamp, where the traveler wades in mossand mire, and the atmosphere is composed of equal active parts ofblack-flies, mosquitoes, and midges. It is the village of theAdirondack Iron-Works, where the streets of gaunt houses are fallingto pieces, tenantless; the factory-wheels have stopped; the furnacesare in ruins; the iron and wooden machinery is strewn about inhelpless detachment; and heaps of charcoal, ore, and slag proclaim anarrested industry. Beside this deserted village, even Calamity Pond,shallow, sedgy, with its ragged shores of stunted firs, and itsmelancholy shaft that marks the spot where the proprietor of theiron-works accidentally shot himself, is cheerful.

The instinct of barbarism that leads people periodically to throwaside the habits of civilization, and seek the freedom and discomfortof the woods, is explicable enough; but it is not so easy tounderstand why this passion should be strongest in those who are mostrefined, and most trained in intellectual and social fastidiousness.Philistinism and shoddy do not like the woods, unless it becomesfashionable to do so; and then, as speedily as possible, theyintroduce their artificial luxuries, and reduce the life in thewilderness to the vulgarity of a well-fed picnic. It is they whohave strewn the Adirondacks with paper collars and tin cans. Thereal enjoyment of camping and tramping in the woods lies in a returnto primitive conditions of lodging, dress, and food, in as total anescape as may be from the requirements of civilization. And itremains to be explained why this is enjoyed most by those who aremost highly civilized. It is wonderful to see how easily therestraints of society fall off. Of course it is not true thatcourtesy depends upon clothes with the best people; but, with others,behavior hangs almost entirely upon dress. Many good habits areeasily got rid of in the woods. Doubt sometimes seems to be feltwhether Sunday is a legal holiday there. It becomes a question ofcasuistry with a clergyman whether he may shoot at a mark on Sunday,if none of his congregation are present. He intends no harm: he onlygratifies a curiosity to see if he can hit the mark. Where shall hedraw the line? Doubtless he might throw a stone at a chipmunk, orshout at a loon. Might he fire at a mark with an air-gun that makesno noise? He will not fish or hunt on Sunday (although he is no morelikely to catch anything that day than on any other); but may he eattrout that the guide has caught on Sunday, if the guide swears hecaught them Saturday night? Is there such a thing as a vacation inreligion? How much of our virtue do we owe to inherited habits?

I am not at all sure whether this desire to camp outside ofcivilization is creditable to human nature, or otherwise. We hearsometimes that the Turk has been merely camping for four centuries inEurope. I suspect that many of us are, after all, really campingtemporarily in civilized conditions; and that going into thewilderness is an escape, longed for, into our natural and preferredstate. Consider what this " camping out " is, that is confessedly soagreeable to people most delicately reared. I have no desire toexaggerate its delights.

The Adirondack wilderness is essentially unbroken. A few bad roadsthat penetrate it, a few jolting wagons that traverse them, a fewbarn-like boarding-houses on the edge of the forest, where theboarders are soothed by patent coffee, and stimulated to unnaturalgayety by Japan tea, and experimented on by unique cookery, do littleto destroy the savage fascination of the region. In half an hour, atany point, one can put himself into solitude and every desirablediscomfort. The party that covets the experience of the camp comesdown to primitive conditions of dress and equipment. There areguides and porters to carry the blankets for beds, the rawprovisions, and the camp equipage; and the motley party of thetemporarily decivilized files into the woods, and begins, perhaps bya road, perhaps on a trail, its exhilarating and weary march. Theexhilaration arises partly from the casting aside of restraint,partly from the adventure of exploration; and the weariness, from theinterminable toil of bad walking, a heavy pack, and the grim monotonyof trees and bushes, that shut out all prospect, except an occasionalglimpse of the sky. Mountains are painfully climbed, streams forded,lonesome lakes paddled over, long and muddy "carries" traversed.Fancy this party the victim of political exile, banished by the law,and a more sorrowful march could not be imagined; but the voluntaryhardship becomes pleasure, and it is undeniable that the spirits ofthe party rise as the difficulties increase.

For this straggling and stumbling band the world is young again: ithas come to the beginning of things; it has cut loose from tradition,and is free to make a home anywhere: the movement has all the promiseof a revolution. All this virginal freshness invites the primitiveinstincts of play and disorder. The free range of the forestssuggests endless possibilities of exploration and possession.Perhaps we are treading where man since the creation never trodbefore; perhaps the waters of this bubbling spring, which we deepenby scraping out the decayed leaves and the black earth, have neverbeen tasted before, except by the wild denizens of these woods. Wecross the trails of lurking animals,—paths that heighten our senseof seclusion from the world. The hammering of the infrequentwoodpecker, the call of the lonely bird, the drumming of the solitarypartridge,—all these sounds do but emphasize the lonesomeness ofnature. The roar of the mountain brook, dashing over its bed ofpebbles, rising out of the ravine, and spreading, as it were, a mistof sound through all the forest (continuous beating waves that havethe rhythm of eternity in them), and the fitful movement of the air-tides through the balsams and firs and the giant pines,—how thesegrand symphonies shut out the little exasperations of our vexed life!It seems easy to begin life over again on the simplest terms.Probably it is not so much the desire of the congregation to escapefrom the preacher, or of the preacher to escape from himself, thatdrives sophisticated people into the wilderness, as it is theunconquered craving for primitive simplicity, the revolt against theeverlasting dress-parade of our civilization. From this monstrouspomposity even the artificial rusticity of a Petit Trianon is arelief. It was only human nature that the jaded Frenchman of theregency should run away to the New World, and live in a forest-hutwith an Indian squaw; although he found little satisfaction in hisact of heroism, unless it was talked about at Versailles.

When our trampers come, late in the afternoon, to the bank of alovely lake where they purpose to enter the primitive life,everything is waiting for them in virgin expectation. There is alittle promontory jutting into the lake, and sloping down to a sandybeach, on which the waters idly lapse, and shoals of red-fins andshiners come to greet the stranger; the forest is untouched by theaxe; the tender green sweeps the water's edge; ranks of slender firsare marshaled by the shore; clumps of white-birch stems shine insatin purity among the evergreens; the boles of giant spruces,maples, and oaks, lifting high their crowns of foliage, stretch awayin endless galleries and arcades; through the shifting leaves thesunshine falls upon the brown earth; overhead are fragments of bluesky; under the boughs and in chance openings appear the bluer lakeand the outline of the gracious mountains. The discoverers of thisparadise, which they have entered to destroy, note the babbling ofthe brook that flows close at hand; they hear the splash of theleaping fish; they listen to the sweet, metallic song of the eveningthrush, and the chatter of the red squirrel, who angrily challengestheir right to be there. But the moment of sentiment passes. Thisparty has come here to eat and to sleep, and not to encourage Naturein her poetic attitudinizing.

The spot for a shanty is selected. This side shall be its opening,towards the lake; and in front of it the fire, so that the smokeshall drift into the hut, and discourage the mosquitoes; yonder shallbe the cook's fire and the path to the spring. The whole colonybestir themselves in the foundation of a new home,—an enterprisethat has all the fascination, and none of the danger, of a veritablenew settlement in the wilderness. The axes of the guides resound inthe echoing spaces; great trunks fall with a crash; vistas are openedtowards the lake and the mountains. The spot for the shanty iscleared of underbrush; forked stakes are driven into the ground,cross-pieces are laid on them, and poles sloping back to the ground.In an incredible space of time there is the skeleton of a house,which is entirely open in front. The roof and sides must be covered.For this purpose the trunks of great spruces are skinned. Thewoodman rims the bark near the foot of the tree, and again six feetabove, and slashes it perpendicularly; then, with a blunt stick, hecrowds off this thick hide exactly as an ox is skinned. It needs buta few of these skins to cover the roof; and they make a perfectlywater-tight roof, except when it rains. Meantime busy hands havegathered boughs of the spruce and the feathery balsam, and shingledthe ground underneath the shanty for a bed. It is an aromatic bed:in theory it is elastic and consoling. Upon it are spread theblankets. The sleepers, of all sexes and ages, are to lie there in arow, their feet to the fire, and their heads under the edge of thesloping roof. Nothing could be better contrived. The fire is infront: it is not a fire, but a conflagration—a vast heap of greenlogs set on fire—of pitch, and split dead-wood, and cracklingbalsams, raging and roaring. By the time, twilight falls, the cookhas prepared supper. Everything has been cooked in a tin pail and askillet,—potatoes, tea, pork, mutton, slapjacks. You wonder howeverything could have been prepared in so few utensils. When youeat, the wonder ceases: everything might have been cooked in onepail. It is a noble meal; and nobly is it disposed of by theseamateur savages, sitting about upon logs and roots of trees. Neverwere there such potatoes, never beans that seemed to have more of thebean in them, never such curly pork, never trout with more Indian-meal on them, never mutton more distinctly sheepy; and the tea, drunkout of a tin cup, with a lump of maple-sugar dissolved in it,—it isthe sort of tea that takes hold, lifts the hair, and disposes thedrinker to anecdote and hilariousness. There is no deception aboutit: it tastes of tannin and spruce and creosote. Everything, inshort, has the flavor of the wilderness and a free life. It isidyllic. And yet, with all our sentimentality, there is nothingfeeble about the cooking. The slapjacks are a solid job of work,made to last, and not go to pieces in a person's stomach like atrivial bun: we might record on them, in cuneiform characters, ourincipient civilization; and future generations would doubtless turnthem up as Acadian bricks. Good, robust victuals are what theprimitive man wants.

Darkness falls suddenly. Outside the ring of light from ourconflagration the woods are black. There is a tremendous impressionof isolation and lonesomeness in our situation. We are the prisonersof the night. The woods never seemed so vast and mysterious. Thetrees are gigantic. There are noises that we do not understand,—mysterious winds passing overhead, and rambling in the greatgalleries, tree-trunks grinding against each other, undefinable stirsand uneasinesses. The shapes of those who pass into the dimness areoutlined in monstrous proportions. The spectres, seated about in theglare of the fire, talk about appearances and presentiments andreligion. The guides cheer the night with bear-fights, and catamountencounters, and frozen-to-death experiences, and simple tales ofgreat prolixity and no point, and jokes of primitive lucidity. Wehear catamounts, and the stealthy tread of things in the leaves, andthe hooting of owls, and, when the moon rises, the laughter of theloon. Everything is strange, spectral, fascinating.

By and by we get our positions in the shanty for the night, andarrange the row of sleepers. The shanty has become a smoke-house bythis time: waves of smoke roll into it from the fire. It is only bylying down, and getting the head well under the eaves, that one canbreathe. No one can find her "things"; nobody has a pillow. Atlength the row is laid out, with the solemn protestation of intentionto sleep. The wind, shifting, drives away the smoke.

Good-night is said a hundred times; positions are readjusted, morelast words, new shifting about, final remarks; it is all socomfortable and romantic; and then silence. Silence continues for aminute. The fire flashes up; all the row of heads is lifted upsimultaneously to watch it; showers of sparks sail aloft into theblue night; the vast vault of greenery is a fairy spectacle. How thesparks mount and twinkle and disappear like tropical fireflies, andall the leaves murmur, and clap their hands! Some of the sparks donot go out: we see them flaming in the sky when the flame of the firehas died down. Well, good-night, goodnight. More folding of thearms to sleep; more grumbling about the hardness of a hand-bag, orthe insufficiency of a pocket-handkerchief, for a pillow. Good-night. Was that a remark?—something about a root, a stub in theground sticking into the back. "You couldn't lie along a hair?"—-"Well, no: here's another stub. It needs but a moment for theconversation to become general,—about roots under the shoulder,stubs in the back, a ridge on which it is impossible for the sleeperto balance, the non-elasticity of boughs, the hardness of the ground,the heat, the smoke, the chilly air. Subjects of remarks multiply.The whole camp is awake, and chattering like an aviary. The owl isalso awake; but the guides who are asleep outside make more noisethan the owls. Water is wanted, and is handed about in a dipper.Everybody is yawning; everybody is now determined to go to sleep ingood earnest. A last good-night. There is an appalling silence. Itis interrupted in the most natural way in the world. Somebody hasgot the start, and gone to sleep. He proclaims the fact. He seemsto have been brought up on the seashore, and to know how to make allthe deep-toned noises of the restless ocean. He is also like a war-horse; or, it is suggested, like a saw-horse. How malignantly hesnorts, and breaks off short, and at once begins again in anotherkey! One head is raised after another.

"Who is that?"

"Somebody punch him."

"Turn him over."

"Reason with him."

The sleeper is turned over. The turn was a mistake. He was before,it appears, on his most agreeable side. The camp rises inindignation. The sleeper sits up in bewilderment. Before he can gooff again, two or three others have preceded him. They are allalike. You never can judge what a person is when he is awake. Thereare here half a dozen disturbers of the peace who should be put insolitary confinement. At midnight, when a philosopher crawls out tosit on a log by the fire, and smoke a pipe, a duet in tenor andmezzo-soprano is going on in the shanty, with a chorus always comingin at the wrong time. Those who are not asleep want to know why thesmoker doesn't go to bed. He is requested to get some water, tothrow on another log, to see what time it is, to note whether itlooks like rain. A buzz of conversation arises. She is sure sheheard something behind the shanty. He says it is all nonsense."Perhaps, however, it might be a mouse."

"Mercy! Are there mice?"

"Plenty."

"Then that's what I heard nibbling by my head. I shan't sleep awink! Do they bite?"

"No, they nibble; scarcely ever take a full bite out."

"It's horrid!"

Towards morning it grows chilly; the guides have let the fire go out;the blankets will slip down. Anxiety begins to be expressed aboutthe dawn.

"What time does the sun rise?"

"Awful early. Did you sleep?

"Not a wink. And you?"

"In spots. I'm going to dig up this root as soon as it is lightenough."

"See that mist on the lake, and the light just coming on the Gothics!I'd no idea it was so cold: all the first part of the night I wasroasted."

"What were they talking about all night?

When the party crawls out to the early breakfast, after it has washedits faces in the lake, it is disorganized, but cheerful. Nobodyadmits much sleep; but everybody is refreshed, and declares itdelightful. It is the fresh air all night that invigorates; or maybeit is the tea, or the slap-jacks. The guides have erected a table ofspruce bark, with benches at the sides; so that breakfast is taken inform. It is served on tin plates and oak chips. After breakfastbegins the day's work. It may be a mountain-climbing expedition, orrowing and angling in the lake, or fishing for trout in some streamtwo or three miles distant. Nobody can stir far from camp without aguide. Hammocks are swung, bowers are built novel-reading begins,worsted work appears, cards are shuffled and dealt. The day passesin absolute freedom from responsibility to one's self. At night whenthe expeditions return, the camp resumes its animation. Adventuresare recounted, every statement of the narrator being disputed andargued. Everybody has become an adept in woodcraft; but nobodycredits his neighbor with like instinct. Society getting resolvedinto its elements, confidence is gone.

Whilst the hilarious party are at supper, a drop or two of rainfalls. The head guide is appealed to. Is it going to rain? He saysit does rain. But will it be a rainy night? The guide goes down tothe lake, looks at the sky, and concludes that, if the wind shifts ap'int more, there is no telling what sort of weather we shall have.Meantime the drops patter thicker on the leaves overhead, and theleaves, in turn, pass the water down to the table; the sky darkens;the wind rises; there is a kind of shiver in the woods; and we scudaway into the shanty, taking the remains of our supper, and eating itas best we can. The rain increases. The fire sputters and fumes.All the trees are dripping, dripping, and the ground is wet. Wecannot step outdoors without getting a drenching. Like sheep, we arepenned in the little hut, where no one can stand erect. The rainswirls into the open front, and wets the bottom of the blankets. Thesmoke drives in. We curl up, and enjoy ourselves. The guides atlength conclude that it is going to be damp. The dismal situationsets us all into good spirits; and it is later than the night beforewhen we crawl under our blankets, sure this time of a sound sleep,lulled by the storm and the rain resounding on the bark roof. Howmuch better off we are than many a shelter-less wretch! We are assnug as dry herrings. At the moment, however, of dropping off tosleep, somebody unfortunately notes a drop of water on his face; thisis followed by another drop; in an instant a stream is established.He moves his head to a dry place. Scarcely has he done so, when hefeels a dampness in his back. Reaching his hand outside, he finds apuddle of water soaking through his blanket. By this time, somebodyinquires if it is possible that the roof leaks. One man has a streamof water under him; another says it is coming into his ear. The roofappears to be a discriminating sieve. Those who are dry see no needof such a fuss. The man in the corner spreads his umbrella, and theprotective measure is resented by his neighbor. In the darknessthere is recrimination. One of the guides, who is summoned, suggeststhat the rubber blankets be passed out, and spread over the roof.The inmates dislike the proposal, saying that a shower-bath is noworse than a tub-bath. The rain continues to soak down. The fire isonly half alive. The bedding is damp. Some sit up, if they can finda dry spot to sit on, and smoke. Heartless observations are made. Afew sleep. And the night wears on. The morning opens cheerless.The sky is still leaking, and so is the shanty. The guides bring ina half-cooked breakfast. The roof is patched up. There are revivingsigns of breaking away, delusive signs that create momentaryexhilaration. Even if the storm clears, the woods are soaked. Thereis no chance of stirring. The world is only ten feet square.

This life, without responsibility or clean clothes, may continue aslong as the reader desires. There are, those who would like to livein this free fashion forever, taking rain and sun as heaven pleases;and there are some souls so constituted that they cannot exist morethan three days without their worldly—baggage. Taking the partyaltogether, from one cause or another it is likely to strike campsooner than was intended. And the stricken camp is a melancholysight. The woods have been despoiled; the stumps are ugly; thebushes are scorched; the pine-leaf-strewn earth is trodden into mire;the landing looks like a cattle-ford; the ground is littered with allthe unsightly dibris of a hand-to-hand life; the dismantled shanty isa shabby object; the charred and blackened logs, where the fireblazed, suggest the extinction of family life. Man has wrought hisusual wrong upon Nature, and he can save his self-respect only bymoving to virgin forests.

And move to them he will, the next season, if not this. For he whohas once experienced the fascination of the woods-life never escapesits enticement: in the memory nothing remains but its charm.

VII

A WILDERNESS ROMANCE

At the south end of Keene Valley, in the Adirondacks, stands NoonMark, a shapely peak thirty-five hundred feet above the sea, which,with the aid of the sun, tells the Keene people when it is time toeat dinner. From its summit you look south into a vast wildernessbasin, a great stretch of forest little trodden, and out of whosebosom you can hear from the heights on a still day the loud murmur ofthe Boquet. This basin of unbroken green rises away to the south andsoutheast into the rocky heights of Dix's Peak and Nipple Top,—thelatter a local name which neither the mountain nor the fastidioustourist is able to shake off. Indeed, so long as the mountain keepsits present shape as seen from the southern lowlands, it cannot geton without this name.

These two mountains, which belong to the great system of which Marcyis the giant centre, and are in the neighborhood of five thousandfeet high, on the southern outposts of the great mountains, form thegate-posts of the pass into the south country. This opening betweenthem is called Hunter's Pass. It is the most elevated and one of thewildest of the mountain passes. Its summit is thirty-five hundredfeet high. In former years it is presumed the hunters occasionallyfollowed the game through; but latterly it is rare to find a guidewho has been that way, and the tin-can and paper-collar tourists havenot yet made it a runway. This seclusion is due not to any inherentdifficulty of travel, but to the fact that it lies a little out ofthe way.

We went through it last summer; making our way into the jaws from thefoot of the great slides on Dix, keeping along the ragged spurs ofthe mountain through the virgin forest. The pass is narrow, walledin on each side by precipices of granite, and blocked up withbowlders and fallen trees, and beset with pitfalls in the roadsingeniously covered with fair-seeming moss. When the climberoccasionally loses sight of a leg in one of these treacherous holes,and feels a cold sensation in his foot, he learns that he has dippedinto the sources of the Boquet, which emerges lower down into fallsand rapids, and, recruited by creeping tributaries, goes brawlingthrough the forest basin, and at last comes out an amiable and boat-bearing stream in the valley of Elizabeth Town. From the summitanother rivulet trickles away to the south, and finds its way througha frightful tamarack swamp, and through woods scarred by ruthlesslumbering, to Mud Pond, a quiet body of water, with a ghastly fringeof dead trees, upon which people of grand intentions and weakvocabulary are trying to fix the name of Elk Lake. The descent ofthe pass on that side is precipitous and exciting. The way is in thestream itself; and a considerable portion of the distance we swungourselves down the faces of considerable falls, and tumbled downcascades. The descent, however, was made easy by the fact that itrained, and every footstep was yielding and slippery. Why sanepeople, often church-members respectably connected, will subjectthemselves to this sort of treatment,—be wet to the skin, bruised bythe rocks, and flung about among the bushes and dead wood until themost necessary part of their apparel hangs in shreds,—is one of thedelightful mysteries of these woods. I suspect that every man is atheart a roving animal, and likes, at intervals, to revert to thecondition of the bear and the catamount.

There is no trail through Hunter's Pass, which, as I have intimated,is the least frequented portion of this wilderness. Yet we weresurprised to find a well-beaten path a considerable portion of theway and wherever a path is possible. It was not a mere deer'srunway: these are found everywhere in the mountains. It is troddenby other and larger animals, and is, no doubt, the highway of beasts.It bears marks of having been so for a long period, and probably aperiod long ago. Large animals are not common in these woods now,and you seldom meet anything fiercer than the timid deer and thegentle bear. But in days gone by, Hunter's Pass was the highway ofthe whole caravan of animals who were continually going backward; andforwards, in the aimless, roaming way that beasts have, between MudPond and the Boquet Basin. I think I can see now the procession ofthem between the heights of Dix and Nipple Top; the elk and the mooseshambling along, cropping the twigs; the heavy bear lounging by withhis exploring nose; the frightened deer trembling at every twig thatsnapped beneath his little hoofs, intent on the lily-pads of thepond; the raccoon and the hedgehog, sidling along; and the velvet-footed panther, insouciant and conscienceless, scenting the path witha curious glow in his eye, or crouching in an overhanging tree readyto drop into the procession at the right moment. Night and day, yearafter year, I see them going by, watched by the red fox and thecomfortably clad sable, and grinned at by the black cat,—theinnocent, the vicious, the timid and the savage, the shy and thebold, the chattering slanderer and the screaming prowler, theindustrious and the peaceful, the tree-top critic and the crawlingbiter,—just as it is elsewhere. It makes me blush for my specieswhen I think of it. This charming society is nearly extinct now: ofthe larger animals there only remain the bear, who minds his ownbusiness more thoroughly than any person I know, and the deer, whowould like to be friendly with men, but whose winning face and gentleways are no protection from the savageness of man, and who is treatedwith the same unpitying destruction as the snarling catamount. Ihave read in history that the amiable natives of Hispaniola fared nobetter at the hands of the brutal Spaniards than the fierce andwarlike Caribs. As society is at present constituted in Christiancountries, I would rather for my own security be a cougar than afawn.

There is not much of romantic interest in the Adirondacks. Out ofthe books of daring travelers, nothing. I do not know that the KeeneValley has any history. The mountains always stood here, and the AuSable, flowing now in shallows and now in rippling reaches over thesands and pebbles, has for ages filled the air with continuous andsoothing sounds. Before the Vermonters broke into it some three-quarters of a century ago, and made meadows of its bottoms and sugar-camps of its fringing woods, I suppose the red Indian lived here inhis usual discomfort, and was as restless as his successors, thesummer boarders. But the streams were full of trout then, and themoose and the elk left their broad tracks on the sands of the river.But of the Indian there is no trace. There is a mound in the valley,much like a Tel in the country of Bashan beyond the Jordan, that mayhave been built by some pre-historic race, and may contain treasureand the seated figure of a preserved chieftain on his slow way toParadise. What the gentle and accomplished race of the Mound-Builders should want in this savage region where the frost kills theearly potatoes and stunts the scanty oats, I do not know. I haveseen no trace of them, except this Tel, and one other slight relic,which came to light last summer, and is not enough to found thehistory of a race upon.

Some workingmen, getting stone from the hillside on one of the littleplateaus, for a house-cellar, discovered, partly embedded, a piece ofpottery unique in this region. With the unerring instinct of workmenin regard to antiquities, they thrust a crowbar through it, and brokethe bowl into several pieces. The joint fragments, however, give usthe form of the dish. It is a bowl about nine inches high and eightinches across, made of red clay, baked but not glazed. The bottom isround, the top flares into four comers, and the rim is rudely butrather artistically ornamented with criss-cross scratches made whenthe clay was soft. The vessel is made of clay not found about here,and it is one that the Indians formerly living here could not form.Was it brought here by roving Indians who may have made an expeditionto the Ohio; was it passed from tribe to tribe; or did it belong to arace that occupied the country before the Indian, and who have lefttraces of their civilized skill in pottery scattered all over thecontinent ?

If I could establish the fact that this jar was made by a prehistoricrace, we should then have four generations in this lovely valley:-theamiable Pre-Historic people (whose gentle descendants were probablykilled by the Spaniards in the West Indies); the Red Indians; theKeene Flaters (from Vermont); and the Summer Boarders, to say nothingof the various races of animals who have been unable to live heresince the advent of the Summer Boarders, the valley being notproductive enough to sustain both. This last incursion has been moredestructive to the noble serenity of the forest than all thepreceding.

But we are wandering from Hunter's Pass. The western walls of it areformed by the precipices of Nipple Top, not so striking nor so bareas the great slides of Dix which glisten in the sun like silver, butrough and repelling, and consequently alluring. I have a greatdesire to scale them. I have always had an unreasonable wish toexplore the rough summit of this crabbed hill, which is too brokenand jagged for pleasure and not high enough for glory. This desirewas stimulated by a legend related by our guide that night in the MudPond cabin. The guide had never been through the pass before;although he was familiar with the region, and had ascended Nipple Topin the winter in pursuit of the sable. The story he told doesn'tamount to much, none of the guides' stories do, faithfully reported,and I should not have believed it if I had not had a good deal ofleisure on my hands at the time, and been of a willing mind, and Imay say in rather of a starved condition as to any romance in thisregion.

The guide said then—and he mentioned it casually, in reply to ourinquiries about ascending the mountain—that there was a cave high upamong the precipices on the southeast side of Nipple Top. Hescarcely volunteered the information, and with seeming reluctancegave us any particulars about it. I always admire this art by whichthe accomplished story-teller lets his listener drag the reluctanttale of the marvelous from him, and makes you in a manner responsiblefor its improbability. If this is well managed, the listener isalways eager to believe a great deal more than the romancer seemswilling to tell, and always resents the assumed reservations anddoubts of the latter.

There were strange reports about this cave when the old guide was aboy, and even then its very existence had become legendary. Nobodyknew exactly where it was, but there was no doubt that it had beeninhabited. Hunters in the forests south of Dix had seen a light lateat night twinkling through the trees high up the mountain, and nowand then a ruddy glare as from the flaring-up of a furnace. Settlerswere few in the wilderness then, and all the inhabitants were wellknown. If the cave was inhabited, it must be by strangers, and bymen who had some secret purpose in seeking this seclusion and eludingobservation. If suspicious characters were seen about Port Henry, orif any such landed from the steamers on the shore of Lake Champlain,it was impossible to identify them with these invaders who were neverseen. Their not being seen did not, however, prevent the growth ofthe belief in their existence. Little indications and rumors, eachtrivial in itself, became a mass of testimony that could not bedisposed of because of its very indefiniteness, but which appealedstrongly to man's noblest faculty, his imagination, or credulity.

The cave existed; and it was inhabited by men who came and went onmysterious errands, and transacted their business by night. Whatthis band of adventurers or desperadoes lived on, how they conveyedtheir food through the trackless woods to their high eyrie, and whatcould induce men to seek such a retreat, were questions discussed,but never settled. They might be banditti; but there was nothing toplunder in these savage wilds, and, in fact, robberies and raidseither in the settlements of the hills or the distant lake shore wereunknown. In another age, these might have been hermits, holy men whohad retired from the world to feed the vanity of their godliness in aspot where they were subject neither to interruption nor comparison;they would have had a shrine in the cave, and an image of the BlessedVirgin, with a lamp always burning before it and sending out itsmellow light over the savage waste. A more probable notion was thatthey were romantic Frenchmen who had grow weary of vice andrefinement together,—possibly princes, expectants of the throne,Bourbon remainders, named Williams or otherwise, unhatched eggs, soto speak, of kings, who had withdrawn out of observation to wait forthe next turn-over in Paris. Frenchmen do such things. If they werenot Frenchmen, they might be honest-thieves or criminals, escapedfrom justice or from the friendly state-prison of New York. Thislast supposition was, however, more violent than the others, or seemsso to us in this day of grace. For what well-brought-up New Yorkcriminal would be so insane as to run away from his political friendsthe keepers, from the easily had companionship of his pals outside,and from the society of his criminal lawyer, and, in short, to puthimself into the depths of a wilderness out of which escape, whenescape was desired, is a good deal more difficult than it is out ofthe swarming jails of the Empire State? Besides, how foolish for aman, if he were a really hardened and professional criminal, havingestablished connections and a regular business, to run away from thegovernor's pardon, which might have difficulty in finding him in thecraggy bosom of Nipple Top!

This gang of men—there is some doubt whether they were accompaniedby women—gave little evidence in their appearance of being escapedcriminals or expectant kings. Their movements were mysterious butnot necessarily violent. If their occupation could have beendiscovered, that would have furnished a clew to their true character.But about this the strangers were as close as mice. If anythingcould betray them, it was the steady light from the cavern, and itsoccasional ruddy flashing. This gave rise to the opinion, which wasstrengthened by a good many indications equally conclusive, that thecave was the resort of a gang of coiners and counterfeiters. Herethey had their furnace, smelting-pots, and dies; here theymanufactured those spurious quarters and halves that theirconfidants, who were pardoned, were circulating, and which a fewhonest men were "nailing to the counter."

This prosaic explanation of a romantic situation satisfies all therequirements of the known facts, but the lively imagination at oncerejects it as unworthy of the subject. I think the guide put itforward in order to have it rejected. The fact is,—at least, it hasnever been disproved,—these strangers whose movements were veiledbelonged to that dark and mysterious race whose presence anywhere onthis continent is a nest-egg of romance or of terror. They wereSpaniards! You need not say buccaneers, you need not say gold-hunters, you need not say swarthy adventurers even: it is enough tosay Spaniards! There is no tale of mystery and fanaticism and daringI would not believe if a Spaniard is the hero of it, and it is notnecessary either that he should have the high-sounding name ofBodadilla or Ojeda.

Nobody, I suppose, would doubt this story if the moose, quaffing deepdraughts of red wine from silver tankards, and then throwingthemselves back upon divans, and lazily puffing the fragrant Havana.After a day of toil, what more natural, and what more probable for aSpaniard?

Does the reader think these inferences not warranted by the facts?He does not know the facts. It is true that our guide had neverhimself personally visited the cave, but he has always intended tohunt it up. His information in regard to it comes from his father,who was a mighty hunter and trapper. In one of his expeditions overNipple Top he chanced upon the cave. The mouth was half concealed byundergrowth. He entered, not without some apprehension engendered bythe legends which make it famous. I think he showed some boldness inventuring into such a place alone. I confess that, before I went in,I should want to fire a Gatling gun into the mouth for a littlewhile, in order to rout out the bears which usually dwell there. Hewent in, however. The entrance was low; but the cave was spacious,not large, but big enough, with a level floor and a vaulted ceiling.It had long been deserted, but that it was once the residence ofhighly civilized beings there could be no doubt. The dead brands inthe centre were the remains of a fire that could not have beenkindled by wild beasts, and the bones scattered about had beenscientifically dissected and handled. There were also remnants offurniture and pieces of garments scattered about. At the fartherend, in a fissure of the rock, were stones regularly built up, therem Yins of a larger fire,—and what the hunter did not doubt was thesmelting furnace of the Spaniards. He poked about in the ashes, butfound no silver. That had all been carried away.

But what most provoked his wonder in this rude cave was a chair IThis was not such a seat as a woodman might knock up with an axe,with rough body and a seat of woven splits, but a manufactured chairof commerce, and a chair, too, of an unusual pattern and someelegance. This chair itself was a mute witness of luxury andmystery. The chair itself might have been accounted for, though Idon't know how; but upon the back of the chair hung, as if the ownerhad carelessly flung it there before going out an hour before, aman's waistcoat. This waistcoat seemed to him of foreign make andpeculiar style, but what endeared it to him was its row of metalbuttons. These buttons were of silver! I forget now whether he didnot say they were of silver coin, and that the coin was Spanish. ButI am not certain about this latter fact, and I wish to cast no air ofimprobability over my narrative. This rich vestment the huntercarried away with him. This was all the plunder his expeditionafforded. Yes: there was one other article, and, to my mind, moresignificant than the vest of the hidalgo. This was a short and stoutcrowbar of iron; not one of the long crowbars that farmers use to pryup stones, but a short handy one, such as you would use in diggingsilver-ore out of the cracks of rocks.

This was the guide's simple story. I asked him what became of thevest and the buttons, and the bar of iron. The old man wore the vestuntil he wore it out; and then he handed it over to the boys, andthey wore it in turn till they wore it out. The buttons were cutoff, and kept as curiosities. They were about the cabin, and thechildren had them to play with. The guide distinctly remembersplaying with them; one of them he kept for a long time, and he didn'tknow but he could find it now, but he guessed it had disappeared. Iregretted that he had not treasured this slender verification of aninteresting romance, but he said in those days he never paid muchattention to such things. Lately he has turned the subject over, andis sorry that his father wore out the vest and did not bring away thechair. It is his steady purpose to find the cave some time when hehas leisure, and capture the chair, if it has not tumbled to pieces.But about the crowbar? Oh I that is all right. The guide has thebar at his house in Keene Valley, and has always used it. I am happy to be able to confirm this story by saying that nextday I saw the crowbar, and had it in my hand. It is short and thick,and the most interesting kind of crowbar. This evidence is enoughfor me. I intend in the course of this vacation to search for thecave; and, if I find it, my readers shall know the truth about it, ifit destroys the only bit of romance connected with these mountains.

VIII

WHAT SOME PEOPLE CALL PLEASURE

My readers were promised an account of Spaniard's Cave on Nipple-TopMountain in the Adirondacks, if such a cave exists, and could befound. There is none but negative evidence that this is a mere caveof the imagination, the void fancy of a vacant hour; but it is theduty of the historian to present the negative testimony of afruitless expedition in search of it, made last summer. I beg leaveto offer this in the simple language befitting all sincere exploitsof a geographical character.

The summit of Nipple-Top Mountain has been trodden by few white menof good character: it is in the heart of a hirsute wilderness; it isitself a rough and unsocial pile of granite nearly five thousand feethigh, bristling with a stunted and unpleasant growth of firs andbalsams, and there is no earthly reason why a person should go there.Therefore we went. In the party of three there was, of course, achaplain. The guide was Old Mountain Phelps, who had made the ascentonce before, but not from the northwest side, the direction fromwhich we approached it. The enthusiasm of this philosopher has grownwith his years, and outlived his endurance: we carried our ownknapsacks and supplies, therefore, and drew upon him for nothing butmoral reflections and a general knowledge of the wilderness. Ourfirst day's route was through the Gill-brook woods and up one of itsbranches to the head of Caribou Pass, which separates Nipple Top fromColvin.

It was about the first of September; no rain had fallen for severalweeks, and this heart of the forest was as dry as tinder; a lightedmatch dropped anywhere would start a conflagration. This dryness hasits advantages: the walking is improved; the long heat has expressedall the spicy odors of the cedars and balsams, and the woods arefilled with a soothing fragrance; the waters of the streams, thoughscant and clear, are cold as ice; the common forest chill is gonefrom the air. The afternoon was bright; there was a feeling ofexultation and adventure in stepping off into the open but pathlessforest; the great stems of deciduous trees were mottled with patchesof sunlight, which brought out upon the variegated barks and mossesof the old trunks a thousand shifting hues. There is nothing like aprimeval wood for color on a sunny day. The shades of green andbrown are infinite; the dull red of the hemlock bark glows in thesun, the russet of the changing moose-bush becomes brilliant; thereare silvery openings here and there; and everywhere the columns riseup to the canopy of tender green which supports the intense blue skyand holds up a part of it from falling through in fragments to thefloor of the forest. Decorators can learn here how Nature dares toput blue and green in juxtaposition: she has evidently the secret ofharmonizing all the colors.

The way, as we ascended, was not all through open woods; dense massesof firs were encountered, jagged spurs were to be crossed, and thegoing became at length so slow and toilsome that we took to the rockybed of a stream, where bowlders and flumes and cascades offered ussufficient variety. The deeper we penetrated, the greater the senseof savageness and solitude; in the silence of these hidden places oneseems to approach the beginning of things. We emerged from thedefile into an open basin, formed by the curved side of the mountain,and stood silent before a waterfall coming down out of the sky in thecentre of the curve. I do not know anything exactly like this fall,which some poetical explorer has named the Fairy-Ladder Falls. Itappears to have a height of something like a hundred and fifty feet,and the water falls obliquely across the face of the cliff from leftto right in short steps, which in the moonlight might seem like averitable ladder for fairies. Our impression of its height wasconfirmed by climbing the very steep slope at its side some three orfour hundred feet. At the top we found the stream flowing over abroad bed of rock, like a street in the wilderness, slanting up stilltowards the sky, and bordered by low firs and balsams, and bowlderscompletely covered with moss. It was above the world and open to thesky.

On account of the tindery condition of the woods we made our fire onthe natural pavement, and selected a smooth place for our bed near byon the flat rock, with a pool of limpid water at the foot. Thisgranite couch we covered with the dry and springy moss, which westripped off in heavy fleeces a foot thick from the bowlders. First,however, we fed upon the fruit that was offered us. Over these hillsof moss ran an exquisite vine with a tiny, ovate, green leaf, bearingsmall, delicate berries, oblong and white as wax, having a faintflavor of wintergreen and the slightest acid taste, the very essenceof the wilderness; fairy food, no doubt, and too refined for palatesaccustomed to coarser viands. There must exist somewhere sinlesswomen who could eat these berries without being reminded of the lostpurity and delicacy of the primeval senses. Every year I doubt notthis stainless berry ripens here, and is unplucked by any knight ofthe Holy Grail who is worthy to eat it, and keeps alive, in theprodigality of nature, the tradition of the unperverted conditions oftaste before the fall. We ate these berries, I am bound to say, witha sense of guilty enjoyment, as if they had been a sort of shew-breadof the wilderness, though I cannot answer for the chaplain, who is byvirtue of his office a little nearer to these mysteries of naturethan I. This plant belongs to the heath family, and is first cousinto the blueberry and cranberry. It is commonly called the creepingsnowberry, but I like better its official title of chiogenes,—thesnow-born.

Our mossy resting-place was named the Bridal Chamber Camp, in theenthusiasm of the hour, after darkness fell upon the woods and thestars came out. We were two thousand five hundred feet above thecommon world. We lay, as it were, on a shelf in the sky, with abasin of illimitable forests below us and dim mountain-passes-in thefar horizon.

And as we lay there courting sleep which the blinking stars refusedto shower down, our philosopher discoursed to us of the principle offire, which he holds, with the ancients, to be an independent elementthat comes and goes in a mysterious manner, as we see flame spring upand vanish, and is in some way vital and indestructible, and has amysterious relation to the source of all things. "That flame," hesays, "you have put out, but where has it gone?" We could not say,nor whether it is anything like the spirit of a man which is here fora little hour, and then vanishes away. Our own philosophy of thecorrelation of forces found no sort of favor at that elevation, andwe went to sleep leaving the principle of fire in the apostoliccategory of " any other creature."

At daylight we were astir; and, having pressed the principle of fireinto our service to make a pot of tea, we carefully extinguished itor sent it into another place, and addressed ourselves to the climbof some thing over two thousand feet. The arduous labor of scalingan Alpine peak has a compensating glory; but the dead lift of ourbodies up Nipple Top had no stimulus of this sort. It is simply hardwork, for which the strained muscles only get the approbation of theindividual conscience that drives them to the task. The pleasure ofsuch an ascent is difficult to explain on the spot, and I suspectconsists not so much in positive enjoyment as in the delight the mindexperiences in tyrannizing over the body. I do not object to theelevation of this mountain, nor to the uncommonly steep grade bywhich it attains it, but only to the other obstacles thrown in theway of the climber. All the slopes of Nipple Top are hirsute andjagged to the last degree. Granite ledges interpose; granitebowlders seem to have been dumped over the sides with no more attemptat arrangement than in a rip-rap wall; the slashes and windfalls of acentury present here and there an almost impenetrable chevalier desarbres; and the steep sides bristle with a mass of thick balsams,with dead, protruding spikes, as unyielding as iron stakes. Themountain has had its own way forever, and is as untamed as a wolf; orrather the elements, the frightful tempests, the frosts, the heavysnows, the coaxing sun, and the avalanches have had their way with ituntil its surface is in hopeless confusion. We made our way veryslowly; and it was ten o'clock before we reached what appeared to bethe summit, a ridge deeply covered with moss, low balsams, andblueberry-bushes.

I say, appeared to be; for we stood in thick fog or in the heart ofclouds which limited our dim view to a radius of twenty feet. It wasa warm and cheerful fog, stirred by little wind, but moving,shifting, and boiling as by its own volatile nature, rolling up blackfrom below and dancing in silvery splendor overhead As a fog it couldnot have been improved; as a medium for viewing the landscape it wasa failure and we lay down upon the Sybarite couch of moss, as in aRussian bath, to await revelations.

We waited two hours without change, except an occasional hopefullightness in the fog above, and at last the appearance for a momentof the spectral sun. Only for an instant was this luminous promisevouchsafed. But we watched in intense excitement. There it wasagain; and this time the fog was so thin overhead that we caughtsight of a patch of blue sky a yard square, across which the curtainwas instantly drawn. A little wind was stirring, and the fog boiledup from the valley caldrons thicker than ever. But the spell wasbroken. In a moment more Old Phelps was shouting, "The sun!" andbefore we could gain our feet there was a patch of sky overhead asbig as a farm. "See! quick!" The old man was dancing like alunatic. There was a rift in the vapor at our feet, down, down,three thousand feet into the forest abyss, and lo! lifting out of ityonder the tawny side of Dix,—the vision of a second, snatched awayin the rolling fog. The play had just begun. Before we could turn,there was the gorge of Caribou Pass, savage and dark, visible to thebottom. The opening shut as suddenly; and then, looking over theclouds, miles away we saw the peaceful farms of the Au Sable Valley,and in a moment more the plateau of North Elba and the sentinelmountains about the grave of John Brown. These glimpses were asfleeting as thought, and instantly we were again isolated in the seaof mist. The expectation of these sudden strokes of sublimity keptus exultingly on the alert; and yet it was a blow of surprise whenthe curtain was swiftly withdrawn on the west, and the long ridge ofColvin, seemingly within a stone's throw, heaved up like an islandout of the ocean, and was the next moment ingulfed. We waited longerfor Dix to show its shapely peak and its glistening sides of rockgashed by avalanches. The fantastic clouds, torn and streaming,hurried up from the south in haste as if to a witch's rendezvous,hiding and disclosing the great summit in their flight. The mistboiled up from the valley, whirled over the summit where we stood,and plunged again into the depths. Objects were forming anddisappearing, shifting and dancing, now in sun and now gone in fog,and in the elemental whirl we felt that we were "assisting" in anoriginal process of creation. The sun strove, and his very strivingcalled up new vapors; the wind rent away the clouds, and brought newmasses to surge about us; and the spectacle to right and left, aboveand below, changed with incredible swiftness. Such glory of abyssand summit, of color and form and transformation, is seldom grantedto mortal eyes. For an hour we watched it until our vast mountainwas revealed in all its bulk, its long spurs, its abysses and itssavagery, and the great basins of wilderness with their shininglakes, and the giant peaks of the region, were one by one disclosed,and hidden and again tranquil in the sunshine.

Where was the cave? There was ample surface in which to look for it.If we could have flitted about, like the hawks that came circlinground, over the steep slopes, the long spurs, the jagged precipices,I have no doubt we should have found it. But moving about on thismountain is not a holiday pastime; and we were chiefly anxious todiscover a practicable mode of descent into the great wildernessbasin on the south, which we must traverse that afternoon beforereaching the hospitable shanty on Mud Pond. It was enough for us tohave discovered the general whereabouts of the Spanish Cave, and weleft the fixing of its exact position to future explorers.

The spur we chose for our escape looked smooth in the distance; butwe found it bristling with obstructions, dead balsams set thicklytogether, slashes of fallen timber, and every manner of woody chaos;and when at length we swung and tumbled off the ledge to the generalslope, we exchanged only for more disagreeable going. The slope fora couple of thousand feet was steep enough; but it was formed ofgranite rocks all moss-covered, so that the footing could not bedetermined, and at short intervals we nearly went out of sight inholes under the treacherous carpeting. Add to this that stems ofgreat trees were laid longitudinally and transversely and criss-crossover and among the rocks, and the reader can see that a good deal ofwork needs to be done to make this a practicable highway for anythingbut a squirrel….

We had had no water since our daylight breakfast: our lunch on themountain had been moistened only by the fog. Our thirst began to bethat of Tantalus, because we could hear the water running deep downamong the rocks, but we could not come at it. The imagination drankthe living stream, and we realized anew what delusive food theimagination furnishes in an actual strait. A good deal of the crimeof this world, I am convinced, is the direct result of the unlicensedplay of the imagination in adverse circ*mstances. This reflectionhad nothing to do with our actual situation; for we added to ourimagination patience, and to our patience long-suffering, andprobably all the Christian virtues would have been developed in us ifthe descent had been long enough. Before we reached the bottom ofCaribou Pass, the water burst out from the rocks in a clear streamthat was as cold as ice. Shortly after, we struck the roaring brookthat issues from the Pass to the south. It is a stream full ofcharacter, not navigable even for trout in the upper part, but asuccession of falls, cascades, flumes, and pools that would delightan artist. It is not an easy bed for anything except water todescend; and before we reached the level reaches, where the streamflows with a murmurous noise through open woods, one of our partybegan to show signs of exhaustion.

This was Old Phelps, whose appetite had failed the day before,—hisimagination being in better working order than his stomach: he hadeaten little that day, and his legs became so groggy that he wasobliged to rest at short intervals. Here was a situation! Theafternoon was wearing away. We had six or seven miles of unknownwilderness to traverse, a portion of it swampy, in which a progressof more than a mile an hour is difficult, and the condition of theguide compelled even a slower march. What should we do in thatlonesome solitude if the guide became disabled? We couldn't carryhim out; could we find our own way out to get assistance? The guidehimself had never been there before; and although he knew the generaldirection of our point of egress, and was entirely adequate toextricate himself from any position in the woods, his knowledge wasof that occult sort possessed by woodsmen which it is impossible tocommunicate. Our object was to strike a trail that led from the AuSable Pond, the other side of the mountain-range, to an inlet on MudPond. We knew that if we traveled southwestward far enough we muststrike that trail, but how far? No one could tell. If we reachedthat trail, and found a boat at the inlet, there would be only a rowof a couple of miles to the house at the foot of the lake. If noboat was there, then we must circle the lake three or four milesfarther through a cedar-swamp, with no trail in particular. Theprospect was not pleasing. We were short of supplies, for we had notexpected to pass that night in the woods. The pleasure of theexcursion began to develop itself.

We stumbled on in the general direction marked out, through a forestthat began to seem endless as hour after hour passed, compelled as wewere to make long detours over the ridges of the foothills to avoidthe swamp, which sent out from the border of the lake long tonguesinto the firm ground. The guide became more ill at every step, andneeded frequent halts and long rests. Food he could not eat; andtea, water, and even brandy he rejected. Again and again the oldphilosopher, enfeebled by excessive exertion and illness, wouldcollapse in a heap on the ground, an almost comical picture ofdespair, while we stood and waited the waning of the day, and peeredforward in vain for any sign of an open country. At every brook weencountered, we suggested a halt for the night, while it was stilllight enough to select a camping-place, but the plucky old manwouldn't hear of it: the trail might be only a quarter of a mileahead, and we crawled on again at a snail's pace. His honor as aguide seemed to be at stake; and, besides, he confessed to a notionthat his end was near, and he didn't want to die like a dog in thewoods. And yet, if this was his last journey, it seemed not aninappropriate ending for the old woodsman to lie down and give up theghost in the midst of the untamed forest and the solemn silences hefelt most at home in. There is a popular theory, held by civilians,that a soldier likes to die in battle. I suppose it is as true thata woodsman would like to "pass in his chips,"—the figure seems to beinevitable, struck down by illness and exposure, in the forestsolitude, with heaven in sight and a tree-root for his pillow.

The guide seemed really to fear that, if we did not get out of thewoods that night, he would never go out; and, yielding to his doggedresolution, we kept on in search of the trail, although the gatheringof dusk over the ground warned us that we might easily cross thetrail without recognizing it. We were traveling by the light in theupper sky, and by the forms of the tree-stems, which every momentgrew dimmer. At last the end came. We had just felt our way overwhat seemed to be a little run of water, when the old man sunk down,remarking, "I might as well die here as anywhere," and was silent.

Suddenly night fell like a blanket on us. We could neither see theguide nor each other. We became at once conscious that miles ofnight on all sides shut us in. The sky was clouded over: therewasn't a gleam of light to show us where to step. Our first thoughtwas to build a fire, which would drive back the thick darkness intothe woods, and boil some water for our tea. But it was too dark touse the axe. We scraped together leaves and twigs to make a blaze,and, as this failed, such dead sticks as we could find by gropingabout. The fire was only a temporary affair, but it sufficed to boila can of water. The water we obtained by feeling about the stones ofthe little run for an opening big enough to dip our cup in. Thesupper to be prepared was fortunately simple. It consisted of adecoction of tea and other leaves which had got into the pail, and apart of a loaf of bread. A loaf of bread which has been carried in aknapsack for a couple of days, bruised and handled and hacked at witha hunting-knife, becomes an uninteresting object. But we ate of itwith thankfulness, washed it down with hot fluid, and bitterlythought of the morrow. Would our old friend survive the night?Would he be in any condition to travel in the morning? How were weto get out with him or without him?

The old man lay silent in the bushes out of sight, and desired onlyto be let alone. We tried to tempt him with the offer of a piece oftoast: it was no temptation. Tea we thought would revive him: herefused it. A drink of brandy would certainly quicken his life: hecouldn't touch it. We were at the end of our resources. He seemedto think that if he were at home, and could get a bit of fried bacon,or a piece of pie, he should be all right. We knew no more how todoctor him than if he had been a sick bear. He withdrew withinhimself, rolled himself up, so to speak, in his primitive habits, andwaited for the healing power of nature. Before our feeble firedisappeared, we smoothed a level place near it for Phelps to lie on,and got him over to it. But it didn't suit: it was too open. Infact, at the moment some drops of rain fell. Rain was quite outsideof our program for the night. But the guide had an instinct aboutit; and, while we were groping about some yards distant for a placewhere we could lie down, he crawled away into the darkness, andcurled himself up amid the roots of a gigantic pine, very much as abear would do, I suppose, with his back against the trunk, and therepassed the night comparatively dry and comfortable; but of this weknew nothing till morning, and had to trust to the assurance of avoice out of the darkness that he was all right.

Our own bed where we spread our blankets was excellent in onerespect,—there was no danger of tumbling out of it. At first therain pattered gently on the leaves overhead, and we congratulatedourselves on the snugness of our situation. There was somethingcheerful about this free life. We contrasted our condition with thatof tired invalids who were tossing on downy beds, and wooing sleep invain. Nothing was so wholesome and invigorating as this bivouac inthe forest. But, somehow, sleep did not come. The rain had ceasedto patter, and began to fall with a steady determination, a sort ofsoak, soak, all about us. In fact, it roared on the rubber blanket,and beat in our faces. The wind began to stir a little, and therewas a moaning on high. Not contented with dripping, the rain wasdriven into our faces. Another suspicious circ*mstance was noticed.Little rills of water got established along the sides under theblankets, cold, undeniable streams, that interfered with drowsiness.Pools of water settled on the bed; and the chaplain had a habit ofmoving suddenly, and letting a quart or two inside, and down my neck.It began to be evident that we and our bed were probably the wettestobjects in the woods. The rubber was an excellent catch-all. Therewas no trouble about ventilation, but we found that we hadestablished our quarters without any provision for drainage. Therewas not exactly a wild tempest abroad; but there was a degree ofliveliness in the thrashing limbs and the creaking of the tree-branches which rubbed against each other, and the pouring rainincreased in volume and power of penetration. Sleep was quite out ofthe question, with so much to distract our attention. In fine, ourmisery became so perfect that we both broke out into loud andsarcastic laughter over the absurdity of our situation. We hadsubjected ourselves to all this forlornness simply for pleasure.Whether Old Phelps was still in existence, we couldn't tell: we couldget no response from him. With daylight, if he continued ill andcould not move, our situation would be little improved. Our supplieswere gone, we lay in a pond, a deluge of water was pouring down onus. This was summer recreation. The whole thing was so excessivelyabsurd that we laughed again, louder than ever. We had plenty ofthis sort of amusem*nt. Suddenly through the night we heard a sortof reply that started us bolt upright. This was a prolonged squawk.It was like the voice of no beast or bird with which we werefamiliar. At first it was distant; but it rapidly approached,tearing through the night and apparently through the tree-tops, likethe harsh cry of a web-footed bird with a snarl in it; in fact, as Isaid, a squawk. It came close to us, and then turned, and as rapidlyas it came fled away through the forest, and we lost the unearthlynoise far up the mountain-slope.

"What was that, Phelps? "we cried out. But no response came; and wewondered if his spirit had been rent away, or if some evil genius hadsought it, and then, baffled by his serene and philosophic spirit,had shot off into the void in rage and disappointment.

The night had no other adventure. The moon at length coming upbehind the clouds lent a spectral aspect to the forest, and deceivedus for a time into the notion that day was at hand; but the rainnever ceased, and we lay wishful and waiting, with no item of solidmisery wanting that we could conceive.

Day was slow a-coming, and didn't amount to much when it came, soheavy were the clouds; but the rain slackened. We crawled out of ourwater-cure "pack," and sought the guide. To our infinite relief heannounced himself not only alive, but in a going condition. I lookedat my watch. It had stopped at five o'clock. I poured the water outof it, and shook it; but, not being constructed on the hydraulicprinciple, it refused to go. Some hours later we encountered ahuntsman, from whom I procured some gun-grease; with this I filledthe watch, and heated it in by the fire. This is a most effectualway of treating a delicate Genevan timepiece.

The light disclosed fully the suspected fact that our bed had beenmade in a slight depression: the under rubber blanket spread in thishad prevented the rain from soaking into the ground, and we had beenlying in what was in fact a well-contrived bathtub. While Old Phelpswas pulling himself together, and we were wringing some gallons ofwater out of our blankets, we questioned the old man about the"squawk," and what bird was possessed of such a voice. It was not abird at all, he said, but a cat, the black-cat of the woods, largerthan the domestic animal, and an ugly customer, who is fond of fish,and carries a pelt that is worth two or three dollars in the market.Occasionally he blunders into a sable-trap; and he is altogetherhateful in his ways, and has the most uncultivated voice that isheard in the woods. We shall remember him as one of the leastpleasant phantoms of that cheerful night when we lay in the storm,fearing any moment the advent to one of us of the grimmest messenger.

We rolled up and shouldered our wet belongings, and, before theshades had yet lifted from the saturated bushes, pursued our march.It was a relief to be again in motion, although our progress wasslow, and it was a question every rod whether the guide could go on.We had the day before us; but if we did not find a boat at the inleta day might not suffice, in the weak condition of the guide, toextricate us from our ridiculous position. There was nothing heroicin it; we had no object: it was merely, as it must appear by thistime, a pleasure excursion, and we might be lost or perish in itwithout reward and with little sympathy. We had something like ahour and a half of stumbling through the swamp when suddenly we stoodin the little trail! Slight as it was, it appeared to us a veryBroadway to Paradise if broad ways ever lead thither. Phelps hailedit and sank down in it like one reprieved from death. But the boat?Leaving him, we quickly ran a quarter of a mile down to the inlet.The boat was there. Our shout to the guide would have roused him outof a death-slumber. He came down the trail with the agility of anaged deer: never was so glad a sound in his ear, he said, as thatshout. It was in a very jubilant mood that we emptied the boat ofwater, pushed off, shipped the clumsy oars, and bent to the two-milerow through the black waters of the winding, desolate channel, andover the lake, whose dark waves were tossed a little in the morningbreeze. The trunks of dead trees stand about this lake, and all itsshores are ragged with ghastly drift-wood; but it was open to thesky, and although the heavy clouds still obscured all the mountain-ranges we had a sense of escape and freedom that almost made themelancholy scene lovely.

How lightly past hardship sits upon us! All the misery of the nightvanished, as if it had not been, in the shelter of the log cabin atMud Pond, with dry clothes that fitted us as the skin of the bearfits him in the spring, a noble breakfast, a toasting fire,solicitude about our comfort, judicious sympathy with our suffering,and willingness to hear the now growing tale of our adventure. Thencame, in a day of absolute idleness, while the showers came and went,and the mountains appeared and disappeared in sun and storm, thatperfect physical enjoyment which consists in a feeling of strengthwithout any inclination to use it, and in a delicious languor whichis too enjoyable to be surrendered to sleep.

'74HOW SPRING CAME IN NEW ENGLAND

BY A READER OF "'93"

New England is the battle-ground of the seasons. It is La Vendee.To conquer it is only to begin the fight. When it is completelysubdued, what kind of weather have you? None whatever.

What is this New England? A country? No: a camp. It is alternatelyinvaded by the hyperborean legions and by the wilting sirens of thetropics. Icicles hang always on its northern heights; its seacoastsare fringed with mosquitoes. There is for a third of the year acontest between the icy air of the pole and the warm wind of thegulf. The result of this is a compromise: the compromise is calledThaw. It is the normal condition in New England. The New-Englanderis a person who is always just about to be warm and comfortable.This is the stuff of which heroes and martyrs are made. A personthoroughly heated or frozen is good for nothing. Look at the Bongos.Examine (on the map) the Dog-Rib nation. The New-Englander, byincessant activity, hopes to get warm. Edwards made his theology.Thank God, New England is not in Paris!

Hudson's Bay, Labrador, Grinnell's Land, a whole zone of ice andwalruses, make it unpleasant for New England. This icy cover, likethe lid of a pot, is always suspended over it: when it shuts down,that is winter. This would be intolerable, were it not for the GulfStream. The Gulf Stream is a benign, liquid force, flowing fromunder the ribs of the equator,—a white knight of the South going upto battle the giant of the North. The two meet in New England, andhave it out there.

This is the theory; but, in fact, the Gulf Stream is mostly adelusion as to New England. For Ireland it is quite another thing.Potatoes ripen in Ireland before they are planted in New England.That is the reason the Irish emigrate—they desire two crops the sameyear. The Gulf Stream gets shunted off from New England by theformation of the coast below: besides, it is too shallow to be of anyservice. Icebergs float down against its surface-current, and fillall the New-England air with the chill of death till June: after thatthe fogs drift down from Newfoundland. There never was such amockery as this Gulf Stream. It is like the English influence onFrance, on Europe. Pitt was an iceberg.

Still New England survives. To what purpose? I say, as an example:the politician says, to produce "Poor Boys." Bah! The poor boy isan anachronism in civilization. He is no longer poor, and he is nota boy. In Tartary they would hang him for sucking all the asses'milk that belongs to the children: in New England he has all thecream from the Public Cow. What can you expect in a country whereone knows not today what the weather will be tomorrow? Climate makesthe man. Suppose he, too, dwells on the Channel Islands, where hehas all climates, and is superior to all. Perhaps he will become theprophet, the seer, of his age, as he is its Poet. The New-Englanderis the man without a climate. Why is his country recognized? Youwon't find it on any map of Paris.

And yet Paris is the universe. Strange anomaly! The greater mustinclude the less; but how if the less leaks out? This sometimeshappens.

And yet there are phenomena in that country worth observing. One ofthem is the conduct of Nature from the 1st of March to the 1st ofJune, or, as some say, from the vernal equinox to the summersolstice. As Tourmalain remarked, "You'd better observe theunpleasant than to be blind." This was in 802. Tourmalain is dead;so is Gross Alain; so is little Pee-Wee: we shall all be dead beforethings get any better.

That is the law. Without revolution there is nothing. What isrevolution? It is turning society over, and putting the bestunderground for a fertilizer. Thus only will things grow. What hasthis to do with New England? In the language of that flash of sociallightning, Beranger, "May the Devil fly away with me if I can see!"

Let us speak of the period in the year in New England when winterappears to hesitate. Except in the calendar, the action is ironical;but it is still deceptive. The sun mounts high: it is above thehorizon twelve hours at a time. The snow gradually sneaks away inliquid repentance. One morning it is gone, except in shaded spotsand close by the fences. From about the trunks of the trees it haslong departed: the tree is a living thing, and its growth repels it.The fence is dead, driven into the earth in a rigid line by man: thefence, in short, is dogma: icy prejudice lingers near it.The snow has disappeared; but the landscape is a ghastly sight,—bleached, dead. The trees are stakes; the grass is of no color; andthe bare soil is not brown with a healthful brown; life has gone outof it. Take up a piece of turf: it is a clod, without warmth,inanimate. Pull it in pieces: there is no hope in it: it is a partof the past; it is the refuse of last year. This is the condition towhich winter has reduced the landscape. When the snow, which was apall, is removed, you see how ghastly it is. The face of the countryis sodden. It needs now only the south wind to sweep over it, fullof the damp breath of death; and that begins to blow. No prospectwould be more dreary.

And yet the south wind fills credulous man with joy. He opens thewindow. He goes out, and catches cold. He is stirred by themysterious coming of something. If there is sign of change nowhereelse, we detect it in the newspaper. In sheltered corners of thattruculent instrument for the diffusion of the prejudices of the fewamong the many begin to grow the violets of tender sentiment, theearly greens of yearning. The poet feels the sap of the new yearbefore the marsh-willow. He blossoms in advance of the catkins. Manis greater than Nature. The poet is greater than man: he is natureon two legs,—ambulatory.

At first there is no appearance of conflict. The winter garrisonseems to have withdrawn. The invading hosts of the South areentering without opposition. The hard ground softens; the sun lieswarm upon the southern bank, and water oozes from its base. If youexamine the buds of the lilac and the flowering shrubs, you cannotsay that they are swelling; but the varnish with which they werecoated in the fall to keep out the frost seems to be cracking. Ifthe sugar-maple is hacked, it will bleed,—the pure white blood ofNature.

At the close of a sunny day the western sky has a softened aspect:its color, we say, has warmth in it On such a day you may meet acaterpillar on the footpath, and turn out for him. The house-flythaws out; a company of cheerful wasps take possession of a chamber-window. It is oppressive indoors at night, and the window is raised.A flock of millers, born out of time, flutter in. It is most unusualweather for the season: it is so every year. The delusion iscomplete, when, on a mild evening, the tree-toads open their brittle-brattle chorus on the edge of the pond. The citizen asks hisneighbor, "Did you hear the frogs last night?" That seems to openthe new world. One thinks of his childhood and its innocence, and ofhis first loves. It fills one with sentiment and a tender longing,this voice of the tree-toad. Man is a strange being. Deaf to theprayers of friends, to the sermons and warnings of the church, to thecalls of duty, to the pleadings of his better nature, he is touchedby the tree-toad. The signs of the spring multiply. The passer inthe street in the evening sees the maid-servant leaning on the area-gate in sweet converse with some one leaning on the other side; or inthe park, which is still too damp for anything but true affection, hesees her seated by the side of one who is able to protect her fromthe policeman, and hears her sigh, "How sweet it is to be with thosewe love to be with!"

All this is very well; but next morning the newspaper nips theseearly buds of sentiment. The telegraph announces, "Twenty feet ofsnow at Ogden, on the Pacific Road; winds blowing a gale at Omaha,and snow still falling; mercury frozen at Duluth; storm-signals atPort Huron."

Where now are your tree-toads, your young love, your early season?Before noon it rains, by three o'clock it hails; before night thebleak storm-cloud of the northwest envelops the sky; a gale israging, whirling about a tempest of snow. By morning the snow isdrifted in banks, and two feet deep on a level. Early in theseventeenth century, Drebbel of Holland invented the weather-glass.Before that, men had suffered without knowing the degree of theirsuffering. A century later, Romer hit upon the idea of using mercuryin a thermometer; and Fahrenheit constructed the instrument whichadds a new because distinct terror to the weather. Science names andregisters the ills of life; and yet it is a gain to know the namesand habits of our enemies. It is with some satisfaction in ourknowledge that we say the thermometer marks zero.

In fact, the wild beast called Winter, untamed, has returned, andtaken possession of New England. Nature, giving up her melting mood,has retired into dumbness and white stagnation. But we are wise. Wesay it is better to have it now than later. We have a conceit ofunderstanding things.

The sun is in alliance with the earth. Between the two the snow isuncomfortable. Compelled to go, it decides to go suddenly. Thefirst day there is slush with rain; the second day, mud with hail;the third day a flood with sunshine. The thermometer declares thatthe temperature is delightful. Man shivers and sneezes. Hisneighbor dies of some disease newly named by science; but he dies allthe same as if it hadn't been newly named. Science has notdiscovered any name that is not fatal.

This is called the breaking-up of winter.

Nature seems for some days to be in doubt, not exactly able to standstill, not daring to put forth anything tender. Man says that theworst is over. If he should live a thousand years, he would bedeceived every year. And this is called an age of skepticism. Mannever believed in so many things as now: he never believed so much inhimself. As to Nature, he knows her secrets: he can predict what shewill do. He communicates with the next world by means of an alphabetwhich he has invented. He talks with souls at the other end of thespirit-wire. To be sure, neither of them says anything; but theytalk. Is not that something? He suspends the law of gravitation asto his own body—he has learned how to evade it—as tyrants suspendthe legal writs of habeas corpus. When Gravitation asks for hisbody, she cannot have it. He says of himself, "I am infallible; I amsublime." He believes all these things. He is master of theelements. Shakespeare sends him a poem just made, and as good a poemas the man could write himself. And yet this man—he goes out ofdoors without his overcoat, catches cold, and is buried in threedays. "On the 21st of January," exclaimed Mercier, "all kings feltfor the backs of their necks." This might be said of all men in NewEngland in the spring. This is the season that all the poetscelebrate. Let us suppose that once, in Thessaly, there was a genialspring, and there was a poet who sang of it. All later poets havesung the same song. "Voila tout!" That is the root of poetry.

Another delusion. We hear toward evening, high in air, the "conk" ofthe wild-geese. Looking up, you see the black specks of thatadventurous triangle, winging along in rapid flight northward.Perhaps it takes a wide returning sweep, in doubt; but it disappearsin the north. There is no mistaking that sign. This unmusical"conk" is sweeter than the "kerchunk" of the bull-frog. Probablythese birds are not idiots, and probably they turned back south againafter spying out the nakedness of the land; but they have made theirsign. Next day there is a rumor that somebody has seen a bluebird.This rumor, unhappily for the bird (which will freeze to death), isconfirmed. In less than three days everybody has seen a bluebird;and favored people have heard a robin or rather the yellow-breastedthrush, misnamed a robin in America. This is no doubt true: forangle-worms have been seen on the surface of the ground; and,wherever there is anything to eat, the robin is promptly on hand.About this time you notice, in protected, sunny spots, that the grasshas a little color. But you say that it is the grass of last fall.It is very difficult to tell when the grass of last fall became thegrass of this spring. It looks "warmed over." The green is rusty.The lilac-buds have certainly swollen a little, and so have those ofthe soft maple. In the rain the grass does not brighten as you thinkit ought to, and it is only when the rain turns to snow that you seeany decided green color by contrast with the white. The snowgradually covers everything very quietly, however. Winter comes backwithout the least noise or bustle, tireless, malicious, implacable.Neither party in the fight now makes much fuss over it; and you mightthink that Nature had surrendered altogether, if you did not findabout this time, in the Woods, on the edge of a snow-bank, the modestblossoms of the trailing arbutus, shedding their delicious perfume.The bravest are always the tenderest, says the poet. The season, inits blind way, is trying to express itself.

And it is assisted. There is a cheerful chatter in the trees. Theblackbirds have come, and in numbers, households of them, villages ofthem,—communes, rather. They do not believe in God, these black-birds. They think they can take care of themselves. We shall see.But they are well informed. They arrived just as the last snow-bankmelted. One cannot say now that there is not greenness in the grass;not in the wide fields, to be sure, but on lawns and banks slopingsouth. The dark-spotted leaves of the dog-tooth violet begin toshow. Even Fahrenheit's contrivance joins in the upward movement:the mercury has suddenly gone up from thirty degrees to sixty-fivedegrees. It is time for the ice-man. Ice has no sooner disappearedthan we desire it.

There is a smile, if one may say so, in the blue sky, and there is.softness in the south wind. The song-sparrow is singing in theapple-tree. Another bird-note is heard,—two long, musical whistles,liquid but metallic. A brown bird this one, darker than the song-sparrow, and without the latter's light stripes, and smaller, yetbigger than the queer little chipping-bird. He wants a familiarname, this sweet singer, who appears to be a sort of sparrow. He issuch a contrast to the blue-jays, who have arrived in a passion, asusual, screaming and scolding, the elegant, spoiled beauties! Theywrangle from morning till night, these beautiful, high-temperedaristocrats.

Encouraged by the birds, by the bursting of the lilac-buds, by thepeeping-up of the crocuses, by tradition, by the sweet flutterings ofa double hope, another sign appears. This is the Easter bonnets,most delightful flowers of the year, emblems of innocence, hope,devotion. Alas that they have to be worn under umbrellas, so muchthought, freshness, feeling, tenderness have gone into them! And anortheast storm of rain, accompanied with hail, comes to crown allthese virtues with that of self-sacrifice. The frail hat is offeredup to the implacable season. In fact, Nature is not to beforestalled nor hurried in this way. Things cannot be pushed.Nature hesitates. The woman who does not hesitate in April is lost.The appearance of the bonnets is premature. The blackbirds see it.They assemble. For two days they hold a noisy convention, with highdebate, in the tree-tops. Something is going to happen.

Say, rather, the usual thing is about to occur. There is a windcalled Auster, another called Eurus, another called Septentrio,another Meridies, besides Aquilo, Vulturnus, Africus. There are theeight great winds of the classical dictionary,—arsenal of mysteryand terror and of the unknown,—besides the wind Euroaquilo of St.Luke. This is the wind that drives an apostle wishing to gain Creteupon the African Syrtis. If St. Luke had been tacking to get toHyannis, this wind would have forced him into Holmes's Hole. TheEuroaquilo is no respecter of persons.

These winds, and others unnamed and more terrible, circle about NewEngland. They form a ring about it: they lie in wait on its borders,but only to spring upon it and harry it. They follow each other incontracting circles, in whirlwinds, in maelstroms of the atmosphere:they meet and cross each other, all at a moment. This New England isset apart: it is the exercise-ground of the weather. Storms bredelsewhere come here full-grown: they come in couples, in quartets, inchoruses. If New England were not mostly rock, these winds wouldcarry it off; but they would bring it all back again, as happens withthe sandy portions. What sharp Eurus carries to Jersey, Africusbrings back. When the air is not full of snow, it is full of dust.This is called one of the compensations of Nature.

This is what happened after the convention of the blackbirds: Amoaning south wind brought rain; a southwest wind turned the rain tosnow; what is called a zephyr, out of the west, drifted the snow; anorth wind sent the mercury far below freezing. Salt added to snowincreases the evaporation and the cold. This was the office of thenortheast wind: it made the snow damp, and increased its bulk; butthen it rained a little, and froze, thawing at the same time. Theair was full of fog and snow and rain. And then the wind changed,went back round the circle, reversing everything, like dragging a catby its tail. The mercury approached zero. This was nothinguncommon. We know all these winds. We are familiar with thedifferent "forms of water."

All this was only the prologue, the overture. If one might bepermitted to speak scientifically, it was only the tuning of theinstruments. The opera was to come,—the Flying Dutchman of the air.

There is a wind called Euroclydon: it would be one of the Eumenides;only they are women. It is half-brother to the gigantic storm-windof the equinox. The Euroclydon is not a wind: it is a monster. Itsbreath is frost. It has snow in its hair. It is something terrible.It peddles rheumatism, and plants consumption.

The Euroclydon knew just the moment to strike into the discord of theweather in New England. From its lair about Point Desolation, fromthe glaciers of the Greenland continent, sweeping round the coast,leaving wrecks in its track, it marched right athwart the otherconflicting winds, churning them into a fury, and inaugurating chaos.It was the Marat of the elements. It was the revolution marchinginto the " dreaded wood of La Sandraie."

Let us sum it all up in one word: it was something for which there isno name.

Its track was destruction. On the sea it leaves wrecks. What doesit leave on land? Funerals. When it subsides, New England isprostrate. It has left its legacy: this legacy is coughs and patentmedicines. This is an epic; this is destiny. You think Providenceis expelled out of New England? Listen!

Two days after Euroclydon, I found in the woods the hepatica—earliest of wildwood flowers, evidently not intimidated by the wildwork of the armies trampling over New England—daring to hold up itstender blossom. One could not but admire the quiet pertinacity ofNature. She had been painting the grass under the snow. In spots itwas vivid green. There was a mild rain,—mild, but chilly. Theclouds gathered, and broke away in light, fleecy masses. There was asoftness on the hills. The birds suddenly were on every tree,glancing through the air, filling it with song, sometimes shakingraindrops from their wings. The cat brings in one in his mouth. Hethinks the season has begun, and the game-laws are off. He is fondof Nature, this cat, as we all are: he wants to possess it. At fouro'clock in the morning there is a grand dress-rehearsal of the birds.Not all the pieces of the orchestra have arrived; but there areenough. The grass-sparrow has come. This is certainly charming.The gardener comes to talk about seeds: he uncovers the straw-berriesand the grape-vines, salts the asparagus-bed, and plants the peas.You ask if he planted them with a shot-gun. In the shade there isstill frost in the ground. Nature, in fact, still hesitates; putsforth one hepatica at a time, and waits to see the result; pushes upthe grass slowly, perhaps draws it in at night.

This indecision we call Spring.

It becomes painful. It is like being on the rack for ninety days,expecting every day a reprieve. Men grow hardened to it, however.

This is the order with man,—hope, surprise, bewilderment, disgust,facetiousness. The people in New England finally become facetiousabout spring. This is the last stage: it is the most dangerous.When a man has come to make a jest of misfortune, he is lost. "Itbores me to die," said the journalist Carra to the headsman at thefoot of the guillotine: "I would like to have seen the continuation."One is also interested to see how spring is going to turn out.

A day of sun, of delusive bird-singing, sight of the mellow earth,—all these begin to beget confidence. The night, even, has been warm.But what is this in the morning journal, at breakfast?—"An area oflow pressure is moving from the Tortugas north." You shudder.

What is this Low Pressure itself,—it? It is something frightful,low, crouching, creeping, advancing; it is a foreboding; it ismisfortune by telegraph; it is the "'93" of the atmosphere.

This low pressure is a creation of Old Prob. What is that? OldProb. is the new deity of the Americans, greater than AEolus, moredespotic than Sans-Culotte. The wind is his servitor, the lightninghis messenger. He is a mystery made of six parts electricity, andone part "guess." This deity is worshiped by the Americans; his nameis on every man's lips first in the morning; he is the Frankensteinof modern science. Housed at Washington, his business is to directthe storms of the whole country upon New England, and to give noticein advance. This he does. Sometimes he sends the storm, and thengives notice. This is mere playfulness on his part: it is all one tohim. His great power is in the low pressure.

On the Bexar plains of Texas, among the hills of the Presidio, alongthe Rio Grande, low pressure is bred; it is nursed also in theAtchafalaya swamps of Louisiana; it moves by the way of Thibodeauxand Bonnet Carre. The southwest is a magazine of atmosphericdisasters. Low pressure may be no worse than the others: it isbetter known, and is most used to inspire terror. It can be summonedany time also from the everglades of Florida, from the morasses ofthe Okeechobee.

When the New-Englander sees this in his news paper, he knows what itmeans. He has twenty-four hours' warning; but what can he do?Nothing but watch its certain advance by telegraph. He suffers inanticipation. That is what Old Prob. has brought about, suffering byanticipation. This low pressure advances against the wind. The windis from the northeast. Nothing could be more unpleasant than anortheast wind? Wait till low pressure joins it. Together they makespring in New England. A northeast storm from the southwest!—thereis no bitterer satire than this. It lasts three days. After thatthe weather changes into something winter-like.

A solitary song-sparrow, without a note of joy, hops along the snowto the dining-room window, and, turning his little head aside, looksup. He is hungry and cold. Little Minnette, clasping her handsbehind her back, stands and looks at him, and says, "Po' birdie!"They appear to understand each other. The sparrow gets his crumb;but he knows too much to let Minnette get hold of him. Neither ofthese little things could take care of itself in a New-England springnot in the depths of it. This is what the father of Minnette,looking out of the window upon the wide waste of snow, and theevergreens bent to the ground with the weight of it, says, "It lookslike the depths of spring." To this has man come: to hisfacetiousness has succeeded sarcasm. It is the first of May.

Then follows a day of bright sun and blue sky. The birds open themorning with a lively chorus. In spite of Auster, Euroclydon, lowpressure, and the government bureau, things have gone forward. Bythe roadside, where the snow has just melted, the grass is of thecolor of emerald. The heart leaps to see it. On the lawn there aretwenty robins, lively, noisy, worm-seeking. Their yellow breastscontrast with the tender green of the newly-springing clover andherd's-grass. If they would only stand still, we might think thedandelions had blossomed. On an evergreen-bough, looking at them,sits a graceful bird, whose back is bluer than the sky. There is ared tint on the tips of the boughs of the hard maple. With Nature,color is life. See, already, green, yellow, blue, red! In a fewdays—is it not so?—through the green masses of the trees will flashthe orange of the oriole, the scarlet of the tanager; perhapstomorrow.

But, in fact, the next day opens a little sourly. It is almost clearoverhead: but the clouds thicken on the horizon; they look leaden;they threaten rain. It certainly will rain: the air feels like rain,or snow. By noon it begins to snow, and you hear the desolate cry ofthe phoebe-bird. It is a fine snow, gentle at first; but it soondrives in swerving lines, for the wind is from the southwest, fromthe west, from the northeast, from the zenith (one of the ordinarywinds of New England), from all points of the compass. The fine snowbecomes rain; it becomes large snow; it melts as it falls; it freezesas it falls. At last a storm sets in, and night shuts down upon thebleak scene.

During the night there is a change. It thunders and lightens.Toward morning there is a brilliant display of aurora borealis. Thisis a sign of colder weather.

The gardener is in despair; so is the sportsman. The trout take nopleasure in biting in such weather.

Paragraphs appear in the newspapers, copied from the paper of lastyear, saying that this is the most severe spring in thirty years.Every one, in fact, believes that it is, and also that next year thespring will be early. Man is the most gullible of creatures.

And with reason: he trusts his eyes, and not his instinct. Duringthis most sour weather of the year, the anemone blossoms; and, almostimmediately after, the fairy pencil, the spring beauty, the dog-toothviolet, and the true violet. In clouds and fog, and rain and snow,and all discouragement, Nature pushes on her forces with progressivehaste and rapidity. Before one is aware, all the lawns and meadowsare deeply green, the trees are opening their tender leaves. In aburst of sunshine the cherry-trees are white, the Judas-tree is pink,the hawthorns give a sweet smell. The air is full of sweetness; theworld, of color.

In the midst of a chilling northeast storm the ground is strewed withthe white-and-pink blossoms from the apple-trees. The next day themercury stands at eighty degrees. Summer has come.

There was no Spring.

The winter is over. You think so? Robespierre thought theRevolution was over in the beginning of his last Thermidor. He losthis head after that.

When the first buds are set, and the corn is up, and the cucumbershave four leaves, a malicious frost steals down from the north andkills them in a night.

That is the last effort of spring. The mercury then mounts to ninetydegrees. The season has been long, but, on the whole, successful.Many people survive it.

PREFACE

When I consented to prepare this volume for a series, which shoulddeal with the notables of American history with some familiarity anddisregard of historic gravity, I did not anticipate the seriousnessof the task. But investigation of the subject showed me that whileCaptain John Smith would lend himself easily enough to the purelyfacetious treatment, there were historic problems worthy of adifferent handling, and that if the life of Smith was to be written,an effort should be made to state the truth, and to disentangle thecareer of the adventurer from the fables and misrepresentations thathave clustered about it.

The extant biographies of Smith, and the portions of the history ofVirginia that relate to him, all follow his own narrative, and accepthis estimate of himself, and are little more than paraphrases of hisstory as told by himself. But within the last twenty years some newcontemporary evidence has come to light, and special scholars haveexpended much critical research upon different portions of hiscareer. The result of this modern investigation has been todiscredit much of the romance gathered about Smith and Pocahontas,and a good deal to reduce his heroic proportions. A vague report of--these scholarly studies has gone abroad, but no effort has been madeto tell the real story of Smith as a connected whole in the light ofthe new researches.

This volume is an effort to put in popular form the truth aboutSmith's adventures, and to estimate his exploits and character. Forthis purpose I have depended almost entirely upon originalcontemporary material, illumined as it now is by the labors ofspecial editors. I believe that I have read everything that isattributed to his pen, and have compared his own accounts with othercontemporary narratives, and I think I have omitted the perusal oflittle that could throw any light upon his life or character. Forthe early part of his career—before he came to Virginia—there isabsolutely no authority except Smith himself; but when he emergesfrom romance into history, he can be followed and checked bycontemporary evidence. If he was always and uniformly untrustworthyit would be less perplexing to follow him, but his liability to tellthe truth when vanity or prejudice does not interfere is annoying tothe careful student.

As far as possible I have endeavored to let the actors in these pagestell their own story, and I have quoted freely from Capt. Smithhimself, because it is as a writer that he is to be judged no lessthan as an actor. His development of the Pocahontas legend has beencarefully traced, and all the known facts about that Indian—orIndese, as some of the old chroniclers call the female NorthAmericans—have been consecutively set forth in separate chapters.The book is not a history of early Virginia, nor of the times ofSmith, but merely a study of his life and writings. If my estimateof the character of Smith is not that which his biographers haveentertained, and differs from his own candid opinion, I can onlyplead that contemporary evidence and a collation of his own storiesshow that he was mistaken. I am not aware that there has been beforeany systematic effort to collate his different accounts of hisexploits. If he had ever undertaken the task, he might havedisturbed that serene opinion of himself which marks him as a man whor*alized his own ideals.

The works used in this study are, first, the writings of Smith, whichare as follows:

"A True Relation," etc., London, 1608.

"A Map of Virginia, Description and Appendix," Oxford, 1612.

"A Description of New England," etc., London, 1616.

"New England's Trials," etc., London, 1620. Second edition,enlarged, 1622.

"The Generall Historie," etc., London, 1624. Reissued, with date oftitle-page altered, in 1626, 1627, and twice in 1632.

"An Accidence: or, The Pathway to Experience," etc., London, 1626.

"A Sea Grammar," etc., London, 1627. Also editions in 1653 and 1699.

"The True Travels," etc., London, 1630.

"Advertisem*nts for the Unexperienced Planters of New England," etc.,
London, 1631.

Other authorities are:

"The Historie of Travaile into Virginia," etc., by William Strachey,
Secretary of the colony 1609 to 1612. First printed for the Hakluyt
Society, London, 1849.

"Newport's Relatyon," 1607. Am. Ant. Soc., Vol. 4.

"Wingfield's Discourse," etc., 1607. Am. Ant. Soc., Vol. 4.

"Purchas his Pilgrimage," London, 1613.

"Purchas his Pilgrimes," London, 1625-6.

"Ralph Hamor's True Discourse," etc., London, 1615.

"Relation of Virginia," by Henry Spelman, 1609. First printed by J.
F. Hunnewell, London, 1872.

"History of the Virginia Company in London," by Edward D. Neill,
Albany, 1869.

"William Stith's History of Virginia," 1753, has been consulted forthe charters and letters-patent. The Pocahontas discussion has beenfollowed in many magazine papers. I am greatly indebted to thescholarly labors of Charles Deane, LL.D., the accomplished editor ofthe "True Relation," and other Virginia monographs. I wish also toacknowledge the courtesy of the librarians of the Astor, the Lenox,the New York Historical, Yale, and Cornell libraries, and of Dr. J.Hammond Trumbull, the custodian of the Brinley collection, and thekindness of Mr. S. L. M. Barlow of New York, who is ever ready togive students access to his rich "Americana."

C. D. W.
HARTFORD, June, 1881

BIRTH AND TRAINING

Fortunate is the hero who links his name romantically with that of awoman. A tender interest in his fame is assured. Still morefortunate is he if he is able to record his own achievements and giveto them that form and color and importance which they assume in hisown gallant consciousness. Captain John Smith, the first of anhonored name, had this double good fortune.

We are indebted to him for the glowing picture of a knight-errant ofthe sixteenth century, moving with the port of a swash-buckler acrossthe field of vision, wherever cities were to be taken and headscracked in Europe, Asia, and Africa, and, in the language of one ofhis laureates

"To see bright honor sparkled all in gore."

But we are specially his debtor for adventures on our own continent,narrated with naivete and vigor by a pen as direct and clear-cuttingas the sword with which he shaved off the heads of the Turks, and forone of the few romances that illumine our early history.

Captain John Smith understood his good fortune in being the recorderof his own deeds, and he preceded Lord Beaconsfield (in "Endymion")in his appreciation of the value of the influence of women upon thecareer of a hero. In the dedication of his "General Historie" toFrances, duch*ess of Richmond, he says:

"I have deeply hazarded myself in doing and suffering, and why shouldI sticke to hazard my reputation in recording? He that acteth twoparts is the more borne withall if he come short, or fayle in one ofthem. Where shall we looke to finde a Julius Caesar whoseatchievments shine as cleare in his owne Commentaries, as they did inthe field? I confesse, my hand though able to wield a weapon amongthe Barbarous, yet well may tremble in handling a Pen among so manyjudicious; especially when I am so bold as to call so piercing and soglorious an Eye, as your Grace, to view these poore ragged lines.Yet my comfort is that heretofore honorable and vertuous Ladies, andcomparable but amongst themselves, have offered me rescue andprotection in my greatest dangers: even in forraine parts, I havefelt reliefe from that sex. The beauteous Lady Tragabigzanda, when Iwas a slave to the Turks, did all she could to secure me. When Iovercame the Bashaw of Nalbrits in Tartaria, the charitable LadyCallamata supplyed my necessities. In the utmost of my extremities,that blessed Pokahontas, the great King's daughter of Virginia, oftsaved my life. When I escaped the cruelties of Pirats and mostfurious stormes, a long time alone in a small Boat at Sea, and drivenashore in France, the good Lady Chanoyes bountifully assisted me."

It is stated in his "True Travels" that John Smith was born inWilloughby, in Lincolnshire. The year of his birth is not given, butit was probably in 1579, as it appears by the portrait prefixed tothat work that he was aged 37 years in 1616. We are able to add alsothat the rector of the Willoughby Rectory, Alford, finds in theregister an entry of the baptism of John, son of George Smith, underdate of Jan. 9, 1579. His biographers, following his account,represent him as of ancient lineage: "His father actually descendedfrom the ancient Smiths of Crudley in Lancashire, his mother from theRickands at great Heck in Yorkshire;" but the circ*mstances of hisboyhood would indicate that like many other men who have madethemselves a name, his origin was humble. If it had been otherwisehe would scarcely have been bound as an apprentice, nor had so muchdifficulty in his advancement. But the boy was born with a merrydisposition, and in his earliest years was impatient for adventure.The desire to rove was doubtless increased by the nature of hisnative shire, which offered every inducement to the lad of spirit toleave it.

Lincolnshire is the most uninteresting part of all England. It isfrequently water-logged till late in the summer: invisible a part ofthe year, when it emerges it is mostly a dreary flat. Willoughby isa considerable village in this shire, situated about three miles anda half southeastward from Alford. It stands just on the edge of thechalk hills whose drives gently slope down to the German Ocean, andthe scenery around offers an unvarying expanse of flats. All thevillages in this part of Lincolnshire exhibit the same character.The name ends in by, the Danish word for hamlet or small village, andwe can measure the progress of the Danish invasion of England by thenumber of towns which have the terminal by, distinguished from theSaxon thorpe, which generally ends the name of villages in Yorkshire.The population may be said to be Danish light-haired and blue-eyed.Such was John Smith. The sea was the natural element of hisneighbors, and John when a boy must have heard many stories of thesea and enticing adventures told by the sturdy mariners who wererecruited from the neighborhood of Willoughby, and whose oars hadoften cloven the Baltic Sea.

Willoughby boasts some antiquity. Its church is a spaciousstructure, with a nave, north and south aisles, and a chancel, and atower at the west end. In the floor is a stone with a Latininscription, in black letter, round the verge, to the memory of oneGilbert West, who died in 1404. The church is dedicated to St.Helen. In the village the Wesleyan Methodists also have a place ofworship. According to the parliamentary returns of 1825, the parishincluding the hamlet of Sloothby contained 108 houses and 514inhabitants. All the churches in Lincolnshire indicate the existenceof a much larger population who were in the habit of attendingservice than exists at present. Many of these now empty are of sizesufficient to accommodate the entire population of several villages.Such a one is Willoughby, which unites in its church the adjacentvillage of Sloothby.

The stories of the sailors and the contiguity of the salt water hadmore influence on the boy's mind than the free, schools of Alford andLouth which he attended, and when he was about thirteen he sold hisbooks and satchel and intended to run away to sea: but the death ofhis father stayed him. Both his parents being now dead, he was leftwith, he says, competent means; but his guardians regarding hisestate more than himself, gave him full liberty and no money, so thathe was forced to stay at home.

At the age of fifteen he was bound apprentice to Mr. Thomas S.Tendall of Lynn. The articles, however, did not bind him very fast,for as his master refused to send him to sea, John took leave of hismaster and did not see him again for eight years. These detailsexhibit in the boy the headstrong independence of the man.

At length he found means to attach himself to a young son of thegreat soldier, Lord Willoughby, who was going into France. Thenarrative is not clear, but it appears that upon reaching Orleans, ina month or so the services of John were found to be of no value, andhe was sent back to his friends, who on his return generously gavehim ten shillings (out of his own estate) to be rid of him. He isnext heard of enjoying his liberty at Paris and making theacquaintance of a Scotchman named David Hume, who used his purse—tenshillings went a long ways in those days—and in return gave himletters of commendation to prefer him to King James. But the boy hada disinclination to go where he was sent. Reaching Rouen, and beingnearly out of money, he dropped down the river to Havre de Grace, andbegan to learn to be a soldier.

Smith says not a word of the great war of the Leaguers and Henry IV.,nor on which side he fought, nor is it probable that he cared. Buthe was doubtless on the side of Henry, as Havre was at this time inpossession of that soldier. Our adventurer not only makes noreference to the great religious war, nor to the League, nor toHenry, but he does not tell who held Paris when he visited it.Apparently state affairs did not interest him. His reference to a"peace" helps us to fix the date of his first adventure in France.Henry published the Edict of Nantes at Paris, April 13, 1598, and onthe 2d of May following, concluded the treaty of France with PhilipII. at Vervins, which closed the Spanish pretensions in France. TheDuc de Mercoeur (of whom we shall hear later as Smith's "Duke ofMercury" in Hungary), Duke of Lorraine, was allied with the Guises inthe League, and had the design of holding Bretagne under Spanishprotection. However, fortune was against him and he submitted toHenry in February, 1598, with no good grace. Looking about for anopportunity to distinguish himself, he offered his services to theEmperor Rudolph to fight the Turks, and it is said led an army of hisFrench followers, numbering 15,000, in 1601, to Hungary, to raise thesiege of Coniza, which was beleaguered by Ibrahim Pasha with 60,000men.

Chance of fighting and pay failing in France by reason of the peace,he enrolled himself under the banner of one of the roving andfighting captains of the time, who sold their swords in the bestmarket, and went over into the Low Countries, where he hacked andhewed away at his fellow-men, all in the way of business, for threeor four years. At the end of that time he bethought himself that hehad not delivered his letters to Scotland. He embarked at Aucusanfor Leith, and seems to have been shipwrecked, and detained byillness in the "holy isle" in Northumberland, near Barwick. On hisrecovery he delivered his letters, and received kind treatment fromthe Scots; but as he had no money, which was needed to make his wayas a courtier, he returned to Willoughby.

The family of Smith is so "ancient" that the historians of the countyof Lincoln do not allude to it, and only devote a brief paragraph tothe great John himself. Willoughby must have been a dull place tohim after his adventures, but he says he was glutted with company,and retired into a woody pasture, surrounded by forests, a good waysfrom any town, and there built himself a pavilion of boughs—lesssubstantial than the cabin of Thoreau at Walden Pond—and there heheroically slept in his clothes, studied Machiavelli's "Art of War,"read "Marcus Aurelius," and exercised on his horse with lance andring. This solitary conduct got him the name of a hermit, whose foodwas thought to be more of venison than anything else, but in fact hismen kept him supplied with provisions. When John had indulged inthis ostentatious seclusion for a time, he allowed himself to bedrawn out of it by the charming discourse of a noble Italian namedTheodore Palaloga, who just then was Rider to Henry, Earl of Lincoln,and went to stay with him at Tattershall. This was an ancient town,with a castle, which belonged to the Earls of Lincoln, and wassituated on the River Bane, only fourteen miles from Boston, a namethat at once establishes a connection between Smith's native countyand our own country, for it is nearly as certain that St. Botolphfounded a monastery at Boston, Lincoln, in the year 654, as it isthat he founded a club afterwards in Boston, Massachusetts.

Whatever were the pleasures of Tattershall, they could not longcontent the restless Smith, who soon set out again for theNetherlands in search of adventures.

The life of Smith, as it is related by himself, reads like that of abelligerent tramp, but it was not uncommon in his day, nor is it inours, whenever America produces soldiers of fortune who are ready,for a compensation, to take up the quarrels of Egyptians or Chinese,or go wherever there is fighting and booty. Smith could now handlearms and ride a horse, and longed to go against the Turks, whoseanti-Christian contests filled his soul with lamentations; andbesides he was tired of seeing Christians slaughter each other. Likemost heroes, he had a vivid imagination that made him credulous, andin the Netherlands he fell into the toils of three French gallants,one of whom pretended to be a great lord, attended by his gentlemen,who persuaded him to accompany them to the "duch*ess of Mercury,"whose lord was then a general of Rodolphus of Hungary, whose favorthey could command. Embarking with these arrant cheats, the vesselreached the coast of Picardy, where his comrades contrived to takeashore their own baggage and Smith's trunk, containing his money andgoodly apparel, leaving him on board. When the captain, who was inthe plot, was enabled to land Smith the next day, the noble lords haddisappeared with the luggage, and Smith, who had only a single pieceof gold in his pocket, was obliged to sell his cloak to pay hispassage.

Thus stripped, he roamed about Normandy in a forlorn condition,occasionally entertained by honorable persons who had heard of hismisfortunes, and seeking always means of continuing his travels,wandering from port to port on the chance of embarking on a man-of-war. Once he was found in a forest near dead with grief and cold,and rescued by a rich farmer; shortly afterwards, in a grove inBrittany, he chanced upon one of the gallants who had robbed him, andthe two out swords and fell to cutting. Smith had the satisfactionof wounding the rascal, and the inhabitants of a ruined tower nearby, who witnessed the combat, were quite satisfied with the event.

Our hero then sought out the Earl of Ployer, who had been brought upin England during the French wars, by whom he was refurnished betterthan ever. After this streak of luck, he roamed about France,

viewing the castles and strongholds, and at length embarked atMarseilles on a ship for Italy. Rough weather coming on, the vesselanchored under the lee of the little isle St. Mary, off Nice, inSavoy.

The passengers on board, among whom were many pilgrims bound forRome, regarded Smith as a Jonah, cursed him for a Huguenot, sworethat his nation were all pirates, railed against Queen Elizabeth, anddeclared that they never should have fair weather so long as he wason board. To end the dispute, they threw him into the sea. But Godgot him ashore on the little island, whose only inhabitants weregoats and a few kine. The next day a couple of trading vesselsanchored near, and he was taken off and so kindly used that hedecided to cast in his fortune with them. Smith's discourse of hisadventures so entertained the master of one of the vessels, who isdescribed as "this noble Britaine, his neighbor, Captaine la Roche,of Saint Malo," that the much-tossed wanderer was accepted as afriend. They sailed to the Gulf of Turin, to Alessandria, where theydischarged freight, then up to Scanderoon, and coasting for some timeamong the Grecian islands, evidently in search of more freight, theyat length came round to Cephalonia, and lay to for some days betwixtthe isle of Corfu and the Cape of Otranto. Here it presentlyappeared what sort of freight the noble Britaine, Captain la Roche,was looking for.

An argosy of Venice hove in sight, and Captaine la Roche desired tospeak to her. The reply was so "untoward" that a man was slain,whereupon the Britaine gave the argosy a broadside, and then hisstem, and then other broadsides. A lively fight ensued, in which theBritaine lost fifteen men, and the argosy twenty, and thensurrendered to save herself from sinking. The noble Britaine andJohn Smith then proceeded to rifle her. He says that "the Silkes,Velvets, Cloth of Gold, and Tissue, Pyasters, Chiqueenes, andSuitanies, which is gold and silver, they unloaded in four-and-twentyhours was wonderful, whereof having sufficient, and tired with toils,they cast her off with her company, with as much good merchandise aswould have freighted another Britaine, that was but two hundredTunnes, she four or five hundred." Smith's share of this booty wasmodest. When the ship returned he was set ashore at "the Road ofAntibo in Piamon," "with five hundred chiqueenes [sequins] and alittle box God sent him worth neere as much more." He alwaysdevoutly acknowledged his dependence upon divine Providence, and tookwillingly what God sent him.

II

FIGHTING IN HUNGARY

Smith being thus "refurnished," made the tour of Italy, satisfiedhimself with the rarities of Rome, where he saw Pope Clement theEighth and many cardinals creep up the holy stairs, and with the faircity of Naples and the kingdom's nobility; and passing through thenorth he came into Styria, to the Court of Archduke Ferdinand; and,introduced by an Englishman and an Irish Jesuit to the notice ofBaron Kisell, general of artillery, he obtained employment, and wentto Vienna with Colonel Voldo, Earl of Meldritch, with whose regimenthe was to serve.

He was now on the threshold of his long-desired campaign against theTurks. The arrival on the scene of this young man, who was scarcelyout of his teens, was a shadow of disaster to the Turks. They hadbeen carrying all before them. Rudolph II., Emperor of Germany, wasa weak and irresolute character, and no match for the enterprisingSultan, Mahomet III., who was then conducting the invasion of Europe.The Emperor's brother, the Archduke Mathias, who was to succeed him,and Ferdinand, Duke of Styria, also to become Emperor of Germany,were much abler men, and maintained a good front against the Moslemsin Lower Hungary, but the Turks all the time steadily advanced. Theyhad long occupied Buda (Pesth), and had been in possession of thestronghold of Alba Regalis for some sixty years. Before Smith'sadvent they had captured the important city of Caniza, and just as hereached the ground they had besieged the town of Olumpagh, with twothousand men. But the addition to the armies of Germany, France,Styria, and Hungary of John Smith, "this English gentleman," as hestyles himself, put a new face on the war, and proved the ruin of theTurkish cause. The Bashaw of Buda was soon to feel the effect ofthis re-enforcement.

Caniza is a town in Lower Hungary, north of the River Drave, and justwest of the Platen Sea, or Lake Balatin, as it is also called. Duenorth of Caniza a few miles, on a bend of the little River Raab(which empties into the Danube), and south of the town of Kerment,lay Smith's town of Olumpagh, which we are able to identify on a mapof the period as Olimacum or Oberlymback. In this strong town theTurks had shut up the garrison under command of Governor Ebersbraughtso closely that it was without intelligence or hope of succor.

In this strait, the ingenious John Smith, who was present in thereconnoitering army in the regiment of the Earl of Meldritch, came tothe aid of Baron Kisell, the general of artillery, with a plan ofcommunication with the besieged garrison. Fortunately Smith had madethe acquaintance of Lord Ebersbraught at Gratza, in Styria, and had(he says) communicated to him a system of signaling a message by theuse of torches. Smith seems to have elaborated this method ofsignals, and providentially explained it to Lord Ebersbraught, as ifhe had a presentiment of the latter's use of it. He divided thealphabet into two parts, from A to L and from M to Z. Letters wereindicated and words spelled by the means of torches: "The first part,from A to L, is signified by showing and holding one linke so oft asthere is letters from A to that letter you name; the other part, fromM to Z, is mentioned by two lights in like manner. The end of a wordis signifien by showing of three lights."

General Kisell, inflamed by this strange invention, which Smith madeplain to him, furnished him guides, who conducted him to a highmountain, seven miles distant from the town, where he flashed historches and got a reply from the governor. Smith signaled that theywould charge on the east of the town in the night, and at the alarumEbersbraught was to sally forth. General Kisell doubted that heshould be able to relieve the town by this means, as he had only tenthousand men; but Smith, whose fertile brain was now in full action,and who seems to have assumed charge of the campaign, hit upon astratagem for the diversion and confusion of the Turks.

On the side of the town opposite the proposed point of attack lay theplain of Hysnaburg (Eisnaburg on Ortelius's map). Smith fastened twoor three charred pieces of match to divers small lines of an hundredfathoms in length, armed with powder. Each line was tied to a stakeat each end. After dusk these lines were set up on the plain, andbeing fired at the instant the alarm was given, they seemed to theTurks like so many rows of musketeers. While the Turks thereforeprepared to repel a great army from that side, Kisell attacked withhis ten thousand men, Ebersbraught sallied out and fell upon theTurks in the trenches, all the enemy on that side were slain ordrowned, or put to flight. And while the Turks were busy routingSmith's sham musketeers, the Christians threw a couple of thousandtroops into the town. Whereupon the Turks broke up the siege andretired to Caniza. For this exploit General Kisell received greathonor at Kerment, and Smith was rewarded with the rank of captain,and the command of two hundred and fifty horsem*n. From this timeour hero must figure as Captain John Smith. The rank is not high,but he has made the title great, just as he has made the name of JohnSmith unique.

After this there were rumors of peace for these tormented countries;but the Turks, who did not yet appreciate the nature of this force,called John Smith, that had come into the world against them, did notintend peace, but went on levying soldiers and launching them intoHungary. To oppose these fresh invasions, Rudolph II., aided by theChristian princes, organized three armies: one led by the ArchdukeMathias and his lieutenant, Duke Mercury, to defend Low Hungary; thesecond led by Ferdinand, the Archduke of Styria, and the Duke ofMantua, his lieutenant, to regain Caniza; the third by Gonzago,Governor of High Hungary, to join with Georgio Busca, to make anabsolute conquest of Transylvania.

In pursuance of this plan, Duke Mercury, with an army of thirtythousand, whereof nearly ten thousand were French, besieged Stowell-Weisenberg, otherwise called Alba Regalis, a place so strong by artand nature that it was thought impregnable.

This stronghold, situated on the northeast of the Platen Sea, was,like Caniza and Oberlympack, one of the Turkish advanced posts, bymeans of which they pushed forward their operations from Buda on theDanube.

This noble friend of Smith, the Duke of Mercury, whom Haylyn stylesDuke Mercurio, seems to have puzzled the biographers of Smith. Infact, the name of "Mercury" has given a mythological air to Smith'snarration and aided to transfer it to the region of romance. He was,however, as we have seen, identical with a historical character ofsome importance, for the services he rendered to the Church of Rome,and a commander of some considerable skill. He is no other thanPhilip de Lorraine, Duc de Mercceur.'

[So far as I know, Dr. Edward Eggleston was the first to identifyhim. There is a sketch of him in the "Biographie Universelle," and alife with an account of his exploits in Hungary, entitled:Histoire de Duc Mercoeur, par Bruseles de Montplain Champs, Cologne,1689-97]

At the siege of Alba Regalis, the Turks gained several successes bynight sallies, and, as usual, it was not till Smith came to the frontwith one of his ingenious devices that the fortune of war changed.The Earl Meldritch, in whose regiment Smith served, having heard fromsome Christians who escaped from the town at what place there werethe greatest assemblies and throngs of people in the city, causedCaptain Smith to put in practice his "fiery dragons." Theseinstruments of destruction are carefully described: "Having preparedfortie or fiftie round-bellied earthen pots, and filled them withhand Gunpowder, then covered them with Pitch, mingled with Brimstoneand Turpentine, and quartering as many Musket-bullets, that hungtogether but only at the center of the division, stucke them round inthe mixture about the pots, and covered them againe with the samemixture, over that a strong sear-cloth, then over all a goodethicknesse of Towze-match, well tempered with oyle of Linseed,Campheer, and powder of Brimstone, these he fitly placed in slings,graduated so neere as they could to the places of these assemblies."

These missiles of Smith's invention were flung at midnight, when thealarum was given, and "it was a perfect sight to see the shortflaming course of their flight in the air, but presently after theirfall, the lamentable noise of the miserable slaughtered Turkes wasmost wonderful to heare."

While Smith was amusing the Turks in this manner, the Earl Roswormeplanned an attack on the opposite suburb, which was defended by amuddy lake, supposed to be impassable. Furnishing his men withbundles of sedge, which they threw before them as they advanced inthe dark night, the lake was made passable, the suburb surprised, andthe captured guns of the Turks were turned upon them in the city towhich they had retreated. The army of the Bashaw was cut to piecesand he himself captured.

The Earl of Meldritch, having occupied the town, repaired the wallsand the ruins of this famous city that had been in the possession ofthe Turks for some threescore years.

It is not our purpose to attempt to trace the meteoric course ofCaptain Smith in all his campaigns against the Turks, only toindicate the large part he took in these famous wars for thepossession of Eastern Europe. The siege of Alba Regalis must havebeen about the year 1601—Smith never troubles himself with anydates—and while it was undecided, Mahomet III.—this was the promptSultan who made his position secure by putting to death nineteen ofhis brothers upon his accession—raised sixty thousand troops for itsrelief or its recovery. The Duc de Mercoeur went out to meet thisarmy, and encountered it in the plains of Girke. In the firstskirmishes the Earl Meldritch was very nearly cut off, although hemade "his valour shine more bright than his armour, which seemed thenpainted with Turkish blood." Smith himself was sore wounded and hadhis horse slain under him. The campaign, at first favorable to theTurks, was inconclusive, and towards winter the Bashaw retired toBuda. The Duc de Mercoeur then divided his army. The Earl ofRosworme was sent to assist the Archduke Ferdinand, who was besiegingCaniza; the Earl of Meldritch, with six thousand men, was sent toassist Georgio Busca against the Transylvanians; and the Duc deMercoeur set out for France to raise new forces. On his way hereceived great honor at Vienna, and staying overnight at Nuremberg,he was royally entertained by the Archdukes Mathias and Maximilian.The next morning after the feast—how it chanced is not known—he wasfound dead His brother-inlaw died two days afterwards, and the heartsof both, with much sorrow, were carried into France.

We now come to the most important event in the life of Smith beforehe became an adventurer in Virginia, an event which shows Smith'sreadiness to put in practice the chivalry which had in the oldchronicles influenced his boyish imagination; and we approach it withthe satisfaction of knowing that it loses nothing in Smith'snarration.

It must be mentioned that Transylvania, which the Earl of Meldritch,accompanied by Captain Smith, set out to relieve, had long been in adisturbed condition, owing to internal dissensions, of which theTurks took advantage. Transylvania, in fact, was a Turkishdependence, and it gives us an idea of the far reach of the Mosleminfluence in Europe, that Stephen VI., vaivode of Transylvania, was,on the commendation of Sultan Armurath III., chosen King of Poland.

To go a little further back than the period of Smith's arrival, JohnII. of Transylvania was a champion of the Turk, and an enemy ofFerdinand and his successors. His successor, Stephen VI., surnamedBattori, or Bathor, was made vaivode by the Turks, and afterwards, aswe have said, King of Poland. He was succeeded in 1575 by hisbrother Christopher Battori, who was the first to drop the title ofvaivode and assume that of Prince of Transylvania. The son ofChristopher, Sigismund Battori, shook off the Turkish bondage,defeated many of their armies, slew some of their pashas, and gainedthe title of the Scanderbeg of the times in which he lived. Not ableto hold out, however, against so potent an adversary, he resigned hisestate to the Emperor Rudolph II., and received in exchange thedukedoms of Oppelon and Ratibor in Silesia, with an annual pension offifty thousand joachims. The pension not being well paid, Sigismundmade another resignation of his principality to his cousin AndrewBattori, who had the ill luck to be slain within the year by thevaivode of Valentia. Thereupon Rudolph, Emperor and King of Hungary,was acknowledged Prince of Transylvania. But the Transylvaniasoldiers did not take kindly to a foreign prince, and behaved sounsoldierly that Sigismund was called back. But he was unable tosettle himself in his dominions, and the second time he left hiscountry in the power of Rudolph and retired to Prague, where, in1615, he died unlamented.

It was during this last effort of Sigismund to regain his positionthat the Earl of Meldritch, accompanied by Smith, went toTransylvania, with the intention of assisting Georgio Busca, who wasthe commander of the Emperor's party. But finding Prince Sigismundin possession of the most territory and of the hearts of the people,the earl thought it best to assist the prince against the Turk,rather than Busca against the prince. Especially was he inclined tothat side by the offer of free liberty of booty for his worn andunpaid troops, of what they could get possession of from the Turks.

This last consideration no doubt persuaded the troops that Sigismundhad "so honest a cause." The earl was born in Transylvania, and theTurks were then in possession of his father's country. In thisdistracted state of the land, the frontiers had garrisons among themountains, some of which held for the emperor, some for the prince,and some for the Turk. The earl asked leave of the prince to make anattempt to regain his paternal estate. The prince, glad of such anally, made him camp-master of his army, and gave him leave to plunderthe Turks. Accordingly the earl began to make incursions of thefrontiers into what Smith calls the Land of Zarkam—among rockymountains, where were some Turks, some Tartars, but most Brandittoes,Renegadoes, and such like, which he forced into the Plains of Regall,where was a city of men and fortifications, strong in itself, and soenvironed with mountains that it had been impregnable in all thesewars.

It must be confessed that the historians and the map-makers did notalways attach the importance that Smith did to the battles in whichhe was conspicuous, and we do not find the Land of Zarkam or the cityof Regall in the contemporary chronicles or atlases. But the regionis sufficiently identified. On the River Maruch, or Morusus, was thetown of Alba Julia, or Weisenberg, the residence of the vaivode orPrince of Transylvania. South of this capital was the townMillenberg, and southwest of this was a very strong fortress,commanding a narrow pass leading into Transylvania out of Hungary,probably where the River Maruct: broke through the mountains. Weinfer that it was this pass that the earl captured by a stratagem,and carrying his army through it, began the siege of Regall in theplain. "The earth no sooner put on her green habit," says ourknight-errant," than the earl overspread her with his troops."Regall occupied a strong fortress on a promontory and the Christiansencamped on the plain before it.

In the conduct of this campaign, we pass at once into the age ofchivalry, about which Smith had read so much. We cannot butrecognize that this is his opportunity. His idle boyhood had beensoaked in old romances, and he had set out in his youth to do whatequally dreamy but less venturesome devourers of old chronicles werecontent to read about. Everything arranged itself as Smith wouldhave had it. When the Christian army arrived, the Turks sallied outand gave it a lively welcome, which cost each side about fifteenhundred men. Meldritch had but eight thousand soldiers, but he wasre-enforced by the arrival of nine thousand more, with six-and-twentypieces of ordnance, under Lord Zachel Moyses, the general of thearmy, who took command of the whole.

After the first skirmish the Turks remained within their fortress,the guns of which commanded the plain, and the Christians spent amonth in intrenching themselves and mounting their guns.

The Turks, who taught Europe the art of civilized war, behaved allthis time in a courtly and chivalric manner, exchanging with thebesiegers wordy compliments until such time as the latter were readyto begin. The Turks derided the slow progress of the works, inquiredif their ordnance was in pawn, twitted them with growing fat for wantof exercise, and expressed the fear that the Christians should departwithout making an assault.

In order to make the time pass pleasantly, and exactly in accordancewith the tales of chivalry which Smith had read, the Turkish Bashawin the fortress sent out his challenge: "That to delight the ladies,who did long to see some courtlike pastime, the Lord Tubashaw diddefy any captaine that had the command of a company, who durst combatwith him for his head."

This handsome offer to swap heads was accepted; lots were cast forthe honor of meeting the lord, and, fortunately for us, the choicefell upon an ardent fighter of twenty-three years, named Captain JohnSmith. Nothing was wanting to give dignity to the spectacle. Trucewas made; the ramparts of this fortress-city in the mountains (whichwe cannot find on the map) were "all beset with faire Dames and menin Armes"; the Christians were drawn up in battle array; and upon thetheatre thus prepared the Turkish Bashaw, armed and mounted, enteredwith a flourish of hautboys; on his shoulders were fixed a pair ofgreat wings, compacted of eagles' feathers within a ridge of silverrichly garnished with gold and precious stones; before him was ajanissary bearing his lance, and a janissary walked at each sideleading his steed.

This gorgeous being Smith did not keep long waiting. Riding into thefield with a flourish of trumpets, and only a simple page to bear hislance, Smith favored the Bashaw with a courteous salute, tookposition, charged at the signal, and before the Bashaw could say"Jack Robinson," thrust his lance through the sight of his beaver,face, head and all, threw him dead to the ground, alighted, unbracedhis helmet, and cut off his head. The whole affair was over sosuddenly that as a pastime for ladies it must have beendisappointing. The Turks came out and took the headless trunk, andSmith, according to the terms of the challenge, appropriated the headand presented it to General Moyses.

This ceremonious but still hasty procedure excited the rage of oneGrualgo, the friend of the Bashaw, who sent a particular challenge toSmith to regain his friend's head or lose his own, together with hishorse and armor. Our hero varied the combat this time. The twocombatants shivered lances and then took to pistols; Smith received amark upon the "placard," but so wounded the Turk in his left arm thathe was unable to rule his horse. Smith then unhorsed him, cut offhis head, took possession of head, horse, and armor, but returned therich apparel and the body to his friends in the most gentlemanlymanner.

Captain Smith was perhaps too serious a knight to see the humor ofthese encounters, but he does not lack humor in describing them, andhe adopted easily the witty courtesies of the code he wasillustrating. After he had gathered two heads, and the siege stilldragged, he became in turn the challenger, in phrase as courteouslyand grimly facetious as was permissible, thus:

"To delude time, Smith, with so many incontradictible perswadingreasons, obtained leave that the Ladies might know he was not so muchenamored of their servants' heads, but if any Turke of their rankewould come to the place of combat to redeem them, should have alsohis, upon like conditions, if he could winne it."

This considerate invitation was accepted by a person whom Smith, withhis usual contempt for names, calls "Bonny Mulgro." It seemsdifficult to immortalize such an appellation, and it is a pity thatwe have not the real one of the third Turk whom Smith honored bykilling. But Bonny Mulgro, as we must call the worthiest foe thatSmith's prowess encountered, appeared upon the field. Smithunderstands working up a narration, and makes this combat long anddoubtful. The challenged party, who had the choice of weapons, hadmarked the destructiveness of his opponent's lance, and elected,therefore, to fight with pistols and battle-axes. The pistols provedharmless, and then the battle-axes came in play, whose piercing billsmade sometime the one, sometime the other, to have scarce sense tokeep their saddles. Smith received such a blow that he lost hisbattle-axe, whereat the Turks on the ramparts set up a great shout."The Turk prosecuted his advantage to the utmost of his power; yetthe other, what by the readiness of his horse, and his judgment anddexterity in such a business, beyond all men's expectations, by God'sassistance, not only avoided the Turke's violence, but having drawnhis Faulchion, pierced the Turke so under the Culets throrow backeand body, that although he alighted from his horse, he stood not longere he lost his head, as the rest had done."

There is nothing better than this in all the tales of chivalry, andJohn Smith's depreciation of his inability to equal Caesar indescribing his own exploits, in his dedicatory letter to the duch*essof Richmond, must be taken as an excess of modesty. We are preparedto hear that these beheadings gave such encouragement to the wholearmy that six thousand soldiers, with three led horses, each precededby a soldier bearing a Turk's head on a lance, turned out as a guardto Smith and conducted him to the pavilion of the general, to whom hepresented his trophies. General Moyses (occasionally Smith calls himMoses) took him in his arms and embraced him with much respect, andgave him a fair horse, richly furnished, a scimeter, and a belt worththree hundred ducats. And his colonel advanced him to the positionof sergeant-major of his regiment. If any detail was wanting toround out and reward this knightly performance in strict accord withthe old romances, it was supplied by the subsequent handsome conductof Prince Sigismund.

When the Christians had mounted their guns and made a couple ofbreaches in the walls of Regall, General Moyses ordered an attack onedark night "by the light that proceeded from the murdering musketsand peace-making cannon." The enemy were thus awaited, "whilst theirslothful governor lay in a castle on top of a high mountain, and likea valiant prince asketh what's the matter, when horrour and deathstood amazed at each other, to see who should prevail to make himvictorious." These descriptions show that Smith could handle the penas well as the battleaxe, and distinguish him from the more vulgarfighters of his time. The assault succeeded, but at great cost oflife. The Turks sent a flag of truce and desired a "composition,"but the earl, remembering the death of his father, continued tobatter the town and when he took it put all the men in arms to thesword, and then set their heads upon stakes along the walls, theTurks having ornamented the walls with Christian heads when theycaptured the fortress. Although the town afforded much pillage, theloss of so many troops so mixed the sour with the sweet that GeneralMoyses could only allay his grief by sacking three other towns,Veratis, Solmos, and Kapronka. Taking from these a couple ofthousand prisoners, mostly women and children, Earl Moyses marchednorth to Weisenberg (Alba Julia), and camped near the palace ofPrince Sigismund.

When Sigismund Battori came out to view his army he was madeacquainted with the signal services of Smith at "Olumpagh, Stowell-Weisenberg, and Regall," and rewarded him by conferring upon him,according to the law of—arms, a shield of arms with "three Turks'heads." This was granted by a letter-patent, in Latin, which isdated at "Lipswick, in Misenland, December 9, 1603" It recites thatSmith was taken captive by the Turks in Wallachia November 18, 1602;that he escaped and rejoined his fellow-soldiers. This patent,therefore, was not given at Alba Julia, nor until Prince Sigismundhad finally left his country, and when the Emperor was, in fact, thePrince of Transylvania. Sigismund styles himself, by the grace ofGod, Duke of Transylvania, etc. Appended to this patent, aspublished in Smith's "True Travels," is a certificate by WilliamSegar, knight of the garter and principal king of arms of England,that he had seen this patent and had recorded a copy of it in theoffice of the Herald of Armes. This certificate is dated August 19,1625, the year after the publication of the General Historie."

Smith says that Prince Sigismund also gave him his picture in gold,and granted him an annual pension of three hundred ducats. Thispromise of a pension was perhaps the most unsubstantial portion ofhis reward, for Sigismund himself became a pensioner shortly afterthe events last narrated.

The last mention of Sigismund by Smith is after his escape fromcaptivity in Tartaria, when this mirror of virtues had abdicated.Smith visited him at "Lipswicke in Misenland," and the Prince "gavehim his Passe, intimating the service he had done, and the honors hehad received, with fifteen hundred ducats of gold to repair hislosses." The "Passe" was doubtless the "Patent" before introduced,and we hear no word of the annual pension.

Affairs in Transylvania did not mend even after the capture ofRegall, and of the three Turks' heads, and the destruction of so manyvillages. This fruitful and strong country was the prey of faction,and became little better than a desert under the ravages of thecontending armies. The Emperor Rudolph at last determined to conquerthe country for himself, and sent Busca again with a large army.Sigismund finding himself poorly supported, treated again with theEmperor and agreed to retire to Silicia on a pension. But the EarlMoyses, seeing no prospect of regaining his patrimony, anddetermining not to be under subjection to the Germans, led his troopsagainst Busca, was defeated, and fled to join the Turks. Upon thisdesertion the Prince delivered up all he had to Busca and retired toPrague. Smith himself continued with the imperial party, in theregiment of Earl Meldritch. About this time the Sultan sent oneJeremy to be vaivode of Wallachia, whose tyranny caused the people torise against him, and he fled into Moldavia. Busca proclaimed LordRodoll vaivode in his stead. But Jeremy assembled an army of fortythousand Turks, Tartars, and Moldavians, and retired into Wallachia.Smith took active part in Rodoll's campaign to recover Wallachia, andnarrates the savage war that ensued. When the armies were encampednear each other at Raza and Argish, Rodoll cut off the heads ofparties he captured going to the Turkish camp, and threw them intothe enemy's trenches. Jeremy retorted by skinning alive theChristian parties he captured, hung their skins upon poles, and theircarcasses and heads on stakes by them. In the first battle Rodollwas successful and established himself in Wallachia, but Jeremyrallied and began ravaging the country. Earl Meldritch was sentagainst him, but the Turks' force was much superior, and theChristians were caught in a trap. In order to reach Rodoll, who wasat Rottenton, Meldritch with his small army was obliged to cut hisway through the solid body of the enemy. A device of Smith'sassisted him. He covered two or three hundred trunks—probably smallbranches of trees—with wild-fire. These fixed upon the heads oflances and set on fire when the troops charged in the night, soterrified the horses of the Turks that they fled in dismay.Meldritch was for a moment victorious, but when within three leaguesof Rottenton he was overpowered by forty thousand Turks, and the lastdesperate fight followed, in which nearly all the friends of thePrince were slain, and Smith himself was left for dead on the field.

On this bloody field over thirty thousand lay headless, armless,legless, all cut and mangled, who gave knowledge to the world howdear the Turk paid for his conquest of Transylvania and Wallachia—aconquest that might have been averted if the three Christian armieshad been joined against the "cruel devouring Turk." Among the slainwere many Englishmen, adventurers like the valiant Captain whom Smithnames, men who "left there their bodies in testimony of their minds."And there, "Smith among the slaughtered dead bodies, and many agasping soule with toils and wounds lay groaning among the rest, tillbeing found by the Pillagers he was able to live, and perceiving byhis armor and habit, his ransome might be better than his death, theyled him prisoner with many others." The captives were taken toAxopolis and all sold as slaves. Smith was bought by Bashaw Bogall,who forwarded him by way of Adrianople to Constantinople, to be aslave to his mistress. So chained by the necks in gangs of twentythey marched to the city of Constantine, where Smith was deliveredover to the mistress of the Bashaw, the young Charatza Tragabigzanda.

III

CAPTIVITY AND WANDERING

Our hero never stirs without encountering a romantic adventure.Noble ladies nearly always take pity on good-looking captains, andSmith was far from ill-favored. The charming Charatza delighted totalk with her slave, for she could speak Italian, and would feignherself too sick to go to the bath, or to accompany the other womenwhen they went to weep over the graves, as their custom is once aweek, in order to stay at home to hear from Smith how it was thatBogall took him prisoner, as the Bashaw had written her, and whetherSmith was a Bohemian lord conquered by the Bashaw's own hand, whoseransom could adorn her with the glory of her lover's conquests.Great must have been her disgust with Bogall when she heard that hehad not captured this handsome prisoner, but had bought him in theslave-market at Axopolis. Her compassion for her slave increased,and the hero thought he saw in her eyes a tender interest. But shehad no use for such a slave, and fearing her mother would sell him,she sent him to her brother, the Tymor Bashaw of Nalbrits in thecountry of Cambria, a province of Tartaria (wherever that may be).If all had gone on as Smith believed the kind lady intended, he mighthave been a great Bashaw and a mighty man in the Ottoman Empire, andwe might never have heard of Pocahontas. In sending him to herbrother, it was her intention, for she told him so, that he shouldonly sojourn in Nalbrits long enough to learn the language, and whatit was to be a Turk, till time made her master of herself. Smithhimself does not dissent from this plan to metamorphose him into aTurk and the husband of the beautiful Charatza Tragabigzanda. He hadno doubt that he was commended to the kindest treatment by herbrother; but Tymor "diverted all this to the worst of cruelty."Within an hour of his arrival, he was stripped naked, his head andface shaved as smooth as his hand, a ring of iron, with a long stakebowed like a sickle, riveted to his neck, and he was scantily clad ingoat's skin. There were many other slaves, but Smith being the last,was treated like a dog, and made the slave of slaves.

The geographer is not able to follow Captain Smith to Nalbrits.Perhaps Smith himself would have been puzzled to make a map of hisown career after he left Varna and passed the Black Sea and camethrough the straits of Niger into the Sea Disbacca, by some calledthe Lake Moetis, and then sailed some days up the River Bruapo toCambria, and two days more to Nalbrits, where the Tyrnor resided.

Smith wrote his travels in London nearly thirty years after, and itis difficult to say how much is the result of his own observation andhow much he appropriated from preceding romances. The Cambrians mayhave been the Cossacks, but his description of their habits and alsothose of the "Crym-Tartars" belongs to the marvels of Mandeville andother wide-eyed travelers. Smith fared very badly with the Tymor.The Tymor and his friends ate pillaw; they esteemed "samboyses" and"musselbits" great dainties," and yet," exclaims Smith, "but roundpies, full of all sorts of flesh they can get, chopped with varietyof herbs." Their best drink was "coffa" and sherbet, which is onlyhoney and water. The common victual of the others was the entrailsof horses and "ulgries" (goats?) cut up and boiled in a caldron with"cuskus," a preparation made from grain. This was served in greatbowls set in the ground, and when the other prisoners had raked itthoroughly with their foul fists the remainder was given to theChristians. The same dish of entrails used to be served not manyyears ago in Upper Egypt as a royal dish to entertain a distinguishedguest.

It might entertain but it would too long detain us to repeat Smith'sinformation, probably all secondhand, about this barbarous region.We must confine ourselves to the fortunes of our hero. All his hopeof deliverance from thraldom was in the love of Tragabigzanda, whomhe firmly believed was ignorant of his bad usage. But she made nosign. Providence at length opened a way for his escape. He wasemployed in thrashing in a field more than a league from the Tymor'shome. The Bashaw used to come to visit his slave there, and beat,spurn, and revile him. One day Smith, unable to control himselfunder these insults, rushed upon the Tymor, and beat out his brainswith a thrashing bat—"for they had no flails," he explains—put onthe dead man's clothes, hid the body in the straw, filled a knapsackwith corn, mounted his horse and rode away into the unknown desert,where he wandered many days before he found a way out. If we maybelieve Smith this wilderness was more civilized in one respect thansome parts of our own land, for on all the crossings of the roadswere guide-boards. After traveling sixteen days on the road thatleads to Muscova, Smith reached a Muscovite garrison on the RiverDon. The governor knocked off the iron from his neck and used him sokindly that he thought himself now risen from the dead. With hisusual good fortune there was a lady to take interest in him—"thegood Lady Callamata largely supplied all his wants."

After Smith had his purse filled by Sigismund he made a thorough tourof Europe, and passed into Spain, where being satisfied, as he says,with Europe and Asia, and understanding that there were wars inBarbary, this restless adventurer passed on into Morocco with severalcomrades on a French man-of-war. His observations on and tales aboutNorth Africa are so evidently taken from the books of other travelersthat they add little to our knowledge of his career. For some reasonhe found no fighting going on worth his while. But good fortuneattended his return. He sailed in a man-of-war with Captain Merham.They made a few unimportant captures, and at length fell in with twoSpanish men-of-war, which gave Smith the sort of entertainment hemost coveted. A sort of running fight, sometimes at close quarters,and with many boardings and repulses, lasted for a couple of days andnights, when having battered each other thoroughly and lost many men,the pirates of both nations separated and went cruising, no doubt,for more profitable game. Our wanderer returned to his native land,seasoned and disciplined for the part he was to play in the NewWorld. As Smith had traveled all over Europe and sojourned inMorocco, besides sailing the high seas, since he visited PrinceSigismund in December, 1603, it was probably in the year 1605 that hereached England. He had arrived at the manly age of twenty-sixyears, and was ready to play a man's part in the wonderful drama ofdiscovery and adventure upon which the Britons were then engaged.

IV

FIRST ATTEMPTS IN VIRGINIA

John Smith has not chosen to tell us anything of his life during theinterim—perhaps not more than a year and a half—between his returnfrom Morocco and his setting sail for Virginia. Nor do hiscontemporaries throw any light upon this period of his life.

One would like to know whether he went down to Willoughby and had areckoning with his guardians; whether he found any relations orfriends of his boyhood; whether any portion of his estate remained ofthat "competent means" which he says he inherited, but which does notseem to have been available in his career. From the time when he setout for France in his fifteenth year, with the exception of a shortsojourn in Willoughby seven or eight years after, he lived by hiswits and by the strong hand. His purse was now and then replenishedby a lucky windfall, which enabled him to extend his travels and seekmore adventures. This is the impression that his own story makesupon the reader in a narrative that is characterized by theboastfulness and exaggeration of the times, and not fuller of themarvelous than most others of that period.

The London to which Smith returned was the London of Shakespeare. Weshould be thankful for one glimpse of him in this interesting town.Did he frequent the theatre? Did he perhaps see Shakespeare himselfat the Globe? Did he loaf in the coffee-houses, and spin the finethread of his adventures to the idlers and gallants who resorted tothem? If he dropped in at any theatre of an afternoon he was quitelikely to hear some allusion to Virginia, for the plays of the hourwere full of chaff, not always of the choicest, about the attractionsof the Virgin-land, whose gold was as plentiful as copper in England;where the prisoners were fettered in gold, and the dripping-pans weremade of it; and where—an unheard-of thing—you might become analderman without having been a scavenger.

Was Smith an indulger in that new medicine for all ills, tobacco?Alas! we know nothing of his habits or his company. He was a man ofpiety according to his lights, and it is probable that he may havehad the then rising prejudice against theatres. After his returnfrom Virginia he and his exploits were the subject of many a stageplay and spectacle, but whether his vanity was more flattered by thismark of notoriety than his piety was offended we do not know. Thereis certainly no sort of evidence that he engaged in the commondissipation of the town, nor gave himself up to those pleasures whicha man rescued from the hardships of captivity in Tartaria might beexpected to seek. Mr. Stith says that it was the testimony of hisfellow soldiers and adventurers that "they never knew a soldier,before him, so free from those military vices of wine, tobacco,debts, dice, and oathes."

But of one thing we may be certain: he was seeking adventureaccording to his nature, and eager for any heroic employment; and itgoes without saying that he entered into the great excitement of theday—adventure in America. Elizabeth was dead. James had just cometo the throne, and Raleigh, to whom Elizabeth had granted anextensive patent of Virginia, was in the Tower. The attempts to makeany permanent lodgment in the countries of Virginia had failed. Butat the date of Smith's advent Captain Bartholomew Gosnold hadreturned from a voyage undertaken in 1602 under the patronage of theEarl of Southampton, and announced that he had discovered a directpassage westward to the new continent, all the former voyagers havinggone by the way of the West Indies. The effect of this announcementin London, accompanied as it was with Gosnold's report of thefruitfulness of the coast of New England which he explored, wassomething like that made upon New York by the discovery of gold inCalifornia in 1849. The route by the West Indies, with its incidentsof disease and delay, was now replaced by the direct course opened byGosnold, and the London Exchange, which has always been quick toscent any profit in trade, shared the excitement of the distinguishedsoldiers and sailors who were ready to embrace any chance ofadventure that offered.

It is said that Captain Gosnold spent several years in vain, afterhis return, in soliciting his friends and acquaintances to join himin settling this fertile land he had explored; and that at length heprevailed upon Captain John Smith, Mr. Edward Maria Wingfield, theRev. Mr. Robert Hunt, and others, to join him. This is the firstappearance of the name of Captain John Smith in connection withVirginia. Probably his life in London had been as idle asunprofitable, and his purse needed replenishing. Here was a way opento the most honorable, exciting, and profitable employment. That itsmere profit would have attracted him we do not believe; but itsdanger, uncertainty, and chance of distinction would irresistiblyappeal to him. The distinct object of the projectors was toestablish a colony in Virginia. This proved too great an undertakingfor private persons. After many vain projects the scheme wascommended to several of the nobility, gentry, and merchants, who cameinto it heartily, and the memorable expedition of 1606 was organized.

The patent under which this colonization was undertaken was obtainedfrom King James by the solicitation of Richard Hakluyt and others.Smith's name does not appear in it, nor does that of Gosnold nor ofCaptain Newport. Richard Hakluyt, then clerk prebendary ofWestminster, had from the first taken great interest in the project.He was chaplain of the English colony in Paris when Sir Francis Drakewas fitting out his expedition to America, and was eager to furtherit. By his diligent study he became the best English geographer ofhis time; he was the historiographer of the East India Company, andthe best informed man in England concerning the races, climates, andproductions of all parts of the globe. It was at Hakluyt'ssuggestion that two vessels were sent out from Plymouth in 1603 toverify Gosnold's report of his new short route. A furtherverification of the feasibility of this route was made by CaptainGeorge Weymouth, who was sent out in 1605 by the Earl of Southampton.

The letters-patent of King James, dated April 10, 1606, licensed theplanting of two colonies in the territories of America commonlycalled Virginia. The corporators named in the first colony were SirThos. Gates, Sir George Somers, knights, and Richard Hakluyt andEdward Maria Wingfield, adventurers, of the city of London. Theywere permitted to settle anywhere in territory between the 34th and41st degrees of latitude.

The corporators named in the second colony were Thomas Hankam,Raleigh Gilbert, William Parker, and George Popham, representingBristol, Exeter, and Plymouth, and the west counties, who wereauthorized to make a settlement anywhere between the 38th and 4Sthdegrees of latitude.

The—letters commended and generously accepted this noble work ofcolonization, "which may, by the Providence of Almighty God,hereafter tend to the glory of his Divine Majesty, in propagating ofChristian religion to such people as yet live in darkness andmiserable ignorance of all true knowledge and worship of God, and mayin time bring the infidels and savages living in those parts to humancivility and to a settled and quiet government." The conversion ofthe Indians was as prominent an object in all these early adventures,English or Spanish, as the relief of the Christians has been in allthe Russian campaigns against the Turks in our day.

Before following the fortunes of this Virginia colony of 1606, towhich John Smith was attached, it is necessary to glance briefly atthe previous attempt to make settlements in this portion of America.

Although the English had a claim upon America, based upon thediscovery of Newfoundland and of the coast of the continent from the38th to the 68th north parallel by Sebastian Cabot in 1497, they tookno further advantage of it than to send out a few fishing vessels,until Sir Humphrey Gilbert, a noted and skillful seaman, took outletters-patent for discovery, bearing date the 11th of January, 1578.Gilbert was the half-brother of Sir Walter Raleigh and thirteen yearshis senior. The brothers were associated in the enterprise of 1579,which had for its main object the possession of Newfoundland. It iscommonly said, and in this the biographical dictionaries follow oneanother, that Raleigh accompanied his brother on this voyage of 1579and went with him to Newfoundland. The fact is that Gilbert did notreach Newfoundland on that voyage, and it is open to doubt if Raleighstarted with him. In April, 1579, when Gilbert took active stepsunder the charter of 1578, diplomatic difficulties arose, growing outof Elizabeth's policy with the Spaniards, and when Gilbert's shipswere ready to sail he was stopped by an order from the council.Little is known of this unsuccessful attempt of Gilbert's. He did,after many delays, put to sea, and one of his contemporaries, JohnHooker, the antiquarian, says that Raleigh was one of the assuredfriends that accompanied him. But he was shortly after driven back,probably from an encounter with the Spaniards, and returned with theloss of a tall ship.

Raleigh had no sooner made good his footing at the court of Elizabeththan he joined Sir Humphrey in a new adventure. But the Queenperemptorily retained Raleigh at court, to prevent his incurring therisks of any "dangerous sea-fights." To prevent Gilbert fromembarking on this new voyage seems to have been the device of thecouncil rather than the Queen, for she assured Gilbert of her goodwishes, and desired him, on his departure, to give his picture toRaleigh for her, and she contributed to the large sums raised to meetexpenses "an anchor guarded by a lady," which the sailor was to wearat his breast. Raleigh risked L 2,000 in the venture, and equipped aship which bore his name, but which had ill luck. An infectiousfever broke out among the crew, and the "Ark Raleigh" returned toPlymouth. Sir Humphrey wrote to his brother admiral, Sir GeorgePeckham, indignantly of this desertion, the reason for which he didnot know, and then proceeded on his voyage with his four remainingships. This was on the 11th of January, 1583. The expedition was sofar successful that Gilbert took formal possession of Newfoundlandfor the Queen. But a fatality attended his further explorations: thegallant admiral went down at sea in a storm off our coast, with hiscrew, heroic and full of Christian faith to the last, uttering, it isreported, this courageous consolation to his comrades at the lastmoment: "Be of good heart, my friends. We are as near to heaven bysea as by land."

In September, 1583, a surviving ship brought news of the disaster toFalmouth. Raleigh was not discouraged. Within six months of thisloss he had on foot another enterprise. His brother's patent hadexpired. On the 25th of March, 1584, he obtained from Elizabeth anew charter with larger powers, incorporating himself, AdrianGilbert, brother of Sir Humphrey, and John Davys, under the title of"The College of the Fellowship for the Discovery of the NorthwestPassage." But Raleigh's object was colonization. Within a few daysafter his charter was issued he despatched two captains, PhilipAmadas and Arthur Barlow, who in July of that year took possession ofthe island of Roanoke.

The name of Sir Walter Raleigh is intimately associated with Carolinaand Virginia, and it is the popular impression that he personallyassisted in the discovery of the one and the settlement of the other.But there is no more foundation for the belief that he ever visitedthe territory of Virginia, of which he was styled governor, than thathe accompanied Sir Humphrey Gilbert to Newfoundland. An allusion byWilliam Strachey, in his "Historie of Travaile into Virginia,"hastily read, may have misled some writers. He speaks of anexpedition southward, "to some parts of Chawonock and the Mangoangs,to search them there left by Sir Walter Raleigh." But his furthersketch of the various prior expeditions shows that he meant to speakof settlers left by Sir Ralph Lane and other agents of Raleigh incolonization. Sir Walter Raleigh never saw any portion of the coastof the United States.

In 1592 he planned an attack upon the Spanish possessions of Panama,but his plans were frustrated. His only personal expedition to theNew World was that to Guana in 1595.

The expedition of Captain Amadas and Captain Barlow is described byCaptain Smith in his compilation called the "General Historie," andby Mr. Strachey. They set sail April 27, 1584, from the Thames. Onthe 2d of July they fell with the coast of Florida in shoal water,"where they felt a most delicate sweet smell," but saw no land.Presently land appeared, which they took to be the continent, andcoasted along to the northward a hundred and thirty miles beforefinding a harbor. Entering the first opening, they landed on whatproved to be the Island of Roanoke. The landing-place was sandy andlow, but so productive of grapes or vines overrunning everything,that the very surge of the sea sometimes overflowed them. Thetallest and reddest cedars in the world grew there, with pines,cypresses, and other trees, and in the woods plenty of deer, conies,and fowls in incredible abundance.

After a few days the natives came off in boats to visit them, properpeople and civil in their behavior, bringing with them the King'sbrother, Granganameo (Quangimino, says Strachey). The name of theKing was Winginia, and of the country Wingandacoa. The name of thisKing might have suggested that of Virginia as the title of the newpossession, but for the superior claim of the Virgin Queen.Granganameo was a friendly savage who liked to trade. The firstthing he took a fancy was a pewter dish, and he made a hole throughit and hung it about his neck for a breastplate. The liberalChristians sold it to him for the low price of twenty deer-skins,worth twenty crowns, and they also let him have a copper kettle forfifty skins. They drove a lively traffic with the savages for muchof such "truck," and the chief came on board and ate and drankmerrily with the strangers. His wife and children, short of staturebut well-formed and bashful, also paid them a visit. She wore a longcoat of leather, with a piece of leather about her loins, around herforehead a band of white coral, and from her ears bracelets of pearlsof the bigness of great peas hung down to her middle. The otherwomen wore pendants of copper, as did the children, five or six in anear. The boats of these savages were hollowed trunks of trees.Nothing could exceed the kindness and trustfulness the Indiansexhibited towards their visitors. They kept them supplied with gameand fruits, and when a party made an expedition inland to theresidence of Granganameo, his wife (her husband being absent) camerunning to the river to welcome them; took them to her house and setthem before a great fire; took off their clothes and washed them;removed the stockings of some and washed their feet in warm water;set plenty of victual, venison and fish and fruits, before them, andtook pains to see all things well ordered for their comfort. "Morelove they could not express to entertain us." It is noted that thesesavages drank wine while the grape lasted. The visitors returned allthis kindness with suspicion.

They insisted upon retiring to their boats at night instead oflodging in the house, and the good woman, much grieved at theirjealousy, sent down to them their half-cooked supper, pots and all,and mats to cover them from the rain in the night, and caused severalof her men and thirty women to sit all night on the shore overagainst them. "A more kind, loving people cannot be," say thevoyagers.

In September the expedition returned to England, taking specimens ofthe wealth of the country, and some of the pearls as big as peas, andtwo natives, Wanchese and Manteo. The "lord proprietary" obtainedthe Queen's permission to name the new lands "Virginia," in herhonor, and he had a new seal of his arms cut, with the legend,Propria insignia Walteri Ralegh, militis, Domini et GubernatorisVirginia.

The enticing reports brought back of the fertility of this land, andthe amiability of its pearl-decked inhabitants, determined Raleigh atonce to establish a colony there, in the hope of the ultimatesalvation of the "poor seduced infidell" who wore the pearls. Afleet of seven vessels, with one hundred householders, and manythings necessary to begin a new state, departed from Plymouth inApril, 1585. Sir Richard Grenville had command of the expedition,and Mr. Ralph Lane was made governor of the colony, with PhilipAmadas for his deputy. Among the distinguished men who accompaniedthem were Thomas Hariot, the mathematician, and Thomas Cavendish, thenaval discoverer. The expedition encountered as many fatalities asthose that befell Sir Humphrey Gilbert; and Sir Richard was destinedalso to an early and memorable death. But the new colony sufferedmore from its own imprudence and want of harmony than from naturalcauses.

In August, Grenville left Ralph Lane in charge of the colony andreturned to England, capturing a Spanish ship on the way. Thecolonists pushed discoveries in various directions, but soon foundthemselves involved in quarrels with the Indians, whose conduct wasless friendly than formerly, a change partly due to the greed of thewhites. In June, when Lane was in fear of a conspiracy which he haddiscovered against the life of the colony, and it was short ofsupplies, Sir Francis Drake appeared off Roanoke, returning homewardwith his fleet from the sacking of St. Domingo, Carthagena, and St.Augustine. Lane, without waiting for succor from England, persuadedDrake to take him and all the colony back home. Meantime Raleigh,knowing that the colony would probably need aid, was preparing afleet of three well appointed ships to accompany Sir RichardGrenville, and an "advice ship," plentifully freighted, to send inadvance to give intelligence of his coming. Great was Grenville'schagrin, when he reached Hatorask, to find that the advice boat hadarrived, and finding no colony, had departed again for England.However, he established fifteen men ("fifty," says the "GeneralHistorie") on the island, provisioned for two years, and thenreturned home.

[Sir Richard Grenville in 1591 was vice-admiral of a fleet, undercommand of Lord Thomas Howard, at the Azores, sent against a SpanishPlate-fleet. Six English vessels were suddenly opposed by a Spanishconvoy of 53 ships of war. Left behind his comrades, in embarkingfrom an island, opposed by five galleons, he maintained a terriblefight for fifteen hours, his vessel all cut to pieces, and his mennearly all slain. He died uttering aloud these words: "Here dies SirRichard Grenville, with a joyful and quiet mind, for that I haveended my life as a true soldier ought to do, fighting for hiscountry, queen, religion, and honor."]

Mr. Ralph Lane's colony was splendidly fitted out, much betterfurnished than the one that Newport, Wingfield, and Gosnold conductedto the River James in 1607; but it needed a man at the head of it.If the governor had possessed Smith's pluck, he would have held ontill the arrival of Grenville.

Lane did not distinguish himself in the conduct of this governorship,but he nevertheless gained immortality. For he is credited withfirst bringing into England that valuable medicinal weeds calledtobacco, which Sir Walter Raleigh made fashionable, not in itscapacity to drive "rheums" out of the body, but as a soother, whenburned in the bowl of a pipe and drawn through the stem in smoke, ofthe melancholy spirit.

The honor of introducing tobacco at this date is so large that it hasbeen shared by three persons—Sir Francis Drake, who brought Mr. Lanehome; Mr. Lane, who carried the precious result of his sojourn inAmerica; and Sir Walter Raleigh, who commended it to the use of theladies of Queen Elizabeth's court.

But this was by no means its first appearance in Europe. It wasalready known in Spain, in France, and in Italy, and no doubt hadbegun to make its way in the Orient. In the early part of thecentury the Spaniards had discovered its virtues. It is stated byJohn Neander, in his " Tobaco Logia," published in Leyden in 1626,that Tobaco took its name from a province in Yucatan, conquered byFernando Cortez in 1519. The name Nicotiana he derives from D.Johanne Nicotino Nemansensi, of the council of Francis II., who firstintroduced the plant into France. At the date of this volume (1626)tobacco was in general use all over Europe and in the East. Picturesare given of the Persian water pipes, and descriptions of the mode ofpreparing it for use. There are reports and traditions of a veryancient use of tobacco in Persia and in China, as well as in India,but we are convinced that the substance supposed to be tobacco, andto be referred to as such by many writers, and described as"intoxicating," was really India hemp, or some plant very differentfrom the tobacco of the New World. At any rate there is evidencethat in the Turkish Empire as late as 1616 tobacco was still somewhata novelty, and the smoking of it was regarded as vile, and a habitonly of the low. The late Hekekian Bey, foreign minister of oldMahomet Ali, possessed an ancient Turkish MS which related anoccurrence at Smyrna about the year 1610, namely, the punishment ofsome sailors for the use of tobacco, which showed that it was anovelty and accounted a low vice at that time. The testimony of thetrustworthy George Sandys, an English traveler into Turkey, Egypt,and Syria in 1610 (afterwards, 1621, treasurer of the colony inVirginia), is to the same effect as given in his "Relation,"published in London in 1621. In his minute description of the peopleand manners of Constantinople, after speaking of opium, which makesthe Turks "giddy-headed" and "turbulent dreamers," he says: "Butperhaps for the self-same cause they delight in Tobacco: which theytake through reedes that have joyned with them great heads of wood tocontaine it, I doubt not but lately taught them as brought them bythe English; and were it not sometimes lookt into (for Morat Bassa[Murad III.?] not long since commanded a pipe to be thrust throughthe nose of a Turke, and to be led in derision through the Citie), noquestion but it would prove a principal commodity. Nevertheless theywill take it in corners; and are so ignorant therein, that that whichin England is not saleable, doth passe here among them for mostexcellent."

Mr. Stith ("History of Virginia," 1746) gives Raleigh credit for theintroduction of the pipe into good society, but he cautiously says,"We are not informed whether the queen made use of it herself: but itis certain she gave great countenance to it as a vegetable ofsingular strength and power, which might therefore prove of benefitto mankind, and advantage to the nation." Mr. Thomas Hariot, in hisobservations on the colony at Roanoke, says that the natives esteemedtheir tobacco, of which plenty was found, their "chief physicke."

It should be noted, as against the claim of Lane, that Stowe in his"Annales" (1615) says: "Tobacco was first brought and made known inEngland by Sir John Hawkins, about the year 1565, but not used byEnglishmen in many years after, though at this time commonly used bymost men and many women." In a side-note to the edition of 1631 weread: "Sir Walter Raleigh was the first that brought tobacco in use,when all men wondered what it meant." It was first commended for itsmedicinal virtues. Harrison's "Chronologie," under date of 1573,says: "In these daies the taking in of the smoke of the Indian herbecalled 'Tabaco' by an instrument formed like a little ladell, wherebyit passeth from the mouth into the hed and stomach, is gretlie taken-up and used in England, against Rewmes and some other diseasesingendred in the longes and inward partes, and not without effect."But Barnaby Rich, in "The Honestie of this Age," 1614, disagrees withHarrison about its benefit: "They say it is good for a cold, for apose, for rewmes, for aches, for dropsies, and for all manner ofdiseases proceeding of moyst humours; but I cannot see but that thosethat do take it fastest are as much (or more) subject to all theseinfirmities (yea, and to the poxe itself) as those that have nothingat all to do with it." He learns that 7,000 shops in London live bythe trade of tobacco-selling, and calculates that there is paid forit L 399,375 a year, "all spent in smoake." Every base groom musthave his pipe with his pot of ale; it "is vendible in every taverne,inne, and ale-house; and as for apothecaries shops, grosers shops,chandlers shops, they are (almost) never without company that, frommorning till night, are still taking of tobacco." Numbers of housesand shops had no other trade to live by. The wrath of King James wasprobably never cooled against tobacco, but the expression of it wassomewhat tempered when he perceived what a source of revenue itbecame.

The savages of North America gave early evidence of the possession ofimaginative minds, of rare power of invention, and of an amiabledesire to make satisfactory replies to the inquiries of theirvisitors. They generally told their questioners what they wanted toknow, if they could ascertain what sort of information would pleasethem. If they had known the taste of the sixteenth century for themarvelous they could not have responded more fitly to suit it. Theyfilled Mr. Lane and Mr. Hariot full of tales of a wonderful coppermine on the River Maratock (Roanoke), where the metal was dipped outof the stream in great bowls. The colonists had great hopes of thisriver, which Mr: Hariot thought flowed out of the Gulf of Mexico, orvery near the South Sea. The Indians also conveyed to the mind ofthis sagacious observer the notion that they had a very respectablydeveloped religion; that they believed in one chief god who existedfrom all eternity, and who made many gods of less degree; that formankind a woman was first created, who by one of the gods broughtforth children; that they believed in the immortality of the soul,and that for good works a soul will be conveyed to bliss in thetabernacles of the gods, and for bad deeds to pokogusso, a great pitin the furthest part of the world, where the sun sets, and where theyburn continually. The Indians knew this because two men lately deadhad revived and come back to tell them of the other world. Thesestories, and many others of like kind, the Indians told ofthemselves, and they further pleased Mr. Hariot by kissing his Bibleand rubbing it all over their bodies, notwithstanding he told themthere was no virtue in the material book itself, only in itsdoctrines. We must do Mr. Hariot the justice to say, however, thathe had some little suspicion of the "subtiltie" of the weroances(chiefs) and the priests.

Raleigh was not easily discouraged; he was determined to plant hiscolony, and to send relief to the handful of men that Grenville hadleft on Roanoke Island. In May, 1587, he sent out three ships and ahundred and fifty householders, under command of Mr. John White, whowas appointed Governor of the colony, with twelve assistants as aCouncil, who were incorporated under the name of "The Governor andAssistants of the City of Ralegh in Virginia," with instructions tochange their settlement to Chesapeake Bay. The expedition foundthere no one of the colony (whether it was fifty or fifteen thewriters disagree), nothing but the bones of one man where theplantation had been; the houses were unhurt, but overgrown withweeds, and the fort was defaced. Captain Stafford, with twenty men,went to Croatan to seek the lost colonists. He heard that the fiftyhad been set upon by three hundred Indians, and, after a sharpskirmish and the loss of one man, had taken boats and gone to a smallisland near Hatorask, and afterwards had departed no one knewwhither.

Mr. White sent a band to take revenge upon the Indians who weresuspected of their murder through treachery, which was guided byMateo, the friendly Indian, who had returned with the expedition fromEngland. By a mistake they attacked a friendly tribe. In August ofthis year Mateo was Christianized, and baptized under the title ofLord of Roanoke and Dassomonpeake, as a reward for his fidelity. Thesame month Elinor, the daughter of the Govemor, the wife of AnaniasDare, gave birth to a daughter, the first white child born in thispart of the continent, who was named Virginia.

Before long a dispute arose between the Governor and his Council asto the proper person to return to England for supplies. Whitehimself was finally prevailed upon to go, and he departed, leavingabout a hundred settlers on one of the islands of Hatorask to form aplantation.

The Spanish invasion and the Armada distracted the attention ofEurope about this time, and the hope of plunder from Spanish vesselswas more attractive than the colonization of America. It was notuntil 1590 that Raleigh was able to despatch vessels to the relief ofthe Hatorask colony, and then it was too late. White did, indeed,start out from Biddeford in April, 1588, with two vessels, but thetemptation to chase prizes was too strong for him, and he went on acruise of his own, and left the colony to its destruction.

In March, 1589-90, Mr. White was again sent out, with three ships,from Plymouth, and reached the coast in August. Sailing by Croatanthey went to Hatorask, where they descried a smoke in the place theyhad left the colony in 1587. Going ashore next day, they found noman, nor sign that any had been there lately. Preparing to go toRoanoke next day, a boat was upset and Captain Spicer and six of thecrew were drowned. This accident so discouraged the sailors thatthey could hardly be persuaded to enter on the search for the colony.At last two boats, with nineteen men, set out for Hatorask, andlanded at that part of Roanoke where the colony had been left. WhenWhite left the colony three years before, the men had talked of goingfifty miles into the mainland, and had agreed to leave some sign oftheir departure. The searchers found not a man of the colony; theirhouses were taken down, and a strong palisade had been built. Allabout were relics of goods that had been buried and dug up again andscattered, and on a post was carved the name "CROATAN." This signal,which was accompanied by no sign of distress, gave White hope that heshould find his comrades at Croatan. But one mischance or anotherhappening, his provisions being short, the expedition decided to rundown to the West Indies and "refresh" (chiefly with a little Spanishplunder), and return in the spring and seek their countrymen; butinstead they sailed for England and never went to Croatan. The menof the abandoned colonies were never again heard of. Years after, in1602, Raleigh bought a bark and sent it, under the charge of SamuelMace, a mariner who had been twice to Virginia, to go in search ofthe survivors of White's colony. Mace spent a month lounging aboutthe Hatorask coast and trading with the natives, but did not land onCroatan, or at any place where the lost colony might be expected tobe found; but having taken on board some sassafras, which at thattime brought a good price in England, and some other barks which weresupposed to be valuable, he basely shirked the errand on which he washired to go, and took himself and his spicy woods home.

The "Lost Colony" of White is one of the romances of the New World.Governor White no doubt had the feelings of a parent, but he did notallow them to interfere with his more public duties to go in searchof Spanish prizes. If the lost colony had gone to Croatan, it wasprobable that Ananias Dare and his wife, the Governor's daughter, andthe little Virginia Dare, were with them. But White, as we haveseen, had such confidence in Providence that he left his dearrelatives to its care, and made no attempt to visit Croatan.

Stith says that Raleigh sent five several times to search for thelost, but the searchers returned with only idle reports and frivolousallegations. Tradition, however, has been busy with the fate ofthese deserted colonists. One of the unsupported conjectures is thatthe colonists amalgamated with the tribe of Hatteras Indians, andIndian tradition and the physical characteristics of the tribe aresaid to confirm this idea. But the sporadic birth of children withwhite skins (albinos) among black or copper-colored races that havehad no intercourse with white people, and the occurrence of lighthair and blue eyes among the native races of America and of NewGuinea, are facts so well attested that no theory of amalgamation canbe sustained by such rare physical manifestations. According toCaptain John Smith, who wrote of Captain Newport's explorations in1608, there were no tidings of the waifs, for, says Smith, Newportreturned "without a lump of gold, a certainty of the South Sea, orone of the lost company sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh."

In his voyage of discovery up the Chickahominy, Smith seem; to haveinquired about this lost colony of King Paspahegh, for he says, "whathe knew of the dominions he spared not to acquaint me with, as ofcertaine men cloathed at a place called Ocanahonan, cloathcd likeme."

[Among these Hatteras Indians Captain Amadas, in 1584, saw childrenwith chestnut-colored hair.]

We come somewhat nearer to this matter in the Historie of Travaileinto Virginia Britannia," published from the manuscript by theHakluyt Society in 1849, in which it is intimated that seven of thesedeserted colonists were afterwards rescued. Strachey is a first-rateauthority for what he saw. He arrived in Virginia in 1610 andremained there two years, as secretary of the colony, and was a manof importance. His "Historie" was probably written between 1612 and1616. In the first portion of it, which is descriptive of theterritory of Virginia, is this important passage: "At Peccarecamekand Ochanahoen, by the relation of Machumps, the people have housesbuilt with stone walls, and one story above another, so taught themby those English who escaped the slaughter of Roanoke. At what timethis our colony, under the conduct of Captain Newport, landed withinthe Chesapeake Bay, where the people breed up tame turkies abouttheir houses, and take apes in the mountains, and where, at Ritanoe,the Weroance Eyanaco, preserved seven of the English alive—four men,two boys, and one young maid (who escaped [that is from Roanoke] andfled up the river of Chanoke), to beat his copper, of which he hathcertain mines at the said Ritanoe, as also at Pamawauk are said to bestore of salt stones."

This, it will be observed, is on the testimony of Machumps. Thispleasing story is not mentioned in Captain Newport's "Discoveries "(May, 1607). Machumps, who was the brother of Winganuske, one of themany wives of Powhatan, had been in England. He was evidently alively Indian. Strachey had heard him repeat the "Indian grace," asort of incantation before meat, at the table of Sir Thomas Dale. Ifhe did not differ from his red brothers he had a powerfulimagination, and was ready to please the whites with any sort of amarvelous tale. Newport himself does not appear to have seen any ofthe "apes taken in the mountains." If this story is to be acceptedas true we have to think of Virginia Dare as growing up to be a womanof twenty years, perhaps as other white maidens have been, Indianizedand the wife of a native. But the story rests only upon a romancingIndian. It is possible that Strachey knew more of the matter than herelates, for in his history he speaks again of those betrayed people,"of whose end you shall hereafter read in this decade." But thepossessed information is lost, for it is not found in the remainderof this "decade" of his writing, which is imperfect. Anotherreference in Strachey is more obscure than the first. He is speakingof the merciful intention of King James towards the Virginia savages,and that he does not intend to root out the natives as the Spaniardsdid in Hispaniola, but by degrees to change their barbarous nature,and inform them of the true God and the way to Salvation, and thathis Majesty will even spare Powhatan himself. But, he says, it isthe intention to make "the common people likewise to understand, howthat his Majesty has been acquainted that the men, women, andchildren of the first plantation of Roanoke were by practice ofPowhatan (he himself persuaded thereunto by his priests) miserablyslaughtered, without any offense given him either by the firstplanted (who twenty and odd years had peaceably lived intermixed withthose savages, and were out of his territory) or by those who are nowcome to inhabit some parts of his distant lands," etc.

Strachey of course means the second plantation and not the first,which, according to the weight of authority, consisted of onlyfifteen men and no women.

In George Percy's Discourse concerning Captain Newport's explorationof the River James in 1607 (printed in Purchas's " Pilgrims ") isthis sentence: "At Port Cotage, in our voyage up the river, we saw asavage boy, about the age of ten years, which had a head of hair of aperfect yellow, and reasonably white skin, which is a miracle amongstall savages." Mr. Neill, in his "History of the Virginia Company,"says that this boy" was no doubt the offspring of the colonists leftat Roanoke by White, of whom four men, two boys, and one young maidhad been preserved from slaughter by an Indian Chief." Under thecirc*mstances, "no doubt" is a very strong expression for a historianto use.

This belief in the sometime survival of the Roanoke colonists, andtheir amalgamation with the Indians, lingered long in colonialgossip. Lawson, in his History, published in London in 1718,mentions a tradition among the Hatteras Indians, "that several oftheir ancestors were white people and could talk from a book; thetruth of which is confirmed by gray eyes being among these Indiansand no others."

But the myth of Virginia Dare stands no chance beside that of
Pocahontas.

V

FIRST PLANTING OF THE COLONY

The way was now prepared for the advent of Captain John Smith inVirginia. It is true that we cannot give him his own title of itsdiscoverer, but the plantation had been practically abandoned, allthe colonies had ended in disaster, all the governors and captainshad lacked the gift of perseverance or had been early drawn intoother adventures, wholly disposed, in the language of Captain JohnWhite, "to seek after purchase and spoils," and but for the energyand persistence of Captain Smith the expedition of 1606 might havehad no better fate. It needed a man of tenacious will to hold acolony together in one spot long enough to give it root. CaptainSmith was that man, and if we find him glorying in his exploits, andrepeating upon single big Indians the personal prowess thatdistinguished him in Transylvania and in the mythical Nalbrits, wehave only to transfer our sympathy from the Turks to theSasquesahanocks if the sense of his heroism becomes oppressive.

Upon the return of Samuel Mace, mariner, who was sent out in 1602 tosearch for White's lost colony, all Raleigh's interest in theVirginia colony had, by his attainder, escheated to the crown. Buthe never gave up his faith in Virginia: neither the failure of nineseveral expeditions nor twelve years imprisonment shook it. On theeve of his fall he had written, "I shall yet live to see it anEnglish nation:" and he lived to see his prediction come true.

The first or Virginian colony, chartered with the Plymouth colony inApril, 1606, was at last organized by the appointment of Sir ThomasSmith, the 'Chief of Raleigh's assignees, a wealthy London merchant,who had been ambassador to Persia, and was then, or shortly after,governor of the East India Company, treasurer and president of themeetings of the council in London; and by the assignment of thetransportation of the colony to Captain Christopher Newport, amariner of experience in voyages to the West Indies and in plunderingthe Spaniards, who had the power to appoint different captains andmariners, and the sole charge of the voyage. No local councilorswere named for Virginia, but to Captain Newport, Captain BartholomewGosnold, and Captain John Ratcliffe were delivered sealedinstructions, to be opened within twenty-four hours after theirarrival in Virginia, wherein would be found the names of the personsdesignated for the Council.

This colony, which was accompanied by the prayers and hopes ofLondon, left the Thames December 19, 1606, in three vessels—theSusan Constant, one hundred tons, Captain Newport, with seventy-onepersons; the God-Speed, forty tons, Captain Gosnold, with fifty-twopersons; and a pinnace of twenty tons, the Discovery, CaptainRatcliffe, with twenty persons. The Mercure Francais, Paris, 1619,says some of the passengers were women and children, but there isno other mention of women. Of the persons embarked, one hundred andfive were planters, the rest crews. Among the planters were EdwardMaria Wingfield, Captain John Smith, Captain John Martin, CaptainGabriel Archer, Captain George Kendall, Mr. Robert Hunt, preacher,and Mr. George Percie, brother of the Earl of Northumberland,subsequently governor for a brief period, and one of the writers fromwhom Purchas compiled. Most of the planters were shipped asgentlemen, but there were four carpenters, twelve laborers, ablacksmith, a sailor, a barber, a bricklayer, a mason, a tailor, adrummer, and a chirurgeon.

The composition of the colony shows a serious purpose of settlement,since the trades were mostly represented, but there were too manygentlemen to make it a working colony. And, indeed, the gentlemen,like the promoters of the enterprise in London, were probably moresolicitous of discovering a passage to the South Sea, as the way toincrease riches, than of making a state. They were instructed toexplore every navigable river they might find, and to follow the mainbranches, which would probably lead them in one direction to the EastIndies or South Sea, and in the other to the Northwest Passage. Andthey were forcibly reminded that the way to prosper was to be of onemind, for their own and their country's good.

This last advice did not last the expedition out of sight of land.They sailed from Blackwell, December 19, 1606, but were kept sixweeks on the coast of England by contrary winds. A crew of saintscabined in those little caravels and tossed about on that coast forsix weeks would scarcely keep in good humor. Besides, the positionof the captains and leaders was not yet defined. Factious quarrelsbroke out immediately, and the expedition would likely have broken upbut for the wise conduct and pious exhortations of Mr. Robert Hunt,the preacher. This faithful man was so ill and weak that it wasthought he could not recover, yet notwithstanding the stormy weather,the factions on board, and although his home was almost in sight,only twelve miles across the Downs, he refused to quit the ship. Hewas unmoved, says Smith, either by the weather or by "the scandalousimputations (of some few little better than atheists, of the greatestrank amongst us)." With "the water of his patience" and "his godlyexhortations" he quenched the flames of envy and dissension.

They took the old route by the West Indies. George Percy notes thaton the 12th of February they saw a blazing star, and presently. astorm. They watered at the Canaries, traded with savages at SanDomingo, and spent three weeks refreshing themselves among theislands. The quarrels revived before they reached the Canaries, andthere Captain Smith was seized and put in close confinement forthirteen weeks.

We get little light from contemporary writers on this quarrel. Smithdoes not mention the arrest in his "True Relation," but in his"General Historie," writing of the time when they had been six weeksin Virginia, he says: "Now Captain Smith who all this time from theirdeparture from the Canaries was restrained as a prisoner upon thescandalous suggestion of some of the chiefs (envying his repute) whofancied he intended to usurp the government, murder the Council, andmake himself King, that his confedcrates were dispersed in all threeships, and that divers of his confederates that revealed it, wouldaffirm it, for this he was committed a prisoner; thirteen weeks heremained thus suspected, and by that time they should return theypretended out of their commiserations, to refer him to the Council inEngland to receive a check, rather than by particulating his designsmake him so odious to the world, as to touch his life, or utterlyoverthrow his reputation. But he so much scorned their charity andpublically defied the uttermost of their cruelty, he wisely preventedtheir policies, though he could not suppress their envies, yet sowell he demeaned himself in this business, as all the company did seehis innocency, and his adversaries' malice, and those suborned toaccuse him accused his accusers of subornation; many untruths werealleged against him; but being apparently disproved, begot a generalhatred in the hearts of the company against such unjust Commanders,that the President was adjudged to give him L 200, so that all he hadwas seized upon, in part of satisfaction, which Smith presentlyreturned to the store for the general use of the colony."—

Neither in Newport's "Relatyon" nor in Mr. Wingfield's "Discourse" isthe arrest mentioned, nor does Strachey speak of it.

About 1629, Smith, in writing a description of the Isle of Mevis(Nevis) in his "Travels and Adventures," says: "In this little [isle]of Mevis, more than twenty years agone, I have remained a good timetogether, to wod and water—and refresh my men." It ischaracteristic of Smith's vivid imagination, in regard to his ownexploits, that he should speak of an expedition in which he had nocommand, and was even a prisoner, in this style: "I remained," and"my men." He goes on: "Such factions here we had as commonly attendsuch voyages, and a pair of gallows was made, but Captaine Smith, forwhom they were intended, could not be persuaded to use them; but notany one of the inventors but their lives by justice fell into hispower, to determine of at his pleasure, whom with much mercy hefavored, that most basely and unjustly would have betrayed him." Andit is true that Smith, although a great romancer, was oftenmagnanimous, as vain men are apt to be.

King James's elaborate lack of good sense had sent the expedition tosea with the names of the Council sealed up in a box, not to beopened till it reached its destination. Consequently there was norecognized authority. Smith was a young man of about twenty-eight,vain and no doubt somewhat "bumptious," and it is easy to believethat Wingfield and the others who felt his superior force andrealized his experience, honestly suspected him of designs againstthe expedition. He was the ablest man on board, and no doubt wasaware of it. That he was not only a born commander of men, but hadthe interest of the colony at heart, time was to show.

The voyagers disported themselves among the luxuries of the WestIndies. At Guadaloupe they found a bath so hot that they boiledtheir pork in it as well as over the fire. At the Island of Monacathey took from the bushes with their hands near two hogsheads full ofbirds in three or four hours. These, it is useless to say, wereprobably not the "barnacle geese" which the nautical travelers usedto find, and picture growing upon bushes and dropping from the eggs,when they were ripe, full-fledged into the water. The beasts werefearless of men. Wild birds and natives had to learn the whitesbefore they feared them.

"In Mevis, Mona, and the Virgin Isles," says the "General Historie,""we spent some time, where with a lothsome beast like a crocodile,called a gwayn [guana], tortoises, pellicans, parrots, and fishes, wefeasted daily."

Thence they made sail-in search of Virginia, but the mariners losttheir reckoning for three days and made no land; the crews werediscomfited, and Captain Ratcliffe, of the pinnace, wanted to up helmand return to England. But a violent storm, which obliged them "tohull all night," drove them to the port desired. On the 26th ofApril they saw a bit of land none of them had ever seen before.This, the first land they descried, they named Cape Henry, in honorof the Prince of Wales; as the opposite cape was called Cape Charles,for the Duke of York, afterwards Charles I. Within these capes theyfound one of the most pleasant places in the world, majesticnavigable rivers, beautiful mountains, hills, and plains, and afruitful and delightsome land.

Mr. George Percy was ravished at the sight of the fair meadows andgoodly tall trees. As much to his taste were the large and delicateoysters, which the natives roasted, and in which were found manypearls. The ground was covered with fine and beautiful strawberries,four times bigger than those in England.

Masters Wingfield, Newport, and Gosnold., with thirty men, wentashore on Cape Henry, where they were suddenly set upon by savages,who came creeping upon all-fours over the hills, like bears, withtheir bows in their hands; Captain Archer was hurt in both hands, anda sailor dangerously wounded in two places on his body. It was a badomen.

The night of their arrival they anchored at Point Comfort, nowFortress Monroe; the box was opened and the orders read, whichconstituted Edward Maria Wingfield, Bartholomew Gosnold, John Smith,Christopher Newport, John Ratcliffe, John Martin, and George Kendallthe Council, with power to choose a President for a year. Until the13th of May they were slowly exploring the River Powhatan, now theJames, seeking a place for the settlement. They selected a peninsulaon the north side of the river, forty miles from its mouth, wherethere was good anchorage, and which could be readily fortified. Thissettlement was Jamestown. The Council was then sworn in, and Mr.Wingfield selected President. Smith being under arrest was not swornin of the Council, and an oration was made setting forth the reasonfor his exclusion.

When they had pitched upon a site for the fort, every man set towork, some to build the fort, others to pitch the tents, fell treesand make clapboards to reload the ships, others to make gardens andnets. The fort was in the form of a triangle with a half-moon ateach comer, intended to mount four or five guns.

President Wingfield appears to have taken soldierly precautions, butSmith was not at all pleased with him from the first. He says "thePresident's overweening jealousy would admit of no exercise at arms,or fortifications but the boughs of trees cast together in the formof a half-moon by the extraordinary pains and diligence of CaptainKendall." He also says there was contention between CaptainWingfield and Captain Gosnold about the site of the city.

The landing was made at Jamestown on the 14th of May, according toPercy. Previous to that considerable explorations were made. On the18th of April they launched a shallop, which they built the daybefore, and "discovered up the bay." They discovered a river on thesouth side running into the mainland, on the banks of which were goodstores of mussels and oysters, goodly trees, flowers of all colors,and strawberries. Returning to their ships and finding the watershallow, they rowed over to a point of land, where they found fromsix to twelve fathoms of water, which put them in good comfort,therefore they named that part of the land Cape Comfort. On the 29ththey set up a cross on Chesapeake Bay, on Cape Henry, and the nextday coasted to the Indian town of Kecoughton, now Hampton, where theywere kindly entertained. When they first came to land the savagesmade a doleful noise, laying their paws to the ground and scratchingthe earth with their nails. This ceremony, which was taken to be akind of idolatry, ended, mats were brought from the houses, whereonthe guests were seated, and given to eat bread made of maize, andtobacco to smoke. The savages also entertained them with dancing andsinging and antic tricks and grimaces. They were naked except acovering of skins about the loins, and many were painted in black andred, with artificial knots of lovely colors, beautiful and pleasingto the eye. The 4th of May they were entertained by the chief ofPaspika, who favored them with a long oration, making a foul noiseand vehement in action, the purport of which they did not catch. Thesavages were full of hospitality. The next day the weroance, orchief, of Rapahanna sent a messenger to invite them to his seat. Hismajesty received them in as modest a proud fashion as if he had beena prince of a civil government. His body was painted in crimson andhis face in blue, and he wore a chain of beads about his neck and inhis ears bracelets of pearls and a bird's claw. The 8th of May theywent up the river to the country Apomatica, where the nativesreceived them in hostile array, the chief, with bow and arrows in onehand, and a pipe of tobacco in the other, offering them war or peace.

These savages were as stout and able as any heathen or Christians inthe world. Mr. Percy said they bore their years well. He saw amongthe Pamunkeys a savage reported to be 160, years old, whose eyes weresunk in his head, his teeth gone his hair all gray, and quite a bigbeard, white as snow; he was a lusty savage, and could travel as fastas anybody.

The Indians soon began to be troublesome in their visits to theplantations, skulking about all night, hanging around the fort byday, bringing sometimes presents of deer, but given to theft of smallarticles, and showing jealousy of the occupation. They murmured,says Percy, at our planting in their country. But worse than thedisposition of the savages was the petty quarreling in the colonyitself.

In obedience to the orders to explore for the South Sea, on the 22dof May, Newport, Percy, Smith, Archer, and twenty others were sent inthe shallop to explore the Powhatan, or James River.

Passing by divers small habitations, and through a land abounding intrees, flowers, and small fruits, a river full of fish, and ofsturgeon such as the world beside has none, they came on the 24th,having passed the town of Powhatan, to the head of the river, theFalls, where they set up the cross and proclaimed King James ofEngland.

Smith says in his "General Historie" they reached Powhatan on the26th. But Captain Newport's "Relatyon" agrees with Percy's, andwith, Smith's "True Relation." Captain Newport, says Percy,permitted no one to visit Powhatan except himself.

Captain Newport's narration of the exploration of the James isinteresting, being the first account we have of this historic river.At the junction of the Appomattox and the James, at a place he callsWynauk, the natives welcomed them with rejoicing and entertained themwith dances. The Kingdom of Wynauk was full of pearl-mussels. Theking of this tribe was at war with the King of Paspahegh. Sixteenmiles above this point, at an inlet, perhaps Turkey Point, they weremet by eight savages in a canoe, one of whom was intelligent enoughto lay out the whole course of the river, from Chesapeake Bay to itssource, with a pen and paper which they showed him how to use. TheseIndians kept them company for some time, meeting them here and therewith presents of strawberries, mulberries, bread, and fish, for whichthey received pins, needles, and beads. They spent one night atPoore Cottage (the Port Cotage of Percy, where he saw the white boy),probably now Haxall. Five miles above they went ashore near the nowfamous Dutch Gap, where King Arahatic gave them a roasted deer, andcaused his women to bake cakes for them. This king gave Newport hiscrown, which was of deer's hair dyed red. He was a subject of thegreat King Powhatan. While they sat making merry with the savages,feasting and taking tobacco and seeing the dances, Powhatan himselfappeared and was received with great show of honor, all rising fromtheir seats except King Arahatic, and shouting loudly. To Powhatanample presents were made of penny-knives, shears, and toys, and heinvited them to visit him at one of his seats called Powhatan, whichwas within a mile of the Falls, where now stands the city ofRichmond. All along the shore the inhabitants stood in clusters,offering food to the strangers. The habitation of Powhatan wassituated on a high hill by the water side, with a meadow at its footwhere was grown wheat, beans, tobacco, peas, pompions, flax, andhemp.

Powhatan served the whites with the best he had, and best of all witha friendly welcome and with interesting discourse of the country.They made a league of friendship. The next day he gave them six menas guides to the falls above, and they left with him one man as ahostage.

On Sunday, the 24th of May, having returned to Powhatan's seat, theymade a feast for him of pork, cooked with peas, and the Captain andKing ate familiarly together; "he eat very freshly of our meats,dranck of our beere, aquavite, and sack." Under the influence ofthis sack and aquavite the King was very communicative about theinterior of the country, and promised to guide them to the mines ofiron and copper; but the wary chief seems to have thought better ofit when he got sober, and put them off with the difficulties anddangers of the way.

On one of the islets below the Falls, Captain Newport set up a crosswith the inscription "Jacobus, Rex, 1607," and his own name beneath,and James was proclaimed King with a great shout. Powhatan wasdispleased with their importunity to go further up the river, anddeparted with all the Indians, except the friendly Navirans, who hadaccompanied them from Arahatic. Navirans greatly admired the cross,but Newport hit upon an explanation of its meaning that should dispelthe suspicions of Powhatan. He told him that the two arms of thecross signified King Powhatan and himself, the fastening of it in themiddle was their united league, and the shout was the reverence hedid to Powhatan. This explanation being made to Powhatan greatlycontented him, and he came on board and gave them the kindestfarewell when they dropped down the river. At Arahatic they foundthe King had provided victuals for them, but, says Newport, "the Kingtold us that he was very sick and not able to sit up long with us."The inability of the noble red man to sit up was no doubt due to toomuch Christian sack and aquavite, for on "Monday he came to the waterside, and we went ashore with him again. He told us that our hotdrinks, he thought, caused him grief, but that he was well again, andwe were very welcome."

It seems, therefore, that to Captain Newport, who was a good sailorin his day, and has left his name in Virginia in Newport News, mustbe given the distinction of first planting the cross in Virginia,with a lie, and watering it, with aquavite.

They dropped down the river to a place called Mulberry Shade, wherethe King killed a deer and prepared for them another feast, at whichthey had rolls and cakes made of wheat. "This the women make and arevery cleanly about it. We had parched meal, excellent good, sodd[cooked] beans, which eat as sweet as filbert kernels, in a manner,strawberries; and mulberries were shaken off the tree, dropping onour heads as we sat. He made ready a land turtle, which we ate; andshowed that he was heartily rejoiced in our company." Such was theamiable disposition of the natives before they discovered the purposeof the whites to dispossess them of their territory. That night theystayed at a place called "Kynd Woman's Care," where the peopleoffered them abundant victual and craved nothing in return.

Next day they went ashore at a place Newport calls Queen Apumatuc'sBower. This Queen, who owed allegiance to Powhatan, had much landunder cultivation, and dwelt in state on a pretty hill. This ancientrepresentative of woman's rights in Virginia did honor to her sex.She came to meet the strangers in a show as majestical as that ofPowhatan himself: "She had an usher before her, who brought her tothe matt prepared under a faire mulberry-tree; where she sat down byherself, with a stayed countenance. She would permitt none to standor sitt neare her. She is a fatt, lustie, manly woman. She had muchcopper about her neck, a coronet of copper upon her hed. She hadlong, black haire, which hanged loose down her back to her myddle;which only part was covered with a deare's skyn, and ells all naked.She had her women attending her, adorned much like herself (exceptthey wanted the copper). Here we had our accustomed eates, tobacco,and welcome. Our Captaine presented her with guyfts liberally,whereupon shee cheered somewhat her countenance, and requested him toshoote off a piece; whereat (we noted) she showed not near the likefeare as Arahatic, though he be a goodly man."

The company was received with the same hospitality by King Pamunkey,whose land was believed to be rich in copper and pearls. The copperwas so flexible that Captain Newport bent a piece of it the thicknessof his finger as if it had been lead. The natives were unwilling topart with it. The King had about his neck a string of pearls as bigas peas, which would have been worth three or four hundred pounds, ifthe pearls had been taken from the mussels as they should have been.

Arriving on their route at Weanock, some twenty miles above the fort,they were minded to visit Paspahegh and another chief Jamestown layin the territory of Paspahegh—but suspicious signs among the nativesmade them apprehend trouble at the fort, and they hastened thither tofind their suspicions verified. The day before, May 26th, the colonyhad been attacked by two hundred Indians (four hundred, Smith says),who were only beaten off when they had nearly entered the fort, bythe use of the artillery. The Indians made a valiant fight for anhour; eleven white men were wounded, of whom one died afterwards, anda boy was killed on the pinnace. This loss was concealed from theIndians, who for some time seem to have believed that the whitescould not be hurt. Four of the Council were hurt in this fight, andPresident Wingfield, who showed himself a valiant gentleman, had ashot through his beard. They killed eleven of the Indians, but theircomrades lugged them away on their backs and buried them in the woodswith a great noise. For several days alarms and attacks continued,and four or five men were cruelly wounded, and one gentleman, Mr.Eustace Cloville, died from the effects of five arrows in his body.

Upon this hostility, says Smith, the President was contented the fortshould be palisaded, and the ordnance mounted, and the men armed andexercised. The fortification went on, but the attacks continued, andit was unsafe for any to venture beyond the fort.

Dissatisfaction arose evidently with President Wingfield'smanagement. Captain Newport says: " There being among the gentlemenand all the company a murmur and grudge against certain proceedingsand inconvenient courses [Newport] put up a petition to the Councilfor reformation." The Council heeded this petition, and urged toamity by Captain Newport, the company vowed faithful love to eachother and obedience to the superiors. On the 10th of June, CaptainSmith was sworn of the Council. In his "General Historie," notpublished till 1624, he says: "Many were the mischiefs that dailysprung from their ignorant (yet ambitious) spirits; but the gooddoctrine and exhortation of our preacher Mr. Hunt, reconciled themand caused Captain Smith to be admitted to the Council." The nextday they all partook of the holy communion.

In order to understand this quarrel, which was not by any meansappeased by this truce, and to determine Captain Smith'sresponsibility for it, it is necessary to examine all the witnesses.Smith is unrestrained in his expression of his contempt forWingfield. But in the diary of Wingfield we find no accusationagainst Smith at this date. Wingfield says that Captain Newportbefore he departed asked him how he thought himself settled in thegovernment, and that he replied "that no disturbance could endangerhim or the colony, but it must be wrought either by Captain Gosnoldor Mr. Archer, for the one was strong with friends and followers andcould if he would; and the other was troubled with an ambitiousspirit and would if he could."

The writer of Newport's "Relatyon" describes the Virginia savages asa very strong and lusty race, and swift warriors. "Their skin istawny; not so borne, but with dyeing and painting themselves, inwhich they delight greatly." That the Indians were born white was,as we shall see hereafter, a common belief among the first settlersin Virginia and New England. Percy notes a distinction between maidsand married women: "The maids shave close the fore part and sides oftheir heads, and leave it long behind, where it is tied up and hangsdown to the hips. The married women wear their hair all of a length,but tied behind as that of maids is. And the women scratch on theirbodies and limbs, with a sharp iron, pictures of fowls, fish, andbeasts, and rub into the 'drawings' lively colors which dry into theflesh and are permanent." The "Relatyon " says the people are wittyand ingenious and allows them many good qualities, but makes thisexception: "The people steal anything comes near them; yea, are sopracticed in this art, that looking in our face, they would withtheir foot, between their toes, convey a chisel, knife, percer, orany indifferent light thing, which having once conveyed, they hold itan injury to take the same from them. They are naturally given totreachery; howbeit we could not find it in our travel up the river,but rather a most kind and loving people."

VI

QUARRELS AND HARDSHIPS

On Sunday, June 21st, they took the communion lovingly together.That evening Captain Newport gave a farewell supper on board hisvessel. The 22d he sailed in the Susan Constant for England,carrying specimens of the woods and minerals, and made the shortpassage of five weeks. Dudley Carleton, in a letter to JohnChamberlain dated Aug. 18, 1607, writes "that Captain Newport hasarrived without gold or silver, and that the adventurers, cumbered bythe presence of the natives, have fortified themselves at a placecalled Jamestown." The colony left numbered one hundred and four.

The good harmony of the colony did not last. There were otherreasons why the settlement was unprosperous. The supply of wholesomeprovisions was inadequate. The situation of the town near theChickahominy swamps was not conducive to health, and althoughPowhatan had sent to make peace with them, and they also made aleague of amity with the chiefs Paspahegh and Tapahanagh, theyevidently had little freedom of movement beyond sight of their guns.Percy says they were very bare and scant of victuals, and in wars anddangers with the savages.

Smith says in his "True Relation," which was written on the spot, andis much less embittered than his "General Historie," that they werein good health and content when Newport departed, but this did notlong continue, for President Wingfield and Captain Gosnold, with themost of the Council, were so discontented with each other thatnothing was done with discretion, and no business transacted withwisdom. This he charges upon the "hard-dealing of the President,"the rest of the Council being diversely affected through hisaudacious command. "Captain Martin, though honest, was weak andsick; Smith was in disgrace through the malice of others; and Godsent famine and sickness, so that the living were scarce able to burythe dead. Our want of sufficient good food, and continual watching,four or five each night, at three bulwarks, being the chief cause;only of sturgeon we had great store, whereon we would so greedilysurfeit, as it cost many their lives; the sack, Aquavite, and otherpreservations of our health being kept in the President's hands, forhis own diet and his few associates."

In his "General Historie," written many years later, Smith enlargesthis indictment with some touches of humor characteristic of him. Hesays:

"Being thus left to our fortunes, it fortuned that within ten daysscarce ten amongst us could either go, or well stand, such extremeweakness and sicknes oppressed us. And thereat none need marvaile ifthey consider the cause and reason, which was this: whilst the shipsstayed, our allowance was somewhat bettered, by a daily proportion ofBisket, which the sailors would pilfer to sell, give, or exchangewith us for money, Saxefras, furres, or love. But when theydeparted, there remained neither taverne, beere-house, nor place ofreliefe, but the common Kettell. Had we beene as free from allsinnes as gluttony, and drunkennesse, we might have been canonizedfor Saints. But our President would never have been admitted, foringrissing to his private, Oatmeale, Sacke, Oyle, Aquavitz, Beef,Egges, or what not, but the Kettell: that indeed he allowed equallyto be distributed, and that was half a pint of wheat, and as muchbarley boyled with water for a man a day, and this being fryed sometwenty-six weeks in the ship's hold, contained as many wormes asgraines; so that we might truly call it rather so much bran thancorrne, our drinke was water, our lodgings Castles in the ayre; withthis lodging and dyet, our extreme toile in bearing and plantingPallisadoes, so strained and bruised us, and our continual labour inthe extremitie of the heat had so weakened us, as were causesufficient to have made us miserable in our native countrey, or anyother place in the world."

Affairs grew worse. The sufferings of this colony in the summerequaled that of the Pilgrims at Plymouth in the winter and spring.Before September forty-one were buried, says Wingfield; fifty, saysSmith in one statement, and forty-six in another; Percy gives a listof twenty-four who died in August and September. Late in AugustWingfield said, "Sickness had not now left us seven able men in ourtown." " As yet," writes Smith in September, "we had no houses tocover us, our tents were rotten, and our cabins worse than nought."

Percy gives a doleful picture of the wretchedness of the colony: "Ourmen were destroyed with cruel sickness, as swellings, fluxes,burning-fevers, and by wars, and some departed suddenly, but for themost part they died of mere famine…. We watched every three nights,lying on the cold bare ground what weather soever came, worked allthe next day, which brought our men to be most feeble wretches, ourfood was but a small can of barley, sod in water to five men a day,our drink but cold water taken out of the river, which was at theflood very salt, at a low tide full of shrimp and filth, which wasthe destruction of many of our men. Thus we lived for the space offive months in this miserable distress, but having five able men toman our bulwarks upon any occasion. If it had not pleased God to puta terror in the savage hearts, we had all perished by those wild andcruel Pagans, being in that weak state as we were: our men night andday groaning in every comer of the fort, most pitiful to hear. Ifthere were any conscience in men, it would make their hearts to bleedto hear the pitiful murmurings and outcries of our sick men, withoutrelief, every night and day, for the space of six weeks: somedeparting out of the world; many times three or four in a night; inthe morning their bodies trailed out of their cabins, like dogs, tobe buried. In this sort did I see the mortality of divers of ourpeople."

A severe loss to the colony was the death on the 22d of August ofCaptain Bartholomew Gosnold, one of the Council, a brave andadventurous mariner, and, says Wingfield, a "worthy and religiousgentleman." He was honorably buried, "having all the ordnance in thefort shot off with many volleys of small shot." If the Indians hadknown that those volleys signified the mortality of their comrades,the colony would no doubt have been cut off entirely. It is amelancholy picture, this disheartened and half-famished band of menquarreling among themselves; the occupation of the half-dozen ablemen was nursing the sick and digging graves. We anticipate here bysaying, on the authority of a contemporary manuscript in the StatePaper office, that when Captain Newport arrived with the first supplyin January, 1608, "he found the colony consisting of no more thanforty persons; of those, ten only able men."

After the death of Gosnold, Captain Kendall was deposed from theCouncil and put in prison for sowing discord between the Presidentand Council, says Wingfield; for heinous matters which were provedagainst him, says Percy; for "divers reasons," says Smith, whosympathized with his dislike of Wingfield. The colony was in verylow estate at this time, and was only saved from famine by theprovidential good-will of the Indians, who brought them corn halfripe, and presently meat and fruit in abundance.

On the 7th of September the chief Paspahegh gave a token of peace byreturning a white boy who had run away from camp, and other runawayswere returned by other chiefs, who reported that they had been wellused in their absence. By these returns Mr. Wingfield was convincedthat the Indians were not cannibals, as Smith believed.

On the 10th of September Mr. Wingfield was deposed from thepresidency and the Council, and Captain John Ratcliffe was electedPresident. Concerning the deposition there has been much dispute;but the accounts of it by Captain Smith and his friends, so longaccepted as the truth, must be modified by Mr. Wingfield's "Discourseof Virginia," more recently come to light, which is, in a sense, adefense of his conduct.

In his " True Relation" Captain Smith is content to say that "CaptainWingfield, having ordered the affairs in such sort that he was hatedof them all, in which respect he was with one accord deposed from thepresidency."

In the "General Historie" the charges against him, which we havealready quoted, are extended, and a new one is added, that is, apurpose of deserting the colony in the pinnace: "the rest seeing thePresident's projects to escape these miseries in our pinnace byflight (who all this time had neither felt want nor sickness), somoved our dead spirits we deposed him."

In the scarcity of food and the deplorable sickness and death, it wasinevitable that extreme dissatisfaction should be felt with theresponsible head. Wingfield was accused of keeping the best of thesupplies to himself. The commonalty may have believed this. Smithhimself must have known that the supplies were limited, but have beenwilling to take advantage of this charge to depose the President, whowas clearly in many ways incompetent for his trying position. Itappears by Mr. Wingfield's statement that the supply left with thecolony was very scant, a store that would only last thirteen weeksand a half, and prudence in the distribution of it, in theuncertainty of Newport's return, was a necessity. Whether Wingfieldused the delicacies himself is a question which cannot be settled.In his defense, in all we read of him, except that written by Smithand his friends, he seems to be a temperate and just man, littlequalified to control the bold spirits about him.

As early as July, "in his sickness time, the President did easilyfortell his own deposing from his command," so much did he differfrom the Council in the management of the colony. Under date ofSeptember 7th he says that the Council demanded a larger allowancefor themselves and for some of the sick, their favorites, which hedeclined to give without their warrants as councilors. CaptainMartin of the Council was till then ignorant that only store forthirteen and a half weeks was in the hands of the Cape Merchant, ortreasurer, who was at that time Mr. Thomas Studley. Upon arepresentation to the Council of the lowness of the stores, and thelength of time that must elapse before the harvest of grain, theydeclined to enlarge the allowance, and even ordered that every mealof fish or flesh should excuse the allowance of porridge. Mr.Wingfield goes on to say: "Nor was the common store of oyle, vinegar,sack, and aquavite all spent, saving two gallons of each: the sackreserved for the Communion table, the rest for such extremities asmight fall upon us, which the President had only made known toCaptain Gosnold; of which course he liked well. The vessels wear,therefore, boonged upp. When Mr. Gosnold was dead, the President didacquaint the rest of the Council with the said remnant; but, Lord,how they then longed for to supp up that little remnant: for they hadnow emptied all their own bottles, and all other that they couldsmell out."

Shortly after this the Council again importuned the President forsome better allowance for themselves and for the sick. He protestedhis impartiality, showed them that if the portions were distributedaccording to their request the colony would soon starve; he stilloffered to deliver what they pleased on their warrants, but would nothimself take the responsibility of distributing all the stores, andwhen he divined the reason of their impatience he besought them tobestow the presidency among themselves, and he would be content toobey as a private. Meantime the Indians were bringing in supplies ofcorn and meat, the men were so improved in health that thirty wereable to work, and provision for three weeks' bread was laid up.

Nevertheless, says Mr. Wingfield, the Council had fully plotted todepose him. Of the original seven there remained, besides Mr.Wingfield, only three in the Council. Newport was in England,Gosnold was dead, and Kendall deposed. Mr. Wingfield charged thatthe three—Ratcliffe, Smith, and Martin—forsook the instructions ofhis Majesty, and set up a Triumvirate. At any rate, Wingfield wasforcibly deposed from the Council on the 10th of September. If theobject had been merely to depose him, there was an easier way, forWingfield was ready to resign. But it appears, by subsequentproceedings, that they wished to fasten upon him the charge ofembezzlement, the responsibility of the sufferings of the colony, andto mulct him in fines. He was arrested, and confined on the pinnace.Mr. Ratcliffe was made President.

On the 11th of September Mr. Wingfield was brought before the Councilsitting as a court, and heard the charges against him. They were, asMr. Wingfield says, mostly frivolous trifles. According to hisreport they were these:

First, Mister President [Radcliffe] said that I had denied him apenny whitle, a chicken, a spoonful of beer, and served him with foulcorn; and with that pulled some grain out of a bag, showing it to thecompany.

Then starts up Mr. Smith and said that I had told him plainly how helied; and that I said, though we were equal here, yet if we were inEngland, he [I] would think scorn his man should be my companion.

Mr. Martin followed with: " He reported that I do slack the servicein the colony, and do nothing but tend my pot, spit, and oven; but hehath starved my son, and denied him a spoonful of beer. I havefriends in England shall be revenged on him, if ever he come inLondon."

Voluminous charges were read against Mr. Wingfield by Mr. Archer, whohad been made by the Council, Recorder of Virginia, the author,according to Wingfield, of three several mutinies, as "alwayshatching of some mutiny in my time."

Mr. Percy sent him word in his prison that witnesses were hired totestify against him by bribes of cakes and by threats. If Mr. Percy,who was a volunteer in this expedition, and a man of high character,did send this information, it shows that he sympathized with him, andthis is an important piece of testimony to his good character.

Wingfield saw no way of escape from the malice of his accusers, whosepurpose he suspected was to fine him fivefold for all the supplieswhose disposition he could not account for in writing: but he wasfinally allowed to appeal to the King for mercy, and recommitted tothe pinnace. In regard to the charge of embezzlement, Mr. Wingfieldadmitted that it was impossible to render a full account: he had nobill of items from the Cape Merchant when he received the stores, hehad used the stores for trade and gifts with the Indians; CaptainNewport had done the same in his expedition, without giving anymemorandum. Yet he averred that he never expended the value of thesepenny whittles [small pocket-knives] to his private use.

There was a mutinous and riotous spirit on shore, and the Councilprofessed to think Wingfield's life was in danger. He says: "In allthese disorders was Mr. Archer a ringleader." Meantime the Indianscontinued to bring in supplies, and the Council traded up and downthe river for corn, and for this energy Mr. Wingfield gives credit to"Mr. Smith especially," " which relieved the colony well." To thereport that was brought him that he was charged with starving thecolony, he replies with some natural heat and a little show ofpetulance, that may be taken as an evidence of weakness, as well asof sincerity, and exhibiting the undignified nature of all thissquabbling:

"I did alwaises give every man his allowance faithfully, both ofcorne, oyle, aquivite, etc., as was by the counsell proportioned:neyther was it bettered after my tyme, untill, towards th' end ofMarch, a bisket was allowed to every working man for his breakfast,by means of the provision brought us by Captn. Newport: as willappeare hereafter. It is further said, I did much banquit andryot. I never had but one squirrel roasted; whereof I gave partto Mr. Ratcliffe then sick: yet was that squirrel given me. I didnever heate a flesh pott but when the comon pott was so usedlikewise. Yet how often Mr. President's and the Counsellors' spittshave night and daye bene endaungered to break their backes-so, ladenwith swanns, geese, ducks, etc.! how many times their flesh pottshave swelled, many hungrie eies did behold, to their great longing:and what great theeves and theeving thear hath been in the comonstoare since my tyme, I doubt not but is already made knowne to hisMajesty's Councell for Virginia."

Poor Wingfield was not left at ease in his confinement. On the 17thhe was brought ashore to answer the charge of Jehu [John?] Robinsonthat he had with Robinson and others intended to run away with thepinnace to Newfoundland; and the charge by Mr. Smith that he hadaccused Smith of intending mutiny. To the first accuser the juryawarded one hundred pounds, and to the other two hundred poundsdamages, for slander. "Seeing their law so speedy and cheap," Mr.Wingfield thought he would try to recover a copper kettle he had lentMr. Crofts, worth half its weight in gold. But Crofts swore thatWingfield had given it to him, and he lost his kettle: "I told Mr.President I had not known the like law, and prayed they would be moresparing of law till we had more witt or wealthe." Another day theyobtained from Wingfield the key to his coffers, and took all hisaccounts, note-books, and "owne proper goods," which he could neverrecover. Thus was I made good prize on all sides."

During one of Smith's absences on the river President Ratcliffe didbeat James Read, the blacksmith. Wingfield says the Council werecontinually beating the men for their own pleasure. Read struckback.

For this he was condemned to be hanged; but "before he turned of thelather," he desired to speak privately with the President, andthereupon accused Mr. Kendall—who had been released from the pinnacewhen Wingfield was sent aboard—of mutiny. Read escaped. Kendallwas convicted of mutiny and shot to death. In arrest of judgment heobjected that the President had no authority to pronounce judgmentbecause his name was Sicklemore and not Ratcliffe. This was true,and Mr. Martin pronounced the sentence. In his "True Relation,"Smith agrees with this statement of the death of Kendall, and saysthat he was tried by a jury. It illustrates the general looseness ofthe "General Historie," written and compiled many years afterwards,that this transaction there appears as follows: "Wingfield andKendall being in disgrace, seeing all things at random in the absenceof Smith, the company's dislike of their President's weakness, andtheir small love to Martin's never-mending sickness, strengthenedthemselves with the sailors and other confederates to regain theirpower, control, and authority, or at least such meanes aboard thepinnace (being fitted to sail as Smith had appointed for trade) toalter her course and to goe for England. Smiith unexpectedlyreturning had the plot discovered to him, much trouble he had toprevent it, till with store of sakre and musket-shot he forced themto stay or sink in the river, which action cost the life of CaptainKendall."

In a following sentence he says: "The President [Ratcliffe] andCaptain Archer not long after intended also to have abandoned thecountry, which project also was curbed and suppressed by Smith."Smith was always suppressing attempts at flight, according to his ownstory, unconfirmed by any other writers. He had before accusedPresident Wingfield of a design to escape in the pinnace.

Communications were evidently exchanged with Mr. Wingfield on thepinnace, and the President was evidently ill at ease about him. Oneday he was summoned ashore, but declined to go, and requested aninterview with ten gentlemen. To those who came off to him he saidthat he had determined to go to England to make known the weakness ofthe colony, that he could not live under the laws and usurpations ofthe Triumvirate; however, if the President and Mr. Archer would go,he was willing to stay and take his fortune with the colony, or hewould contribute one hundred pounds towards taking the colony home."They did like none of my proffers, but made divers shott at uss inthe pynnasse." Thereupon he went ashore and had a conference.

On the 10th of December Captain Smith departed on his famousexpedition up the Chickahominy, during which the alleged Pocahontasepisode occurred. Mr. Wingfield's condensed account of this journeyand captivity we shall refer to hereafter. In Smith's absencePresident Ratcliffe, contrary to his oath, swore Mr. Archer one ofthe Council; and Archer was no sooner settled in authority than hesought to take Smith's life. The enmity of this man must be regardedas a long credit mark to Smith. Archer had him indicted upon achapter in Leviticus (they all wore a garb of piety) for the death oftwo men who were killed by the Indians on his expedition. "He hadhad his trials the same daie of his retourne," says Wingfield, "and Ibelieve his hanging the same, or the next daie, so speedy is our lawthere. But it pleased God to send Captain Newport unto us the sameevening, to our unspeakable comfort; whose arrivall saved Mr. Smyth'sleif and mine, because he took me out of the pynnasse, and gave meleave to lyve in the towne. Also by his comyng was prevented aparliament, which the newe counsailor, Mr. Recorder, intended thearto summon."

Captain Newport's arrival was indeed opportune. He was the only oneof the Council whose character and authority seem to have beengenerally respected, the only one who could restore any sort ofharmony and curb the factious humors of the other leaders. Smithshould have all credit for his energy in procuring supplies, for hissagacity in dealing with the Indians, for better sense than most ofthe other colonists exhibited, and for more fidelity to the objectsof the plantation than most of them; but where ability to rule isclaimed for him, at this juncture we can but contrast the deferenceshown by all to Newport with the want of it given to Smith.Newport's presence at once quelled all the uneasy spirits.

Newport's arrival, says Wingfield, "saved Mr Smith's life and mine."Smith's account of the episode is substantially the same. In his"True Relation" he says on his return to the fort "each man withtruest signs of joy they could express welcomed me, except Mr.Archer, and some two or three of his, who was then in my absencesworn councilor, though not with the consent of Captain Martin; greatblame and imputation was laid upon me by them for the loss of our twomen which the Indians slew: insomuch that they purposed to depose me,but in the midst of my miseries, it pleased God to send CaptainNewport, who arriving there the same night, so tripled our joy, asfor a while those plots against me were deferred, though with muchmalice against me, which Captain Newport in short time did plainlysee." In his "Map of Virginia," the Oxford tract of 1612, Smith doesnot allude to this; but in the "General Historie" it had assumed adifferent aspect in his mind, for at the time of writing that he wasthe irresistible hero, and remembered himself as always nearlyomnipotent in Virginia. Therefore, instead of expressions ofgratitude to Newport we read this: "Now in Jamestown they were all incombustion, the strongest preparing once more to run away with thepinnace; which with the hazard of his life, with Sakre, falcon andmusket shot, Smith forced now the third time to stay or sink. Someno better than they should be, had plotted to put him to death by theLevitical law, for the lives of Robinson and Emry, pretending thatthe fault was his, that led them to their ends; but he quickly tooksuch order with such Lawyers, that he laid them by the heels till hesent some of them prisoners to England."

Clearly Captain Smith had no authority to send anybody prisoner toEngland. When Newport returned, April 10th, Wingfield and Archerwent with him. Wingfield no doubt desired to return. Archer was soinsolent, seditious, and libelous that he only escaped the halter bythe interposition of Newport. The colony was willing to spare boththese men, and probably Newport it was who decided they should go.As one of the Council, Smith would undoubtedly favor their going. Hesays in the "General Historie": "We not having any use ofparliaments, plaises, petitions, admirals, recorders, interpreters,chronologers, courts of plea, or justices of peace, sent MasterWingfield and Captain Archer home with him, that had engrossed allthose titles, to seek some better place of employment." Mr.Wingfield never returned. Captain Archer returned in 1609, with theexpedition of Gates and Somers, as master of one of the ships.

Newport had arrived with the first supply on the 8th of January,1608. The day before, according to Wingfield, a fire occurred whichdestroyed nearly all the town, with the clothing and provisions.According to Smith, who is probably correct in this, the fire did notoccur till five or six days after the arrival of the ship. The dateis uncertain, and some doubt is also thrown upon the date of thearrival of the ship. It was on the day of Smith's return fromcaptivity: and that captivity lasted about four weeks if the returnwas January 8th, for he started on the expedition December 10th.Smith subsequently speaks of his captivity lasting six or sevenweeks.

In his "General Historie" Smith says the fire happened after thereturn of the expedition of Newport, Smith, and Scrivener to thePamunkey: "Good Master Hunt, our Preacher, lost all his library, andall he had but the clothes on his back; yet none ever heard himrepine at his loss." This excellent and devoted man is the only oneof these first pioneers of whom everybody speaks well, and hedeserved all affection and respect.

One of the first labors of Newport was to erect a suitable church.
Services had been held under many disadvantages, which Smith depicts
in his "Advertisem*nts for Unexperienced Planters," published in
London in 1631:

"When I first went to Virginia, I well remember, we did hang anawning (which is an old saile) to three or foure trees to shadow usfrom the Sunne, our walls were rales of wood, our seats unhewedtrees, till we cut plankes, our Pulpit a bar of wood nailed to twoneighboring trees, in foule weather we shifted into an old rottentent, for we had few better, and this came by the way of adventurefor me; this was our Church, till we built a homely thing like abarne, set upon Cratchets, covered with rafts, sedge and earth, sowas also the walls: the best of our houses of the like curiosity, butthe most part farre much worse workmanship, that could neither welldefend wind nor raine, yet we had daily Common Prayer morning andevening, every day two Sermons, and every three moneths the holyCommunion, till our Minister died, [Robert Hunt] but our Prayersdaily, with an Homily on Sundaies."

It is due to Mr. Wingfield, who is about to disappear from Virginia,that something more in his defense against the charges of Smith andthe others should be given. It is not possible now to say how thesuspicion of his religious soundness arose, but there seems to havebeen a notion that he had papal tendencies. His grandfather, SirRichard Wingfield, was buried in Toledo, Spain. His father, ThomasMaria Wingfield, was christened by Queen Mary and Cardinal Pole.These facts perhaps gave rise to the suspicion. He answers them withsome dignity and simplicity, and with a little querulousness :

"It is noised that I combyned with the Spanniards to the distruccionof the Collony; that I ame an atheist, because I carryed not a Biblewith me, and because I did forbid the preacher to preache; that Iaffected a kingdome; that I did hide of the comon provision in theground.

"I confesse I have alwayes admyred any noble vertue and prowesse, aswell in the Spanniards (as in other nations): but naturally I havealwayes distrusted and disliked their neighborhoode. I sorted manybookes in my house, to be sent up to me at my goeing to Virginia;amongst them a Bible. They were sent up in a trunk to London, withdivers fruite, conserves, and preserves, which I did sett in Mr.Crofts his house in Ratcliff. In my beeing at Virginia, I didunderstand my trunk was thear broken up, much lost, my sweetmeateseaten at his table, some of my bookes which I missed to be seene inhis hands: and whether amongst them my Bible was so ymbeasiled ormislayed by my servants, and not sent me, I knowe not as yet.

"Two or three Sunday mornings, the Indians gave us allarums at ourtowne. By that tymes they weare answered, the place about us welldiscovered, and our devyne service ended, the daie was farr spent.The preacher did aske me if it were my pleasure to have a sermon: heesaid hee was prepared for it. I made answere, that our men wereweary and hungry, and that he did see the time of the daie farr past(for at other tymes bee never made such question, but, the servicefinished he began his sermon); and that, if it pleased him, wee wouldspare him till some other tyme. I never failed to take such noatesby wrighting out of his doctrine as my capacity could comprehend,unless some raynie day hindred my endeavor. My mynde never swelledwith such ympossible mountebank humors as could make me affect anyother kingdome than the kingdom of heaven.

"As truly as God liveth, I gave an ould man, then the keeper of theprivate store, 2 glasses with sallet oyle which I brought with me outof England for my private stoare, and willed him to bury it in theground, for that I feared the great heate would spoile it.Whatsoever was more, I did never consent unto or know of it, and astruly was it protested unto me, that all the remaynder beforemencioned of the oyle, wyne, &c., which the President receyved of mewhen I was deposed they themselves poored into their owne bellyes.

"To the President's and Counsell's objections I saie that I doe knowecurtesey and civility became a governor. No penny whittle was askedme, but a knife, whereof I have none to spare The Indyans had longbefore stoallen my knife. Of chickins I never did eat but one, andthat in my sicknes. Mr. Ratcliff had before that time tasted Of 4 or5. I had by my owne huswiferie bred above 37, and the most part ofthem my owne poultrye; of all which, at my comyng awaie, I did notsee three living. I never denyed him (or any other) beare, when Ihad it. The corne was of the same which we all lived upon.

"Mr. Smyth, in the time of our hungar, had spread a rumor in theCollony, that I did feast myself and my servants out of the comonstoare, with entent (as I gathered) to have stirred the discontentedcompany against me. I told him privately, in Mr. Gosnold's tent,that indeede I had caused half a pint of pease to be sodden with apeese of pork, of my own provision, for a poore old man, which in asicknes (whereof he died) he much desired; and said, that if out ofhis malice he had given it out otherwise, that hee did tell a leye.It was proved to his face, that he begged in Ireland like a rogue,without a lycence. To such I would not my nam should be acompanyon."

The explanation about the Bible as a part of his baggage is a littlefar-fetched, and it is evident that that book was not his dailycompanion. Whether John Smith habitually carried one about with himwe are not informed. The whole passage quoted gives us a curiouspicture of the mind and of the habits of the time. This allusion toJohn Smith's begging is the only reference we can find to his havingbeen in Ireland. If he was there it must have been in that interimin his own narrative between his return from Morocco and his going toVirginia. He was likely enough to seek adventure there, as thehangers-on of the court in Raleigh's day occasionally did, andperhaps nothing occurred during his visit there that he cared tocelebrate. If he went to Ireland he probably got in straits there,for that was his usual luck.

Whatever is the truth about Mr. Wingfield's inefficiency andembezzlement of corn meal, Communion sack, and penny whittles, hisenemies had no respect for each other or concord among themselves.It is Wingfield's testimony that Ratcliffe said he would not havebeen deposed if he had visited Ratcliffe during his sickness. Smithsaid that Wingfield would not have been deposed except for Archer;that the charges against him were frivolous. Yet, says Wingfield, "Ido believe him the first and only practiser in these practices," andhe attributed Smith's hostility to the fact that "his name wasmentioned in the intended and confessed mutiny by Galthrop." Nootherreference is made to this mutiny. Galthrop was one of those who diedin the previous August.

One of the best re-enforcements of the first supply was MatthewScrivener, who was appointed one of the Council. He was a sensibleman, and he and Smith worked together in harmony for some time. Theywere intent upon building up the colony. Everybody else in the campwas crazy about the prospect of gold: there was, says Smith, "notalk, no hope, no work, but dig gold, wash gold, refine gold, loadgold, such a bruit of gold that one mad fellow desired to be buriedin the sands, lest they should by their art make gold of his bones."He charges that Newport delayed his return to England on account ofthis gold fever, in order to load his vessel (which remained fourteenweeks when it might have sailed in fourteen days) with gold-dust.Captain Martin seconded Newport in this; Smith protested against it;he thought Newport was no refiner, and it did torment him "to see allnecessary business neglected, to fraught such a drunken ship with somuch gilded durt." This was the famous load of gold that proved tobe iron pyrites.

In speaking of the exploration of the James River as far as the Fallsby Newport, Smith, and Percy, we have followed the statements ofPercy and the writer of Newport's discovery that they saw the greatPowhatan. There is much doubt of this. Smith in his "True Relation"does not say so; in his voyage up the Chickahominy he seems to haveseen Powhatan for the first time; and Wingfield speaks of Powhatan,on Smith's return from that voyage, as one "of whom before we had noknowledge." It is conjectured that the one seen at Powhatan's seatnear the Falls was a son of the "Emperor." It was partly theexaggeration of the times to magnify discoveries, and partly Englishlove of high titles, that attributed such titles as princes,emperors, and kings to the half-naked barbarians and petty chiefs ofVirginia.

In all the accounts of the colony at this period, no mention is madeof women, and it is not probable that any went over with the firstcolonists. The character of the men was not high. Many of them were"gentlemen" adventurers, turbulent spirits, who would not work, whowere much better fitted for piratical maraudings than the labor offounding a state. The historian must agree with the impressionconveyed by Smith, that it was poor material out of which to make acolony.

VII

SMITH TO THE FRONT

It is now time to turn to Smith's personal adventures among theIndians during this period. Almost our only authority is Smithhimself, or such presumed writings of his companions as he edited orrewrote. Strachey and others testify to his energy in procuringsupplies for the colony, and his success in dealing with the Indians,and it seems likely that the colony would have famished but for hisexertions. Whatever suspicion attaches to Smith's relation of hisown exploits, it must never be forgotten that he was a man ofextraordinary executive ability, and had many good qualities tooffset his vanity and impatience of restraint.

After the departure of Wingfield, Captain Smith was constrained toact as Cape Merchant; the leaders were sick or discontented, the restwere in despair, and would rather starve and rot than do anything fortheir own relief, and the Indian trade was decreasing. Under thesecirc*mstances, Smith says in his "True Relation," "I was sent to themouth of the river, to Kegquoughtan [now Hampton], an Indian Towne,to trade for corn, and try the river for fish." The Indians,thinking them near famished, tantalized them with offers of littlebits of bread in exchange for a hatchet or a piece of copper, andSmith offered trifles in return. The next day the Indians wereanxious to trade. Smith sent men up to their town, a display offorce was made by firing four guns, and the Indians kindly traded,giving fish, oysters, bread, and deer. The town contained eighteenhouses, and heaps of grain. Smith obtained fifteen bushels of it,and on his homeward way he met two canoes with Indians, whom heaccompanied to their villages on the south side of the river, and gotfrom them fifteen bushels more.

This incident is expanded in the "General Historie." After the lapseof fifteen years Smith is able to remember more details, and toconceive himself as the one efficient man who had charge ofeverything outside the fort, and to represent his dealings with theIndians in a much more heroic and summary manner. He was not sent onthe expedition, but went of his own motion. The account opens inthis way: "The new President [Ratcliffe] and Martin, being littlebeloved, of weake judgement in dangers, and loose industrie in peace,committed the management of all things abroad to Captain Smith; whoby his own example, good words, and fair promises, set some to mow,others to binde thatch, some to builde houses, others to thatch them,himselfe always bearing the greatest taske for his own share, so thatin short time he provided most of them with lodgings, neglecting anyfor himselfe. This done, seeing the Salvage superfluities beginne todecrease (with some of his workmen) shipped himself in the Shallop tosearch the country for trade."

In this narration, when the Indians trifled with Smith he fired avolley at them, ran his boat ashore, and pursued them fleeing towardstheir village, where were great heaps of corn that he could withdifficulty restrain his soldiers [six or seven] from taking. TheIndians then assaulted them with a hideous noise: "Sixty or seventyof them, some black, some red, some white, some particoloured, camein a square order, singing and dancing out of the woods, with theirOkee (which is an Idol made of skinnes, stuffed with mosse, andpainted and hung with chains and copper) borne before them; and inthis manner being well armed with clubs, targets, bowes and arrowes,they charged the English that so kindly received them with theirmuskets loaden with pistol shot, that down fell their God, and diverslay sprawling on the ground; the rest fled againe to the woods, andere long sent men of their Quiyoughkasoucks [conjurors] to offerpeace and redeeme the Okee." Good feeling was restored, and thesavages brought the English "venison, turkies, wild fowl, bread allthat they had, singing and dancing in sign of friendship till theydeparted." This fantastical account is much more readable than theformer bare narration.

The supplies which Smith brought gave great comfort to the despairingcolony, which was by this time reasonably fitted with houses. But itwas not long before they again ran short of food. In his firstnarrative Smith says there were some motions made for the Presidentand Captain Arthur to go over to England and procure a supply, but itwas with much ado concluded that the pinnace and the barge should goup the river to Powhatan to trade for corn, and the lot fell to Smithto command the expedition. In his "General Historie" a littledifferent complexion is put upon this. On his return, Smith says, hesuppressed an attempt to run away with the pinnace to England. Herepresents that what food "he carefully provided the rest carelesslyspent," and there is probably much truth in his charges that thesettlers were idle and improvident. He says also that they were incontinual broils at this time. It is in the fall of 1607, justbefore his famous voyage up the Chickahominy, on which he departedDecember 10th—that he writes: "The President and Captain Arthurintended not long after to have abandoned the country, which projectwas curbed and suppressed by Smith. The Spaniard never more greedilydesired gold than he victual, nor his soldiers more to abandon thecountry than he to keep it. But finding plenty of corn in the riverof Chickahomania, where hundreds of salvages in divers places stoodwith baskets expecting his coming, and now the winter approaching,the rivers became covered with swans, geese, ducks, and cranes, thatwe daily feasted with good bread, Virginia peas, pumpions, andputchamins, fish, fowls, and divers sorts of wild beasts as fat as wecould eat them, so that none of our Tuftaffaty humorists desired togo to England."

While the Chickahominy expedition was preparing, Smith made a voyageto Popohanock or Quiyoughcohanock, as it is called on his map, a townon the south side of the river, above Jamestown. Here the women andchildren fled from their homes and the natives refused to trade.They had plenty of corn, but Smith says he had no commission to spoilthem. On his return he called at Paspahegh, a town on the north sideof the James, and on the map placed higher than Popohanock, butevidently nearer to Jamestown, as he visited it on his return. Heobtained ten bushels of corn of the churlish and treacherous natives,who closely watched and dogged the expedition.

Everything was now ready for the journey to Powhatan. Smith had thebarge and eight men for trading and discovery, and the pinnace was tofollow to take the supplies at convenient landings. On the 9th ofNovember he set out in the barge to explore the Chickahominy, whichis described as emptying into the James at Paspahegh, eight milesabove the fort. The pinnace was to ascend the river twenty miles toPoint Weanock, and to await Smith there. All the month of NovemberSmith toiled up and down the Chickahominy, discovering and visitingmany villages, finding the natives kindly disposed and eager totrade, and possessing abundance of corn. Notwithstanding thisabundance, many were still mutinous. At this time occurred thePresident's quarrel with the blacksmith, who, for assaulting thePresident, was condemned to death, and released on disclosing aconspiracy of which Captain Kendall was principal; and the latter wasexecuted in his place. Smith returned from a third voyage to theChickahominy with more supplies, only to find the matter of sendingthe pinnace to England still debated.

This project, by the help of Captain Martin, he again quieted and atlast set forward on his famous voyage into the country of Powhatanand Pocahontas.

VIII

THE FAMOUS CHICKAHOMINY VOYAGE

We now enter upon the most interesting episode in the life of thegallant captain, more thrilling and not less romantic than thecaptivity in Turkey and the tale of the faithful love of the fairyoung mistress Charatza Tragabigzanda.

Although the conduct of the lovely Charatza in despatching Smith toher cruel brother in Nalbrits, where he led the life of a dog, wasnever explained, he never lost faith in her. His loyalty to womenwas equal to his admiration of them, and it was bestowed withoutregard to race or complexion. Nor is there any evidence that thedusky Pocahontas, who is about to appear, displaced in his heart theimage of the too partial Tragabigzanda. In regard to women, as tohis own exploits, seen in the light of memory, Smith possessed acreative imagination. He did not create Pocahontas, as perhaps hemay have created the beautiful mistress of Bashaw Bogall, but heinvested her with a romantic interest which forms a lovely halo abouthis own memory.

As this voyage up the Chickahominy is more fruitful in itsconsequences than Jason's voyage to Colchis; as it exhibits theenergy, daring, invention, and various accomplishments of CaptainSmith, as warrior, negotiator, poet, and narrator; as it describesSmith's first and only captivity among the Indians; and as it wasduring this absence of four weeks from Jamestown, if ever, thatPocahontas interposed to prevent the beating out of Smith's brainswith a club, I shall insert the account of it in full, both Smith'sown varying relations of it, and such contemporary notices of it asnow come to light. It is necessary here to present several accounts,just as they stand, and in the order in which they were written, thatthe reader may see for himself how the story of Pocahontas grew toits final proportions. The real life of Pocahontas will form thesubject of another chapter.

The first of these accounts is taken from "The True Relation,"written by Captain John Smith, composed in Virginia, the earliestpublished work relating to the James River Colony. It covers aperiod of a little more than thirteen months, from the arrival atCape Henry on April 26, 1607, to the return of Captain Nelson in thePhoenix, June 2, 1608. The manuscript was probably taken home byCaptain Nelson, and it was published in London in 1608. Whether itwas intended for publication is doubtful; but at that time all newsof the venture in Virginia was eagerly sought, and a narrative ofthis importance would naturally speedily get into print.

In the several copies of it extant there are variations in the title-page, which was changed while the edition was being printed. In somethe name of Thomas Watson is given as the author, in others"A Gentleman of the Colony," and an apology appears signed " T. H.,"for the want of knowledge or inadvertence of attributing it to anyone except Captain Smith.

There is no doubt that Smith was its author. He was still inVirginia when it was printed, and the printers made sad work of partsof his manuscript. The question has been raised, in view of theentire omission of the name of Pocahontas in connection with thisvoyage and captivity, whether the manuscript was not cut by those whopublished it. The reason given for excision is that the promoters ofthe Virginia scheme were anxious that nothing should appear todiscourage capitalists, or to deter emigrants, and that this story ofthe hostility and cruelty of Powhatan, only averted by the tendermercy of his daughter, would have an unfortunate effect. The answerto this is that the hostility was exhibited by the captivity and theintimation that Smith was being fatted to be eaten, and this waspermitted to stand. It is wholly improbable that an incident soromantic, so appealing to the imagination, in an age when wonder-tales were eagerly welcomed, and which exhibited such tender pity inthe breast of a savage maiden, and such paternal clemency in a savagechief, would have been omitted. It was calculated to lend a livelyinterest to the narration, and would be invaluable as anadvertisem*nt of the adventure.

[For a full bibliographical discussion of this point the reader isreferred to the reprint of "The True Relation," by Charles Deane,Esq., Boston, 1864, the preface and notes to which are a masterpieceof critical analysis.]

That some portions of "The True Relation " were omitted is possible.There is internal evidence of this in the abrupt manner in which itopens, and in the absence of allusions to the discords during thevoyage and on the arrival. Captain Smith was not the man to passover such questions in silence, as his subsequent caustic letter senthome to the Governor and Council of Virginia shows. And it isprobable enough that the London promoters would cut out from the"Relation" complaints and evidence of the seditions and helplessstate of the colony. The narration of the captivity is consistent asit stands, and wholly inconsistent with the Pocahontas episode.

We extract from the narrative after Smith's departure from Apocant,the highest town inhabited, between thirty and forty miles up theriver, and below Orapaks, one of Powhatan's seats, which also appearson his map. He writes:

"Ten miles higher I discovered with the barge; in the midway a greattree hindered my passage, which I cut in two: heere the river becamenarrower, 8, 9 or 10 foote at a high water, and 6 or 7 at a lowe: thestream exceeding swift, and the bottom hard channell, the ground mostpart a low plaine, sandy soyle, this occasioned me to suppose itmight issue from some lake or some broad ford, for it could not befar to the head, but rather then I would endanger the barge, yet tohave beene able to resolve this doubt, and to discharge theimputating malicious tungs, that halfe suspected I durst not for solong delaying, some of the company, as desirous as myself, weresolved to hier a canow, and returne with the barge to Apocant,there to leave the barge secure, and put ourselves upon theadventure: the country onely a vast and wilde wilderness, and butonly that Towne: within three or foure mile we hired a canow, and 2Indians to row us ye next day a fowling: having made such provisionfor the barge as was needfull, I left her there to ride, withexpresse charge not any to go ashore til my returne. Though somewise men may condemn this too bould attempt of too much indiscretion,yet if they well consider the friendship of the Indians, inconducting me, the desolatenes of the country, the probabilitie ofsome lacke, and the malicious judges of my actions at home, as alsoto have some matters of worth to incourage our adventurers inengland, might well have caused any honest minde to have done thelike, as wel for his own discharge as for the publike good: having 2Indians for my guide and 2 of our own company, I set forward, leaving7 in the barge; having discovered 20 miles further in this desart,the river stil kept his depth and bredth, but much more combred withtrees; here we went ashore (being some 12 miles higher than ye bargehad bene) to refresh our selves, during the boyling of our vituals:one of the Indians I tooke with me, to see the nature of the soile,and to cross the boughts of the river, the other Indian I left withM. Robbinson and Thomas Emry, with their matches light and order todischarge a peece, for my retreat at the first sight of any Indian,but within a quarter of an houre I heard a loud cry, and a hollowingof Indians, but no warning peece, supposing them surprised, and thatthe Indians had betraid us, presently I seazed him and bound his armefast to my hand in a garter, with my pistoll ready bent to berevenged on him: he advised me to fly and seemed ignorant of what wasdone, but as we went discoursing, I was struck with an arrow on theright thigh, but without harme: upon this occasion I espied 2 Indiansdrawing their bowes, which I prevented in discharging a frenchpistoll: by that I had charged again 3 or 4 more did the 'like, forthe first fell downe and fled: at my discharge they did the like, myhinde I made my barricade, who offered not to strive, 20 or 30arrowes were shot at me but short, 3 or 4 times I had discharged mypistoll ere the king of Pamauck called Opeckakenough with 200 men,environed me, each drawing their bowe, which done they laid them uponthe ground, yet without shot, my hinde treated betwixt them and me ofconditions of peace, he discovered me to be the captaine, my requestwas to retire to ye boate, they demanded my armes, the rest theysaide were slaine, onely me they would reserve: the Indian importunedme not to shoot. In retiring being in the midst of a low quagmire,and minding them more than my steps, I stept fast into the quagmire,and also the Indian in drawing me forth: thus surprised, I resolvedto trie their mercies, my armes I caste from me, till which nonedurst approch me: being ceazed on me, they drew me out and led me tothe King, I presented him with a compasse diall, describing by mybest meanes the use thereof, whereat he so amazedly admired, as hesuffered me to proceed in a discourse of the roundnes of the earth,the course of the sunne, moone, starres and plannets, with kindespeeches and bread he requited me, conducting me where the canow layand John Robinson slaine, with 20 or 30 arrowes in him. Emry I sawnot, I perceived by the abundance of fires all over the woods, ateach place I expected when they would execute me, yet they used mewith what kindnes they could: approaching their Towne which waswithin 6 miles where I was taken, onely made as arbors and coveredwith mats, which they remove as occasion requires: all the women andchildren, being advertised of this accident came forth to meet, theKing well guarded with 20 bow men 5 flanck and rear and each flanckbefore him a sword and a peece, and after him the like, then abowman, then I on each hand a boweman, the rest in file in the reare,which reare led forth amongst the trees in a bishion, eache his boweand a handfull of arrowes, a quiver at his back grimly painted: oneache flanck a sargeant, the one running alwaiss towards the frontthe other towards the reare, each a true pace and in exceeding goodorder, this being a good time continued, they caste themselves in aring with a daunce, and so eache man departed to his lodging, thecaptain conducting me to his lodging, a quarter of Venison and someten pound of bread I had for supper, what I left was reserved for me,and sent with me to my lodging: each morning three women presented methree great platters of fine bread, more venison than ten men coulddevour I had, my gowne, points and garters, my compas and a tabletthey gave me again, though 8 ordinarily guarded me, I wanted not whatthey could devise to content me: and still our longer acquaintanceincreased our better affection: much they threatened to assault ourforte as they were solicited by the King of Paspahegh, who shewed atour fort great signs of sorrow for this mischance: the King tookgreat delight in understanding the manner of our ships and saylingthe seas, the earth and skies and of our God: what he knew of thedominions he spared not to acquaint me with, as of certaine mencloathed at a place called Ocanahonun, cloathed like me, the courseof our river, and that within 4 or 5 daies journey of the falles, wasa great turning of salt water: I desired he would send a messenger toPaspahegh, with a letter I would write, by which they shouldunderstand, how kindly they used me, and that I was well, lest theyshould revenge my death; this he granted and sent three men, in suchweather, as in reason were unpossible, by any naked to be indured:their cruell mindes towards the fort I had deverted, in describingthe ordinance and the mines in the fields, as also the revengeCaptain Newport would take of them at his returne, their intent, Iincerted the fort, the people of Ocanahomm and the back sea, thisreport they after found divers Indians that confirmed: the next dayafter my letter, came a salvage to my lodging, with his sword to haveslaine me, but being by my guard intercepted, with a bowe and arrowhe offred to have effected his purpose: the cause I knew not, tillthe King understanding thereof came and told me of a man a dyingwounded with my pistoll: he tould me also of another I had slayne,yet the most concealed they had any hurte: this was the father of himI had slayne, whose fury to prevent, the King presently conducted meto another kingdome, upon the top of the next northerly river, calledYoughtanan, having feasted me, he further led me to another branch ofthe river called Mattapament, to two other hunting townes they ledme, and to each of these Countries, a house of the great Emperor ofPewhakan, whom as yet I supposed to be at the Fals, to him I toldehim I must goe, and so returne to Paspahegh, after this foure or fivedayes march we returned to Rasawrack, the first towne they brought metoo, where binding the mats in bundles, they marched two dayesjourney and crossed the River of Youghtanan, where it was as broad asThames: so conducting me too a place called Menapacute in Pamunke,where ye King inhabited; the next day another King of that nationcalled Kekataugh, having received some kindness of me at the Fort,kindly invited me to feast at his house, the people from all placesflocked to see me, each shewing to content me. By this the greatKing hath foure or five houses, each containing fourscore or anhundred foote in length, pleasantly seated upon an high sandy hill,from whence you may see westerly a goodly low country, the riverbefore the which his crooked course causeth many great Marshes ofexceeding good ground. An hundred houses, and many large plaines arehere together inhabited, more abundance of fish and fowle, and apleasanter seat cannot be imagined: the King with fortie bowmen toguard me, intreated me to discharge my Pistoll, which they therepresented me with a mark at six score to strike therewith but tospoil the practice I broke the co*cke, whereat they were muchdiscontented though a chaunce supposed. From hence this kind Kingconducted me to a place called Topahanocke, a kingdome upon anotherriver northward; the cause of this was, that the yeare before, ashippe had beene in the River of Pamunke, who having been kindlyentertained by Powhatan their Emperour, they returned thence, anddiscovered the River of Topahanocke, where being received with likekindnesse, yet he slue the King, and tooke of his people, and theysupposed I were bee, but the people reported him a great man that wasCaptaine, and using mee kindly, the next day we departed. This Riverof Topahanock, seemeth in breadth not much lesse than that we dwellupon. At the mouth of the River is a Countrey called Cuttata women,upwards is Marraugh tacum Tapohanock, Apparnatuck, and Nantaugstacum, at Topmanahocks, the head issuing from many Mountains, thenext night I lodged at a hunting town of Powhatam's, and the next dayarrived at Waranacomoco upon the river of Parnauncke, where the greatking is resident: by the way we passed by the top of another littleriver, which is betwixt the two called Payankatank. The most of thiscountry though Desert, yet exceeding fertil, good timber, most hilsand in dales, in each valley a cristall spring.

"Arriving at Weramacomoco, their Emperour, proudly lying upon aBedstead a foote high upon tenne or twelve Mattes, richly hung withmanie Chaynes of great Pearles about his necke, and covered with agreat covering of Rahaughc*ms: At heade sat a woman, at his feeteanother, on each side sitting upon a Matte upon the ground wereraunged his chiefe men on each side the fire, tenne in a ranke andbehinde them as many yong women, each a great Chaine of white Beadesover their shoulders: their heades painted in redde and with such agrave and Majeslicall countenance, as drove me into admiration to seesuch state in a naked Salvage, bee kindlv welcomed me with goodwordes, and great Platters of sundrie victuals, asiuring mee hisfriendship and my libertie within foure dayes, bee much delighted inOpechan Conough's relation of what I had described to him, and oftexamined me upon the same. Hee asked me the cause of our comming, Itolde him being in fight with the Spaniards our enemie, being overpowred, neare put to retreat, and by extreme weather put to thisshore, where landing at Chesipiack, the people shot us, but atKequoughtan they kindly used us, wee by signes demaunded fresh water,they described us up the River was all fresh water, at Paspahegh,also they kindly used us, our Pinnasse being leake wee were inforcedto stay to mend her, till Captain Newport my father came to conductus away. He demaunded why we went further with our Boate, I toldehim, in that I would have occasion to talke of the backe Sea, that onthe other side the maine, where was salt water, my father had achilde slaine, which we supposed Monocan his enemie, whose death weintended to revenge. After good deliberation, hee began to describeme the countreys beyond the Falles, wiih many of the rest, confirmingwhat not only Opechancanoyes, and an Indian which had been prisonerto Pewhatan had before tolde mee, but some called it five days, somesixe, some eight, where the sayde water dashed amongst many stonesand rocks, each storme which caused oft tymes the heade of the Riverto bee brackish: Anchanachuck he described to bee the people that hadslaine my brother, whose death hee would revenge. Hee described alsoupon the same Sea, a mighty nation called Pocoughtronack, a fiercenation that did eate men and warred with the people of Moyaoncer, andPataromerke, Nations upon the toppe of the heade of the Bay, underhis territories, where the yeare before they had slain an hundred, hesignified their crownes were shaven, long haire in the necke, tied ona knot, Swords like Pollaxes.

" Beyond them he described people with short Coates, and Sleeves tothe Elbowes, that passed that way in Shippes like ours. ManyKingdomes hee described mee to the heade of the Bay, which seemed tobee a mightie River, issuing from mightie mountaines, betwixt the twoseas; the people clothed at Ocamahowan. He also confirmed, and theSoutherly Countries also, as the rest, that reported us to be withina day and a halfe of Mangoge, two dayes of Chawwonock, 6 fromRoonock, to the South part of the backe sea: he described a countriecalled Anone, where they have abundance of Brasse, and houses walledas ours. I requited his discourse, seeing what pride he had in hisgreat and spacious Dominions, seeing that all hee knewe were underhis Territories.

" In describing to him the territories of Europe which was subject toour great King whose subject I was, the innumerable multitude of hisships, I gave him to understand the noyse of Trumpets and terriblemanner of fighting were under Captain Newport my father, whom Iintituled the Meworames which they call King of all the waters, athis greatnesse bee admired and not a little feared; he desired mee toforsake Paspahegh, and to live with him upon his River, a countriecalled Capa Howasicke; he promised to give me corne, venison, or whatI wanted to feede us, Hatchets and Copper wee should make him, andnone should disturbe us. This request I promised to performe: andthus having with all the kindnes hee could devise, sought to contentme, he sent me home with 4 men, one that usually carried my Gonne andKnapsacke after me, two other loded with bread, and one to accompanieme."

The next extract in regard to this voyage is from PresidentWingfield's "Discourse of Virginia," which appears partly in the formof a diary, but was probably drawn up or at least finished shortlyafter Wingfield's return to London in May, 1608. He was in Jamestownwhen Smith returned from his captivity, and would be likely to alludeto the romantic story of Pocahontas if Smith had told it on hisescape. We quote:

"Decem. —The 10th of December, Mr. Smyth went up the ryver of theChechohomynies to trade for corne; he was desirous to see the headeof that river; and, when it was not passible with the shallop, hehired a cannow and an Indian to carry him up further. The river thehigher grew worse and worse. Then hee went on shoare with his guide,and left Robinson and Emmery, and twoe of our Men, in the cannow;which were presently slayne by the Indians, Pamaonke's men, and heehimself taken prysoner, and, by the means of his guide, his lief wassaved; and Pamaonche, haveing him prisoner, carryed him to hisneybors wyroances, to see if any of them knew him for one of thosewhich had bene, some two or three eeres before us, in a river amongstthem Northward, and taken awaie some Indians from them by force. Atlast he brought him to the great Powaton (of whome before wee had noknowledg), who sent him home to our towne the 8th of January."

The next contemporary document to which we have occasion to refer isSmith's Letter to the Treasurer and Council of Virginia in England,written in Virginia after the arrival of Newport there in September,1608, and probably sent home by him near the close of that year. Inthis there is no occasion for a reference to Powhatan or hisdaughter, but he says in it: "I have sent you this Mappe of the Bayand Rivers, with an annexed Relation of the Countryes and Nationsthat inhabit them as you may see at large." This is doubtless the"Map of Virginia," with a description of the country, published sometwo or three years after Smith's return to England, at Oxford, 1612.It is a description of the country and people, and contains littlenarrative. But with this was published, as an appendix, an accountof the proceedings of the Virginia colonists from 1606 to 1612, takenout of the writings of Thomas Studley and several others who had beenresidents in Virginia. These several discourses were carefullyedited by William Symonds, a doctor of divinity and a man of learningand repute, evidently at the request of Smith. To the end of thevolume Dr. Symonds appends a note addressed to Smith, saying:"I return you the fruit of my labors, as Mr. Cranshaw requested me,which I bestowed in reading the discourses and hearing the relationsof such as have walked and observed the land of Virginia with you."These narratives by Smith's companions, which he made a part of hisOxford book, and which passed under his eye and had his approval, areuniformly not only friendly to him, but eulogistic of him, andprobably omit no incident known to the writers which would do himhonor or add interest to him as a knight of romance. Nor does itseem probable that Smith himself would have omitted to mention thedramatic scene of the prevented execution if it had occurred to him.If there had been a reason in the minds of others in 1608 why itshould not appear in the "True Relation," that reason did not existfor Smith at this time, when the discords and discouragements of thecolony were fully known. And by this time the young girl Pocahontashad become well known to the colonists at Jamestown. The account ofthis Chickahominy voyage given in this volume, published in 1612, issigned by Thomas Studley, and is as follows:

'The next voyage he proceeded so farre that with much labour bycutting of trees in sunder he made his passage, but when his Bargecould passe no farther, he left her in a broad bay out of danger ofshot, commanding none should go ashore till his returne; himselfewith 2 English and two Salvages went up higher in a Canowe, but hewas not long absent, but his men went ashore, whose want ofgovernment gave both occasion and opportunity to the Salvages tosurprise one George Casson, and much failed not to have cut of theboat and all the rest. Smith little dreaming of that accident, beinggot to the marshes at the river's head, 20 miles in the desert, hadhis 2 men slaine (as is supposed) sleeping by the Canowe, whilsthimselfe by fowling sought them victual, who finding he was beset by200 Salvages, 2 of them he slew, stil defending himselfe with the aidof a Salvage his guid (whome bee bound to his arme and used as hisbuckler), till at last slipping into a bogmire they tooke himprisoner: when this news came to the fort much was their sorrow forhis losse, fewe expecting what ensued. A month those Barbarians kepthim prisoner, many strange triumphs and conjurations they made ofhim, yet he so demeaned himselfe amongst them, as he not onlydiverted them from surprising the Fort, but procured his own liberty,and got himselfe and his company such estimation amongst them, thatthose Salvages admired him as a demi-God. So returning safe to theFort, once more staied the pinnas her flight for England, which tilhis returne could not set saile, so extreme was the weather and sogreat the frost."

The first allusion to the salvation of Captain Smith by Pocahontasoccurs in a letter or "little booke" which he wrote to Queen Anne in1616, about the time of the arrival in England of the IndianPrincess, who was then called the Lady Rebecca, and was wife of JohnRolfe, by whom she had a son, who accompanied them. Pocahontas hadby this time become a person of some importance. Her friendship hadbeen of substantial service to the colony. Smith had acknowledgedthis in his "True Relation," where he referred to her as the"nonpareil" of Virginia. He was kind-hearted and naturallymagnanimous, and would take some pains to do the Indian convert afavor, even to the invention of an incident that would make herattractive. To be sure, he was vain as well as inventive, and herewas an opportunity to attract the attention of his sovereign andincrease his own importance by connecting his name with hers in aromantic manner. Still, we believe that the main motive thatdictated this epistle was kindness to Pocahontas. The sentence thatrefers to her heroic act is this: "After some six weeks [he wasabsent only four weeks] fatting amongst those Salvage Countries, atthe minute of my execution she hazarded the beating out of her ownbraines to save mine, and not only that, but so prevailed with herfather [of whom he says, in a previous paragraph, "I received fromthis great Salvage exceeding great courtesie"], that I was safelyconducted to Jamestown."

This guarded allusion to the rescue stood for all known account ofit, except a brief reference to it in his "New England's Trials" of1622, until the appearance of Smith's "General Historie " in London,1624. In the first edition of "New England's Trials," 1620, there isno reference to it. In the enlarged edition of 1622, Smith gives anew version to his capture, as resulting from "the folly of them thatfled," and says: "God made Pocahontas, the King's daughter the meansto deliver me."

The "General Historie " was compiled—as was the custom in making upsuch books at the time from a great variety of sources. Such partsof it as are not written by Smith—and these constitute aconsiderable portion of the history—bear marks here and there of histouch. It begins with his description of Virginia, which appeared inthe Oxford tract of 1612; following this are the several narrativesby his comrades, which formed the appendix of that tract. The onethat concerns us here is that already quoted, signed Thomas Studley.It is reproduced here as "written by Thomas Studley," the first CapeMerchant in Virginia, Robert Fenton, Edward Harrington, and I. S."[John Smith]. It is, however, considerably extended, and into it isinterjected a detailed account of the captivity and the story of thestones, the clubs, and the saved brains.

It is worthy of special note that the "True Relation" is notincorporated in the "General Historie." This is the more remarkablebecause it was an original statement, written when the occurrences itdescribes were fresh, and is much more in detail regarding manythings that happened during the period it covered than the narrativesthat Smith uses in the " General Historie." It was his habit to useover and over again his own publications. Was this discarded becauseit contradicted the Pocahontas story—because that story could not befitted into it as it could be into the Studley relation?

It should be added, also, that Purchas printed an abstract of the
Oxford tract in his "Pilgrimage," in 1613, from material furnished
him by Smith. The Oxford tract was also republished by Purchas in
his "Pilgrimes," extended by new matter in manuscript supplied by
Smith. The "Pilgrimes" did not appear till 1625, a year after the "
General Historie," but was in preparation long before. The
Pocahontas legend appears in the "Pilgrimes," but not in the earlier
"Pilgrimage."

We have before had occasion to remark that Smith's memory had thepeculiarity of growing stronger and more minute in details thefurther he was removed in point of time from any event he describes.The revamped narrative is worth quoting in full for other reasons.It exhibits Smith's skill as a writer and his capacity for risinginto poetic moods. This is the story from the "General Historie":

"The next voyage hee proceeded so farre that with much labour bycutting of trees in sunder he made his passage, but when his Bargecould pass no farther, he left her in a broad bay out of danger ofshot, commanding none should goe ashore till his return: himselfewith two English and two Salvages went up higher in a Canowe, but hewas not long absent, but his men went ashore, whose want ofgovernment, gave both occasion and opportunity to the Salvages tosurprise one George Cassen, whom they slew, and much failed not tohave cut of the boat and all the rest. Smith little dreaming of thataccident, being got to the marshes at the river's head, twentie mylesin the desert, had his two men slaine (as is supposed) sleeping bythe Canowe, whilst himselfe by fowling sought them victuall, whofinding he was beset with 200 Salvages, two of them hee slew, stilldefending himself with the ayd of a Salvage his guide, whom he boundto his arme with his garters, and used him as a buckler, yet he wasshot in his thigh a little, and had many arrowes stucke in hiscloathes but no great hurt, till at last they tooke him prisoner.When this newes came to Jamestowne, much was their sorrow for hislosse, fewe expecting what ensued. Sixe or seven weekes thoseBarbarians kept him prisoner, many strange triumphes and conjurationsthey made of him, yet hee so demeaned himselfe amongst them, as henot onely diverted them from surprising the Fort, but procured hisowne libertie, and got himself and his company such estimationamongst them, that those Salvages admired him more than their owneQuiyouckosucks. The manner how they used and delivered him, is asfolloweth.

"The Salvages having drawne from George Cassen whether Captaine Smithwas gone, prosecuting that opportunity they followed him with 300bowmen, conducted by the King of Pamaunkee, who in divisionssearching the turnings of the river, found Robinson and Entry by thefireside, those they shot full of arrowes and slew. Then finding theCaptaine as is said, that used the Salvage that was his guide as hisshield (three of them being slaine and divers others so gauld) allthe rest would not come neere him. Thinking thus to have returned tohis boat, regarding them, as he marched, more then his way, slippedup to the middle in an oasie creeke and his Salvage with him, yetdurst they not come to him till being neere dead with cold, he threwaway his armes. Then according to their composition they drew himforth and led him to the fire, where his men were slaine. Diligentlythey chafed his benumbed limbs. He demanding for their Captaine,they shewed him Opechankanough, King of Pamaunkee, to whom he gave around Ivory double compass Dyall. Much they marvailed at the playingof the Fly and Needle, which they could see so plainly, and yet nottouch it, because of the glass that covered them. But when hedemonstrated by that Globe-like Jewell, the roundnesse of the earthand skies, the spheare of the Sunne, Moone, and Starres, and how theSunne did chase the night round about the world continually: thegreatnesse of the Land and Sea, the diversitie of Nations, varietieof Complexions, and how we were to them Antipodes, and many othersuch like matters, they all stood as amazed with admiration.Notwithstanding within an houre after they tyed him to a tree, and asmany as could stand about him prepared to shoot him, but the Kingholding up the Compass in his hand, they all laid downe their Bowesand Arrowes, and in a triumphant manner led him to Orapaks, where hewas after their manner kindly feasted and well used.

"Their order in conducting him was thus: Drawing themselves all infyle, the King in the middest had all their Peeces and Swords bornebefore him. Captaine Smith was led after him by three greatSalvages, holding him fast by each arme: and on each side six went infyle with their arrowes nocked. But arriving at the Towne (which wasbut onely thirtie or fortie hunting houses made of Mats, which theyremove as they please, as we our tents) all the women and childrenstaring to behold him, the souldiers first all in file performe theforme of a Bissom so well as could be: and on each flanke, officersas Serieants to see them keepe their orders. A good time theycontinued this exercise, and then cast themselves in a ring, dauncingin such severall Postures, and singing and yelling out such hellishnotes and screeches: being strangely painted, every one his quiver ofarrowes, and at his backe a club: on his arme a Fox or an Ottersskinne, or some such matter for his vambrace: their heads andshoulders painted red, with oyle and Pocones mingled together, whichScarlet like colour made an exceeding handsome shew, his Bow in hishand, and the skinne of a Bird with her wings abroad dryed, tyed onhis head, a peece of copper, a white shell, a long feather, with asmall rattle growing at the tayles of their snaks tyed to it, or somesuch like toy. All this time Smith and the King stood in the middestguarded, as before is said, and after three dances they all departed.Smith they conducted to a long house, where thirtie or fortie talIfellowes did guard him, and ere long more bread and venison werebrought him then would have served twentie men. I thinke hisstomacke at that time was not very good; what he left they put inbaskets and tyed over his head. About midnight they set the meatagain before him, all this time not one of them would eat a bit withhim, till the next morning they brought him as much more, and thendid they eate all the old, and reserved the new as they had done theother, which made him think they would fat him to eat him. Yet inthis desperate estate to defend him from the cold, one Maocassaterbrought him his gowne, in requitall of some beads and toyes Smith hadgiven him at his first arrival] in Firginia.

"Two days a man would have slaine him (but that the guard preventedit) for the death of his sonne, to whom they conducted him to recoverthe poore man then breathing his last. Smith told them that at Jamestowne he had a water would doe it if they would let him fetch it, butthey would not permit that: but made all the preparations they couldto assault James towne, craving his advice, and for recompence heshould have life, libertie, land, and women. In part of a Tablebooke he writ his mind to them at the Fort, what was intended, howthey should follow that direction to affright the messengers, andwithout fayle send him such things as he writ for. And an Inventorywith them. The difficultie and danger he told the Salvaves, of theMines, great gunnes, and other Engins, exceedingly affrighted them,yet according to his request they went to James towne in as bitterweather as could be of frost and snow, and within three days returnedwith an answer.

"But when they came to James towne, seeing men sally out as he hadtold them they would, they fled: yet in the night they came again tothe same place where he had told them they should receive an answer,and such things as he had promised them, which they foundaccordingly, and with which they returned with no small expedition,to the wonder of them all that heard it, that he could either divineor the paper could speake. Then they led him to the Youthtanunds,the Mattapanients, the Payankatanks, the Nantaughtacunds andOnawmanients, upon the rivers of Rapahanock and Patawomek, over allthose rivers and backe againe by divers other severall Nations, tothe King's habitation at Pamaunkee, where they entertained him withmost strange and fearefull conjurations;

'As if neare led to hell,
Amongst the Devils to dwell.'

Not long after, early in a morning, a great fire was made in a longhouse, and a mat spread on the one side as on the other; on the onethey caused him to sit, and all the guard went out of the house, andpresently came skipping in a great grim fellow, all painted over withcoale mingled with oyle; and many Snakes and Wesels skins stuffedwith mosse, and all their tayles tyed together, so as they met on thecrowne of his head in a tassell; and round about the tassell was aCoronet of feathers, the skins hanging round about his head, backe,and shoulders, and in a manner covered his face; with a hellish voyceand a rattle in his hand. With most strange gestures and passions hebegan his invocation, and environed the fire with a circle of meale;which done three more such like devils came rushing in with the likeantique tricks, painted halfe blacke, halfe red: but all their eyeswere painted white, and some red stroakes like Mutchato's along theircheekes: round about him those fiends daunced a pretty while, andthen came in three more as ugly as the rest; with red eyes andstroakes over their blacke faces, at last they all sat downe rightagainst him; three of them on the one hand of the chiefe Priest, andthree on the other. Then all with their rattles began a song, whichended, the chiefe Priest layd downe five wheat cornes: then strayninghis arms and hands with such violence that he sweat, and his veynesswelled, he began a short Oration: at the conclusion they all gave ashort groane; and then layd downe three graines more. After thatbegan their song againe, and then another Oration, ever laying downso many cornes as before, til they had twice incirculed the fire;that done they tooke a bunch of little stickes prepared for thatpurpose, continuing still their devotion, and at the end of everysong and Oration they layd downe a sticke betwixt the divisions ofCorne. Til night, neither he nor they did either eate or drinke, andthen they feasted merrily, and with the best provisions they couldmake. Three dayes they used this Ceremony: the meaning whereof theytold him was to know if he intended them well or no. The circle ofmeale signified their Country, the circles of corne the bounds of theSea, and the stickes his Country. They imagined the world to be flatand round, like a trencher, and they in the middest. After this theybrought him a bagge of gunpowder, which they carefully preserved tillthe next spring, to plant as they did their corne, because they wouldbe acquainted with the nature of that seede. Opitchapam, the King'sbrother, invited him to his house, where with many platters of bread,foule, and wild beasts, as did environ him, he bid him wellcome: butnot any of them would eate a bit with him, but put up all theremainder in Baskets. At his returne to Opechancanoughs, all theKing's women and their children flocked about him for their parts, asa due by Custome, to be merry with such fragments.

"But his waking mind in hydeous dreames did oft see wondrous shapes
Of bodies strange, and huge in growth, and of stupendious makes."

At last they brought him to Meronocomoco, where was Powhatan theirEmperor. Here more than two hundred of those grim Courtiers stoodwondering at him, as he had beene a monster, till Powhatan and histrayne had put themselves in their greatest braveries. Before a fireupon a seat like a bedstead, he sat covered with a great robe, madeof Rarowcun skinnes and all the tayles hanging by. On either handdid sit a young wench of sixteen or eighteen years, and along on eachside the house, two rowes of men, and behind them as many women, withall their heads and shoulders painted red; many of their headsbedecked with the white downe of Birds; but everyone with something:and a great chayne of white beads about their necks. At his entrancebefore the King, all the people gave a great shout. The Queene ofAppamatuck was appointed to bring him water to wash his hands, andanother brought him a bunch of feathers, instead of a Towell to drythem: having feasted him after their best barbarous manner theycould. A long consultation was held, but the conclusion was twogreat stones were brought before Powhatan; then as many as could laydhands on him, dragged him to them, and thereon laid his head, andbeing ready with their clubs, to beate out his braines. Pocahontas,the King's dearest daughter, when no entreaty could prevaile, got hishead in her armes, and laid her owne upon his to save him from death:whereat the Emperour was contented he should live to make himhatchets, and her bells, beads, and copper: for they thought him aswell of all occupations as themselves. For the King himselfe willmake his owne robes, shooes, bowes, arrowes, pots, plant, hunt, ordoe any thing so well as the rest.

'They say he bore a pleasant shew,
But sure his heart was sad
For who can pleasant be, and rest,
That lives in feare and dread.
And having life suspected, doth
If still suspected lead.'

Two days after, Powhatan having disguised himselfe in the mostfearfullest manner he could, caused Capt. Smith to be brought forthto a great house in the woods and there upon a mat by the fire to beleft alone. Not long after from behinde a mat that divided thehouse, was made the most dolefullest noyse he ever heard: thenPowhatan more like a devill than a man with some two hundred more asblacke as himseffe, came unto him and told him now they were friends,and presently he should goe to James town, to send him two greatgunnes, and a gryndstone, for which he would give him the country ofCapahowojick, and for ever esteeme him as his sonn Nantaquoud. So toJames towne with 12 guides Powhatan sent him. That night theyquartered in the woods, he still expecting (as he had done all thislong time of his imprisonment) every houre to be put to one death orother; for all their feasting. But almightie God (by his divineprovidence) had mollified the hearts of those sterne Barbarians withcompassion. The next morning betimes they came to the Fort, whereSmith having used the salvages with what kindnesse he could, heshewed Rawhunt, Powhatan's trusty servant, two demiculverings and amillstone to carry Powhatan; they found them somewhat too heavie; butwhen they did see him discharge them, being loaded with stones, amongthe boughs of a great tree loaded with Isickles, the yce and branchescame so tumbling downe, that the poore Salvages ran away halfe deadwith feare. But at last we regained some conference with them andgave them such toys: and sent to Powhatan, his women, and childrensuch presents, and gave them in generall full content. Now in JamesTowne they were all in combustion, the strongest preparing once moreto run away with the Pinnace; which with the hazard of his life, withSakre falcon and musketshot, Smith forced now the third time to stayor sinke. Some no better then they should be had plotted with thePresident, the next day to have put him to death by the Leviticalllaw, for the lives of Robinson and Emry, pretending the fault was histhat had led them to their ends; but he quickly tooke such order withsuch Lawyers, that he layed them by the heeles till he sent some ofthem prisoners for England. Now ever once in four or five dayes,Pocahontas with her attendants, brought him so much provision, thatsaved many of their lives, that els for all this had starved withhunger.

'Thus from numbe death our good God sent reliefe,
The sweete asswager of all other griefe.'

His relation of the plenty he had scene, especially at Werawocomoco,and of the state and bountie of Powhatan (which till that time wasunknowne), so revived their dead spirits (especially the love ofPocahontas) as all men's feare was abandoned."

We should like to think original, in the above, the fine passage, inwhich Smith, by means of a simple compass dial, demonstrated theroundness of the earth, and skies, the sphere of the sun, moon, andstars, and how the sun did chase the night round about the worldcontinually; the greatness of the land and sea, the diversity ofnations, variety of complexions, and how we were to them antipodes,so that the Indians stood amazed with admiration.

Captain Smith up to his middle in a Chickahominy swamp, discoursingon these high themes to a Pamunkey Indian, of whose language Smithwas wholly ignorant, and who did not understand a word of English, ismuch more heroic, considering the adverse circ*mstances, and appealsmore to the imagination, than the long-haired Iopas singing the songof Atlas, at the banquet given to AEneas, where Trojans and Tyriansdrained the flowing bumpers while Dido drank long draughts of love.Did Smith, when he was in the neighborhood of Carthage pick up somesuch literal translations of the song of Atlas' as this:

"He sang the wandering moon, and the labors of the Sun;
>From whence the race of men and flocks; whence rain and lightning;
Of Arcturus, the rainy Hyades, and the twin Triones;
Why the winter suns hasten so much to touch themselves in the ocean,
And what delay retards the slow nights."

The scene of the rescue only occupies seven lines and the readerfeels that, after all, Smith has not done full justice to it. Wecannot, therefore, better conclude this romantic episode than byquoting the description of it given with an elaboration of languagethat must be, pleasing to the shade of Smith, by John Burke in hisHistory of Virginia:

"Two large stones were brought in, and placed at the feet of theemperor; and on them was laid the head of the prisoner; next a largeclub was brought in, with which Powhatan, for whom, out of respect,was reserved this honor, prepared to crush the head of his captive.The assembly looked on with sensations of awe, probably not unmixedwith pity for the fate of an enemy whose bravery had commanded theiradmiration, and in whose misfortunes their hatred was possiblyforgotten.

"The fatal club was uplifted: the breasts of the company alreadyby anticipation felt the dreadful crash, which was to bereave thewretched victim of life: when the young and beautiful Pocahontas, thebeloved daughter of the emperor, with a shriek of terrorand agony threw herself on the body of Smith; Her hair was loose, andher eyes streaming with tears, while her whole manner bespoke thedeep distress and agony of her bosom. She cast a beseechinglook at her furious and astonished father, deprecating his wrath, andimploring his pity and the life of his prisoner, with all theeloquence of mute but impassioned sorrow.

"The remainder of this scene is honorable to Powhatan. It willremain a lasting monument, that tho' different principles of action,and the influence of custom, have given to the manners and opinionsof this people an appearance neither amiable nor virtuous, they stillretain the noblest property of human character, the touch of pity andthe feeling of humanity.

"The club of the emperor was still uplifted; but pity had touched hisbosom, and his eye was every moment losing its fierceness; he lookedaround to collect his fortitude, or perhaps to find an excuse for hisweakness in the faces of his attendants. But every eye was suffusedwith the sweetly contagious softness. The generous savage no longerhesitated. The compassion of the rude state is neither ostentatiousnor dilating: nor does it insult its object by the exaction ofimpossible conditions. Powhatan lifted his grateful and delighteddaughter, and the captive, scarcely yet assured of safety, from theearth…."

"The character of this interesting woman, as it stands in theconcurrent accounts of all our historians, is not, it is withconfidence affirmed, surpassed by any in the whole range of history;and for those qualities more especially which do honor to our nature--an humane and feeling heart, an ardor and unshaken constancy in herattachments—she stands almost without a rival.

"At the first appearance of the Europeans her young heart wasimpressed with admiration of the persons and manners of thestrangers; but it is not during their prosperity that she displaysher attachment. She is not influenced by awe of their greatness, orfear of their resentment, in the assistance she affords them. It wasduring their severest distresses, when their most celebrated chiefwas a captive in their hands, and was dragged through the country asa spectacle for the sport and derision of their people, that sheplaces herself between him and destruction.

"The spectacle of Pocahontas in an attitude of entreaty, with herhair loose, and her eyes streaming with tears, supplicating with herenraged father for the life of Captain Smith when he was about tocrush the head of his prostrate victim with a club, is a situationequal to the genius of Raphael. And when the royal savage directshis ferocious glance for a moment from his victim to reprove hisweeping daughter, when softened by her distress his eye loses itsfierceness, and he gives his captive to her tears, the painter willdiscover a new occasion for exercising his talents."

The painters have availed themselves of this opportunity. In onepicture Smith is represented stiffly extended on the greensward (ofthe woods), his head resting on a stone, appropriately clothed in adresscoat, knee-breeches, and silk stockings; while Powhatan and theother savages stand ready for murder, in full-dress parade costume;and Pocahontas, a full-grown woman, with long, disheveled hair, inthe sentimental dress and attitude of a Letitia E. Landon of theperiod, is about to cast herself upon the imperiled and well-dressedCaptain.

Must we, then, give up the legend altogether, on account of theexaggerations that have grown up about it, our suspicion of thecreative memory of Smith, and the lack of all contemporary allusionto it? It is a pity to destroy any pleasing story of the past, andespecially to discharge our hard struggle for a foothold on thiscontinent of the few elements of romance. If we can find no evidenceof its truth that stands the test of fair criticism, we may at leastbelieve that it had some slight basis on which to rest. It is not atall improbable that Pocahontas, who was at that time a precociousmaid of perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age (although Smithmentions her as a child of ten years old when she came to the campafter his release), was touched with compassion for the captive, anddid influence her father to treat him kindly.

IX

SMITH'S WAY WITH THE INDIANS

As we are not endeavoring to write the early history of Virginia, butonly to trace Smith's share in it, we proceed with his exploits afterthe arrival of the first supply, consisting of near a hundred men, intwo ships, one commanded by Captain Newport and the other by CaptainFrancis Nelson. The latter, when in sight of Cape Henry, was drivenby a storm back to the West Indies, and did not arrive at James Riverwith his vessel, the Phoenix, till after the departure of Newport forEngland with his load of "golddust," and Master Wingfield and CaptainArthur.

In his "True Relation," Smith gives some account of his explorationof the Pamunkey River, which he sometimes calls the "Youghtamand,"upon which, where the water is salt, is the town of Werowocomoco. Itcan serve no purpose in elucidating the character of our hero toattempt to identify all the places he visited.

It was at Werowocomoco that Smith observed certain conjurations ofthe medicine men, which he supposed had reference to his fate. Fromten o'clock in the morning till six at night, seven of the savages,with rattles in their hands, sang and danced about the fire, layingdown grains of corn in circles, and with vehement actions, castingcakes of deer suet, deer, and tobacco into the fire, howling withoutceasing. One of them was "disfigured with a great skin, his headhung around with little skins of weasels and other vermin, with acrownlet of feathers on his head, painted as ugly as the devil." Sofat they fed him that he much doubted they intended to sacrifice himto the Quiyoughquosicke, which is a superior power they worship: amore uglier thing cannot be described. These savages buried theirdead with great sorrow and weeping, and they acknowledge noresurrection. Tobacco they offer to the water to secure a goodpassage in foul weather. The descent of the crown is to the firstheirs of the king's sisters, "for the kings have as many women asthey will, the subjects two, and most but one."

After Smith's return, as we have read, he was saved from a plot totake his life by the timely arrival of Captain Newport. Somewhereabout this time the great fire occurred. Smith was now one of theCouncil; Martin and Matthew Scrivener, just named, were alsocouncilors. Ratcliffe was still President. The savages, owing totheir acquaintance with and confidence in Captain Smith, sent inabundance of provision. Powhatan sent once or twice a week "deer,bread, raugroughcuns (probably not to be confounded with therahaughcuns [raccoons] spoken of before, but probably 'rawcomens,'mentioned in the Description of Virginia), half for Smiith, and halffor his father, Captain Newport." Smith had, in his intercourse withthe natives, extolled the greatness of Newport, so that theyconceived him to be the chief and all the rest his children, andregarded him as an oracle, if not a god.

Powhatan and the rest had, therefore, a great desire to see thismighty person. Smith says that the President and Council greatlyenvied his reputation with the Indians, and wrought upon them tobelieve, by giving in trade four times as much as the price set bySmith, that their authority exceeded his as much as their bounty.

We must give Smith the credit of being usually intent upon thebuilding up of the colony, and establishing permanent and livablerelations with the Indians, while many of his companions in authorityseemed to regard the adventure as a temporary occurrence, out ofwhich they would make what personal profit they could. The new-comers on a vessel always demoralized the trade with the Indians, bypaying extravagant prices. Smith's relations with Captain Newportwere peculiar. While he magnified him to the Indians as the greatpower, he does not conceal his own opinion of his ostentation andwant of shrewdness. Smith's attitude was that of a priest who putsup for the worship of the vulgar an idol, which he knows is only aclay image stuffed with straw.

In the great joy of the colony at the arrival of the first supply,leave was given to sailors to trade with the Indians, and the new-comers soon so raised prices that it needed a pound of copper to buya quantity of provisions that before had been obtained for an ounce.Newport sent great presents to Powhatan, and, in response to the wishof the "Emperor," prepared to visit him. "A great coyle there was toset him forward," says Smith. Mr. Scrivener and Captain Smith, and aguard of thirty or forty, accompanied him. On this expedition theyfound the mouth of the Pamaunck (now York) River. Arriving atWerowocomoco, Newport, fearing treachery, sent Smith with twenty mento land and make a preliminary visit. When they came ashore theyfound a network of creeks which were crossed by very shaky bridges,constructed of crotched sticks and poles, which had so much theappearance of traps that Smith would not cross them until many of theIndians had preceded him, while he kept others with him as hostages.Three hundred savages conducted him to Powhatan, who received him ingreat state. Before his house were ranged forty or fifty greatplatters of fine bread. Entering his house, "with loude tunes theymade all signs of great joy." In the first account Powhatan isrepresented as surrounded by his principal women and chief men, "asupon a throne at the upper end of the house, with such majesty as Icannot express, nor yet have often seen, either in Pagan orChristian." In the later account he is "sitting upon his bed ofmats, his pillow of leather embroidered (after their rude manner withpearls and white beads), his attire a fair robe of skins as large asan Irish mantel; at his head and feet a handsome young woman; on eachside of his house sat twenty of his concubines, their heads andshoulders painted red, with a great chain of white beads about eachof their necks. Before those sat his chiefest men in like order inhis arbor-like house." This is the scene that figures in the oldcopper-plate engravings. The Emperor welcomed Smith with a kindcountenance, caused him to sit beside him, and with pretty discoursethey renewed their old acquaintance. Smith presented him with a suitof red cloth, a white greyhound, and a hat. The Queen of Apamatuc, acomely young savage, brought him water, a turkeyco*ck, and bread toeat. Powhatan professed great content with Smith, but desired to seehis father, Captain Newport. He inquired also with a merrycountenance after the piece of ordnance that Smith had promised tosend him, and Smith, with equal jocularity, replied that he hadoffered the men four demi-culverins, which they found too heavy tocarry. This night they quartered with Powhatan, and were liberallyfeasted, and entertained with singing, dancing, and orations.

The next day Captain Newport came ashore. The two monarchs exchangedpresents. Newport gave Powhatan a white boy thirteen years old,named Thomas Savage. This boy remained with the Indians and servedthe colony many years as an interpreter. Powhatan gave Newport inreturn a bag of beans and an Indian named Namontack for his servant.Three or four days they remained, feasting, dancing, and trading withthe Indians.

In trade the wily savage was more than a match for Newport. Heaffected great dignity; it was unworthy such great werowances todicker; it was not agreeable to his greatness in a peddling manner totrade for trifles; let the great Newport lay down his commodities alltogether, and Powhatan would take what he wished, and recompense himwith a proper return. Smith, who knew the Indians and theirostentation, told Newport that the intention was to cheat him, buthis interference was resented. The result justified Smith'ssuspicion. Newport received but four bushels of corn when he shouldhave had twenty hogsheads. Smith then tried his hand at a trade.With a few blue beads, which he represented as of a rare substance,the color of the skies, and worn by the greatest kings in the world,he so inflamed the desire of Powhatan that he was half mad to possesssuch strange jewels, and gave for them 200 to 300 bushels of corn,"and yet," says Smith, "parted good friends."

At this time Powhatan, knowing that they desired to invade or exploreMonacan, the country above the Falls, proposed an expedition, withmen and boats, and "this faire tale had almost made Captain Newportundertake by this means to discover the South Sea," a project whichthe adventurers had always in mind. On this expedition theysojourned also with the King of Pamaunke.

Captain Newport returned to England on the 10th of April. Mr.Scrivener and Captain Smith were now in fact the sustainers of thecolony. They made short expeditions of exploration. Powhatan andother chiefs still professed friendship and sent presents, but theIndians grew more and more offensive, lurking about and stealing allthey could lay hands on. Several of them were caught and confined inthe fort, and, guarded, were conducted to the morning and eveningprayers. By threats and slight torture, the captives were made toconfess the hostile intentions of Powhatan and the other chiefs,which was to steal their weapons and then overpower the colony.Rigorous measures were needed to keep the Indians in check, but thecommand from England not to offend the savages was so strict thatSmith dared not chastise them as they deserved. The history of thecolony all this spring of 1608 is one of labor and discontent, ofconstant annoyance from the Indians, and expectations of attacks. Onthe 20th of April, while they were hewing trees and setting corn, analarm was given which sent them all to their arms. Fright was turnedinto joy by the sight of the Phoenix, with Captain Nelson and hiscompany, who had been for three months detained in the West Indies,and given up for lost.

Being thus re-enforced, Smith and Scrivener desired to explore thecountry above the Falls, and got ready an expedition. But this,Martin, who was only intent upon loading the return ship with "hisphantastical gold," opposed, and Nelson did not think he hadauthority to allow it, unless they would bind themselves to pay thehire of the ships. The project was therefore abandoned. The Indianscontinued their depredations. Messages daily passed between the fortand the Indians, and treachery was always expected. About this timethe boy Thomas Savage was returned, with his chest and clothing.

The colony had now several of the Indians detained in the fort. Atthis point in the "True Relation " occurs the first mention ofPocahontas. Smith says: "Powhatan, understanding we detained certainSalvages, sent his daughter, a child of tenne years old, which notonly for feature, countenance, and proportion much exceeded any ofhis people, but for wit and spirit, the only nonpareil of hiscountry.' She was accompanied by his trusty messenger Rawhunt, acrafty and deformed savage, who assured Smith how much Powhatan lovedand respected him and, that he should not doubt his kindness, had senhis child, whom he most esteemed, to see him, and a deer, and breadbesides for a present; "desiring us that the boy might come again,which he loved exceedingly, his little daughter he had taught thislesson also: not taking notice at all of the Indians that had beenprisoners three days, till that morning that she saw their fathersand friends come quietly and in good terms to entreat their liberty."

Opechancanough (the King of "Pamauk") also sent asking the release oftwo that were his friends; and others, apparently with confidence inthe whites, came begging for the release of the prisoners. "In theafternoon they being gone, we guarded them [the prisoners] as beforeto the church, and after prayer gave them to Pocahuntas, the King'sdaughter, in regard to her father's kindness in sending her: afterhaving well fed them, as all the time of their imprisonment, we gavethem their bows, arrows, or what else they had, and with much contentsent them packing; Pocahuntas, also, we requited with such trifles ascontented her, to tell that we had used the Paspaheyans very kindlyin so releasing them."

This account would show that Pocahontas was a child of uncommondignity and self-control for her age. In his letter to Queen Anne,written in 1616, he speaks of her as aged twelve or thirteen at thetime of his captivity, several months before this visit to the fort.

The colonists still had reasons to fear ambuscades from the savageslurking about in the woods. One day a Paspahean came with aglittering mineral stone, and said he could show them great abundanceof it. Smith went to look for this mine, but was led about hitherand thither in the woods till he lost his patience and was convincedthat the Indian was fooling him, when he gave him twenty lashes witha rope, handed him his bows and arrows, told him to shoot if hedared, and let him go. Smith had a prompt way with the Indians. Healways traded "squarely" with them, kept his promises, and neverhesitated to attack or punish them when they deserved it. Theyfeared and respected him.

The colony was now in fair condition, in good health, and contented;and it was believed, though the belief was not well founded, thatthey would have lasting peace with the Indians. Captain Nelson'sship, the Phoenix, was freighted with cedar wood, and was despatchedfor England June 8, 1608. Captain Martin, "always sickly andunserviceable, and desirous to enjoy the credit of his supposed artof finding the gold mine," took passage. Captain Nelson probablycarried Smith's "True Relation."

X

DISCOVERY OF THE CHESAPEAKE

On the same, day that Nelson sailed for England, Smith set out toexplore the Chesapeake, accompanying the Phoenix as far as CapeHenry, in a barge of about three tons. With him went Dr. WalterRussell, six gentlemen, and seven soldiers. The narrative of thevoyage is signed by Dr. Russell, Thomas Momford, gentleman, and AnasTodkill, soldier. Master Scrivener remained at the fort, where hispresence was needed to keep in check the prodigal waste of the storesupon his parasites by President Ratcliffe.

The expedition crossed the bay at "Smith's Isles," named after theCaptain, touched at Cape Charles, and coasted along the easternshore. Two stout savages hailed them from Cape Charles, and directedthem to Accomack, whose king proved to be the most comely and civilsavage they had yet encountered.

He told them of a strange accident that had happened. The parents oftwo children who had died were moved by some phantasy to revisittheir dead carcasses, "whose benumbed bodies reflected to the eyes ofthe beholders such delightful countenances as though they hadregained their vital spirits." This miracle drew a great part of theKing's people to behold them, nearly all of whom died shortlyafterward. These people spoke the language of Powhatan. Smithexplored the bays, isles, and islets, searching for harbors andplaces of habitation. He was a born explorer and geographer, as hisremarkable map of Virginia sufficiently testifies. The company wasmuch tossed about in the rough waves of the bay, and had greatdifficulty in procuring drinking-water. They entered theWighcocomoco, on the east side, where the natives first threatenedand then received them with songs, dancing, and mirth. A point onthe mainland where they found a pond of fresh water they named "PoyntPloyer in honer of the most honorable house of Monsay, in Britaine,that in an extreme extremitie once relieved our Captain." Thisreference to the Earl of Ployer, who was kind to Smith in his youth,is only an instance of the care with which he edited these narrativesof his own exploits, which were nominally written by his companions.

The explorers were now assailed with violent storms, and at last tookrefuge for two days on some uninhabited islands, which by reason ofthe ill weather and the hurly-burly of thunder, lightning, wind, andrain, they called "Limbo." Repairing their torn sails with theirshirts, they sailed for the mainland on the east, and ran into ariver called Cuskarawook (perhaps the present Annomessie), where theinhabitants received them with showers of arrows, ascending the treesand shooting at them. The next day a crowd came dancing to theshore, making friendly signs, but Smith, suspecting villainy,discharged his muskets into them. Landing toward evening, theexplorers found many baskets and much blood, but no savages. Thefollowing day, savages to the number, the account wildly says, of twoor three thousand, came to visit them, and were very friendly. Thesetribes Smith calls the Sarapinagh, Nause, Arseek, and Nantaquak, andsays they are the best merchants of that coast. They told him of agreat nation, called the Massawomeks, of whom he set out in search,passing by the Limbo, and coasting the west side of Chesapeake Bay.The people on the east side he describes as of small stature.

They anchored at night at a place called Richard's Cliffs, north ofthe Pawtuxet, and from thence went on till they reached the firstriver navigable for ships, which they named the Bolus, and which byits position on Smith's map may be the Severn or the Patapsco.

The men now, having been kept at the oars ten days, tossed about bystorms, and with nothing to eat but bread rotten from the wet,supposed that the Captain would turn about and go home. But hereminded them how the company of Ralph Lane, in like circ*mstances,importuned him to proceed with the discovery of Moratico, allegingthat they had yet a dog that boiled with sassafrks leaves wouldrichly feed them. He could not think of returning yet, for they werescarce able to say where they had been, nor had yet heard of whatthey were sent to seek. He exhorted them to abandon their childishfear of being lost in these unknown, large waters, but he assuredthem that return he would not, till he had seen the Massawomeks andfound the Patowomek.

On the 16th of June they discovered the River Patowomek (Potomac),seven miles broad at the mouth, up which they sailed thirty milesbefore they encountered any inhabitants. Four savages at lengthappeared and conducted them up a creek where were three or fourthousand in ambush, "so strangely painted, grimed, and disguised,shouting, yelling, and crying as so many spirits from hell could nothave showed more terrible." But the discharge of the firearms andthe echo in the forest so appeased their fury that they threw downtheir bows, exchanged hostages, and kindly used the strangers. TheIndians told him that Powhatan had commanded them to betray them, andthe serious charge is added that Powhatan, "so directed from thediscontents at Jamestown because our Captain did cause them to stayin their country against their wills." This reveals the suspicionand thoroughly bad feeling existing among the colonists.

The expedition went up the river to a village called Patowomek, andthence rowed up a little River Quiyough (Acquia Creek?) in search ofa mountain of antimony, which they found. The savages put thisantimony up in little bags and sold it all over the country to painttheir bodies and faces, which made them look like Blackamoors dustedover with silver. Some bags of this they carried away, and alsocollected a good amount of furs of otters, bears, martens, and minks.Fish were abundant, "lying so thick with their heads above water, asfor want of nets (our barge driving among them) we attempted to catchthem with a frying-pan; but we found it a bad instrument to catchfish with; neither better fish, more plenty, nor more variety forsmall fish, had any of us ever seen in any place, so swimming in thewater, but they are not to be caught with frying-pans."

In all his encounters and quarrels with the treacherous savages Smithlost not a man; it was his habit when he encountered a body of themto demand their bows, arrows, swords, and furs, and a child or two ashostages.

Having finished his discovery he returned. Passing the mouth of theRappahannock, by some called the Tappahannock, where in shoal waterwere many fish lurking in the weeds, Smith had his first experienceof the Stingray. It chanced that the Captain took one of these fishfrom his sword, "not knowing her condition, being much the fashion ofa Thornbeck, but a long tayle like a riding rodde whereon the middestis a most poysonne sting of two or three inches long, bearded like asaw on each side, which she struck into the wrist of his arme nearean inch and a half." The arm and shoulder swelled so much, and thetorment was so great, that "we all with much sorrow concluded hisfunerale, and prepared his grave in an island by, as himselfdirected." But it " pleased God by a precious oyle Dr. Russellapplied to it that his tormenting paine was so assuged that he ate ofthat fish to his supper."

Setting sail for Jamestown, and arriving at Kecoughtan, the sight ofthe furs and other plunder, and of Captain Smith wounded, led theIndians to think that he had been at war with the Massawomeks; whichopinion Smith encouraged. They reached Jamestown July 21st, in finespirits, to find the colony in a mutinous condition, the lastarrivals all sick, and the others on the point of revengingthemselves on the silly President, who had brought them all to miseryby his riotous consumption of the stores, and by forcing them to workon an unnecessary pleasure-house for himself in the woods. They weresomewhat appeased by the good news of the discovery, and in thebelief that their bay stretched into the South Sea; and submitted oncondition that Ratclifte should be deposed and Captain Smith takeupon himself the government, "as by course it did belong." Heconsented, but substituted Mr. Scrivener, his dear friend, in thepresidency, distributed the provisions, appointed honest men toassist Mr. Scrivener, and set out on the 24th, with twelve men, tofinish his discovery.

He passed by the Patowomek River and hasted to the River Bolus, whichhe had before visited. Pn the bay they fell in with seven or eightcanoes full of the renowned Massawomeks, with whom they had a fight,but at length these savages became friendly and gave them bows,arrows, and skins. They were at war with the Tockwoghes. Proceedingup the River Tockwogh, the latter Indians received them withfriendship, because they had the weapons which they supposed had beencaptured in a fight with the Massawomeks. These Indians hadhatchets, knives, pieces of iron and brass, they reported came fromthe Susquesahanocks, a mighty people, the enemies of the Massawomeks,living at the head of the bay. As Smith in his barge could notascend to them, he sent an interpreter to request a visit from them.In three or four days sixty of these giant-like people came down withpresents of venison, tobacco-pipes three feet in length, baskets,targets, and bows and arrows. Some further notice is necessary ofthis first appearance of the Susquehannocks, who became afterwards sowell known, by reason of their great stature and their friendliness.Portraits of these noble savages appeared in De Bry's voyages, whichwere used in Smith's map, and also by Strachey. These beautifulcopperplate engravings spread through Europe most exaggerated ideasof the American savages.

"Our order," says Smith, "was daily to have prayers, with a psalm, atwhich solemnity the poor savages wondered." When it was over theSusquesahanocks, in a fervent manner, held up their hands to the sun,and then embracing the Captain, adored him in like manner. With afurious manner and "a hellish voyce " they began an oration of theirloves, covered him with their painted bear-skins, hung a chain ofwhite beads about his neck, and hailed his creation as their governorand protector, promising aid and victuals if he would stay and helpthem fight the Massawomeks. Much they told him of the Atquanachuks,who live on the Ocean Sea, the Massawomeks and other people living ona great water beyond the mountain (which Smith understood to be somegreat lake or the river of Canada), and that they received theirhatchets and other commodities from the French. They moumed greatlyat Smith's departure. Of Powhatan they knew nothing but the name.

Strachey, who probably enlarges from Smith his account of the samepeople, whom he calls Sasquesahanougs, says they were well-proportioned giants, but of an honest and simple disposition. Theirlanguage well beseemed their proportions, "sounding from them as itwere a great voice in a vault or cave, as an ecco." The picture ofone of these chiefs is given in De Bry,and described by Strachey,"the calf of whose leg was three-quarters of a yard about, and all therest of his limbs so answerable to the same proportions that heseemed the goodliest man they ever saw."

It would not entertain the reader to follow Smith in all the smalladventures of the exploration, during which he says he went about3,000 miles (three thousand miles in three or four weeks in a row-boat is nothing in Smith's memory), "with such watery diet in thesegreat waters and barbarous countries." Much hardship he endured,alternately skirmishing and feasting with the Indians; many were thetribes he struck an alliance with, and many valuable details he addedto the geographical knowledge of the region. In all this explorationSmith showed himself skillful as he was vigorous and adventurous.

He returned to James River September 7th. Many had died, some weresick, Ratcliffe, the late President, was a prisoner for mutiny,Master Scrivener had diligently gathered the harvest, but much of theprovisions had been spoiled by rain. Thus the summer was consumed,and nothing had been accomplished except Smith's discovery.

XI

SMITH'S PRESIDENCY AND PROWESS

On the 10th of September, by the election of the Council and therequest of the company, Captain Smith received the letters-patent,and became President. He stopped the building of Ratcliffe's"palace," repaired the church and the storehouse, got ready thebuildings for the supply expected from England, reduced the fort to a"five square form," set and trained the watch and exercised thecompany every Saturday on a plain called Smithfield, to the amazementof the on-looking Indians.

Captain Newport arrived with a new supply of seventy persons. Amongthem were Captain Francis West, brother to Lord Delaware, CaptainPeter Winne, and Captain Peter Waldo, appointed on the Council, eightDutchmen and Poles, and Mistress Forest and Anne Burrows her maid,the first white women in the colony.

Smith did not relish the arrival of Captain Newport nor theinstructions under which he returned. He came back commanded todiscover the country of Monacan (above the Falls) and to perform theceremony of coronation on the Emperor Powhatan.

How Newport got this private commission when he had returned toEngland without a lump of gold, nor any certainty of the South Sea,or one of the lost company sent out by Raleigh; and why he brought a"fine peeced barge" which must be carried over unknown mountainsbefore it reached the South Sea, he could not understand. " As forthe coronation of Powhatan and his presents of basin and ewer, bed,bedding, clothes, and such costly novelties, they had been muchbetter well spared than so ill spent, for we had his favor and betterfor a plain piece of copper, till this stately kind of solicitingmade him so much overvalue himself that he respected us as much asnothing at all." Smith evidently understood the situation muchbetter than the promoters in England; and we can quite excuse him inhis rage over the foolishness and greed of most of his companions.There was little nonsense about Smith in action, though he need notturn his hand on any man of that age as a boaster.

To send out Poles and Dutchmen to make pitch, tar, and glass wouldhave been well enough if the colony had been firmly established andsupplied with necessaries; and they might have sent two hundredcolonists instead of seventy, if they had ordered them to go to workcollecting provisions of the Indians for the winter, instead ofattempting this strange discovery of the South Sea, and wasting theirtime on a more strange coronation. "Now was there no way," asksSmith, "to make us miserable," but by direction from England toperform this discovery and coronation, "to take that time, spend whatvictuals we had, tire and starve our men, having no means to carryvictuals, ammunition, the hurt or the sick, but on their own backs?"

Smith seems to have protested against all this nonsense, but thoughhe was governor, the Council overruled him. Captain Newport decidedto take one hundred and twenty men, fearing to go with a less numberand journey to Werowocomoco to crown Powhatan. In order to save timeSmith offered to take a message to Powhatan, and induce him to cometo Jamestown and receive the honor and the presents. Accompanied byonly four men he crossed by land to Werowocomoco, passed thePamaunkee (York) River in a canoe, and sent for Powhatan, who wasthirty miles off. Meantime Pocahontas, who by his own account was amere child, and her women entertained Smith in the following manner:

"In a fayre plaine they made a fire, before which, sitting upon amat, suddenly amongst the woods was heard such a hydeous noise andshreeking that the English betook themselves to their armes, andseized upon two or three old men, by them supposing Powhatan with allhis power was come to surprise them. But presently Pocahontas came,willing him to kill her if any hurt were intended, and the beholders,which were men, women and children, satisfied the Captaine that therewas no such matter. Then presently they were presented with thisanticke: Thirty young women came naked out of the woods, only coveredbehind and before with a few greene leaves, their bodies all painted,some of one color, some of another, but all differing; their leaderhad a fayre payre of Bucks hornes on her head, and an Otters skinneat her girdle, and another at her arme, a quiver of arrows at herbacke, a bow and arrows in her hand; the next had in her hand asword, another a club, another a pot-sticke: all horned alike; therest every one with their several devises. These fiends with mosthellish shouts and cries, rushing from among the trees, castthemselves in a ring about the fire, singing and dancing with mostexcellent ill-varietie, oft falling into their infernal passions, andsolemnly again to sing and dance; having spent nearly an hour in thisMascarado, as they entered,in like manner they departed.

"Having reaccommodated themselves, they solemnly invited him to theirlodgings, where he was no sooner within the house, but all theseNymphs more tormented him than ever, with crowding, pressing, andhanging about him, most tediously crying, 'Love you not me? Love younot me?' This salutation ended, the feast was set, consisting of allthe Salvage dainties they could devise: some attending, otherssinging and dancing about them: which mirth being ended, with firebrands instead of torches they conducted him to his lodging."

The next day Powhatan arrived. Smith delivered up the IndianNamontuck, who had just returned from a voyage to England—whither itwas suspected the Emperor wished him to go to spy out the weakness ofthe English tribe—and repeated Father Newport's request thatPowhatan would come to Jamestown to receive the presents and join inan expedition against his enemies, the Monacans.

Powhatan's reply was worthy of his imperial highness, and has beencopied ever since in the speeches of the lords of the soil to thepale faces: "If your king has sent me present, I also am a king, andthis is my land: eight days I will stay to receive them. Your fatheris to come to me, not I to him, nor yet to your fort, neither will Ibite at such a bait; as for the Monacans, I can revenge my owninjuries."

This was the lofty potentate whom Smith, by his way of management,could have tickled out of his senses with a glass bead, and who wouldinfinitely have preferred a big shining copper kettle to themisplaced honor intended to be thrust upon him, but the offer ofwhich puffed him up beyond the reach of negotiation. Smith returnedwith his message. Newport despatched the presents round by water ahundred miles, and the Captains, with fifty soldiers, went over landto Werowocomoco, where occurred the ridiculous ceremony of thecoronation, which Smith describes with much humor. "The next day,"he says, "was appointed for the coronation. Then the presents werebrought him, his bason and ewer, bed and furniture set up, hisscarlet cloke and apparel, with much adoe put on him, being persuadedby Namontuck they would not hurt him. But a foule trouble there wasto make him kneel to receive his Crown; he not knowing the majestynor wearing of a Crown, nor bending of the knee, endured so manypersuasions, examples and instructions as tyred them all. At last bybearing hard on his shoulders, he a little stooped, and three havingthe crown in their hands put it on his head, when by the warning of apistoll the boats were prepared with such a volley of shot that theking start up in a horrible feare, till he saw all was well. Thenremembering himself to congratulate their kindness he gave his oldshoes and his mantell to Captain Newport!"

The Monacan expedition the King discouraged, and refused to furnishfor it either guides or men. Besides his old shoes, the crownedmonarch charitably gave Newport a little heap of corn, only seven oreight bushels, and with this little result the absurd expeditionreturned to Jamestown.

Shortly after Captain Newport with a chosen company of one hundredand twenty men (leaving eighty with President Smith in the fort) andaccompanied by Captain Waldo, Lieutenant Percy, Captain Winne, Mr.West, and Mr. Scrivener, who was eager for adventure, set off for thediscovery of Monacan. The expedition, as Smith predicted, wasfruitless: the Indians deceived them and refused to trade, and thecompany got back to Jamestown, half of them sick, all grumbling, andworn out with toil, famine, and discontent.

Smith at once set the whole colony to work, some to make glass, tar,pitch, and soap-ashes, and others he conducted five miles down theriver to learn to fell trees and make clapboards. In this companywere a couple of gallants, lately come over, Gabriel Beadle and JohnRussell, proper gentlemen, but unused to hardships, whom Smith hasimmortalized by his novel cure of their profanity. They took gaylyto the rough life, and entered into the attack on the forest sopleasantly that in a week they were masters of chopping: "making ittheir delight to hear the trees thunder as they fell, but the axes sooften blistered their tender fingers that many times every third blowhad a loud othe to drown the echo; for remedie of which sinne thePresident devised how to have every man's othes numbered, and atnight for every othe to have a Canne of water powred downe hissleeve, with which every offender was so washed (himself and all),that a man would scarce hear an othe in a weake." In the clearing ofour country since, this excellent plan has fallen into desuetude, forwant of any pious Captain Smith in the logging camps.

These gentlemen, says Smith, did not spend their time in wood-logginglike hirelings, but entered into it with such spirit that thirty ofthem would accomplish more than a hundred of the sort that had to bedriven to work; yet, he sagaciously adds, "twenty good workmen hadbeen better than them all."

Returning to the fort, Smith, as usual, found the time consumed andno provisions got, and Newport's ship lying idle at a great charge.With Percy he set out on an expedition for corn to the Chickahominy,which the insolent Indians, knowing their want, would not supply.Perceiving that it was Powhatan's policy to starve them (as if it wasthe business of the Indians to support all the European vagabonds andadventurers who came to dispossess them of their country), Smith gaveout that he came not so much for corn as to revenge his imprisonmentand the death of his men murdered by the Indians, and proceeded tomake war. This high-handed treatment made the savages sue for peace,and furnish, although they complained of want themselves, owing to abad harvest, a hundred bushels of corn.

This supply contented the company, who feared nothing so much asstarving, and yet, says Smith, so envied him that they would ratherhazard starving than have him get reputation by his vigorous conduct.There is no contemporary account of that period except this whichSmith indited. He says that Newport and Ratcliffe conspired not onlyto depose him but to keep him out of the fort; since being Presidentthey could not control his movements, but that their horns were muchtoo short to effect it.

At this time in the "old Taverne," as Smith calls the fort, everybodywho had money or goods made all he could by trade; soldiers, sailors,and savages were agreed to barter, and there was more care tomaintain their damnable and private trade than to provide the thingsnecessary for the colony. In a few weeks the whites had barteredaway nearly all the axes, chisels, hoes, and picks, and what powder,shot, and pikeheads they could steal, in exchange for furs, baskets,young beasts and such like commodities. Though the supply of furswas scanty in Virginia, one master confessed he had got in one voyageby this private trade what he sold in England for thirty pounds."These are the Saint-seeming Worthies of Virginia," indignantlyexclaims the President, "that have, notwithstanding all this, meate,drinke, and wages." But now they began to get weary of the country,their trade being prevented. "The loss, scorn, and misery was thepoor officers, gentlemen and careless governors, who were bought andsold." The adventurers were cheated, and all their actionsoverthrown by false information and unwise directions.

Master Scrivener was sent with the barges and pinnace toWerowocomoco, where by the aid of Namontuck he procured a littlecorn, though the savages were more ready to fight than to trade. Atlength Newport's ship was loaded with clapboards, pitch, tar, glass,frankincense (?) and soapashes, and despatched to England. About twohundred men were left in the colony. With Newport, Smith sent hisfamous letter to the Treasurer and Council in England. It is so gooda specimen of Smith's ability with the pen, reveals so well hissagacity and knowledge of what a colony needed, and exposes soclearly the ill-management of the London promoters, and the conditionof the colony, that we copy it entire. It appears by this letterthat Smith's " Map of Virginia," and his description of the countryand its people, which were not published till 1612, were sent by thisopportunity. Captain Newport sailed for England late in the autumnof 1608. The letter reads:

RIGHT HONORABLE, ETC.:

I received your letter wherein you write that our minds are so setupon faction, and idle conceits in dividing the country without yourconsents, and that we feed you but with ifs and ands, hopes and somefew proofes; as if we would keepe the mystery of the businesse toourselves: and that we must expressly follow your instructions sentby Captain Newport: the charge of whose voyage amounts to neare twothousand pounds, the which if we cannot defray by the ships returnewe are likely to remain as banished men. To these particulars Ihumbly intreat your pardons if I offend you with my rude answer.

For our factions, unless you would have me run away and leave thecountry, I cannot prevent them; because I do make many stay thatwould else fly away whither. For the Idle letter sent to my Lord ofSalisbury, by the President and his confederates, for dividing thecountry, &c., what it was I know not, for you saw no hand of mine toit; nor ever dream't I of any such matter. That we feed you withhopes, &c. Though I be no scholar, I am past a schoolboy; and Idesire but to know what either you and these here doe know, but thatI have learned to tell you by the continuall hazard of my life. Ihave not concealed from you anything I know; but I feare some causeyou to believe much more than is true.

Expressly to follow your directions by Captain Newport, though theybe performed, I was directly against it; but according to ourcommission, I was content to be overouled by the major part of theCouncill, I feare to the hazard of us all; which now is generallyconfessed when it is too late. Onely Captaine Winne and CaptaineWalclo I have sworne of the Councill, and crowned Powhattan accordingto your instructions.

For the charge of the voyage of two or three thousand pounds we havenot received the value of one hundred pounds, and for the quarteredboat to be borne by the souldiers over the falls. Newport had 120 ofthe best men he could chuse. If he had burnt her to ashes, one mighthave carried her in a bag, but as she is, five hundred cannot to anavigable place above the falls. And for him at that time to find inthe South Sea a mine of gold; or any of them sent by Sir WalterRaleigh; at our consultation I told them was as likely as the rest.But during this great discovery of thirtie miles (which might as wellhave been done by one man, and much more, for the value of a pound ofcopper at a seasonable tyme), they had the pinnace and all the boatswith them but one that remained with me to serve the fort. In theirabsence I followed the new begun works of Pitch and Tarre, Glasse,Sope-ashes, Clapboord, whereof some small quantities we have sentyou. But if you rightly consider what an infinite toyle it is inRussia and Swethland, where the woods are proper for naught els, andthough there be the helpe both of man and beast in those ancientcommonwealths, which many an hundred years have used it, yetthousands of those poor people can scarce get necessaries to live,but from hand to mouth, and though your factors there can buy as muchin a week as will fraught you a ship, or as much as you please, youmust not expect from us any such matter, which are but as many ofignorant, miserable soules, that are scarce able to get wherewith tolive, and defend ourselves against the inconstant Salvages: findingbut here and there a tree fit for the purpose, and want all thingselse the Russians have. For the Coronation of Powhattan, by whoseadvice you sent him such presents, I know not; but this give me leaveto tell you, I feare they will be the confusion of us all ere weheare from you again. At your ships arrivall, the Salvages harvestwas newly gathered, and we going to buy it, our owne not being halvesufficient for so great a number. As for the two ships loading ofcorne Newport promised to provide us from Powhattan, he brought usbut fourteen bushels; and from the Monacans nothing, but the most ofthe men sicke and neare famished. From your ship we had notprovision in victuals worth twenty pound, and we are more than twohundred to live upon this, the one halfe sicke, the other littlebetter. For the saylers (I confesse), they daily make good cheare,but our dyet is a little meale and water, and not sufficient of that.Though there be fish in the Sea, fowles in the ayre, and beasts inthe woods, their bounds are so large, they so wilde, and we so weakeand ignorant, we cannot much trouble them. Captaine Newport we muchsuspect to be the Author of these inventions. Now that you shouldknow, I have made you as great a discovery as he, for less chargethan he spendeth you every meale; I had sent you this mappe of theCountries and Nations that inhabit them, as you may see at large.Also two barrels of stones, and such as I take to be good. Iron oreat the least; so divided, as by their notes you may see in whatplaces I found them. The souldiers say many of your officersmaintaine their families out of that you sent us, and that Newporthath an hundred pounds a year for carrying newes. For every masteryou have yet sent can find the way as well as he, so that an hundredpounds might be spared, which is more than we have all, that helps topay him wages. Cap. Ratliffe is now called Sicklemore, a poorecounterfeited Imposture. I have sent you him home least the Companyshould cut his throat. What he is, now every one can tell you: if heand Archer returne againe, they are sufficient to keep us always infactions. When you send againe I entreat you rather send but thirtycarpenters, husbandmen, gardiners, fishermen, blacksmiths, masons,and diggers up of trees roots, well provided, then a thousand of suchas we have; for except wee be able both to lodge them, and feed them,the most will consume with want of necessaries before they can bemade good for anything. Thus if you please to consider this account,and the unnecessary wages to Captaine Newport, or his ships so longlingering and staying here (for notwithstanding his boasting to leaveus victuals for 12 months, though we had 89 by this discovery lameand sicke, and but a pinte of corne a day for a man, we wereconstrained to give him three hogsheads of that to victuall himhomeward), or yet to send into Germany or Poleland for glassem*n andthe rest, till we be able to sustaine ourselves, and releeve themwhen they come. It were better to give five hundred pound a ton forthose grosse Commodities in Denmarke, then send for them hither, tillmore necessary things be provided. For in over-toyling our weake andunskilfull bodies, to satisfy this desire of present profit, we canscarce ever recover ourselves from one supply to another. And Ihumbly intreat you hereafter, let us have what we should receive, andnot stand to the Saylers courtesie to leave us what they please, elsyou may charge us what you will, but we not you with anything. Theseare the causes that have kept us in Virginia from laying such afoundation that ere this might have given much better content andsatisfaction, but as yet you must not look for any profitablereturning. So I humbly rest.

After the departure of Newport, Smith, with his accustomedresolution, set to work to gather supplies for the winter. Corn hadto be extorted from the Indians by force. In one expedition toNansemond, when the Indians refused to trade, Smith fired upon them,and then landed and burned one of their houses; whereupon theysubmitted and loaded his three boats with corn. The ground wascovered with ice and snow, and the nights were bitterly cold. Thedevice for sleeping warm in the open air was to sweep the snow awayfrom the ground and build a fire; the fire was then raked off fromthe heated earth and a mat spread, upon which the whites lay warm,sheltered by a mat hung up on the windward side, until the ground gotcold, when they builded a fire on another place. Many a cold winternight did the explorers endure this hardship, yet grew fat and lustyunder it.

About this time was solemnized the marriage of John Laydon and AnneBurrows, the first in Virginia. Anne was the maid of MistressForrest, who had just come out to grow up with the country, and Johnwas a laborer who came with the first colony in 1607. This wasactually the "First Family of Virginia," about which so much has beeneloquently said.

Provisions were still wanting. Mr. Scrivener and Mr. Percy returnedfrom an expedition with nothing. Smith proposed to surprisePowhatan, and seize his store of corn, but he says he was hindered inthis project by Captain Winne and Mr. Scrivener (who had heretoforebeen considered one of Smith's friends), whom he now suspected ofplotting his ruin in England.

Powhatan on his part sent word to Smith to visit him, to send him mento build a house, give him a grindstone, fifty swords, some big guns,a co*ck and a hen, much copper and beads, in return for which hewould load his ship with corn. Without any confidence in the craftysavage, Smith humored him by sending several workmen, including fourDutchmen, to build him a house. Meantime with two barges and thepinnace and forty-six men, including Lieutenant Percy, Captain Wirt,and Captain William Phittiplace, on the 29th of December he set outon a journey to the Pamaunky, or York, River.

The first night was spent at " Warraskogack," the king of whichwarned Smith that while Powhatan would receive him kindly he was onlyseeking an opportunity to cut their throats and seize their arms.Christmas was kept with extreme winds, rain, frost and snow among thesavages at Kecoughton, where before roaring fires they made merrywith plenty of oysters, fish, flesh, wild fowls and good bread. ThePresident and two others went gunning for birds, and brought down onehundred and forty-eight fowls with three shots.

Ascending the river, on the 12th of January they reachedWerowocomoco. The river was frozen half a mile from the shore, andwhen the barge could not come to land by reason of the ice and muddyshallows, they effected a landing by wading. Powhatan at theirrequest sent them venison, turkeys, and bread; the next day hefeasted them, and then inquired when they were going, ignoring hisinvitation to them to come. Hereupon followed a long game of fencebetween Powhatan and Captain Smith, each trying to overreach theother, and each indulging profusely in lies and pledges. Eachprofessed the utmost love for the other.

Smith upbraided him with neglect of his promise to supply them withcorn, and told him, in reply to his demand for weapons, that he hadno arms to spare. Powhatan asked him, if he came on a peacefulerrand, to lay aside his weapons, for he had heard that the Englishcame not so much for trade as to invade his people and possess hiscountry, and the people did not dare to bring in their corn while theEnglish were around.

Powhatan seemed indifferent about the building. The Dutchmen who hadcome to build Powhatan a house liked the Indian plenty better thanthe risk of starvation with the colony, revealed to Powhatan thepoverty of the whites, and plotted to betray them, of which plotSmith was not certain till six months later. Powhatan discoursedeloquently on the advantage of peace over war: "I have seen the deathof all my people thrice," he said, "and not any one living of thosethree generations but myself; I know the difference of peace and warbetter than any in my country. But I am now old and ere long mustdie." He wanted to leave his brothers and sisters in peace. Heheard that Smith came to destroy his country. He asked him what goodit would do to destroy them that provided his food, to drive theminto the woods where they must feed on roots and acorns; "and be sohunted by you that I can neither rest, eat nor sleep, but my tiredmen must watch, and if a twig but break every one crieth, therecometh Captain Smith!" They might live in peace, and trade, if Smithwould only lay aside his arms. Smith, in return, boasted of hispower to get provisions, and said that he had only been restrainedfrom violence by his love for Powhatan; that the Indians came armedto Jamestown, and it was the habit of the whites to wear their arms.Powhatan then contrasted the liberality of Newport, and told Smiththat while he had used him more kindly than any other chief, he hadreceived from him (Smith) the least kindness of any.

Believing that the palaver was only to get an opportunity to cut histhroat, Smith got the savages to break the ice in order to bring upthe barge and load it with corn, and gave orders for his soldiers toland and surprise Powhatan; meantime, to allay his suspicions,telling him the lie that next day he would lay aside his arms andtrust Powhatan's promises. But Powhatan was not to be caught withsuch chaff. Leaving two or three women to talk with the Captain hesecretly fled away with his women, children, and luggage. When Smithperceived this treachery he fired into the "naked devils" who were insight. The next day Powhatan sent to excuse his flight, andpresented him a bracelet and chain of pearl and vowed eternalfriendship.

With matchlocks lighted, Smith forced the Indians to load the boats;but as they were aground, and could not be got off till high water,he was compelled to spend the night on shore. Powhatan and thetreacherous Dutchmen are represented as plotting to kill Smith thatnight. Provisions were to be brought him with professions offriendship, and Smith was to be attacked while at supper. TheIndians, with all the merry sports they could devise, spent the timetill night, and then returned to Powhatan.

The plot was frustrated in the providence of God by a strange means."For Pocahuntas his dearest jewele and daughter in that dark nightcame through the irksome woods, and told our Captaine good cheershould be sent us by and by; but Powhatan and all the power he couldmake would after come and kill us all, if they that brought it couldnot kill us with our own weapons when we were at supper. Thereforeif we would live she wished us presently to be gone. Such things asshe delighted in he would have given her; but with the tears rollingdown her cheeks she said she durst not to be seen to have any; for ifPowhatan should know it, she were but dead, and so she ran away byherself as she came."

[This instance of female devotion is exactly paralleled inD'Albertis's "New Guinea." Abia, a pretty Biota girl of seventeen,made her way to his solitary habitation at the peril of her life, toinform him that the men of Rapa would shortly bring him insects andother presents, in order to get near him without suspicion, and thenkill him. He tried to reward the brave girl by hanging a gold chainabout her neck, but she refused it, saying it would betray her. Hecould only reward her with a fervent kiss, upon which she fled.Smith omits that part of the incident.]

In less than an hour ten burly fellows arrived with great platters ofvictuals, and begged Smith to put out the matches (the smoke of whichmade them sick) and sit down and eat. Smith, on his guard, compelledthem to taste each dish, and then sent them back to Powhatan. Allnight the whites watched, but though the savages lurked about, noattack was made. Leaving the four Dutchmen to build Powhatan'shouse, and an Englishman to shoot game for him, Smith next eveningdeparted for Pamaunky.

No sooner had he gone than two of the Dutchmen made their wayoverland to Jamestown, and, pretending Smith had sent them, procuredarms, tools, and clothing. They induced also half a dozen sailors,"expert thieves," to accompany them to live with Powhatan; andaltogether they stole, besides powder and shot, fifty swords, eightpieces, eight pistols, and three hundred hatchets. Edward Boyntonand Richard Savage, who had been left with Powhatan, seeing thetreachery, endeavored to escape, but were apprehended by the Indians.

At Pamaunky there was the same sort of palaver with Opechancanough,the king, to whom Smith the year before had expounded the mysteriesof history, geography, and astronomy. After much fencing in talk,Smith, with fifteen companions, went up to the King's house, wherepresently he found himself betrayed and surrounded by seven hundredarmed savages, seeking his life. His company being dismayed, Smithrestored their courage by a speech, and then, boldly charging theKing with intent to murder him, he challenged him to a single combaton an island in the river, each to use his own arms, but Smith to beas naked as the King. The King still professed friendship, and laida great present at the door, about which the Indians lay in ambush tokill Smith. But this hero, according to his own account, took promptmeasures. He marched out to the King where he stood guarded by fiftyof his chiefs, seized him by his long hair in the midst of his men,and pointing a pistol at his breast led, him trembling and near deadwith fear amongst all his people. The King gave up his arms, and thesavages, astonished that any man dare treat their king thus, threwdown their bows. Smith, still holding the King by the hair, madethem a bold address, offering peace or war. They chose peace.

In the picture of this remarkable scene in the "General Historie,"the savage is represented as gigantic in stature, big enough to crushthe little Smith in an instant if he had but chosen. Having giventhe savages the choice to load his ship with corn or to load ithimself with their dead carcasses, the Indians so thronged in withtheir commodities that Smith was tired of receiving them, and leavinghis comrades to trade, he lay down to rest. When he was asleep theIndians, armed some with clubs, and some with old English swords,entered into the house. Smith awoke in time, seized his arms, andothers coming to his rescue, they cleared the house.

While enduring these perils, sad news was brought from Jamestown.Mr. Scrivener, who had letters from England (writes Smith) urging himto make himself Caesar or nothing, declined in his affection forSmith, and began to exercise extra authority. Against the advice ofthe others, he needs must make a journey to the Isle of Hogs, takingwith him in the boat Captain Waldo, Anthony Gosnoll (or Gosnold,believed to be a relative of Captain Bartholomew Gosnold), and eightothers. The boat was overwhelmed in a storm, and sunk, no one knowshow or where. The savages were the first to discover the bodies ofthe lost. News of this disaster was brought to Captain Smith (whodid not disturb the rest by making it known) by Richard Wiffin, whoencountered great dangers on the way. Lodging overnight atPowhatan's, he saw great preparations for war, and found himself inperil. Pocahontas hid him for a time, and by her means, andextraordinary bribes, in three days' travel he reached Smith.

Powhatan, according to Smith, threatened death to his followers ifthey did not kill Smith. At one time swarms of natives, unarmed,came bringing great supplies of provisions; this was to put Smith offhis guard, surround him with hundreds of savages, and slay him by anambush. But he also laid in ambush and got the better of the craftyfoe with a superior craft. They sent him poisoned food, which madehis company sick, but was fatal to no one. Smith apologizes fortemporizing with the Indians at this time, by explaining that hispurpose was to surprise Powhatan and his store of provisions. Butwhen they stealthily stole up to the seat of that crafty chief, theyfound that those "damned Dutchmen" had caused Powhatan to abandon hisnew house at Werowocomoco, and to carry away all his corn andprovisions.

The reward of this wearisome winter campaign was two hundred weightof deer-suet and four hundred and seventy-nine bushels of corn forthe general store. They had not to show such murdering anddestroying as the Spaniards in their "relations," nor heaps and minesof gold and silver; the land of Virginia was barbarous and ill-planted, and without precious jewels, but no Spanish relation couldshow, with such scant means, so much country explored, so manynatives reduced to obedience, with so little bloodshed.

XII

TRIALS OF THE SETTLEMENT

Without entering at all into the consideration of the character ofthe early settlers of Virginia and of Massachusetts, one contrastforces itself upon the mind as we read the narratives of thedifferent plantations. In Massachusetts there was from the beginninga steady purpose to make a permanent settlement and colony, andnearly all those who came over worked, with more or less friction,with this end before them. The attempt in Virginia partook more ofthe character of a temporary adventure. In Massachusetts from thebeginning a commonwealth was in view. In Virginia, although theLondon promoters desired a colony to be fixed that would beprofitable to themselves, and many of the adventurers, Captain Smithamong them, desired a permanent planting, a great majority of thosewho went thither had only in mind the advantages of trade, theexcitement of a free and licentious life, and the adventure ofsomething new and startling. It was long before the movers in itgave up the notion of discovering precious metals or a short way tothe South Sea. The troubles the primitive colony endured resultedquite as much from its own instability of purpose, recklessness, andinsubordination as from the hostility of the Indians. The majorityspent their time in idleness, quarreling, and plotting mutiny.

The ships departed for England in December, 1608. When Smithreturned from his expedition for food in the winter of 1609, he foundthat all the provision except what he had gathered was so rotted fromthe rain, and eaten by rats and worms, that the hogs would scarcelyeat it. Yet this had been the diet of the soldiers, who had consumedthe victuals and accomplished nothing except to let the savages havethe most of the tools and a good part of the arms.

Taking stock of what he brought in, Smith found food enough to lasttill the next harvest, and at once organized the company into bandsof ten or fifteen, and compelled them to go to work. Six hours a daywere devoted to labor, and the remainder to rest and merry exercises.Even with this liberal allowance of pastime a great part of thecolony still sulked. Smith made them a short address, exhibiting hispower in the letters-patent, and assuring them that he would enforcediscipline and punish the idle and froward; telling them that thosethat did not work should not eat, and that the labor of forty orfifty industrious men should not be consumed to maintain a hundredand fifty idle loiterers. He made a public table of good and badconduct; but even with this inducement the worst had to be driven towork by punishment or the fear of it.

The Dutchmen with Powhatan continued to make trouble, andconfederates in the camp supplied them with powder and shot, swordsand tools. Powhatan kept the whites who were with him to instructthe Indians in the art of war. They expected other whites to jointhem, and those not coming, they sent Francis, their companion,disguised as an Indian, to find out the cause. He came to the Glasshouse in the woods a mile from Jamestown, which was the rendezvousfor all their villainy. Here they laid an ambush of forty men forSmith, who hearing of the Dutchman, went thither to apprehend him.The rascal had gone, and Smith, sending twenty soldiers to follow andcapture him, started alone from the Glass house to return to thefort. And now occurred another of those personal adventures whichmade Smith famous by his own narration.

On his way he encountered the King of Paspahegh, "a most strong,stout savage," who, seeing that Smith had only his falchion,attempted to shoot him. Smith grappled him; the savage prevented hisdrawing his blade, and bore him into the river to drown him. Longthey struggled in the water, when the President got the savage by thethroat and nearly strangled him, and drawing his weapon, was about tocut off his head, when the King begged his life so pitifully, thatSmith led him prisoner to the fort and put him in chains.

In the pictures of this achievement, the savage is represented asabout twice the size and stature of Smith; another illustration thatthis heroic soul was never contented to take one of his size.

The Dutchman was captured, who, notwithstanding his excuses that hehad escaped from Powhatan and did not intend to return, but was onlywalking in the woods to gather walnuts, on the testimony of Paspaheghof his treachery, was also "laid by the heels." Smith now proposedto Paspahegh to spare his life if he would induce Powhatan to sendback the renegade Dutchmen. The messengers for this purpose reportedthat the Dutchmen, though not detained by Powhatan, would not come,and the Indians said they could not bring them on their backs fiftymiles through the woods. Daily the King's wives, children, andpeople came to visit him, and brought presents to procure peace andhis release. While this was going on, the King, though fettered,escaped. A pursuit only resulted in a vain fight with the Indians.Smith then made prisoners of two Indians who seemed to be hangingaround the camp, Kemps and Tussore, "the two most exact villains inall the country," who would betray their own king and kindred for apiece of copper, and sent them with a force of soldiers, under Percy,against Paspahegh. The expedition burned his house, but did notcapture the fugitive. Smith then went against them himself, killedsix or seven, burned their houses, and took their boats and fishingwires. Thereupon the savages sued for peace, and an amnesty wasestablished that lasted as long as Smith remained in the country.

Another incident occurred about this time which greatly raisedSmith's credit in all that country. The Chicahomanians, who alwayswere friendly traders, were great thieves. One of them stole aPistol, and two proper young fellows, brothers, known to be hisconfederates, were apprehended. One of them was put in the dungeonand the other sent to recover the pistol within twelve hours, indefault of which his brother would be hanged. The President, pityingthe wretched savage in the dungeon, sent him some victuals andcharcoal for a fire. "Ere midnight his brother returned with thepistol, but the poor savage in the dungeon was so smothered with thesmoke he had made, and so piteously burnt, that we found him dead.The other most lamentably bewailed his death, and broke forth in suchbitter agonies, that the President, to quiet him, told him that ifhereafter they would not steal, he would make him alive again; but he(Smith) little thought he could be recovered." Nevertheless, by aliberal use of aqua vitae and vinegar the Indian was brought again tolife, but "so drunk and affrighted that he seemed lunatic, the whichas much tormented and grieved the other as before to see him dead."Upon further promise of good behavior Smith promised to bring theIndian out of this malady also, and so laid him by a fire to sleep.In the morning the savage had recovered his perfect senses, hiswounds were dressed, and the brothers with presents of copper weresent away well contented. This was spread among the savages for amiracle, that Smith could make a man alive that was dead. Henarrates a second incident which served to give the Indians awholesome fear of the whites: "Another ingenious savage of Powhatanhaving gotten a great bag of powder and the back of an armour atWerowocomoco, amongst a many of his companions, to show hisextraordinary skill, he did dry it on the back as he had seen thesoldiers at Jamestown. But he dried it so long, they peeping over itto see his skill, it took fire, and blew him to death, and one or twomore, and the rest so scorched they had little pleasure any more tomeddle with gunpowder."

"These and many other such pretty incidents," says Smith, "so amazedand affrighted Powhatan and his people that from all parts theydesired peace;" stolen articles were returned, thieves sent toJamestown for punishment, and the whole country became as free forthe whites as for the Indians.

And now ensued, in the spring of 1609, a prosperous period of threemonths, the longest season of quiet the colony had enjoyed, but onlya respite from greater disasters. The friendship of the Indians andthe temporary subordination of the settlers we must attribute toSmith's vigor, shrewdness, and spirit of industry. It was mucheasier to manage the Indian's than the idle and vicious men thatcomposed the majority of the settlement.

In these three months they manufactured three or four lasts (fourteenbarrels in a last) of tar, pitch, and soap-ashes, produced somespecimens of glass, dug a well of excellent sweet water in the fort,which they had wanted for two years, built twenty houses, repairedthe church, planted thirty or forty acres of ground, and erected ablock-house on the neck of the island, where a garrison was stationedto trade with the savages and permit neither whites nor Indians topass except on the President's order. Even the domestic animalspartook the industrious spirit: "of three sowes in eighteen monthsincreased 60 and od Pigs; and neare 500 chickings brought upthemselves without having any meat given them." The hogs weretransferred to Hog Isle, where another block house was built andgarrisoned, and the garrison were permitted to take "exercise" incutting down trees and making clapboards and wainscot. They werebuilding a fort on high ground, intended for an easily defendedretreat, when a woful discovery put an end to their thriving plans.

Upon examination of the corn stored in casks, it was found half-rotten, and the rest consumed by rats, which had bred in thousandsfrom the few which came over in the ships. The colony was now at itswits end, for there was nothing to eat except the wild products ofthe country. In this prospect of famine, the two Indians, Kemps andTussore, who had been kept fettered while showing the whites how toplant the fields, were turned loose; but they were unwilling todepart from such congenial company. The savages in the neighborhoodshowed their love by bringing to camp, for sixteen days, each day atleast a hundred squirrels, turkeys, deer, and other wild beasts. Butwithout corn, the work of fortifying and building had to beabandoned, and the settlers dispersed to provide victuals. A partyof sixty or eighty men under Ensign Laxon were sent down the river tolive on oysters; some twenty went with Lieutenant Percy to tryfishing at Point Comfort, where for six weeks not a net was cast,owing to the sickness of Percy, who had been burnt with gunpowder;and another party, going to the Falls with Master West, found nothingto eat but a few acorns.

Up to this time the whole colony was fed by the labors of thirty orforty men: there was more sturgeon than could be devoured by dog andman; it was dried, pounded, and mixed with caviare, sorrel, and otherherbs, to make bread; bread was also made of the "Tockwhogh" root,and with the fish and these wild fruits they lived very well. Butthere were one hundred and fifty of the colony who would ratherstarve or eat each other than help gather food. These "distracted,gluttonous loiterers" would have sold anything they had—tools, arms,and their houses—for anything the savages would bring them to eat.Hearing that there was a basket of corn at Powhatan's, fifty milesaway, they would have exchanged all their property for it. Tosatisfy their factious humors, Smith succeeded in getting half of it:"they would have sold their souls," he says, for the other half,though not sufficient to last them a week.

The clamors became so loud that Smith punished the ringleader, oneDyer, a crafty fellow, and his ancient maligner, and then made one ofhis conciliatory addresses. Having shown them how impossible it wasto get corn, and reminded them of his own exertions, and that he hadalways shared with them anything he had, he told them that he shouldstand their nonsense no longer; he should force the idle to work, andpunish them if they railed; if any attempted to escape toNewfoundland in the pinnace they would arrive at the gallows; thesick should not starve; every man able must work, and every man whodid not gather as much in a day as he did should be put out of thefort as a drone.

Such was the effect of this speech that of the two hundred only sevendied in this pinching time, except those who were drowned; no mandied of want. Captain Winne and Master Leigh had died before thisfamine occurred. Many of the men were billeted among the savages,who used them well, and stood in such awe of the power at the fortthat they dared not wrong the whites out of a pin. The Indianscaught Smith's humor, and some of the men who ran away to seek Kempsand Tussore were mocked and ridiculed, and had applied to them—Smith's law of "who cannot work must not eat;" they were almoststarved and beaten nearly to death. After amusing himself with them,Kemps returned the fugitives, whom Smith punished until they werecontent to labor at home, rather than adventure to live idly amongthe savages, "of whom," says our shrewd chronicler, "there was morehope to make better christians and good subjects than the one half ofthem that counterfeited themselves both." The Indians were in suchsubjection that any who were punished at the fort would beg thePresident not to tell their chief, for they would be again punishedat home and sent back for another round.

We hear now of the last efforts to find traces of the lost colony ofSir Walter Raleigh. Master Sicklemore returned from the Chawwonoke(Chowan River) with no tidings of them; and Master Powell, and AnasTodkill who had been conducted to the Mangoags, in the regions southof the James, could learn nothing but that they were all dead. Theking of this country was a very proper, devout, and friendly man; heacknowledged that our God exceeded his as much as our guns did hisbows and arrows, and asked the President to pray his God for him, forall the gods of the Mangoags were angry.

The Dutchmen and one Bentley, another fugitive, who were withPowhatan, continued to plot against the colony, and the Presidentemployed a Swiss, named William Volday, to go and regain them withpromises of pardon. Volday turned out to be a hypocrite, and agreater rascal than the others. Many of the discontented in the fortwere brought into the scheme, which was, with Powhatan's aid, tosurprise and destroy Jamestown. News of this getting about in thefort, there was a demand that the President should cut off theseDutchmen. Percy and Cuderington, two gentlemen, volunteered to doit; but Smith sent instead Master Wiffin and Jeffrey Abbot, to go andstab them or shoot them. But the Dutchmen were too shrewd to becaught, and Powhatan sent a conciliatory message that he did notdetain the Dutchmen, nor hinder the slaying of them.

While this plot was simmering, and Smith was surrounded by treacheryinside the fort and outside, and the savages were being taught thatKing James would kill Smith because he had used the Indians sounkindly, Captain Argall and Master Thomas Sedan arrived out in awell-furnished vessel, sent by Master Cornelius to trade and fish forsturgeon. The wine and other good provision of the ship were soopportune to the necessities of the colony that the President seizedthem. Argall lost his voyage; his ship was revictualed and sent backto England, but one may be sure that this event was so represented asto increase the fostered dissatisfaction with Smith in London. Forone reason or another, most of the persons who returned had probablycarried a bad report of him. Argall brought to Jamestown from Londona report of great complaints of him for his dealings with the savagesand not returning ships freighted with the products of the country.Misrepresented in London, and unsupported and conspired against inVirginia, Smith felt his fall near at hand. On the face of it he wasthe victim of envy and the rascality of incompetent and bad men; butwhatever his capacity for dealing with savages, it must be confessedthat he lacked something which conciliates success with one's ownpeople. A new commission was about to be issued, and a great supplywas in preparation under Lord De La Ware.

XIII

SMITH'S LAST DAYS IN VIRGINIA

The London company were profoundly dissatisfied with the results ofthe Virginia colony. The South Sea was not discovered, no gold hadturned up, there were no valuable products from the new land, and thepromoters received no profits on their ventures. With theirexpectations, it is not to be wondered at that they were stillfurther annoyed by the quarreling amongst the colonists themselves,and wished to begin over again.

A new charter, dated May 23, 1609, with enlarged powers, was got fromKing James. Hundreds of corporators were named, and even thousandswere included in the various London trades and guilds that werejoined in the enterprise. Among the names we find that of CaptainJohn Smith. But he was out of the Council, nor was he given then orever afterward any place or employment in Virginia, or in themanagement of its affairs. The grant included all the American coasttwo hundred miles north and two hundred miles south of Point Comfort,and all the territory from the coast up into the land throughout fromsea to sea, west and northwest. A leading object of the projectstill being (as we have seen it was with Smith's precious crew atJamestown) the conversion and reduction of the natives to the truereligion, no one was permitted in the colony who had not taken theoath of supremacy.

Under this charter the Council gave a commission to Sir Thomas West,
Lord Delaware, Captain-General of Virginia; Sir Thomas Gates,
Lieutenant-General; Sir George Somers, Admiral; Captain Newport,
Vice-Admiral; Sir Thomas Dale, High Marshal; Sir Frederick Wainman,
General of the Horse, and many other officers for life.

With so many wealthy corporators money flowed into the treasury, anda great expedition was readily fitted out. Towards the end of May,1609, there sailed from England nine ships and five hundred people,under the command of Sir Thomas Gates, Sir George Somers, and CaptainNewport. Each of these commanders had a commission, and the one whoarrived first was to call in the old commission; as they could notagree, they all sailed in one ship, the Sea Venture.

This brave expedition was involved in a contest with a hurricane; onevessel was sunk, and the Sea Venture, with the three commanders, onehundred and fifty men, the new commissioners, bills of lading, allsorts of instructions, and much provision, was wrecked on theBermudas. With this company was William Strachey, of whom we shallhear more hereafter. Seven vessels reached Jamestown, and brought,among other annoyances, Smith's old enemy, Captain Ratcliffe, aliasSicklemore, in command of a ship. Among the company were alsoCaptains Martin, Archer, Wood, Webbe, Moore, King, Davis, and severalgentlemen of good means, and a crowd of the riff-raff of London.Some of these Captains whom Smith had sent home, now returned withnew pretensions, and had on the voyage prejudiced the company againsthim. When the fleet was first espied, the President thought it wasSpaniards, and prepared to defend himself, the Indians promptlycoming to his assistance.

This hurricane tossed about another expedition still more famous,that of Henry Hudson, who had sailed from England on his third voyagetoward Nova Zembla March 25th, and in July and August was beatingdown the Atlantic coast. On the 18th of August he entered the Capesof Virginia, and sailed a little way up the Bay. He knew he was atthe mouth of the James River, "where our Englishmen are," as he says.The next day a gale from the northeast made him fear being drivenaground in the shallows, and he put to sea. The storm continued forseveral days. On the 21st "a sea broke over the fore-course andsplit it;" and that night something more ominous occurred: "thatnight [the chronicle records] our cat ran crying from one side of theship to the other, looking overboard, which made us to wonder, but wesaw nothing." On the 26th they were again off the bank of Virginia,and in the very bay and in sight of the islands they had seen on the18th. It appeared to Hudson "a great bay with rivers," but tooshallow to explore without a small boat. After lingering till the29th, without any suggestion of ascending the James, he sailednorthward and made the lucky stroke of river exploration whichimmortalized him.

It seems strange that he did not search for the English colony, butthe adventurers of that day were independent actors, and did not careto share with each other the glories of discovery.

The first of the scattered fleet of Gates and Somers came in on the11th, and the rest straggled along during the three or four daysfollowing. It was a narrow chance that Hudson missed them all, andone may imagine that the fate of the Virginia colony and of the NewYork settlement would have been different if the explorer of theHudson had gone up the James.

No sooner had the newcomers landed than trouble began. They wouldhave deposed Smith on report of the new commission, but they couldshow no warrant. Smith professed himself willing to retire toEngland, but, seeing the new commission did not arrive, held on tohis authority, and began to enforce it to save the whole colony fromanarchy. He depicts the situation in a paragraph: "To a thousandmischiefs these lewd Captains led this lewd company, wherein weremany unruly gallants, packed thither by their friends to escape illdestinies, and those would dispose and determine of the government,sometimes to one, the next day to another; today the old commissionmust rule, tomorrow the new, the next day neither; in fine, theywould rule all or ruin all; yet in charity we must endure them thusto destroy us, or by correcting their follies, have brought theworld's censure upon us to be guilty of their blouds. Happie had webeene had they never arrived, and we forever abandoned, as we wereleft to our fortunes; for on earth for their number was never moreconfusion or misery than their factions occasioned." In this companycame a boy, named Henry Spelman, whose subsequent career possessesconsiderable interest.

The President proceeded with his usual vigor: he "laid by the heels"the chief mischief-makers till he should get leisure to punish them;sent Mr. West with one hundred and twenty good men to the Falls tomake a settlement; and despatched Martin with near as many and theirproportion of provisions to Nansemond, on the river of that nameemptying into the James, obliquely opposite Point Comfort.

Lieutenant Percy was sick and had leave to depart for England when hechose. The President's year being about expired, in accordance withthe charter, he resigned, and Captain Martin was elected President.But knowing his inability, he, after holding it three hours, resignedit to Smith, and went down to Nansemond. The tribe used him kindly,but he was so frightened with their noisy demonstration of mirth thathe surprised and captured the poor naked King with his houses, andbegan fortifying his position, showing so much fear that the savageswere emboldened to attack him, kill some of his men, release theirKing, and carry off a thousand bushels of corn which had beenpurchased, Martin not offering to intercept them. The frightenedCaptain sent to Smith for aid, who despatched to him thirty goodshot. Martin, too chicken-hearted to use them, came back with themto Jamestown, leaving his company to their fortunes. In thisadventure the President commends the courage of one George Forrest,who, with seventeen arrows sticking into him and one shot throughhim, lived six or seven days.

Meantime Smith, going up to the Falls to look after Captain West, metthat hero on his way to Jamestown. He turned him back, and foundthat he had planted his colony on an unfavorable flat, subject notonly to the overflowing of the river, but to more intolerableinconveniences. To place him more advantageously the President sentto Powhatan, offering to buy the place called Powhatan, promising todefend him against the Monacans, to pay him in copper, and make ageneral alliance of trade and friendship.

But "those furies," as Smith calls West and his associates, refusedto move to Powhatan or to accept these conditions. They contemnedhis authority, expecting all the time the new commission, and,regarding all the Monacans' country as full of gold, determined thatno one should interfere with them in the possession of it. Smith,however, was not intimidated from landing and attempting to quelltheir mutiny. In his "General Historie " it is written "I doe morethan wonder to think how onely with five men he either durst or wouldadventure as he did (knowing how greedy they were of his bloud) tocome amongst them." He landed and ordered the arrest of the chiefdisturbers, but the crowd hustled him off. He seized one of theirboats and escaped to the ship which contained the provision.Fortunately the sailors were friendly and saved his life, and aconsiderable number of the better sort, seeing the malice ofRatcliffe and Archer, took Smith's part.

Out of the occurrences at this new settlement grew many of thecharges which were preferred against Smith. According to the"General Historie" the company of Ratcliffe and Archer was adisorderly rabble, constantly tormenting the Indians, stealing theircorn, robbing their gardens, beating them, and breaking into theirhouses and taking them prisoners. The Indians daily complained tothe President that these "protectors" he had given them were worseenemies than the Monacans, and desired his pardon if they defendedthemselves, since he could not punish their tormentors. They evenproposed to fight for him against them. Smith says that afterspending nine days in trying to restrain them, and showing them howthey deceived themselves with "great guilded hopes of the South SeaMines," he abandoned them to their folly and set sail for Jamestown.

No sooner was he under way than the savages attacked the fort, slewmany of the whites who were outside, rescued their friends who wereprisoners, and thoroughly terrified the garrison. Smith's shiphappening to go aground half a league below, they sent off to him,and were glad to submit on any terms to his mercy. He "put by theheels" six or seven of the chief offenders, and transferred thecolony to Powhatan, where were a fort capable of defense against allthe savages in Virginia, dry houses for lodging, and two hundredacres of ground ready to be planted. This place, so strong anddelightful in situation, they called Non-such. The savages appearedand exchanged captives, and all became friends again.

At this moment, unfortunately, Captain West returned. All thevictuals and munitions having been put ashore, the old factiousprojects were revived. The soft-hearted West was made to believethat the rebellion had been solely on his account. Smith, seeingthem bent on their own way, took the row-boat for Jamestown. Thecolony abandoned the pleasant Non-such and returned to the open airat West's Fort. On his way down, Smith met with the accident thatsuddenly terminated his career in Virginia.

While he was sleeping in his boat his powder-bag was accidentallyfired; the explosion tore the flesh from his body and thighs, nine orten inches square, in the most frightful manner. To quench thetormenting fire, frying him in his clothes, he leaped into the deepriver, where, ere they could recover him, he was nearly drowned. Inthis pitiable condition, without either surgeon or surgery, he was togo nearly a hundred miles.

It is now time for the appearance upon the scene of the boy HenrySpelman, with his brief narration, which touches this period ofSmith's life. Henry Spelman was the third son of the distinguishedantiquarian, Sir Henry Spelman, of Coughan, Norfolk, who was marriedin 1581. It is reasonably conjectured that he could not have beenover twenty-one when in May, 1609, he joined the company going toVirginia. Henry was evidently a scapegrace, whose friends werewilling to be rid of him. Such being his character, it is more thanprobable that he was shipped bound as an apprentice, and of coursewith the conditions of apprenticeship in like expeditions of thatperiod—to be sold or bound out at the end of the voyage to pay forhis passage. He remained for several years in Virginia, living mostof the time among the Indians, and a sort of indifferent go betweenof the savages and the settlers. According to his own story it wason October 20, 1609, that he was taken up the river to Powhatan byCaptain Smith, and it was in April, 1613, that he was rescued fromhis easy-setting captivity on the Potomac by Captain Argall. Duringhis sojourn in Virginia, or more probably shortly after his return toEngland, he wrote a brief and bungling narration of his experiencesin the colony, and a description of Indian life. The MS. was notprinted in his time, but mislaid or forgotten. By a strange seriesof chances it turned up in our day, and was identified and preparedfor the press in 1861. Before the proof was read, the type wasaccidentally broken up and the MS. again mislaid. Lost sight of forseveral years, it was recovered and a small number of copies of itwere printed at London in 1872, edited by Mr. James F. Hunnewell.

Spelman's narration would be very important if we could trust it. Heappeared to have set down what he saw, and his story has a certainsimplicity that gains for it some credit. But he was a reckless boy,unaccustomed to weigh evidence, and quite likely to write as factsthe rumors that he heard. He took very readily to the ways of Indianlife. Some years after, Spelman returned to Virginia with the titleof Captain, and in 1617 we find this reference to him in the "GeneralHistorie": " Here, as at many other times, we are beholden to Capt.Henry Spilman, an interpreter, a gentleman that lived long time inthis country, and sometimes a prisoner among the Salvages, and donemuch good service though but badly rewarded." Smith would probablynot have left this on record had he been aware of the contents of theMS. that Spelman had left for after-times.

Spelman begins his Relation, from which I shall quote substantially,without following the spelling or noting all the interlineations,with the reason for his emigration, which was, "being in displeasureof my friends, and desirous to see other countries." After a briefaccount of the voyage and the joyful arrival at Jamestown, theRelation continues:

"Having here unloaded our goods and bestowed some senight orfortnight in viewing the country, I was carried by Capt. Smith, ourPresident, to the Falls, to the little Powhatan, where, unknown tome, he sold me to him for a town called Powhatan; and, leaving mewith him, the little Powhatan, he made known to Capt. West how he hadbought a town for them to dwell in. Whereupon Capt. West, growingangry because he had bestowed cost to begin a town in another place,Capt. Smith desiring that Capt. West would come and settle himselfthere, but Capt. West, having bestowed cost to begin a town inanother place, misliked it, and unkindness thereupon arising betweenthem, Capt. Smith at that time replied little, but afterward combinedwith Powhatan to kill Capt. West, which plot took but small effect,for in the meantime Capt. Smith was apprehended and sent aboard forEngland."

That this roving boy was "thrown in" as a makeweight in the trade forthe town is not impossible; but that Smith combined with Powhatan tokill Captain West is doubtless West's perversion of the offer of theIndians to fight on Smith's side against him.

According to Spelman's Relation, he stayed only seven or eight dayswith the little Powhatan, when he got leave to go to Jamestown, beingdesirous to see the English and to fetch the small articles thatbelonged to him. The Indian King agreed to wait for him at thatplace, but he stayed too long, and on his return the little Powhatanhad departed, and Spelman went back to Jamestown. Shortly after, thegreat Powhatan sent Thomas Savage with a present of venison toPresident Percy. Savage was loath to return alone, and Spelman wasappointed to go with him, which he did willingly, as victuals werescarce in camp. He carried some copper and a hatchet, which hepresented to Powhatan, and that Emperor treated him and his comradevery kindly, seating them at his own mess-table. After some threeweeks of this life, Powhatan sent this guileless youth down to decoythe English into his hands, promising to freight a ship with corn ifthey would visit him. Spelman took the message and brought back theEnglish reply, whereupon Powhatan laid the plot which resulted in thekilling of Captain Ratcliffe and thirty-eight men, only two of hiscompany escaping to Jamestown. Spelman gives two versions of thisincident. During the massacre Spelman says that Powhatan sent himand Savage to a town some sixteen miles away. Smith's "GeneralHistorie" says that on this occasion "Pocahuntas saved a boy namedHenry Spilman that lived many years afterward, by her means, amongthe Patawomekes." Spelman says not a word about Pocahuntas. On thecontrary, he describes the visit of the King of the Patawomekes toPowhatan; says that the King took a fancy to him; that he and DutchSamuel, fearing for their lives, escaped from Powhatan's town; werepursued; that Samuel was killed, and that Spelman, after dodgingabout in the forest, found his way to the Potomac, where he livedwith this good King Patomecke at a place called Pasptanzie for morethan a year. Here he seems to have passed his time agreeably, foralthough he had occasional fights with the squaws of Patomecke, theKing was always his friend, and so much was he attached to the boythat he would not give him up to Captain Argall without some copperin exchange.

When Smith returned wounded to Jamestown, he was physically in nocondition to face the situation. With no medical attendance, hisdeath was not improbable. He had no strength to enforce disciplinenor organize expeditions for supplies; besides, he was acting under acommission whose virtue had expired, and the mutinous spiritsrebelled against his authority. Ratcliffe, Archer, and the otherswho were awaiting trial conspired against him, and Smith says hewould have been murdered in his bed if the murderer's heart had notfailed him when he went to fire his pistol at the defenseless sickman. However, Smith was forced to yield to circ*mstances. No soonerhad he given out that he would depart for England than they persuadedMr. Percy to stay and act as President, and all eyes were turned inexpectation of favor upon the new commanders. Smith being thusdivested of authority, the most of the colony turned against him;many preferred charges, and began to collect testimony. "The shipswere detained three weeks to get up proofs of his ill-conduct"—"timeand charges," says Smith, dryly, "that might much better have beenspent."

It must have enraged the doughty Captain, lying thus helpless, to seehis enemies triumph, the most factious of the disturbers in thecolony in charge of affairs, and become his accusers. Even at thisdistance we can read the account with little patience, and shouldhave none at all if the account were not edited by Smith himself.His revenge was in his good fortune in setting his own story afloatin the current of history. The first narrative of these events,published by Smith in his Oxford tract of 1612, was considerablyremodeled and changed in his "General Historie" of 1624. As we havesaid before, he had a progressive memory, and his opponents ought tobe thankful that the pungent Captain did not live to work the storyover a third time.

It is no doubt true, however, that but for the accident to our hero,he would have continued to rule till the arrival of Gates and Somerswith the new commissions; as he himself says, "but had that unhappyblast not happened, he would quickly have qualified the heat of thosehumors and factions, had the ships but once left them and us to ourfortunes; and have made that provision from among the salvages, as weneither feared Spaniard, Salvage, nor famine: nor would have leftVirginia nor our lawful authority, but at as dear a price as we hadbought it, and paid for it."

He doubtless would have fought it out against all comers; and whoshall say that he does not merit the glowing eulogy on himself whichhe inserts in his General History? "What shall I say but this, weleft him, that in all his proceedings made justice his first guide,and experience his second, ever hating baseness, sloth, pride, andindignity, more than any dangers; that upon no danger would send themwhere he would not lead them himself; that would never see us wantwhat he either had or could by any means get us; that would ratherwant than borrow; or starve than not pay; that loved action more thanwords, and hated falsehood and covetousness worse than death; whoseadventures were our lives, and whose loss our deaths."

A handsomer thing never was said of another man than Smith could sayof himself, but he believed it, as also did many of his comrades, wemust suppose. He suffered detraction enough, but he suffered alsoabundant eulogy both in verse and prose. Among his eulogists, ofcourse, is not the factious Captain Ratcliffe. In the EnglishColonial State papers, edited by Mr. Noel Sainsbury, is a note, datedJamestown, October 4, 1609, from Captain "John Radclyffe comenlycalled," to the Earl of Salisbury, which contains this remark uponSmith's departure after the arrival of the last supply: "They heardthat all the Council were dead but Capt. [John] Smith, President, whor*igned sole Governor, and is now sent home to answer somemisdemeanor."

Captain Archer also regards this matter in a different light fromthat in which Smith represents it. In a letter from Jamestown,written in August, he says:

"In as much as the President [Smith], to strengthen his authority,accorded with the variances and gave not any due respect to manyworthy gentlemen that were in our ships, wherefore they generally,with my consent, chose Master West, my Lord De La Ware's brother,their Governor or President de bene esse, in the absence of SirThomas Gates, or if he be miscarried by sea, then to continue till weheard news from our counsell in England. This choice of him theymade not to disturb the old President during his term, but as hisauthority expired, then to take upon him the sole government, withsuch assistants of the captains or discreet persons as the colonyafforded.

"Perhaps you shall have it blamed as a mutinie by such as retaine oldmalice, but Master West, Master Piercie, and all the respectedgentlemen of worth in Virginia, can and will testify otherwise upontheir oaths. For the King's patent we ratified, but refused to begoverned by the President—that is, after his time was expired andonly subjected ourselves to Master West, whom we labor to have nextPresident."

It is clear from this statement that the attempt was made tosupersede Smith even before his time expired, and without anyauthority (since the new commissions were still with Gates and Somersin Bermuda), for the reason that Smith did not pay proper respect tothe newly arrived "gentlemen." Smith was no doubt dictatorial andoffensive, and from his point of view he was the only man whounderstood Virginia, and knew how successfully to conduct the affairsof the colony. If this assumption were true it would be none theless disagreeable to the new-comers.

At the time of Smith's deposition the colony was in prosperouscondition. The "General Historie " says that he left them "withthree ships, seven boats, commodities ready to trade, the harvestnewly gathered, ten weeks' provision in store, four hundred ninetyand odd persons, twenty-four pieces of ordnance, three hundredmuskets, snaphances and fire-locks, shot, powder, and matchsufficient, curats, pikes, swords, and morrios, more than men; theSalvages, their language and habitations well known to a hundredwell-trained and expert soldiers; nets for fishing; tools of allkinds to work; apparel to supply our wants; six mules and a horse;five or six hundred swine; as many hens and chickens; some goats;some sheep; what was brought or bred there remained." Jamestown wasalso strongly palisaded and contained some fifty or sixty houses;besides there were five or six other forts and plantations, "not sosumptuous as our succerers expected, they were better than theyprovided any for us."

These expectations might well be disappointed if they were foundedupon the pictures of forts and fortifications in Virginia and in theSomers Islands, which appeared in De Bry and in the "GeneralHistorie," where they appear as massive stone structures with all thefinish and elegance of the European military science of the day.

Notwithstanding these ample provisions for the colony, Smith hadsmall expectation that it would thrive without him. "They regardingnothing," he says, "but from hand to mouth, did consume what we had,took care for nothing but to perfect some colorable complaint againstCaptain Smith."

Nor was the composition of the colony such as to beget high hopes ofit. There was but one carpenter, and three others that desired tolearn, two blacksmiths, ten sailors; those called laborers were forthe most part footmen, brought over to wait upon the adventurers, whodid not know what a day's work was—all the real laborers were theDutchmen and Poles and some dozen others. "For all the rest werepoor gentlemen, tradesmen, serving men, libertines, and such like,ten times more fit to spoil a commonwealth than either begin one orhelp to maintain one. For when neither the fear of God, nor the law,nor shame, nor displeasure of their friends could rule them here,there is small hope ever to bring one in twenty of them to be goodthere." Some of them proved more industrious than was expected;"but ten good workmen would have done more substantial work in a daythan ten of them in a week."

The disreputable character of the majority of these colonists isabundantly proved by other contemporary testimony. In the letter ofthe Governor and Council of Virginia to the London Company, datedJamestown, July 7, 1610, signed by Lord De La Ware, Thomas Gates,George Percy, Ferd. Wenman, and William Strachey, and probablycomposed by Strachey, after speaking of the bountiful capacity of thecountry, the writer exclaims: "Only let me truly acknowledge thereare not one hundred or two of deboisht hands, dropt forth by yearafter year, with penury and leysure, ill provided for before theycome, and worse governed when they are here, men of such distemperedbodies and infected minds, whom no examples daily before their eyes,either of goodness or punishment, can deterr from their habituallimpieties, or terrifie from a shameful death, that must be thecarpenters and workmen in this so glorious a building."

The chapter in the "General Historie" relating to Smith's last daysin Virginia was transferred from the narrative in the appendix toSmith's "Map of Virginia," Oxford, 1612, but much changed in thetransfer. In the "General Historie" Smith says very little about thenature of the charges against him. In the original narrative signedby Richard Pots and edited by Smith, there are more details of thecharges. One omitted passage is this: "Now all those Smith hadeither whipped or punished, or in any way disgraced, had free powerand liberty to say or sweare anything, and from a whole armful oftheir examinations this was concluded."

Another omitted passage relates to the charge, to which reference ismade in the "General Historie," that Smith proposed to marryPocahontas:

"Some propheticall spirit calculated he had the salvages in suchsubjection, he would have made himself a king by marrying Pocahuntas,Powhatan's daughter. It is true she was the very nonpareilof his kingdom, and at most not past thirteen or fourteen years ofa*ge. Very oft she came to our fort with what she could get forCapt. Smith, that ever loved and used all the country well, but herespecially he ever much respected, and she so well requited it, thatwhen her father intended to have surprised him, she by stealth inthe dark night came through the wild woods and told him of it.But her marriage could in no way have entitled him by any rightto the kingdom, nor was it ever suspected he had such a thought, ormore regarded her or any of them than in honest reason and discretionhe might. If he would he might have married her, or havedone what he listed. For there were none that could have hinderedhis determination."

It is fair, in passing, to remark that the above allusion to thenight visit of Pocahontas to Smith in this tract of 1612 helps toconfirm the story, which does not appear in the previous narration ofSmith's encounter with Powhatan at Werowocomoco in the same tract,but is celebrated in the "General Historie." It is also hintedplainly enough that Smith might have taken the girl to wife, Indianfashion.

XIV

THE COLONY WITHOUT SMITH

It was necessary to follow for a time the fortune of the Virginiacolony after the departure of Captain Smith. Of its disasters andspeedy decline there is no more doubt than there is of the opinion ofSmith that these were owing to his absence. The savages, we read inhis narration, no sooner knew he was gone than they all revolted andspoiled and murdered all they encountered.

The day before Captain Smith sailed, Captain Davis arrived in a smallpinnace with sixteen men. These, with a company from the fort underCaptain Ratcliffe, were sent down to Point Comfort. Captain West andCaptain Martin, having lost their boats and half their men among thesavages at the Falls, returned to Jamestown. The colony now livedupon what Smith had provided, "and now they had presidents with alltheir appurtenances. President Percy was so sick he could neither gonor stand. Provisions getting short, West and Ratcliffe went abroadto trade, and Ratcliffe and twenty-eight of his men were slain by anambush of Powhatan's, as before related in the narrative of HenrySpelman. Powhatan cut off their boats, and refused to trade, so thatCaptain West set sail for England. What ensued cannot be morevividly told than in the "General Historie":

"Now we all found the losse of Capt. Smith, yea his greatestmaligners could now curse his losse; as for corne provision andcontribution from the salvages, we had nothing but mortall wounds,with clubs and arrowes; as for our hogs, hens, goats, sheep, horse,or what lived, our commanders, officers and salvages daily consumedthem, some small proportions sometimes we tasted, till all wasdevoured; then swords, arms, pieces or anything was traded with thesalvages, whose cruell fingers were so oft imbrued in our blouds,that what by their crueltie, our Governor's indiscretion, and thelosse of our ships, of five hundred within six months after Capt.Smith's departure, there remained not past sixty men, women andchildren, most miserable and poore creatures; and those werepreserved for the most part, by roots, herbes, acorns, walnuts,berries, now and then a little fish; they that had starch in theseextremities made no small use of it, yea, even the very skinnes ofour horses. Nay, so great was our famine, that a salvage we slew andburied, the poorer sort took him up again and eat him, and so diddivers one another boyled, and stewed with roots and herbs. And oneamongst the rest did kill his wife, poudered her and had eaten partof her before it was knowne, for which he was executed, as he welldeserved; now whether she was better roasted, boyled, or carbonaded,I know not, but of such a dish as powdered wife I never heard of.This was that time, which still to this day we called the starvingtime; it were too vile to say and scarce to be believed what weendured; but the occasion was our owne, for want of providence,industrie and government, and not the barreness and defect of thecountry as is generally supposed."

This playful allusion to powdered wife, and speculation as to how shewas best cooked, is the first instance we have been able to find ofwhat is called "American humor," and Captain Smith has the honor ofbeing the first of the "American humorists" who have handled subjectsof this kind with such pleasing gayety.

It is to be noticed that this horrible story of cannibalism and wife-eating appears in Smith's "General Historie" of 1624, without a wordof contradiction or explanation, although the company as early as1610 had taken pains to get at the facts, and Smith must have seentheir "Declaration," which supposes the story was started by enemiesof the colony. Some reported they saw it, some that Captain Smithsaid so, and some that one Beadle, the lieutenant of Captain Davis,did relate it. In "A True Declaration of the State of the Colonie inVirginia," published by the advice and direction of the Council ofVirginia, London, 1610, we read:

"But to clear all doubt, Sir Thomas Yates thus relateth the tragedie:

"There was one of the company who mortally hated his wife, andtherefore secretly killed her, then cut her in pieces and hid her indivers parts of his house: when the woman was missing, the mansuspected, his house searched, and parts of her mangled body werediscovered, to excuse himself he said that his wife died, that he hidher to satisfie his hunger, and that he fed daily upon her. Uponthis his house was again searched, when they found a good quantitieof meale, oatmeale, beanes and pease. Hee therefore was arraigned,confessed the murder, and was burned for his horrible villainy."

This same "True Declaration," which singularly enough does notmention the name of Captain Smith, who was so prominent an actor inVirginia during the period to which it relates, confirms all thatSmith said as to the character of the colonists, especially the newsupply which landed in the eight vessels with Ratcliffe and Archer."Every man overvalueing his own strength would be a commander; everyman underprizing another's value, denied to be commanded." They werenegligent and improvident. "Every man sharked for his presentbootie, but was altogether careless of succeeding penurie." Toidleness and faction was joined treason. About thirty "unhallowedcreatures," in the winter of 1610, some five months before thearrival of Captain Gates, seized upon the ship Swallow, which hadbeen prepared to trade with the Indians, and having obtained cornconspired together and made a league to become pirates, dreaming ofmountains of gold and happy robberies. By this desertion theyweakened the colony, which waited for their return with theprovisions, and they made implacable enemies of the Indians by theirviolence. "These are that scum of men," which, after roving the seasand failing in their piracy, joined themselves to other pirates theyfound on the sea, or returned to England, bound by a mutual oath todiscredit the land, and swore they were drawn away by famine. "Theseare they that roared at the tragicall historie of the man eating uphis dead wife in Virginia"—"scandalous reports of a viperousgeneration."

If further evidence were wanting, we have it in "The New Life ofVirginia," published by authority of the Council, London, 1612. Thisis the second part of the "Nova Britannia," published in London,1609. Both are prefaced by an epistle to Sir Thomas Smith, one ofthe Council and treasurer, signed "R. I." Neither document containsany allusion to Captain John Smith, or the part he played inVirginia. The "New Life of Virginia," after speaking of the tempestwhich drove Sir Thomas Gates on Bermuda, and the landing of the eightships at Jamestown, says: "By which means the body of the plantationwas now augmented with such numbers of irregular persons that it soonbecame as so many members without a head, who as they were bad andevil affected for the most part before they went hence; so now beinglanded and wanting restraint, they displayed their condition in allkinds of looseness, those chief and wisest guides among them (whereofthere were not many) did nothing but bitterly contend who should befirst to command the rest, the common sort, as is ever seen in suchcases grew factious and disordered out of measure, in so much as thepoor colony seemed (like the Colledge of English fugitives in Rome)as a hostile camp within itself; in which distemper that envious manstept in, sowing plentiful tares in the hearts of all, which grew tosuch speedy confusion, that in few months ambition, sloth andidleness had devoured the fruit of former labours, planting andsowing were clean given over, the houses decayed, the church fell toruin, the store was spent, the cattle consumed, our people starved,and the Indians by wrongs and injuries made our enemies…. As forthose wicked Impes that put themselves a shipboard, not knowingotherwise how to live in England; or those ungratious sons that dailyvexed their fathers hearts at home, and were therefore thrust uponthe voyage, which either writing thence, or being returned back tocover their own leudnes, do fill mens ears with false reports oftheir miserable and perilous life in Virginia, let the imputation ofmisery be to their idleness, and the blood that was spilt upon theirown heads that caused it."

Sir Thomas Gates affirmed that after his first coming there he hadseen some of them eat their fish raw rather than go a stone's cast tofetch wood and dress it.

The colony was in such extremity in May, 1610, that it would havebeen extinct in ten days but for the arrival of Sir Thomas Gates andSir George Somers and Captain Newport from the Bermudas. Thesegallant gentlemen, with one hundred and fifty souls, had been wreckedon the Bermudas in the Sea Venture in the preceding July. Theterrors of the hurricane which dispersed the fleet, and thisshipwreck, were much dwelt upon by the writers of the time, and theBermudas became a sort of enchanted islands, or realms of theimagination. For three nights, and three days that were as black asthe nights, the water logged Sea Venture was scarcely kept afloat bybailing. We have a vivid picture of the stanch Somers sitting uponthe poop of the ship, where he sat three days and three nightstogether, without much meat and little or no sleep, conning the shipto keep her as upright as he could, until he happily descried land.The ship went ashore and was wedged into the rocks so fast that itheld together till all were got ashore, and a good part of the goodsand provisions, and the tackling and iron of the ship necessary forthe building and furnishing of a new ship.

This good fortune and the subsequent prosperous life on the islandand final deliverance was due to the noble Somers, or Sommers, afterwhom the Bermudas were long called "Sommers Isles," which wasgradually corrupted into "The Summer Isles." These islands ofBermuda had ever been accounted an enchanted pile of rocks and adesert inhabitation for devils, which the navigator and marineravoided as Scylla and Charybdis, or the devil himself. But thisshipwrecked company found it the most delightful country in theworld, the climate was enchanting, delicious fruits abounded, thewaters swarmed with fish, some of them big enough to nearly drag thefishers into the sea, while whales could be heard spouting and nosingabout the rocks at night; birds fat and tame and willing to be eatencovered all the bushes, and such droves of wild hogs covered theisland that the slaughter of them for months seemed not to diminishtheir number. The friendly disposition of the birds seemed most toimpress the writer of the "True Declaration of Virginia." Heremembers how the ravens fed Elias in the brook Cedron; "so Godprovided for our disconsolate people in the midst of the sea byfoules; but with an admirable difference; unto Elias the ravensbrought meat, unto our men the foules brought (themselves) for meate:for when they whistled, or made any strange noyse, the foules wouldcome and sit on their shoulders, they would suffer themselves to betaken and weighed by our men, who would make choice of the fairestand fattest and let flie the leane and lightest, an accident [thechronicler exclaims], I take it [and everybody will take it], thatcannot be paralleled by any Historie, except when God sent abundanceof Quayles to feed his Israel in the barren wilderness."

The rescued voyagers built themselves comfortable houses on theisland, and dwelt there nine months in good health and plentifullyfed. Sunday was carefully observed, with sermons by Mr. Buck, thechaplain, an Oxford man, who was assisted in the services by StephenHopkins, one of the Puritans who were in the company. A marriage wascelebrated between Thomas Powell, the cook of Sir George Somers, andElizabeth Persons, the servant of Mrs. Horlow. Two children werealso born, a boy who was christened Bermudas and a girl Bermuda. Thegirl was the child of Mr. John Rolfe and wife, the Rolfe who wasshortly afterward to become famous by another marriage. In orderthat nothing should be wanting to the ordinary course of a civilizedcommunity, a murder was committed. In the company were two Indians,Machumps and Namontack, whose acquaintance we have before made,returning from England, whither they had been sent by Captain Smith.Falling out about something, Machumps slew Namontack, and having madea hole to bury him, because it was too short he cut off his legs andlaid them by him. This proceeding Machumps concealed till he was inVirginia.

Somers and Gates were busy building two cedar ships, the Deliverer,of eighty tons, and a pinnace called the Patience. When these werecompleted, the whole company, except two scamps who remained behindand had adventures enough for a three-volume novel, embarked, and onthe 16th of May sailed for Jamestown, where they arrived on the 23dor 24th, and found the colony in the pitiable condition beforedescribed. A few famished settlers watched their coming. The churchbell was rung in the shaky edifice, and the emaciated colonistsassembled and heard the "zealous and sorrowful prayer" of ChaplainBuck. The commission of Sir Thomas Gates was read, and Mr. Percyretired from the governorship.

The town was empty and unfurnished, and seemed like the ruin of someancient fortification rather than the habitation of living men. Thepalisades were down; the ports open; the gates unhinged; the churchruined and unfrequented; the houses empty, torn to pieces or burnt;the people not able to step into the woods to gather fire-wood; andthe Indians killing as fast without as famine and pestilence within.William Strachey was among the new-comers, and this is the story thathe despatched as Lord Delaware's report to England in July. Ontaking stock of provisions there was found only scant rations forsixteen days, and Gates and Somers determined to abandon theplantation, and, taking all on board their own ships, to make theirway to Newfoundland, in the hope of falling in with English vessels.Accordingly, on the 7th of June they got on board and dropped downthe James.

Meantime the news of the disasters to the colony, and the supposedloss of the Sea Venture, had created a great excitement in London,and a panic and stoppage of subscriptions in the company. LordDelaware, a man of the highest reputation for courage and principle,determined to go himself, as Captain-General, to Virginia, in thehope of saving the fortunes of the colony. With three ships and onehundred and fifty persons, mostly artificers, he embarked on the 1stof April, 1610, and reached the Chesapeake Bay on the 5th of June,just in time to meet the forlorn company of Gates and Somers puttingout to sea.

They turned back and ascended to Jamestown, when landing on Sunday,the 10th, after a sermon by Mr. Buck, the commission of Lord Delawarewas read, and Gates turned over his authority to the new Governor.He swore in as Council, Sir Thomas Gates, Lieutenant-General; SirGeorge Somers, Admiral; Captain George Percy; Sir Ferdinando Wenman,Marshal; Captain Christopher Newport, and William Strachey, Esq.,Secretary and Recorder.

On the 19th of June the brave old sailor, Sir George Somers,volunteered to return to the Bermudas in his pinnace to procure hogsand other supplies for the colony. He was accompanied by CaptainArgall in the ship Discovery. After a rough voyage this noble oldknight reached the Bermudas. But his strength was not equal to thememorable courage of his mind. At a place called Saint George hedied, and his men, confounded at the death of him who was the life ofthem all, embalmed his body and set sail for England. CaptainArgall, after parting with his consort, without reaching theBermudas, and much beating about the coast, was compelled to returnto Jamestown.

Captain Gates was sent to England with despatches and to procure moresettlers and more supplies. Lord Delaware remained with the colonyless than a year; his health failing, he went in pursuit of it, inMarch, 1611, to the West Indies. In June of that year Gates sailedagain, with six vessels, three hundred men, one hundred cows, besidesother cattle, and provisions of all sorts. With him went his wife,who died on the passage, and his daughters. His expedition reachedthe James in August. The colony now numbered seven hundred persons.Gates seated himself at Hampton, a "delicate and necessary site for acity."

Percy commanded at Jamestown, and Sir Thomas Dale went up the riverto lay the foundations of Henrico.

We have no occasion to follow further the fortunes of the Virginiacolony, except to relate the story of Pocahontas under her differentnames of Amonate, Matoaka, Mrs. Rolfe, and Lady Rebecca.

XV

THE STORY OF POCAHONTAS

The simple story of the life of Pocahontas is sufficiently romanticwithout the embellishments which have been wrought on it either bythe vanity of Captain Smith or the natural pride of the descendantsof this dusky princess who have been ennobled by the smallest rivuletof her red blood.

That she was a child of remarkable intelligence, and that she earlyshowed a tender regard for the whites and rendered them willing andunwilling service, is the concurrent evidence of all contemporarytestimony. That as a child she was well-favored, sprightly, andprepossessing above all her copper-colored companions, we canbelieve, and that as a woman her manners were attractive. If theportrait taken of her in London—the best engraving of which is bySimon de Passe—in 1616, when she is said to have been twenty-oneyears old, does her justice, she had marked Indian features.

The first mention of her is in "The True Relation," written byCaptain Smith in Virginia in 1608. In this narrative, as our readershave seen, she is not referred to until after Smith's return from thecaptivity in which Powhatan used him "with all the kindness he coulddevise." Her name first appears, toward the close of the relation,in the following sentence:

"Powhatan understanding we detained certain salvages, sent hisdaughter, a child of tenne yeares old, which not only for feature,countenance, and proportion, much exceedeth any of the rest of hispeople, but for wit and spirit the only nonpareil of his country:this hee sent by his most trusty messenger, called Rawhunt, as muchexceeding in deformitie of person, but of a subtill wit and craftyunderstanding, he with a long circ*mstance told mee how well Powhatanloved and respected mee, and in that I should not doubt any way ofhis kindness, he had sent his child, which he most esteemed, to seemee, a Deere, and bread, besides for a present: desiring mee that theBoy [Thomas Savage, the boy given by Newport to Powhatan] might comeagain, which he loved exceedingly, his little Daughter he had taughtthis lesson also: not taking notice at all of the Indians that hadbeen prisoners three daies, till that morning that she saw theirfathers and friends come quietly, and in good termes to entreatetheir libertie.

"In the afternoon they [the friends of the prisoners] being gone, weguarded them [the prisoners] as before to the church, and afterprayer, gave them to Pocahuntas the King's Daughter, in regard of herfather's kindness in sending her: after having well fed them, as allthe time of their imprisonment, we gave them their bows, arrowes, orwhat else they had, and with much content, sent them packing:Pocahuntas, also we requited with such trifles as contented her, totel that we had used the Paspaheyans very kindly in so releasingthem."

The next allusion to her is in the fourth chapter of the narrativeswhich are appended to the " Map of Virginia," etc. This was senthome by Smith, with a description of Virginia, in the late autumn of1608. It was published at Oxford in 1612, from two to three yearsafter Smith's return to England. The appendix contains thenarratives of several of Smith's companions in Virginia, edited byDr. Symonds and overlooked by Smith. In one of these is a briefreference to the above-quoted incident.

This Oxford tract, it is scarcely necessary to repeat, contains noreference to the saving of Smith's life by Pocahontas from the clubsof Powhatan.

The next published mention of Pocahontas, in point of time, is inChapter X. and the last of the appendix to the "Map of Virginia,"and is Smith's denial, already quoted, of his intention to marryPocahontas. In this passage he speaks of her as "at most not past 13or 14 years of age." If she was thirteen or fourteen in 1609, whenSmith left Virginia, she must have been more than ten when he wrotehis "True Relation," composed in the winter of 1608, which in allprobability was carried to England by Captain Nelson, who leftJamestown June 2d.

The next contemporary authority to be consulted in regard toPocahontas is William Strachey, who, as we have seen, went with theexpedition of Gates and Somers, was shipwrecked on the Bermudas, andreached Jamestown May 23 or 24, 1610, and was made Secretary andRecorder of the colony under Lord Delaware. Of the origin and lifeof Strachey, who was a person of importance in Virginia, little isknown. The better impression is that he was the William Strachey ofSaffron Walden, who was married in 1588 and was living in 1620, andthat it was his grandson of the same name who was subsequentlyconnected with the Virginia colony. He was, judged by his writings,a man of considerable education, a good deal of a pedant, and sharedthe credulity and fondness for embellishment of the writers of histime. His connection with Lord Delaware, and his part in framing thecode of laws in Virginia, which may be inferred from the fact that hefirst published them, show that he was a trusted and capable man.

William Strachey left behind him a manuscript entitled "The Historieof Travaile into Virginia Britanica, &c., gathered and observed aswell by those who went first thither, as collected by WilliamStrachey, gent., three years thither, employed as Secretaire ofState." How long he remained in Virginia is uncertain, but it couldnot have been "three years," though he may have been continuedSecretary for that period, for he was in London in 1612, in whichyear he published there the laws of Virginia which had beenestablished by Sir Thomas Gates May 24, 1610, approved by LordDelaware June 10, 1610, and enlarged by Sir Thomas Dale June 22,1611.

The "Travaile" was first published by the Hakluyt Society in 1849.When and where it was written, and whether it was all composed at onetime, are matters much in dispute. The first book, descriptive ofVirginia and its people, is complete; the second book, a narration ofdiscoveries in America, is unfinished. Only the first book concernsus. That Strachey made notes in Virginia may be assumed, but thebook was no doubt written after his return to England

[This code of laws, with its penalty of whipping and death for whatare held now to be venial offenses, gives it a high place among theBlack Codes. One clause will suffice:

"Every man and woman duly twice a day upon the first towling of theBell shall upon the working daies repaire unto the church, to heardivine service upon pain of losing his or her allowance for the firstomission, for the second to be whipt, and for the third to becondemned to the Gallies for six months. Likewise no man or womanshall dare to violate the Sabbath by any gaming, publique or private,abroad or at home, but duly sanctifie and observe the same, bothhimselfe and his familie, by preparing themselves at home withprivate prayer, that they may be the better fitted for the publique,according to the commandments of God, and the orders of our church,as also every man and woman shall repaire in the morning to thedivine service, and sermons preached upon the Sabbath day, and in theafternoon to divine service, and Catechism upon paine for the firstfault to lose their provision, and allowance for the whole weekfollowing, for the second to lose the said allowance and also to bewhipt, and for the third to suffer death."]

Was it written before or after the publication of Smith's "Map andDescription" at Oxford in 1612? The question is important, becauseSmith's "Description" and Strachey's "Travaile" are page after pageliterally the same. One was taken from the other. Commonly at thattime manuscripts seem to have been passed around and much read beforethey were published. Purchas acknowledges that he had unpublishedmanuscripts of Smith when he compiled his narrative. Did Smith seeStrachey's manuscript before he published his Oxford tract, or didStrachey enlarge his own notes from Smith's description? It has beenusually assumed that Strachey cribbed from Smith withoutacknowledgment. If it were a question to be settled by the internalevidence of the two accounts, I should incline to think that Smithcondensed his description from Strachey, but the dates incline thebalance in Smith's favor.

Strachey in his "Travaile" refers sometimes to Smith, and always withrespect. It will be noted that Smith's "Map" was engraved andpublished before the "Description" in the Oxford tract. Purchas hadit, for he says, in writing of Virginia for his "Pilgrimage" (whichwas published in 1613):

"Concerning-the latter [Virginia], Capt. John Smith, partly by wordof mouth, partly by his mappe thereof in print, and more fully by aManuscript which he courteously communicated to mee, hath acquaintedme with that whereof himselfe with great perill and paine, had beenthe discoverer." Strachey in his "Travaile" alludes to it, and paysa tribute to Smith in the following: "Their severall habitations aremore plainly described by the annexed mappe, set forth by Capt.Smith, of whose paines taken herein I leave to the censure of thereader to judge. Sure I am there will not return from thence inhast, any one who hath been more industrious, or who hath had (Capt.Geo. Percie excepted) greater experience amongst them, howevermisconstruction may traduce here at home, where is not easily seenthe mixed sufferances, both of body and mynd, which is there daylie,and with no few hazards and hearty griefes undergon."

There are two copies of the Strachey manuscript. The one used by theHakluyt Society is dedicated to Sir Francis Bacon, with the title of"Lord High Chancellor," and Bacon had not that title conferred on himtill after 1618. But the copy among the Ashmolean manuscripts atOxford is dedicated to Sir Allen Apsley, with the title of "Purveyorto His Majestie's Navie Royall"; and as Sir Allen was made"Lieutenant of the Tower" in 1616, it is believed that the manuscriptmust have been written before that date, since the author would nothave omitted the more important of the two titles in his dedication.

Strachey's prefatory letter to the Council, prefixed to his "Laws"(1612), is dated "From my lodging in the Black Friars. At your bestpleasures, either to return unto the colony, or pray for the successof it heere." In his letter he speaks of his experience in theBermudas and Virginia: "The full storie of both in due time [I] shallconsecrate unto your view…. Howbit since many impediments, as yetmust detaine such my observations in the shadow of darknesse, untillI shall be able to deliver them perfect unto your judgments," etc.

This is not, as has been assumed, a statement that the observationswere not written then, only that they were not "perfect"; in fact,they were detained in the "shadow of darknesse" till the year 1849.Our own inference is, from all the circ*mstances, that Strachey beganhis manuscript in Virginia or shortly after his return, and added toit and corrected it from time to time up to 1616.

We are now in a position to consider Strachey's allusions to
Pocahontas. The first occurs in his description of the apparel of
Indian women:

"The better sort of women cover themselves (for the most part) allover with skin mantells, finely drest, shagged and fringed at theskyrt, carved and coloured with some pretty work, or the proportionof beasts, fowle, tortayses, or other such like imagry, as shall bestplease or expresse the fancy of the wearer; their younger women goenot shadowed amongst their owne companie, until they be nigh eleavenor twelve returnes of the leafe old (for soe they accompt and bringabout the yeare, calling the fall of the leaf tagnitock); nor arethev much ashamed thereof, and therefore would the before rememberedPocahontas, a well featured, but wanton yong girle, Powhatan'sdaughter, sometymes resorting to our fort, of the age then of elevenor twelve yeares, get the boyes forth with her into the markettplace, and make them wheele, falling on their hands, turning up theirheeles upwards, whome she would followe and wheele so herself, nakedas she was, all the fort over; but being once twelve yeares, they puton a kind of semecinctum lethern apron (as do our artificers orhandycrafts men) before their bellies, and are very shamefac't to beseene bare. We have seene some use mantells made both of Turkeyfeathers, and other fowle, so prettily wrought and woven withthreeds, that nothing could be discerned but the feathers, which wereexceedingly warme and very handsome."

Strachey did not see Pocahontas. She did not resort to the campafter the departure of Smith in September, 1609, until she waskidnapped by Governor Dale in April, 1613. He repeats what he heardof her. The time mentioned by him of her resorting to the fort, "ofthe age then of eleven or twelve yeares," must have been the timereferred to by Smith when he might have married her, namely, in1608-9, when he calls her "not past 13 or 14 years of age." Thedescription of her as a "yong girle" tumbling about the fort, "nakedas she was," would seem to preclude the idea that she was married atthat time.

The use of the word "wanton" is not necessarily disparaging, for"wanton" in that age was frequently synonymous with "playful" and"sportive"; but it is singular that she should be spoken of as "wellfeatured, but wanton." Strachey, however, gives in another placewhat is no doubt the real significance of the Indian name"Pocahontas." He says:

"Both men, women, and children have their severall names; at firstaccording to the severall humor of their parents; and for the menchildren, at first, when they are young, their mothers give them aname, calling them by some affectionate title, or perhaps observingtheir promising inclination give it accordingly; and so the greatKing Powhatan called a young daughter of his, whom he loved well,Pocahontas, which may signify a little wanton; howbeyt she wasrightly called Amonata at more ripe years."

The Indian girls married very young. The polygamous Powhatan had alarge number of wives, but of all his women, his favorites were adozen "for the most part very young women," the names of whomStrachey obtained from one Kemps, an Indian a good deal about camp,whom Smith certifies was a great villain. Strachey gives a list ofthe names of twelve of them, at the head of which is Winganuske.This list was no doubt written down by the author in Virginia, and itis followed by a sentence, quoted below, giving also the number ofPowhatan's children. The "great darling" in this list wasWinganuske, a sister of Machumps, who, according to Smith, murderedhis comrade in the Bermudas. Strachey writes:

"He [Powhatan] was reported by the said Kemps, as also by the IndianMachumps, who was sometyme in England, and comes to and fro amongstus as he dares, and as Powhatan gives him leave, for it is nototherwise safe for him, no more than it was for one Amarice, who hadhis braynes knockt out for selling but a baskett of corne, and lyingin the English fort two or three days without Powhatan's leave; I saythey often reported unto us that Powhatan had then lyving twentysonnes and ten daughters, besyde a young one by Winganuske, Machumpshis sister, and a great darling of the King's; and besides, youngePocohunta, a daughter of his, using sometyme to our fort in tymespast, nowe married to a private Captaine, called Kocoum, some twoyears since."

This passage is a great puzzle. Does Strachey intend to say thatPocahontas was married to an Iniaan named Kocoum? She might havebeen during the time after Smith's departure in 1609, and herkidnapping in 1613, when she was of marriageable age. We shall seehereafter that Powhatan, in 1614, said he had sold another favoritedaughter of his, whom Sir Thomas Dale desired, and who was not twelveyears of age, to be wife to a great chief. The term "privateCaptain" might perhaps be applied to an Indian chief. Smith, in his"General Historie,' says the Indians have "but few occasions to useany officers more than one commander, which commonly they callWerowance, or Caucorouse, which is Captaine." It is probably notpossible, with the best intentions, to twist Kocoum into Caucorouse,or to suppose that Strachey intended to say that a private captainwas called in Indian a Kocoum. Werowance and Caucorouse are notsynonymous terms. Werowance means "chief," and Caucorouse means"talker" or "orator," and is the original of our word "caucus."

Either Strachey was uninformed, or Pocahontas was married to anIndian—a not violent presumption considering her age and the factthat war between Powhatan and the whites for some time had cut offintercourse between them—or Strachey referred to her marriage withRolfe, whom he calls by mistake Kocoum. If this is to be accepted,then this paragraph must have been written in England in 1616, andhave referred to the marriage to Rolfe it "some two years since," in1614.

That Pocahontas was a gentle-hearted and pleasing girl, and, throughher acquaintance with Smith, friendly to the whites, there is nodoubt; that she was not different in her habits and mode of life fromother Indian girls, before the time of her kidnapping, there is everyreason to suppose. It was the English who magnified the imperialismof her father, and exaggerated her own station as Princess. Shecertainly put on no airs of royalty when she was "cart-wheeling"about the fort. Nor does this detract anything from the nativedignity of the mature, and converted, and partially civilized woman.

We should expect there would be the discrepancies which have beennoticed in the estimates of her age. Powhatan is not said to havekept a private secretary to register births in his family. IfPocahontas gave her age correctly, as it appears upon her Londonportrait in 1616, aged twenty-one, she must have been eighteen yearsof age when she was captured in 1613 This would make her about twelveat the time of Smith's captivity in 1607-8. There is certainly roomfor difference of opinion as to whether so precocious a woman, as herintelligent apprehension of affairs shows her to have been, shouldhave remained unmarried till the age of eighteen. In marrying atleast as early as that she would have followed the custom of hertribe. It is possible that her intercourse with the whites hadraised her above such an alliance as would be offered her at thecourt of Werowocomoco.

We are without any record of the life of Pocahontas for some years.The occasional mentions of her name in the "General Historie" are soevidently interpolated at a late date, that they do not aid us. Whenand where she took the name of Matoaka, which appears upon her Londonportrait, we are not told, nor when she was called Amonata, asStrachey says she was "at more ripe yeares." How she was occupiedfrom the departure of Smith to her abduction, we can only guess. Tofollow her authentic history we must take up the account of CaptainArgall and of Ralph Hamor, Jr., secretary of the colony underGovernor Dale.

Captain Argall, who seems to have been as bold as he was unscrupulousin the execution of any plan intrusted to him, arrived in Virginia inSeptember, 1612, and early in the spring of 1613 he was sent on anexpedition up the Patowomek to trade for corn and to effect a capturethat would bring Powhatan to terms. The Emperor, from being afriend, had become the most implacable enemy of the English. CaptainArgall says: "I was told by certain Indians, my friends, that thegreat Powhatan's daughter Pokahuntis was with the great KingPotowomek, whither I presently repaired, resolved to possess myselfof her by any stratagem that I could use, for the ransoming of somany Englishmen as were prisoners with Powhatan, as also to get sucharmes and tooles as he and other Indians had got by murther andstealing some others of our nation, with some quantity of corn forthe colonies relief."

By the aid of Japazeus, King of Pasptancy, an old acquaintance andfriend of Argall's, and the connivance of the King of Potowomek,Pocahontas was enticed on board Argall's ship and secured. Word wassent to Powhatan of the capture and the terms on which his daughterwould be released; namely, the return of the white men he held inslavery, the tools and arms he had gotten and stolen, and a greatquantity of corn. Powhatan, "much grieved," replied that if Argallwould use his daughter well, and bring the ship into his river andrelease her, he would accede to all his demands. Therefore, on the13th of April, Argall repaired to Governor Gates at Jamestown, anddelivered his prisoner, and a few days after the King sent home someof the white captives, three pieces, one broad-axe, a long whip-saw,and a canoe of corn. Pocahontas, however, was kept at Jamestown.

Why Pocahontas had left Werowocomoco and gone to stay with Patowomekwe can only conjecture. It is possible that Powhatan suspected herfriendliness to the whites, and was weary of her importunity, and itmay be that she wanted to escape the sight of continual fighting,ambushes, and murders. More likely she was only making a commonfriendly visit, though Hamor says she went to trade at an Indianfair.

The story of her capture is enlarged and more minutely related by
Ralph Hamor, Jr., who was one of the colony shipwrecked on the
Bermudas in 1609, and returned to England in 1614, where he published
(London, 1615) "A True Discourse of Virginia, and the Success of the
Affairs there till the 18th of June, 1614." Hamor was the son of a
merchant tailor in London who was a member of the Virginia company.
Hamor writes:

"It chanced Powhatan's delight and darling, his daughter Pocahuntas(whose fame has even been spread in England by the title ofNonparella of Firginia) in her princely progresse if I may so termeit, tooke some pleasure (in the absence of Captaine Argall) to beamong her friends at Pataomecke (as it seemeth by the relation Ihad), implored thither as shopkeeper to a Fare, to exchange some ofher father's commodities for theirs, where residing some three monthsor longer, it fortuned upon occasion either of promise or profit,Captaine Argall to arrive there, whom Pocahuntas, desirous to renewher familiaritie with the English, and delighting to see them asunknown, fearefull perhaps to be surprised, would gladly visit as shedid, of whom no sooner had Captaine Argall intelligence, but he deltwith an old friend Iapazeus, how and by what meanes he might procureher caption, assuring him that now or never, was the time to pleasurehim, if he intended indeede that love which he had made professionof, that in ransome of hir he might redeeme some of our English menand armes, now in the possession of her father, promising to use herwithall faire and gentle entreaty; Iapazeus well assured that hisbrother, as he promised, would use her courteously, promised his bestendeavors and service to accomplish his desire, and thus wrought it,making his wife an instrument (which sex have ever been most powerfulin beguiling inticements) to effect his plot which hee had thus laid,he agreed that himself, his wife and Pocahuntas, would accompanie hisbrother to the water side, whither come, his wife should faine agreat and longing desire to goe aboorde, and see the shippe, whichbeing there three or four times before she had never seene, andshould be earnest with her husband to permit her—he seemed angrywith her, making as he pretended so unnecessary request, especiallybeing without the company of women, which denial she taking unkindly,must faine to weepe (as who knows not that women can command teares)whereupon her husband seeming to pitty those counterfeit teares, gaveher leave to goe aboord, so that it would pleese Pocahuntas toaccompany her; now was the greatest labour to win her, guilty perhapsof her father's wrongs, though not knowne as she supposed, to goewith her, yet by her earnest persuasions, she assented: so forthwithaboord they went, the best cheere that could be made was seasonablyprovided, to supper they went, merry on all hands, especiallyIapazeus and his wife, who to expres their joy would ere be treadingupon Captaine Argall's foot, as who should say tis don, she is yourown. Supper ended Pocahuntas was lodged in the gunner's roome, butIapazeus and his wife desired to have some conference with theirbrother, which was onely to acquaint him by what stratagem they hadbetraied his prisoner as I have already related: after whichdiscourse to sleepe they went, Pocahuntas nothing mistrusting thispolicy, who nevertheless being most possessed with feere, and desireof returne, was first up, and hastened Iapazeus to be gon. Capt.Argall having secretly well rewarded him, with a small Copper kittle,and some other les valuable toies so highly by him esteemed, thatdoubtlesse he would have betraied his own father for them, permittedboth him and his wife to returne, but told him that for diversconsiderations, as for that his father had then eigh [8] of ourEnglishe men, many swords, peeces, and other tooles, which he hid atseverall times by trecherous murdering our men, taken from them whichthough of no use to him, he would not redeliver, he would reservePocahuntas, whereat she began to be exceeding pensive, anddiscontented, yet ignorant of the dealing of Japazeus who in outwardappearance was no les discontented that he should be the meanes ofher captivity, much adoe there was to pursuade her to be patient,which with extraordinary curteous usage, by little and little waswrought in her, and so to Jamestowne she was brought."

Smith, who condenses this account in his "General Historie,"expresses his contempt of this Indian treachery by saying: "The oldJew and his wife began to howle and crie as fast as Pocahuntas." Itwill be noted that the account of the visit (apparently alone) ofPocahontas and her capture is strong evidence that she was not atthis time married to "Kocoum" or anybody else.

Word was despatched to Powhatan of his daughter's duress, with ademand made for the restitution of goods; but although this savage isrepresented as dearly loving Pocahontas, his "delight and darling,"it was, according to Hamor, three months before they heard anythingfrom him. His anxiety about his daughter could not have beenintense. He retained a part of his plunder, and a message was sentto him that Pocahontas would be kept till he restored all the arms.

This answer pleased Powhatan so little that they heard nothing fromhim till the following March. Then Sir Thomas Dale and CaptainArgall, with several vessels and one hundred and fifty men, went upto Powhatan's chief seat, taking his daughter with them, offering theIndians a chance to fight for her or to take her in peace onsurrender of the stolen goods. The Indians received this withbravado and flights of arrows, reminding them of the fate of CaptainRatcliffe. The whites landed, killed some Indians, burnt fortyhouses, pillaged the village, and went on up the river and came toanchor in front of Matchcot, the Emperor's chief town. Here wereassembled four hundred armed men, with bows and arrows, who daredthem to come ashore. Ashore they went, and a palaver was held. TheIndians wanted a day to consult their King, after which they wouldfight, if nothing but blood would satisfy the whites.

Two of Powhatan's sons who were present expressed a desire to seetheir sister, who had been taken on shore. When they had sight ofher, and saw how well she was cared for, they greatly rejoiced andpromised to persuade their father to redeem her and conclude alasting peace. The two brothers were taken on board ship, and MasterJohn Rolfe and Master Sparkes were sent to negotiate with the King.Powhatan did not show himself, but his brother Apachamo, hissuccessor, promised to use his best efforts to bring about a peace,and the expedition returned to Jamestown.

Long before this time," Hamor relates, "a gentleman of approvedbehaviour and honest carriage, Master John Rolfe, had been in lovewith Pocahuntas and she with him, which thing at the instant that wewere in parlee with them, myselfe made known to Sir Thomas Dale, by aletter from him [Rolfe] whereby he entreated his advice andfurtherance to his love, if so it seemed fit to him for the good ofthe Plantation, and Pocahuntas herself acquainted her brethrentherewith." Governor Dale approved this, and consequently waswilling to retire without other conditions. "The bruite of thispretended marriage [Hamor continues] came soon to Powhatan'sknowledge, a thing acceptable to him, as appeared by his suddenconsent thereunto, who some ten daies after sent an old uncle ofhirs, named Opachisco, to give her as his deputy in the church, andtwo of his sonnes to see the mariage solemnized which was accordinglydone about the fifth of April [1614], and ever since we have hadfriendly commerce and trade, not only with Powhatan himself, but alsowith his subjects round about us; so as now I see no reason why thecollonie should not thrive a pace."

This marriage was justly celebrated as the means and beginning of afirm peace which long continued, so that Pocahontas was againentitled to the grateful remembrance of the Virginia settlers.Already, in 1612, a plan had been mooted in Virginia of marrying theEnglish with the natives, and of obtaining the recognition ofPowhatan and those allied to him as members of a fifth kingdom, withcertain privileges. Cunega, the Spanish ambassador at London, onSeptember 22, 1612, writes: "Although some suppose the plantation todecrease, he is credibly informed that there is a determination tomarry some of the people that go over to Virginia; forty or fifty arealready so married, and English women intermingle and are receivedkindly by the natives. A zealous minister hath been wounded forreprehending it."

Mr. John Rolfe was a man of industry, and apparently devoted to thewelfare of the colony. He probably brought with him in 1610 hiswife, who gave birth to his daughter Bermuda, born on the SomersIslands at the time of the shipwreck. We find no notice of herdeath. Hamor gives him the distinction of being the first in thecolony to try, in 1612, the planting and raising of tobacco. "No man[he adds] hath labored to his power, by good example there and worthyencouragement into England by his letters, than he hath done, witnesshis marriage with Powhatan's daughter, one of rude education, mannersbarbarous and cursed generation, meerely for the good and honor ofthe plantation: and least any man should conceive that some sinisterrespects allured him hereunto, I have made bold, contrary to hisknowledge, in the end of my treatise to insert the true coppie of hisletter written to Sir Thomas Dale."

The letter is a long, labored, and curious document, and comes nearerto a theological treatise than any love-letter we have on record. Itreeks with unction. Why Rolfe did not speak to Dale, whom he sawevery day, instead of inflicting upon him this painful document, inwhich the flutterings of a too susceptible widower's heart are hiddenunder a great resolve of self-sacrifice, is not plain.

The letter protests in a tedious preamble that the writer is movedentirely by the Spirit of God, and continues:

"Let therefore this my well advised protestation, which here I makebetween God and my own conscience, be a sufficient witness, at thedreadful day of judgment (when the secrets of all men's hearts shallbe opened) to condemne me herein, if my chiefest interest and purposebe not to strive with all my power of body and mind, in theundertaking of so weighty a matter, no way led (so far forth as man'sweakness may permit) with the unbridled desire of carnall affection;but for the good of this plantation, for the honour of our countrie,for the glory of God, for my owne salvation, and for the convertingto the true knowledge of God and Jesus Christ, an unbelievingcreature, namely Pokahuntas. To whom my heartie and best thoughtsare, and have a long time bin so entangled, and inthralled in sointricate a laborinth, that I was even awearied to unwinde myselfthereout."

Master Rolfe goes on to describe the mighty war in his meditations onthis subject, in which he had set before his eyes the frailty ofmankind and his proneness to evil and wicked thoughts. He is awareof God's displeasure against the sons of Levi and Israel for marryingstrange wives, and this has caused him to look about warily and withgood circ*mspection "into the grounds and principall agitations whichshould thus provoke me to be in love with one, whose education hathbin rude, her manners barbarous, her generation accursed, and sodiscrepant in all nurtriture from myselfe, that oftentimes with feareand trembling, I have ended my private controversie with this: surelythese are wicked instigations, fetched by him who seeketh anddelighteth in man's distruction; and so with fervent prayers to beever preserved from such diabolical assaults (as I looke those to be)I have taken some rest."

The good man was desperately in love and wanted to marry the Indian,and consequently he got no peace; and still being tormented with herimage, whether she was absent or present, he set out to produce aningenious reason (to show the world) for marrying her. He continues:

"Thus when I thought I had obtained my peace and quietnesse, beholdeanother, but more gracious tentation hath made breaches into myholiest and strongest meditations; with which I have been put to anew triall, in a straighter manner than the former; for besides theweary passions and sufferings which I have dailey, hourely, yea andin my sleepe indured, even awaking me to astonishment, taxing me withremissnesse, and carelessnesse, refusing and neglecting to performthe duteie of a good Christian, pulling me by the eare, and crying:Why dost thou not indeavor to make her a Christian? And these havehappened to my greater wonder, even when she hath been furthestseperated from me, which in common reason (were it not an undoubtedwork of God) might breede forgetfulnesse of a far more worthiecreature."

He accurately describes the symptoms and appears to understand theremedy, but he is after a large-sized motive:

"Besides, I say the holy Spirit of God hath often demanded of me, whyI was created? If not for transitory pleasures and worldly vanities,but to labour in the Lord's vineyard, there to sow and plant, tonourish and increase the fruites thereof, daily adding with the goodhusband in the gospell, somewhat to the tallent, that in the ends thefruites may be reaped, to the comfort of the labourer in this life,and his salvation in the world to come…. Likewise, adding hereuntoher great appearance of love to me, her desire to be taught andinstructed in the knowledge of God, her capablenesse ofunderstanding, her aptness and willingness to receive anie goodimpression, and also the spirituall, besides her owne incitementsstirring me up hereunto.,'

The "incitements" gave him courage, so that he exclaims: "Shall I beof so untoward a disposition, as to refuse to lead the blind into theright way? Shall I be so unnatural, as not to give bread to thehungrie, or uncharitable, as not to cover the naked?"

It wasn't to be thought of, such wickedness; and so Master Rolfescrewed up his courage to marry the glorious Princess, from whomthousands of people were afterwards so anxious to be descended. Buthe made the sacrifice for the glory of the country, the benefit ofthe plantation, and the conversion of the unregenerate, and other andlower motive he vigorously repels: "Now, if the vulgar sort, whosquare all men's actions by the base rule of their own filthinesse,shall tax or taunt mee in this my godly labour: let them know it isnot hungry appetite, to gorge myselfe with incontinency; sure (if Iwould and were so sensually inclined) I might satisfy such desire,though not wiihout a seared conscience, yet with Christians morepleasing to the eie, and less fearefull in the offense unlawfullycommitted. Nor am I in so desperate an estate, that I regard notwhat becometh of me; nor am I out of hope but one day to see mycountry, nor so void of friends, nor mean in birth, but there toobtain a mach to my great con'tent…. But shall it please God thusto dispose of me (which I earnestly desire to fulfill my ends beforeset down) I will heartily accept of it as a godly taxe appointed me,and I will never cease (God assisting me) untill I have accomplished,and brought to perfection so holy a worke, in which I will daily prayGod to bless me, to mine and her eternal happiness."

It is to be hoped that if sanctimonious John wrote any love-lettersto Amonata they had less cant in them than this. But it was pleasingto Sir Thomas Dale, who was a man to appreciate the high motives ofMr. Rolfe. In a letter which he despatched from Jamestown, June 18,1614, to a reverend friend in London, he describes the expeditionwhen Pocahontas was carried up the river, and adds the informationthat when she went on shore, "she would not talk to any of them,scarcely to them of the best sort, and to them only, that if herfather had loved her, he would not value her less than old swords,pieces, or axes; wherefore she would still dwell with the Englishmenwho loved her."

"Powhatan's daughter [the letter continues] I caused to be carefullyinstructed in Christian Religion, who after she had made some goodprogress therein, renounced publically her countrey idolatry, openlyconfessed her Christian faith, was, as she desired, baptized, and issince married to an English Gentleman of good understanding (as byhis letter unto me, containing the reasons for his marriage of heryou may perceive), an other knot to bind this peace the stronger.Her father and friends gave approbation to it, and her uncle gave herto him in the church; she lives civilly and lovingly with him, and Itrust will increase in goodness, as the knowledge of God increasethin her. She will goe into England with me, and were it but thegayning of this one soule, I will think my time, toile, and presentstay well spent."

Hamor also appends to his narration a short letter, of the same datewith the above, from the minister Alexander Whittaker, thegenuineness of which is questioned. In speaking of the good deeds ofSir Thomas Dale it says: "But that which is best, one Pocahuntas orMatoa, the daughter of Powhatan, is married to an honest and discreetEnglish Gentleman—Master Rolfe, and that after she had openlyrenounced her countrey Idolatry, and confessed the faith of JesusChrist, and was baptized, which thing Sir Thomas Dale had laboured along time to ground her in." If, as this proclaims, she was marriedafter her conversion, then Rolfe's tender conscience must have givenhim another twist for wedding her, when the reason for marrying her(her conversion) had ceased with her baptism. His marriage,according to this, was a pure work of supererogation. It took placeabout the 5th of April, 1614. It is not known who performed theceremony.

How Pocahontas passed her time in Jamestown during the period of herdetention, we are not told. Conjectures are made that she was aninmate of the house of Sir Thomas Dale, or of that of the Rev. Mr.Whittaker, both of whom labored zealously to enlighten her mind onreligious subjects. She must also have been learning English andcivilized ways, for it is sure that she spoke our language very wellwhen she went to London. Mr. John Rolfe was also laboring for herconversion, and we may suppose that with all these ministrations,mingled with her love of Mr. Rolfe, which that ingenious widower haddiscovered, and her desire to convert him into a husband, she was notan unwilling captive. Whatever may have been her barbarousinstincts, we have the testimony of Governor Dale that she lived"civilly and lovingly" with her husband.

XVI

STORY OF POCAHONTAS, CONTINUED

Sir Thomas Dale was on the whole the most efficient and discreetGovernor the colony had had. One element of his success was no doubtthe change in the charter of 1609. By the first charter everythinghad been held in common by the company, and there had been nodivision of property or allotment of land among the colonists. Underthe new regime land was held in severalty, and the spur of individualinterest began at once to improve the condition of the settlement.The character of the colonists was also gradually improving. Theyhad not been of a sort to fulfill the earnest desire of the Londonpromoter's to spread vital piety in the New World. A zealous defenseof Virginia and Maryland, against "scandalous imputation," entitled "Leah and Rachel; or, The Two Fruitful Sisters," by Mr. John Hammond,London, 1656, considers the charges that Virginia "is an unhealthyplace, a nest of rogues, abandoned women, dissolut and rookerypersons; a place of intolerable labour, bad usage and hard diet"; andadmits that "at the first settling, and for many years after, itdeserved most of these aspersions, nor were they then aspersions buttruths…. There were jails supplied, youth seduced, infamous womendrilled in, the provision all brought out of England, and thatembezzled by the Trustees."

Governor Dale was a soldier; entering the army in the Netherlands asa private he had risen to high position, and received knighthood in1606. Shortly after he was with Sir Thomas Gates in South Holland.The States General in 1611 granted him three years' term of absencein Virginia. Upon his arrival he began to put in force that systemof industry and frugality he had observed in Holland. He had all theimperiousness of a soldier, and in an altercation with CaptainNewport, occasioned by some injurious remarks the latter made aboutSir Thomas Smith, the treasurer, he pulled his beard and threatenedto hang him. Active operations for settling new plantations were atonce begun, and Dale wrote to Cecil, the Earl of Salisbury, for 2,000good colonists to be sent out, for the three hundred that came were"so profane, so riotous, so full of mutiny, that not many areChristians but in name, their bodies so diseased and crazed that notsixty of them may be employed." He served afterwards with credit inHolland, was made commander of the East Indian fleet in 1618, had anaval engagement with the Dutch near Bantam in 1619, and died in 1620from the effects of the climate. He was twice married, and hissecond wife, Lady Fanny, the cousin of his first wife, survived himand received a patent for a Virginia plantation.

Governor Dale kept steadily in view the conversion of the Indians toChristianity, and the success of John Rolfe with Matoaka inspired himwith a desire to convert another daughter of Powhatan, of whoseexquisite perfections he had heard. He therefore despatched RalphHamor, with the English boy, Thomas Savage, as interpreter, on amission to the court of Powhatan, "upon a message unto him, which wasto deale with him, if by any means I might procure a daughter of his,who (Pocahuntas being already in our possession) is generallyreported to be his delight and darling, and surely he esteemed her ashis owne Soule, for surer pledge of peace." This visit Hamor relateswith great naivete.

At his town of Matchcot, near the head of York River, Powhatanhimself received his visitors when they landed, with greatcordiality, expressing much pleasure at seeing again the boy who hadbeen presented to him by Captain Newport, and whom he had not seensince he gave him leave to go and see his friends at Jamestown fouryears before; he also inquired anxiously after Namontack, whom he hadsent to King James's land to see him and his country and reportthereon, and then led the way to his house, where he sat down on hisbedstead side. "On each hand of him was placed a comely andpersonable young woman, which they called his Queenes, the howsewithin round about beset with them, the outside guarded with ahundred bowmen."

The first thing offered was a pipe of tobacco, which Powhatan "firstdrank," and then passed to Hamor, who "drank" what he pleased andthen returned it. The Emperor then inquired how his brother SirThomas Dale fared, "and after that of his daughter's welfare, hermarriage, his unknown son, and how they liked, lived and lovedtogether." Hamor replied "that his brother was very well, and hisdaughter so well content that she would not change her life to returnand live with him, whereat he laughed heartily, and said he was veryglad of it."

Powhatan then desired to know the cause of his unexpected coming, andMr. Hamor said his message was private, to be delivered to himwithout the presence of any except one of his councilors, and one ofthe guides, who already knew it.

Therefore the house was cleared of all except the two Queens, who maynever sequester themselves, and Mr. Hamor began his palaver. Firstthere was a message of love and inviolable peace, the production ofpresents of coffee, beads, combs, fish-hooks, and knives, and thepromise of a grindstone when it pleased the Emperor to send for it.Hamor then proceeded:

"The bruite of the exquesite perfection of your youngest daughter,being famous through all your territories, hath come to the hearingof your brother, Sir Thomas Dale, who for this purpose hath addressedme hither, to intreate you by that brotherly friendship you makeprofession of, to permit her (with me) to returne unto him, partlyfor the desire which himselfe hath, and partly for the desire hersister hath to see her of whom, if fame hath not been prodigall, aslike enough it hath not, your brother (by your favour) would gladlymake his nearest companion, wife and bed fellow [many times he wouldhave interrupted my speech, which I entreated him to heare out, andthen if he pleased to returne me answer], and the reason hereof is,because being now friendly and firmly united together, and made onepeople [as he supposeth and believes] in the bond of love, he wouldmake a natural union between us, principally because himself hathtaken resolution to dwel in your country so long as he liveth, andwould not only therefore have the firmest assurance hee may, ofperpetuall friendship from you, but also hereby binde himselfethereunto."

Powhatan replied with dignity that he gladly accepted the salute oflove and peace, which he and his subjects would exactly maintain.But as to the other matter he said: "My daughter, whom my brotherdesireth, I sold within these three days to be wife to a greatWeroance for two bushels of Roanoke [a small kind of beads made ofoyster shells], and it is true she is already gone with him, threedays' journey from me."

Hamor persisted that this marriage need not stand in the way; "thatif he pleased herein to gratify his Brother he might, restoring theRoanoke without the imputation of injustice, take home his daughteragain, the rather because she was not full twelve years old, andtherefore not marriageable; assuring him besides the bond of peace,so much the firmer, he should have treble the price of his daughterin beads, copper, hatchets, and many other things more useful forhim."

The reply of the noble old savage to this infamous demand ought tohave brought a blush to the cheeks of those who made it. He said heloved his daughter as dearly as his life; he had many children, buthe delighted in none so much as in her; he could not live if he didnot see her often, as he would not if she were living with thewhites, and he was determined not to put himself in their hands. Hedesired no other assurance of friendship than his brother had givenhim, who had already one of his daughters as a pledge, which wassufficient while she lived; "when she dieth he shall have anotherchild of mine." And then he broke forth in pathetic eloquence: "Ihold it not a brotherly part of your King, to desire to bereave me oftwo of my children at once; further give him to understand, that ifhe had no pledge at all, he should not need to distrust any injuryfrom me, or any under my subjection; there have been too many of hisand my men killed, and by my occasion there shall never be more; Iwhich have power to perform it have said it; no not though I shouldhave just occasion offered, for I am now old and would gladly end mydays in peace; so as if the English offer me any injury, my countryis large enough, I will remove myself farther from you."

The old man hospitably entertained his guests for a day or two,loaded them with presents, among which were two dressed buckskins,white as snow, for his son and daughter, and, requesting somearticles sent him in return, bade them farewell with this message toGovernor Dale: "I hope this will give him good satisfaction, if it donot I will go three days' journey farther from him, and never seeEnglishmen more." It speaks well for the temperate habits of thissavage that after he had feasted his guests, "he caused to be fetcheda great glass of sack, some three quarts or better, which CaptainNewport had given him six or seven years since, carefully preservedby him, not much above a pint in all this time spent, and gave eachof us in a great oyster shell some three spoonfuls."

We trust that Sir Thomas Dale gave a faithful account of all this tohis wife in England.

Sir Thomas Gates left Virginia in the spring of 1614 and neverreturned. After his departure scarcity and severity developed amutiny, and six of the settlers were executed. Rolfe was plantingtobacco (he has the credit of being the first white planter of it),and his wife was getting an inside view of Christian civilization.

In 1616 Sir Thomas Dale returned to England with his company and JohnRolfe and Pocahontas, and several other Indians. They reachedPlymouth early in June, and on the 20th Lord Carew made this note:"Sir Thomas Dale returned from Virginia; he hath brought divers menand women of thatt countrye to be educated here, and one Rolfe whomarried a daughter of Pohetan (the barbarous prince) calledPocahuntas, hath brought his wife with him into England." On the 22dSir John Chamberlain wrote to Sir Dudley Carlton that there were tenor twelve, old and young, of that country."

The Indian girls who came with Pocahontas appear to have been a greatcare to the London company. In May, 1620, is a record that thecompany had to pay for physic and cordials for one of them who hadbeen living as a servant in Cheapside, and was very weak of aconsumption. The same year two other of the maids were shipped offto the Bermudas, after being long a charge to the company, in thehope that they might there get husbands, "that after they wereconverted and had children, they might be sent to their country andkindred to civilize them." One of them was there married. Theattempt to educate them in England was not very successful, and aproposal to bring over Indian boys obtained this comment from SirEdwin Sandys:

"Now to send for them into England, and to have them educated here,he found upon experience of those brought by Sir Thomas Dale, mightbe far from the Christian work intended." One Nanamack, a ladbrought over by Lord Delaware, lived some years in houses where "heheard not much of religion but sins, had many times examples ofdrinking, swearing and like evils, ran as he was a mere Pagan," tillhe fell in with a devout family and changed his life, but died beforehe was baptized. Accompanying Pocahontas was a councilor ofPowhatan, one Tomocomo, the husband of one of her sisters, of whomPurchas says in his "Pilgrimes": "With this savage I have oftenconversed with my good friend Master Doctor Goldstone where he was afrequent geust, and where I have seen him sing and dance hisdiabolical measures, and heard him discourse of his country andreligion…. Master Rolfe lent me a discourse which I have in myPilgrimage delivered. And his wife did not only accustom herself tocivility, but still carried herself as the daughter of a king, andwas accordingly respected, not only by the Company which allowedprovision for herself and her son, but of divers particular personsof honor, in their hopeful zeal by her to advance Christianity. Iwas present when my honorable and reverend patron, the Lord Bishop ofLondon, Doctor King, entertained her with festival state and pompbeyond what I had seen in his great hospitality offered to otherladies. At her return towards Virginia she came at Gravesend to herend and grave, having given great demonstration of her Christiansincerity, as the first fruits of Virginia conversion, leaving here agoodly memory, and the hopes of her resurrection, her soul aspiringto see and enjoy permanently in heaven what here she had joyed tohear and believe of her blessed Saviour. Not such was Tomocomo, buta blasphemer of what he knew not and preferring his God to oursbecause he taught them (by his own so appearing) to wear their Devil-lock at the left ear; he acquainted me with the manner of that hisappearance, and believed that their Okee or Devil had taught themtheir husbandry."

Upon news of her arrival, Captain Smith, either to increase his ownimportance or because Pocahontas was neglected, addressed a letter or"little booke" to Queen Anne, the consort of King James. This letteris found in Smith's "General Historie" ( 1624), where it isintroduced as having been sent to Queen Anne in 1616. Probably hesent her such a letter. We find no mention of its receipt or of anyacknowledgment of it. Whether the "abstract" in the "GeneralHistorie" is exactly like the original we have no means of knowing.We have no more confidence in Smith's memory than we have in hisdates. The letter is as follows:

"To the most high and vertuous Princesse Queene Anne of Great
Brittaine.

Most ADMIRED QUEENE.

"The love I beare my God, my King and Countrie hath so oft emboldenedme in the worst of extreme dangers, that now honestie doth constrainemee presume thus farre beyond my selfe, to present your Majestie thisshort discourse: if ingratitude be a deadly poyson to all honestvertues, I must be guiltie of that crime if I should omit any meanesto bee thankful. So it is.

"That some ten yeeres agoe being in Virginia, and taken prisoner bythe power of Powhaten, their chiefe King, I received from this greatSalvage exceeding great courtesie, especially from his sonneNantaquaus, the most manliest, comeliest, boldest spirit, I ever sawin a Salvage and his sister Pocahontas, the Kings most deare and wel-beloved daughter, being but a childe of twelve or thirteen yeeres ofa*ge, whose compassionate pitifull heart, of desperate estate, gave memuch cause to respect her: I being the first Christian this proudKing and his grim attendants ever saw, and thus enthralled in theirbarbarous power, I cannot say I felt the least occasion of want thatwas in the power of those my mortall foes to prevent notwithstandingal their threats. After some six weeks fatting amongst those SalvageCourtiers, at the minute of my execution, she hazarded the beatingout of her owne braines to save mine, and not onely that, but soprevailed with her father, that I was safely conducted to Jamestowne,where I found about eight and thirty miserable poore and sickecreatures, to keepe possession of all those large territories ofVirginia, such was the weaknesse of this poore Commonwealth, as hadthe Salvages not fed us, we directly had starved.

"And this reliefe, most gracious Queene, was commonly brought us bythis Lady Pocahontas, notwithstanding all these passages wheninconstant Fortune turned our Peace to warre, this tender Virginwould still not spare to dare to visit us, and by her our jarres havebeen oft appeased, and our wants still supplyed; were it the policieof her father thus to imploy her, or the ordinance of God thus tomake her his instrument, or her extraordinarie affection to ourNation, I know not: but of this I am sure: when her father with theutmost of his policie and power, sought to surprize mee, having buteighteene with mee, the dark night could not affright her fromcomming through the irksome woods, and with watered eies gave meintilligence, with her best advice to escape his furie: which had heeknown hee had surely slaine her. Jamestowne with her wild traine sheas freely frequented, as her father's habitation: and during the timeof two or three yeares, she next under God, was still the instrumentto preserve this Colonie from death, famine and utter confusion,which if in those times had once beene dissolved, Virginia might havelaine as it was at our first arrivall to this day. Since then, thisbuisinesse having been turned and varied by many accidents from thatI left it at: it is most certaine, after a long and troublesome warreafter my departure, betwixt her father and our Colonie, all whichtime shee was not heard of, about two yeeres longer, the Colonie bythat meanes was releived, peace concluded, and at last rejecting herbarbarous condition, was maried to an English Gentleman, with whom atthis present she is in England; the first Christian ever of thatNation, the first Virginian ever spake English, or had a childe inmariage by an Englishman, a matter surely, if my meaning bee trulyconsidered and well understood, worthy a Princes understanding.

"Thus most gracious Lady, I have related to your Majestic, what atyour best leasure our approved Histories will account you at large,and done in the time of your Majesties life, and however this mightbee presented you from a more worthy pen, it cannot from a morehonest heart, as yet I never begged anything of the State, or any,and it is my want of abilitie and her exceeding desert, your birth,meanes, and authoritie, her birth, vertue, want and simplicitie, dothmake mee thus bold, humbly to beseech your Majestic: to take thisknowledge of her though it be from one so unworthy to be thereporter, as myselfe, her husband's estate not being able to make herfit to attend your Majestic: the most and least I can doe, is to tellyou this, because none so oft hath tried it as myselfe: and therather being of so great a spirit, however her station: if she shouldnot be well received, seeing this Kingdome may rightly have aKingdome by her meanes: her present love to us and Christianitie,might turne to such scorne and furie, as to divert all this good tothe worst of evill, when finding so great a Queene should doe hersome honour more than she can imagine, for being so kinde to yourservants and subjects, would so ravish her with content, as endeareher dearest bloud to effect that, your Majestic and all the Kingshonest subjects most earnestly desire: and so I humbly kisse yourgracious hands."

The passage in this letter, "She hazarded the beating out of her ownebraines to save mine," is inconsistent with the preceding portion ofthe paragraph which speaks of "the exceeding great courtesie" ofPowhatan; and Smith was quite capable of inserting it afterwards whenhe made up his

"General Historie."

Smith represents himself at this time—the last half of 1616 and thefirst three months of 1617—as preparing to attempt a third voyage toNew England (which he did not make), and too busy to do Pocahontasthe service she desired. She was staying at Branford, either fromneglect of the company or because the London smoke disagreed withher, and there Smith went to see her. His account of his intercoursewith her, the only one we have, must be given for what it is worth.According to this she had supposed Smith dead, and took umbrage athis neglect of her. He writes:

"After a modest salutation, without any word, she turned about,obscured her face, as not seeming well contented; and in that humour,her husband with divers others, we all left her two or three hoursrepenting myself to have writ she could speak English. But not longafter she began to talke, remembering me well what courtesies she haddone: saying, 'You did promise Powhatan what was yours should be his,and he the like to you; you called him father, being in his land astranger, and by the same reason so must I do you:' which though Iwould have excused, I durst not allow of that title, because she wasa king's daughter. With a well set countenance she said: 'Were younot afraid to come into my father's country and cause fear in him andall his people (but me), and fear you have I should call you father;I tell you then I will, and you shall call me childe, and so I willbe forever and ever, your contrieman. They did tell me alwaies youwere dead, and I knew no other till I came to Plymouth, yet Powhatandid command Uttamatomakkin to seek you, and know the truth, becauseyour countriemen will lie much."'

This savage was the Tomocomo spoken of above, who had been sent byPowhatan to take a census of the people of England, and report whatthey and their state were. At Plymouth he got a long stick and beganto make notches in it for the people he saw. But he was quicklyweary of that task. He told Smith that Powhatan bade him seek himout, and get him to show him his God, and the King, Queen, andPrince, of whom Smith had told so much. Smith put him off aboutshowing his God, but said he had heard that he had seen the King.This the Indian denied, James probably not coming up to his idea of aking, till by circ*mstances he was convinced he had seen him. Thenhe replied very sadly: "You gave Powhatan a white dog, which Powhatanfed as himself, but your king gave me nothing, and I am better thanyour white dog."

Smith adds that he took several courtiers to see Pocahontas, and"they did think God had a great hand in her conversion, and they haveseen many English ladies worse favoured, proportioned, andbehavioured;" and he heard that it had pleased the King and Queengreatly to esteem her, as also Lord and Lady Delaware, and otherpersons of good quality, both at the masques and otherwise.

Much has been said about the reception of Pocahontas in London, butthe contemporary notices of her are scant. The Indians were objectsof curiosity for a time in London, as odd Americans have often beensince, and the rank of Pocahontas procured her special attention.She was presented at court. She was entertained by Dr. King, Bishopof London. At the playing of Ben Jonson's "Christmas his Mask" atcourt, January 6, 1616-17, Pocahontas and Tomocomo were both present,and Chamberlain writes to Carleton: "The Virginian woman Pocahuntaswith her father counsellor have been with the King and graciouslyused, and both she and her assistant were pleased at the Masque. Sheis upon her return though sore against her will, if the wind wouldabout to send her away."

Mr. Neill says that "after the first weeks of her residence inEngland she does not appear to be spoken of as the wife of Rolfe bythe letter writers," and the Rev. Peter Fontaine says that "when theyheard that Rolfe had married Pocahontas, it was deliberated incouncil whether he had not committed high treason by so doing, thatis marrying an Indian princesse."

It was like James to think so. His interest in the colony was neverthe most intelligent, and apt to be in things trivial. LordSouthampton (Dec. 15, 1609) writes to Lord Salisbury that he had toldthe King of the Virginia squirrels brought into England, which aresaid to fly. The King very earnestly asked if none were provided forhim, and said he was sure Salisbury would get him one. Would nothave troubled him, "but that you know so well how he is affected tothese toys."

There has been recently found in the British Museum a print of aportrait of Pocahontas, with a legend round it in Latin, which istranslated: " Matoaka, alias Rebecka, Daughter of Prince Powhatan,Emperor of Virginia; converted to Christianity, married Mr. Rolff;died on shipboard at Gravesend 1617. This is doubtless the portraitengraved by Simon De Passe in 1616, and now inserted in the extantcopies of the London edition of the "General Historie," 1624. It isnot probable that the portrait was originally published with the"General Historie." The portrait inserted in the edition of 1624 hasthis inscription:

Round the portrait:

Matoaka als Rebecca Filia Potentiss Princ: Pohatani Imp: Virginim."

In the oval, under the portrait:

"Aetatis suae 21 A.
1616"
Below:

"Matoaks als Rebecka daughter to the mighty Prince PowhatanEmprour of Attanoughkomouck als virginia converted and baptized inthe Christian faith, and wife to the worth Mr. job Rolff.i: Pass: sculp. Compton Holland excud."

Camden in his "History of Gravesend" says that everybody paid thisyoung lady all imaginable respect, and it was believed she would havesufficiently acknowledged those favors, had she lived to return toher own country, by bringing the Indians to a kinder dispositiontoward the English; " and that she died, "giving testimony all thetime she lay sick, of her being a very good Christian."

The Lady Rebecka, as she was called in London, died on shipboard atGravesend after a brief illness, said to be of only three days,probably on the 21st of March, 1617. I have seen somewhere astatement, which I cannot confirm, that her disease was smallpox.St. George's Church, where she was buried, was destroyed by fire in1727. The register of that church has this record:

"1616, May 2j Rebecca Wrothe
Wyff of Thomas Wroth gent
A Virginia lady borne, here was buried
in ye chaunncle."

Yet there is no doubt, according to a record in the Calendar of StatePapers, dated "1617 29 March, London," that her death occurred March21, 1617.

John Rolfe was made Secretary of Virginia when Captain Argall becameGovernor, and seems to have been associated in the schemes of thatunscrupulous person and to have forfeited the good opinion of thecompany. August 23, 1618, the company wrote to Argall: "We cannotimagine why you should give us warning that Opechankano and thenatives have given the country to Mr. Rolfe's child, and that theyreserve it from all others till he comes of years except as wesuppose as some do here report it be a device of your own, to somespecial purpose for yourself." It appears also by the minutes of thecompany in 1621 that Lady Delaware had trouble to recover goods ofhers left in Rolfe's hands in Virginia, and desired a commissiondirected to Sir Thomas Wyatt and Mr. George Sandys to examine whatgoods of the late "Lord Deleware had come into Rolfe's possession andget satisfaction of him." This George Sandys is the famous travelerwho made a journey through the Turkish Empire in 1610, and who wrote,while living in Virginia, the first book written in the New World,the completion of his translation of Ovid's "Metamorphosis."

John Rolfe died in Virginia in 1622, leaving a wife and children.This is supposed to be his third wife, though there is no note of hismarriage to her nor of the death of his first. October 7, 1622, hisbrother Henry Rolfe petitioned that the estate of John should beconverted to the support of his relict wife and children and to hisown indemnity for having brought up John's child by Powhatan'sdaughter.

This child, named Thomas Rolfe, was given after the death ofPocahontas to the keeping of Sir Lewis Stukely of Plymouth, who fellinto evil practices, and the boy was transferred to the guardianshipof his uncle Henry Rolfe, and educated in London. When he was grownup he returned to Virginia, and was probably there married. There ison record his application to the Virginia authorities in 1641 forleave to go into the Indian country and visit Cleopatra, his mother'ssister. He left an only daughter who was married, says Stith (1753),"to Col. John Bolling; by whom she left an only son, the late MajorJohn Bolling, who was father to the present Col. John Bolling, andseveral daughters, married to Col. Richard Randolph, Col. JohnFleming, Dr. William Gay, Mr. Thomas Eldridge, and Mr. James Murray."Campbell in his "History of Virginia" says that the first Randolphthat came to the James River was an esteemed and industriousmechanic, and that one of his sons, Richard, grandfather of thecelebrated John Randolph, married Jane Bolling, the greatgranddaughter of Pocahontas.

In 1618 died the great Powhatan, full of years and satiated withfighting and the savage delights of life. He had many names andtitles; his own people sometimes called him Ottaniack, sometimesMamauatonick, and usually in his presence Wahunsenasawk. He ruled,by inheritance and conquest, with many chiefs under him, over a largeterritory with not defined borders, lying on the James, the York, theRappahannock, the Potomac, and the Pawtuxet Rivers. He had severalseats, at which he alternately lived with his many wives and guard ofbowmen, the chief of which at the arrival of the English wasWerowomocomo, on the Pamunkey (York) River. His state has beensufficiently described. He is said to have had a hundred wives, andgenerally a dozen—the youngest—personally attending him. When hehad a mind to add to his harem he seems to have had the ancientoriental custom of sending into all his dominions for the fairestmaidens to be brought from whom to select. And he gave the wives ofwhom he was tired to his favorites.

Strachey makes a striking description of him as he appeared about1610: "He is a goodly old man not yet shrincking, though well beatenwith cold and stormeye winters, in which he hath been patient of manynecessityes and attempts of his fortune to make his name and famelygreat. He is supposed to be little lesse than eighty yeares old, Idare not saye how much more; others saye he is of a tall stature andcleane lymbes, of a sad aspect, rownd fatt visaged, with graiehaires, but plaine and thin, hanging upon his broad showlders; somefew haires upon his chin, and so on his upper lippe: he hath been astrong and able salvadge, synowye, vigilant, ambitious, subtile toenlarge his dominions:…. cruell he hath been, and quarellous aswell with his own wcrowanccs for trifles, and that to strike aterrour and awe into them of his power and condicion, as also withhis neighbors in his younger days, though now delighted in securityand pleasure, and therefore stands upon reasonable conditions ofpeace with all the great and absolute werowances about him, and islikewise more quietly settled amongst his own."

It was at this advanced age that he had the twelve favorite youngwives whom Strachey names. All his people obeyed him with fear andadoration, presenting anything he ordered at his feet, and tremblingif he frowned. His punishments were cruel; offenders were beaten todeath before him, or tied to trees and dismembered joint by joint, orbroiled to death on burning coals. Strachey wondered how such abarbarous prince should put on such ostentation of majesty, yet heaccounted for it as belonging to the necessary divinity that dothhedge in a king: "Such is (I believe) the impression of the divinenature, and however these (as other heathens forsaken by the truelight) have not that porcion of the knowing blessed Christianspiritt, yet I am perswaded there is an infused kind of divinitiesand extraordinary (appointed that it shall be so by the King ofkings) to such as are his ymedyate instruments on earth."

Here is perhaps as good a place as any to say a word or two about theappearance and habits of Powhatan's subjects, as they were observedby Strachey and Smith. A sort of religion they had, with priests orconjurors, and houses set apart as temples, wherein images were keptand conjurations performed, but the ceremonies seem not worship, butpropitiations against evil, and there seems to have been noconception of an overruling power or of an immortal life. Smithdescribes a ceremony of sacrifice of children to their deity; butthis is doubtful, although Parson Whittaker, who calls the Indians"naked slaves of the devil," also says they sacrificed sometimesthemselves and sometimes their own children. An image of their godwhich he sent to England "was painted upon one side of a toadstool,much like unto a deformed monster." And he adds: "Their priests,whom they call Quockosoughs, are no other but such as our Englishwitches are." This notion I believe also pertained among the NewEngland colonists. There was a belief that the Indian conjurors hadsome power over the elements, but not a well-regulated power, and intime the Indians came to a belief in the better effect of theinvocations of the whites. In "Winslow's Relation," quoted byAlexander Young in his " Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers," underdate of July, 1623, we read that on account of a great drought a fastday was appointed. When the assembly met the sky was clear. Theexercise lasted eight or nine hours. Before they broke up, owing toprayers the weather was overcast. Next day began a long gentle rain.This the Indians seeing, admired the goodness of our God: "showingthe difference between their conjuration and our invocation in thename of God for rain; theirs being mixed with such storms andtempests, as sometimes, instead of doing them good, it layeth thecorn flat on the ground; but ours in so gentle and seasonable amanner, as they never observed the like."

It was a common opinion of the early settlers in Virginia, as it wasof those in New England, that the Indians were born white, but thatthey got a brown or tawny color by the use of red ointments, made ofearth and the juice of roots, with which they besmear themselveseither according to the custom of the country or as a defense againstthe stinging of mosquitoes. The women are of the same hue as themen, says Strachey; "howbeit, it is supposed neither of themnaturally borne so discolored; for Captain Smith (lyving sometymesamongst them) affirmeth how they are from the womb indifferent white,but as the men, so doe the women," "dye and disguise themselves intothis tawny cowler, esteeming it the best beauty to be nearest such akind of murrey as a sodden quince is of," as the Greek women coloredtheir faces and the ancient Britain women dyed themselves with red;"howbeit [Strachey slyly adds] he or she that hath obtained theperfected art in the tempering of this collour with any better kindof earth, yearb or root preserves it not yet so secrett and preciousunto herself as doe our great ladyes their oyle of talchum, or otherpainting white and red, but they frindly communicate the secret andteach it one another."

Thomas Lechford in his "Plain Dealing; or Newes from New England,"London, 1642, says: "They are of complexion swarthy and tawny; theirchildren are borne white, but they bedawbe them with oyle and colorspresently."

The men are described as tall, straight, and of comely proportions;no beards; hair black, coarse, and thick; noses broad, flat, and fullat the end; with big lips and wide mouths', yet nothing so unsightlyas the Moors; and the women as having "handsome limbs, slender arms,pretty hands, and when they sing they have a pleasant tange in theirvoices. The men shaved their hair on the right side, the womenacting as barbers, and left the hair full length on the left side,with a lock an ell long." A Puritan divine—"New England'sPlantation, 1630"—says of the Indians about him, "their hair isgenerally black, and cut before like our gentlewomen, and one locklonger than the rest, much like to our gentlemen, which fashion Ithink came from hence into England."

Their love of ornaments is sufficiently illustrated by an extractfrom Strachey, which is in substance what Smith writes:

"Their eares they boare with wyde holes, commonly two or three, andin the same they doe hang chaines of stayned pearle braceletts, ofwhite bone or shreeds of copper, beaten thinne and bright, and woundeup hollowe, and with a grate pride, certaine fowles' legges, eagles,hawkes, turkeys, etc., with beasts clawes, bears, arrahacounes,squirrells, etc. The clawes thrust through they let hang upon thecheeke to the full view, and some of their men there be who willweare in these holes a small greene and yellow-couloured live snake,neere half a yard in length, which crawling and lapping himself abouthis neck oftentymes familiarly, he suffreeth to kisse his lippes.Others weare a dead ratt tyed by the tayle, and such likeconundrums."

This is the earliest use I find of our word "conundrum," and thesense it bears here may aid in discovering its origin.

Powhatan is a very large figure in early Virginia history, anddeserves his prominence. He was an able and crafty savage, and madea good fight against the encroachments of the whites, but he was nomatch for the crafty Smith, nor the double-dealing of the Christians.There is something pathetic about the close of his life, his sorrowfor the death of his daughter in a strange land, when he saw histerritories overrun by the invaders, from whom he only asked peace,and the poor privilege of moving further away from them into thewilderness if they denied him peace.

In the midst of this savagery Pocahontas blooms like a sweet, wildrose. She was, like the Douglas, "tender and true." Wantingapparently the cruel nature of her race generally, her heroicqualities were all of the heart. No one of all the contemporarywriters has anything but gentle words for her. Barbarous anduntaught she was like her comrades, but of a gentle nature. Strippedof all the fictions which Captain Smith has woven into her story, andall the romantic suggestions which later writers have indulged in,she appears, in the light of the few facts that industry is able togather concerning her, as a pleasing and unrestrained Indian girl,probablv not different from her savage sisters in her habits, butbright and gentle; struck with admiration at the appearance of thewhite men, and easily moved to pity them, and so inclined to agrowing and lasting friendship for them; tractable and apt to learnrefinements; accepting the new religion through love for those whotaught it, and finally becoming in her maturity a well-balanced,sensible, dignified Christian woman.

According to the long-accepted story of Pocahontas, she did somethingmore than interfere to save from barbarous torture and death astranger and a captive, who had forfeited his life by shooting thosewho opposed his invasion. In all times, among the most savage tribesand in civilized society, women have been moved to heavenly pity bythe sight of a prisoner, and risked life to save him—the impulse wasas natural to a Highland lass as to an African maid. Pocahontas wentfurther than efforts to make peace between the superior race and herown. When the whites forced the Indians to contribute from theirscanty stores to the support of the invaders, and burned theirdwellings and shot them on sight if they refused, the Indian maidsympathized with the exposed whites and warned them of stratagemsagainst them; captured herself by a base violation of the laws ofhospitality, she was easily reconciled to her situation, adopted thehabits of the foreigners, married one of her captors, and in peaceand in war cast in her lot with the strangers. History has notpreserved for us the Indian view of her conduct.

It was no doubt fortunate for her, though perhaps not for the colony,that her romantic career ended by an early death, so that she alwaysremains in history in the bloom of youth. She did not live to bepained by the contrast, to which her eyes were opened, between herown and her adopted people, nor to learn what things could be done inthe Christian name she loved, nor to see her husband in a lesshonorable light than she left him, nor to be involved in any way inthe frightful massacre of 1622. If she had remained in England afterthe novelty was over, she might have been subject to slights andmortifying neglect. The struggles of the fighting colony could havebrought her little but pain. Dying when she did, she rounded out oneof the prettiest romances of all history, and secured for her namethe affection of a great nation, whose empire has spared little thatbelonged to her childhood and race, except the remembrance of herfriendship for those who destroyed her people.

XVII

NEW ENGLAND ADVENTURES

Captain John Smith returned to England in the autumn of 1609, woundedin body and loaded with accusations of misconduct, concocted by hisfactious companions in Virginia. There is no record that thesecharges were ever considered by the London Company. Indeed, wecannot find that the company in those days ever took any action onthe charges made against any of its servants in Virginia. Men camehome in disgrace and appeared to receive neither vindication norcondemnation. Some sunk into private life, and others more pushingand brazen, like Ratcliffe, the enemy of Smith, got employment againafter a time. The affairs of the company seem to have been conductedwith little order or justice.

Whatever may have been the justice of the charges against Smith, hehad evidently forfeited the good opinion of the company as adesirable man to employ. They might esteem his energy and profit byhis advice and experience, but they did not want his services. Andin time he came to be considered an enemy of the company.

Unfortunately for biographical purposes, Smith's life is pretty mucha blank from 1609 to 1614. When he ceases to write about himself hepasses out of sight. There are scarcely any contemporary allusionsto his existence at this time. We may assume, however, from ourknowledge of his restlessness, ambition, and love of adventure, thathe was not idle. We may assume that he besieged the company with hisplans for the proper conduct of the settlement of Virginia; that hetalked at large in all companies of his discoveries, his exploits,which grew by the relating, and of the prospective greatness of thenew Britain beyond the Atlantic. That he wearied the Council by hisimportunity and his acquaintances by his hobby, we can also surmise.No doubt also he was considered a fanatic by those who failed tocomprehend the greatness of his schemes, and to realize, as he did,the importance of securing the new empire to the English before itwas occupied by the Spanish and the French. His conceit, hisboasting, and his overbearing manner, which no doubt was one of thecauses why he was unable to act in harmony with the other adventurersof that day, all told against him. He was that most uncomfortableperson, a man conscious of his own importance, and out of favor andout of money.

Yet Smith had friends, and followers, and men who believed in him.This is shown by the remarkable eulogies in verse from many pens,which he prefixes to the various editions of his many works. Theyseem to have been written after reading the manuscripts, and preparedto accompany the printed volumes and tracts. They all allude to theenvy and detraction to which he was subject, and which must haveamounted to a storm of abuse and perhaps ridicule; and they all taxthe English vocabulary to extol Smith, his deeds, and his works. Inputting forward these tributes of admiration and affection, as wellas in his constant allusion to the ill requital of his services, wesee a man fighting for his reputation, and conscious of the necessityof doing so. He is ever turning back, in whatever he writes, torehearse his exploits and to defend his motives.

The London to which Smith returned was the London of Shakespeare'sday; a city dirty, with ill-paved streets unlighted at night, nosidewalks, foul gutters, wooden houses, gable ends to the street, setthickly with small windows from which slops and refuse were at anymoment of the day or night liable to be emptied upon the heads of thepassers by; petty little shops in which were beginning to bedisplayed the silks and luxuries of the continent; a city crowded andgrowing rapidly, subject to pestilences and liable to sweepingconflagrations. The Thames had no bridges, and hundreds of boatsplied between London side and Southwark, where were most of thetheatres, the bull-baitings, the bear-fighting, the public gardens,the residences of the hussies, and other amusem*nts that Bankside,the resort of all classes bent on pleasure, furnished high or low.At no time before or since was there such fantastical fashion indress, both in cut and gay colors, nor more sumptuousness in costumeor luxury in display among the upper classes, and such squalor in lowlife. The press teemed with tracts and pamphlets, written inlanguage "as plain as a pikestaff," against the immoralities of thetheatres, those "seminaries of vice," and calling down the judgmentof God upon the cost and the monstrosities of the dress of both menand women; while the town roared on its way, warned by sermons, andinstructed in its chosen path by such plays and masques as BenJonson's "Pleasure reconciled to Virtue."

The town swarmed with idlers, and with gallants who wantedadvancement but were unwilling to adventure their ease to obtain it.There was much lounging in apothecaries' shops to smoke tobacco,gossip, and hear the news. We may be sure that Smith found manyauditors for his adventures and his complaints. There was a gooddeal of interest in the New World, but mainly still as a place wheregold and other wealth might be got without much labor, and as apossible short cut to the South Sea and Cathay. The vast number ofLondoners whose names appear in the second Virginia charter shows thereadiness of traders to seek profit in adventure. The stir for widerfreedom in religion and government increased with the activity ofexploration and colonization, and one reason why James finallyannulled the Virginia, charter was because he regarded the meetingsof the London Company as opportunities of sedition.

Smith is altogether silent about his existence at this time. We donot hear of him till 1612, when his "Map of Virginia" with hisdescription of the country was published at Oxford. The map had beenpublished before: it was sent home with at least a portion of thedescription of Virginia. In an appendix appeared (as has been said)a series of narrations of Smith's exploits, covering the rime he wasin Virginia, written by his companions, edited by his friend Dr.Symonds, and carefully overlooked by himself.

Failing to obtain employment by the Virginia company, Smith turnedhis attention to New England, but neither did the Plymouth companyavail themselves of his service. At last in 1614 he persuaded someLondon merchants to fit him out for a private trading adventure tothe coast of New England. Accordingly with two ships, at the chargeof Captain Marmaduke Roydon, Captain George Langam, Mr. John Buley,and William Skelton, merchants, he sailed from the Downs on the 3d ofMarch, 1614, and in the latter part of April "chanced to arrive inNew England, a part of America at the Isle of Monahiggan in 43 1/2 ofNortherly latitude." This was within the territory appropriated tothe second (the Plymouth) colony by the patent of 1606, which gaveleave of settlement between the 38th and 44th parallels.

Smith's connection with New England is very slight, and mainly thatof an author, one who labored for many years to excite interest in itby his writings. He named several points, and made a map of suchportion of the coast as he saw, which was changed from time to timeby other observations. He had a remarkable eye for topography, as isespecially evident by his map of Virginia. This New England coast isroughly indicated in Venazzani's Plot Of 1524, and better onMercator's of a few years later, and in Ortelius's "Theatrum OrbisTerarum " of 1570; but in Smith's map we have for the first time afair approach to the real contour.

Of Smith's English predecessors on this coast there is no room hereto speak. Gosnold had described Elizabeth's Isles, explorations andsettlements had been made on the coast of Maine by Popham andWeymouth, but Smith claims the credit of not only drawing the firstfair map of the coast, but of giving the name " New England " to whathad passed under the general names of Virginia, Canada, Norumbaga,etc.

Smith published his description of New England June 18, 1616, and itis in that we must follow his career. It is dedicated to the "high,hopeful Charles, Prince of Great Britain," and is prefaced by anaddress to the King's Council for all the plantations, and another toall the adventurers into New England. The addresses, as usual, callattention to his own merits. "Little honey [he writes] hath thathive, where there are more drones than bees; and miserable is thatland where more are idle than are well employed. If the endeavors ofthese vermin be acceptable, I hope mine may be excusable: though Iconfess it were more proper for me to be doing what I say thanwriting what I know. Had I returned rich I could not have erred; nowhaving only such food as came to my net, I must be taxed. But, Iwould my taxers were as ready to adventure their purses as I, purse,life, and all I have; or as diligent to permit the charge, as I knowthey are vigilant to reap the fruits of my labors." The value of thefisheries he had demonstrated by his catch; and he says, looking, asusual, to large results, "but because I speak so much of fishing, ifany mistake me for such a devote fisher, as I dream of nought else,they mistake me. I know a ring of gold from a grain of barley as wellas a goldsmith; and nothing is there to be had which fishing dothhinder, but further us to obtain."

John Smith first appears on the New England coast as a whale fisher.The only reference to his being in America in Josselyn's"Chronological Observations of America " is under the wrong year,1608: "Capt. John Smith fished now for whales at Monhiggen." Hesays: "Our plot there was to take whales, and made tryall of a Myneof gold and copper;" these failing they were to get fish and furs.Of gold there had been little expectation, and (he goes on) "we foundthis whale fishing a costly conclusion; we saw many, and spent muchtime in chasing them; but could not kill any; they being a kind ofJubartes, and not the whale that yeeldes finnes and oyle as weexpected." They then turned their attention to smaller fish, butowing to their late arrival and "long lingering about the whale"—chasing a whale that they could not kill because it was not the rightkind—the best season for fishing was passed. Nevertheless, theysecured some 40,000 cod—the figure is naturally raised to 6o,ooowhen Smith retells the story fifteen years afterwards.

But our hero was a born explorer, and could not be content with notexamining the strange coast upon which he found himself. Leaving hissailors to catch cod, he took eight or nine men in a small boat, andcruised along the coast, trading wherever he could for furs, of whichhe obtained above a thousand beaver skins; but his chance to tradewas limited by the French settlements in the east, by the presence ofone of Popham's ships opposite Monhegan, on the main, and by a coupleof French vessels to the westward. Having examined the coast fromPenobscot to Cape Cod, and gathered a profitable harvest from thesea, Smith returned in his vessel, reaching the Downs within sixmonths after his departure. This was his whole experience in NewEngland, which ever afterwards he regarded as particularly hisdiscovery, and spoke of as one of his children, Virginia being theother.

With the other vessel Smith had trouble. He accuses its master,Thomas Hunt, of attempting to rob him of his plots and observations,and to leave him "alone on a desolate isle, to the fury of famine,And all other extremities." After Smith's departure the rascallyHunt decoyed twenty-seven unsuspecting savages on board his ship andcarried them off to Spain, where he sold them as slaves. Hunt soldhis furs at a great profit. Smith's cargo also paid well: in hisletter to Lord Bacon in 1618 he says that with forty-five men he hadcleared L 1,500 in less than three months on a cargo of dried fishand beaver skins—a pound at that date had five times the purchasingpower of a pound now.

The explorer first landed on Monhegan, a small island in sight ofwhich in the war of 1812 occurred the lively little seafight of theAmerican Wasp and the British Frolic, in which the Wasp was thevictor, but directly after, with her prize, fell into the hands of anEnglish seventy-four.

He made certainly a most remarkable voyage in his open boat. BetweenPenobscot and Cape Cod (which he called Cape James) he says he sawforty several habitations, and sounded about twenty-five excellentharbors. Although Smith accepted the geographical notion of histime, and thought that Florida adjoined India, he declared thatVirginia was not an island, but part of a great continent, and hecomprehended something of the vastness of the country he was coastingalong, "dominions which stretch themselves into the main, God dothknow how many thousand miles, of which one could no more guess theextent and products than a stranger sailing betwixt England andFrance could tell what was in Spain, Italy, Germany, Bohemia,Hungary, and the rest." And he had the prophetic vision, which hemore than once refers to, of one of the greatest empires of the worldthat would one day arise here. Contrary to the opinion thatprevailed then and for years after, he declared also that New Englandwas not an island.

Smith describes with considerable particularity the coast, giving thenames of the Indian tribes, and cataloguing the native productions,vegetable and animal. He bestows his favorite names liberally uponpoints and islands—few of which were accepted. Cape Ann he calledfrom his charming Turkish benefactor, "Cape Tragabigzanda"; the threeislands in front of it, the "Three Turks' Heads"; and the Isles ofShoals he simply describes: "Smyth's Isles are a heape together, noneneare them, against Acconimticus." Cape Cod, which appears upon allthe maps before Smith's visit as "Sandy" cape, he says "is only aheadland of high hills of sand, overgrown with shrubbie pines, hurts[whorts, whortleberries] and such trash; but an excellent harbor forall weathers. This Cape is made by the maine Sea on the one side,and a great bay on the other in the form of a sickle."

A large portion of this treatise on New England is devoted to anargument to induce the English to found a permanent colony there, ofwhich Smith shows that he would be the proper leader. The mainstaple for the present would be fish, and he shows how Holland hasbecome powerful by her fisheries and the training of hardy sailors.The fishery would support a colony until it had obtained a goodfoothold, and control of these fisheries would bring more profit toEngland than any other occupation. There are other reasons than gainthat should induce in England the large ambition of founding a greatstate, reasons of religion and humanity, erecting towns, peoplingcountries, informing the ignorant, reforming things unjust, teachingvirtue, finding employment for the idle, and giving to the mothercountry a kingdom to attend her. But he does not expect the Englishto indulge in such noble ambitions unless he can show a profit inthem.

"I have not [he says] been so ill bred but I have tasted of plentyand pleasure, as well as want and misery; nor doth a necessity yet,nor occasion of discontent, force me to these endeavors; nor am Iignorant that small thank I shall have for my pains; or that manywould have the world imagine them to be of great judgment, that canbut blemish these my designs, by their witty objections anddetractions; yet (I hope) my reasons and my deeds will so prevailwith some, that I shall not want employment in these affairs to makethe most blind see his own senselessness and incredulity; hoping thatgain will make them affect that which religion, charity and thecommon good cannot…. For I am not so simple to think that ever anyother motive than wealth will ever erect there a Commonwealth; ordraw company from their ease and humours at home, to stay in NewEngland to effect any purpose."

But lest the toils of the new settlement should affright his readers,our author draws an idyllic picture of the simple pleasures whichnature and liberty afford here freely, but which cost so dearly inEngland. Those who seek vain pleasure in England take more pains toenjoy it than they would spend in New England to gain wealth, and yethave not half such sweet content. What pleasure can be more, heexclaims, when men are tired of planting vines and fruits andordering gardens, orchards and building to their mind, than "torecreate themselves before their owne doore, in their owne boatesupon the Sea, where man, woman and child, with a small hooke andline, by angling, may take divers sorts of excellent fish at theirpleasures? And is it not pretty sport, to pull up two pence, sixpence, and twelve pence as fast as you can hale and veere a line?…And what sport doth yield more pleasing content, and less hurt orcharge than angling with a hooke, and crossing the sweet ayre fromIsle to Isle, over the silent streams of a calme Sea? wherein themost curious may finde pleasure, profit and content."

Smith made a most attractive picture of the fertility of the soil andthe fruitfulness of the country. Nothing was too trivial to bementioned. "There are certain red berries called Alkermes which isworth ten shillings a pound, but of these hath been sold for thirtyor forty shillings the pound, may yearly be gathered a goodquantity." John Josselyn, who was much of the time in New Englandfrom 1638 to 1671 and saw more marvels there than anybody else everimagined, says, "I have sought for this berry he speaks of, as a manshould for a needle in a bottle of hay, but could never light uponit; unless that kind of Solomon's seal called by the English treacle-berry should be it."

Towards the last of August, 1614, Smith was back at Plymouth. He hadnow a project of a colony which he imparted to his friend SirFerdinand Gorges. It is difficult from Smith's various accounts tosay exactly what happened to him next. It would appear that hedeclined to go with an expedition of four ship which the Virginiacompany despatched in 1615, and incurred their ill-will by refusing,but he considered himself attached to the western or Plymouthcompany. Still he experienced many delays from them: they promisedfour ships to be ready at Plymouth; on his arrival "he found no suchmatter," and at last he embarked in a private expedition, to found acolony at the expense of Gorges, Dr. Sutliffe, Bishop o Exeter, and afew gentlemen in London. In January 1615, he sailed from Plymouthwith a ship Of 20 tons, and another of 50. His intention was, afterthe fishing was over, to remain in New England with only fifteen menand begin a colony.

These hopes were frustrated. When only one hundred and twentyleagues out all the masts of his vessels were carried away in astorm, and it was only by diligent pumping that he was able to keephis craft afloat and put back to Plymouth. Thence on the 24th ofJune he made another start in a vessel of sixty tons with thirty men.But ill-luck still attended him. He had a queer adventure withpirates. Lest the envious world should not believe his own story,Smith had Baker, his steward, and several of his crew examined beforea magistrate at Plymouth, December 8, 1615, who support his story bytheir testimony up to a certain point.

It appears that he was chased two days by one Fry, an English pirate,in a greatly superior vessel, heavily armed and manned. By reason ofthe foul weather the pirate could not board Smith, and his master,mate, and pilot, Chambers, Minter, and Digby, importuned him tosurrender, and that he should send a boat to the pirate, as Fry hadno boat. This singular proposal Smith accepted on condition Frywould not take anything that would cripple his voyage, or send moremen aboard (Smith furnishing the boat) than he allowed. Bakerconfessed that the quartermaster and Chambers received gold of thepirates, for what purpose it does not appear. They came on board,but Smith would not come out of his cabin to entertain them,"although a great many of them had been his sailors, and for his lovewould have wafted us to the Isle of Flowers."

Having got rid of the pirate Fry by this singular manner of receivinggold from him, Smith's vessel was next chased by two French piratesat Fayal. Chambers, Minter, and Digby again desired Smith to yield,but he threatened to blow up his ship if they did not stand to thedefense; and so they got clear of the French pirates. But more wereto come.

At "Flowers" they were chased by four French men-of-war. AgainChambers, Minter, and Digby importuned Smith to yield, and upon theconsideration that he could speak French, and that they wereProtestants of Rochelle and had the King's commission to takeSpaniards, Portuguese, and pirates, Smith, with some of his company,went on board one of the French ships. The next day the Frenchplundered Smith's vessel and distributed his crew among their ships,and for a week employed his boat in chasing all the ships that camein sight. At the end of this bout they surrendered her again to hercrew, with victuals but no weapons. Smith exhorted his officers toproceed on their voyage for fish, either to New England orNewfoundland. This the officers declined to do at first, but thesoldiers on board compelled them, and thereupon Captain Smith busiedhimself in collecting from the French fleet and sending on board hisbark various commodities that belonged to her—powder, match, books,instruments, his sword and dagger, bedding, aquavite, his commission,apparel, and many other things. These articles Chambers and theothers divided among themselves, leaving Smith, who was still onboard the Frenchman, only his waistcoat and breeches. The next day,the weather being foul, they ran so near the Frenchman as to endangertheir yards, and Chambers called to Captain Smith to come aboard orhe would leave him. Smith ordered him to send a boat; Chambersreplied that his boat was split, which was a lie, and told him tocome off in the Frenchman's boat. Smith said he could not commandthat, and so they parted. The English bark returned to Plymouth, andSmith was left on board the French man-of-war.

Smith himself says that Chambers had persuaded the French admiralthat if Smith was let to go on his boat he would revenge himself onthe French fisheries on the Banks.

For over two months, according to his narration, Smith was kept onboard the Frenchman, cruising about for prizes, "to manage theirfight against the Spaniards, and be in a prison when they took anyEnglish." One of their prizes was a sugar caraval from Brazil;another was a West Indian worth two hundred thousand crowns, whichhad on board fourteen coffers of wedges of silver, eight thousandroyals of eight, and six coffers of the King of Spain's treasure,besides the pillage and rich coffers of many rich passengers. TheFrench captain, breaking his promise to put Smith ashore at Fayal, atlength sent him towards France on the sugar caravel. When near thecoast, in a night of terrible storm, Smith seized a boat and escaped.It was a tempest that wrecked all the vessels on the coast, and fortwelve hours Smith was drifting about in his open boat, in momentaryexpectation of sinking, until he was cast upon the oozy isle of"Charowne," where the fowlers picked him up half dead with water,cold, and hunger, and he got to Rochelle, where he made complaint tothe Judge of Admiralty. Here he learned that the rich prize had beenwrecked in the storm and the captain and half the crew drowned. Butfrom the wreck of this great prize thirty-six thousand crowns' worthof jewels came ashore. For his share in this Smith put in his claimwith the English ambassador at Bordeaux. The Captain was hospitablytreated by the Frenchmen. He met there his old friend MasterCrampton, and he says: "I was more beholden to the Frenchmen thatescaped drowning in the man-of-war, Madam Chanoyes of Rotchell, andthe lawyers of Burdeaux, than all the rest of my countrymen I met inFrance." While he was waiting there to get justice, he saw the"arrival of the King's great marriage brought from Spain." This isall his reference to the arrival of Anne of Austria, eldest daughterof Philip III., who had been betrothed to Louis XIII. in 1612, one ofthe double Spanish marriages which made such a commotion in France.

Leaving his business in France unsettled (forever), Smith returned toPlymouth, to find his reputation covered with infamy and his clothes,books, and arms divided among the mutineers of his boat. Thechiefest of these he "laid by the heels," as usual, and the othersconfessed and told the singular tale we have outlined. It needs nocomment, except that Smith had a facility for unlucky adventuresunequaled among the uneasy spirits of his age. Yet he was as buoyantas a cork, and emerged from every disaster with more enthusiasm forhimself and for new ventures. Among the many glowing tributes tohimself in verse that Smith prints with this description is onesigned by a soldier, Edw. Robinson, which begins:

Oft thou hast led, when I brought up the Rere,
In bloody wars where thousands have been slaine."

This common soldier, who cannot help breaking out in poetry when hethinks of Smith, is made to say that Smith was his captain "in thefierce wars of Transylvania," and he apostrophizes him:

Thou that to passe the worlds foure parts dost deeme
No more, than ewere to goe to bed or drinke,
And all thou yet hast done thou dost esteeme
As nothing.

For mee: I not commend but much admire
Thy England yet unknown to passers by-her,
For it will praise itselfe in spight of me:
Thou, it, it, thou, to all posteritie."

XVIII

NEW ENGLAND'S TRIALS

Smith was not cast down by his reverses. No sooner had he laid hislatest betrayers by the heels than he set himself resolutely toobtain money and means for establishing a colony in New England, andto this project and the cultivation in England of interest in NewEngland he devoted the rest of his life.

His Map and Description of New England was published in 1616, and hebecame a colporteur of this, beseeching everywhere a hearing for hisnoble scheme. It might have been in 1617, while Pocahontas was aboutto sail for Virginia, or perhaps after her death, that he was againin Plymouth, provided with three good ships, but windbound for threemonths, so that the season being past, his design was frustrated, andhis vessels, without him, made a fishing expedition to Newfoundland.

It must have been in the summer of this year that he was at Plymouthwith divers of his personal friends, and only a hundred pounds amongthem all. He had acquainted the nobility with his projects, and wasafraid to see the Prince Royal before he had accomplished anything,"but their great promises were nothing but air to prepare the voyageagainst the next year." He spent that summer in the west of England,visiting "Bristol, Exeter, Bastable? Bodman, Perin, Foy, Milborow,Saltash, Dartmouth, Absom, Pattnesse, and the most of the gentry inCornwall and Devonshire, giving them books and maps," and incitingthem to help his enterprise.

So well did he succeed, he says, that they promised him twenty sailof ships to go with him the next year, and to pay him for his painsand former losses. The western commissioners, in behalf of thecompany, contracted with him, under indented articles, "to be admiralof that country during my life, and in the renewing of the letters-patent so to be nominated"; half the profits of the enterprise to betheirs, and half to go to Smith and his companions.

Nothing seems to have come out of this promising induction except thetitle of "Admiral of New England," which Smith straightway assumedand wore all his life, styling himself on the title-page ofeverything he printed, "Sometime Governor of Virginia and Admiral ofNew England." As the generous Captain had before this time assumedthis title, the failure of the contract could not much annoy him. Hehad about as good right to take the sounding name of Admiral asmerchants of the west of England had to propose to give it to him.

The years wore away, and Smith was beseeching aid, republishing hisworks, which grew into new forms with each issue, and no doubt makinghimself a bore wherever he was known. The first edition of "NewEngland's Trials"—by which he meant the various trials and attemptsto settle New England was published in 1620. It was to some extent arepetition of his "Description" of 1616. In it he made no referenceto Pocahontas. But in the edition of 1622, which is dedicated toCharles, Prince of Wales, and considerably enlarged, he drops intothis remark about his experience at Jamestown: "It Is true in ourgreatest extremitie they shot me, slue three of my men, and by thefolly of them that fled tooke me prisoner; yet God made Pocahontasthe king's daughter the meanes to deliver me: and thereby taught meto know their treacheries to preserve the rest. [This is evidentlyan allusion to the warning Pocahontas gave him at Werowocomoco.] Itwas also my chance in single combat to take the king of Paspaheghprisoner, and by keeping him, forced his subjects to work in chainstill I made all the country pay contribution having little elsewhereon to live."

This was written after he had heard of the horrible massacre of 1622at Jamestown, and he cannot resist the temptation to draw a contrastbetween the present and his own management. He explains that theIndians did not kill the English because they were Christians, but toget their weapons and commodities. How different it was when he wasin Virginia. "I kept that country with but 38, and had not to eatbut what we had from the savages. When I had ten men able to goabroad, our commonwealth was very strong: with such a number I rangedthat unknown country 14 weeks: I had but 18 to subdue them all."This is better than Sir John Falstaff. But he goes on: "When I firstwent to those desperate designes it cost me many a forgotten pound tohire men to go, and procrastination caused more run away than went.""Twise in that time I was President." [It will be remembered thatabout the close of his first year he gave up the command, for form'ssake, to Capt. Martin, for three hours, and then took it again.] "Torange this country of New England in like manner, I had but eight, asis said, and amongst their bruite conditions I met many of theirsilly encounters, and without any hurt, God be thanked." The valiantCaptain had come by this time to regard himself as the inventor anddiscoverer of Virginia and New England, which were explored andsettled at the cost of his private pocket, and which he is notashamed to say cannot fare well in his absence. Smith, with all hisgood opinion of himself, could not have imagined how delicious hischaracter would be to readers in after-times. As he goes on he warmsup: "Thus you may see plainly the yearly success from New England byVirginia, which hath been so costly to this kingdom and so dear tome.

By that acquaintance I have with them I may call them my children [hespent between two and three months on the New England coast] for theyhave been my wife, my hawks, my hounds, my cards, my dice, and totalmy best content, as indifferent to my heart as my left hand to myright…. Were there not one Englishman remaining I would yet beginagain as I did at the first; not that I have any secret encouragementfor any I protest, more than lamentable experiences; for all theirdiscoveries I can yet hear of are but pigs of my sowe: nor morestrange to me than to hear one tell me he hath gone from Billingateand discovered Greenwich!"

As to the charge that he was unfortunate, which we should think mighthave become current from the Captain's own narratives, he tells hismaligners that if they had spent their time as he had done, theywould rather believe in God than in their own calculations, andperadventure might have had to give as bad an account of theiractions. It is strange they should tax him before they have triedwhat he tried in Asia, Europe, and America, where he never needed toimportune for a reward, nor ever could learn to beg: "These sixteenyears I have spared neither pains nor money, according to my ability,first to procure his majesty's letters patent, and a Company here tobe the means to raise a company to go with me to Virginia [this isthe expedition of 1606 in which he was without command] as is said:which beginning here and there cost me near five years work, and morethan 500 pounds of my own estate, besides all the dangers, miseriesand encumbrances I endured gratis, where I stayed till I left 500better provided than ever I was: from which blessed Virgin (ere Ireturned) sprung the fortunate habitation of Somer Isles." "Ere Ireturned" is in Smith's best vein. The casual reader would certainlyconclude that the Somers Isles were somehow due to the providence ofJohn Smith, when in fact he never even heard that Gates and Smithwere shipwrecked there till he had returned to England, sent homefrom Virginia. Neill says that Smith ventured L 9 in the Virginiacompany! But he does not say where he got the money.

New England, he affirms, hath been nearly as chargeable to him andhis friends: he never got a shilling but it cost him a pound. Andnow, when New England is prosperous and a certainty, "what think youI undertook when nothing was known, but that there was a vast land."These are some of the considerations by which he urges the company tofit out an expedition for him: "thus betwixt the spur of desire andthe bridle of reason I am near ridden to death in a ring of despair;the reins are in your hands, therefore I entreat you to ease me."

The Admiral of New England, who since he enjoyed the title had hadneither ship, nor sailor, nor rod of land, nor cubic yard of saltwater under his command, was not successful in his several "Trials."And in the hodge-podge compilation from himself and others, which hehad put together shortly after,—the "General Historie," hepathetically exclaims: "Now all these proofs and this relation, I nowcalled New England's Trials. I caused two or three thousand of themto be printed, one thousand with a great many maps both of Virginiaand New England, I presented to thirty of the chief companies inLondon at their Halls, desiring either generally or particularly(them that would) to imbrace it and by the use of a stock of fivethousand pounds to ease them of the superfluity of most of theircompanies that had but strength and health to labor; near a year Ispent to understand their resolutions, which was to me a greater toiland torment, than to have been in New England about my business butwith bread and water, and what I could get by my labor; but inconclusion, seeing nothing would be effected I was contented as wellwith this loss of time and change as all the rest."

In his "Advertisem*nts" he says that at his own labor, cost, and losshe had "divulged more than seven thousand books and maps," in orderto influence the companies, merchants and gentlemen to make aplantation, but "all availed no more than to hew Rocks with Oister-shels."

His suggestions about colonizing were always sensible. But we canimagine the group of merchants in Cheapside gradually dissolving asSmith hove in sight with his maps and demonstrations.

In 1618, Smith addressed a letter directly to Lord Bacon, to whichthere seems to have been no answer. The body of it was acondensation of what he had repeatedly written about New England, andthe advantage to England of occupying the fisheries. "This nineteenyears," he writes, "I have encountered no few dangers to learn whathere I write in these few leaves:… their fruits I am certain maybring both wealth and honor for a crown and a kingdom to hismajesty's posterity." With 5,000, pounds he will undertake toestablish a colony, and he asks of his Majesty a pinnace to lodge hismen and defend the coast for a few months, until the colony getssettled. Notwithstanding his disappointments and losses, he is stillpatriotic, and offers his experience to his country: "Should Ipresent it to the Biskayners, French and Hollanders, they have mademe large offers. But nature doth bind me thus to beg at home, whomstrangers have pleased to create a commander abroad…. Though I canpromise no mines of gold, the Hollanders are an example of myproject, whose endeavors by fishing cannot be suppressed by all theKing of Spain's golden powers. Worth is more than wealth, andindustrious subjects are more to a kingdom than gold. And this is socertain a course to get both as I think was never propounded to anystate for so small a charge, seeing I can prove it, both by example,reason and experience."

Smith's maxims were excellent, his notions of settling New Englandwere sound and sensible, and if writing could have put him in commandof New England, there would have been no room for the Puritans. Headdressed letter after letter to the companies of Virginia andPlymouth, giving them distinctly to understand that they were losingtime by not availing themselves of his services and his project.After the Virginia massacre, he offered to undertake to drive thesavages out of their country with a hundred soldiers and thirtysailors. He heard that most of the company liked exceedingly wellthe notion, but no reply came to his overture.

He laments the imbecility in the conduct of the new plantations. Atfirst, he says, it was feared the Spaniards would invade theplantations or the English Papists dissolve them: but neither thecouncils of Spain nor the Papists could have desired a better courseto ruin the plantations than have been pursued; "It seems God isangry to see Virginia in hands so strange where nothing but murderand indiscretion contends for the victory."

In his letters to the company and to the King's commissions for thereformation of Virginia, Smith invariably reproduces his ownexploits, until we can imagine every person in London, who couldread, was sick of the story. He reminds them of his unrequitedservices: "in neither of those two countries have I one foot of land,nor the very house I builded, nor the ground I digged with my ownhands, nor ever any content or satisfaction at all, and though I seeordinarily those two countries shared before me by them that neitherhave them nor knows them, but by my descriptions…. For the booksand maps I have made, I will thank him that will show me so much forso little recompense, and bear with their errors till I have donebetter. For the materials in them I cannot deny, but am ready toaffirm them both there and here, upon such ground as I havepropounded, which is to have but fifteen hundred men to subdue againthe Salvages, fortify the country, discover that yet unknown, andboth defend and feed their colony."

There is no record that these various petitions and letters of advicewere received by the companies, but Smith prints them in his History,and gives also seven questions propounded to him by thecommissioners, with his replies; in which he clearly states the causeof the disasters in the colonies, and proposes wise and statesman-like remedies. He insists upon industry and good conduct: "torectify a commonwealth with debauched people is impossible, and nowise man would throw himself into such society, that intendshonestly, and knows what he understands, for there is no country topillage, as the Romans found; all you expect from thence must be bylabour."

Smith was no friend to tobacco, and although he favored theproduction to a certain limit as a means of profit, it is interestingto note his true prophecy that it would ultimately be a demoralizingproduct. He often proposes the restriction of its cultivation, andspeaks with contempt of "our men rooting in the ground about tobaccolike swine." The colony would have been much better off "had theynot so much doated on their tobacco, on whose furnish foundationthere is small stability."

So long as he lived, Smith kept himself informed of the progress ofadventure and settlement in the New World, reading all relations andeagerly questioning all voyagers, and transferring their accounts tohis own History, which became a confused patchwork of other men'sexploits and his own reminiscences and reflections. He alwaysregards the new plantations as somehow his own, and made in the lightof his advice; and their mischances are usually due to the neglect ofhis counsel. He relates in this volume the story of the Pilgrims in1620 and the years following, and of the settlement of the SomersIsles, making himself appear as a kind of Providence over the NewWorld.

Out of his various and repetitious writings might be compiled quite ahand-book of maxims and wise saws. Yet all had in steady view onepurpose—to excite interest in his favorite projects, to shame thelaggards of England out of their idleness, and to give himselfhonorable employment and authority in the building up of a newempire. "Who can desire," he exclaims, "more content that hath smallmeans, or but only his merit to advance his fortunes, than to treadand plant that ground he hath purchased by the hazard of his life; ifhe have but the taste of virtue and magnanimity, what to such a mindcan be more pleasant than planting and building a foundation for hisposterity, got from the rude earth by God's blessing and his ownindustry without prejudice to any; if he have any grace of faith orzeal in Religion, what can be more healthful to any or more agreeableto God than to convert those poor salvages to know Christ andhumanity, whose labours and discretion will triply requite any chargeand pain."

"Then who would live at home idly," he exhorts his countrymen, "orthink in himself any worth to live, only to eat, drink and sleep, andso die; or by consuming that carelessly his friends got worthily, orby using that miserably that maintained virtue honestly, or for beingdescended nobly, or pine with the vain vaunt of great kindred inpenury, or to maintain a silly show of bravery, toil out thy heart,soul and time basely; by shifts, tricks, cards and dice, or byrelating news of other men's actions, sharke here and there for adinner or supper, deceive thy friends by fair promises anddissimulations, in borrowing when thou never meanest to pay, offendthe laws, surfeit with excess, burden thy country, abuse thyself,despair in want, and then cozen thy kindred, yea, even thy ownbrother, and wish thy parent's death (I will not say damnation), tohave their estates, though thou seest what honors and rewards theworld yet hath for them that will seek them and worthily deservethem."

"I would be sorry to offend, or that any should mistake my honestmeaning: for I wish good to all, hurt to none; but rich men for themost part are grown to that dotage through their pride in theirwealth, as though there were no accident could end it or their life."

"And what hellish care do such take to make it their own misery andtheir countrie's spoil, especially when there is such need of theiremployment, drawing by all manner of inventions from the Prince andhis honest subjects, even the vital spirits of their powers andestates; as if their bags or brags were so powerful a defense, themalicious could not assault them, when they are the only bait tocause us not only to be assaulted, but betrayed and smothered in ourown security ere we will prevent it."

And he adds this good advice to those who maintain their children inwantonness till they grow to be the masters: "Let this lamentableexample [the ruin of Constantinople] remember you that are rich(seeing there are such great thieves in the world to rob you) notgrudge to lend some proportion to breed them that have little, yetwilling to learn how to defend you, for it is too late when the deedis done."

No motive of action did Smith omit in his importunity, for "Religionabove all things should move us, especially the clergy, if we arereligious." " Honor might move the gentry, the valiant andindustrious, and the hope and assurance of wealth all, if we werethat we would seem and be accounted; or be we so far inferior toother nations, or our spirits so far dejected from our ancientpredecessors, or our minds so upon spoil, piracy and such villainy,as to serve the Portugall, Spaniard, Dutch, French or Turke (as tothe cost of Europe too many do), rather than our own God, our king,our country, and ourselves; excusing our idleness and our basecomplaints by want of employment, when here is such choice of allsorts, and for all degrees, in the planting and discovering theseNorth parts of America."

It was all in vain so far as Smith's fortunes were concerned. Theplanting and subjection of New England went on, and Smith had no partin it except to describe it. The Brownists, the Anabaptists, thePapists, the Puritans, the Separatists, and "such factiousHumorists," were taking possession of the land that Smith claimed tohave "discovered," and in which he had no foothold. Failing to getemployment anywhere, he petitioned the Virginia Company for a rewardout of the treasury in London or the profits in Virginia.

At one of the hot discussions in 1623 preceding the dissolution ofthe Virginia Company by the revocation of their charter, Smith waspresent, and said that he hoped for his time spent in Virginia heshould receive that year a good quantity of tobacco. The charter wasrevoked in 1624 after many violent scenes, and King James was glad tobe rid of what he called "a seminary for a seditious parliament."The company had made use of lotteries to raise funds, and upon theirdisuse, in 1621, Smith proposed to the company to compile for itsbenefit a general history. This he did, but it does not appear thatthe company took any action on his proposal. At one time he had beennamed, with three others, as a fit person for secretary, on theremoval of Mr. Pory, but as only three could be balloted for, hisname was left out. He was, however, commended as entirely competent.

After the dissolution of the companies, and the granting of newletters-patent to a company of some twenty noblemen, there seems tohave been a project for dividing up the country by lot. Smith says:"All this they divided in twenty parts, for which they cast lots, butno lot for me but Smith's Isles, which are a many of barren rocks,the most overgrown with shrubs, and sharp whins, you can hardly passthem; without either grass or wood, but three or four short shrubbyold cedars."

The plan was not carried out, and Smith never became lord of eventhese barren rocks, the Isles of Shoals. That he visited them whenhe sailed along the coast is probable, though he never speaks ofdoing so. In the Virginia waters he had left a cluster of islandsbearing his name also.

In the Captain's "True Travels," published in 1630, is a summary ofthe condition of colonization in New England from Smith's voyagethence till the settlement of Plymouth in 1620, which makes anappropriate close to our review of this period:

"When I first went to the North part of Virginia, where the WesterlyColony had been planted, it had dissolved itself within a year, andthere was not one Christian in all the land. I was set forth at thesole charge of four merchants of London; the Country being thenreputed by your westerlings a most rocky, barren, desolate desart;but the good return I brought from thence, with the maps andrelations of the Country, which I made so manifest, some of them didbelieve me, and they were well embraced, both by the Londoners, andWesterlings, for whom I had promised to undertake it, thinking tohave joyned them all together, but that might well have been a workfor Hercules. Betwixt them long there was much contention: theLondoners indeed went bravely forward: but in three or four years Iand my friends consumed many hundred pounds amongst the Plimothians,who only fed me but with delays, promises, and excuses, but noperformance of anything to any purpose. In the interim, manyparticular ships went thither, and finding my relations true, andthat I had not taken that I brought home from the French men, as hadbeen reported: yet further for my pains to discredit me, and mycalling it New England, they obscured it, and shadowed it, with thetitle of Canada, till at my humble suit, it pleased our most RoyalKing Charles, whom God long keep, bless and preserve, then Prince ofWales, to confirm it with my map and book, by the title of NewEngland; the gain thence returning did make the fame thereof soincrease that thirty, forty or fifty sail went yearly only to tradeand fish; but nothing would be done for a plantation, till about somehundred of your Brownists of England, Amsterdam and Leyden went toNew Plimouth, whose humorous ignorances, caused them for more than ayear, to endure a wonderful deal of misery, with an infinitepatience; saying my books and maps were much better cheap to teachthem than myself: many others have used the like good husbandry thathave payed soundly in trying their self-willed conclusions; but thosein time doing well, diverse others have in small handfulls undertakento go there, to be several Lords and Kings of themselves, but mostvanished to nothing."

WRITINGS-LATER YEARS

If Smith had not been an author, his exploits would have occupied asmall space in the literature of his times. But by his unweariednarrations he impressed his image in gigantic features on our plasticcontinent. If he had been silent, he would have had something lessthan justice; as it is, he has been permitted to greatly exaggeratehis relations to the New World. It is only by noting the comparativesilence of his contemporaries and by winnowing his own statementsthat we can appreciate his true position.

For twenty years he was a voluminous writer, working off hissuperfluous energy in setting forth his adventures in new forms.Most of his writings are repetitions and recastings of the oldmaterial, with such reflections as occur to him from time to time.He seldom writes a book, or a tract, without beginning it or workinginto it a resume of his life. The only exception to this is his "SeaGrammar." In 1626 he published "An Accidence or the Pathway toExperience, necessary to all Young Seamen," and in 1627 "A SeaGrammar, with the plain Exposition of Smith's Accidence for YoungSeamen, enlarged." This is a technical work, and strictly confinedto the building, rigging, and managing of a ship. He was alsoengaged at the time of his death upon a "History of the Sea," whichnever saw the light. He was evidently fond of the sea, and we maysay the title of Admiral came naturally to him, since he used it inthe title-page to his "Description of New England," published in1616, although it was not till 1617 that the commissioners atPlymouth agreed to bestow upon him the title of "Admiral of thatcountry."

In 1630 he published " The True Travels, Adventures and Observationsof Captain John Smith, in Europe, Asia, Affrica and America, from1593 to 1629. Together with a Continuation of his General History ofVirginia, Summer Isles, New England, and their proceedings since 1624to this present 1629: as also of the new Plantations of the greatRiver of the Amazons, the Isles of St. Christopher, Mevis andBarbadoes in the West Indies." In the dedication to William, Earl ofPembroke, and Robert, Earl of Lindsay, he says it was written at therequest of Sir Robert Cotton, the learned antiquarian, and he themore willingly satisfies this noble desire because, as he says, "theyhave acted my fatal tragedies on the stage, and racked my relationsat their pleasure. To prevent, therefore, all future misprisions, Ihave compiled this true discourse. Envy hath taxed me to have writtoo much, and done too little; but that such should know how little,I esteem them, I have writ this more for the satisfaction of myfriends, and all generous and well-disposed readers: To speak only ofmyself were intolerable ingratitude: because, having had many co-partners with me, I cannot make a Monument for myself, and leave themunburied in the fields, whose lives begot me the title of Soldier,for as they were companions with me in my dangers, so shall they bepartakers with me in this Tombe." In the same dedication he spoke ofhis "Sea Grammar" caused to be printed by his worthy friend SirSamuel Saltonstall.

This volume, like all others Smith published, is accompanied by agreat number of swollen panegyrics in verse, showing that the writershad been favored with the perusal of the volume before it waspublished. Valor, piety, virtue, learning, wit, are by them ascribedto the "great Smith," who is easily the wonder and paragon of his.age. All of them are stuffed with the affected conceits fashionableat the time. One of the most pedantic of these was addressed to himby Samuel Purchas when the "General Historie " was written.

The portrait of Smith which occupies a corner in the Map of Virginiahas in the oval the date, "AEta 37, A. 16l6," and round the rim theinscription: " Portraictuer of Captaine John Smith, Admirall of NewEngland," and under it these lines engraved:

"These are the Lines that show thy face: but those
That show thy Grace and Glory brighter bee:
Thy Faire Discoveries and Fowle-Overthrowes
Of Salvages, much Civilized by thee
Best shew thy Spirit; and to it Glory Wyn;
So, thou art Brasse without, but Golde within,
If so, in Brasse (too soft smiths Acts to beare)
I fix thy Fame to make Brasse steele outweare.

Thine as thou art Virtues
JOHN DAVIES, Heref."

In this engraving Smith is clad in armor, with a high starchedcollar, and full beard and mustache formally cut. His right handrests on his hip, and his left grasps the handle of his sword. Theface is open and pleasing and full of decision.

This "true discourse" contains the wild romance with which thisvolume opens, and is pieced out with recapitulations of his formerwritings and exploits, compilations from others' relations, andgeneral comments. We have given from it the story of his early life,because there is absolutely no other account of that part of hiscareer. We may assume that up to his going to Virginia he did lead alife of reckless adventure and hardship, often in want of a decentsuit of clothes and of "regular meals." That he took some part inthe wars in Hungary is probable, notwithstanding his romancingnarrative, and he may have been captured by the Turks. But hisaccount of the wars there, and of the political complications, wesuspect are cribbed from the old chronicles, probably from theItalian, while his vague descriptions of the lands and people inTurkey and "Tartaria" are evidently taken from the narratives ofother travelers. It seems to me that the whole of his story of hisoriental captivity lacks the note of personal experience. If it werenot for the "patent" of Sigismund (which is only produced andcertified twenty years after it is dated), the whole Transylvanialegend would appear entirely apocryphal.

The "True Travels" close with a discourse upon the bad life,qualities, and conditions of pirates. The most ancient of these wasone Collis, "who most refreshed himself upon the coast of Wales, andClinton and Pursser, his companions, who grew famous till QueenElizabeth of blessed memory hanged them at Wapping. The misery of aPirate (although many are as sufficient seamen as any) yet in regardof his superfluity, you shall find it such, that any wise man wouldrather live amongst wild beasts, than them; therefore let allunadvised persons take heed how they entertain that quality; and Icould wish merchants, gentlemen, and all setters-forth of ships notto be sparing of a competent pay, nor true payment; for neithersoldiers nor seamen can live without means; but necessity will forcethem to steal, and when they are once entered into that trade theyare hardly reclaimed."

Smith complains that the play-writers had appropriated hisadventures, but does not say that his own character had been put uponthe stage. In Ben Jonson's "Staple of News," played in 1625, thereis a reference to Pocahontas in the dialogue that occurs betweenPick-lock and Pennyboy Canter:

Pick. —A tavern's unfit too for a princess.

P. Cant. —No, I have known a Princess and a great one, Come forthof a tavern.

Pick. —Not go in Sir, though.

A Cant. —She must go in, if she came forth. The blessed Pocahontas,as the historian calls her, And great King's daughter of Virginia,Hath been in womb of tavern.

The last work of our author was published in 1631, the year of hisdeath. Its full title very well describes the contents:"Advertisem*nts for the Unexperienced Planters of New England, oranywhere. Or, the Pathway to Experience to erect a Plantation. Withthe yearly proceedings of this country in fishing and planting sincethe year 1614 to the year 1630, and their present estate. Also, howto prevent the greatest inconvenience by their proceedings inVirginia, and other plantations by approved examples. With thecountries armes, a description of the coast, harbours, habitations,landmarks, latitude and longitude: with the map allowed by our RoyallKing Charles."

Smith had become a trifle cynical in regard to the newsmongers of theday, and quaintly remarks in his address to the reader: "Apelles bythe proportion of a foot could make the whole proportion of a man:were he now living, he might go to school, for now thousands can byopinion proportion kingdoms, cities and lordships that never durstadventure to see them. Malignancy I expect from these, have lived 10or 12 years in those actions, and return as wise as they went,claiming time and experience for their tutor that can neither shiftSun nor moon, nor say their compass, yet will tell you of more thanall the world betwixt the Exchange, Paul's and Westminster…. andtell as well what all England is by seeing but Mitford Haven as whatApelles was by the picture of his great toe."

This is one of Smith's most characteristic productions. Its materialis ill-arranged, and much of it is obscurely written; it runsbackward and forward along his life, refers constantly to his formerworks and repeats them, complains of the want of appreciation of hisservices, and makes himself the centre of all the colonizing exploitsof the age. Yet it is interspersed with strokes of humor andobservations full of good sense.

It opens with the airy remark: "The wars in Europe, Asia and Africa,taught me how to subdue the wild savages in Virginia and NewEngland." He never did subdue the wild savages in New England, andhe never was in any war in Africa, nor in Asia, unless we call hispiratical cruising in the Mediterranean "wars in Asia."

As a Church of England man, Smith is not well pleased with theoccupation of New England by the Puritans, Brownists, and such"factious humorists" as settled at New Plymouth, although heacknowledges the wonderful patience with which, in their ignoranceand willfulness, they have endured losses and extremities; but hehopes better things of the gentlemen who went in 1629 to supplyEndicott at Salem, and were followed the next year by Winthrop. Allthese adventurers have, he says, made use of his "aged endeavors."It seems presumptuous in them to try to get on with his maps anddescriptions and without him. They probably had never heard, exceptin the title-pages of his works, that he was "Admiral of NewEngland."

Even as late as this time many supposed New England to be an island,but Smith again asserts, what he had always maintained—that it was apart of the continent. The expedition of Winthrop was scattered by astorm, and reached Salem with the loss of threescore dead and manysick, to find as many of the colony dead, and all disconsolate. Ofthe discouraged among them who returned to England Smith says: "Somecould not endure the name of a bishop, others not the sight of across or surplice, others by no means the book of common prayer.This absolute crew, only of the Elect, holding all (but such asthemselves) reprobates and castaways, now made more haste to returnto Babel, as they termed England, than stay to enjoy the land theycalled Canaan." Somewhat they must say to excuse themselves.Therefore, "some say they could see no timbers of ten foot diameter,some the country is all wood; others they drained all the springs andponds dry, yet like to famish for want of fresh water; some of thedanger of the ratell-snake." To compel all the Indians to furnishthem corn without using them cruelly they say is impossible. Yetthis "impossible," Smith says, he accomplished in Virginia, andoffers to undertake in New England, with one hundred and fifty men,to get corn, fortify the country, and "discover them more land thanthey all yet know."

This homily ends—and it is the last published sentence of the "great
Smith"—with this good advice to the New England colonists:

"Lastly, remember as faction, pride, and security produces nothingbut confusion, misery and dissolution; so the contraries wellpractised will in short time make you happy, and the most admiredpeople of all our plantations for your time in the world.

"John Smith writ this with his owne hand."

The extent to which Smith retouched his narrations, as they grew inhis imagination, in his many reproductions of them, has been referredto, and illustrated by previous quotations. An amusing instance ofhis care and ingenuity is furnished by the interpolation ofPocahontas into his stories after 1623. In his "General Historie" of1624 he adopts, for the account of his career in Virginia, thenarratives in the Oxford tract of 1612, which he had supervised. Wehave seen how he interpolated the wonderful story of his rescue bythe Indian child. Some of his other insertions of her name, to bringall the narrative up to that level, are curious. The followingpassages from the "Oxford Tract" contain in italics the wordsinserted when they were transferred to the "General Historie":

"So revived their dead spirits (especially the love of Pocahuntas) asall anxious fears were abandoned."

"Part always they brought him as presents from their king, or
Pocahuntas."

In the account of the "masques" of girls to entertain Smith at
Werowocomoco we read:

"But presently Pocahuntas came, wishing him to kill her if any hurtwere intended, and the beholders, which were women and children,satisfied the Captain there was no such matter."

In the account of Wyffin's bringing the news of Scrivener's drowning,when Wyffin was lodged a night with Powhatan, we read:.

"He did assure himself some mischief was intended. Pocahontas hidhim for a time, and sent them who pursued him the clean contrary wayto seek him; but by her means and extraordinary bribes and muchtrouble in three days' travel, at length he found us in the middestof these turmoyles."

The affecting story of the visit and warning from Pocahontas in thenight, when she appeared with "tears running down her cheeks," is notin the first narration in the Oxford Tract, but is inserted in thenarrative in the "General Historie." Indeed, the first account wouldby its terms exclude the later one. It is all contained in these fewlines:

"But our barge being left by the ebb, caused us to staie till themidnight tide carried us safe aboord, having spent that half nightwith such mirth as though we never had suspected or intendedanything, we left the Dutchmen to build, Brinton to kill foule forPowhatan (as by his messengers he importunately desired), and leftdirections with our men to give Powhatan all the content they could,that we might enjoy his company on our return from Pamaunke."

It should be added, however, that there is an allusion to somewarning by Pocahontas in the last chapter of the "Oxford Tract." Butthe full story of the night visit and the streaming tears as we havegiven it seems without doubt to have been elaborated from very slightmaterials. And the subsequent insertion of the name of Pocahontas—of which we have given examples above—into old accounts that had noallusion to her, adds new and strong presumptions to the belief thatSmith invented what is known as the Pocahontas legend."

As a mere literary criticism on Smith's writings, it would appearthat he had a habit of transferring to his own career notableincidents and adventures of which he had read, and this is somewhatdamaging to an estimate of his originality. His wonderful system oftelegraphy by means of torches, which he says he put in practice atthe siege of Olympack, and which he describes as if it were his owninvention, he had doubtless read in Polybius, and it seemed a goodthing to introduce into his narrative.

He was (it must also be noted) the second white man whose life wassaved by an Indian princess in America, who subsequently warned herfavorite of a plot to kill him. In 1528 Pamphilo de Narvaes landedat Tampa Bay, Florida, and made a disastrous expedition into theinterior. Among the Spaniards who were missing as a result of thisexcursion was a soldier named Juan Ortiz. When De Soto marched intothe same country in 1539 he encountered this soldier, who had beenheld in captivity by the Indians and had learned their language. Thestory that Ortiz told was this: He was taken prisoner by the chiefUcita, bound hand and foot, and stretched upon a scaffold to beroasted, when, just as the flames were seizing him, a daughter of thechief interposed in his behalf, and upon her prayers Ucita spared thelife of the prisoner. Three years afterward, when there was dangerthat Ortiz would be sacrificed to appease the devil, the princesscame to him, warned him of his danger, and led him secretly and alonein the night to the camp of a chieftain who protected him.

This narrative was in print before Smith wrote, and as he was fond ofsuch adventures he may have read it. The incidents are curiouslyparallel. And all the comment needed upon it is that Smith seems tohave been peculiarly subject to such coincidences

Our author's selection of a coat of arms, the distinguishing featureof which was "three Turks' heads," showed little more originality.It was a common device before his day: on many coats of arms of theMiddle Ages and later appear "three Saracens' heads," or "threeMoors' heads"—probably most of them had their origin in theCrusades. Smith's patent to use this charge, which he produced fromSigismund, was dated 1603, but the certificate appended to it by theGarter King at Arms, certifying that it was recorded in the registerand office of the heralds, is dated 1625. Whether Smith used itbefore this latter date we are not told. We do not know why he hadnot as good right to assume it as anybody.

[Burke's " Encyclopedia of Heraldry " gives it as granted to Capt.John Smith, of the Smiths of Cruffley, Co. Lancaster, in 1629, anddescribes it: " Vert, a chev. gu. betw. three Turks' heads coupedppr. turbaned or. Crest-an Ostrich or, holding in the mouth ahorseshoe or."]

XX

DEATH AND CHARACTER

Hardship and disappointment made our hero prematurely old, but couldnot conquer his indomitable spirit. The disastrous voyage of June,1615, when he fell into the hands of the French, is spoken of by theCouncil for New England in 1622 as "the ruin of that poor gentleman,Captain Smith, who was detained prisoner by them, and forced tosuffer many extremities before he got free of his troubles;" but hedid not know that he was ruined, and did not for a moment relax hisefforts to promote colonization and obtain a command, nor relinquishhis superintendence of the Western Continent.

His last days were evidently passed in a struggle for existence,which was not so bitter to him as it might have been to another man,for he was sustained by ever-elating "great expectations." That hewas pinched for means of living, there is no doubt. In 1623 heissued a prospectus of his "General Historie," in which he said:"These observations are all I have for the expenses of a thousandpounds and the loss of eighteen years' time, besides all the travels,dangers, miseries and incumbrances for my countries good, I haveendured gratis: ….this is composed in less than eighty sheets,besides the three maps, which will stand me near in a hundred pounds,which sum I cannot disburse: nor shall the stationers have the copyfor nothing. I therefore, humbly entreat your Honour, either toadventure, or give me what you please towards the impression, and Iwill be both accountable and thankful."

He had come before he was fifty to regard himself as an old man, andto speak of his "aged endeavors." Where and how he lived in hislater years, and with what surroundings and under what circ*mstanceshe died, there is no record. That he had no settled home, and was inmean lodgings at the last, may be reasonably inferred. There is amanuscript note on the fly-leaf of one of the original editions of"The Map of Virginia…." (Oxford, 1612), in ancient chirography,but which from its reference to Fuller could not have been writtenuntil more than thirty years after Smith's death. It says: "When hewas old he lived in London poor but kept up his spirits with thecommemoration of his former actions and bravery. He was buried inSt. Sepulcher's Church, as Fuller tells us, who has given us a lineof his Ranting Epitaph."

That seems to have been the tradition of the man, buoyantlysupporting himself in the commemoration of his own achievements. Tothe end his industrious and hopeful spirit sustained him, and in thelast year of his life he was toiling on another compilation, andpromised his readers a variety of actions and memorable observationswhich they shall "find with admiration in my History of the Sea, ifGod be pleased I live to finish it."

He died on the 21 St of June, 1631, and the same day made his lastwill, to which he appended his mark, as he seems to have been toofeeble to write his name. In this he describes himself as "CaptainJohn Smith of the parish of St. Sepulcher's London Esquior." Hecommends his soul "into the hands of Almighty God, my maker, hopingthrough the merits of Christ Jesus my Redeemer to receive fullremission of all my sins and to inherit a place in the everlastingkingdom"; his body he commits to the earth whence it came; and "ofsuch worldly goods whereof it hath pleased God in his mercy to makeme an unworthy receiver," he bequeathes: first, to Thomas Packer,Esq., one of his Majesty's clerks of the Privy Seal, It all myhouses, lands, tenantements and hereditaments whatsoever, situatelying and being in the parishes of Louthe and Great Carleton, in thecounty of Lincoln together with my coat of armes"; and charges him topay certain legacies not exceeding the sum of eighty pounds, out ofwhich he reserves to himself twenty pounds to be disposed of as hechooses in his lifetime. The sum of twenty pounds is to be disbursedabout the funeral. To his most worthy friend, Sir Samuel SaltonstallKnight, he gives five pounds; to Morris Treadway, five pounds; to hissister Smith, the widow of his brother, ten pounds; to his cousinSteven Smith, and his sister, six pounds thirteen shillings andfourpence between them; to Thomas Packer, Joane, his wife, andEleanor, his daughter, ten pounds among them; to "Mr. Reynolds, thelay Mr of the Goldsmiths Hall, the sum of forty shillings"; toThomas, the son of said Thomas Packer, "my trunk standing in mychamber at Sir Samuel Saltonstall's house in St. Sepulcher's parish,together with my best suit of apparel of a tawny color viz. hose,doublet jirkin and cloak," "also, my trunk bound with iron barsstanding in the house of Richard Hinde in Lambeth, together—withhalf the books therein"; the other half of the books to Mr. JohnTredeskin and Richard Hinde. His much honored friend, Sir SamuelSaltonstall, and Thomas Packer, were joint executors, and the willwas acknowledged in the presence "of Willmu Keble Snr civitas,London, William Packer, Elizabeth Sewster, Marmaduke Walker, hismark, witness."

We have no idea that Thomas Packer got rich out of the houses, landsand tenements in the county of Lincoln. The will is that of a poorman, and reference to his trunks standing about in the houses of hisfriends, and to his chamber in the house of Sir Samuel Saltonstall,may be taken as proof that he had no independent and permanentabiding-place.

It is supposed that he was buried in St. Sepulcher's Church. Thenegative evidence of this is his residence in the parish at the timeof his death, and the more positive, a record in Stow's "Survey ofLondon," 1633, which we copy in full:

This Table is on the south side of the Quire in Saint Sepulchers,with this Inscription:

To the living Memory of his deceased Friend, Captaine John Smith, whodeparted this mortall life on the 21 day of June, 1631, with hisArmes, and this Motto,

Accordamus, vincere est vivere.

Here lies one conquer'd that hath conquer'd Kings,
Subdu'd large Territories, and done things
Which to the World impossible would seeme,
But that the truth is held in more esteeme,
Shall I report His former service done
In honour of his God and Christendome:
How that he did divide from Pagans three,
Their heads and Lives, types of his chivalry:
For which great service in that Climate done,
Brave Sigismundus (King of Hungarion)
Did give him as a Coat of Armes to weare,
Those conquer'd heads got by his Sword and Speare?
Or shall I tell of his adventures since,
Done in Firginia, that large Continence:
I-low that he subdu'd Kings unto his yoke,
And made those heathen flie, as wind doth smoke:
And made their Land, being of so large a Station,
A hab;tation for our Christian Nation:
Where God is glorifi'd, their wants suppli'd,
Which else for necessaries might have di'd?
But what avails his Conquest now he lyes
Inter'd in earth a prey for Wormes & Flies?

O may his soule in sweet Mizium sleepe,
Untill the Keeper that all soules doth keepe,
Returne to judgement and that after thence,
With Angels he may have his recompence.
Captaine John Smith, sometime Governour of Firginia, and
Admirall of New England.

This remarkable epitaph is such an autobiographical record as Smithmight have written himself. That it was engraved upon a tablet andset up in this church rests entirely upon the authority of Stow. Thepresent pilgrim to the old church will find no memorial that Smithwas buried there, and will encounter besides incredulity of thetradition that he ever rested there.

The old church of St. Sepulcher's, formerly at the confluence of SnowHill and the Old Bailey, now lifts its head far above the pompousviaduct which spans the valley along which the Fleet Ditch onceflowed. All the registers of burial in the church were destroyed bythe great fire of 1666, which burnt down the edifice from floor toroof, leaving only the walls and tower standing. Mr. Charles Deane,whose lively interest in Smith led him recently to pay a visit to St.Sepulcher's, speaks of it as the church "under the pavement of whichthe remains of our hero were buried; but he was not able to see thestone placed over those remains, as the floor of the church at thattime was covered with a carpet…. The epitaph to his memory,however, it is understood, cannot now be deciphered upon thetablet,"—which he supposes to be the one in Stow.

The existing tablet is a slab of bluish-black marble, which formerlywas in the chancel. That it in no way relates to Captain Smith anear examination of it shows. This slab has an escutcheon whichindicates three heads, which a lively imagination may conceive to bethose of Moors, on a line in the upper left corner on the husband'sside of a shield, which is divided by a perpendicular line. As Smithhad no wife, this could not have been his cognizance. Nor are thesehis arms, which were three Turks' heads borne over and beneath achevron. The cognizance of "Moors' heads," as we have said, was notsingular in the Middle Ages, and there existed recently in this verychurch another tomb which bore a Moor's head as a family badge. Theinscription itself is in a style of lettering unlike that used in thetime of James I., and the letters are believed not to belong to anearlier period than that of the Georges. This bluish-black stone hasbeen recently gazed at by many pilgrims from this side of the ocean,with something of the feeling with which the Moslems regard the Kaabaat Mecca. This veneration is misplaced, for upon the stone aredistinctly visible these words:

"Departed this life September….
….sixty-six ….years….
….months …."

As John Smith died in June, 1631, in his fifty-second year, thisstone is clearly not in his honor: and if his dust rests in thischurch, the fire of 1666 made it probably a labor of wasted love tolook hereabouts for any monument of him.

A few years ago some American antiquarians desired to place somemonument to the "Admiral of New England" in this church, and amemorial window, commemorating the "Baptism of Pocahontas," wassuggested. We have been told, however, that a custom of St.Sepulcher's requires a handsome bonus to the rector for any memorialset up in the church) which the kindly incumbent had no power to setaside (in his own case) for a foreign gift and act of internationalcourtesy of this sort; and the project was abandoned.

Nearly every trace of this insatiable explorer of the earth hasdisappeared from it except in his own writings. The only monument tohis memory existing is a shabby little marble shaft erected on thesoutherly summit of Star Island, one of the Isles of Shoals. By akind of irony of fortune, which Smith would have grimly appreciated,the only stone to perpetuate his fame stands upon a little heap ofrocks in the sea; upon which it is only an inference that he ever setfoot, and we can almost hear him say again, looking round upon thisroomy earth, so much of which he possessed in his mind, "No lot forme but Smith's Isles, which are an array of barren rocks, the mostovergrowne with shrubs and sharpe whins you can hardly passe them:without either grasse or wood but three or foure short shrubby oldcedars."

Nearly all of Smith's biographers and the historians of Virginiahave, with great respect, woven his romances about his career intotheir narratives, imparting to their paraphrases of his story such anelevation as his own opinion of himself seemed to demand. Ofcontemporary estimate of him there is little to quote except thepanegyrics in verse he has preserved for us, and the inference fromhis own writings that he was the object of calumny and detraction.Enemies he had in plenty, but there are no records left of theiropinion of his character. The nearest biographical notice of him inpoint of time is found in the "History of the Worthies of England,"by Thomas Fuller, D.D., London, 1662.

Old Fuller's schoolmaster was Master Arthur Smith, a kinsman of John,who told him that John was born in Lincolnshire, and it is probablethat Fuller received from his teacher some impression about theadventurer.

Of his "strange performances" in Hungary, Fuller says: "The scenewhereof is laid at such a distance that they are cheaper creditedthan confuted."

"From the Turks in Europe he passed to the pagans in America, wheretowards the latter end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth [it was in thereign of James] such his perils, preservations, dangers,deliverances, they seem to most men above belief, to some beyondtruth. Yet have we two witnesses to attest them, the prose and thepictures, both in his own book; and it soundeth much to thediminution of his deeds that he alone is the herald to publish andproclaim them."

"Surely such reports from strangers carry the greater reputation.However, moderate men must allow Captain Smith to have been veryinstrumental in settling the plantation in Virginia, whereof he wasgovernor, as also Admiral of New England."

"He led his old age in London, where his having a prince's mindimprisoned in a poor man's purse, rendered him to the contempt ofsuch as were not ingenuous. Yet he efforted his spirits with theremembrance and relation of what formerly he had been, and what hehad done."

Of the "ranting epitaph," quoted above, Fuller says: "Theorthography, poetry, history and divinity in this epitaph are muchalike."

Without taking Captain John Smith at his own estimate of himself, hewas a peculiar character even for the times in which he lived. Heshared with his contemporaries the restless spirit of roving andadventure which resulted from the invention of the mariner's compassand the discovery of the New World; but he was neither so sordid norso rapacious as many of them, for his boyhood reading of romances hadevidently fired him with the conceits of the past chivalric period.This imported into his conduct something inflated and somethingelevated. And, besides, with all his enormous conceit, he had astratum of practical good sense, a shrewd wit, and the salt of humor.

If Shakespeare had known him, as he might have done, he would havehad a character ready to his hand that would have added one of themost amusing and interesting portraits to his gallery. He faintlysuggests a moral Falstaff, if we can imagine a Falstaff withoutvices. As a narrator he has the swagger of a Captain Dalghetty, buthis actions are marked by honesty and sincerity. He appears to havehad none of the small vices of the gallants of his time. Hischivalric attitude toward certain ladies who appear in hisadventures, must have been sufficiently amusing to his associates.There is about his virtue a certain antique flavor which must haveseemed strange to the adventurers and court hangers-on in London.Not improbably his assumptions were offensive to the ungodly, and hisingenuous boastings made him the object of amusem*nt to the skeptics.Their ridicule would naturally appear to him to arise from envy. Weread between the lines of his own eulogies of himself, that there wasa widespread skepticism about his greatness and his achievements,which he attributed to jealousy. Perhaps his obtrusive virtues madehim enemies, and his rectitude was a standing offense to hisassociates.

It is certain he got on well with scarcely anybody with whom he wasthrown in his enterprises. He was of common origin, and alwayscarried with him the need of assertion in an insecure position. Heappears to us always self-conscious and ill at ease with gentlemenborn. The captains of his own station resented his assumptions ofsuperiority, and while he did not try to win them by an affectationof comradeship, he probably repelled those of better breeding by aswaggering manner. No doubt his want of advancement was partly dueto want of influence, which better birth would have given him; butthe plain truth is that he had a talent for making himselfdisagreeable to his associates. Unfortunately he never engaged inany enterprise with any one on earth who was so capable of conductingit as himself, and this fact he always made plain to his comrades.Skill he had in managing savages, but with his equals among whites helacked tact, and knew not the secret of having his own way withoutseeming to have it. He was insubordinate, impatient of any authorityover him, and unwilling to submit to discipline he did not himselfimpose.

Yet it must be said that he was less self-seeking than those who werewith him in Virginia, making glory his aim rather than gain always;that he had a superior conception of what a colony should be, and howit should establish itself, and that his judgment of what was bestwas nearly always vindicated by the event. He was not the founder ofthe Virginia colony, its final success was not due to him, but it wasowing almost entirely to his pluck and energy that it held on andmaintained an existence during the two years and a half that he waswith it at Jamestown. And to effect this mere holding on, with thevagabond crew that composed most of the colony, and with theextravagant and unintelligent expectations of the London Company, wasa feat showing decided ability. He had the qualities fitting him tobe an explorer and the leader of an expedition. He does not appearto have had the character necessary to impress his authority on acommunity. He was quarrelsome, irascible, and quick to fancy thathis full value was not admitted. He shines most upon such smallexpeditions as the exploration of the Chesapeake; then his energy,self-confidence, shrewdness, inventiveness, had free play, and hispluck and perseverance are recognized as of the true heroicsubstance.

Smith, as we have seen, estimated at their full insignificance suchflummeries as the coronation of Powhatan, and the foolishness oftaxing the energies of the colony to explore the country for gold andchase the phantom of the South Sea. In his discernment and in hisconceptions of what is now called "political economy" he was inadvance of his age. He was an advocate of "free trade" before theterm was invented. In his advice given to the New England plantationin his "Advertisem*nts" he says:

"Now as his Majesty has made you custome-free for seven yeares, havea care that all your countrymen shall come to trade with you, be nottroubled with pilotage, boyage, ancorage, wharfa*ge, custome, or anysuch tricks as hath been lately used in most of our plantations,where they would be Kings before their folly; to the discouragementof many, and a scorne to them of understanding, for Dutch, French,Biskin, or any will as yet use freely the Coast without controule,and why not English as well as they? Therefore use all commers withthat respect, courtesie, and liberty is fitting, which will in ashort time much increase your trade and shipping to fetch it fromyou, for as yet it were not good to adventure any more abroad withfactors till you bee better provided; now there is nothing moreenricheth a Common-wealth than much trade, nor no meanes better toincrease than small custome, as Holland, Genua, Ligorne, as diversother places can well tell you, and doth most beggar those placeswhere they take most custome, as Turkie, the Archipelegan Iles,Cicilia, the Spanish ports, but that their officers will connive toenrich themselves, though undo the state."

It may perhaps be admitted that he knew better than the London or thePlymouth company what ought to be done in the New World, but it isabsurd to suppose that his success or his ability forfeited him theconfidence of both companies, and shut him out of employment. Thesimple truth seems to be that his arrogance and conceit andimportunity made him unpopular, and that his proverbial ill luck wasset off against his ability.

Although he was fully charged with the piety of his age, and kept inmind his humble dependence on divine grace when he was plunderingVenetian argosies or lying to the Indians, or fighting anywheresimply for excitement or booty, and was always as devout as a modernSicilian or Greek robber; he had a humorous appreciation of the valueof the religions current in his day. He saw through the hypocrisy ofthe London Company, "making religion their color, when all their aimwas nothing but present profit." There was great talk aboutChristianizing the Indians; but the colonists in Virginia taught themchiefly the corruptions of civilized life, and those who weredespatched to England soon became debauched by London vices. "Muchthey blamed us [he writes] for not converting the Salvages, whenthose they sent us were little better, if not worse, nor did they allconvert any of those we sent them to England for that purpose."

Captain John Smith died unmarried, nor is there any record that heever had wife or children. This disposes of the claim of subsequentJohn Smiths to be descended from him. He was the last of that race;the others are imitations. He was wedded to glory. That he was notinsensible to the charms of female beauty, and to the heavenly pityin their hearts, which is their chief grace, his writings abundantlyevince; but to taste the pleasures of dangerous adventure, to learnwar and to pick up his living with his sword, and to fight whereverpiety showed recompense would follow, was the passion of his youth,while his manhood was given to the arduous ambition of enlarging thedomains of England and enrolling his name among those heroes who makean ineffaceable impression upon their age. There was no time in hislife when he had leisure to marry, or when it would have beenconsistent with his schemes to have tied himself to a home.

As a writer he was wholly untrained, but with all his introversionsand obscurities he is the most readable chronicler of his time, themost amusing and as untrustworthy as any. He is influenced by hisprejudices, though not so much by them as by his imagination andvanity. He had a habit of accurate observation, as his maps show,and this trait gives to his statements and descriptions, when his ownreputation is not concerned, a value beyond that of those of mostcontemporary travelers. And there is another thing to be said abouthis writings. They are uncommonly clean for his day. Only here andthere is coarseness encountered. In an age when nastiness waswritten as well as spoken, and when most travelers felt called uponto satisfy a curiosity for prurient observations, Smith preserved atone quite remarkable for general purity.

Captain Smith is in some respects a very good type of the restlessadventurers of his age; but he had a little more pseudo-chivalry atone end of his life, and a little more piety at the other, than therest. There is a decidedly heroic element in his courage, hardihood,and enthusiasm, softened to the modern observer's comprehension bythe humorous contrast between his achievements and his estimate ofthem. Between his actual deeds as he relates them, and his noblesentiments, there is also sometimes a contrast pleasing to theworldly mind. He is just one of those characters who would be moreagreeable on the stage than in private life. His extraordinaryconceit would be entertaining if one did not see too much of him.Although he was such a romancer that we can accept few of hisunsupported statements about himself, there was, nevertheless, acertain verity in his character which showed something more thanloyalty to his own fortune; he could be faithful to an ambition forthe public good. Those who knew him best must have found in him verylikable qualities, and acknowledged the generosities of his nature,while they were amused at his humorous spleen and his seriouscontemplation of his own greatness. There is a kind of simplicity inhis self-appreciation that wins one, and it is impossible for thecandid student of his career not to feel kindly towards the "sometimeGovernor of Virginia and Admiral of New England."