Part 8

Reader, if thou hast perused the preceding sketch of the life of Captain Smith, pause one moment, and reflect, that all that is here recorded, he performed, passed through, and suffered, before he came to the wild shores of the new world. And that here he entered upon a new field of enterprise, and of suffering, and of daring, not less remarkable than the scenes which had already given such wonderful interest to his eventful life. Follow him to the wilderness of Virginia, and witness the toils and struggles he went through to plant the first European settlement in these states. Behold him the guardian spirit of the little colony, in repeated instances and in various ways protecting it by his single arm from utter destruction. When the colony was sinking under famine, the energy and activity of Smith always brought them food; when beset by the subtle and ferocious tribes around them, the courage and skill of Smith never failed to prove a safe and sufficient shield for their protection. When traitors among them sought to rob and abandon the colony, they were detected by his penetration and punished by his power. It mattered not what nominal rank he held in the colony, whether vested with office, or filling only the humble post of a private individual, it was to him that all eyes were turned in times of difficulty and danger, and it was his name alone that struck terror to the hearts of the hostile savages.

With a dozen men in an open boat, he performs a voyage of a thousand miles, surveying the shores of the great Chesapeake Bay and exploring its noble tributary streams, with thousands of the wild sons of the forest ready to meet him at every turn. When, in the cabin of the powerful chief Opechancanough, five hundred warriors, armed with bow and club, surrounded him with a determination to seize him and put him to death, who but Captain John Smith would have extricated himself from his perilous situation? Nothing daunted, he seized the giant chieftain by the hair of his head with one hand, held a pistol to his breast with the other, and led him out trembling among his people, and made them throw down their arms.

In short, for romantic adventure, “hair-breadth escapes,” the sublimity of courage, high and honorable feeling, and true worth of character, the history of the world may be challenged to produce a parallel to Captain John Smith, the founder of Virginia.

[NOTE 13--CANTO THIRD, SECT. I.]

And well might English hearts beat high, When first they breathed thy virgin air; For never to them seem’d sky so bright, Nor ever a land so fair.

“Every object that struck their senses, as they sailed up the Chesapeake, was well calculated to awaken hope in the minds of the adventurers. They were almost enclosed in one of the most spacious bays in the world; whilst the rich verdure, with which a genial and early spring had clad the forest, ascending from the edge of the shore to the summits of the hills, presented a prospect at once regular and magnificent. It was a sort of vast amphitheatre, the limits of which were the horizon; and when to the real beauty of the landscape, be added the ardent spirit of adventure, which delights in the marvellous, and kindles and dilates itself by the enthusiasm of fancy; there is little cause for our surprise at the glowing descriptions of the first settlers, who represented it as a kind of earthly paradise or elisium.”--_Burk’s History of Virginia._

* * * * *

There is a simplicity and an occasional richness in the original descriptions of Captain Smith, which cannot fail to be relished by the reader.

* * * * *

“There is but one entrance by sea into this country, and that is at the mouth of a very goodly bay eighteen or twenty miles broad. The cape at the south is Cape Henry, in honor of our most noble prince. The land white hilly sands, like unto the Downes, and all along the shores great plentie of pines and firres.

“The north cape is called Cape Charles, in honor of the worthy Duke of Yorke; the isles before it, Smith’s Isles, by the name of the discoverer. Within is a country that may have the prerogative over the most pleasant places knowne, for large and pleasant navigable rivers; heaven and earth never agreed better to frame a place for man’s habitation. Here are mountains, hills, plains, valleys, rivers, and brookes, all running most pleasantly into a faire bay, compassed but for the mouth with fruitful and delightsome land.

“The mountains are of divers natures; for at the head of the bay the rockes are of a composition like millstones. Some of marble, &c. And many pieces like christall, we found, as throwne downe by water from those mountains. These waters wash from the rockes such glistering tinctures, that the ground in some places seemeth as guilded, where both the rockes and the earth are so splendent to behold, _that better judgements than ours might have beene persuaded they contained more than probabilities_. The vesture of the earth in most places doth manifestly prove the nature of the soyle to be lusty and very rich.

“The country is not mountainous, nor yet low; but such pleasant plaines, hils, and fertile valleyes, one prettily crossing another, and watered so conveniently with fresh brooks and springs, no less commodious and delightsome. By the rivers are many plaine marishes. Other plaines there are few, but only where the savages inhabit; but all overgrowne with trees and weeds, being a plaine wilderness as God first made it.

“The windes here are variable, but the like thunder and lightning to purify the air, I have seldome either seene or heard in Europe.”--_Smith’s Virginia, published in London, 1629._

* * * * *

In the same work, giving an account of an earlier voyage of discovery to the western continent, under the patronage of Sir Walter Raleigh, the author says, “The second of July they fell with the coast of Florida in shoule water, where they felt a most delicate sweete smell. They found their first landing-place very sandy and low, but so full of grapes, that the very surge of the sea sometimes overflowed them; of which they found such plenty in all places, both on the sand, the greene soyle and hils, as in the plaines, as well on every little shrub, as also climbing towards the tops of high cedars, that they did thinke in the world were not the like abundance.” * * * *

“Discharging our muskets, such a flocke of cranes, the most white, arose by us, with such a cry as if an army of men had shouted altogether.”

The woods contained “the highest and reddest cedars of the world, bettering them of the Assores, Indies or Libanus; pines, cypress, saxefras, the lentish that beareth mastick, and many other of excellent smell and quality.”

“The soyle is most plentifull, sweete, wholesome, and fruitfull of all other; there are about fourteen severall sorts of sweete smelling tymber trees; such oaks as we, but far greater and better.”

[NOTE 14--CANTO THIRD, SECT. III.]

And pale disease began to spread, And scowling famine rear’d her head, And many an exile droop’d and died Along the lonely river side, Where wearily he went to roam And weep unseen for his English home.

Though the colony were several times threatened with famine while Captain Smith remained with them, yet the activity, talents and vigorous exertions of that remarkable man never failed to bring them a timely supply of provisions.

But after Smith was compelled, in consequence of a wound received from an explosion of gunpowder, to return to England, the sufferings of the colony were almost unparalleled. The following sad picture of the extremities to which they were reduced, is given by one of the writers in Smith’s History of Virginia.

“Of five hundred, within six months after Captain Smith’s departure, there remained not past sixtie men, women, and children, most miserable and poor creatures; and those were preserved for the most part, by roots, herbes, acorns, walnuts, berries, now and then a little fish. They that had starch in these extremities made no small use of it; yea, even the very skins of our horses. Nay, so great was our famine, that a savage we slew and buried, the poorer sort took him up again and eat him, and so did divers one another, boyled and stewed with roots and herbes. And one among the rest did kill his wife, powdered her, and had eaten part of her before it was knowne, for which he was executed, as hee well deserved. Now whether she was better roasted, boyled or carbonadoed, 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 starving time.”

[NOTE 15--CANTO THIRD, SECT. VI.]

Sir John the painted idol took And bore it to the shore; And soon a suppliant priest came down, Its ransom to implore.

“Being six or seven in company, he went downe the river to Kecoughtan, where at first they scorned him as a famished man, and would in derision offer him a handful of corn, a peece of bread, for their swords and muskets, and such like proportions also for their apparel. But seeing by trade and courtesie there was nothing to be had, he made bold to try such conclusions as necessitie inforced, though contrary to his commission; let fly his muskets, ran his boat on shore, whereat they all fled into the woods. So, marching towards their houses, they might see great heapes of corne. Much adoe he had to restrain his hungry soldiers from present taking of it, expecting, as it happened, that the savages would assault them, as not long after they did with a most hideous noyse. Sixtie or seventy of them, some black, some red, some white, some party-coloured, came in a square order, singing and dancing out of the woods, with their Okee (which was an idoll made of skinnes, stuffed with moss, all painted, and hung with chains and copper) borne before them. And in this manner, being well armed with clubs, targets, bows and arrows, they charged the English, that so kindly received them with their muskets loaden with pistoll shot, that downe fell their god, and divers lay sprauling on the ground. The rest fled into the woods, and ere long sent one of their priests to offer peace, and redeeme their Okee. Smith told them if only six of them would come unarmed and load his boat, he would not only be their friend, but restore them their Okee, and give them beads, copper, and hatchets besides; which on both sides was to their contents performed. And then they brought him venison, turkies, wild-foule, bread, and what they had, singing and dancing in signe of friendship till they departed.”--_Smith’s Virginia._

[NOTE 16--CANTO THIRD, SECT. VIII.]

The waiters stood watchful to do his command.

“When he, [Powhatan,] dineth or suppeth, one of his women, before and after meat, bringeth him water in a wooden platter to wash his hands. Another waiteth with a bunch of feathers to wipe them instead of a towel, and the feathers, when he hath wiped, are dryed againe.”--_Captain Smith._

[NOTE 17--CANTO FOURTH, SECT. I.]

And over, and over, down they roll’d, And plunged beneath the wave.

Burk says that on one occasion Captain Smith, “whilst he walked unattended in the woods, was attacked by the king of Paspahey, a man of gigantic stature;” and Stith adds, that “the Indian, by mere dint of strength, forced him into the water with intent to drown him. Long they struggled, till the President (Smith) got such hold of his throat, that he almost strangled him.”

[NOTE 18--CANTO FOURTH, SECT. VII.]

Temples that shield from vulgar sight A thousand holy things, Their idols, tombs, and images Of great and ancient kings.

“In every territory of a werowance is a temple and priest; two or three or more.

“Upon the top of certaine red sandy hills in the woods, there are three great houses filled with images of their kings, and devils, and tombs of their predecessors. Those houses are near sixty foot in length, built arbor-wise, after their building. This place they count so holy as that but the priests and kings dare come into them; nor the savages dare not go up the river in boats by it, but they solemnly cast some piece of copper, white beads, or pocones, into the river, for fear their Okee should be offended and revenged of them.”--_Smith’s Virginia._

[NOTE 19--CANTO FOURTH, SECT. VII.]

When lo! the solemn man comes forth With slow and measured tread: A crown of snakes and weasel skins Is borne upon his head.

“Their chief priest differed from the rest in his ornaments, but inferior priests could hardly be knowne from the common people, but that they had not so many holes in their ears to hang their jewells at. The ornaments of the chief priest were certaine attires for his head, made thus. They took a dozen or sixteen or more snakes’ skins, and stuffed them with mosse, and of weazles and other vermines’ skins a good many. All these they tie by their tails, so as all their tails meet on the top of their head like a great tassell. Round about this tassell is as it were a crowne of feathers; the skins hang round about his head, necke and shoulders, and in a manner cover his face. The faces of all their priests are painted as ugly as they can devise; in their hands they had every one his rattle, some base, some smaller.”--_Smiths Virginia._

[NOTE 20--CANTO FOURTH, SECT. VII.]

The sacred weed is in his hand, That Okee’s favor wins, Whose grateful odor hath the power To expiate all sins: He hurls it forth with sinewy arm Into the hottest flame, And thrice aloud in solemn tone Invokes great Okee’s name.

“They have also another superstition, that they use in storms, when the waters are rough in the rivers and on the sea-coasts. Their conjurers runne to the water sides, or passing in their boats, after many hellish outcries and invocations, they cast tobacco, copper, pocones, or such trash into the water, to pacify that god, whom they think to be very angry in these storms.”--_Smith’s Virginia._

[NOTE 21--CANTO FOURTH, SECT. VII.]

Around and round, for six tong hours, They battle with the air.

“The manner of their devotion is sometimes to make a great fire, in the house or fields, and all to sing and dance about it with rattels and shouts together, four or five hours. Sometimes they set a man in the midst, and about him they dance and sing, he all the while clapping his hands, as if he would keepe time; and after their songs and dancings ended, they go to their feasts.”--_Smith’s Virginia._

[NOTE 22--CANTO FOURTH, SECT. XVII.]

Compassion lit its gentle fires In the breast of Powhatan; The warrior to the father yields, The monarch to the man.

After Captain Smith had been taken prisoner by Opechancanough, he was led in triumph through several of the tribes and witnessed many of the strange ceremonies of the Indians, till at last he was brought to the residence of the Emperor Powhatan. The scenes which occurred there, are described as follows, by John Burk in his History of Virginia, a work of which only one volume was completed, bringing the history down no later than 1624. This volume is highly valuable as far as it goes, and exhibits so much ability as to make it a matter of much regret that the author did not live to complete his work.

“On the entrance of Smith, Powhatan was dressed in a cloak made of the skins of the racoon. On either hand of the chief sat two young girls, his daughters. His counsellors, adorned with shells and feathers, were ranged on each side of the house, with an equal number of women standing behind them. On Smith’s entrance, the attendants of Powhatan shouted. The queen of Appamattox was appointed to bring him water to wash, whilst another dried his hands with a bunch of feathers.

“A consultation of the emperor and his council having taken place, it was adjudged expedient to put Smith to death, as a man whose superior courage and genius made him peculiarly dangerous to the safety of the Indians. The decision being made known to the attendants of the emperor, preparations immediately commenced for carrying it into execution by means as simple and summary as the nature of the trial.

“Two large stones were brought in and placed at the feet of the emperor; and on them was laid the head of the prisoner. Next a large club was brought in, with which Powhatan, for whom out of respect was reserved the honor, prepared to crush the head of his captive. The assembly looked on with sensations of awe, probably not unmixed with pity for the fate of an enemy whose bravery had commanded their admiration, and in whose misfortunes their hatred was possibly forgotten.

“The fatal club was uplifted; the breasts of the company already, by anticipation, felt the dreadful crash, which was to bereave the wretched victim of life; when the young and beautiful Pocahontas, the beloved daughter of the emperor, with a shriek of terror and agony, threw herself on the body of Smith. Her hair was loose and her eyes streaming with tears, while her whole manner bespoke the deep distress and agony of her bosom. She cast a beseeching look at her furious and astonished father, deprecating his wrath, and imploring his pity and the life of his prisoner, with all the eloquence of mute, but impassioned sorrow.

“The remainder of this scene is honorable to the character of Powhatan. It will remain a lasting monument, that, though different principles of action and the influence of custom have given to the manners and opinions of this people an appearance neither amiable nor virtuous, they still retain the noblest property of the human character, the touch of pity, and the feeling of humanity.

“The club of the emperor was still uplifted; but pity had touched his bosom, and his eye was every moment losing its fierceness. He looked round to collect his fortitude, or perhaps to find an excuse for his weakness in the faces of his attendants. But every eye was suffused with the sweetly contagious softness. The generous savage no longer hesitated. The compassion of the rude state is neither ostentatious nor dilatory; nor does it insult its object by the exaction of impossible conditions. Powhatan lifted his grateful and delighted daughter, and the captive, scarcely yet assured of safety, from the earth.”

[NOTE 23--CANTO FIFTH, SECT. XV.]

But glancing round upon his men, Unbending still he stood, Upright in native dignity, Like an old oak of the wood.

Powhatan having refused to go to Jamestown to receive the royal presents which Newport had brought from King James, it was decided that Newport and Smith should go to his residence with a file of men, and invest him with the robe of state and crown agreeably to King James’s request. A brief account of the ceremony is given in the quaint language of Captain Smith, as follows.

“The presents were sent by water, and the captains went by land with fifty good shot. All being met at Werowocomoco, the next day was appointed for his coronation. Then the presents were brought in, his bason and ewer, bed and furniture set up, his scarlet cloak and apparell with much adoe put on him, being perswaded by Namontack they would not hurt him. But a foule trouble there was to make him kneele to receive his crowne, he neither knowing the majesty nor meaning of a crowne, nor bending of the knee, endured so many perswasions, examples, and instructions, as tyred them all. At last, by leaning hard on his shoulders, he a little stooped, and three having the crowne in their hands put it on his head.”

[NOTE 24--CANTO SIXTH, SECT. VII.]

And still with sad and anxious thought And moveless eyes he stood, Till he saw her by another flash Enter the midnight wood.

SKETCH OF THE CHARACTER OF POCAHONTAS.

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

“At the first appearance of the Europeans, her young heart was impressed with admiration of the persons and manners of the strangers. But it is not during their prosperity that she displays her attachment. She is not influenced by awe of their greatness, or fear of their resentment, in the assistance she affords them. It was during their severest distresses, when their most celebrated chief was a captive in their hands, and was dragged through the country, as a spectacle for the sport and derision of her people, that she places herself between them and destruction.

“The spectacle of Pocahontas in an attitude of entreaty, with her hair loose, and her eyes streaming with tears, supplicating her enraged father for the life of Captain Smith, when he is about to crush the head of his prostrate victim with a club, is a situation equal to the genius of Raphael. And when the royal savage directs his ferocious glance for a moment from his victim, to reprove his weeping daughter; when, softened by her distress, his eye loses its fierceness, and he gives his captive to her tears, the painter will discover a new occasion for exercising his talents.

“In Pocahontas we have to admire, not the softer virtues only; she is found, when the interest of her friends demands it, full of foresight and intrepidity.

“When a conspiracy is planned for the extermination of the English, she eludes the jealous vigilance of her father, and ventures at midnight, through a thousand perils, to apprise them of their danger.

“But in no situation does she appear to more advantage, than when, disgusted with the cold formalities of a court (in England) and the impertinent and troublesome curiosity of the people, she addressed the feeling and pathetic remonstrance to Captain Smith on the distant coldness of his manner. Briefly she stated the rise and progress of their friendship; modestly she pointed out the services she had rendered him; concluding with an affecting picture of her situation, at a distance from her country and family, and surrounded by strangers in a strange land.

“Indeed there is ground for apprehension that posterity, in reading this part of American history, will be inclined to consider the story of Pocahontas as an interesting romance; perhaps recalling the palpable fictions of early travellers and navigators, they may suppose that in those times a portion of fiction was deemed essential to the embellishment of history. It is not even improbable, that considering every thing relating to Captain Smith and Pocahontas as a mere fiction, they may vent their spleen against the historian for impairing the interest of his plot by marrying the princess of Powhatan to a Mr. Rolf, of whom nothing had previously been said, in defiance of all the expectations raised by the foregoing parts of the fable.

“It is the last sad office of history to record the fate of this incomparable woman. The severe muse, which presides over this department, cannot plant the cypress over her grave, and consign her to the tomb, with the stately pomp and graceful tears of poetry. She cannot with pious sorrow inurn the ashes and immortalize the virtues of the dead by the soul-piercing elegy, which fancy, mysterious deity, pours out, wild and plaintive, her hair loose, and her white bosom throbbing with anguish. Those things are placed equally beyond her reach and her inclination. But history affects not to conceal her sorrow on this occasion.