YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 9002 06 26 3357 '!i?&jffiiliP" „'i;.ir.!: ,;;":;¦,•¦¦' >'•'¦'¦'••' \ /pr ffiiB fMfnl&k^ *f a. CoUtgt m, i^ CeltrLf -TiS.LIE^WJMIIYEI^SIIirY- Gift of IdOJ DISCOYEEEES PIONEEES OF AMEEICA H. F. PAEKER. NE-W YORK: I'ERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU ST. 1859. Entikid uceording to Act of Con^reaa, in Itie yew i ^ bj DERBY & ) AOK-r D N, ift tbe Clerk'* Office of &» District Court of tbe UniUa StHt«H, ita the Soiithcm Dutrict of N«w York W. H. TiNw-N. Stereolyper. Pdcnby & RoajELL, r.iutei^ f0 mjT ll0t|tr, "WHOSK LOTE WAS AND 18 , 8-WEET, MOBNING- LIG-HT OF LIFE, 18 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BT HER DAUaHTEB PREFACE. Thk planet that heralds the sunrise, may be a volcanic waste, like the moon, or scathed ¦with the fires of sin, like the earth ; and f^o the morning stars of heroism, that guided and illumined the first advances of a noon-day civilization to this Western World, ¦were not all as cultivated and pure as those follo^wers of the one " bright and morning Star," who colonized the shores of Plymouth and the banks of the Delaware. Whoever was illustrious, for any reason, in the early history of America, may be included in the number ; and some of the most promiment of these, particularly they who may represent different portions of North America, have been selected as subjects of the follo^wing sketches. A number of characters, deserving an equal place with some of those now chosen, were omitted for want of room. The author trusts that the bringing of them together in one volume, is a plan that offers the novel interest of a close comparison of each character with the others, and one that has been carried out with all the fidelity whioh an examina- VI PEEFACE. tion of Colonial chronicles in the libraries of New- York, can ensure. Some of the sketches, such as those of Lady Ara bella Johnson and Miles Standish, claim to be more complete than any existing ones — at least, of like brevity. To reproduce the scenes and present the scenery of distant times and places, so as to make them realities to the reader, recourse has been had to several elaborate works on geogra^ phy, science and costume, and books of modern travel. A simple regard to truth, and not an indulgence in fancy and exaggeration for popular effect, has been the cherished rule in preparing this unpretending volume. CONTENTS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. FAQK Genoa. — Columbus a Student — A Sailor. — ITavigation. — A Por trait. — Columbus' Theory. — ^A learned Assembly. — ^A Tra veler. — Convent — Friars. — Cordova. — Disappointment. — A Kingly Suppliant. — Bigoted Philosophers. — La Kabida. — ^The Spanish Court at Grenada. — Isabella's noble Decision. — Alarm at Palos. — ^Voyage. — Perils. — Superstition. — The first Glimpse of the Ne'W World. — Landing. — Columbus a Prince. — Search for the Grand Khan. — Ship^svreok. — Nina Alone. — Arrest in the Island Chapel. — ^Arrival at Palos. — Excitement. Princely Reception. — Superiority of Genius. — Second Voyage. — "Lord of the Golden House." — Mysterious Fate of a Col ony. — Cavalier "Workmen. — Search for Gold. — Columbus' Temptation. — Persecution. — ^A Cruise. — Three Brothers. — Captive Cacique. — Retum Voyage. — Forlorn Cre^w. — Colum bus a Friar. — Third Voyage. — ^The Orinoco. — Rebels of Hia- paniola. — Injustice. — ^An Upstart's Sceptre. — Columbus in Chains. — Indignation. — Columbus' Triumph in the Alham- bra. — ^Fourth Voyage. — Return and Disappointment — Old Age and Death. — Character. , 13 ¦Vm CONTENTS. II. AMERICUS VESPUCIUS. PASK His Birth. — Florence. — The Convent — The Plague. — Vespu- cius' Pursuits. — Duplicity of Bishop Fonseca. — Disputed Voy age. — Beauty of the 'Sew World. — Centaurs. — ^An Epicurean Race. — " City of Bridges." — Indians Enslaved. — Return to Cadiz. — Marriage. — Voyage. — Eccentric Companions. — Paria. — Grotesque Customs. — Vegetable Houses and Umbrellas. — Giants. — San Domingo. — Cargo of Slaves. — Return to Spain. — Americus in Portugal. — "Land of Pearls." — Luxuriant Scenery. — Patriarchs. — ^Triumph of Science. — " Canope"^ of the South. — Tempest. — Reception at Lisbon. — Americus hon ored. — Commands a Fleet. — Ship-svreek. — Mariners in Brazil. — Americus in Spain. — Ferdinand and Fonseca. — Disappoint ment. — Death. — Unkno-wn Grave. — His Character. — Disputed Fame 66 III. FERDINAND DE SOTO. Furor of Discovery. — Youth of De Soto. — He embarks for the Indies. — Joins Pizarro. — Horsemanship. — Atahualpa. — Death. — De Soto's Reproaches. — His Wealth. — Return to Spain. Magnificent Display. — ^Noble Marriage. — Governor of Flori da.— Expensive Fleet. — Southern Scenery. — A Pocahontas. Slavery. — Difficult Exploration. — Treacher^'. — Famine. Indian Queen — Obstinacy of De Soto. — Proud Cacique. Bat tle.— Fire.— Discovery of the Mississippi.— Indian Fleet— "Son of the Sun."— The Cacique Foes.— De Soto a Peace maker.— A Troop of Laplanders.^econd Encampment- Famine and Desolation.— De Soto's Disappointment— His Death.— Midnight Burial.- Return of Ms Followers to Spain. ¦—Character of De Soto 2qo CONTENTS. EC IV. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. PAOB. Raleigh's Character. — ^Youth. — ^Military Pursuits. — His Intellec tual Industry. — Exploits in Ireland. — His Personal Attrac tions. — Anecdote of Queen Elizabeth. — Raleigh a Courtier. — Enriched. — ^Equips a Fleet. — Virginia. — Raleigh a Knight. — Prepares a Second Expedition. — Roanoke. — Introduction of Tobacco. — Anecdotes. — ^A City Founded. — Desolation of Ro anoke. — ^First Birth and Baptism in Virginia — Reinforce ment fails. — ^Fate of the Colony. — Raleigh a Hero. — ^A Rival Appears. — Rustication. — A Poet. — Restoration to Royal Fa vor. — Expedition to Panama. — Return to England. — Impris onment ^Marriage. — Membership of Parliament. — Expedi tion to Guiana. — Search for El Dorado. — Return. — General Contempt. — Action at Cadiz. — The Rivals at Fayal. — ^The Ri vals at Court. — ^Irish Estates. — ^The Potato. — Raleigh in "Sol omon's " Court — Arrest. — ^The Trial. — The Tower. — A Wife's Devotion. — ^Twelve Years' Imprisonment. — Guiana. — "Pira- tas 1" — Solitary Imprisonment — ^A Tyrant. — ^Death Warrant. — Execution. — Care-w Raleigh 137 Y. HENRY HUDSON. .Navigation. — ^Diminutive Fleet — Crimson Sno^w. — Crystal Ar chitecture. — Flowers. — Icebergs. — An Escape. — Second Voy age. — Midnight Sun. — A Mermaid. — Nova Zembla. — Return to England. — The Half Moon. — Savages. — Grapes of EschoL — Jersey Shore. — Dutch Craft and Costume — Indian Trad tion — ^Manhattan. — ^The great River. — ^The Highlands and Pali sades. — Captives. — Magical Mountains. — Puzzled Dutchmen. —a Drunken Chief.— A Battle.— Return to England.— Third Voyage. — Iceland. — Fantastic Fountains. — Profligates. — Jap anese Icebergs. — ^An Ice-locked Ship. — Hudson's Straits and Bay. — A Labyrinth. — A Northern Winter. — ^Famine. — ^Muti ny. — a Judas. — ^A Noble Spirit — Cruel Fate of Hudson. — Re tribution. — Character of Hudson 20S X CONTENTS. VI. CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH PaUK His Character. — Birth. — Wanderings. — A Highland Frie.id. — Smith a Soldier. — ^A Courtier. — An Adonis. — A Hermit — A Traveler. — A Jonah. — A Crusoe. — A Pirate. — Smith in Italy. — Turkey. — Knightly Combat — ^Thrice a Victor. — Splendid Reward. — Smith a Slave. — He Escapes. — His Benefactress. — Travels in Europe and Africa. — A new field of Adventure. — American City Founded. — ^An Expedition. — Treachery. — An Indian Shield. — Smith a Captive. — Powhattan's Palace. — ^Po cahontas. — Smith's Power. — Coronation in the Forest — Smith a President. — His Success. — An effective Cure. — An Acci dent. — He Returns to England. — An Expedition. — ^A Prison er. — ^Escape. — Pocahontas' Grief andDeath. — Captain Smith's Last Years and Death 249 vn. CAPTAIN MILES^ STANDISH. Standish and the Pilgrims. — His Ancestors. — Exiles in Holland. Providential Choice. — ^The Departure. — A Forest Home. — Desolation. — Indian Mounds. — A Skirmish. — The first Sab bath. — A new Leyden. — ^Afflictions. — Death of Rose. — Mili tia Ti-aining. — A Scene. — ^An Indian King. — An Exploit — Courtship. — Standish in the "Meeting-house." — Evil over come with Good. — An "Eye for an Eye." — A boastful Gi ant — Standish's Intrepidity. — His Honors. — ^His Home. Scenery of Duxbury. — Death of Captain Standish. — His De scendants. — Memorials. — Last of the Pilgrims 275 vin. LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. A Contrast — Sherwood Forest — Lincoln Family. Home. A Pious Mother,— Death of tho Earl.— Person and Cnaraoter of CONTENTS. Xt Arabella. — ^Mr. Johnson. — Marriage. — Tho Pilgrims. — Devo tion of a Wife. — Preparations for Emigration. — Feast Em barkation. — Salem. — A Primitive Feast — Disappointment Consoled. — Dark Prospects. — Illness of Lady Arabella. — Iler Death. — Mr. Johnson's Grief — Death and Burial. — A Colony in Mourning. — Spirit of the Pilgrims 804 IX. JOHN ELIOT. "Apostle of the Indians." — Birth. — Education. — Emigration. — An Infant Colony. — Eliot's Marriage. — ^Temperate Habits. — Ludicrous Legislation. — ^Anecdote. — Eliot in Trouble. — Wo man's Rights. — First American Book. — Diffusion of Chris tianity. — Indian Language. — Castle-building. — Preaching in the Wilderness. — Effect. — ^A Christian Village. — "Praying Indians." — Shrewd Questions. — A Powaw. — Eliot's Industry. — Jehu. — A Tradition. — Civilized Indians. — Natick. — The Old Dispensation Revived. — ^An Angel. — Indian Testament. — ^Difficulties. — A Striking Illustration. — Forest Travels. — Indian Students. — Trial of Faith. — Old Age. — Eliot a Re former. — A Beautiful Picture. — Death 321 WILLIAM PENN. Peanwood and its Occupants. — Birth and Childhood of Penn. — Anecdotes. — ^Education. — A Quaker Preacher. — Penn Ex pelled from College. — ^Family Scenes. — Trip to Paris. — Penn's Accomplishments. — ^The Quakers. — The Admiral's Temper. — A Noble Mother. — Penn in the Tower. — His Second Arrest — Trial and Imprisonment. — Persecuted Jurymen. — The Admi ral's Chagrin. — Death. — Penn's Rank and Wealth. — Its Em ployment — Gulielma. — Marriage. — Ooeupations. — His Tour 1 1 CONTENTS. PASK through Holland and Germany. — ^Princess of the Rhine. — Graef of Falchcnsteyn. — Return to England. — Interview with King Charles. — The Welshman. — Pennsylvania. — ^Emi gration. — Scenery of the Delaware. — Indian Reception. — "Father Onas" and the Famous Treaty. — Memorials. — ^A Forest Mansion. — "City of Brotherly Love." — Penn in the English Court. — In Prison. — ^Accumulation of Trouble. — Death of Gulielma. — Marriage. — Czar of Muscovy. — Penn and his Family in America. — Reception of " Father Onas." — dlavery. — Penn's Farewell — ^Fleet Prison. — Old Age. — Death. A Contrast — An Eulogy. 368 ]mkxm anb WimuxB of %mtm. COLUMBUS. Upoit the shores of the Mediterranean and at the base of the Appenines, rises the city of Genoa. It sweeps in a semi-circle over an extent of four leagues, is encompassed by a double range of fortifications, and throws its arms — two gigantic moles — far out ¦upon the bay -which it overlooks. A lighthouse of immense proportions towers up from a steep rock at the extremity of one of them. The high, narrow streets, and the ingenious culti vation of gardens and groves upon the housetops, to gether with the simplicity of life and independence of opinion prevalent among the inhabitants, is all that now distinguishes it from the other palaced cities of Italy ; though in power and activity of commerce it formerly rivaled Venice. This city of Genoa, in 14: DiaCOVEKEBS AND PIONEERS OF AJMEKICA. the days of its commercial vigor, was the birth-place of Columbus. Domenico Golumbo, a poor Genoese -wool-comber, and his -wife, Susannah Fontanarossa, were the pa rents of the illustrious Golumbo, who was born about the year 1435. He was the oldest of four children. Bartholomew and Giacomo, his two brothers, appear In history, but of his one sister, little or nothing is known. Although restricted to narrow means, his parents succeeded in providing him at an early age with sources of knowledge that quickly developed his youthful genius. His father, perceiving the readi ness with which he applied himself to his studies, and noting his fondness for geography and whatever per tained to a sea-faring life, determined, with good sense not to make a -wool-comber of Golumbus, notwith standing his ancestors for several generations had adhered to the trade. To afford him an education suitable to a maritime life, he sent him to the Uni versity of Pavia ; but Columbus remained there only long enough to acquire the rudiments of history and science. Pavia, " the city of a hundred towers," is an inland to^wn, distinguished for its Universities. Its dis tance from the sea-board, and its overflow of learned professors instead of mariners, may have repulsed Columbus. Accustomed to a home between the mountains and the sea, -n-here he could look far off upon the -waters that had an indefinable mystery and COLUMBUS. 15 attraction for him, and having roved freely among the crowded shipping in the harbor, learned to trim and shift the sails or climb the ropes, and daily hear ing the exciting accounts of newly-discovered lands, or perilous adventures of the sailors, his ardent imagi nation received a check in abandoning all this and adopting a university life between stone walls, and a weary plodding among books that his boyish ardor and impatience to begin a nautical life, could not en dure. Whether influenced by such reasons, or in con sequence of his father's inability to support him, he remained but a short time at Pavia. Thrown upon his own resources, Columbus began, at fourteen, the career -which was to win for him im mortal fame. Though poor and obscure, he was rich in energy, perseverance, and a lofty, noble spirit, and no doubt had already acquired a valuable store of kno-wledge in regard to his favorite pursuit, since from childhood his mind had been -wholly absorbed in it. It is supposed that, soon after leaving the uni versity, he accompanied a distant relative, named Golumbo, upon his adventurous voyages. Golumbo -was an old and experienced captain, somewhat dis tinguished for his bravery, and much more for his warlike and -wandering propensities, being " always ready to undertake the settlement of his neighbor's quarrels," The first voyage of Columbus mentioned in the an cient chronicles, was made in 1459, -with this veteran, weather-beaten captain, in an expedition under the 16 DISCOVEKEES AND PI0NEEE3 OF AMEEICA. colors of Anjou, against Naples. The struggle con tinued four years, during -which Columbus was at one time appointed to a separate command and sent on a hazardous enterprise to the port of Tunis. The har dihood and resolution he exhibited promised his future greatness. Some of the years succeeding this expedition -were spent, so far as can be ascertained, in voyaging -with a nephew of the old captain, so famous as a corsair that his very name was a terror. Piracy was then a profession. The Mediterranean was a vast battle-plain ; not even a merchant ship ex pected to cross it -without an engagement. The lim ited space to which navigation was confined, -was a high-way of desperadoes and brave adventurers, who sought distinction in war, discovery, crime, or pious expeditions. The Portuguese, during these years, had outvied every other nation in the enterprise and spirit with which they prosecuted discoveries. Under the gui dance of Prince Henry, the African coast was ex plored, and Gape Bajador doubled — events which did much towards divesting the mariners of the su perstitions which prevented them from cruising out of sight of land-marks. Before this, it had been their firm belief that whoever passed Gape Bajador -^vould never return. The fame of these daring enterprises rang through the world and gave rise to the most ex travagant hopes. Eumors of beautiful islands far out at sea, the revived opinions and fancies of the ancients and stories of a golden land, excited the imaginations COLUMBUS. 17 of voyagers, till, in every cloud that hovered in the horizon, they beheld an island or the shores of the famed Cipango. Mariners flocked to a country whose prince devoted himself to the maritime arts, and wil lingly manned the ships that floated in scores from the shores of Portugal, in search of new and strange regions. With the rest went Columbus, not driven there by shipwreck, as related by historians, but, ac cording to the researches of Irving, attracted by the spirit of enterprise shown by a generous prince. Columbus arrived in Portugal about the year 1470, and in the full vigor of manhood. He is described as being " tall, well-formed and muscular, and of an elevated and dignified demeanor. His visage was long, and neither full nor meagre ; his complexion fair and freckled and inclined to ruddy ; his nose aquiline, his cheek bones were rather high, his eyes light grey and apt to enkindle ; his whole counte nance had an air of authority. His hair, in his youth ful days, was of a light color, but care and trouble soon turned it grey, and at thirty years of age it was quite white." Thus we see Columbus treading the narrow, tor tuous streets of Lisbon, engaging in courteous but grave converse with strangers, eloquently arguing with his fellow-mariners, as if inspired, or kneeling in the cathedral and worshiping God with a pious and solemn enthusiasm that entered into all the acts of his life. The chapel of the Convent of All Saints was 18 DISCOVEKEES AND PI0NEEE3 OF AilEEIOA. his chief resort ; there he met Dona Felipa, a lady of rank, but without fortune, who resided in the convent. Their frequent meetings in the chapel resulted in a mutual attachment and marriage, and the home of the bride's mother became theirs. Her deceased father had been governor of the island of Porto Santo, and was highly distinguished as a navigator. All his charts, maps, and journals, the result of his frequent voyages and long experience, were placed in the hands of Golumbus — a valuable acquisition, as he thus became master of a complete account of all the Portuguese discoveries. His magnanimity of spirit and gentle courtesy won the confidence of his mother- in-law ; she appreciated his enthusiasm and progres sive mind, and willingly conceded to him the wealth of her husband's manuscripvi stores, together with all she could relate of his voyages. He frequently sailed in expeditions to the coast of Africa. While thus traversing the seas, he revolved and diligently studied the various theories of the learned of ancient, as well as of his own, times. His genius grasped the most enlightened views; he be came impatient at the close and timid explorations to which he was confined. He looked longingly at the vast and unknown expanse of the Atlantic, and would already have swept boldly over it and plunged fear lessly into its distant mysteries, could he have manned his pioneering vessel. The ocean was still regard ed with fear and superstition ; the masses yet be- COLU^EBUS. 19 lieved that only fire and demons, and overwhelming surges forever and frightfully boiling, existed beyond the visible horizon. The impulse which the enlightened Prince Henry had given to discovery, gradually subsided after his death. During the reign of Alphonso, the wars with Spain absorbed the enthusiasm and enterprise of the nation. Golumbus was alone in the vast dreams his giant mind revolved during the years that followed. He never lost sight of his one fixed purpose. He studied the lore of the past, he speculated and ex plored, and he finally ventured beyond the beaten track, sailed over the northern seas and touched upon the coast of Iceland. This served to strengthen and confirm his -views, which each day unfolded more clearly. From the chaos of superstition, of rumor and imperfect science, he drew forth a theory that stamped him a crazed enthusiast in the eyes of his cotemporaries. He believed that the earth is a ter raqueous globe, and that by sailing to the Avest he would reach the extremity of Asia, or some interven ing land, which would prove to be the famed Cipan go, or Mangi, the country of the fabled Khan and his magnificent empire. Ha-vdng arrived at this conviction, he was firm as a rock. Neither the laugh nor jeers of the crowd, nor the ridicule of men of science, could move him one jot from his strong position. His spirit was too lofty and too deeply imbued with religious fervor, his pur pose too grand, to be cried do-wn by taunts or unbe- 2'! DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEKS OF AMEEICA. lief He already descried the New World, and be held in himself its honored herald ; he found his intended discoveries darkly foretold by the inspired writers, and he pondered upon the supposed prophe cies, till he regarded himself with a respect that im parted imposing dignity and loftiness to his demeanor. He did not desire a private expedition. He wished the preparations and rewarding dignities to be on an equal scale with his design — such as kings alone could undertake. Years passed, therefore, before propitious events opened the way. Upon the accession of John H. to the throne of Portugal, a new impetus was given to discovery. Eager to prosecute Prince Henry's design of find ing a new route to India, and sharing the advan tages of eastern commerce, now monopolized by Italy, 4 he assembled the most learned men in the kingdom, to devise some means by which navigation could have a wider scope. The application of the quadrant to navigation was the result. This promise of an ocean guide, which would lessen the fears of mariners ven turing upon unknown waters, inspired Columbus with new hopes. He immediately sought an audi ence with the king. John II. generously encouraged nautical enterprise, and was therefore a ready listener to the views and plans of a man already noted as a navigator, and famous for his singular enthusiasm. Struck with his bold ideas, his calm conviction, and the accordance with his own liberal views, he referred the matter to COLUMBUS. 21 a select council of scientific men. They quickly re jected it as absurd and visionary. Dissatisfied with this decision, the king conferred with an assemblage of men of the deepest research and learning in the kingdom. Influenced by the opposition of the nar row-minded Cazadilla, the Bishop of Cueva, and fear ful of drawing upon themselves the ridicule of all the world, they, too, condemned the plans of Golumbus as extravagant. Still there were those in the assem bly who were unwilling to lose an opportunity that might redound to the fame of Portugal. They wil lingly acceeded to a wily scheme of Bishop Cazadilla, and, upon a pretense of further deliberation, obtained from Columbus the charts npon which was traced the proposed route. A small vessel was secretly fitted out and sent upon the voyage, with the intention to forestall the great suggester, or, in case of failure, to escape the odium and ridicule they feared to brave in an open expedition, that would at once be pro nounced chimerical by the world. After a few days' cruise to the westward, the caravel returned to Lis bon, its crew frightened at the wondrous expanse of ocean and the stormy waves that threatened to sink them. They covered their cowardice by ridiculing Columbus. All this time Columbus was waiting in painful sus pense for the final decision of the leamed council Noble, free, and high-minded himself, he had no sus picion of the deception being practiced upon him. When the vessel arrived, and a burst of derision 22 DISCOVEEERS AND iTONEEES OF AMEEICA. storming upon him from every quarter, gave him the first intimation of the duplicity of those in whom he had confided, he turned from them with a deep and bitter indignation that would brook no apology. The king still regarded his project with favor, but the more than kingly Columbus scornfully rejected an other conference, and, taking with him his young son, Diego, turned his back upon Portugal. His wife was no longer living, and her small inher itance had been gradually expended. He found him self almost beggared, a homeless wanderer, a despised adventurer. From the court of Lisbon to his native Genoa, from Genoa to the royalty of Venice, he pain fully journeyed, everywhere meeting rebuffs and smiles of commiseration. The white-haired man, leading the little child, was pointed out with wonder at his strange theories, admiration of his loftly bear ing, and pity for his wasted genius. He bore it all In silence, and still, with undaunted courage, traveled on. He defied the combined wisdom of the world, he fearlessly faced poverty, and his soul rose above those who harshly wounded him. At length, he induced his brother, Bartholomew, to sail for England, and lay his plans before Henry VII., while he himself left for Spain, after visiting his father and assisting him with his scanty means. He arrived at Palos and set out on foot to visit his wife's sister, no doubt with the intention of leaving with her the young Diego, whom he still led on his slow and painful journeys. The first day of his humble trav- COLUMBUS. 23 els in Spain, he arrived, weary and disheartened, be fore the gate of a convent belonging to Franciscan friars, known then, and now, as the Convent of La Kab ida. It stood upon a solitary height overlooking the sea coast, and was partially shaded by a grove of pines. Attracted by the cool and grateful shade, and hoping to obtain a crust of bread and some water for his hungry child, he knocked at the gate. The guardian of the convent, Juan Peres, happen ing to perceive the stranger, was struck wifh his no ble countenance, and immediately entered into con versation with him. He became deeply interested in Columbus, detained him as his guest, and listened with lively sympathy to his hopes and his long-frus trated plans. Father Peres was an enlightened, intel ligent man, and somewhat skilled in nautical lore ; ho comprehended the vast project thus laid before him, and, full of lively interest in the newly-unfold ed theory, he sent for the physician of Palos, a man versed in science, to converse with him. Gradually, one and another of the old mariners of Palos gathered to listen and wonder at the strange proposals. The friars in their dark cowls, the weather-beaten pilots, and veteran captains of Palos, were grouped about Columbus, within the convent walls, while he elo quently poured forth his convictions, every feature in his face glowing with high enthusiasm. They caught his fervor, asserted their belief in his theory, and re lated all in their own experience that would support his views. Martin Alonzo Pinzon, a captain of Intel- 24 DISCO VEEE Its AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. ligence, energy, strong resolution, generous senti ments, and the possessor of wealth and infiuence, boldly approved the enterprise of Columbus, and pledged his purse and person to his service. In the exhilaration and excitement that prevailed in the convent councils, plans were speedily formed and put into execution. The guardian undertook the charge and education of the youthful Diego, and the generous Pinzon furnished Columbus with means to repair to the court of Ferdinand, to obtain the coun tenance and assistance of the crown. Furnished with letters to Talavera, the queen's confessor, Columbus set out with a glad heart, encouraged and grateful to God, whose providence had led him to the solitary and hospitable La Pabida. The court of Ferdinand and Isabella had lately as sembled at Cordova, and thither Columbus directed nis steps. Upon his arrival, he found the city a scene of active preparations for war. The streets were gay with magnificently equipped cavaliers and their long retinues ; the court was crowded with val iant warriors and grandees of Spain, who had already won distinction in the Moorish wars. Preparations were being made on a grand scale for a new cam paign against Grenada. All the dignitaries of Spain — the archbishop, the grand cardinal, even Talavera, the counselor and confessor of the queen, were equally absorbed in the one theme of the holy war. How was the poor obscure Golumbus to be heard in the midst of busy politicians and the accumulated dig- COLUilBUS. 13.5 n\ty, pomposity and bigotry of learned churchmen, and where the din of approaching war devoured every other interest ? It was impossible to obtain an audience of the sovereigns, already overwhelmed with pressing de mands. He could but quietly deliver his letter to Talavera and briefly state his plans, which were at once regarded as extravagant and impossible, by the haughty and bigoted man who, to the end, stood cold and imper-vious as a rock, between Golumbus and the King, whose aid he sought. Before anything had been effected towards an interview, Ferdinand had depart ed with his splendid army for the Moorish dominions. Golumbus remained unheeded in Cordova, unable to jain access to the queen, who, with the administra tion of two governments to conduct, had no leisure to receive one whose powers and whose projects were disparaged by her most reliable adviser. Although disappointed and disheartened, Columbus schooled his impatience and prepared slower, but more effective, means, to accomplish his purpose. He earned a scanty support by making maps and charts, and seized upon every opportunity to commu nicate with the influential and powerful. Whoever listened to his eloquent discourse was struck with the force of his reasoning, the dignity of his demeanor, and the nobility of his countenance, though the su percilious and the ignorant derided his attempts to gain the cooperation of kings. "He would seek the rcyal presence," said they, noting his hooiely garb 26 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. and remembering his humble birth, as they pointed him out with scorn. Tears afterwards, they would have gloried in a single glance from his calm, pene trating eye. The summer and autumn of 1486 wore away pain fully to one whose every hour was precious, and upon whose life depended the immediate loss or gain of a continent. With the wonderful perseverance and un tiring assiduity for which he was so remarkable, he succeeded during those months in gaining the atten tion of a few men of intelligence, who became his warm advocates. Alonzo de Quintanilla, comptroller of the finances of Castile, and the brothers Geraldini, one of them the pope's nuncio, the other a preceptor to the children of the sovereigns, rendered him kind and important assistance. After a successful and brilliant campaign, Ferdi nand returned to his own dominions, and the court repaired to Salamanca for a winter residence. At the head of the dignitaries of Spain, and foremost among the king's counselors, was the grand cardinal Mendoza, a man of fine abilities, strong mind and quick perceptions. Next to the sovereigns, he was the most important personage in Spain. To him, Co lumbus was presented by his newly-found friends. The cardinal listened with surprise and profound at tention to the clear exposition of his novel, yet simple, theory. His able and comprehensive mind apprecia ted the whole at a glance ; he gave his decisive ap proval, promptly recommended the project to the no- COLUMBUS. 27 tice of Ferdinand and Isabella, and obtained their consent to an audience. Again Golumbus stood in the royal presence, not as a crouching supplicant of favor — nor with the bold front of an impudent adventurer ; he, the poor Gen oese, came to offer the gift of an explored ocean and a New World, and, with such a gift in his hand, he felt as kingly as the monarch before whom he proudly stood. The unassumed simplicity and grandeur of his mien were the outward manifestations of a lofty spirit, which the most envious courtier might in vain at tempt to imitate. He felt himself " animated as if by a sacred fire from above," as he afterwards as serted, yet he spoke with a calm self-possession that carried conviction with his words. The cautious and subtle Ferdinand readily appre ciated the character of Columbus, and perceived that his project was based upon scientific grounds ; he was ambitious to rival the Portuguese in discoveries, and secure to his kingdom the glory and the wealth prom ised by such an acquisition, yet he was too wary and prudent of his fame to venture it in an uncertain en terprise. He decided to refer the matter to a scien tific body. Talavera, who heartily despised the inno vations which the unlearned son of a wool-comber would presume to make in the long-established theo ries of wise men, was obliged, nevertheless, to assem ble the ablest astronomers and cosmographers in the kingdom, to deliberate upon the matter. The council met at Salamanca, in the convent of 28 DISCOVEEEES Al^D PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. St. Stephen, where Golumbus was sumptuously en tertained. He now regarded the fulfillment of his hopes as beyond a doubt, since he was to appear be fore a body of enlightened men who could readily comprehend his theory. Professors of the university, grave functionaries of the church, and learned monks who had devoted their whole lives to erudition, were gathered in the convent hall to listen to the eloquent appeals, and judge the cause of a man, against whom almost every one was prejudiced. They stubbornly entrenched themselves behind arguments as pompous and dark as the stately and sombre robes in which they were enveloped. The unostentatious mariner and his clear, simple statements, were looked upon with disdain. "Is there any one so foolish," was quoted by one, from a sage, " as to believe that there are antipodes with their feet opposite to ours ; people who walk with their heels upward and their heads hanging down ? That there is a part of the world in which all things are topsy-turvy ; where the trees grow with their branches downward, and where it rains, hails, and snows upward ? " Others solemnly asserted that to acknowledge the existence of land on the other side of the globe, would be to reject the Bible, since in that case there must have been another parent to the human race than Adam, as it was impossible for men to have crossed the ocean. To these objections Columbus replied in a strain of impassioned vehemence and strong argument, that COLUMBUS. 29 won over several of the most intelligent and powerful In the assembly. His whole soul was engaged in the huge task of wielding that mass of bigotry and pre judice ; the great object and aim of his whole life was involved in the exciting struggle. But, day after day was occupied in tantalizing debate, till the months wore away, and the interest and enthusiasm of all were drawn from Columbus and his startling schemes to the preparations for a new campaign against the Moors, in which all were eager to join from motives of piety, and for the opportunities it offered for roman tic adventure or military prowess. Talavera, to -whose direction the council had been consigned, ta king no interest in the proceedings, left Cordova with the court ; his departure ended the sittings of the learned body, and Columbus was again abandoned to his own great dreams. During the four following years, he was attached to the royal suite in an humble capacity ; his claims were occasionally noticed, but the assemblies con vened for the purpose, invariably lost the time in ad vancing absurd objections, then dispersed at the sig nal for a new campaign, without deigning a reply to the impatient applicant. Tormented with this pain ful suspense, he mingled in silence with the crowd which pressed through the streets of the royal cities, sat brooding and unheeded in the antechambers of the palaces, or, following the court to Grenada, looked with melancholy disdain upon the long lines of bril liantly equipped troops, as they marched to battle, or 30 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. filed through the gates of conquered cities with tri umphant banners. Goaded at last to desperation, by the continued trifling with his long-revolved project, he demanded an immediate reply from the conference, again upon the point of dispersing. The entire enterprise was finally rejected as vision ary and unbecoming to the dignity of a prince — a decision which Ferdinand softened by assuring Co lumbus it should be reconsidered at the close of the war. Indignant and grieved, he left Seville, and de termined to seek the patronage of other courts Wearied, discouraged, and reduced to extreme pov erty, he arrived at the convent of La Pabida, after nearly six years of intolerable anxiety, and the final rejection of the splendid gift he would have laid at the feet of his sovereigns. Yet he never, for a mo ment, thought of abandoning a project that was thus rudely buffeted and banded from one court to an other. His wonderful perseverance was but tasked to greater effort. Juan Peres, the guardian of the convent, was as tonished and exasperated at the result of the applica tion. He had formerly been confessor to the queen ; with this advantage, he penned a letter of expostula tion to the monarchs, and despatched it by a worthy friar, who discharged his commission so promptly that, in fourteen days, he returned with a royal letter and message demanding the presence of Juan Peres. Unwilling to lose a moment, he set out at midnio-ht for the Spanish camp, at Santa F6. Arrived at the COLUMBUS 31 scene of war, he was conducted to the presence oi Is abella, whom he addressed with a daring zeal that at once enlisted her interest and sympathy. He was rewarded by her summons for Columbus, and the gift of a purse to provide the habiliments necessary to his appearance in the presence of royalty. Overjoyed at the prospect of success, Columbus hastened to obey the command. He arrived at the camp in time to witness the surrender of Grenada, and the mournful departure of the last of the Moorish kings. It was a propitious moment ; the monarchs were elated with success, and prepared to listen en couragingly to new plans. Nobles and grandees, •wreathed with fresh laurels, fair senoras of distin guished birth, honoring, in gala dress, the late crown ing victory of the Spanish arms ; stately archbishops, cardinals and priests, exulting over the downfall of the crescent, and, elevated above them all, the revered sovereigns, of more imposing presence than ever, and now thrice crowned — altogether composed an assem blage that, without overawing, inspired Columbus with rare and majestic eloquence. He felt that his destiny and the fate of an undiscovered world hung upon his words. His benignant face beamed with the intensity of his enthusiasm ; his form dilated and towered with the vastness of his expanded soul, while he pictured the magnificent realms he should add to their conquest, and the converts that would be made among heathen hosts who peopled the unknown re gions in barbaric splendor. 32 DISOO-VEEEES AND JTIONEEES OP AMEEICA. The last suggestion touched the tender heart of Isabella far more than the grandeur he depicted. Whispers of incredulity or derision went from lip to lip among those who, for the first time, beheld the famous navigator ; while hope and anxiety were plainly visible upon the countenances of those who appreciated and approved the disputed claims. Fer dinand looked coldly upon the audacity of the inno vator who demanded " for himself and heirs, the title and authority of Admiral and Viceroy over all lands discovered by him, with one tenth of the profits." The ha!ughty Talavera, now elevated to the arch bishopric of Grenada, came again like a dark shadow between Columbus and the object almost within his grasp. He pompously assured the king that such terms " savored of the highest degree of arrogance, and would be unbecoming in their highnesses to grant to a needy, foreign adventurer." What bitter words to the proud claimant ! Ferdinand endeavored to per suade him to relinquish his ambitious terms. His dignity would not yield this ; the imperious Ferdi nand and the princely-minded supplicant were equal ly firm. The interview ended, and Columbus quickly passed out, despising the throng who gloried over the acquisition of a petty kingdom and blindly rejected the vast domains he could give them. Indignant and angry, he disregarded the expostulations of the friends who gathered about him, mounted his mule and rode away from the scenes of martial triumph. Pained at the rejection of his enterprise, those COLUMBUS. 33 friends sought the queen. Alonzo de Quintanilla and St. Angel, his warmest advocates, boldly reproached Isabella for hesitating to undertake a cause in which little could be lost, while the gain might be incalcu lable. Yielding to her own generous impulses, and acting with the decision and spirit which had never allowed the interests of the united kingdoms to clash, she exclaimed, " I undertake the enterprise for my own crown of Castile, and will pledge my jewels to raise the necessary funds." A courier was hastily despatched for Columbus ; he had crossed the rich Vega, in the midst of which stood the Moorish capital, and was passing over the bridge of Pinos, when he was overtaken. He refused to return, for he had no faith in Ferdinand. Assured the message was from the queen herself, he joyfully turned back, for he knew her word was a sacred pledge that had never been broken. Isabella re ceived him graciously, promptly acceded to his terms, directed the immediate preparation of two ships, a third being provided by Martin Alonzo Pinzon and Juan Peres, of La Eabida. She then, with Ferdi nand, signed the capitulations which were concluded the 17th of April, 1492. The port of Palos in Andalusia was selected by the queen for the fitting out of the armament, because the inhabitants were under penalty, for some misdemean or, to serve the crown for one year with two armed caravels. By a royal mandate, they were obliged to prepare and man them within ten days, for Columbus B» 3 34 DlSOOVEEIiES AND PIONHEKS OF AMEEICA. The decree set all Palos in commotion. The most of the inhabitants were horror-struck at the thought of venturing into regions long invested with supernatu ral terrors. Even the oldest mariners, with the ex ception of those who at first had gathered about Go lumbus, shook their heads and shrugged their shoul ders at the fearful enterprise. They might approve the theory, but it was a very different matter to test it personally. After great difficulty, a crew of one hundred and twenty, from various ports of Spain, was pressed into the service, and the little fleet was ready for sea on the 3rd of August. Dejected by the prospect of near approaching death, the motley crew went in procession to the church of Palos, confessed and received the blessing of the revered Father Peres, returned to the ships, unfurled the sails and floated away over the vast waste of waters from which few of them ever ex pected to return. The friends who watched the van ishing sails from the shore, wept in unconsolable grief for those they deemed lost, or about to undergo terrors, the more fearful because mysterious. Three weeks elapsed before the three barks out sailed the last point of land, owing to a delay at the Canary islands. When the sailors beheld the heights of Ferro gradually fade from their sight, and saw nothing but the wide rolling ocean -wherever they turned, fear overcame them and they burst into tears and loud lamentations. Columbus had new and un foreseen difficulties to contend with, throughout the COLUMBUS. 35 voyage — the continued danger of insubc rdination among the undisciplined crews which had no sympa thy in, or appreciation of, his great object ; the startr ling variation of the needle for which he could not account satisfactorily to himself; and the extent of ocean which greatly exceeded the computation of the most able cosmographers. The last perplexity, he concealed from the officers and crew, lest their fears should defeat his continued progress. The daily look-out for land caused intense and in creasing excitement. Often startled with the hope ful cry of " land ho ! " and as often sinking back into disappointment and fear, the men at last grew despe rate and would hear no more of their commander's oft-repeated assurances of a speedy possession of splendid countries and immense riches. They gath ered in knots and planned his destruction, if he did not conduct them to tej'rajiryia within a certain num ber of days. Columbus maintained, in their pres ence, a self-possessed, commanding, fearless demean or, and a clear, serene countenance that still held them in awe ; but when alone in his long night-watches, he gazed intently and anxiously along the dusky horizon, to catch the faintest promise of land. At length, one evening, he caught the glimmering of a flitting light, as if one went to antt fro, or was rocked upon the waves. Believing it to be the indi cations of inhabited land, he remained on a keen watch through the night. At two in the morning, the thrillintr -¦—'-¦' -^ - "-"'- ft-om tho T>'nfp -^.ti 36 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEKS OF AMEEICA. nounced the joyful news of laud. They cast anchor, and impatiently waited for the dawn to reveal what was before them. Doubtless, Golumbus expected to behold the rich shore of the eagerly sought India, or the perfumed groves and gilded cities of the famed Cipango. As the shadows of night were slowly lifted from the dark mass that had loomed up through long, tan talizing hours, they looked with wonder upon the shores of a beautiful island, covered with a luxuriant growth of trees and fresh verdure that extended to the beach. Human beings of neither giant growth nor dwarfish proportions, emerged from the woods in every quarter, and seemed lost in astonishment at the approach of white-winged monsters, which they believed had been wafted from heaven upon the clouds. Columbus immediately ordered a boat to be low ered, and, richly attired in scarlet and gold lace, de scended to the boat, bearing a banner emblazoned with a cross, two crowns and the initials of the Span ish monarchs. Upon reaching the shore, the admiral and his companions prostrated themselves and kissed the earth, uttering transports of joy and giving thanks to God in tears. Columbus then unfurled his stand ard, solemnly took possession of the island in the name of his sovereigns, and demanded the oath of obedience to himself as viceroy, from his followers. They crowded about him, knelt at his feet, kissed and embraced him with reverence and admiration, and COLUMBUS. 37 entreated favor of him as if they beheld in him a princely conqueror. The natives timidly approached, touched their gar ments with curiosity, and noted the fair skins and the long beards of the new comers, with amazement. They recognized the superiority of Columbus in the devotion of his companions, and were won by the benignity with which he submitted to their scrutiny. The Spaniards, in their turn, beheld with wonder a race widely differing from any in the known world. Finely proportioned, naked, of copper-colored skin, with straight black hair flowing upon their shoulders, speaking an unknown tongue, simple and harmless in their manners — they were objects of intense interest and speculation to the discoverer. Thus the inliabi- tants of the Old and the New World met for the first time, after centuries of mysterious separation. The island was named St. Salvador ; and as it gave no proof of the rich, populous cities the admiral had expected to find, and as the natives pointed to the south as being a golden region, he spread sails again to seek the country of the Grand Khan, in the exis tence of which he confidently believed. All that the natives had told him by signs, he interpreted in ac cordance with his hopes. For weeks they cruised among the islands that, on every hand, rose from the sea. Full of enthusiasm, they regarded everything in the most favorable light, and were enraptured with the soft climate, the luxu rious vegetation of the islands and the hospitality of 38 DISCOVEKEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. the Indians. At Hispaniola, while at anchor in the Bay of Acril, the ship under the command of Golum bus, was drifted to the shore through the carelessness of the helmsman ; the keel struck deep into the sands and the caravel was soon an irreparable wreck. Alarmed at the loss of his vessel and grieved by the late desertion of Pinzon and his crew, Columbus re solved to return immediately to Spain. A few of his men, attracted by the easy, indolent life of the natives, and pleased with the gracious and prince-like majesty of the ruling cacique, and his generosity to wards them, decided to remain among this newly discovered race. The wrecked ship afforded them materials and arms for a fortress, which they speedily built. The rest, with Columbus, returned to the re maining caravel. Longing to extend his discoveries, yet feeling that the success of the expedition now de pended upon the safe voyage of one fragile bark, he turned from the enticing hope of greater discover ies and directed the single prow homeward. A few days after leaving La Navidad and while still beating along the coast, a shout from the mast head announced the joyful news of a sail standing to wards them. It proved to be the Pinta. Pinzon en- dea,vored to palliate his desertion by various excuses to which Columbus listened without reply. Four Indian men and two girls, to be sold in Spain, had been taken captive during his independent cruising and a large quantity of gold had been secured. Co lumbus immediately restored the wronged natives to COLUMBUS. 39 their island, notwithstanding the angry opposition of Pinzon. Four young Indians, however, were received as guides to the Caribbean Islands — a proposed ex tension of the voyage that was afterwards abandoned. Their sails were now gladly spread for Spain ; but, when fai out upon the Atlantic, a terrific storm threatened the destruction of both the frail vessels, ill-fitted to outride a tempest. For days, they were obliged to scud under bare poles, while, every mo ment, the frightened sailors believed they should be buried beneath the overwhelming waves. The two vessels kept within sight, until, during a night of fear ful danger, they were separated. Morning dawned upon a waste of broken, foaming waves ; the Pinta was no where visible. The sailors of the Nina were maddened with terror at the disappearance of their companions ; left alone upon the vast waters, which were lashed into fury by the gale, their old supersti- ¦ions returned ; they trembled with the fear of being \ept forever in the midst of the stormy waste, and cursed the hour in which they had embarked in the enterprise. These repinings added to the anxiety and distress that already depressed their commander. The whole success of his life-long pursuit depended upon the fate of the half-wrecked bark that remained to him. If it Avas lost, the knowledge and record of his triumph would be buried with it ; the New World might remain unknown for ages, and his own name, despoiled of its glory, be the distinction only of a chimerical adventurer. 40 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. Harassed with these fears, he prepared two concise accounts of his discoveries upon parchment, encased them in waxed cloth within cakes of wax, and en closed them in casks ; one, he threw into the sea ; the other Avas placed upon the poop of the vessel, with the hope of its fioating off in case of the destruction of the caravel. But at the close of the same day upon which these precautions were taken, the dark clouds broke into fleecy groups, the waves were but lightly crested, and a clear light gleamed in the west. The following morning, shouts of joy resounded through the ship, as the clear, sunny atmosphere re vealed land ; the shores of the Old World A»ere greet ed Avith almost as deep, heart-felt enthusiasm as had filled all eyes Avith tears on ajiproaching land, after a long wandering in the unknown seas of the New World. As if Columbus had not yet been sufficiently tried by a multiplicity of troubles and delays, a new de tention still withheld from him the glory and the tri umphant vindication of his theory, which he eagerly awaited. Upon arriving at the Azores, he sent part of his crew on shore at St. Mary's to fulfill a vow that had been made during the tempest, namely, to send a procession, bare-footed, to ofl'er thanksgiving in some church dedicated to the Virgin. While pray ing in the island chapel, they Avere arrested by order of the king of Portugal, — an act instigated entirely by jealousy. Columbus not having been secured as was the intention, the innocent sailors were re- COLUMBUS. 11 leased after a detention of three days, and they a,^ain set sail for Spain. After being tossed about in a mer ciless tempest for days, they Avere obliged to take shelter in a Portuguese harbor. Couriers were immediately despatched to the Span ish sovereigns, with the ncAvs of his arrival and suc cess. Meanwhile, crowds from Lisbon daily visited the ship, with its marvellous freight of productions from the new countrtes. A message from the kino- invited Columbus to the court at Valparaiso, whither he repaired and was received with distinctions grant ed only to princes of the royal blood. King John was deeply grieved and mortified at having lost the vast acquisitions that had been rejected with disdain, in the person of the great navigator. Some of the courtiers, envious and piqued at the brilliant achieve ments of one who had defied their learning and wis dom, proposed the assassination of Golumbus. Oth ers suggested the secret fitting out of an armament that should proceed, at once, over the same route, and claim the forfeited possessions, under cover of a grant from the Pope, which ceded to them a portion of the imaginary India. The last proposition was accepted. Upon the reception of letters from his royal pat rons, Columbus promptly sailed for Spain, and arrived safely at Palos, on the 15th of March. At the start ling news of the return of the Nina, and that it was actually at anchor in the harbor, the inhabitants of Palos could scarcely express their astonishment and joy; All business was suspended, the bolls pealed 42 DISCO veei-:e3 and pioneees of ajieeica. out a noisy welcome, and the streets were filled with a multitude, running to and fro with the ex citement of the wonderful event. Shouts and excla mations rent the air, as Columbus and his crew land ed and proceeded to the Church to give thanks, where, seven months before, they had stood dejected and trembling with terror at the plunge they were about to take into unknown regions. Columbus, who had departeS amid the execrations and jeers of the wise and the learned, came now overwhelmed with honors, unshared by any other per son. Pinzon, who, by a singular coincidence, arrived at Palos on the evening of the same day with the ad miral, was mortified and foiled in his hopes of first announcing the result of the voyage. He Avas sur prised at sight of the Nina, anchored in the same port. He had believed her lost at sea, and hastened to receive honors he flattered himself were reserved for him alone. Upon hearing of the enthusiastic re ception of his commander, he landed privately, and, after the departure of Columbus for court, repaired io his own home. The subsequent displeasure of the sovereigns at his conduct stung his sensitive soul ; humbled and crushed under a keen sense of his dis honor, he died a few days after the announcement of his disgrace. The arrival of Columbus at Barcelona was like the triumphant entry of a Eoman conqueror. The return from a balloon voyage to the moon, at the present day, with specimens of its inhabitants and vegetation. COLUMBUS. 43 could not produce a greater commotion than did that event which crowded the streets, balconies, and even the roofs, of Barcelona with spectators. Six Indians, whom Columbus had induced to accompany him, and who Avere showily decorated with gold coronets, bracelets, and various ornaments, headed the singular procession ; it was with difficulty that it made its way through the applauding populace to the square, where Ferdinand and Isabella publicly awaited the ap proach of the illustrious voyager, beneath a canopy of gold brocade. When Columbus approached, escorted on either hand by royal princes, the sovereigns rose to receive him as if he had been a monarch and a conqueror. He knelt before them, and would have kissed their hands in token of vassalage, had they permitted it ; but they raised him, and, Avith a graciousness that was unheard of in a court remarkable for its punctilious -etiquette, seated him beside them. This was the proudest moment of his life. His age, his white locks, the beaming benignity of his countenance and the majesty of his carriage, were in keeping with the dignity and grandeur of the enterprise he had hero ically accomplished. This triumph was enhanced by the hard, life-long battle through which he had attained victory. He had combated the accumulated science of ages ; he had fought the bigotry and pedantry of churchmen, and the superstition of the masses ; defied the expe- ilence of veteran mariners, struggled with poverty. 44 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. journeyed with unconquerable perseverance from court to court, and, at last, in three little ships, that Avere but toys for the rude waves to toss about, he had battled the elements, subdued his rebellious crew, sternly and daringly ploughed through the unknown deep, and grasped the reality that, from his youth, had floated before his vision like a phantom. Proud Castilian nobles, warriors famed for their knightly prowess in the victories of Grenada, arch bishops and cardinals — the same Avho had haughtily brushed by the poor applicant a year before, now sank in insignificance before the immortalized man, upon whom all eyes turned with wonder, almost with adoration. After Columbus had communicated the most important events of his voyage to the monarchs, they fell upon their knees and gave thanks to God ; an act which was imitated by the vast multitude. In the midst of the prevailing solemnities, the notes of the Te Deum arose softly, and swelled into grand rolling tones that quelled the murmurs of many voi ces into a hush of attention. The effect of the scene upon Golumbus was such that he solemnly vowed to devote a large proportion of his anticipated wealth to the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre from the infidels. This visionary project of a splendid crusade was his faA'orite theme, and an object for which he provided in his will — a fact that sufficiently indicates the pious enthusiasm of his character, and his freedom from mere mercenary views. During the six months of preparation for a second COLUMBUS. 45 voyage, the glories of the New World, its golden riv ers, its spicy groves, its exuberant verdure and de licious climate, were discussed Avith vivacious ardor, by all Spain. The Indies were seen through a golden vail that imparted a bewitching brilliancy and ro mance to its distant shores. The heroic and the am bitious, who longed for chivalric achievements, like those which had distinguished the Moorish war, ea gerly rushed into the newly-opened channel of enter prise. The fieet of seventeen ships, destined for the voyage, were soon crowded with the noblest hidalgos of Spain, and a promiscuous throng in quest of fame and gold. Such was the infatuation of the Spaniards, that many who were refused participation in the al ready over-crowded expedition, went on board by stealth, and concealed themselves till the ships were Dut at sea. Thus, with -wild hopes and buoyant spir its, they bade adieu to European lands, little dream ing of the stern toil and the bitter disappointments that awaited them on transatlantic shores. A voyage of two months brought them to Hispan iola, Avhere some of the companions of the former voyage had remained in the hastily-built fortress of La Navidad. The ships anchored in the bay at eve ning, and the crews impatiently awaited daybreak, to greet the men who had been left in the wilderness. Columbus felt serious apprehension lest some evil had befallen them, since no reply had been given to the signal-guns fired upon their arrival. No light, no sounds of life, were recognized in the profound still- 46 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. ness that ominously rested upon the neighboring shore, till, out of the darkness, two or three boats, filled with Indians, shot over the water and ap proached the ships. The Indians could not be per suaded to go on board until Golumbus presented him self, with a light that enabled them to scan his features. They readily recognized the venerable form and countenance of the admiral, and no longer hesitated to trust themselves to the formidable Span iards. From them the fate of the little colony was ascer tained. They related that Gaonabo, a fierce cacique, known to the Spaniards as the lord of the Golden House, had come down from his dominions in the golden mountains of Cibao, attacked and bumed the village of the peaceful Guacanagari, destroyed the fortress and massacred the Spaniards who had quar reled among themselves, and had neglected needful caution. Pained at the mournful fate of the garrison, Colum bus abandoned his design of establishing a colony there, and selected a more favoiable site. A harbor, sheltered upon one side by rocks, and by a forest on the other, and having a finely watered plain in the vi cinity, was decided upon. The projected city Avas named Isabella, and its erection immediately com menced. Stores, ammunition, arms, and live stock, had been abundantly proAdded, and were promptly disembarked. The work at first proceeded with zest, but the effects of unaccustomed labor and a neAv cli- COLUMBUS. 17 mate, were soon visible, especially among the young cavaliers, who were sorely chagrined at finding the necessity of severe bodily exertion, when they had anticipated nothing but delightful roamings in para disiacal regions, and the easy acquisition of gold that was somehow to fall into their hands at every turn. The prevailing gloom and despondency of mind aggravated diseases, which rapidly thinned out their numbers. Oppressed by these unhappy results, over come with fatigue, and disappointed in not finding a store of gold at La Navidad, with which to freight the returning ships, Golumbus himself became se verely ill ; but he shortly rallied and tasked his ener getic mind to the utmost to provide freight for the waiting vessels, in keeping with the enticing accounts he had repeatedly given. Though his golden dreams daily eluded his grasp, he was always buoyed with the certainty of finding the rich country of the Grand Khan, which was, to the last, the object of his unti ring search. Eager to realize the expectations of his sovereigns, of rich returns, and to sustain the reputation of his discoveries, he proposed an expedition to the moun tains of Cibao, in search of gold. Alonzo de Ojeda was selected for the leader. He was a young cava lier of dark and handsome countenance, fine propor tions, and was remarkable for his strength and agil ity. Irving further describes him as " bold of heart, free of spirit, open of hand ; fierce in fight, quick in brawl, but ready to forgive and prone to forget an 48 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. injury." He was well fitted for the adventurous ex pedition committed to him, and from which he re turned with glowing descriptions of the golden riches of the powerful Caonabo's possessions. Elated by these reports, Golumbus immediately despatched twelve of the ships, with specimens of gold found in the mountains, unknown fruits and plants, and a number of Garib captives, to be educa ted for interpreters, and to aid in the conversion of their race. Being fully aware of the great discrep ancy between the outlays and the returns of the ex pedition, he proposed a source of revenue to his sovereigns that leaves an ineffaceable blot upon his name. It was the enslavement of the Garib race^ — a suggestion which he justified by the hope of their civilization and eventual conversion to the true faith. Isabella's humanity and sense of justice at once re jected the scheme. In order to divert the colonists from their discontent, and to search for the expected gold, a party of well- armed men prepared for battle, labor, or mining, and headed by the admiral, set out to explore the in terior of Hispaniola. After crossing a plain and ar riving at the summit of a mountain pass, they beheld a luxurious plain extended beneath them, occasion ally intersected by magnificent forests of gigantic mahogany trees and spreading palms, brightened by countless streams, and dotted Avith Indian hamlets from which the inhabitants poured forth in dismay at the sound of drums and trumpets, and the sight of COLUJIBCS. 49 men clad in shining steel, and mounted upon animals that seemed to them one with their riders. In their simplicity, they regarded the Spaniards as children of Heaven, and eagerly laid at their feet all the gifts they had to bestow. Gold was brought in abundance. The little army continued their march for several days, till they reached the mountain barriers on the opposite side of the plain. A fortress was erected in the most suitable place for mining, but the results were meagre, as the miners were continually enticed by the Indians to wander hither and thither in search of more promising regions, which were always upon the banks of some remote stream, in the depths of an intricate forest, or hidden among the unattainable mountain heights. Upon returning to the settlement of Isabella, Co lumbus found the colonists in a deplorable state. The heat of the climate, and the humidity of the soil, had induced illness or extreme debility among the largest portion of the settlers ; the growing scarcity of provisions, also promised a speedy famine. Seek ing the general good, Columbus promptly put the whole colony on short allowance, constructed a mill to grind corn, and, by compulsory measures, obliged the Spanish cavaliers to perform the duties of the common laborers, who were the greatest sufferers by sickness. These measures, so necessary to the wel fare of the whole colony, were regarded by the proud and intolerant cavaliers as the unjust impositions of an upstart foreigner. They formed the grounds of C 4 50 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEKS OF A-MEEICA. persecution and anathema that henceforth pursued, and finally crushed, the man Avhose Avhole life seems one continuous struggle with the elements of nature and the prejudice of mankind. When tranquillity was in a measure secured to the colony of Isabella, a voyage of discovery was attempt ed in the direction of Cuba. Columbus still believed Cuba to be part of the continent of Asia — " the be ginning and end of India." His intention was to have coasted the imagined continent, till he arrived at regions belonging to the known world, and thus circumnavigate the globe, or return to Spain by way of the Mediterranean. His vessels were disabled, however, by cruising in the intricate channels that abound along the western coast of Cuba ; and the sailors were uuAvilling to advance farther, where they might incur still greater exposure and peril than they had already endured. He was obliged to turn back, though not until his crew had signed a deposition, de claring their belief that Cuba was part of the conti nent of Asia. Two days' continuation of the voyage would have undeceived them, but in that, as in every enterprise which Golumbus projected, he was baffled by the timidity or obstinacy of those with whom he had to deal. Violent storms accompanied their return voyage, separating the vessels and threatening destruction. The admiral endured the most painful anxiety, day and night, for there was not one in whom he could trust, while traversing these unknoAvn seas, where COLUMBUS. ol they were continually entangled among wild islands. When at last the ocean became tranquil, and they emerged into more familiar regions, the reaction of extreme excitement and fatigue left Golumbus in a state of insensibility that resembled the lethargy of death. The alarmed sailors spread the sails to a fa vorable breeze, and bore their unconscious com mander into the harbor of Isabella. There was one at Isabella who eagerly awaited his arrival. Bartholomew Columbus, his eldest brother, had parted from him when he had first sought the shores of Spain, and had been commissioned by him to seek the patronage of Henry VII. of England. In this, BartholomcAv had been successful, after a cap tivity of some years with a roving corsair. He has tened to Spain to announce the result, but, at Paris, learned that the discovery had been accomplished, and that his brother was showered with honors at the Spanish court, and was preparing a second splendid expedition. He arrived in Spain just after the fleet had sailed, but, aided by the monarchs, fitted out a vessel and spread his sails in the Avake of the brilliant fleet. The delay of these preparations, and struggles with adverse winds, caused a late arrival at Isabella ; he entered the harbor just after the admiral had sailed for Cuba. Columbus' first consciousness was the presence of this beloved brother. It inspired him with ncAvhope and strength. He had been his early companion and the supporter of his splendid schemes, and ha 52 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. was fully capable of relieving him now of the intol erable cares that oppressed him among strangers and unsympathizing foreigners. Bartholomew was a man of powerful, vigorous frame and commanding air ; he was prompt, firm, fearless and persevering — qualities that well fitted him to govern a turbulent colony He differed from Columbus in a certain sternness and abruptness of manner which repelled rather than won ; the penetration and sagacity of his intellect prepared him to deal with men and things, with an adroitness entirely at variance with the admiral's simplicity of character. Columbus gladly invested Bartholomew with the title and authority of Adelantado, which gave him the government of the island — an office that had principally devolved upon Don Diego, his younger brother, who was of too mild and inoffensive a nature to maintain an energetic and firm government. The affairs of the colony had become lamentably disor dered during the absence of the admiral. Complaints and threats arose from every quarter. Every ship that arrived from Spain had been sent back with accounts of the tyranny and oppression of Columbus, and his deceitful representations of the newly discov ered countries. These calumnies, continually poured into the ears of the Spanish monarchs, finally gained some credence, and one Juan Aguado was despatched to ascertain the truth of these representations. He arrived at Hispaniola soon after the return of the admiral, and Avhile the colonists were exasperated COLUMBUS. 53 at the appointment of another brother to high office. The haughty cavaliers Avere indignant at the rule of a family of foreigners, who had sprung from poverty and obscurity. They bewailed their own fate, and pointed to the graves of their companions, in whom wounded pride and sullen despair had worked more fatally than disease. Insults and accusations Avere heaped upon the admiral. Juan Aguado prepared to return to Spain, with an accumulation of grievances, that placed Columbus in the light of an unpardona ble criminal. The serious aspect now given to these complaints, decided the admiral at once to present himself at court and -vindicate the measures he had adopted. The government of the island, during his absence, was committed to Bartholomew, the Adelantado. He set sail at the same time with Aguado, in a separate caravel, containing a large number of the factious and disappointed colonists. Thirty Indians were also on board, who, after a visit to Spain, were to be re turned to their native land. Among them was the famous Gaonabo, the monarch of the golden moun tains of Cibao, who, in a battle, had been taken pris oner by the adventurous Ojeda. The wily stratagem by which the royal captive had been secured, so filled him with admiration and respect for the prowess of Ojeda, that, although diminutive in height and un distinguished in dress, Gaonabo invariably arose in his presence, but obstinately remained seated when Columbus, to whom every one else did obeisance, 5-!- DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. appeared. Several fellow-captives were offered their liberty ; but one, a proud, heroic, Indian wo man, the wife of a cacique, refused to go on shore, having been won by the misfortunes of the haughty and valorous chieftain whose fate she resolved to share. Gaonabo died, however, on the passage. On the 11th of June, 1496, two caravels from the New World anchored in the bay of Cadiz. Multi tudes hastened to greet the adventurers whose desti ny they had envied, and whose gay equipments and exultant looks had filled tEe hearts of those obliged to remain, with discontent at their exclusion from a chance in the golden lottery. Now they beheld, with pity and surprise, a train of pale, emaciated wretches, just able to drag themselves on shore, loaded Avith disease and disappointment instead of the precious ore they had expected to bear. Columbus himself, divested of the imposing habiliments he was accus tomed to wear, appeared in the humble garb of a Franciscan monk, and with an unshaven beard, either from a self-imposed vow, or because he felt himself under the displeasure of his sovereigns. His reception by Ferdinand and Isabella was un expectedly gracious. No notice was taken by them of the complaints brought by Aguado ; they were too conscious of his great merits and the difficulties with which he had to contend, to reprimand his errors. He was obligedj however, to linger in Spain nearly two years before preparations were matured by the crown for a third voyage of discovery. The contest COLUMBUS. 55 of political stratagem Avith France, and war with Italy, wholly absorbed the attention of Ferdinand, who, at best, looked coldly upon Golumbus. Family alliances also drew largely upon the interest and thoughts of -the sovereigns. In the spring of 1498, a squadron of six vessels was at his service ; but the reaction of the public mind in regard to the New World, made the difficulty of ob taining recruits for Hispaniola so great, that it became necessary to supply the deficiency with condemned criminals. This measure proved the destruction of the colony of Isabella, and was a fruitful source of trouble and vexation to the end of Golumbus' life. The result of this voyage was the discovery of the South American continent; but, when the aged ad miral beheld its shores, he did not accept it as the world which had been the object of his life-long search. He had a vague idea of an infinite extension of islands before him, deceived as he was by the Ioav, wide plain, intersected in every direction by the Ori noco. The rapid flow of fresh water into the gulf of Paria, he presumed to be from a mighty river that coursed through some continent yet far distant. Un able to prosecute his discovery, in consequence of the weather-beaten state of his vessels, and his OAvn in creasing infirmities, he steered for Hispaniola, after collecting various specimens from the new region, in which were included pearls of large size and great beauty, obtained from the natives. He arrived at Is abella, emaciated by illness, and almost blind from ¦Tf! DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. the long night-watches he always kept when travers- ing unknown seas. The Adelantado welcomed him gladly ; for, during the two and a half years of their separation, an Her culean task had fallen to his share. Under a daring and insolent leader, the colonists were in a state of rebellion ; not more than forty men remained loyal to the Adelantado, and even in those he could repose no confidence. The attempts of Columbus to restore order resulted in his own deep humiliation. He was obliged to accede to all the terms proposed by the rebels ; granted them Indian slaves, supplied them with ships to transport some of the principal actors to Spain, provided them with certificates of good con duct, and permitted the worthless rabble to embark for home in complete triumph, unpunished, and rec ommended to the sovereigns. The admiral, how ever, privately despatched letters to his royal patrons, assuring them of the true state of affairs, and that the capitulations had been compulsory. Only a few days had elapsed after their departure, when they all returned, actuated in part by the severe weather they had experienced, and much more, prob ably, from fear to appear in Spain, after carrying out such high-handed measures. Columbus beheld them pouring in upon him again, with a heavy heart. Ho Avas stung with the insolent, impudent mien Avhich they preserved ; he felt it the more keenly because of the light in which he regarded his own dignity of station, — expecting, as he did, the same veneration COLUMBUS. 57 from them, which he felt for those to whom he ac knowledged vassalage. Yet, each day, new demands and new concessions were repeated. Large grants of land were allowed them ; their leader was installed in high office ; emboldened by their success, they com mitted lawless depredations among the natives, rob bed them of their valuables, and carried off the most beautiful of the Indian maidens. In the midst of these insubordinate movements, a letter arrived from Spain in reply to the complaints and demands of redress, made by Columbus. It was written by the Bishop Fonseca, superintendent of In dian affairs, an artful, malignant enemy of the admiral, and one who seized upon every opportunity to mis represent him to Ferdinand and Isabella. He curtly replied that the alleged rebellion could not be inves tigated at present. This disregard of the complaints encouraged the rebels to freer depredations. Colum bus would have immediately sailed for Spain, but it was impossible while the island continued in a state of revolt. He despatched two caravels with those of the disaffected who chose to go, requested Ferdinand to send him leamed men to form a council for settling disputes, and requested that his eldest son, Diego, who, with his brother, had the office of page at court, should be sent out to assist him. The ungovernable ruffians who had thus been shipped to Spain, hastened to Grenada, and, instiga ted by the invidious Fonseca, gathered in the court of the Alhambra and sent up cries and lamentations 68 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. against the cruelty of Golumbus. They ran after the king whenever he rode out, and pursued him every where with their outcries. Ferdinand, already jeal ous of the power with which he had invested a sub ject, over countries whose vastness he was just be ginning to appreciate, was exasperated at the accounts of the viceroy's harsh proceedings, verified in every particular by the false Fonseca. The sight of the enslaved Indian girls, their deplo rable ruin and lamentations for their Avilderness homes, filled Isabella with indignation and resent ment. Their possessors asserted that they had been freely bestowed by the admiral. She had been firmly opposed, from the first, to the enslavement of the In dians, had strictly prohibited it, and, on one occasion, shipped back a cargo of five hundred sent by Colum bus, with assurances of her displeasure. With the heinous disregard of this command before her eyes, in an aggravated form, her humanity, her indignation and her firmness, equally actuated her to the course she instantly adopted. The slaves were ordered to be returned to their country, together with every other Indian who was wrongfully retained in Spain. Don Francisco de Bo- badilla, a man of violent passions and ambitious character, was appointed to go to Hispaniola, investi gate the conduct of Columbus, and, if necessary, su percede him in command. He arrived in the harbor of Isabella in the autumn of 1500. Without making inquiries, and prejudiced (MEUMi'.rs. 59 against the man he came to judge, he took advantage of the admiral's absence in the interior, and controlled affairs according to his own hasty view of the mat ter. He seized Don Diego, and enchained and im prisoned him without assigning a cause ; pardoned all the rebels, took possession and disposed of Colum bus' residence and effects, as if confiscated to the crown ; demanded the surrender of all the fortresses and sent peremptory orders for the admiral to appear before him. When Columbus beheld the royal missive, he was confounded. Conscious of his own integrity and mo tives, he obeyed the mandate and presented himself before Bobadilla. He was immediately put in irons and confined in the fortress, amidst the shouts of the populace, though not one had dared to step forth and rivet the chains of him whose venerable presence and magnificent achievements could not but strike them with awe. He received the indignities heaped up on him, in silence — not the silence of moroseness or guilt, but the stillness of a noble soul wounded by the ingratitude and falsity of a friend. He had reposed the utmost confidence in his reverenced queen. Her justice, her generosity, her magnanim ity, had been a supporting staff, upon which he leaned Avith trust and undoubting reliance, when bound un der an intolerable burden of care and injustice. That she should have failed him — that the sovereigns, to whom he had given incalculable services, shoidd thus reward him, was a bitterness that made him indiffer 60 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEKS OF AMEEICA. ent and almost insensible to the insults of the assu ming Bobadilla and the unprincipled rabble, upon whom he looked with mournful scorn. When he appeared upon the shores of Spain in chains, a feeling of indignation sped like an electric shock throughout the kingdom. From the chivalric noble to the hot-blooded peasant, all felt a sense of shame that the honor of Spain was thus dimmed be fore all the world. He refused to have his irons re moved, proudly assuring those who interposed, that they had been placed there by the command of his sovereigns, and by their authority only they should be taken off ; then, he would preserve them as relics and memorials of the rcAvard of his services. Isabella was surprised and grieved at the severity with which Bobadilla had executed her commands ; but when convinced of the unjust treatment of Co lumbus, she made all the reparation in her poAver, provided him with a rich equipment, Avrote letters expressing grief, and invited him to court. The mao-- nificent hall of the Alhambra was the scene of the interview. Golumbus entered and presented himself before his sovereigns and the throng that surrounded them, still keenly feeling his injuries, and maintaining ^ the dignity and silence under Avhich his sensitive spirit had taken shelter. But when he beheld tears in the eyes of the queen, heard her gentle voice of sympathy and regret, and received her extended hand, the long pent-up emotions of his heart flooded forth in uncontrollable tears. He threw himself upon his COLUMBUS. 61 knees before her, but he could not speak a word for the violent sobs which choked his utterance. The monarchs raised him and consoled him with most gracious promises. When sufficiently recovered, he vindicated himself in the most eloquent and touch ing terms. He received assurance of their sincere regret, and pledges of an immediate restoration to his dignities and government — promises which the deceitful and politic Ferdinand never intended to ful fill. Golumbus, nothing doubting, expected to be speedily reinstated, but he was doomed to disappoint ment that embittered and clouded the remainder of his troubled life. He remained nine months at Grenada, endeavoring to arrange his affairs and to obtain the action of the king upon the restoration of his dignities. His pa tience at last exhausted, he turned his attention to the prosecution of a fourth voyage in search of an imagi nary strait that would open into the Indian sea, and afford a new route to oriental regions. He sailed in pursuit of this chimera, in the spring of 1502, with four caravels, accompanied by his brother, Don Bar tholomew, and his youngest son, Fernando. The ex pedition was unsuccessful. After coasting the east ern shores of the southern continent for some dis tance, he was obliged to sail for Hispaniola in conse quence of the shattered condition of his vessels. Storms and adverse winds had been contended with throughout the voyage. His shipwreck on the coast of Jamaica, and detention at Hispaniola, — where the 62 DISCOA^EEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. wretched and oppressive rule of Orvando, the gov ernor appointed to supersede him, had produced a deplorable state of suffering and desolation, particu larly among the Indians, — prevented his return to Spain till two years more of hardship and mental suffering were added to the weight already bearing him down to the grave. After twenty years of toil and pain, we find Go lumbus at Seville, stripped of his honors, grown old and infirm in the service of his king, yet unrewarded, and painfully struggling with poverty. All the world resounded with his fame and envied his immortal name, while he lay writhing with pain in an obscure little inn, unattended, save by a few of his fellow- voyagers. Tormented by the remembrance of his unrestored honors, he despatched letter after letter to the ungrateful Ferdinand, full of entreaties for their restitution. He spurned the offer of titles and es tates in Spain, though reduced to indigence. He did not seek pecuniary remuneration ; he only demanded the restoration of his official dignities, which he as sured the king concerned his honor, and which he re garded as the invaluable trophies of his achievements. These very dignities were a stumbling block to the jealous monarch, who was unwilling to perpetually invest a subject and his heirs with the government of countries of vast and groAving importance. He preferred the alternative of dissimulation and the vi olation of his sealed promises. The death of Isabella, whose own severe afflictions COLUMBQS. 63 had in a measure withdrawn her attention from af fairs of state in her later days, was a severe stroke to the hopes of Golumbus. He knew enough of the crafty policy of Ferdinand, to believe that, without the intercession of the beloved queen, his demands for the fulfillment of their sacred promise were futile Yet he made one, last, despairing effort. The inten sity and eagerness with which he followed up these de mands of justice to himself and his descendants, im parted strength and energy to his enfeebled body and mind. He who, a few years before, proceeded to court in triumph, attended by the nobility, renowned cava- liei-s, and an applauding populace, now entered the gates of Segovia, a poor, infirm old man, dejected and unnoticed. The royal palace was open to him, but he was received with cold, unmeaning smiles by the king, and listened, with a sinking heart, to his eva sive promises. Again and again, he sought the royal audience, till the anxiety, irritation and distress of mind incident to his prolonged application, laid him once more upon a bed of illness from which he was never to rise. His energy and youthful ardor rekin dled and fiamed up brilliantly with his flickering life. As if the infirmities of seventy years had not bound him hand and foot, he assured Philip and Joanna, the successors of Isabella, with all the enthusiasm of youth, that he would " yet be able to render them services, the like of which had never been wit nessed ! " 64 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMBEICA- He expired on the 20th of May, 1506, a few days after his brother Bartholomew had been despatched with the message to the new sovereigns. His son, Diego, and a few faithful followers surrounded his death-bed, which, if rendered gloomy by the severe disappointments of his earthly career, Avas illumined and cheered by his child-like faith in God, to whose guidance he had ahvays committed his life, and to whose mercy he unhesitatingly confided his soul in death, Avith the words, "Into thy hand, O Lord, I commend my spirit." Golumbus was peculiarly a man of intuitive ge nius. He Avas gifted with a brilliant and soaring im agination, that would have stamped him a visionaiy, but for a balancing penetration of mind and sound ness of judgment. His inexhaustible energy and unequalled perseverance, enabled him to hold Avith unflinching grasp an imagined world, that must have eluded the clench of one less firm. His whole life, previous to the discovery, seems a stern preparation to that end. But his lively imagination and the excitement of success, invested the New World . with fabulous charms which stem experience rudely tore awav. He strained every nerve to sustain his first, magnificent representations, and, in the effort to remunerate the monarchs of Spain for their repeated outlays, com mitted the error which leaves the only blot upon his memory. The enslavement of the Indians, in direct disobedience to the commands of the humane Isa- COLUMBUS. GT, bella, can scarcely be excused by the alleged hope of their conversion, and still less by its being a return of expenditures. Thus, with the first star that light ed the hidden world, came the curse that with every succeeding year takes a wider, surer sweep over a fair continent which claims for its emblem the God dess of Liberty. His character fitted him to become the pioneer of a New World, but not its arbitrator. His benignity and simplicity of heart were calculated to win favor, but not to govern or deal with the cunning and duplicity of men ; the consciousness of his own integrity caused him to repose implicit confidence in others. Next to the supreme God he reverenced his sovereigns — a trait that cultivated a humility and meekness of spirit which, in all the proud triumph of his after life, nev er were exchanged for arrogance. The purity and no bleness of his aspirations, and the deep-toned and en thusiastic piety that was prominent in all his visions and projects, lent an imposing dignity to his presence. Columbus was too immortal to be permitted to rest quietly in his grave. His dust was thrice disinterred, and received a fourth and splendid burial at Havanna, after successive removals from Valladolid, Seville and Hispaniola. From the latter place, he was bome, not as once, a living victim of jealousy and chains, but a dead conqueror in triumph ; and his ashes were placed in their last resting place amid the pomp of cathedral service, the firing of canon and the splen-" dor of military honors. II. AMERICUS YESPUCIUS. A MEEE freak of fortune, if not a course of decep tion, exalted the name of a man, who, otherwise, could not have won for his OAvn brow the laurels which should have crowned Columbus. He had neither the genius of him Avho turned the first prow towards the unknown world, nor its frequent substitute — a daring prowess, for which his fellow-voyager, Ojeda, was so remarkable. He certainly deserves the enco miums of his countrymen for his successful applica tion of astronomical science to the earth's equation ; but it would be no more unjust to claim for him, on that account, the honors of Ptolemy, whose discovery of the conjunction of the planets gave him that suc cess, than to ascribe to him the glory of being the first discoverer of America. His first voyage, of which no convincing proofs can be obtained, if prosecuted at all, was simultane ous with that of the Cabots. His second, shared with Ojeda, was but the following up of a route previously traversed by Columbus, whose charts had been ob tained for a guide by unfair means. But, whether AMEEICUS VKSPUCIUS. 67 true or false, his claims must remain a point of dis pute, till better CAddence comes to light from the dusty archives of the Old World ; if false, abundant re proach already rests upon his name ; and if true, Co lumbus must still retain the proud distinction of first ploughing the breadth of the Atlantic, first heralding the existence of a New World, and wedding its shores to the Old. Americus Vespucius was born in Florence, on the 9th of March, 1451. He was the third son of Anas- tasio Vespucci and Elizabeth Mini, and descended from a long line of illustrious and noble ancestors. His father was a man of moderate wealth, but occu pied what was then a fine edifice near the gate of Florence, known at the present day as the Porta del Prato. The house still stands in the street called Borgongnisanti, is occupied by monks, and used as an hospital for the sick poor. Over the doorway, a marble tablet bears the name of Americus, with an inscription lauding him as the illustrious discoverer of America. Like all the residences of the nobility of Florence, it stood near the gates of the city, to permit a ready escape for the family in times of sudden outbursts among the populace. ' Strongholds and elegant villas lined the vale of Arno, from Pisa to the Appenines, affording resorts of pleasure as well as security. The Arno receives its tribute of waters from the towering mountains at the head of the valley ; it winds through the green rale which was then all along enlivened by 68 DISCO'VEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. picturesque houses and gardens, and warlike castles ; it curves beneath four ponderous bridges at Florence, and rolls on through the beautiful valley, divides the far-famed city of Pisa, and, a league beyond, throws itself into the sea. In this beautiful rural scene, as much of the boy hood of Americus passed, as in the palace-lined streets, the arched walks of the Boboli gardens, the statued squares, or the magnificent cathedral and royal chap els of Florence — the last of such elegance and ex quisite workmanship, that Michael Angelo himself could but gaze and wonder. Among the many convents of Florence was one where the sons of the principal nobles assembled for instruction. Georgio Antonio Vespucci, a man dis tinguished for his learning and piety, and uncle to Americus, had been early destined to the church, and was a monk of the order of St. Mark. His convent was the resort of the young Florentines, among whom Americus was included, with the intention of educa ting him for a merchant. It was a " long established custom among the nobility, to devote one of the younger sons to a mercantile life, as in those days it not only brought immense wealth, but high consid eration. The bankers and capitalists of Florence had already exercised powerful influence in national af fairs." Americus received a liberal and thorough educa tion — one which fitted him for any position. In 1478, his studies were interrupted by the universal AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 69 panic that followed the appearance of the plague, His parents withdrew him from the convent, and has tened with him to a country seat far up the valley of the Arno. When the pestilence had subsided, and Florence was repopulated with those who had fled in dismay from the dreaded contamination, Vespucci again opened his school. Americus was among the first to resume his studies, but many of the young Florentines were enticed from their studious pursuits to the recreations by which the nobility sought to efface the remembrance of the terror, gloom and death, which had stalked through the deserted streets. Lorenzo, the Magnificent, held his court in the same gilded palace, which, a short time before, had been infested with the breath of the plague, and had been left in lonely grandeur, a palace for the King of Ter rors. But no sooner had the dreaded conqueror strode away, than the fugitives came rushing back with noisy mfrth and revelling, as if in mockery of the sounds of woe and wailing that had not yet died away. Festival after festival, and various entertain ments of dazzling splendor, busied the inhabitants, till, in the strife to excel in dissipation and extrava gance, they seemed to have gone mad. Strangers were attracted by the unbounded gayety of the new court ; their presence afforded an additional entice ment to the young students, who hastily abandoned their books for amusements at the palace, or at the residences fo the nobility. Americus was too much of a stoic to yield to the 70 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AJilEEIOA. impulses of youth. His thoughtful and retiring char acter better adapted him to a studious application to book lore, in the solemn, silent hall of the convent, than to reckless dissipation among the frivolous and unlearned. When his studies were completed, he went forth from his uncle's masterly hand, a finished scholar, such as was rare out of the cloister. He was equally fitted for a financier, a navigator, and for philosophical research. The lessons of piety he had received from his revered relative, were firmly im planted, and afforded him that undoubting reliance upon the providence of God, which Avas his support in the vicissitudes of life, and a source of joy and thankfulness in prosperity. ' Nothing is known of the occupations of Vespucius during the ten years that followed the completion of his studies, except that he continued to pursue his re searches in cosmography, to which science his earliest preferences directed him. He collected the most ac curate maps and charts that could be found, and ea gerly traced out the shores of newly discovered re gions which every voyage added to the knoAvn world. Every active mind was occupied with speculations upon Avhat remained to be revealed. Vespucius had not the vivid imagination to behold a continent in the midst of the great space that Avas yet vailed in mys tery, but his calm, deliberate reason was preparing him to follow closely in the wake of the pioneering vessel, and with his owr. signature stamp the un claimed world. AMEEICUS A'ESPUCIUS. 71 Vespucius was driven to the mercantile life, for which his father destined him, by the misfortunes of a brother, whose losses involved the family estates. He decided to seek his fortune in Spain, where the splendid court of Ferdinand and Isabella, and the brilliant military exploits of their nobles, attracted the young and ambitious of noble birth from all coun tries. The Italian merchants took advantage of these movements and the consequent demand of their stuffs among the assembled cavaliers of Europe. Americus was commissioned an agent for one of the houses of Medici, and it is supposed also he had some con nection with Juan Berardi, a wealthy Florentine mer chant then engaged in Spain. In 1490, he left Florence for Spain, accompanied by several young nobles who were placed under his guardianship. Thus, after nearly forty years spent in study and seclusion, he entered upon the stirring scenes enacting in Spain, with little danger of being crazed with the enthusiasm that turned so many heads. There was nothing in Americus of the adven turous spirit which sent hosts into sudden enterprises without " counting the cost ; " whatever he did Avas the result of deliberate conclusions. It is not surpri sing, therefore, that, with all his predilection for yoj- age and discovery, he did not enlist in any of the ex citing enterprises of the day, till the failure of his commercial employments left him no other resource. There was nothing sufficiently striking in his i^er- sonal appearance to command attention in the Span- 72 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA.. ish cities, already teeming Avith grandees and knights who outshone lesser lights. Vespucius was retiring and gentle in his deportment ; he possessed none of the dignity of address that made the presence of Co lumbus so imposing ; he was better calculated to cul tivate friendship than to command the adulation of the public. He was of medium height, thick-set and brawny. His forehead was low and. retreating, but of remarkable breadth. His eyes were_ large and dark, his nose aquiline, and his mouth expressive both of firmness and amiability. His complexion was dark, and his hair black, thickly sprinkled with grey ; he always wore a bushy beard. Such is the descrip tion given of him at the time of his arrival in Spain, though a preserved portrait was taken at a much la ter period of life. After some time spent in transacting the affairs with which he had been commissioned at Barcelona, he repaired to Seville, and, it is supposed, became a participator with Berardi, in contracts with the Spanish government, for fitting out armaments to be sent on voyages of discovery. These occupations gave new zest to his speculations. When Columbus returned from his first voyage, he sought interviews, which must have been full of intense interest and ex citement to both, though their opinions essentially differed. Columbus believed he had arrived at the dominions of the Grand Khan, described by Marco Polo, and that he should soon discover Paradise, which the most learned divines believed still existod AMEEICUS A-ESPUOIUS. 73 upon the earth. Vespucius argued that the rich countries he sought lay far beyond those already brought to light, and that, though the paradisiacal regions might be in the vicinity of the balmy islands of the Indies, yet a great body of water separated them from the anticipated continent. His calm rea sons brought him to more just conclusions than re sulted from the researches of the inspired and enthu siastic Columbus, who saw everything in the decep tive light of a vivid imagination. The death of Berardi, in 1495, left to Vespucius the settlement of his affairs, which seems to have oc cupied him nearly two years. His employment by the government brought him in contact with its offi cers, one of the principal of whom, Bishop Fonseca, manifested much interest in him. It was probably he who obtained his appointment to " assist " in dis coveries and accompany an expedition (which is as serted to have occurred in 1497,) somewhat in the position of agent of the king. He was not the com mander of the fleet, and seems to have acted a sub ordinate part in the enterprise. If the voyage was made, therefore, and if the discovery of Paria was the result, he was no more entitled to the consequent honors than the person or persons whom he accom panied to " assist ; " else why was he not recognized and honored as the discoverer by Ferdinand and Fonseca, both of whom were ready to foil the claims of Columbus ? A man of the malignant hatred and artful cunning of Fonseca, never would have permit" D 74 DISCOVEEEES .\JN'L) PIOJ'EEES OF AMEEICA. ted the deserved honors of a favorite to be bestoAved upon one whom he bitterly hated. Neither Avould private considerations have been likely to despoil him of the coveted fame of discovering a continent, as is urged by one of his biographers. On the other hand, it is difficult to believe that a man of the acknowledged integrity of Vespucius, should have attempted such a deception, or, if he had been a wolf in sheep's clothing, that he should have been so short-sighted as to advance claims that could easily be charged Avith falsity. Perhaps succeeding generations may smooth the knotted thread which the learned of several centuries have patiently sought to straighten, and have only succeeded in more thor oughly entangling. The disputed letter was written to Piero Soderini, one who had been a fellow-student in the convent of Vespucci, and who, in his fifty-second year, had been elected president of the Florentine republic, under the title of Perpetual Gonfaloniere, in place of the banished Medici family. Vespucius states to him that an account of his voyages " was formerly Avritten in barbarous style, destitute of the polish of litera ture, and directed to Don Ferdinand, king of Castile." He relates of his first voyage that he sailed from the port of Cadiz, the tenth of May, 1497, as an as sistant in the expected discoveries, and " Avith fonr ships in company." Favorable winds bore them to the shores of the New World, in twenty-seven days. As soon as they beheld land, preparations were made AMEEICUS A'ESPUCIUS. 75 to go on shore, for, although there Avas no convenient or safe harbor, curiosity and wonder prevailed. The ship was anchored a league and a half from the shore, the boats were lowered, and quickly manned by those who were eager to behold the famed wonders of a New World and a new race. Distant glimpses of human beings fleeing along the shore and hiding themselves in the woods, assured them that the coast Avas inhabited ; but, by the time, they touched the shore, not a living creature was to be seen, and no thing remained to gratify their curiosity but the gi gantic vegetation, and the- innumerable birds of gor geous plumage that flitted among the towering trees. The look of deserted luxuriance, and the profound silence that prevailed, sent them back to the ships, half incKned to believe they had been enticed by crea tures of the imagination. The four caravels set sail in search of a safe harbor. During the two days of coasting that followed, they again beheld, all along the shore, hosts of savages as sembled in groups, to consult upon the nature of the wonderful apparition, or running swiftly along the beach, to keep pace with the winged monsters that skimmed over the sea within sight. The ships anchored in a place of safety, and again the boats Avere manned and sent ashore. As before, the natives fled in terror from the strange beings, of whose size and shape they could form no notion, by reason of the full Spanish robes, frills, slouched hats and plumes ; nor, unused as they were to tha 76 niSOOVEKEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. sight of clothing, could they quite determine if the brilliant costumes grew with the bodies or not. They fled to the neighboring hills, and could not be induced to approach till after a long parley by signs, at a safe distance. Little by little, and Avith a timid ity that was startled at every movement, they ven tured at last to behold the strangers nearer, and re ceive the trinkets whicli they regarded as of inesti mable value. Night approaching, the Spaniards returned to their ships. The next morning the shore was lined with crowds of , natives, waiting to welcome their marvelous visitors, and evincing their good will by having brought with them burdens of magnificent plumes, necklaces offish- bones, and nose and ear ornaments of green and white stones, beside abundant provisions. The utmost good feeling prevailed. The Spaniards were busied in no ting the peculiar customs of the savages, of so volup tuous a nature that Americus decided them to be an Epicurean race. The natives, in their turn, were equally bewildered and amused with the Spaniards and their ships, and unwillingly beheld them depart from cheir shores. After coasting for some distance, the caravels were again anchored in a harbor where the modern Vene zuela stands. The voyagers beheld Avith astonishment a village built like the " City of Bridges," over the Avater. The houses were bell-shaped and communi cated with each other by drawbridges, which, upon the appearance of the strangers, were instantly raised. AMEEICUS VESl'UCIUS. 77 the inhabitants concealing themselves in their singu lar fortresses. At length, a little fieet of canoes dart ed out from a hidden cove, filled with Indians, who swiftly approached the ships. They reconnoitred the caravels a few moments, then retumed to the shore as swiftly as they came, and fled to the hills. They were not long invisible, for, with multiplied numbers, they again flocked to the beach and threw themselves into their canoes, or into the sea, and glided speedily towards the ships. The Spaniards were delighted Avith this proof of confidence and friendship, but, upon a certain signal, they were confounded to behold the naked hosts sud denly bristling with weapons which had been adroitly concealed in the water. A battle ensued, Avith little harm on either side, but which induced the unwel come intruders to pursue their voyage, and seek more amicable shores. Several weeks were occupied in communicating Avith the savages, along the coast and a short distance in the interior. In a fierce battle that occurred in one of the ports, they took two hundred and fifty prisoners, to be sold in Spain for slaves, and with these they decided to sail homeward. Their arrival at Cadiz created no sensation, and no mention whatever was made of the alleged discovery. But when, three months afterwards, ships arrived from Hispaniola with letters from Columbus, giving an account of his voyage to Paria, all Spain was fired with new enthusiasm, and the disasters of the colony of Isabella we^e forgotten in the reawakened ardoi 7S DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. for adventure and riches. If Americus had already explored the same coast, why did not Ferdinand, jeal ous as he was of the privileges he had granted to Co lumbus, make known the antecedent claims of Ves pucius ? And what private considerations could have deterred the inveterate hatred of Fonseca from seiz ing such an opportunity to lessen the fame of the distinguished Genoese ? Arrangements were immediately made for Vespu cius to accompany an expedition over the same route. He was with difficulty prevailed upon to engage in it, as he had just formed ties that strongly attracted him to a more settled life. During his residence at Seville, he had formed an attachment to Donna Ma ria Cerezo, a resident of that city; the engagement that ensued was not consummated till after his return from his first voyage, owing probably to reverses of fortune. Soon after his marriage, he repaired to court, where he was graciously received by Ferdi nand, and was the object of marked favor from Bish op Fonseca. Alonzo de Ojeda, who had accompanied Columbus on his second voyage, was then at court without em ployment. His love of wild adventure, and the straitened means to which he had been reduced by his recklessness, suggested the idea of following up the discoveries of Golumbus, and enriching himself with the promised spoils. Fonseca had possession of the maps and charts indicating the route, and im mediately delivered them to Ojeda, encouraging him AMEEICUS A'ESPUCIUS. 79 at the same time to take the command of an expedi tion which he would see provided, though in dishon orable violation of the royal interdiction of private adventure. The bishop kncAV enough of the secret perfidy of Ferdinand, not to hesitate in prosecuting plans that would interfere with the interests of Go lumbus. He issued a commission on his own responsibility, giving Ojeda license to explore the coast of Paria and adjacent countries, with a few restrictions. Ojeda was in his own element while preparing this maraud ing enterprise, in which he fully believed he should acquire fame and fortune, and at the same time grat ify his Quixotic spirit. Being an inexperienced nav igator, however, he induced Americus Vespucius and Juan de la Gosa, both reputedly skilled in nautical affairs, to accompany his fieet. Four vessels were soon equipped in the Bay of Cadiz, at a little port called St. Mary. Forces were readily obtained to man the vessels, as the enthusiasm was sufficient to entice even the haggard, disappointed mariners who had just dragged themselves from the impoverished and distracted colony at Hispaniola. By the eighteenth of May, 1499, the fleet set sail, wholly under the command of Ojeda. Americus seems to have held a position similar to that in his first voyage, and, through the self-conceit of Gosa, mus^ have been overruled by him in matters of consul tation. Americus was modest and retiring in his de- ()ortment, while the hardy veteran, Juan de la Gosa, ^0 DISCOVEEEES AITO PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. iK'ld himself equal to Columbus. He exercised a pa ternal influence over Ojeda, remonstrating at one moment with the headlong, reckless, bot-headed fa vorite, and, at the' next, rushing with him into what ever dangers his rashness carried him, intent only upon watching over his safety. At once a parent, a counselor, and a partisan, he guarded him, expostu lated with him, and fought for him. Instigated by a warm attachment, " this wary veteran," in the words of an eloquent historian, " forgetting his usual pru dence and the lessons of his experience, embarked, heart and hand, purse and person, in the Avild enter prises of his favorite." To his last hour, he followed Ojeda, and sacrificed his life in defending him. These were the companions with whom Americus again ventured to the New World, or beheld it for the first time. The similarity of occurrences during this voyage with the account of his previous one, in duces some of his biographers to charge him with fabricating the first out of the second. However that may be, the voyage prosecuted with Ojeda is without dispute, and during this he worked out a problem which would have rescued his name from oblivion, had no credit been given him for the discovery of America. In forty-four days after leaving Cadiz, they arrived at the South American continent, after touchino- at intervening islands. Americus gives an interestino- account of interviews with the natives, and of their customs. Upon an island near the coast, he found AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 81 a people who wore two gourds fastened about the neck, one containing green herbs, the other a kind of meal, with which they alternately filled their mouths till they were scarcely able to speak. They constantly chewed the mixture, " as beasts chew the cud." He adds, " We were surprised at their conduct, and could not understand for what purpose they indulged in the nauseous practice." If Vespucius and his compan ions could revisit American shores in this century, they might add to their quaint manuscripts, descrip tions of a people who not only continually "chew vile herbs," but protrude from their lips rolls of dried weed, perpetually burning and enveloping them in clouds of smoke, which they watch in ecstacies of de light as it rolls and curls before their dreamy vision, till, pervaded by a delicious langour, or soothed by its magnetic power, their feet gradually obey a law like that which governs the needle, and point towards some polar star. In more respects than one would not Americus' descriptions of his modem namesakes have appeared grotesque to themselves ? These islanders obtained fresh water only by gath ering leaves filled with dew, from a plant which must have resembled the pitcher-plant. Having nei ther wigwams nor huts, they employed the simplest mechanism to obtain a domicil. They plucked an immense leaf from a tree, thrust its stem into the ground, and crept under the green tent, each one a sole possessor of his ample shelter ; if the rain in commoded them, umbrellas hung plentifully from the D* 6 82 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. branches that gave them houses ; if the sun oppressed them while they gathered fish from the sea, the same green canopy curtained their canoes. Blissful in their ignorance, and with no care for to-morrow, life was to them but a voluptuous existence, and death a mys tery they could not fathom. The next island at which the Spaniards touched, is supposed to have been Gurazao. From its loneliness and silence, they presumed it to be uninhabited, but, upon landing, beheld a large footprint in the sand, about which they gathered with wonder and conjec tures, that increased at every attempt to fit its huge proportions to their own size. After wandering near ly a league's distance, along the shore, and through the forest, they discovered " cottages " in a deep valley, occupied by Amazon-like females, of giant forms. A party of warriors, of towering height, bearing immense weapons, soon gathered in from the woods. The pale-faced, gayly-dressed Spaniards caused them as much curiosity and fear as the dimin utive ¦ Leprechauns inspire in the Green Isle ; and the voyagers breathed freely, only when they had es caped the settlement, and placed a safe distance be tween them and the giants, who followed them to the shore. As they pushed off for the ship, a shoAver of heavy arrows whizzed towards them, but fell harm lessly in the track of their swiftly receding boat. A returning discharge of guns sent the terrified Indians on a speedy race for the forests f,nd hills, leaving the voyagers to proceed unmolested Succeeding discov , AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 83 ^rers assert that the inhabitants of that island Avere of the ordinary size; Vespucius, therefore, must have drawn largely upon his imagination. Many of the events of the voyage were entirely similar to those narrated of the first. Irving unhesi tatingly combines the two, thus divesting Americus of all claims to the discovery of the continent, and per mits him to coast Paria for the first time with Ojeda. After exploring the Gulf of Venezuela and sailing along the coast as far as Cape de la Vela, Ojeda de cided to direct his little fleet to Hispaniola, though in violation of his commission. Thinking to excuse his infringement of the articles by the necessity of re pairing his ships and obtaining provisions, he entered the harbor of i'aquimo. As he made no announce ment of his arrival to Columbus, then at San Domin go, and as report assured the admiral of Ojeda's in tention to cut dye-woods and seize the natives for slaves, a party was immediately dispatched from San Domingo, to demand an explanation of the clandes tine visit. Eoldan, the crafty, intrepid and impudent leader of faction in the new colonies, after gaining all he required from Columbus, adopted the policy of ato ning for his rebellion by some act of loyalty. He readily accepted the admiral's appointment as leader of the expedition — a selection made solely to divert his mischievous talent. He sailed with tAvo caravels to the western end of the island, intercepted Ojeda 81 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEKS OF AMEEICA. and his exploring party, and boldly demanded the reasons of his stolen visit. The two were well met, being equally daring, resolute and cunning. Several days passed in various manoeuvres on both sides, but neither gained the advantage. Ojeda and his party finally had recourse to their ships, and put off to oth er islands, in quest of slaves with which to freight their vessels. With a full cargo of Indian captives, they set sail for Spain, and, after a voyage of a month and a half, entered the bay of Cadiz — not without the mortifica tion of beholding, anchored in the same port, an in significant armament which had sailed after and re turned before Ojeda, richly laden with pearls and gold, while his own success had been so meagre that only five hundred ducats remained to be distributed among his fifty-five followers. Americus certainly did not better his fortunes in this enterprise. But his reputation as a learned and skillful navigator, secured a flattering reception at court by Ferdinand, and the patronage of the Avily Bishop Fonseca. The merchants of Seville, to whom Vespucius was well known, undismayed by the fail ure of the expedition he had accompanied, offered to fit out a fleet with which he should prosecute discov eries, and, at the same time, reap the fancied harvests that lay along the South American shores. But while the preparations were being made, some unexplaina- ble circumstances decided Americus to abandon the AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 85 service of Spain, About the same time, a message was brought him from the king of Portugal, desiring him to accompany a newly projected enterprise. The contention between Spain and Portugal, con cerning the accidental discovery of Brttzil, by Cabral, a year previous, had just been settled, and the ac counts which Vespucius had written of his voyage with Ojeda, assured king Emmanuel that a greater and richer extent of country had fallen to his share, than Cabral had led him to believe. Desirous of in ducing Vespucius to enter his service, and explore these newly acquired regions, he wrote an urgent let ter offering him splendid rewards. Americus was then residing at Seville, a city whose beautiful site was the boast of all Spain. Its horizon is bounded by mountains, and the plain in which it stands is covered with olive plantations, hamlets and convents. The Guadalquiver winds through the plain and washes the base of the walls of Seville. The commercial advantages of the city had first attracted Americus ; the wealth and liberality of its merchants, their appreciation of his merits, and its having been the early home of his wife, induced him to make it his residence when in Spain. Here the royal messenger found him and awaited his decision for several days. During his wanderings on the shores of the Ne-w World, he had contracted a disease which his hardy constitution had not yet mastered ; it detracted from his energies and usual decision of character, and caused him to waver in re- 86 DISCOVEEEES ANP PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. gard to the plans laid before him. Having exhausted the patience of the messenger, and still unwilling to desert Ferdinand, yet equally averse to losing the brilliant opportunity of fame and fortune before him, he sent the indefinite reply, that he would think more seriously of the project when his health was fully re stored. King Emmanuel, finding him irresolute, determined to win his consent, and immediately despatched Juli- ano Giocondo, an Italian resident of Lisbon, to urge his acceptance. He was so successful that he re turned accompanied by Americus, who, in opposition to the advice of friends, and without saluting his sov ereign, departed hastily and secretly for Portugal. Emmanuel was rejoiced at this distingushed addition to the corps of his navigators. He was intent upon retrieving the losses Portugal had exjDerienced, by its refusal of Columbus. He welcomed Vespu cius gladly, and directly empowered him to fit out a fleet. Three caravels were soon thoroughly equipped in the port of Lisbon. The flow of the Tagus into the bay formed a bar against the ocean, that rendered the near approach of ships to the city extremely danger ous. Lisbon rises like an amphitheatre on the right bank of the Tagus, close upon the bay, and is guard ed by two forts, one upon an island at the mouth of - the riA-er, the other upon its banks. In this busy and magnificent port, Americus superintended the outfit of :he expedition ; he was not appointed to the AMEEICUS VESPUCIDS. 87 tommand, but, from his own account,, had its nautical management. On the thirteenth of May, 1501, the three caravels set sail from Lisbon, for " the land of pearls," with a gay crew, full of glowing expectations. After coast- ino- the shores of Africa and touching at the Cana ries, they put out into the broad ocean, where, for nearly three months, they were tossed hither and thither, by the winds and the waves. Terrific storms followed each other in close succession, and the sky was so completely overshadowed with black clouds, that they could see but little better during the day than in ordinary nights. To add to their distress and exhaustion, the provisions and water had failed ; threatened thus with famine and shipwreck, and hav ing lost their way in the unknown seas, no hope re mained of again beholding terra firma, and they gave themselves up to lamentation and despair. At this crisis, Americus acquired no little glory from his companions by the exercise of his superior knowledge. Employing his astralobe and quadrant, he ascertained their position, and, soon after obeying his directions, land was descried in the distance. Ee- lieved from dreadful suspense and fear, they knelt, gave thanks to God, and, with returning vigor, sped towards the fair continent that gradually swelled up on their sight in unequalled luxuriance and fertility. Upon nearing the shores, they marveled at the gi gantif vegetation, for which those lands are remarka ble. The trees of immense magnitude, often covered 88 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. with gorgeous blossoms, the brilliantly-plumaged birds, whose gaudy wings were often confounded with the clustered blossoms, and the softness of the cli mate, the more welcome after rude buffetings with storms at sea, inclined them to believe they had at last arrived at the paradisiacal regions, so eagerly sought by every voyager from the Old World. Communication with the Indians, who lined the shore, was not difficult, from the fact that their villa ges lay mostly along the beach. The dense forests, rendered almost impassable by a thick, tangled growth of underbrush, were left to wild beasts, with whom the natives rarely ventured to combat, being unprotected by shields, bucklers, or any kind of clo thing. Americus seems to have been inclined to believe that this race had discovered the secret' of prolonging existence to an age equal to that of the patriarchs of old. Some could point out their descendants to the fourth generation, and informed Vespucius of their great age, by bringing him stones to represent the number of moons which they had seen, one thus laying claim to one hundred and thirty-two years. Their faces were frightfully disfigured, the flesh being perforated and filled with colored stones, or white and green alabas ter, while rings, fish bones, and stones hung from their lips, noses and ears. Tliey valued nothing so highly as these ornaments and the gay plumes with which they decorated their persons ; gold and pearls they readily yielded to the avaricious Spaniards, receiving AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 89 trifles in return, and wondering among themselves at the eagerness with which the precious objects were sought. The apparent wealth of the country, its gigantic forests perfuming the breezes with spicy odors, the mighty rivers flooding into the ocean, the serene cli mate, the new and Avonderfully brilliant stars and un known constellations, the " celestial arch " occasion ally perceived by them with admiration, though, to us, an ordinary phenomenon known as the halo of the moon — all impressed them with an idea of magni tude, riches, beauty and novelty that, with the help of imagination, led them to extol the splendors and treasures of the New World as unequalled and inex haustible. The pen of Americus Avas never wearied in transcribing the wonders of the magnificent king doms, added to the possessions of the monarchs whom he served ; he was indefatigable too, in his labor of applying astronomical science to navigation. Night after night he watched, with sleepless eyes, the glit tering sky, gazed in transport upon the countless host of stars, numbered the most brilliant, watched "the vapors aijd burning flames flashing across the heav ens," carefully noted the conjunction of the moon with the planets, and successfully applied it to the fixing of longitude at sea ; proudly assuring and sus taining himself by the consciousness that this last croAvning effort placed him foremost in the rank of science, and that by means of it his fame would live through ages. 90 DISCOVEEERS \^n PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. ITie commander of the fieet resigned its direction to^mericus, after having explored the coast satisfac torily ; all engaged in the voyage wished to explore the ocean, and discover land still more luxuriant and more abundant in golden resources ; and there was none on board the fieet better capable of safely gui ding them to the distant regions they anticipated, than Americus. He accepted the command, pre pared the ships for a long voyage, and turned their course southward. They swept swiftly over several hundred leagues, till they beheld, with astonishment, the polar star and the surrounding constellations sink below the horizon, and, instead, looked upon a broad expanse of sky,, illumined with unknown groups of stars that bewildered all their preconceived ideas of the limited circle of the heavens and earth. Ameri cus reveled and luxuriated in the magnificent spec tacle that nightly greeted his gaze. The studded canopy seemed slowly to unfurl from the ocean's hor izon, revealing hosts of brilliant " Oanopi " of which he exultingly and carefully took note, firmly believ ing that this great and unexpected addition to astro nomical science, would bequeath his name to immor tality. Attracted by the novelty, and, with a vague hope of exceeding all the discoveries of the age, he pressed forward over the ruffled sea, till the light caravels had outsailed the serene atmosphere of the tropics and emerged into a region of cloud and storm, that tossed and rocked them rudely about, and finally drifted the AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 91 frail fleet towards wild, barren shores, Avhose dreary aspect held out no promises of the riches they sought The cold became severe ; sleet and mists blinded the shivering sailors, and the Italian-born Americus shrank from cold star-gazing, and despaired of arri- -ving, in so uncongenial a climate, at countries which he had promised himself should rival the wealth of the Indies. He gladly yielded his temporary com mand to the '¦' superior captain," who immediately gave the signal to turn about, and steer in the direc tion of Portugal. Days and nights of darkness and tempest ensued ; numberless vows of pilgrimage were made by the alarmed mariners, and every known charm and superstition employed to subdue the angry waves. At length they moved in a more tranquil sea, where mild, soft breezes filled the sails and waft ed the voyagers cheerily onward to their coveted homes. The safe arrival of the weather-beaten ships at Lis bon, occasioned unusual manifestations of joy. Loud acclamations greeted Americus when he landed, and the enthusiastic populace accompanied him through the streets to the place where King Emmanuel await ed him. Magnificent preparations Avere quickly made to honor him ; sumptuous entertainments fol lowed each other in splendid rivalry, and when every ordinary mode of distinction was exhausted, the ship In which ho had sailed, having become unseaworthy, was taken to pieces, and portions of it carried in sol emn, pompous procession to a church, where, with 92 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. much ceremony, they were suspended as revered rel ics. Intelligence of his extensive discoveries was sent by royal command to Italy, where similar re joicings occurred, to honor the success of a proudly acknowledged countryman. His family at Florence were invested with honorable dignities, in token of regard to him. Americus reposed upon his laurels but a few months, at Seville. King Emmanuel was too ambi tious to compete with Spain in the discovery of a passage to India, to permit his most distinguished and experienced navigator to remain idle. A new fleet was directly fitted out; the command of one ship Avas given to Americus, and the chief command of the six that composed the squadron, bestowed upon Gonzalo Coelho. The latter proved a stubborn, pre sumptuous man and inexperienced pilot. As soon as the fleet had sailed, he conceived the idea of di verging from the intended route and coasting Sierra Leone, though in opposition to the united wishes of the subordinate officers, and, as Vespucius writes, " without there being any necessity for it, unless to exhibit himself as the captain of six vessels." A severe storm, which kept them at bay for seve ral days, decided Gonzalo to proceed on the voyage, without landing on the coast of Africa. They sailed three hundred leagues before discovering land. When at last an island of high, dark-grey rocks rose from the se^ before them, they reconnoitred it with Avonder. Obstinately determined upon a near ap AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 93 proach, Gonzalo bore doAvn upon the fatal island. The ship, carried forward by a brisk breeze, struck with violence upon a rock, which split her from stem to stern, and she instantly sank to the bottom with everything most important to the fleet. The captain and crcAV barely had time to escape. In consequence of this disaster, Americus was ap pointed to go in search of a safe harbor, but Gonzalo retained his boat, with more than half of his men, for the service of the fleet. He was successful in finding a good harbor, and patiently awaited the arrival of the remaining ships. Eight days passed without sight of a sail ; the crew were filled with anxiety at the thought of being deserted, or the more fearful suggestion that their companions had perished ; to be left alone on the wide ocean, hundreds of leagues from Lisbon, and in a vessel but half manned, was no trifling cause of fear. Americus could not con sole the terrified crew, and was at a loss whether to venture out at sea, or to remain longer at the unin habited and dreary island. To the infinite joy and ^elief of all, a distant sail was at length discovered, and, fearing lest it should pass without perceiving them, Americus ordered tHe ship to oe put to sea. The vessel they went out to meet prove\l to be une of the fleet, but they were told that the captain had gone to the bottom, that his crew had been saved, and that the remaining caravels had continued the voyage. Americus was disheartened at these rever ses of fortune, yet, with his insufficient crew, deter- 94 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. mined to accompany the one found ship, to ^.he lands he had discoA'cred on his previous voyage. Provi dentially, they had fair weather, which enabled them to reach the Bay of All Saints in safety. Americus then aAvaited the expected fleet two months, but no thing being seen of it, he ventured to explore the coast. The result of this cruise Avas of but little im portance. The caravels were anchored in a favorable port, a fortress was built on shore, and provided with a garrison, composed of Gonzalo's rescued crew ; the ships were then loaded with a valuable cargo of dye- wood, and made ready for a return to the Old World. The sturdy mariners, who had been saved from an ocean grave only to share a worse fate among an un tamed race, beheld the swelling sails bear away theii companions, with mingled feelings of regret and ex ultation, half believing they should never be reunited to their countrymen, yet buoyed with the hope of re turning to Portugal some day, loaded Avith Brazilian gems and gold. But their voices, that flung out a farewell to the departing crews, never sent up arino-- ing hail of welcome. The caravels bounded over the foaming ocean, and wave after wave rolled between them and the shore, concealing forever those Avho gazed after the disappearing sails. The next Euro pean vessel that coasted Brazil, heard only the shouts of cannibal savages, along the beach where the adven- tuiers had chosen their home. Vespucius arrived at Lisbon, after a long, tempest uous voyage. The inhabitants were filled with as AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 95 tonishment at beholding his ship anchored in the bay, for tidings had been received of the loss of the whole fleet. He was welcomed as one risen from the dead. Unbounded rejoicings attended his arrival, but he scarcely waited to receive the honors intended for him, in his impatience to return to Seville. Lie had been installed in his old home only a short time, when a command from Ferdinand summoned him to court. The death of the revered and almost wor shiped queen, about the time of the arrival of Amer icus at Lisbon, had a far different effect upon his for tunes, than upon those of the noble, but persecuted Golumbus. The latter was protected and encouraged by Isabella, Avho ever recognized genius, and venera ted goodness. An upright, pure, exalted soul is at tracted to its kind, Avith an unfailing instinct, and in the same proportion is repelled from a mean, crafty spirit. The sincere, lofty-minded Columbus had the sympathy of the good and just Isabella, in spite of the barriers Avhich scowling confessors and bigoted advisers raised between them ; while the enmity har bored toward him, by the soulless Ferdinand, and the intriguing Fonseca, was indisputable. That Americus was on no occasion countenanced by Is abella — that her death was the signal of his return to court, and of his immediate promotion, and that Fer dinand and Fonseca were his ready sympathisers and patrons, from the first — disturbs confidence in his integrity of character, upon Avhich the strongest argument for the reality of his first voyage is based. 96 DISCOVEEEES AJ^fD PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. Columbus, however, who was also at Seville at this time, confined by a torturing illness of body and mind, entertained a friendship for him, and names him " an honorable man." He had sufficient confi dence in him to entrust the pleading of his cause at court to his discretion and eloquence — a commission of which there is no account of his having executed ; also, upon the departure of Americus from Seville, in obedience to Ferdinand's command, he gave him a letter to his son, Diego, wherein Golumbus mentioned his rival in high terms of commendation. Americus immediately set out for Segovia, where the Spanish court was held. Mounted upon his mule, he soon left behind the towering walls of Seville, crossed the luxurious plain that surrounds it, left the windings of the Guadalquiver, and was soon journey ing over the cool Sierra Navada, and across the rich valleys and vineyard slopes beyond. It was a long, but picturesque, and varied journey, from Seville to Segovia. Wild, rocky districts, and strips of forest, intervened with villages, hamlets, convents, and cas tles ; streams winding down from the mountains, plains overrun with the olive or grape-vine, or trees laden with delicious fruit, successively greeted the eye of the traveler. But Americus hastened past them all, barely resting in the gloomy, walled towns which lay in his way, and speedily pursued his route, anxious and doubtful as to what awaited him. His uncivil and abrupt departure from the service of Ferdinand, several years previous, might justly AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. have given offence to a king who demanded the most punctilious etiquette and scrupulous obedience. But the sight of the distant turrets of the Alcazar of Se govia, was not unwelcome. He traversed the plain of Azoquejo, and passed beneath the arches of the gigantic aqueduct of Trajan, thrown across it to the hill upon which Segovia is perched ; then over the bridged Eresma, which flows at the base of the hill, and at length he entered the gates of the city. The gayety of the court had given place to quie tude and marks of mourning for the death of Isabella. Anxiety, speculation, and uncertainty, were depicted upon the countenances of those who had looked to her for the interests of Castile ; but the creatures of Ferdinand, mingled a secret feeling of exultation at the removal of a felt restraint, with regret for the loss of a universally beloved queen. Americus present ed himself at this sombre court, previously assured of the favorable intention of the monarch. Ferdinand received him graciously, forgiving the marked slight and disrespect of his past conduct, and, not only con gratulated him upon his increasing fame, but in con sideration of his former services to the crown, made him a grant of twelve thousand marvedis, and issued letters of naturalization in his behalf. He was thus qualified to serve as a commander in the service of Spain. Ferdinand's chief object in thus rewarding him, was to secure to himself the services of one of the ablest navigators and cosmographers of that age, E 7 98 DISCOVEEEES ^VND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. whose name was already beginning to be applied to the Brazilian portion of the New World. Columbus had grown old and infirm, and had just gone down to the grave in poverty, obscurity, and grief, at his un rewarded and unacknowledged toil. His withheld honors were heaped upon A.mericus. Having made sure of his services, Ferdinand im mediately gave orders for preparations for a new ex pedition to Brazil. Vincente Yanez Pinzon, one of the three brothers who assisted Columbus in his first voyage, was appointed associate commander. The fleet was to consist of two large ships, and a caravel, to serve as tender to the others. Americus depart ed for Palos, to consult with Pinzon, upon arrange ments for the enterprize ; both, for several months, were wholly engaged in collecting provisions and equipment for the voyage ; but, whichever way they turned, difficulties retarded all their preparations. The arrival of Philip and Joanna in Spain, and their accession to the throne of Castile, occasioned an entire change in all the departments of government. The interests of the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon were united, but the disagreement of the respective sovereigns, Ferdinand and Philip, rendered the posi tion of the governmental officers extremely embarrass ing. The board of trade, entrusted Avith the affairs of the new expedition, could adopt no further meas ures for its completion, lest either monarch should be offended. Perplexed and annoyed at the delay, Americus went to Burgos, where the court was then AMEEICUS A'ESPUCIUS. 99 held, to lay documents, from the board, befoi o Ferdi nand, and to obtain peremptory measures for the completion of the armament. -He had scarcely arrived, when the sudden death of King Philip was proclaim ed in the streets of Burgos. This unexpected occur rence suspended all public undertakings. The inca pacity of the insane Joanna to succeed him, and the unpopularity of Ferdinand in Castile, occasioned con fusion throughout the kingdom. The remaining monarch had neither time nor inclination to attend to other than internal affairs ; Americus was, there fore, unheard. Soon after, complaints and suspicions, on the part of the King of Portugal, in regard to the destination of the fleet, decided Ferdinand to abandon the expe dition entirely, as his dominions were not in a condi tion to get embroiled with a jealous neighbor. This decision was a severe disappointment to Americus. The useless outlay of a large capital, and the lost ex penditure of labor and thought, on his own part, was sufficiently annoying, to say nothing of the sudden check to his ambition. Several months afterwards, he, together with Juan de la Cosa, was ordered to attend court to consult with Ferdinand and his ministers, in regard to the marine affairs of the nation. He engaged in no neAv expeditions, but was employed by the government on several embassies, for which he received fair remu neration. The remaining years of his life were em ployed in equipping ships which were plying be- 100 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. tween the old and the new dominions, and in the burdensome duties that resulted from his appointment to the office of chief pilot. In this capacity, he re ceived an annual salary of seventy-five thousand mar vedis. His time was fully engaged in these occupa tions, for every year increased the tide of emigration, that was flowing towards the shores of America. At Seville, where Vespucius resided, the effects of the enthusiasm for the " land of pearls," were plainly visible in the nearly deserted streets ; it is said that few were to be seen there beside women and children. Nothing is known of the last days of Americus, further than that he expired the 22d of February, 1512. The jDlace of his decease and burial still re mains a subject of dispute. Whether his unrecorded grave lies in the tombs of his native city, or whether he rests in humble obscurity at Seville, or is lost among the countless inmates of the sepulchres beneath the old chapels and massive cathedrals, is of little mo ment, so long as a shadow rests upon his name. When proofs of the honesty of his claims are found by some industrious historiau, among the mouldering chronicles of ancient Spain, it will be time to seek for his grave, and gather his ashes to honorable repose. It is as unaccountable as it is apparently undeserv ed, that his name should have been given to this con tinent It is supposed by some, that in constructing charts, Americus applied his oAvn name to that por tion of the southern continent known as Brazil, with out p. surmisA of the extensive signification it would AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 101 finally attain. He often expressed a wish in his let ters, that his name should live after him. Such a desire might have induced him to assert his first dis covery of Paria, and afterwards apply his name to that, and the adjoining countries he explored. The present use of it was not made till full half a century after his death. Americus possessed none of the brilliant character istics that made heroes of many of his compeers. There was nothing imposing in his personal appear ance, nothing startling or attractive in his address, and no prominent, bold qualities upon which to swing the title of bravado. He was enterprising, persevering, and ambitious ; philosophic, unimagina tive, and without superstition ; sensitive, but calm and reserved. His opinions, therefore, were based upon thorough investigation and deliberate thought, and his plans unobtrusively, but steadily, carried out. His religion was divested of the ceremonies peculiai to the age ; he seemed to regard with pity, the ebulli tions of devotion that every storm at sea occasioned among the mariners, and the consequent vows they incurred. His OAvn religious emotions were evinced in. direct acknowledgments to the Supreme Being, for daily mercies. His name, in this age, rests with a family of five, three of whom live in an obscure street of Florence, oppressed by poverty, and almost unknown. One sister recently gained her own support in Paris, and another, the prodigal Ellena, is well known to have 102 DISCOViSKK^iS A.NT> PIONEEES OF AAIEBICA. dishonorably represented her family in America. Disappointment and misfortune have attended the descendants of Vespucius, and they do not yet behold the recognition of his claims, by the nation which bears his name. The Providence that so often de crees justice to the dead, even after the lapse of cen turies, has appointed to the neglected, robbed, and crushed Columbus, an honored tomb beneath cathe dral arches, and a fame that brightens with time ; while to Americus is given an unknown grave, and a renown inseparably connected with a continent, but unenviable, gathering, as it does, the reproaches and disputes of each succeeding generation. III. FEDIKAND DE SOTO. The accession of Charles V. to the Spanish throne, gave fresh impetus to the spirit of discovery already rife on the continent. The honors and rewards which he lavishly showered, aAvakened the genius, courage and ambition of his subjects. The love of Quixotic adventure, and the almost frantic search after sudden fame and fortune, that had been quickened by the knightly and romantic achieve ments under the banners of Ferdinand and Isabella, turned from the exhausted novelties of Europe, and readily obeyed the new impetus, spanned the " Great Ocean," and rooted itself in the vast plains of the New World. It sprang from the rank soil to a lord ly height, cast its branches far and wide, and bore golden fruit that enticed thousands to pluck and taste ; but death and desolation lay under its shadow, and sweet poison lurked in the tempting fruit. Perfidious and cruel conquerors robbed the Mexi can and Peruvian Incas of their glory, and, in their turn, became the victims of envious or avaricious fol lowers. While they despoiled the southern cities. 104 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. other adventurers extended the desolating search af ter gold and glory, over the wilds of Florida. Ponce de Leon had opened the way to its blooming coasts, while seeking for the fabled fountain, whose waters might restore youth to his veteran face and whitened locks. But he reaped the seeds of death, rather than the bloom of immortality. Ayllon closely pursued his track, dealt treacherously Avith the natives, and re ceived treachery in return. Narvaez next hunted over the same wilderness, for golden cities like those of the South. He struggled vainly through wild mo rasses, left more than half his companions dead upon the route, and, after a long, painful and bewildered wandering, succeeded in regaining the sea-shore, only to be swept away to an ocean grave. The few who finally returned to Spain, persisted in declaring, like all who had preceded them, that " Florida is the richest country in the world." Enticed by these repeated accounts of its exhaust- less wealth, the brilliant De Soto equipped an army, which exceeded the forces that had ravaged Peru, and, with it, penetrated the tangled forests that stretched from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. Like those who had gone before, the well-armed host dwin dled away to a feeble, insignificant number, and their commander received a secret burial in the waters of the " Great Eiver." As the discoverer of the Mississippi, and as the as sociate conqueror of Peru, De Soto stands prominent among the pioneers of America. He possessed the FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 105 heroic qualities of Pizarro and Cortez, without their atrocious cruelty, and as much of true greatness as can be found among the illustrious of that age, a very few excepted. There is nothing to record of the youth of De Soto. He was of respectable, but undistinguished parentage, and a native of Xerez, in the southern portion of the province of Estremadura — a province more remark able for its rugged aspect than anything else. Born and reared where mountains bounded the horizon, where roads led among steep, jutting rocks, and where every ramble led him through wild passes or along the banks of swift rivers, it is not surprising that the national characteristic of indolence should, in him, have given way to an unusual degree of energy and boldness. The tales, too, of the splendid exploits of his pro vincial countrymen among the mountains of Anda lusia, must have had an infiuence upon the ambitious and spirited youth. The Estremadurans are a grave, taciturn people, inoffensive in peace, but indefatiga ble in war. They had formed the most reliable de tachments in Ferdinand's army, and were deservedly renowned for their skillful horsemanship. The fame of their achievements was increased rather than di minished by repetition, and when De Soto listened, he longed to imitate his favorite heroes and attain a like celebrity. Mingled with these fascinating tales of the past, Were exciting rumors of discovery and adventure in E* 106 DISCOVEEEES AKl^ PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. lands Avhich gave more brilliant promise, tfean the re gions portrayed in Oriental legends. The enthusiasm to embark in the novel enterprises, spread from palac? to cottage, from valley hamlet to the most remote mountain village. Even the grave Estremadurans caught at the enticing hopes, and sallied forth from their isolated homes, to swell the irrepressible tide that was rolling towards the distant shores of the new continent. In these hazardous expeditions, De Soto beheld the opportunity to distinguish himself, for which he had longed. He had no fortune, no blazoned title, no im posing equipments to secure him a prominent position among the forces that crowded every westward-bound caravel. Contented with only his sword and buckler, which he knew well hoAV to wield, confident in his long-practiced martial exercises, courageous, perseve ring and prudent, he embarked for the Indies in search of long-coveted honor and wealth. Peter Arias, a Castilian earl, was then Governor of the Indies. His notice was soon attracted to the valorous De Soto, and perceiving his excellent horse manship, and capability to command, appointed him captain of a troop of horsemen, and sent him to join Pizarro, who was pressing his victorious march to the very heart of Peru. He was there received with equal readiness into the favor of the conqueror. It was he Avho was selected to bear the perilous embassy from Pizarro to the Peruvian Inca in the midst of his camp. With a few well-mounted follow f^ FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 107 ei-s, he dashed over the plain, and would fearlessly have entered the Indian camp, that covered an im mense area with its white tents, and teemed Avith athletic and cunning warriors, Avho might at any mo ment prove perfidious. Pizarro regretted the rash ness, and sent his brother Hernando Avith a small de tachment of cavalry, to join De Soto. They together approached the royal pavilion, where Atahualpa was surrounded by royal attendants, attired in the rude splendor of barbaric sovereignty. The stoical monarch received the Spaniards with out a change of feature, though he and his people be held, for the first time, the strange and evidently su perior comers from an unknown world. Without dis mounting, Hernando saluted the Inca, informed him of the pacific intentions of the Spaniards, and invited him to sup with Pizarro the following day. The grave, dignified prince maintained a marble com posure, scarcely deigned a glance at the showily costumed visitors, and sat in profound silence. " It is well," at last said an Indian noble who stood at his side. Hernando respectfully demanded a reply from the prince himself, which he presently received in a tone that assured him of the conscious power and su premacy of the laconic sovereign. De Soto was near, mounted on a fiery war-horse, which impatiently pawed the ground and champed the bits. He easily governed its movements, while he watched the Inca with intense interest and admira tion. He was unprepared for such an exhibition o^ 1 08 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. courtier-like indifference, and stately, proud compo sure, among a race which had elsewhere bowed be fore them in awe, and acknowledged weakness. A single glance from Atahualpa at his splendid charger, was enough to suggest to De Soto a display of his masterly skill. Giving free rein, he dashed furiously across the plain, wheeled about, exhibiting the grace ful evolutions of his steed, and returned to the pres ence of the unmoved Inca in long leaps, that made the Indian soldiers shrink back as he dashed past them. Atahualpa still maintained his gravity and his silence, but thenceforward, he and De Soto held each other in mutual admiration. A few days after, the haughty, but strangely unsus pecting monarch was a captive in his own city. He soon perceived the avaricious spirit of the Spaniards, and availed himself of it to attempt his ransom. He offered to cover the floor of his prison chamber with plates of gold. Pizarro, and those who stood Avith him, looked incredulous. The royal captive rose, his Indian stoicism overcome by the strong hope of lib erty. His handsome countenance gleamed with ea gerness, and his eyes looked out fiercely from the crimson and gold fringe of the imperial horla, that still encircled his temples. He slowly extended his arms from beneath his mantle of soft wool, and, draw ing himself up to his greatest height, told them he would thus fill the room with gold. Nay, the adjoin ing apartment should be twice filled with silver, also. It was too much for the gold-seekers to withstand. FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 109 The danger they would incur in restoring his freedom, and permitting him to reorganize his armies, was nothing to the coveted prize. The treacherous Pi zarro secretly promised himself to secure both the gold and the life of the Inca, and, accordingly, he drew a red mark across the wall, which indicated the limits of the golden pile, and was also a seal of the compact. The two months allowed for its fulfillment passed, and, though the Peruvians had laid a magnificent ransom at the feet of the conquerors, Piaarro still refused the Inca's liberty. Atahualpa expostulated with his captors, and, from the first, attracted to De Soto, besought his interference. The injustice and perfidy of the detention was evident enough to the friendly cavalier, who immediately laid the demands of the captive monarch before his commander. He was unheeded. A rumor was soon after afloat among the soldiery, that the natives meditated an attack, and that Ata hualpa was the secret instigator of the movement. It was said that an immense army was already on the march. Atahualpa asserted his innocence, and the falsity of the rumor. Willing to catch at a plausible pretext for his death, Pizarro revolved a plan in his own mind which he immediately put into execution. De Soto was selected to head a detachment to re connoitre the country, and ascertain the truth of the exciting reports. His fearlessness in danger, and the courage and devotion which he never failed to inspire 110 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. in those -who followed him, influenced his appoint ment. He was Avilling to find proof of the fallen monarch's innocence, and Pizarro was equally wil ling to rid himself of the presence of Atahualpa's warmest champion, till the meditated execution was over. De Soto had scarcely gone, when a trial was instituted against the Inca. The few voices raised in his defense availed him nothing. Though no proofs of his guilt could be found, though he and his people had offered the intruders nothing but kindness, though they had freely yielded up their treasures, it was de cided by the valued ojjinion of Father Valverde, the principal priest, that, " at all events the Inca deserved death ! " The tears, the pleadings, and the rejjroaches of Atahualpa were disregarded. When, at last, he per ceived that he had no power to deter his unprincipled and ungrateful conquerors from their design, he bowed himself in silence, and yielded to his ignominious fate with the sullen courage of an Indian chieftain. De Soto returned with ample evidence of Atahu alpa's truth, two or three days after the execution of that liberal and confiding prince. He came to an nounce, exultingly, the innocence of the man Avhose good faith he had guarantied, but he was met with the tidings of his unhappy fate. Too indignant to regard the superior position of his commander, he hastened to his presence, and boldly dcjiounced his dishonorable measures. Pizarro, with a mock so lemnity that could not deceive the most credulous. FKEDES^AND DE SOTO. Ill exhibited in his dress and deportment, all the signs of sorrow, wearing " a great felt hat, by way of mourn ing, slouched over his eyes." " You have acted rashly," said De Soto, angrily and bluntly ; " Atahualpa has been basely slandered. There was no enemy at Guamachucho ; no rising among the natives. I have met with nothing on the road but demonstrations of good- will, and all is quiet. If it was necessary to bring the Inca to trialjhe should have been taken to Castile and judged by the Empe ror. I would have pledged myself to have seen him safe on board the vessel." The guilty Pizarro con fessed his rashness, but it was too late to recall the deed, and there were few to lament it, since it secured the subjugation of Peru, and left her cities open to their ravages. The imperial city of Gusco was rifled of its treas ures. Sheets of gold Avere torn from the walls of the temples ; idols, and ornaments of exquisite workman ship were appropriated in the name of their sover eign, together with golden vases embossed with fig ures and flowers, goblets wreathed with graceful vines and delicately wrought imitations of plants, among which was the Indian corn. Its golden ear was sheathed in long, silver leaves, and tassels of the same metal hung from their close enfoldings. The most elaborate specimens were selected for the Em peror's fifth; and the rest reduced to ingots of a uni form value, by the Indian goldsmiths, in order to make an equal division of the spoil. When Pizarro 112 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. bestowed upon each of his followers their share, he " invoked the assistance of Heaven to do the work before him conscientiously and justly ; " a manifesta tion of piety, of equal genuineness with that which prompted him to join Father Valverde, in muttering credos for the departing soul of Atahualpa. When De Soto was ready to return to Spain, he was in possession of " a hundred and four score thou sand ducats," and the reputation of having surpassed " all other captains and principal persons " in Pizar- ro's army. He withdrew from Peru, when his sagac ity foresaw the result of the bickerings and jealousy daily increasing among the troops. The fame for which he had encountered danger, was his ; and the riches that had decoyed him from home, were now in his grasp. He stood upon a height from Avhich he could look down upon the world, and could extend the hand of fellowship to those of noble birth, the hem of whose garment he could scarcely have touched, when he left Spain, a poor adventurer. The wealth, prudently economized during his Pe ruvian campaign, he freely la^iished Avhen he re touched the shores of his native land. As if to re venge himself upon his early poverty, he provided for his use a retinue as imposing and expensive, as the most arrogant noble could boast ; attended court, re ceived a fiattering welcome from the Emperor, and occupied a position as prominent and commanding as the wildest dreams of his ambitious boyhood could have suggested. FERDINAND DE SOTO. 113 Strong in his success, he boldly claimed the hand of Donna Isabella de Bobadilla, the daughter of the Earl whom he had served in the Indies. He Avas no longer an humble suitor, but proudly felt that he be stowed as much honor as he received, in accepting the bride, whose high birth he had striven to balance by the renown and gold he threw into the scale. He reached the goal of his youthful imaginings -— fame, wealth and love ; but, so far from finding con tentment and repose, his restless spirit chafed to wing its flight beyond the exalted heights reached by tlie heroes of his time. Nothing would satisfy him but to conquer a province, and reveal to the world cities in the heart of a wilderness, boasting as mysterious a civilization as those to which Cortez and Pizarro had cut their way. All Europe believed that wealthy na tions peopled the northern continent, beyond the wilds of the Atlantic coast, and the brilliant, but strangely exaggerated accounts retumed by every ex pedition, confirmed the surmise. Inflamed by the reports concerning Florida, De Soto applied to the Emperor for its government, and pledged himself to conquer it at his own cost. Charles V. was not chary of his gifts, and, willing to reward De Soto generously, invested him with the titles of Governor of Cuba, and Marquis Adelantado, or Pres ident of Florida, which name was applied to an im mense and undefined extent of territory. The news that one of the famed conquerors of Peru was about to undertake an independent expedition. 1.14 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. produced an excitement that extended even to Por tugal. Men of high titles and large possessions, en gaged in the enterprise, and those who could not otherwise raise the necessary funds, sold their houses, vineyards, olive plantations, and towns of vassals, and repaired to Seville, in readiness to accoinpany the' Adelantado. A company of Portuguese, from San Lucar, visited De Soto, to offer the services of some of their countrymen. They found him at Seville, where he received them in the spacious court of his residence, conducting them to the galleries above it, and entertained them at his sumptuous board, with "show of great contentment." De Soto demanded an assemblage of all who de sired to accompany him, to be made at San Lucar, a town near the mouth of the Guadalquiver, and just upon the confines of Portugal and the kingdom of Seville. A general muster was ordered, upon Avhich " the Portuguese showed themselves armed in very bright • armor,- and the Castilians very gallant with silk upon silk, with many pinkings and cuts," as is related by the chronicler. The gay accoutrements, that might have made a European army dazzling, were little fitted for the rude campaigns of the unciv ilized continent The experienced captain assured them that "braveries in such an action did not like him," and dismissed them to prepare for hardy ser vice. A.t length, six hundred picked men were equipped in burnishod mail, Avell armed, and finely mounted. FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 115 Scores were refused, although they had disposed of their estates, to defray expenses ; the number already exceeded the provisions made for the expedition. Donna Isabella accpmpanied De Soto, and several of the wives of noblemen on board, also consented to embark. Early in 1538, the fleet set sail, with as gay and hopeful a crowd of adventurers as ever committed themselves to the winds. Banners floated, armor flashed, trumpets sounded, and heavy ordnance was discharged, to give vent to their exuberant spirits. After the usual experience of storms and calms, the fleet touched at the Canaries, where the voyagers were honorably received by an earl of one of the islands, "appareled all in white, cloak, jerkin, hose, shoes, and cap, so that he seemed a lord of the Gip sies." The ships were here freshly provisioned, and, after a week of rest, De Soto steered for his new provinces. Their arrival at Cuba was the signal for a succes sion of festivals, and brilliant entertainments. De Soto immediately despatched two ships to seek a safe harbor on the Florida coast Upon their return, with two Indian captives, who communicated by signs, that their country contained mines of the precious metal, the troops became impatient to set out for the new land. The infection spread to such a degree among the Cubans, that, with others, Vasco Porcallo, an old man, lavished all his Avealth upon magnificent preparations to accompany De Soto. Grey liaired 116 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. veterans were as readily infatuated as headlong youths. De Soto bade adieu to his beautiful young wife, whom he was destined never again to behold, left her in command of the island, and sailed for Florida, the eighteenth of May, 1639, with a fleet of eighteen ships. A few days brought them to the Bay of Spir- itu Santo, where they eagerly disembarked. They beheld, with some misgiving, the low, marshy shores, the occasional savannas of tall, strong grass, and the dreary pine barrens, with their thriving undergrowth of palmettos. The dismal aspect was relieved by the gorgeously colored flowers, that made the air heavy with rich perfume, and was enlivened by tho songs and the flitting, to and fro, of the blue jay, the flaming oriole, the cheerful red-breast, and the melo dious warblings of the mocking bird. Anticipating a rich soil, and an inhabited interior, of unequaled magniflcence, from the shoAvy luxuri ance of what they saw, and unwilling to note the un promising hammucks that characterized the country, they formed a gay cavalcade, and commenced the toilsome wandering in a wilderness, from which they never could escape. The ships were returned to Ha vana, that none might be induced to turn back — a measure which so alarmed the aged Porcallo, that he ? refused to enter the suspicious wilds, and returned with the fleet to Cuba. The exploring army was composed of a large body of cavalry and foot-soldiers, twelve priests, who scru- FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 117 pulously imposed every religious observance, and two or three Indian guides. Among the latter was an in terpreter, named John Ortiz. He was a native of Spain, and had been taken captive by the Indians, while -traversing Florida with Narvaez. Ucita, the warrior in whose hands he had fallen, condemned him to be burned, Avith all the lingering horrors in flicted by Indian cruelty; but the daughter of the chieftain — another Pocahontas — plead for his life, and for her sake ho was unbound, and adopted in the fribe. A short time before the landing of De Soto, he had fallen under the displeasure of Ucita, and was again condemned to die. The brave Indian girl, who had before saved his life, secretly informed him of his danger, told him of a neighboring sachem who Avould protect him, conducted him half a league on his way at night, and hastily returned, lest her ab sence and her errand should be discovered. He found his way to the Spanish army just as they had commenced their march, and gladly mingled A^'ith his countrymen, after a captivity of twelve years. He was most serviceable to them as an interpreter. It is no tribute to the humanity of De Soto, to re cord that his army was not only equipped with neces sary weapons of offence and defence, but that it was provided with manacles and chains for captives, and the instruments of a forge, together with ferocious blood-hounds, as aid against the opposing natives. It was thus that civilized races wrenched from the feeble grasp of the Indians their rightftil possessions ; lis DISCOVERRKS AV! Prr,>f.:i;R.5 OF .\MEEICA. loaded them with chains in retum for their unsus pecting hospitality ; forced upon them a religion im possible to understand, when exemplifled by outra geous cruelty ; overlooked their manhood, and crushed them to the earth, wretched, helpless slaves. It is a truth worth remembrance, that those portions of America where civilization was ushered in by rapa city and oppression, are still overclouded by the same baneful influences, while those which were enlightened in a spirit of peace and good-will, are the most flour ishing States on the continent. De Soto's severity is only lessened in reproach, by comparison with all Avho preceded him, and the usages of the age, which, in Avar, spared neither old nor young, and, in the most refined cities of the Old World, licensed a general butchery, Avhere there was not a gentle resignation to the Catholic yoke. The Spaniards assumed that the Indians were an un appeasable, ferocious race, to be tamed only by the harshest measures, and, accordingly, always ap proached them Avith a dictatory mien, and bristling with weapons — the surest mode of arousing their manly indejDendence, and fierce opposition. Such a spirit pervaded the followers of De Soto, as they struggled through the deceitful hammucks of the south, in search of uncertain cities, Avhich their guides at one moment assured them lay towards the north, and, at the next, were equally certain they would find in the west. The horses, though well- trained, continually sank deep into the marshes con- FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 119 coaled beneath the luxuriant groAvth of vines, which were matted with close-set shrubs. The foot-soldiers, weighed down by their heavy armor, struggled with difficulty through the quagmires, beneath a burning sun ; and if they sought shelter from the heat in the forests of gigantic oak, cotton-wood, and flowering magnolias, which intervened, they were soon lost in the dark, sombre mazes of these coverts of unfriendly Indians, or caught in the thorny bushes and clinging ivy that ensnared their steps. De Soto, with thirty horsemen and fifty footmen, went in advance of the army, intent upon finding a province called Gale, where, a cacique had told him, the warriors wore head-pieces of gold when they Avent to battle. After several days of wandering, he ar rived at Gale, but found only a deserted town and three Indian spies, whom he took prisoners. He here awaited the coming of those he had left behind. They made their way but slowly, being exhausted with hunger and fatigue. Provisions had given out. and they were obliged to depend upon the resources of the insignificant villages, through which they fre quently passed. Joining De Soto at Gale, they swept all the fields of maize within reach, and were obliged to beat the grain in a mortar, and sift the flour through their coats of mail, in order to prepare it for ^read. The march was resumed. Every settlement in their progress was robbed of food, and such natives as could be seized were enslaved. Frequently, skirm- 120 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. ishes occurred, in which the Indians, when defeated, sought to save themselves by plunging into the wil derness, or hiding under the leaves of the water- lilies, on the borders of deep lakes, which abound in Florida. The soldiers became wearied and impatient with their unfruitful toil, and saw no fulfillment of the promises of the youth, named Patofa, who had offered to guide them to a rich province. The young Indian, like an evil spirit, led them by a path that narrowed each day, and finally was lost. Yet they followed him through a " fat country, beautiful and very fruit ful," waded rapid streams, again entered intricate for ests, and finally, after fording a deep and wide river, and halting in a grove of pine trees in the midst of a dreary waste of low thicket, De Soto's patience was exhausted, and he threatened the youth with death if he longer led them astray. Patofa declared him self bewildered. Their store of maize had given out ; the men were staggering with weakness; the country through which they had passed could not afford subsistence on thoir return ; before them stretched an almost im penetrable forest; and to 'remain where they were, exposed them to the revenge of the wronged Indians. A consultation was held, in which De Soto decided to send scouts in every direction, to seek some inhabited place. Several days of intense suspense and suffering ensued. One after another of the exploring parties re turned on foot, driving their horses before them with FFJJDINAND DE SOTO. 121 sticks, " for they were so weary that they could not lead them." Some had been left in the thickets and marshes, unable to proceed farther. De Soto was in dignant that any should have been deserted in their extremity, and sent horsemen in search of them, avIio found and brought them to the camp. At length, one of the parties returned, with the re viving news of a small town, a few leagues distant. Inspired with fresh vigor and hope, the rapidly di minishing army set out for the village, leaving a let ter buried at the foot of a tree, with directions to find it, carved upon the trunk, for the benefit of those com panions who had not returned. A supply of ground maize was found in the town, and distributed among the soldiers, many of whom still lingered on the road, unable to drag themselves any farther. When strength and energy were partially restored to the army, they proceeded on their march to a prov ince governed by a woman. She heard of their in tended visit, and went to meet them in a barge, where she sat beneath a rude canopy, accompanied by her attendants. She greeted the Adelantado in a friendly and generous speech, and presented him with gifts of fine skins and mantles, composed of brilliant plumage, besides a cordon of pearls, which she cast upon his neck. She then conducted him and his fol lowers into her own province. Smooth, fertile meadows stretched along the river side; fields of maize lay full and ripe, and groves of mulberry and hickory offered a refreshing shade. F 122 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. The inhabitants Avere courteous, attractive, and, unlike most of their countrymen, were clothed in skins and mantles, both showy and graceful. Pearls seemed plentiful, though greatly injured by perforation and burning. The Spaniards were delighted Avith the as pect and promise of this province, and, with one voice, urged De Soto to take possession of, and colonize it, as it was but two days' travel to the sea-shore, and afforded abundant resources of wealth. To this, the proud, ambitious commander would not listen. He had fully determined to outvie Pizarro, in the discov ery of a Avealthy nation, and nothing could deter him. His resolution once formed, he was stern and infiexible ; knowing this, his followers, yielding without dispute, left behind the tempting dominions of the Indian queen, and again plunged into the dark, miry depths of the forest. The province of a poAverful, sullen cacique, who governed a warlike people, and whose toAvns were enclosed by Avails of Avood and clay, came next in their way. De Soto had, from his entrance into Florida, insisted that each cacique should accompany him to the uttermost bounds of his province, both to prevent the forming of any evil designs against his army, and to enforce the services of their subjects in providing food and carrying burdens. He always ¦ dismissed his unwilling escort Avith courteous thanks. His compulsory demand did not suit the dignity of the warrior, before Avhose towns the Spaniards now encamped. The chief had accompanied them a short FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 12J> distance, but refused to go farther, and, in the midst of his armed people, looked with disdain upon De Soto, and maintained a scornful silence to all his require ments. A misunderstanding ensued; both parties were suspicious, and the anger of both Avas vented in a sudden battle — the first that had occurred since their landing. The town Avas fired, the clothes and pearls, borne by the slaves, were destroyed ; hun dreds of the natives were slain, many of the Spaniards Avounded, and eighteen of them killed. This loss was great to De Soto, as eighty-six of his men had already fallen by the way, either from sickness, hunger, or the effects of poisoned arrows. The second winter of their Avanderings in Florida was fast approaching, and, though nothing but fa tigue and suffering had yet been experienced, De Soto pushed onward, undaunted by difficulties. A second encounter with the natives was an additional disaster. While slumbering in security, in an appa rently deserted town, the houses were fired, and the bcAvildered soldiers rushed from the fiames, unarmed, among the savages, Avho sprung up in every direction. Frightened at their own work, the natives fled, leav ing eight Spaniards dead. Many of the horses were consumed, together with the sldiers' clothing. They were reduced to the necessity of weaving mats of ivj^, for a covering from the severe cold of winter, and of manufacturing saddles of cane, and lances from ash Avood, to replace their loss. De Soto still refused to retrace his steps, though ho 121 DISCOVEEERS XSD PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. had received tidings of a ship that awaited him in port, but six miles distant. He concealed the fact from his men, and would return no account of him self, as his extravagant hopes were yet far from being realized, and the little store of wealth he had accu mulated Avas destroyed. Too proud to acknowledge his misfortunes, he preserved silence, and still cut his way through the dismal hammucks, through the snoAv, and over the inundated lowlands, towards the Mississippi. He arrived upon the banks of that giant river, early in the spring of 1541. In beholding its richly-wooded banks, the trees along the shore draped with the vine which so gracefully festoons the southern forests — the soft, mossy " cur tain of death," — while gazing far down its stately moving Avaters, and above, where its immense vol umes majestically curved from the concealment of rock and forest, and across its wide, deep channel to the opposite, dimly-lined shores, he believed, more firmly than ever, that the provinces it skirted Avere the splendid dominions he sought, and chat those he had traversed, were but the outskirts of the fancied semi-barbarous nation. Acting upon this belief, he encamped his dimin ished army near its banks. The soldiers were imme diately busied in hewing timber, to construct barges, in Avhich to cross the interposing river. The ringino- sound of their labor echoed strangely along the shore, and the wondering natives shot out here and there, in their Canoes, to behold the skill, and cunning de- FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 123 vices, by which the new comers so quickly construct ed huge boats from the fallen trees. Their comino- had been heralded beyond the Mississippi, long be fore they had reached its banks, by the stealthy, swift Indian runner, Avho, like the Scottish henchman sent Avith the fearful sign of the crosslet, to summon Vich- Alpine's elan, Avas bid to "Bend 'gainst the steepy hill his breast, Burst dtwn like torrent from its crest ; With short and springing footstep pass The trembling bog and false morass ; Across the brook like roebuck bound, And thread the brake lite questing bound." The chieftains caught the quick Avords of the " her ald of battle, fate and fear," and with grave, unmoved features, made known to the gloomy Avarriors, the near aijproach of the-scourge that had been prophesied by their forefathers. De Soto had scarcely encamped uj)on the river banks, when his vigilant eye caught sight of a distant fleet of canoes, moving swiftly doAvn the great stream. As they approached nearer, they seemed a " fair army of gallics." The two hundred canoes were long, well made, and filled from head to stem with standing warriors, wearing white or richly colored plumes, armed with bows and arrows, and bearing shields to defend the rowers, whose noiseless, time-keeping oars conveyed them in long leaps over the downward flowing water. As they neared the Spanish encamp ment, the flags, plumes, shields, and canopies with 120 DISCOVEEI-ES AKD PIONEEES OF A3IEEICA. Avhich the canoes were decorated, became more dis tinct. The principal cacique sat in the stern of the longest barge, beneath a canopy, Avhence he com manded and directed his people, Avith a dignity and stateliness that outdid the Estremaduran general, to whom he came to pay homage. The canoes approached the shore, " to see if, with dissimulation, they might do some hurt," according to the Portuguese account, but, perceiving the Span iards well armed, put off in great haste, after sending three canoes ashore, loaded with mantles and provis ions. Tlie Spaniards, interpreting hostility from their Avarlike array, shot after them, as their canoes receded in perfect order. Six of the rowers were killed, but, Avitli a discipline that Avould have done credit to a civilized soldierj^, their places Avere instantly filled. They returned up the river as noiselesslj'' as they came. The camp remained unmolested during the succeeding thirty days, which were occupied in building boats. The river was crossed without difficulty or opposi tion, and the explorers were greatly relieved to find themselves traversing a more open and a drier country than that which had hitherto impeded their progress. The sight of smooth fields, thin woods, groves of mul berry and Avild plum ; trees bearing grateful fruit, and frequent Indian towns containing a peaceful pop ulation, invigorated the Avearied and despairing troops. The accounts of a poAverful cacique, at no great dis tance, lured them on. When arrived at the prov- FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 127 ince of Casqui, that cacique met De Soto Avith o-ifts and offered the town for the use of the soldiers. !Many exchanges of courtesy, and bombastic Avords of friendship followed. De Soto remained in adjoining groves with his fol lowers. Casqui returned to the town, and soon ap peared again, with many of his people, among whom were two blind men. The latter approached De Soto, prostrated themselves before him, and besought him, as the " Son of the Sun," to restore light to their sightless eyes. Touched by their confiding simplici ty, and reminded, by the incident, of the mission of Christ, whose atonement he had failed to make known along the way, except in a warlike spirit, he assured the supplicants that God alone could restore them, and they "should ask whatsoever they stood in. need of, of the Lord which was in heaven." He showed them the cross, told them of the Saviour, and finished by commanding a large cross to be made, and erected on the highest eminence in the town, " in commemoration of Christ's sufferings." The Ad elantado, his troops, and the awed Indians, knelt be fore it and worshiped ; as long as it remained, the be nighted race prostrated themselves before it, and prayed to it as to an idol. Thus, though unwittingly, the Spaniards conducted them to a surer idolatry than that Avhich they already possessed, by offering them symbolic, instead of purely spiritual religion. The cacique of the adjoining province, being at en mity with Casqui, and hearing of his formidable al- 128 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. lies, retired with his Avarriors to an island, lying at the juncture of two streams. When De Soto arrived at the deserted towns, he found them walled ; the principal one being fianked with rude toM^ers, and nearly surrounded by a lake and ditch. An abun dance of skins and mantles Avere appropriated by the destitute troops, and converted into cassocks, gowns, jerkins, hose and shoes. Thus appareled in the robes of the Indian hunters, without the apology of their being the spoils of war, they pursued the owners, and, with the assistance of Casqui, drove them from the wooded island, and took many of them prisoners. Casqui, however, took possession of their goods, and, lest he should not be permitted to retain them, hurried off, without a word of adieu to De Soto. At this, De Soto united with the cacique of Pacaha, and began a march into Casqui's province, upon which the run-away Avarrior made the most humble apolo gies, and placed all his possessions at the Spaniards' disposal. Thus, having conquered both the caciques, Avho had long been sworn foes, he provided as sump tuous a dinner as he could afford, invited the chieftains, and made them friends. But the smoke of their pipe of peace had scarcely curled away, before the jealous caciques " fell at variance about the seats, which of them should sit on the right hand of the conqueror." Again De Soto interposed, and restored good feeling, by assuring them that he considered either seat equal ly honorable. The feast was partaken with the ut most good will, on all sides, and, thenceforth, the two FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 129 caciques vied with each other in gifts and kind ser vices to De Soto. The Spaniards continued their march to the north, after crossing the Mississippi, till the increasing cold, and the reports of a destitute country beyond, deci ded De Soto to turn to the south. His proud deter mination began to fail him, as dream after dream van ished before the stem realities with which his faithful followers fought at every step. No gold, no silver, no more pearls or precious stones rewarded their search. They were fortunate when they found food enough to satisfy the cravings of hunger. De Soto looked with pain upon his few remaining followers. They who, in brilliant armor, with waving pennons and plumes, and prancing steeds, had boldly dashed into the tangled hammucks of Florida, were now traA'ersing the swamps, and pools, and snow, clad in shaggy bear-skins, rough ox-hides, and mantles of softer fur and feathers, bearing ashen lances of their own make, a few steel weapons, and remnants of rus ty coats of mail. ^ley looked like a troop of wild Laplanders, thus wrapped in shaggy caps, mantles, and shoes, and often driving before them, with sticks, the jaded, moping horses, in whose sides every rib could be counted. With but half of his original army left, De Soto kneAV that it was useless to contend Avith the savages. There was no more promise of discovering, here, a second Gusco, or another Atahualpa; and no enti cing accounts of distant riches, to nerve his devoted F* 9 l."() DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. band to meet new dangers. Yet, unwilling to yield, at once, his splendid schemes, and clinging to them with the tenacity of a hopeful and energetic spirit, he consoled himself with the plan of returning to Cuba, for a fresh supply of troops, and then pursuing his search, farther west and south. He encouraged his men, and concealed his own misgivings and disap pointment, by continually dwelling upon this new project, and, with that in view, turned to seek the sea shore. First, they clambered over rough mountains, then descended to a smooth, champaign district, whore they were detained for months, by the snow. The winter passed away, in these struggles to gain the sea- coast Early in March, 1542, they again pressed for ward, and, after an exhausting journey through alow countiy, rendered almost impassable by frequent bayous, lakes, cane-brakes, and forests, they succeed ed in reaching the Mississippi. Encamped once more upon its banks, their courage revived, though each day, some one of their number became victims to starvation or hardship. Their unmarked graves lay all along the route, and many of those who again be held the ocean-ward waters, Avere destined to receive a secret burial in some hidden nook of the forest bor dering the river. The first cacique who visited the camp, was eagerly questioned conceming the distance of the sea, and the nature of the intervening country. De Soto lis tened, with oppressive forebodings, to his account of FERDINAND DE y(,ro. 131 the uninhabited and dreary waste, that characterized the lower banks of the river. He would not believe the disheartening relation, and dispatched a small party to ascertain the truth of it At the end of eight days, the men returned in despair ; they had penetrated but a few leagues, owing to the numberless creeks, cane-groves, and thick woods that opposed their progress. Not a human being, or the-^sign of a habitation, had been seen by the way. How were they to force their way to the sea, over many hundred leagues of marshes, and swamps, without the means of sustenance? De Soto received the' intelligence in silence. His men gathered about him, thoughtful and gloomy, and unable to cheer their commander. His unflagging energy, and obstinate perseverance, had imparted courage, and strength to them till now. That his strong spirit should bend under their misfor tunes, was utterly depressing ; they looked in each other's famished faces with questioning glances, but no one could suggest a mode of escape from the fate that threatened them. Eoused by the sufferings of his faithful followers, De Soto made another effort to obtain relief. He had been told of a cacique across the river, who ruled the province of Quigalta, and was said to be the " great est lord in that country." He immediately sent an Indian, to inform him of the arrival of the " Son of the Sun," Avhom all the caciques of his nation obeyed ; so licited his friendship, and desired him to come to him with tokens of obedience and love. When the mes I ;j DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. senger had gone, De Soto threw himself upon his Ioav hard bed, sick from disappointed hopes and perplex ity. He knew not how to extricate himself from the snare into which ambition had led him, and if he did escape, his pride shrank from appearing before the world, a foiled adventurer. He had for a while sus tained himself and his troops, with the empty pro ject of fltting out a new expedition, but his means Avere not adequate, and if they were, what was there in the wilderness of Florida to tempt him ? His ti tles, too, what were they ? When he received them at the hand of an Emperor, and all the world be lieved they gifted him with power and riches, he glo ried in them. But, what was it to be the marquis of marshes, and impenetrable thickets ? — to be governor of a wild, untamed host, who Avould pay no tribute but coarse food, and shaggy robes? The name of Adelantado of Florida, sounded far differently in his ears, Avhen he had traversed his possessions, than when he stood, an admired hero, in the presence of royalty. He had not courage to face the Avorld, in his reverses, nor to return to his high-born wife, who awaited him at Cuba, in painful suspense. Could he have known, with what faithfulness and solicitude she had, repeatedly, sent ships to the coast of Flori da, to gain tidings of him, and could he have knoAvn that the noAvs of his death would bear her, heart broken, to the grave, he might have rallied a sterner courage, and pressed to the sea-shore, with those who finaUv returned to then* native land. FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 133 The depression of spirits, which at flrst prostrated De Soto, soon induced a malignant fever. While he lay thus helpless, the. Indian messenger returned from the cacique of Quigalta, Avith a fierce, deflant reply to his demands. " You say you are the child of the sun. Dry up the river, and I will believe you. Do you desire to see me ? Visit the toAvn where I dwell. If you come in peace, I will receive you with good will ; if in war, I will not shrink one foot back," was the message of the undaunted chieftain. Poor com fort to the dying commander. A few days after, De Soto called his followers about him, and told them of his approaching death. He ap pointed a successor, asked forgiveness for wrong that he might have done any one, thanked them for their loyalty, and prayed for God's mercy, and the accept ance of his departing soul. He died on the 21st of May. Few attentions, and fewer comforts, soothed his last hours, since a constant look-out for attacks from the natives, who had gathered along the oppo site banks of the river, diverted and distracted the thoughts of those to whom he looked. It Avas neces sary to conceal his death, for the Indians had been taught to believe the Christians were immortal, and they particularly regarded De Soto as a brave war rior, Avhom none could oppose. His death would be the signal for their onset. His body was concealed for Iavo or three days, but the Indians, who had occasionally visited the camp, missed him, and suspected the truth. Fearful lest his 134 DtSCnVICRKRS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. remains should be discovered, he Avas buried in the dead of night, near one of the gates of the little town which they had converted into a camp. The follow ing day, the watchful visitors spied the broken earth, and exchanged glances of suspicion, and again in quired for the valiant leader. De Soto was not suf fered to remain in his unsafe grave. When the darkness of midnight came, a boat, bearing a few grave, gloomy Spaniards, put out stealthily from be neath the overhanging branches of the forest, that lined the banks. The dipping of the tell-tale oars was muffled in soft strokes, yet the soldiers moved breathlessly down the deep, swift stream, as if a thousand dark forms were bending along the shore to catch the sound. They rowed far out into the river, midway between the two banks, where the strange, fearful sounds of a vast wilderness, the rustling and moaning of the wind among the trees, and the shrill, musical notes of the mocking-bird, offered a distant dirge. With the few Catholic rites that haste could bestow, De Soto, Avrapped in his Indian mantle, was lifted to the edge of the boat, and.- dropped into the waters, that opened and received him, and swept ou to the gulf belovvr.-^' The succeeding day, the Indians observed the sad countenances of the Spaniards, and believing De Soto ¦* The burial of De Soto has been represented by an artist, as a bright, moonlight scene, with the accompaniment ef flaming tor-"hes. This beautiful painting disagrees with history, which rep resents the act as performed under circumstances of the utmost con eealment FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 135 was dead, continued to question his mysterious disap pearance. They were assured that he had gone to heaven, but Avould return in a few days. A cacique offered the sacrifice of two Indians, to accompany and serve him in the spiritual world ; but, he was told that De Soto's oavu soldiers had gone with him and would come again. The cacique, accustomed to dis simulation himself, Avould not believe the account. Dreading the result of these suspicions, the Spaniards, under their new commander, immediately prepared to seek the sea-side. They dismissed nearly all the slaves, who had accompanied them throughout the expedition, from want of food to support them. They then embarked in boats, or brigantines, rudely con structed, and yielded themselves to the swift course of the river. After frequent encounters with the In dians, they reached the ocean. There, they Avere many days at the mercy of a furious tempest. At last they landed in the same harbor, from Avhence, five years before, De Soto had led them to expected triumphs, and kingly fortunes. Additions had been made to the small colony, left there by De Soto. His return had long been unlocked for, and it was sup posed, both in the Indies and Spain, that he and his followers had perished in the wilderness. The unex pected arrival was Avelcomed with joyful celebrations, and the forlorn adventurers were conducted thence to Mexico, and afterwards to Spain ; occasioning as much excitement and wonder, upon their route, as the con querors themselves had roused. ]"6 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. Thus ended the splendid expedition, which had promised to outdo all that preceded it. De Soto risked his fortune and reputation in it, and a retribu tive Providence permitted the same cause to despoil, that had enriched him. Personal ambition, more than a desire to enlighten the world, actuated him. He was haughty, proud, and firm, but neither cruel nor unjust, when compared with the ferocious conquerors of his time, or when the bigoted and severe meas ures, universally employed by Catholic nations, are considered. He was honorable, frank and fearless — possessed unsurpassed energy, and an indomitable will. These qualities endeared him to his followers, and, at the same time, enabled him to wield the irre sistible power, which an unwavering decision of char acter, and strong will, gives over weaker minds. His troops would have f->llowed him to the uttermost bounds of the continent, Avithout a murmur, had he chosen to lead them there. De Soto, in all his wanderings, " found nothing so remarkable as his burial place," as a historian justly remarks. His devoted companions fitly consigned him to the depths of the giant river, whichisaperpetu- al record of his achievements. He needs no other inscription upon the tomb, that should be raised to him beside the " Father of Waters," than that Avhich BO briefiy immortalizes Sir Christopher Wren, in St. Paul's Cathedral, — " Oiromns^ice." IV. SIR WAITER RALEIGH. The name of Ealeigh is enrolled among the dis tinguished statesmen of England ; it is upon the list of the coquettish and whimsical Elizabeth's favor ites ; is honorably numbered among the celebrated authors of her reign ; is brilliantly recorded with the gallant captors of Cadiz, and is inscribed upon the pages of American history, both as the seeker of an El Dorado, in the yet half-explored regions of the Orinoco, and as the discoverer, and active patron of the State christened in honor of the Virgin Queen. In this rare, and perhaps unequaled, combination of talent, he proved himself accomplished as a schol ar, graceful and fascinating as a courtier, eloquent and forcible as a politician, an impetuous, skillful sol dier, and a persevering, hardy navigator. His bold and vigorous intellect, and power of concentration, enabled him to engage in a variety of pursuits Avith ease ; and an ardent, sanguine temperament, impelled him to a degree of success in each, which modera tion could never have aspired to, or attained. Shakspeare, tho cotemporary of Ealeigh, may, in 138 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AlIiaiTOA. deed, have drawn from the latter his portrait of Prince Hamlet — "The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword The expectancy and rose of the fair state. The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers I " His faults were as conspicuous as his virtues, and he took no pains to conceal them. Vain, ambitious, fond of display, — unprincipled, though not vicious, servile to those in power, and haughty towards his inferiors, he managed to obtain the mingled derision and envy of his competitors, and extreme unpopular ity among the people. All England detestea him be fore half his career was spent. Among the populace, his plainly visible faults were deemed the exuber ance of Avickedness, rather than recklessly exposed defects, which most men are adroit enough to conceal. The troubled experience of half a century, and a long imprisonment, however, modified and softened the character of Ealeigh. A belief in true Christian ity, and an acceptance of the promises of the Eedeem- er, displaced his early atheistical principles, and pre pared him to meet his sad and undeserved fate with calm, heroic endurance. Sir Walter was the fourth son of Walter Ealeigh, an untitled, English gentleman. His mother Avas the widow of Otho Gilbert After her marriage with Ealeigh, they resided upon a farm, called Hayes, in DeA'onshire, beautifully situated on the banks of the Otter, not far from the sea-coast. Walter Avas born SIE AV ALTER EALEICII. l.'"!!) here, in 1552 — the same year that placed the bigoted Mary upon the throne of England. The seclusion of his home prevented any familiarity Avith the fearful scones of her reign ; whether he listened to their re cital, or Avhat were the incidents and impressions' of his childhood, is not known. Nothing earlier is cited of him than his collegiate course, at Oxford. Of his aptness and application Avhile there. Lord Bacon gives evidence, and, at that time, foretold his future eminence. At seventeen, Ealeigh was a spirited, courageous, well-informed youth, ready to engage in any hazard ous enterprise, in which success would obtain him honor. England, but lately freed from Catholic do minion, sympathized with the suffering Huguenots of France. Her young noblemen gallantly volunteered their assistance to the queen of Navarre, whom Eliz abeth had already befriended. The ambitious young Ealeigh was awake to the enthusiasm that pervaded the high-born aspirants for fame, and, with them, was prompted by a nobler motive to aid the cause of a people, persecuted for their religion. A select com pany of one hundred of the young nobility, under the command of Henry Champernon, sailed for France, and arrived in the Protestant camp in October, 1569. ' Finem det mihi virtus,^^ was the motto inscribed upon their banner, Avhich they bore Avith a feeling of pride and ardor, yet unwithered by experience. They were gratefully received by the queen and princess ; but here history leaves them What feats 140 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. they performed, or what success attended their arms, is not recorded ; though it is to be presumed, that young cavaliers, of high mettle and martial enthusi asm, zealously espousing the cause of their own Pro testant faith, against the oppression of Popery, must have bravely represented their nation. The actions in which they engaged, were the first lessons of a course of five years of warfare, that disciplined Ea leigh into an able commander. A pupil in the ranks of the brilliant, but ill-fated Coligny, and a witness of, and participator in the countless sieges, marches, massacres and stratagems, attendant upon a civil strife, he became an adept in the tactics of Avar. Un der the wing of the British Ambassador, he, to some extent, became initiated in the secret workings of poli tics, and a witness of the skillful manoeuvres of states men as Avell as warriors ; and, an associate of the no ble defenders of the Huguenot cause in intervals of relaxation, he acquired the polish, ease and gallantry peculiar to French society. With his well-stored lessons, gleaned from the field of battle, from the cabinet, and from the gay saloons of Paris, Ealeigh returned to England, and to a re tired, studious life, seemingly with no plan for the future. He preferred the soldier's profession, but, in the halls of the Middle Temple, aAvaited events that would shape his course. It is asserted by some that he studied law while there ; others presume, with more probability, that he was simply a resident there, and that his leisure was devoted to the muses, as his SIE AVALTElt EALEIGH. 141 poetrj testifies. Ehyming was an indispensable ac complishment of the day, and Ealeigh's ready talent Avas as apt for versifying, as for every other pursuit. Several of his compositions refiect credit upon his poetical taste. Some portion of those three years of repose, must, likcAvise, have been devoted to close reading ; his finished scholarship could not have been so thoroughly attained, during his subsequent active life. In 1578, the military career was again open to his choice. Don John, of Austria, was at war with the Netherlands, Avhere his tyrannical government had been sturdily opposed. The sceptre of the States had been given him by his brother, the king of Spain, to diA'ert him from more ambitious designs. His mis chievous propensities, however, could not be rocked to sleep in a golden cradle. Flushed by a successful battle against the Turks, and boastful of the Pope's favor, he formed the project of rescuing and marry ing the unfortunate Queen of Scots, and subsequently claiming the British throne. However absurd the plan, " Don John's haughty conceit of himself over came the greatest difficulties, though his judgment was over-Aveak to manage the lease," as Ealeigh him self says. The haughty Elizabeth determined to pun ish his temerity. A body of troops was dispatched to the Netherlands, under the command of Sir John Norris. Ealeigh joined this army, but there is no account of his having distinguished himself in the expedition. He was, doubtless, present at the famoua !42 DISCOVEEPRS A.M' I'Jf KEIIKS OF AMEEICA. and decisive battle of Eimenant, Avhen,bya cunning stratagem, Don John and his army were completely overthrown. Ealeigh returned to England, and, in the folloAving year, engaged in a voyage of discovery Avith his half brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert. He seized upon every opportunity to secure distinction and extend his knowledge. His early experience in nautical af fairs, however, Avas of short duration. The desertion of one of the largest ships in the fleet, and an encoun ter with the Spaniards, so disabled the expedition, that it Avas soon obliged to put back into port. Notwithstanding Ealeigh's varied and broken life, he found time for intellectual labor. He allowed himself but five hours, out of the twenty-four, for sleep, and four were regularly appropriated to studj'. When unavoidably interrupted by his occujjations, he shared the hardships and labor of the common sol diers and sailors ; mingled Avith them, studied theii various phases of character, and never failed to find sources of information in the most humble. Such en ergy and diligence could not fail to earn a coveted fame. At this time, a rebellion in Ireland called forth ac tive measures, on the part of the English. The op pressive laws Avhich debarred the Catholics from gov ernmental office, roused tho independent spirit of the Irish leaders, and the emissaries of the Pope goaded their discontent to open insurrection. Philip of Spain took part with them, in revenge for Elizabeth's SIR AVALTEE EALEIGH. 1 13 aid to the Huguenots. But, before affairs were per fected in Ireland, Lord Grey Avas dispatched with a body of troops, lo silence the murmurs, by swift and unsparing punishment. Ealeigh was appointed captain of a troop of horse. He occupied a prominent position in all the move ments of the army, and frequently signalized him self in daring adventures and hair-breadth escapes. There was no general engagement ; the undisciplined insurgents required a different mode of warfare. As is cursorily told by Belknap, Ealeigh's duties " Avere difficult, often painful, and eminently perilous ; to capture a rebellious and suspected chieftain, to hunt outlaws, to disperse the hourly gatherings of half- naked, but exasperated peasants, to burn, to ;^illage, to kill," were occupations little suited to Ealeigh's taste. The cold-blooded butcheries he was obliged to superintend, excited his disgust. He would have gloried in a fair contest, on the battle-field, but seiz ing and executing rebels, was not the realization of his ideal warrior. He wrote to the Earl of Leicester, that "he disdained his place and charge, as much as to keep sheep," and hoped for a speedy retum from that " commonwealth, or rather common-wo." His valor and address were signally displayed, du ring his stay in Ireland, on various occasions ; partic ularly in his capture of Lord Eoclie, an influential, insurgent nobleman, Avho occupied a castle three miles from Cork, where Ealeigh was stationed. The road thither led through rocky defiles, and over 114 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. precipitous hills, which were occupied by bands of rebels, prepared to waylay scouting parties. The difficulties of the route, and the seizure of a chieftain in his stronghold, and in the very face of his retain ers, were obstacles that excited Ealeigh's adventur ous spirit. With a party of picked men, he set out on a dark night, reached the castle in safety, and ob tained admittance by a cunning stratagem. After coolly partaking of the nobleman's hospitality, he an nounced his intention of immediately conveying him and his family prisoners to Cork. Lord Eoche en deavored to dissuade him, on account of the darkness and storm, which greatly increased the dangers of the road. Ealeigh Avas not to be foiled, however. He hastily set out with his prize, and, under cover of the storm, reached Cork at daybreak, without molesta tion, but with sufficient evidence of the perils they had undergone, in the dead body of one of the soldiers, and in the bruises several had received from repeated falls on the wild route. The English governor was greatly astonished at the presentation of this noble prisoner. Ealeigh's daring spirit was a theme of admiration in the camp. When the Earl of Osmond returned to England, Ealeigh succeeded him as Govemor of Munster, in conjunction with two other officers. He was en trusted with the chief command of the city of Cork, then consisting of but one street, terminated by a bridge over the Lee. His services in the Irish wars, though sufficient to SIE WALTEK EALEIGH. 115 gain him reputation among military men, could not distinguish him in the brilliant court of Elizabeth. He was entirely overshadowed by the greatness of the guilty and deceptive Leicester, the talented and high-minded Sidney, and the blunt, but influential Sussex. His introduction at court has been attrib uted to those noblemen, but tradition plausibly re lates a characteristic incident, as the immediate cause of his promotion. Ealeigh was excessively fond of display. He had expended nearly the whole of his limited income upon an expensive and gay attire, which vied with the "beruffled and embroidered gallants" of his time. One day, after a shower, Elizabeth enjoyed her usual walk, Avith a gay retinue of ladies and cavaliers, who buzzed as plentifully in her path, as golden bees on the drapery of modern French royalty. Upon com ing to a muddy spot, she hesitated to soil her dainty foot, used as it was to treading the rush-strewn floors of the palace. Ealeigh was near, observed her di lemma, and, instantly divesting his shoulders of an elegantly embroidered cloak, spread it upon the ground, with an air of chivalric gallantry that de Ughted and flattered Elizabeth. She "trod gently over, rewarding him afterwards with many suits, for so seasonable a tender of so fair a footcloth." The strength, symmetry, and dignity of Ealeigh's person, his striking, handsome features, and polite flourish of manner, too exaggerated to please a looker- on, but delightfully flattering to Elizabeth's unbound- G 10 146 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. ed vanity, formed a tout ensemble, that did not esctipe the eye of such a connoisseur of manly beauty, as was the maiden monarch. She singled him out for further consideration ; for, with all her weaknesses, Elizabeth would bestow her confidence or patronage only upon those, whose genius largely filled the measure of merit. Not long after this first incidental meeting, Ealeigh stood in a window recess, and, at a moment when the queen perceived his movements, wrote with a diamond, upon one of the panes : " Fain would I climb but that I fear to fall" Willing to encourage her promising protege, Eliza beth added the unmusical, but significant rhyme : " If thy heart fail thee, do not climb at all" A dispute with Lord Grey, in presence of the coun cil, during which Ealeigh defended himself with an acuteness and eloquence that gained his cause, in sj)ite of his formidable opponent, brought him prominently and favorably before the public, and threw him inti mately in the circles of the nobility. The queen soon honored him with an appointment to attend Simier, the French ambassador, to France, and, afterwards, to accompany the retinue of noblemen who conducted the Duke of Anjou to Antwerp, after Elizabeth's re fusal of his hand. Ealeigh there met the Prince of Orange, who had not forgotten his youthful services in France, and who persuaded him to remain after SIE WALTEE EALEIGH. 147 the others haa v^eparted, and made him the ,. earer of a special letter to the English monarch. About this time, Ealeigh received a license for the vending of wines- — -a monopoly which so speedily enriched him, that he was enabled to prosecute a plan he had long revolved. He had for years been inter ested in accounts of American discoveries, and had engaged in Sir Humphrey Gilbert's last expedition, so far as to superintend, and bear a portion of the ex pense of, one of the largest vessels in the fieet. The unhappy fate of Sir Humphrey did not dishearten Ealeigh. On the contrary, he immediately applied for a renewal of that navigator's patent, with the in tention of himself continuing explorations towards the north. The route of voyagers was, nearly without exception, to the West Indies, and thence to Florida, or to the south. The low shores that swept away to the north, had yet been untouched, except in the icy Arctic regions. Elizabeth approved of his project, and granted him a patent of discovery, in the spring of 1584. With the assistance of two wealthy kinsmen, Ealeigh im mediately equipped two barks, and placed them un der the command of Philip Armadas and Arthur Barlow, who sailed in April of the same year. They touched at the Canaries and the Indies, and arrived in July near the coast of Florida, where they noted, Avith delight, indications of the close vicinity of luxu riant shores, in the richly perfumed breezes that greeted them. Coasting northward, they arrived at 1-18 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. an island called Wococon, cast anchor and landed. The island was closely Avooded Avith cedar, pine, and sassafras. Vines, laden Avith grapes, clambered over them in every direction, and trailed along the shore in rich exuberance, the broad leaves and the purple clusters being often bathed in the surging waves. The inhabitants were found to be gentle, faithful, and hospitable. They fearlessly approached the voy agers, examined them with the utmost simplicity, of fered abundant provisions, trafficked with 'them, and urged them to revisit their shores. Some suspicions, however, were entertained of the good faith of these savages. As soon as the Indians perceived their doubts, they broke their arrows in pieces, and made every possible demonstration of friendliness. The king Avore a crown of copper, as a sign of his rank, and, upon receiving a tin plate in exchange for skins, immediately, and with great satisfaction, converted it into a breast-plate. The wife of one of the principal caciques, a shrinking, timid Indian beauty, wore a mantle of deer-skin, and a string of white coral about her head, to confine her long and loosely flowing hair. Bracelets, necklaces, and ear-rings of large pearls, profusely decorated her person. She as un hesitatingly bestowed them upon her English admi rers, as a modern belle would scatter rose-leaves among her devotees. The captains prosecuted their discoveries no farther north than Wococon, but returned to England, with glowing accounts of the fruitful country they had SIE AVALTEE EALEIGH. 149 seen. Elizabeth was so well pleased with its prom ised advantages, that she christened it Virginia, and encouraged Ealeigh to complete, the discovery thus begun, by granting an additional license for the vend ing of wines, to defray expenses. The same year, the order of knighthood was con ferred upon Ealeigh — a distinction which Elizabeth rarely bestov ed. He was also elected knight of the shire for his native county of Devon. The following winter, he introduced a bill in the House of Com mons, to confirm his patent for discovery. After some difficulty, it passed both houses, and received the queen's assent. The same year, Elizabeth put in execution her design of peopling Munster with an English colony. She bestowed upon Sir Walter and his heirs, twelve thousand acres, in the counties of Cork and Waterford, on condition of his planting and improving them, and in reward of his services during the rebellion. Notwithstanding his accumulation of business, Ea leigh prepared a second expedition to Virginia. As before, he was assisted by Sir Eichard Grenville, who took command of the seven vessels forming the squad ron, and sailed for Plymouth, on the ninth of April. 1585. After narrowly escaping shipwreck, they ar rived, in three months, at Wococon. They were greeted with the same kindness and hospitality as be fore, and the natives piloted them in boats all along the shores of Albemarle Sound, and the adjacent is- .ands. The happy understanding that had existed 150 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. between the natives and their guests, was broken by the rash and unworthy revenge, taken by Grenville, for the stealing of a silver cup, while at the island of Aquascogok. The offender was detected, and prom ised to return it, but, because the Indian delayed its restoration. Sir Eichard ordered the town to be burned, and the fields of corn to be destroyed. The terrified natives fled to the woods, quickly learned the lesson of treachery, withdrew their confldence from the ungrateful and unjust comers, and silently, but surely, nursed a revenge which descended with fearful mystery upon a succeeding colony. Sir Eichard Grenville returned to England in Sep tember, leaving one hundred and eight persons to attempt a settlement, under the government of Ealph Lane. They fortifled themselves upon the island of Eoanoke, and extended their discoveries as far south as Pamlico Sound, and as far north as Chesapeake Bay. Albemarle Sound and Chowan Eiver were also explored. But while absent upon these expedi tions, Wingina, king of the tribe at Eoanoke, formed a secret plot to destroy a people, who had displayed their power so signally on a neighboring island. It was ripe for execution, when the unexpected return of Lane, and its immediate betrayal to him, foiled their purpose. The English seized all the canoes moored at the island, to ensure their own safety ; but the movement both exasperated and alarmed the Indians. A skirmish ensued, in which several natives were killed ; the rest took refuge in the woods. Snt WALTER EALEIGH. 151 ¦Distrust and hatred now existed on both sides. Wingina stealthily scoured the forests, conferred Avith his Avarriors, and led them, Avitli cat-like tread, to the outskirts of the little settlement. But the English, Avhose senses were acutely alive to every sign of dan ger, discovered each attempt at a secret onset. The natives were finally outwitted. Wingina and eight of his tribe were entrapped, and the fate they had de signed for the colony, was inflicted upon themselves. Their death, so far from intimidating the remainder of the tribe, strengthened their purpose of ven geance. Thus, at open war with the natives, the English no longer enjoyed the security necessary to their pros perity. An artist and a historian had been sent by Ealeigh, to obtain as complete a representation of Virginia as possible, but their employments, as well as those of the explorers, were greatly impeded by the awakened hostility of the natives. With one voice, the colonists petitioned Sir Francis Drake, than cruising in the Atlantic, and who touched at Eoanoke, to convey them to England. They were readily ad mitted on board the fleet. Freed from their long- continued peril, they gladly beheld the shores of the New World vailed and lost in the haze of distance ; but not more exultingly than the Indians watched their departure and disappearance, in the huge ca noes they had once been simple enough to believe were borne along by swift clouds, at the bidding of the godlike pale-faces. The mantle of mightiness had 162 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. fallen from their shoulders, and revealed, to the Indians, mortals as little divine as themselves. Had Lane detained the colonists a fortnight longer, Eoanoke might have been a flourishing settlement, rather than the desert it became. Soon after their departure. Sir Eichard Grenville arrived, with a strong reinforcement of men, and provision for two years. Unable to gain any tidings of Lane and his colony. Sir Eichard left fifty men, and the cargo, upon the island, with the hope of relieving his countrymen, if they had wandered into the wilderness. Lane, however, arrived at Plymouth, in July, 1586. He brought Avith him — probably by Ealeigh's sug gestion — the flrst tobacco introduced into England. Ealeigh had met with it in France, and he now made use of it in England. It is amusingly related of his initiatory experience, that his servant entered his study one day, with a foaming tankard of ale and nutmeg toast, and perceiving, for the first time, clouds of smoke issuing from his master's lips, believed he was suffering an internal conflagration. The contents of the tankard were instantly flung in Ealeigh's face, with the generous intent of extinguishing the com bustion, and then the terrified servant ran through the house, shouting that " his master was on fire, and would be burned to ashes, before they could come to his aid." Ealeigh was, at this time, high in Elizabeth's favor. She had bestowed many gifts upon him, and highly estimated his worth and services. He was the oracle SIR WALTEE EALEIGH. 153 of the court, and a leader of gayety and fashion. As the fashionable world delight in imitating the " most received star," and do not presume to omit even the faults of their model, of course Sir Walter had no sooner pressed the tobacco-pipe with his eloquent lips, than all London was puffing the fragrant smoke. La dies did not disdain to indulge in an occasional whiff, and even the queen permitted it in her presence. Ealeigh frequently boasted of its numberless virtues, and assured his partial sovereign that " no one under stood them better than himself, for he was so well ac quainted with all its qualities, that he could even tell her majesty the specific weight of the smoke of every pipe-full he consumed." Elizabeth, though accus tomed to rely upon Ealeigh's good faith, believed he was imposing upon her credulity, and laid a consid erable wager with him, that he could not prove his assertion. He immediately weighed a certain amount of tobacco, smoked it deliberately and gracefully, and, while his royal spectator smiled at the curling clouds, moving away beyond the power of his boasted com putation, he soberly weighed the ashes that remained, and convinced her majesty that the difference in weight gave the proposed result. Elizabeth admitted the logic of his experiment, and willingly paid the bet, telling him " that she knew of many persons who had turned their gold into smoke, but he was the first who had turned smoke into gold." Although disappointed in his first attempts to settle Virginia, Ealeigh, the following year, sent G* 154 DISCOVEEEES AKD PIONEERS OF AAIKEICA. three ships, with a number of emigrants, and John White, as governor, to secure the settlement of the hostile province. The colonists Avere directed to found the "City of Ealeigh," at the head of the Chesapeake Bay, but, by some disagreement with the naval officer, they were obliged to make Eoanoke their destination. They arrived at that fated spot, after a wearisome and tempestuous voyage, expecting a glad welcome from the fifty who had peopled Lane's deserted fort. But not a sound, nor the sight of a human being gladdened them, as they landed upon the desolate island. The rude houses were hiding- places for wild beasts and crawling serpents ; the fort lay in ruins ; the gardens were overgrown with tall, rank weeds ; and the only traces that remained of the unfortunate colony, Avere a few scattered, hu man bones. The long-cherished vengeance of the In dians had been vented upon them, and now, with a whetted taste for the white man's blood, lay in wait for the newly-arrived victims. The busy industry of the sturdy English, soon re stored a thriving aspect to the twice desolated settle ment. One tribe of Indians proA'-ed amicable. Their cacique, Manteo, had accompanied Sir Eichard Gren ville on his return voyage to England, and from that time proved a faithful friend to the whites. By the direction of Sir Walter, he received Christian bap tism, and was created a feudal baron, with the title of Lord of Eoanoke — a solitary dignity, and one that seems mockingly bestowed upon the chieftain of a SIR WALTEE EALEIGH. 155 race whose rights were usurped, and whose existence was soon to be but a tradition. A birth, as well as a baptism, is recorded in the short history of this colony. Eleanor Dare, the Avife of one of the assistants, and the daughter of Governor White, gave birth to the first English child on the soil of the United States. It was named Virginia, in honor of its birth-place. Soon after these events, and before the departure of the ships, it was found neces sary to dispatch some one to England for assistance, as dependence had been placed upon the expected success of the previous colony. None was so compe tent to seek it as Governor White. He was unani mously chosen ; but a sense of honor caused him to demur. The colony had been entrusted to his guar dianship, and he was unwilling to desert it. His scruples were finally overruled, and he departed for England, leaving his daughter and grand-child as pledges of his speedy return. When Governor White arrived in England, he found it in a state of agitation and alarm, on account of the threatened invasion of Spain. Sir Walter Ea leigh was one of the queen's council of war, and it was impossible to gain his attention to the danger of his distant colony, when home affairs so instantly de manded his time. The importunities of the governor, however, secured the outfit of two vessels, under Sir Eichard Grenville ; these were ready for sailing, and only waited for a fa r wind, when the increasing alarm throughout the kingdom, and the rapid ap- 156 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. proach of the Invincible Armada, caused every shif in port to be retained for defence. Whatever were the feelings of White, in seeing the colony thus neglected, it was useless to plead any further. It was not till spring approached, that he could again be heard. Ealeigh was still overwhelmed with business, and had made heavy disbursements in the cause that awakened so much patriotism. But he was deeply interested in the Virginian settlement, and his sympathies were enlisted in its apprehended fate. He ordered two ships to be prepared, which sailed in April, 1588, with fifteen " planters," and an abundant supply of provisions. These " planters," more bent upon the pursuit of riches than upon aiding the colony, went in chase of Spanish ships that fell in their way, and, with the audacity of conquerois, fresh - from victory, battled with the superior ships, and were defeated. Eifled and disabled, they were obliged to return to England, to the mortification of Sir Walter, and his displeasure at this fatal delay. Ealeigh's resources had been enlarged by the queen, yet his expenditures had been so great that he could no longer support his undertakings in America. The failure of each expedition disheartened him ; and as he saw no probability of a reimbursement of the forty thousand pounds of his own and his friends' fortunes, already expended, he made an assignment of his pa tent to several London merchants, with a donation of one hundred pounds for the propagation of the Chris tion religion in Virginia. SIE WALTEE EALEIGH. 157 An expedition was not in readiness till the follow ing year, 1590, in which Governor White embarked, with the faint hope of relieving his countrymen. Three years had passed since he left them. Despite his exertions, not a vessel had touched upon their shores during those years. The thought of his be loved and suffering daughter, and of his friends, left to perish in a wilderness, among hostile savages, har rassed him continually. His suspense and anxiety were increased by the failure of each of his efforts, at the moment of expected success. He scarcely believed this last expedition would be effected. When the fleet finally sailed, his eagerness was severely tried by the obduracy and indifference of the officers. He wrote bitterly to Hakluyt, that " the governors, mas ters, and sailors regarded very smally the good of their countrymen in Virginia," as, with all his urgent entreaties, they made no haste, nor cared to maintain the shortest route. When they arrived at the island of Eoanoke, it was a desert. The trees and grass were blackened and burnt, and the houses were de molished, and converted into palisades. The word Croatan was carved upon one of the trees. With the faint hope of finding the sufferers on the island of that name, the ships set sail again, but, owing to storms and threatened shipwreck, returned to Eng land without further search. Whether the colonists lingered through the long horrors of a famine, or whether they amalgamated with the friendly Indians 158 DKCOVEEESS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. and were scattered over the continent, or if they AVore victims to the hatred of the same tribe that sacrificed the former settlers of Eoanoke, is impossible to know. History leaves them there. Ealeigh, however, re peatedly attempted to discover the mystery, perhaps at the instigation of White, who could not reconcile himself to the fearful fate of those endeared to him by precious ties. The island of Eoanoke is to this day uninhabited, except, as a late historian says, by " the intrepid pilot and the hardy wrecker ; " who, " in their natures, wild as the storms to which their skill bids defiance, unconscious of the associations by which they are surrounded, are the only tenants of the spot where the inquisitive stranger may yet discern the ruins of the fort, round which the cottages of the new settlement were erected." Ealeigh's ambition was now centered upon martial achievements. The military spirit of the oldest vete rans, as well as of the youngest scions of nobility, was roused by the signal success of English arms, over the boasted Armada, and they eagerly engaged in a newly- proposed enterprise. The jealousy and hatred still entertained towards the Spaniards, found opportunity to exhaust itself in the cause of the Portuguese monarch, Avho had been expelled from his throne by King Philip, of Spain. Don Antonio was in London, at the time of the defeat of the Armada, and, taking advantage of events, ap plied to Elizabeth for aid. She readily granted it , SIR WALTEE EALEIGH. 159 for, proud of the gallant defence sustained against the invaders, she was willing to parade her power in the very face of the enemy. Ealeigh engaged in this expedition. Though brave, ardent, and skillful, he failed to excel the host of com petitors, equally ambitious to be the heroes of battle. He shared with others, the honor of a golden chain, from the hands of the queen, in reward for his ser vices ; but this could not have satisfied his aspira tions. He had a rival at court, in the person of the fascinating Earl of Essex ; and, in order to retain his OAvn position, left no means untried, to signalize him self. His young antagonist had a powerful supporter, in the Earl of Leicester, who had befriended Ealeigh, till " he found him such an apprentice as well enough knew how to set up for himself," and then successfully interposed his accomplished son, to the infinite cha grin and uneasiness of the old favorite. Ealeigh began noAV to experience the fickleness of royal favor. For some slight offence he was banished to Ireland. He consoled his disgrace, however, by passing his exile with the poet Spenser, in his beau tiful retreat, upon the banks of the MuUa. They had formed a mutual friendship during the Irish rebel lion, when Spenser was secretary under Lord Grey. Queen Elizabeth had bestowed upon the poet a large grant of land, on condition that he should colonize it ; with that in view, he resided at his Castle of Kilcol- man, in ArmuUadale, which he happily pictures in " Colin Clout's come home againe." It was in this 160 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. unfrequented home, that Sir Walter, whom he names in his poem, the "Shepherd of the Ocean," found him one day — "TJnder the foot of Mole, that mountain hoar, Keeping his sheepe among'st the eooly shade Of the green a'lers, by the Mullae's shore." With his finely cultivated mind, his poetical taste, and his ready appreciation of genius, Ealeigh must have luxuriated in this exchange of the clamor, in trigue and wearing ambition of court life, for the soothing retirement of Kilcolman Castle, and the so ciety of the imaginative and entertaining Spenser. They wandered together, along the banks of the riv er, lingered under the shade of the larch, myrtle, and rare arbutus, or looked from the high towers of the castle upon the reach of green hill and dale, the distant ridges of the Bogra mountains, and the intervening lakes. Spenser amused his guest with the romances and wild traditions of Ireland, and Ealeigh portrayed the passions and intrigues of the royal palace. The mo dest poet at length ventured to produce his half-fin ished manuscript of the " Faerie Queene," for his friend's approval. Ealeigh was enthusiastic in his admiration, and urged him to give it to the world. He promised his introduction to Queen Elizabeth, and the infiuence a favorite can exert, on the condition of his accompanying him to England. Spenser con sented. The result was, the gift of a pension, and an SIE WALTEE EALEIGH. 161 ' honorable notice, but not the hoped-for appointment of poet laureate. Ealeigh Avas cordially welcomed back by the queen. Always fearless and open in his address, he present ed the petitions of the many who applied to him, as freely and boldly as if he had never been a moment under her displeasure. The nature of the applica tions, though often perplexing, heightened the medi ator in her esteem, and she seldom gave an unfavor able reply. His generous interference in the case of a clergyman, unjustly imprisoned, and in that of a poor officer, deprived of his dues, are among the ma ny instances of his noble use of power. " He was above the narrow apprehension of repulse, or of laying himself under obligations." His intercessions were so frequent, at this time, that, on one occasion, Eliza beth impatiently asked, — " When, Sir Walter, will you cease to be a beggar ? " He promptly and grace fully replied, — " When, madam, you cease to be a benefactress." In 1591, Ealeigh was busily engaged in preparing for an expedition to Panama, with the intention of capturing, on the way, the Spanish fleet, which was expected to retum from America, laden with newly gathered riches. The proposition so well recom mended itself to the public, that thirteen ships were equipped by private adventurers, and two others were added by the queen, in approbation of the scheme. Sir Walter was appointed general of the fleet. With high expectations, the squadron sailed May 6th, 1 592. 11 162 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. Unfavorable winds detained them upon the coast, till the season for executing their purpose, passed. Or ders were received from the queen to abandon the enterprise, but Ealeigh was unwilling to give way before the first obstacle, and persisted in his design. He afterwards received intelligence, that the king of Spain had anticipated his measures, by detaining all his vessels in port, and ordering that no treasures be shipped from the Indies. Thus foiled. Sir Walter was obliged to retum to England, after a short cruise, with but one captured vessel. Soon after his return, he was arrested for a dishon orable intrigue with one of the queen's maids of honor, Elizabeth Throckmorton. She was the daugh ter of a statesman and ambassador, and celebrated for her beauty. That her envied loveliness should have won Sir Walter, and that he should have dared to ad mire any beside herself, was as unpardonable an of fence, in the eyes of the vain queen, as the delin quency of principle and virtue. She was disappoint ed, too, to find that Ealeigh's flattery was as insincere as that of Essex, whose deeds always belied his words. She revenged herself, and punished the lovers, by committing both to the Tower. Ealeigh resorted to an efficacious, but servile method to obtain his lib erty. He pretended to be overpowered with grief at his separation from her majesty. One day, while the royal barge was passing up the Thames, he af fected to become frantic at the sight, and attempted to rush down a stone stair-case that led from his win- sm WALTEK EALEIGH. 163 dow. The keeper interposed, and a struggle ensued, in which Ealeigh tore off the jailer's new periwig, and threatened to strike him Avitli his dagger. He was flnally carried back to the prison chamber, suffi ciently satisfied that his ferocious attempt to see her majesty, would be duly reported to her, and have the desired effect. He also wrote a letter to Sir Eobert Cecil, intended for the eye of the credulous queen, who delighted in nothing so much as to be praised for beauty she did not possess. " How," wrote he, " can I live alone in prison, when she is afar off — I, who was wont to be hold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus — the gentle wind blowing her fair hair (both false and red) about her pure cheeks, like a nymph. Sometimes sitting in the shade like a goddess, sometimes playing on the lute like Orpheus." Two months after Ealeigh penned this absurd and unmanly epistle, he was free. He immediately mar ried the lady, who, with him, had incurre'd disgrace ; but this reparation, so far from appeasing the wrath of the queen, magnified the offence, for, as Agnes Strickland pleasantly says, " She certainly imagined that it was part of her prerogative, as a maiden queen, to keep every handsome gentleman of her court in single blessedness, to render exclusive homage to her perennial charms." Yet, the same year, she granted him the manor of Sherbourne, in Dorsetshire, which he embellished with the utmost care and tasto Gf-oves and artificial lakes ornamented the grounds. 164 DISCOVEEERS AND PIO'EERS OF AMERICA. and rare shrubs and trees, from every clime, were gathered here to convert his new home into an Eden. He made this his residence daring his retirement, for Elizabeth had forbidden his appearance at court. Despite the queen's displeaRure, Sir Walter was elected a member of the Parliament which met in the spring of 1593. He was distinguished for his el oquence, having a fine command of language, and an inexhaustible fund of information, from which he made the most skillful selections. His arguments were rendered forcible by well-timed facts, and his imaginative qualities gave beauty and finish to his gracefully delivered speeches. While actively engaged in Parliament, he found time to perfect a scheme which had suggested itself to his restless mind, during his impriaonment He had long sought to engage in some memorable ex ploit, that should distinguish him above all the nota bles of Elizabeth's reign, and irresistibly recommend him to her favor. The one he now purposed, was to conquer and explore the storied and beautiful empire of Guiana. Though the bravest of Spanish cavaliers had fallen in the attempt, and, though for a hundred years, fieet after fieet, and army after army, had been sacrificed in the blind search after the fabled El Do rado, still Ealeigh was not daunted. The very dan gers it promised, attracted him. Unlike those who had gone before, he studied the causes of so many failures, informed himself, thoroughly, of the routes that had been pursued, consulted every possible SIE WALtiOt EALEIGH. 165 source of information conc«rning those who had en gaged in previous expeditions, and, from all he could gather, formed a plan which, being divested of the errors of his predecessors, he felt confident would succeed. He first dispatched an experienced captain to re connoitre the coast, and learn from the natives the truth of narrations which, though extravagant and absurd, were credited by many of the most intelligent of his time. The captain returned with satisfactoiy accounts of the empire's grandeur, and of the treachery of the Spaniards already settled there ; they having massa ered some of the English sailors, after decoying them to their town, on pretense of furnishing supplies. This reAQved Ealeigh's early hostility towards the Spaii- -ards, and gave zest to his preparations. His fleet, consisting of flve ships, sailed for Guiana February sixth, 1595, and arrived at Trinidad in March. He coasted a portion of that island, whose longest measurement is between sixty and seventy miles ; and traveled for miles on foot, along the shore under the shade of banyan groves, some of whose thousand branches " planted themselves in the sea, and bore oysters." The banyan had its place among the fables of Guiana, as the " Tree of Knowledge." At Puerto de los Espanoles, the voyagers found a company of Spaniards, who gave them valuable infor mation of the topography and resources of the coun try. The city -)f St. Joseph was but a short distance 166 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEER,? OF AMERICA. from that settlement. Ealeigh Avas determined to revenge himself upon it, for the massacre of his men, the previous year ; he was unwilling, too, to leave so formidable and wily an enemy in his rear, and hoped also, to gain the friendship of the natives, by deliv ering some of their principal caciques, who were fam ishing in chains, under the cruel power of Berreo, th-? Spanish governor. For these reasons, he surprised and burned ?he city, and took the govemor prisoner. He instantly released the suffering captives who, years afterwards, with Indian tenacity of memory, gratefully reminded him of his timely aid. This act, applauded as " noble " by some of Ealeigh's biogra phers, would be a most generous one, were not selfish motives too apparent, to name it anything higher than the skillful mancEuvring of a conqueror. Ealeigh prepared to leave his ships at Trinidad, and to proceed, Avith one hundred men, to ferret out the wonders of Guiana. A small galley, a barge, two wherries, and a ship's boat, Avere the insignificant ac companiments of the expedition. Berreo Avarned Ealeigh of the difficulties he Avould meet, and at tempted to dissuade him from his purpose ; but, blind ed by the same false imaginings, the same visionary dreams, that had enticed others, he pushed on with a vigor and resolution, that increased, rather than di minished, at the dismal prospect his prisoner painted. The strong current between the continent and the island of Trinidad, occasioned by the outward fiow of the Orinoco, renders the approach of vessels to the SIE WALTEE EALEIGH. 167 main land extremely dangerous. Dark rocks raise their isolated heads in the midst of the solitary gulf ; the green-colored, and rapid waters of tho Orinoco dash over them in milk-white foam, struggling furi ously with the dark blue waves of the sea. Into this fearful play of waters, Ealeigh fearlessly plunged, and marvelously escaped the peril Berreo had prom ised at the outset. But when arrived among the num berless outlets of the great river, intricately braided, and apparently floAving in every direction, he was completely bewildered. At length, with the assist ance of an old Indian guide, the river of the "Eed Cross " was selected and pursued. As had been foretold, the explorers soon began to suffer from the drenching rains, the burning heat, and the destruction of their provisions by exposure to the weather. But, they continued their course with un failing courage, till, striking into the Amana, one of the largest tiibutaries of the Orinoco, they were obliged to row against a strong current, between banks set Avith prickles and thorns, and lined with overhanging trees. The branches were interlaced above them, shutting out every stirring breeze, and enclosing a humid, hot atmosphere, laden with mos quitoes and sAvarms of minute insects. The intermi nable Avindings of this labyrinthian stream, — the im possibility of landing, and the effects of unaccus tomed heat and constant labor, made them " ready to give up the ghost." They would have tumed back, had not Ealeigh, who shared their toil and pri- 168 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. vation, urged them on, by recounting the reward they would find in the golden city of Manoa. When at the last extremity of suffering, " in des pair and discomfort, the current every day stronger, themselves growing weaker, their bread at the last, and no drinke at all," they were suddenly relieved by emerging into an open and beautiful country, inter sected by narrow streams, and occasional groves. An Indian village greeted their eyes, in this oasis of the wilderness they had traversed. Here they gladly refreshed themselves with the rude fare and kind hos pitality of the natives. Fifteen days of their re sumed voyage brought them to the Orinoco, and in sight of the long looked for mountains of Guiana, where were hidden the coveted mines, or among whose fastnesses El Dorado was concealed. They sailed up the magnificent river, that, ocean-like, had its shoals, its foaming billoAvs, its islands and rocks, and coasted along its banks, that rolled back in rich, un dulating plains, or were bordered Avith cocoas and towering palms. They anchored, at length, in the port of Morequito, three hundred miles from the sea. Exploring parties were now sent out in every direc tion, to ascertain the nearest route to the mountains, or to seek the best gold-yielding soil. Sir Walter, with a small company, went in search of the Falls of Garoli, to whose roaring they listened while twenty miles distant. The scene that met Ealeigh's eye in spired him with a poet's enthusiasm. Doubtless, the belief in the close vicinity of the phantom city, and sm WALTEE EALEIGH. 169 the sure prospect of success after all their hardships, threw a brilliant coloring over the varied and striking landscape which Ealeigh saw from the heights of Caroli. Twelve falls, " every one 'as high over the other as a church tower," thundered and foamed down a channel, between tree-lined rocks, into the plain below, and rolled along, -with a swift current, that poured into the Orinoco. The windings of the Ama na were visible in the glimpses of a distant plain ; the intervening hills were crowned with the magnificent luxuriance, which foliage attains only in the warm est climes; and, far beyond, hazy mountains were outlined against the sky. Deer, tame as if accus tomed to a keeper's call, bounded through valleys enameled Avith gorgeous flowers, and " cranes and herons of white, crimson, and carnation, dipped their long necks at the river's side." Invigorated by the contrast between this pictur esque region, and the desolate one lately traversed, Ealeigh and his companions Avandered for ihiles, to acquaint themselves more minutely with the resour ces of the country. They journeyed with little fa- tigue'over the " faire, greene grasse," listening to the " birdes that, towards the evening, sang on every tree with a thousand severall tunes." They searched among the rocks for gold, and precious stones, dig ging out marcasite, and mother-of-gold, and sap phires, with the point of the dagger. So infatuated were these adventurers, that, as Ealeigh himself says, " every stone that we stouped to take up, promised H 170 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. either gold or silver by his complexion." With equal credulity, they stored up the tales of the Indians con cerning a tribe of men " whose heads appeared not above their shoulders." With little else than these Oriental fables and mock metals, the explorers reunited at the port of Morequito. Unable to penetrate farther into the country, and, fearful of being detained by the swelling rivers, they decided to return without delay to the sea-coast. Long days and nights of suffering, were the accompani ments of their sea-ward voyage. The swift and dan gerous currents, and the surging and boiling of the Orinoco, occasioned by the influx of flooded streams, rendered the safe passage of boats nearly impossible. The foaming rapids, often a mile in extent ; the thick vapor which continually hung above those cataracts, and concealed the shore, except where tall palms shot up their leafy tops ; the massive, iron-black rocks that towered up from the torrent, often crowned with trees, and oftener with gorgeous, diamond-sprayed flowers in clusters, or hanging in disheveled mats over the dark ledges — altogether, formed a scene of beau ty and grandeur, in Avhich the bold pencil of a Turner might have reveled. After skillfully piloting their frail boats down this leviathan river, and narrowly escaping shipwreck at its mouth, during a storm, the exhausted crews safely reached Trinidad. They beheld, with tears and thanks giving, their ships still anchored in the bay. Prepa rations were immediately made to return to England. sm WALTER EAXEIGH. 171 The arrival of the fleet in England, occasioned much curiosity, as expectation was on tip-toe for wonderful revelations. Credulous as was the age, and prepared as the millions were, by Spanish adven tures, for marvelous tales of the New World, no one would believe the assertions of Ealeigh and his com pany. Possessed of unbounded credulity himself, Ealeigh gravely repeated the Indian accounts, and pictured Guiana in glowing colors. He published an account of his voyage, and entreated the queen to possess herself of an empire that exceeded every other on the globe, in population and riches. But, contra ry to Ealeigh's expectation, her majesty took no note whatever of his services. His absence and occupa tion, so far from restoring him to her favor, had in creased her coldness towards him. His numerous enemies, instead of forgetting him, as he had hoped, took advantage of his absence to influence Elizabeth strongly against him. Disappointed in his reception, he turned to the people for sympathy and i.o6peration in his plans. An enterprise, which had yet produced nothing but fables, called forth the derision of the populace. Ea leigh's reputation for veracity had never been honor able, and what he now asserted had no weight Avhat- ever. Some charged him with having lain hidden in England, during the whole voyage, and that his ac count was a gross fabrication. Even historians re corded it as an impudent imposture. Not the least credit was given him for his unequaled success in 172 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. penetrating a country peopled with hostile tribes, without sacrificing the life of a single Indian. Every other explorer of American forests, had drenched the soil with the blood of its rightful possessors. Ealeigh eloquently repelled the false charges show ered from every quarter. He wrote that, though he had retumed " beggared and withered," his remain ing years were " bequeathed to Ealena," as he termed the region of the Orinoco. He was unwilling, how ever, to accompany another expedition, without the countenance of the crown, for, said he, " It had sorted ill with the offices of honor, which, by her majesty's grace, I hold this day in England, to run from cape to cape, and place to place, for the pillage of ordina ry prizes." His purpose had been to colonize Guiana. Foiled in that, he determined at least to maintain in tercourse with the natives, and, if possible, yet dis cover Mantoa. With the assistance of Sir Eobert Cecil, and Howard, and by means from his private purse, he. prepared and sent two ships, under Captain Keymis. The voyage occupied but a few months, and nothing essentifil was accomplished. During the year 1596, Ealeigh was engaged, by royal appointment, in the expedition of Cadiz. Es sex and the lord-high-admiral held the chief com mand in the expedition, but a council of five was appointed, to keep them in harmony. Ealeigh was one of the council. The fleet consisted of one hun dred and flfty vessels. Favoring winds gave them a rapid run to the Spanish coast, and such had been the sm WALTEE EALEIGH. 1 7S celerity of the whole movement, and their success in intercepting CA'ery vessel which could have conveyed the news, that they anchored in St. Sebastian's Bay, near Cadiz, before the Spaniards had scented the ap proaching danger. An action, in which Ealeigh bore a conspicuous part, soon commenced with the powerful Mexican and Spanish fleets, stationed in the harbor. The con test was close and fierce. Ship after ship was sunk or blown up. Before night the Spaniards were signal ly defeated. Their soldiers " tumbled into the sea like coals out of a sack." " The spectacle," says Ealeigh, " was very lamentable on their side ; for many droAvned themselves; many, half-burnt, leaped into the Avater ; very many hanging by the ropes' ends, by the ships' sides, under the water to the very lips ; many swinging with grievous wounds, strucken un der water, and put out of pain ; and withal, so huge a fire, and such tearing of the great ordnance, in the San Philip, and the rest, when the fire came to them, as, if any man had a desire to see hell itself, it was there most lively figured." Every Spanish ship in the harbor was destroyed, except two, captured by Ealeigh. The army imme diately landed, carried the city of Cadiz, by a couj) de main, and pillaged it. Though disabled by a wound during the day, Ealeigh, after being carried ashore, mounted a horse, and entered the city with the rest, but extreme pain obliged him to return to his battered ship. 174 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. In fifteen days from their arrival, the army reem barked, sacked the town of Faro, in Portugal, on their homeward sail, and laden with the riches of Cadiz, and the literary treasures of the famous library of Osorius, arrived at Plymouth the tenth of August. Essex hastened to report the victory to the queen. Notwithstanding his generous nature, he felt hurt at the glory his inferior in command, and early rival, had obtained. Yet it was impossible to withhold from Ealeigh the credit of having secured victory, by his timely interference with an absurd design, pro posed by the lord-high-admiral. He planned the ac tion, and skillfully directed its execution. This dis play of his ability and gallantry, restored him to public esteem. His courteous conduct towards his enemy, Essex, who had been the means of his con tinued expulsion from court, also elicited the ad miration of his associate officers, during the expedi tion. The frank and fearless Essex, however, too readily perceived the cunning motives of Ealeigh, to be cajoled into friendship. During their absence. Sir Eobert Cecil had been appointed secretary of state. He was the malignant enemy of Essex, and the friend of Ealeigh — a man, however, whose enmity was less dangerous than his friendship. Ambitious, intriguing, sarcastic, cold, and subtle, he never hesitated to sacrifice a friend to his own interest. He at length boldly crushed the noble Essex in his serpent coils ; — for Ealeigh, he re.'-^.rved a fatal charm, like that which attracts the 175 unwary bird, in narrowing circles, till it falls a help less victim before the cold, glistening eye of its en chanter. To effect a reconciliation between these two power ful rivals, and thus secure his OAvn restoration at court, was an apparently impossible scheme, yet one to which Ealeigh devoted himself on his return from Spain. Contrary to the expectations of the gossiping public, and even the parties themselves, he succeeded. This skillful stroke did for him Avhat his brilliant ex ploits at Cadiz had failed to accomplish. He was at once restored to Elizabeth's confidence ; was reinsta ted captain of her guard, and went boldly to the privy-chamber, as of old. His attention was now absorbed in a second expe dition to Spain, to thwart Philip's design of invading both England and Ireland, in revenge for the Cadiz triumph. A secondary plan occupied his leisure. This was the execution of a third voyage to Guiana, intrusted to Captain Berrie. The voyage occupied little more than six months, and produced nothing remarkable. The chief command of the Spanish expedition was conferred upon the Earl of Essex. Lord Thomas Howard was appointed vice-admiral, and Sir Walter Ealeigh rear-admiral. The fleet, consisting of one hundred and twenty sail, left Plymouth the eighteenth of August. The Azore Islands was its destination, as intelligence had been received, that the Spanish Ar mada was stationed there, to protect the rich Indian 176 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. fleet, daily expected. Upon arriving at the island of Flores, however, they discovered the rumor to be false, and, mortified at having been duped, immedi ately decided upon taking possession of the islands. A division of attack was made — Fayal being re served for Essex and Ealeigh. Essex accordingly set sail, and left orders for the rear-admiral to follow him. Ealeigh obeyed, but, not speedily coming in sight of his commander's squadron, steered with his -own fleet for Fayal, by the shortest course. Upon arriving there the next morning, he could nowhere perceive Essex. The enemy were busy fra-tifying the coast and town. Every hour gave them superior advantage. Ealeigh awaited the arrival of the leader as long as his pa tience could brook the delay, and then decided upon an immediate attack. With two hundred and sixty men, he effected a landing, amidst a storm of bullets ; clambered up the rocks, carried the fortifications, and put the Spaniards to flight. Two batteries, one com manding the road, the other the town, were to be re connoitred. The foreign troops, in his service, were unwilling to pass thus before the cannon's mouth. Impatient at their hesitation, he called for his casque and cuirass, and himself, with an officer and a few soldiers, rode up to the town, and made the necessary observations. Stones and cannon-shot greeted them effectively, for the accompanying officer was wound ed, two soldiers lost their heads, and, the admiral's clothes were repeatedly tom with the shot. sm WAETEB EALEIGH. 177 Upon ordering up his forces, the fort was taken at the first onset. The Spaniards abandoned it without a shot in its defence. The town was also deserted, and immediately occupied by the English ; thus, be fore night, Ealeigh found himself in possession of the whole island. The next morning, Essex anchored in the harbor, and, to his great surprise and anger, found his rival enjoying the honors he had in store for himself. With his usual impetuosity, he ordered the arrest of every officer engaged in the affair, and arraigned Ea leigh for violating the instructions, that none should land the troops without the general's presence. The admiral vindicated himself, and, with dignity and calmness, assured the jealous earl that the restric tions applied only to captains and inferior officers, while he was a principal commander. Essex was pacified, but his dependents, who had studiously rep resented Ealeigh's conduct as an insolent contempt of his superior command, were greatly chagrined at the failure of this occurrence, to create dissension be tween the newly-reconciled rivals. The remainder of the expedition was a succession of failures. Essex, better qualified for a statesman and soldier than the commander-in-chief of a naval armament, lost his opportunity to capture the Spanish fleet, and, instead, occupied himself with various in- signiflcant exploits. The anger of the queen was vented in severe reproaches upon Essex. Ealeigh was highly commended, but no honors were bestowed H* 12 178 DISCO -VEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. upon him, as upon Essex, soon after. He immedi ately retired to Sherbourne — a country-seat which he had embellished with the greatest care. He here spent the happiest hours of his life, in the society of his elegant and devoted wife, together with the dis tinguished literati of that reign, who frequented his attractive country-seat. His retirement was varied by occasional attendance at court. His influence was greater, and he was more distinguished by royal favor, at this time, than at any previous period. He figured conspicuously in the masques, tournaments, pageants, and martial games, which formed a large part of the entertainments of Elizabeth's stately court. Sir Walter vied with Essex and other courtiers in the magnificence of his dress. Jewels blazed upon his shoes, sword, and belt ; a fortune was expended in the dazzling display. Notwithstanding a slight lameness and deformity, Avhich he first suffered during his Guiana voyage, he outshone the accomplished Essex. His appearance in the tilt-yard, on one occasion of the queen's birth day, caused a renewal of their old hostility. Ea leigh's superior skill in the use of weapons, and his splendid attire and retinue, threw his rival in the shade. He carried off the victory, in presence of the assembled court, augmented in brilliancy by the royal presence, and the accompanying train of fair attendants. Essex burned with jealousy and vexa tion. Like a spoiled child, he fretted himself into an undeserved severity of punishment, while the crafty sm WALTEE EALEIGH. Ii9 Cecil and the deceptive Ealeigh provided the rods, which her majesty applied, before she discovered they were thickly set with thorns. At their instigation, the government of Ireland was given to Essex — an appointment which he had de manded for a friend. The stern refusal of his request occasioned that extraordinary and undignified scene, in which Essex lost all command of his fiery temper, and received a box on the ear, in token of the queen's exhausted patience. To rid herself of his insolence, and to afford him an honorable exile from her pres ence, Elizabeth obliged him, at the suggestion of his enemies, to accept the appointment he had eagerly claimed for another. He concealed his chagrin at this undesired honor, and received with haughty pride, the mocking congratulations of Ealeigh and Cecil. As they anticipated, his ruin quickly follow ed. Thus Ealeigh paved the way for his own fall. He was enough of a political gamester, to perceive that the removal of the formidable favorite left a new rivalry between himself and Cecil, and that they could not long stand together, under a mask of friend ship which circumstances had enforced. He relied upon his own ability to extricate himself, but, skilled as he was in duplicity, he was no match for his cun ning rival, who, Jesuit-like, purred about his victim, till his deep-laid and far-reaching schemes were per fected. Lulled into temporary security, by the helping hand Cecil lent to his promotion, Ealeigh enjoyed 180 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. the royal favor with greater distinction than ever. The govemment of Jersey was bestowed upon him ; he was commissioned with secret embassies, and at tended the queen upon her frequent and costly excur sions, from one palace to another. He also sat in Parliament, where his eloquent speeches, his liberal views, and his generous acquiescence in the repeal of monopolies, though against his own interest, did more for his lasting fame, than any of his previous exertions, and imparted to his reputation an honor and dignity, which had too often been found wanting in his earlier career. He, at this time, disposed of his estates in Ireland, which drew too heavily upon his purse. The im provement of those estates had not been rapid, owing to his absence. He founded a free school, however, in one of his townships. Ireland is also indebted to him for the introduction of the potato, from Virginia.* The first of that now most important product was planted at Youghal, a seaport at the mouth of the BlackAvater, which is still embellished by the house and gardens of Ealeigh. Evidence of his fondness for rural elegance, remains in the rare and perfumed shrubs that yet ornament the gardens. The fiower- * It is said that Sir Walter Raleigh was the first discoverer of the value of the potato as a food for man. One day he ordered a quan tity of dry weeds to be coUected and burnt Among them were some dried potatoes. After the bon-fire, these potatoes were picked up, thoroughly roasted. Sir Walter tasted, and pronounced them delicious. By this accident was discovered a species of food, whioh has saved millions of the human race from starvation. SIE WALTEE EALEIGH. 181 ing arbutus, and the fragrant myrtle are still conspic uous there, the latter elegant species having obtained the rare height of twenty feet. The death of Queen Elizabeth was an event which suddenly deprived Ealeigh of all the emoluments he had enjoyed. It was one for which he had made no provision. His enemies, on the contrary, had antici pated the stroke, and had taken care that it should fall heavily on him. James, the successor of Elizabeth, was incapable of appreciating the genius of Ealeigh. Vain, con ceited, superficial, and pedantic in his learning ; jeal ous and suspicious in temperament, and narrow, tim id, and inactive in policy, he inspired a contempt in Ealeigh, which that courtier made no attempt to con ceal. Sir Walter's fondness for enterprise and dis covery, and his love of national glory, were complete ly at variance with the notions of the monarch. Before his succession, James had been deeply preju diced against Ealeigh, as one of the actors in the Essex tragedy. Cecil, though far more censurable, contrived to establish a secret correspondence with King James, cunningly acquiesced in his sentiments, and insinuated himself so far in his good graces, and so completely gained over his favorites, that when that monarch occupied the English throne, he retain ed Cecil as secretary of state, to the utter surprise of political prophets. The secretary had been careful to inspfre James with a dislike for Ealeigh, and, ac cordingly, he soon had the satisfaction of seeing his 182 DISCOA^EEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. rival deprived of his post as captain of tbie guard, his lucrative wine-patent withdrawn, and his movements regarded with coldness and distrust. Ealeigh's eyes were suddenly opened to the treachery of his mock- friend, and from that moment they were in open hostility. ¦ Three months of the new sovereignty had scarcely passed, when Ealeigh was arrested for treason. Of the grounds of this procedure, he was entirely igno rant, till he found himself accused of traitorous nego tiations with Spain, and of a design of subverting the government, and placing Arabella Stuart upon the throne. The first charge was too inconsistent with his well-known hatred for Spain, to have much -weight. The third was so entirely unfounded, that even his enemies were too ashamed to prosecute it. The sec ond, however, managed by the artful Cecil, assumed a more serious aspect. Lord Cobham. the brother-in-law of Cecil, had be come involved in a charge of treason, with his brother, Mr. Brooks, and several popish priests. Being a friend of Ealeigh, and having often conversed with him, in discontented terms, respecting the govern ment, suspicion fell upon Sir Walter as being an ac complice in the conspiracy. Lord Cobham 's charac ter is described as " a compound of fear, weakness, and falsehood." He was completely the tool of Ce cil, and, as such, was instigated to accuse his friend of being an associate conspirator, in presence of the conncil. He had scarcely uttered the charge, when em WALTER EALEIGH. 183 he was overpowered with remorse, at his own villain ous conduct towards his friend, and retracted the whole accusation. The council would not accept his retraction. Why he should have uttered the mon strous falsehood, and thus virtually plead guilty him self, when the real culprits declared, at their execu tion, that he was not privy to their plans, is most un accountable, unless his conscious discontent, his weakness, and the carefully worded threats of the secretary, be considered. Sir Walter's trial was a series of cruel and unjust absurdities, sustained by able and skillful enemies. Sir Edward Coke exhausted his ingenuity in invent ing epithets sufficiently detestable to apply to him. He magnified and misrepresented the most trifling circumstances ; he prejudiced the minds of the jury ; and what Avas found wanting in evidence, he made up by abuse. " Viperous traitor," was an epithet that accompanied almost every interrogation. Coke, in fact, was so filled with the venom of anger and hatred, that, regardless of the fatal effects, he lost no opportunity to dart a viper's sting at the prisoner. Ealeigh endured his invectives with surprising calmness. He defended himself nobly and eloquent ly, and, says one who was present at the trial, " with that temper, wit, learning, courage, and judgment, that, save it went with the hazard of his life, it was the happiest day he ever spent." The last piece of evidence adduced in Ealeigh's favor, was a letter from Lord Cobham, written wbile con - iS4 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. fined in the Tower, and which most solemnly protested Ealeigh's innocence. It was allowed no weight, how ever, and Ealeigh's only hope of acquittal in being confronted with Cobham, was peremptorily refused. " If his presence could have injured Ealeigh, he would have been brought over from Constantinople," as the monarch owned. Prince Henry, James' eldest son — of most piOmising talent, and whose noble and upright mind perceived the tyranny of his father, the smooth-tongued hypoc risy of Cecil, and the baseness of Coke — strongly cen sured the proceedings, and endeavored to soften the rigor of the sentence which was pronounced upon Ealeigh. Yet it was not averted ; the details of his execution were pronounced with the most tormenting minuteness. The evident innocence of the condemned, his com posed and forbearing demeanor, in striking contrast with his judges; the eloquence, wit, and ability with which he had defended himself, operated powerfully upon the spectators, who crowded the court with in tense interest. Nearly all had come filled with ha tred towards the proclaimed traitor, rejoicing to see his proud head bowed at last. They " would have gone a thousand miles to see him hanged," yet, when they beheld him, when they listened to him, when they detected the extent of injustice he suffered, their overfiowing feelings were changed from " extremest hate to eitremest pity," and they Avould now have '• gone a thousand miles to save his life.'' SIE AVALTEE EALEIGH. ]85 He was conducted back to prison, to await the ex ecution of his sentence, which he looked for daily in a state of painful suspense, during a whole month. He made an appeal to the king for mercy, but it re ceived no attention. He then Avrote a touching fare well letter to his wife, in which is depicted a strong and tender affection, a heroic spirit, and an acknowl edgment of the providences of God, and the rich com fort of reliance upon the Almighty, altogether unex pected in one whose life had hitherto evinced little practical piety. His beautiful message of love speaks for itself : " You shall now receive, my dear wife, ray last Avords, in these my last lines. My love I send you, that you may keep it when I am dead ; and my counsel, that you may remember it when I am no more. I would not, by my will, present you with sorrows, dear Bess, — let them go into the grave with me, and be buried in the dust. And seeing that it is not the will of God that ever I shall see you more in this life, bear it patiently, and with a heart like thyself. " First, I send you all the thanks my heart can conceive, or my words can express for your many travails and care taken for me ; which, though they have not taken effect as you wished, yet my debt to you is not the less. But pay it I never shall in this world. Secondly, I beseech you for the love you bear me living, do not hide yourself many days after 186 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. my death ; but by your travail seek to help your mis erable fortunes, and the right of your poor child. Thy mournings cannot avail me, — I am but dust. . . . If you can live free from want, care for no more ; the rest is but vanity. Love God, and begin betimes to repose yourself on him ; and therein you shall find true and lasting riches, and endless com fort. For the rest, when you have travailed and wearied your thoughts over all sorts of worldly cogi tations, you shall but sit down by sorrow in the end. Teach your son, also, to love and fear God while he is yet young, that the fear of God may grow up with him, and then God will be a husband to you and a father to him. . . When I am gone, no doubt you will be sought by many, for the world thinks I was very rich. But take heed of the pretenses of men, and their affections. ... I speak not this, God knows, to dissuade from marriage ; for it will be best for you, both in respect of the world and of God. As for me, I am no more yours, nor you mine. Death has cut us asunder, and God hath divided me from the world, and you from me. Eemember your poor child for his father's sake, who chose and loved you in his happiest time. . . . The everlasting, pow erful, infinite, and omnipotent God, who is goodness itself, the true life and light, keep thee and thine, have mercy on me, and teach me to forgive my persecu tors and accusers, and send us to meet in his glorious kingdom. My dear wife, farewell ! Bless my poor boy ; pray foi me, and let my good God hold you sm WALTEE EALEIGH. 187 both in his arms. Written with the dying hand of some time thy husband, but now, alas ! overthroAvn. Yours that was, but noAV not my own, — " Walter Ealeigh." This manly and affecting letter was written Avhile he momentarily expected a summons to the scaffold. Three weeks had passed in a torturing state of sus pense, when he beheld, one morning, from the win dow of his prison, a most singular and fearful farce enacted. A tumultuous crowd was assembled about a newly erected scaffold. The executioner, the offi cers of the law, the priest, and the friends of the prisoners, whose trial and condemnation had followed that of Ealeigh, occupied the stage. He watched the approach of the first sufferer, beheld his final devo tions, and, with a sickened feeling, at the remem- brance.of a like fate for himself, saw him lay his head upon the block, and the ponderous axe ready to de scend. Tet it did not fall. The prisoner arose and stood like a statue, while an officer addressed him. He was then led away amidst shouts and acclama tions that rolled noisily to the distant cell of Ea leigh, who, dumb with wonder, gazed upon the strange pantomime, till the three convicted noblemen, Cobham, Giey and Markham, were successively brought to the verge of eternity, were made to suffer the agony of an expected and dreaded death, and then thrust back to their gloomy, solitary cells. Ealeigh divined its meaning, felt a new and stirring 188 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. hope that his own innocence should yet be acknow lodged, and he should again be united to those for whose sake he coveted life. But he soon learned that he was to be consigned to a living death. The mercy of the king granted life, but condemned him to im prisonment in the Tower, for such a term of years as should suit the royal pleasure. Lady Ealeigh had not looked on inactively during her husband's trial. She had put forth every possi ble exertion to save him, and only yielded herself to inconsolable grief when all hope was extinguished. At Sherbourne, the home that was crowded with as sociations of the early years of their marriage, and of later days, of perfect harmony and love. Lady Ea leigh had awaited the tidings she believed inevitable. When, at last, a messenger arrived, full of the ex citement that prevailed wherever the news had sped, her sharp and tearless agony yielded to grateful tears. The damp, gloomy cell, the unvaried and weary life to be passed within its narrow confines, the bolts, locks, bars, and impregnable walls, reminding one every moment of a hard fate, had scarcely a place in her thoughts. It was enough for her to know he lived. She had now but one wish, and that was to share, Avith her only son, the imprisonment of Sir Walter ; to cheer, console, and lighten, the tedious- ness of his unoccupied life. With no anxiety but the fear of a refusal, she has tened to court, and seeking the presence of the mou^ arch, threw herself at his feet, and entreated him to sm WALTEE EALEIGH. 189 grant the only happiness that remained for her. James acquiesced, probably with no little wonder at the he roic devotion which his selfish nature found difficult to comprehend. Unlike most of the high-born la dies, who enjoyed the elevated position which had been hers. Lady Ealeigh seldom mingled in the dis sipated pleasures of court life. She had presided at Sherbourne Avith dignity and grace, and found her greatest happiness at her own fireside — a choice which accounts for the faithfulness, and strength of attachment that existed between Sir Walter and his devoted wife ; for a harmonious and deep affection can no more outlive a constant participation in the heartless gayeties of fashionable life, than a rare and rich flower can long exist in the midst of an over growth of poisonous weeds. - It was no sacrifice for Lady Ealeigh to leave the outer world, so long as it obtained for her the joy of alleviating her husband's trials. With a cheerful countenance, that still retained much of the beauty of her youth, she brought sunshine into the cold dun geon. Her woman's refinement and ingenuity de vised small means of comfort, that brought a home- look even to the doleful cells of the Tower. Consoled by the presence of his wife and young son, Ealeigh diverted his thoughts from his own misfortunes by pursuing the studies, which, from his youth, had oc cupied his leisure. His extensive travels and close observation, had stored up a large fund for his pres 190 DISCOVEEERS ANO PIONEERS OF AMERICA. ent use, and he now reaped the benefit of the vigo rous cultivation of his intellect He accomplished a work which would have intimidated the most learned, in the midst of libraries and accessible manuscripts. "With few materials, aside from his own valuable ex perience, and thorough reading, he wrote a History of the World, — a ponderous work, spoken of by Tytler as an " extraordinary monument of human labor and genius, which, in the vastness of its subject, its re search and learning, the wisdom of its political refiec- tions, and the beauties of its style, has not been equaled by any writer of this, or perhaps of any other country." Aside from this, Ealeigh frequently wrote letters, essays and discourses, upon the arts, science or poli tics, in which, though a state prisoner, his judgment and wisdom Avas consulted. Prince Henry enter tained a strong sympathy and admiration for the un fortunate nobleman. He often visited him, corres ponded with him, and courted his instructions in the civil, military, and naval affairs that occupied his practical as-well as accomplished mind. He is said to have made the observation, that " none but his father Avould have kept such a bird in a cage." Harlot, the distinguished mathematician and natu ralist, Avhora Ealeigh had once sent to ascertain the extent and productions of Virginia, was often admit ted to his presence. He, together with Hughes and Warner, two accomplished scholars, had frequently sm WALTEE EALEIGH. 191 assisted him in making chemical experiments, aud astronomical calculations. Their devotion to their captive patron, obtained for them the soubriquet of his Three Magi. They must have furnished the val uable laboratory which Ealeigh established in the small garden of the Tower. He converted an old house to the purpose, and, as was said by Sir William Wade, the Lieutenant of the Tower, he there " spent all the day in distillations." There were several prisoners of rank and genius confined in the Tower at this time, who were occa sionally permitted each other's society. The Earl of Northumberland established a literary society in his apartments, and the companionship of Piercy, "a mathematician, a chemist, an astrologer, and a hu morist," and that of Hoskins, the poet, served to give wings to the tedious hours of imprisonment. Ealeigh himself, courted the muses. His quaint, but beauti ful strains evince a depth of piety, Avhich he proba bly never could have experienced had his prosperity continued. Austere judges may doubt his sincerity, but his uncomplaining forgiveness towards his most bitter enemies, his Christian calmness, so unlike his former impetuosity, and the fervor and submissive- ness to God's will, expressed in his writings, seem ut terly incompatible with what we should look for in a cold philosopher, or a hypocrite. Misanthropy, im patience, and bitterness of spirit, might, more natu rally, result from the twelve years' imprisonment of a 192 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. formal moralist, than the heavenly aspirations breathed in such hymns as the following : — " Rise, O my soul, with thy desires to Heaven, And with divinest contemplation use Thy time, where time's eternity is given, And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse ; But down in darkness let them lie ; So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die. " To thee, 0 Jesu 1 I direct my eyes. To thee my hands, to thee my humble kneea^ To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice, To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only seea : To thee myself, myself and all I give, To thee I die, to thee I only live I " Seven years of imprisonment had dragged out their weary length, when a new and unexpected blow struck deeply at the happiness which, the isolated family promised themselves, was yet in store for them. As if it was not enough to cage the eagle, unsatiated enemies began to pluck the choicest feath ers from his wings to plume their own greatness. Sherbourne, the gift of Elizabeth, the home he prized above all the palaces of England, where he had en joyed so many years of unalloyed domestic happi ness, and which he had embellished with studied care and taste, was a prize that did not escape the cove tous eye of James' new favorite, the notorious and unprincipled Eobert Carr, Earl of Somerset Ealeigh had taken especial care to settle this favorite estate upon his eldest son. The scrutiny of malignant ene- sm WALTEE EALEIGH. 193 mies, however, discovered the omission of a few triv ial words in the deed of conveyance, and, taking ad vantage of this legal flaw, solicited the estate from the king. Nothing was denied to Carr, and James had not yet forgiven Ealeigh. The news of the pro bable forfeiture of Sherbourne, was conveyed to Sir Walter by some sympathizing friend. What to do, to avert the calamity, was a question of painful interest to the little family, to whom the addition of a second son rendered the preservation of the remaining por tion of his spoiled fortune all the more necessary. Above all, to lose the dearest home they possessed, was a misfortune that weighed more heavily upon their depressed spirits, than any other his active ene mies could have devised. Prince Henry interceded for the family, in whom he had become most deeply interested. But the in fluence of the rapacious Carr, over the weak mon arch, outweighed that of his own high-minded son. Grieved at her husband's dejection, when this hope failed. Lady Ealeigh proposed to plead with the king, herself This seemed a happy thought, for, aside from the justness of her petition, who could resist the eloquent appeal of her wan, sorrowful face, paled to marble whiteness, by her long, voluntary imprison ment ? Encouraged by Prince Henry, and accom panied by her two youthful sons, she repaired to the palace, and was admitted to the presence of her sover eign. Seven years had come and gone, since she last knelt at the feet of James. Her name, and her beau- I 13 194 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AAIEEICA. tiful devotion had long ago been forgotten by the gay courtiers who surrounded him. New favorites Avno had heard her history, as a romance of the past, were startled at her sudden apparition in their very midst Curious eyes marked the traces of beauty, still evi dent in her face, though full of long-endured sorrow. The presence of her children was a touching appeal. White as statues, and bewildered at the strange scene of costly decorations, of imposing royalty and cheer ful faces, — so widely different from the cold, dark walls, and the pale, solemn faces, they were used to behold, — they clung, frightened and trembling, to their plead ing mother. The heart of any, but that of the selfish James, Avould have yielded to the eloquent entreaties, and the faithful efforts of this noble Avife and moth er, who asked a simple act of justice. But, instead of granting the tearful request, he coldly shook his head, and replied impatiently, — " I maun have the land — I maun have it for Carr." Almost overcome with powerful emotions, and sick at heart. Lady Ealeigh slowly turned away from the palace and court, gay with the revelry of Queen Anne's suite. The hunting parties, the masquerades and operatic plays, in which the queen did not dis dain to act a part, seemed more heartless and trivial than ever, in contrast Avith her own dark life, her sombre home, and the beggarly pittance of sympathy those in power bestowed upon her injured husband. The ponderous gates and doors of the Tower closed sm WALTER EALEIGH. 195 upon her. The slow weight of her step, as she re turned to Sir Walter, and that eloquent silence which " -Whispers the o'er-fraught heart," told him, plainer than words, of disappointment. He' had need of fortitude to endure his reverses, for three other valued estates soon followed Sherbourne. His hopes of an eventual release from the Tower, were also, soon after, cut off by the death of his only re maining, influential friend, Prince Henry. He deep ly felt the loss. In time, however, events assumed a shape more fa vorable to his release. Death and reverses had been busy with his enemies, as Avell as Avith his friends. Cobham had, long before, suffered poverty and obscu rity, and flnally died in a poor hovel, attended only by his former laundress. Cecil's life of duplicity had been cut off by a painful disease. His successor in office. Sir Ealph Winwood, was a plain, honest, intel ligent man, and from him Ealeigh reasonably hoped much. Somerset, the villianous favorite, had stained his hands in blood, and, with his guilty countess, was disgraced. His place was filled by Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, who interested himself in the fate of the long imprisoned hero. Queen Anne was, also, favorably disposed towards Ealeigh, probably from the remembered friendship of the deceased Prince. Avhose loss she did not cease to lament. Ealeigh addressed a petition to the queen, urging her interposition in his behalf, and proposed, in ease 196 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. of liberation, to renew his attempts tj colonize and explore Guiana — a scheme which he still enthusias tically cherished. Winwood, the secretary of state, recommended the proposition to the king. Success attended the efforts of these new and powerful friends, and, early in March, 1615, after twelve years of enforced solitude, he emerged with his wife and sons, from the doleful confines of the Tower, to the breathing, hurrying world. Vigor, energy and activity, again animated him. Though in his sixty-fifth year, he began preparations for the proposed voyage, with as much enthusiasm and ambition as if he was but a youth, tossing, for the first time, his hook and line into the sea of life. To obtain funds for the undertaking, Lady Ealeigh disposed of her estate of Micham. A sum of money was, also, given him by the king, as " a competent satisfaction " for the loss of Sherbourne, though it was but little more than the yearly income he had derived from that estate. Many merchants and pri vate adventurers took a share in the expedition. The fleet sailed on the 28th of March, 1617. It is in teresting to know that, flrst among the orders given to the several commanders of the fleet, were the fol lowing : " First, because no action or enterfrise can prosper (be it by sea or land) without the favor and assistance of Almighty God, the Lord and strength of hosts and armies, you shall not fail to cause divine service to be read in your ship, morning and evening . . . praising God every night, with singing of sm WALTEE EALEIGH. 197 a psalm at the setting of the watch. Secondly, you shall take especial care that God be not blasph-emed in your ship, ... for if it be threatened in the Scriptures, that ' the curse shall not depart from the house of the swearer,' much less from the ship of the swearer." Ealeigh was kindly and gladly welcomed by the Indians to the New World. His sanguine hopes of success were dampened, soon after his arrival, upon learning that the Spaniards had been apprised of his coming. Influenced by the jealousy with which Spain regarded the movement, they watched his pro gress with hatred and suspicion. Ealeigh, being confined to his berth by illness, dispatched Captain Keymis, Avith five ships, to proceed up the Orinoco, to the gold mine, which he was confident existed there, and retained the other vessels for defence against a Spanish fleet, sent to reconnoitre his move ments. His arrangements befrayed an expectation of a col lision with the Spaniards, notwithstanding the strict instructions given by his sovereign, to preserve the treaty which had been lately consummated between England and Spain. The Spaniards, however, offered the flrst provoca tion, and struck the first blow. Keymis was attacked and repulsed at Santa Thome, in the vicinity of the mine. Young Walter Ealeigh, the eldest son of the earl, fell in the contest. This bereavement, added to tho violation of the treaty, and the failure of Keymis 198 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA to prove, by obtaining gold, that the enterprise was neither illusory nor hostile to the Spaniards, occa sioned Ealeigh the most poignant grief In a letter to his afflicted wife, he said — "I never knew what sorrow meant till now." Keymis was so troubled at the apparent culpability of his conduct, and the fatal consequences to Ealeigh, that he retired to his cabin, and put an end to his existence. Heart-broken and disappointed. Sir Walter sailed for England. He determined to cast himself upon the mercy and justice of the king, whom he hoped to convince of his OAvn innocency, and accordingly resisted the urgent entreaties of his friends, to seek refuge on the continent. He remembered, too, his pledge of honor to return to England, demanded from him, because his full pardon for alleged treason had never been granted. He was immediately arrested on his arrival in England, at the instigation of the Spanish ambassador — a proud, cruel, Castilian count, of a dark and powerful character. When an exag gerated report of the action in Guiana, reached the malicious count, he demanded an interview with the king, and, upon being admitted, frantically cried out, with Jesuitical effect, " Pirates ! pirates ! pirates ! " and without another word, strode angrily from the apartment. James dreaded nothing more than a rupture with Spain. His fears thus worked upon, and actuated by his dislike to Ealeigh, he disregarded the intercession of the queen and others, who plead for him ; and SIE WALTEE EALEIGH. 199 promised King Philip that this formidable foe to Spain should die. Sir Lewis Stuckely, a kinsman of Sir Walter's, Avas commissioned with the arrest, and, by the promise of a large reward, was instigated to deceive and induce his unsuspecting prisoner to es cape, and then basely betray him. For a Aveek, Ea leigh Avas allowed the society of his deeply afflicted wife. During that time, he feigned sickness, to pre vent his immediate committal to the Tower, and to gain time to write an appeal and vindication to the king. Lady Ealeigh was not permitted to accompany him in his last imjirisonment He Avas deprived of the society and comforts formerly granted him ; was placed in a " high and safe apartment, and confined to the keeping and espionage of Sir Thomas Wilson. His own servant was dismissed, and the place sup plied by a man of Wilson's selection, who assisted the keeper in his mean surveillance. Either one or the other of these persons constantly remained in Ealeigh's presence. Wilson cunningly questioned him, and sought every means to elicit some confes sions that would prove him guilty. Their conversa tions were carefully noted down, and transmitted to the monarch, who was anxious to find some plausible pretext for getting rid of his troublesome subject Lady Ealeigh was encouraged to correspond with her husband ; but every letter, and every reply, was in tercepted by the keeper's servant, and conveyed to 200 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. the king, for perusal, before being delivered to its proper recipient. These means failed to convict Ealeigh of wrong. The arrival of instructions from Spain, to have him executed without delay, placed James in an uneasy dilemma. Ealeigh's death had been promised to Philip, yet it could not be accomplished without some evidence of guilt. He consulted his council, and fi nally appointed commissioners to interrogate Ealeigh, and to report upon the best mode of proceeding against him. They decided that he could not be called to account for crimes committed after his sen tence for treason ; it was necessary, therefore, to have recourse to the death-warrant issued fifteen years be fore, although it had been virtually annulled by his subsequent appointment as general-in-chief of the Guiana fleet. This course had scarcely been decided upon, after a tedious discussion by the perplexed coun cil, when a new difficulty arose. " They declared that neither a writ of privy-seal, nor even a warrant under the great seal, to the judges of the king's bench, could entitle them, after so long an interval, to pronounce sentence of execution against any pris oner, Avithout giving him an opportunity of pleading in person against it. James was not willing to lose his victim by such an opportunity of acquittal, for he had once acknowl edged the injustice of Ealeigh's trial, by saying he would not risk his head with a Winchester jury, such sm WALTER EALEIGH. 201 as had found Sir Walter guilty. To avoid these dif ficulties, it was at last decided to arraign him by a writ of haheas corpus. The king acquiesced and sign ed a warrant for execution. Four days afterwards, the condemned man, sick, weak, and with the chill of an ague fit upon him, was brought before the assembled court, to answer the demand "why execution should not pass against him." He would not plead for a life which he fully understood was to be sacrificed, whether by " foul or fair " means. He simply attempted a vindication of his conduct ; but in this, he was cut short by the chief-justice. Ealeigh heard his final sentence pronounced with calmness and resignation. He had looked for it daily ; old age and disease had overtaken and bound him hand and foot ; calumny and malice had followed him through life ; his ambition had been foiled ; he had painfully experienced the hoUowness of life with out God, even in his palmiest days. When he heard his hours numbered, therefore, he felt no regret, ex cept for the sake of his cherished wife and son. His only request was, that he might " not be cut off' sud denly," as he desired to settle his worldly aff'airs, to write a clear statement of the charges against him, and their refutation, and to make his final prepara tion for a near approaching eternity. He was then conducted to the Tower, and, after reaching his prison chamber, was told that his execution was appointed for the following day. I* 202 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. Pained by this brutal haste, he caused Lady Ea leigh to be immediately summoned. Though both were prepared for the final decision of his fate, by years of trial and dread anticipation, yet their last parting Avas rendered far more agonizing by those same burdened years, than if life had gone glee fully with them. Sorrow and misfortune were the shuttles which sped with the silver threads of sympa thy and love, from heart to heart, and wove them into one. Like the talisman of the Genii, too, they enabled their possessors to discover true friends from false. Few enough remained to Ealeigh. This was the more painful, because he was about to leave his wife and son with but the wreck of his fallen fortunes. He would not trust himself to speak of, or to see the young Carew, whose birth-place had been a prison. His strength and his composure were too far ex hausted already, and he had but few hours remaining. Lady Ealeigh remained till midnight, when Sir Wal ter affectionately entreated her to leave him. She complied ; but, at parting, burst into tears, as she in formed him she had obtained the privilege of claim ing his body. " It is well, Bess," said he, cheerfully, " that thou mayst dispose of that dead thou hadst not always the disposing of when alive." A last, mourn ful embrace, and Lady Ealeigh had gone, to await, in agony and tears, the tragedy of the approaching day. At nine o'clock, on a cold, October morning. Ea- leigh was led to the Old Palace yard, where the scaf- sm WALTER EALEIGH. 203 fold was erected. He was richly attired in a black satin doublet and waistcoat, and over them was thrown a black, wrought-velvet robe — a style of dress which rendered his striking and noble appear ance still more conspicuous, as he passed through the pressing crowd, gathered with eager curiosity to be hold the long heard-of hero, and not without sympa thy for his unjust fate. Supported on either hand by the sheriffs and the Dean of Westminster, he as cended the scaffold, and, after the hum of the multi tude was hushed, addressed them in a voice, weak at first, but to which excitement gradually gave strength. Though reduced by sickness, he spoke eloquently, and with grace and animation ; refuting the charges against him, but uttering no word of animadversion, in regard to those who had plotted his downfall, and giving vent only to a spirit of touching forgiveness, towards those Avho, Judas-like, had kissed him and then betrayed him. He had no fear of death ; it was not the courage of hardened Avickedness, for he him self said to those who wondered at his tranquillity, that " no man who knew God and feared him, could die with cheerfulness and courage, unless he "was as sured of his love and favor." He acknowledged nimself to be " a man full of all vanity, and one who nad lived a sinful life ; " for, said he, " I have been a soldier, a sailor, and a courtier — all of them cour ses of vice ; but I trust God will not only cast away my sins from me, but will receive me into everlast' ing life." 204 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. His address finished, he cheerfully and calmly bade his friends farewell, and prepared to lay his head upon the block. A moment sufficed to convert the the brilliant, gifted Ealeigh, into a lifeless, bleeding corpse. His severed head was wrapped in his velvet robe, and sent, in a mourning coach, to Lady Ea leigh ; a dreadful gift, and the only one the unrelent ing monarch ever condescended to bestow upon this hopeless widow. She caused it to be embalmed, and preserved it in a case during her life. She survived Sir Walter twenty-nine years — faithful to her early and devotional love to the last. Carew Ealeigh, their only remaining son, kept his father's head, with religious care, as long as he lived, and it was finally buried with him, at his seat of West Horsely, in Surrey. The contemplation of this relic, must have recalled, with fearful distinctness, the shadow upon his early life, the sad face of his mother, the voice, the words, and the occupations of his imprisoned father. Thus continually reminded of his own misfortunes, and his father's clouded name, a deep bitterness and melancholy must have been fostered in his soul, which was in no way lightened of its burden by his unhappy reception at court. " He looks like his father's ghost," said James, turning away, with fear and remorse, when young Ealeigh was presented. He was obliged to leave England till after that monarch's death. The most unkind act of all, however, — and that which most deeply wounded him — was the refusal of the successor of James, to sm WALTER EALEIGH. 205 grant his restoration in blood, except on condition of renouncing all title to his father's property. All hope of recovering Sherbourne was therefore lost, and he was constrained to see this priceless estate, with its treasured associations, pass into the hands of stran gers. The title of Sir Walter Ealeigh was restored in Carew's son — a title which gathers more honor, as the prejudices of the historians of that period are corrected by the researches of unbiassed seekers after truth and justice. V. HENRY HUDSON. During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the attention of commercial Europe was often directed towards the Arctic seas, as affording a shorter route than the one by which traffic with the East was then carried on. In 1499, Vasco de Gama, a distinguished Portuguese navigator, succeeded in doubling the Gape of Good Hope, and opened a new path to the Indies. But it was still a tedious and perilous one, and, being nearly monopolized by Portugal, offered little advan tage to the English or Dutch. They wished to obtain a more important and independent footing in the rich Asiatic islands, and, accordingly, when a western route failed, they directed the prows of their most celebrated navigators to the ice-locked regions of the North, confident that a passage could be forced across the North Pole, and easy access gained to the desired countries. Many fleets were successively dispatched, with this object in view, but they returned disap pointed, if they ever returned at all. The first efficient proposers of the project, were sev eral spirited, enterprising English merchants, who formed a "London Company," in 1607, to support HENRY HUDSON. 207 the design. The dangers attending such an enter prise, required a commander of skill and fortitude. That they should have selected Henry Hudson, is a sufficient guarantee af his experience as a navigator, though that experience had never been recorded. Nothing whatever is known of his parentage, or of the incidents of his boyhood. He nowhere appears as a fledgeling; history throws him out, a man of full stature, engaged in a bold and hazardous enterprise. In manhood, he was an intimate associate of Captain John Smith, of Virginian notoriety — a circumstance which enlightens us somewhat, as to the early bent of his character. Unlike the splendid fleets that, for two hundred years, had spread sail from the ports of Europe, the one which Henry Hudson commanded, consisted of but one strongly built vessel, Avith a crew of eleven men. Among them was his own young son, from which it is inferred that he was married, though his wife was probably not living, or he would scarcely have exposed such a youth to the severities of the in tended voyage. On the ninth of April, Hudson, with his crew, re paired to the church of Saint Ethelburge, in Bishops- gate-street, to receive the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, preparatory to the voyage. This long dis continued custom of mariners commending them selves to God, before venturing upon the d^ep, was a very beautiful one, when reverentially observed ; but it was, doubtless, too often desecrated by reckless and 208 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. profane men, such as composed Hudson's crew, who neither felt the solemnity of the occasion, nor the ob ligations incurred. They sailed the first of May, 1607, and in twenty-six days arrived off the Shetland Isles. During the fol lowing week, several* whales Avere observed near the vessel — a discovery which opened to England the profitable whale-fishery of the North. By the 13th of June, the adventurers found themselves near the coast of Greenland, benumbed with the extreme cold, and their ships coated with ice. A heavy fog, which almost continually veils those dismal regions, tantal ized their sight, affording but a faint glimpse of the ice-bound coast. After two days of difficult cruising, they saw the thick mist roll back from the sea, and leave to their view the snow-capped hills and moun tains of Greenland, stretching away nine leagues in the distance. Instead of the white crystals they ex pected to see sparkling from every sun-lit point, they were surprised to behold, here and there, hills envel oped in a mantle of dull red, and portions of the shore crimsoned, instead of tinted with the blue and "grey of shaded snow or ice. It is said that even the Alps sometimes wear this " red snow " — an appear ance attributed by some to the spreading luxuriance of a plant known as the Protocooous JVvoalis ; by others it is described as a net-work of fungi, or crim- son dust.* As a late explorer says of the " crimson cliffs of Beverly," one might imagine it " the work of a Titan, with his dredging-box of cayenne or HENRY HUDSOa-. 209 brick-dust." It has occasionally been found to ex tend to a depth of ten or twelve feet. The innumerable gulfs, the fissured rocks along the coast, " Icy Peak," with its immense vault and lofty crystal spires, reflecting a brilliancy perceived at a distance of ten leagues, and the long chain of in land mountains, beyond which even the hardy native has never yet passed, offered no temptation to the already half-frozen explorers, who beheld in this country of rocks — this " image of chaos and winter" — only the portal of the vast region they had under taken to penetrate. Hudson hoped that Greenland would prove to be an island, and, expecting soon to reach its extremity, sailed northeasterly. The head-land, first discovered, he called "Young's Cape," and a high mountain, "like a round castle," seen in the distance, he called, in true primitive style, "Mount of God's Mercy." He soon lost sight of land, owing to the thick fogs, occasioned by melting ice. The Greenlander, on the main land, is often blessed vrith a clear, pure air, du ring summer ; but the surrounding sea is covered with so dense a fog, that it is difficult to see from one end of a ship to the other — a circumstance which renders navigation extremely dangerous. Beside this difficulty, Hudson had to contend with sudden squalls, contrary winds, driving rains and sleet, and floating icebergs. Finding it impossible to continue a north easterly course to advantage, he steered east, in quest of Spitzbergen, and descried land between those 210 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. islands and the coast of Greenland, which he named the land of " Hold with Hope." Soon after, he came in sight of the mountains of Spitzbergen, which, crowned with perpetual snow, and flanked with glaciers, reflect, to a great distance, a light equal to that of the full moon. The blocks of red granite of which they are supposed to be com posed, shine like brilliant fires in the midst of flashing diamonds and sapphires of ice, as if the exiled Scan dinavian gods had taken refuge there, and kindled beacon-flres upon the craggy cliffs. These mountains are described by Malte-Brun, as of enormous eleva tion, " shooting abruptly from the bosom of the sea, to such a height, that the bays, vessels, whales, every thing, in short, appears, in their vicinity, extremely minute." Flowers are also said to spring up and blos som upon these desolate islands, during the short, nightless summer. A chaplet of poppy flowers was once gathered there, but, veined as they were with delicate frost-work, and nurtured, as they had been, from their birth, by the north wind, they must have melted away and vanished in the sheltering hand of the gatherer, as suddenly as a snow-Avreath in the sun or as Hawthorne's snow-child, when housed by its pitying play-fellows. Hudson, like all who had preceded, or who fol lowed him, was struck with the solemn and mysteri ous aspect of those gloomy regions, often vailed, as they were, in deceptive mists. He lingered along the coast of Spitzbergen for nearly a fortnight, some- 14 HENRY HUDSON. 211 times landing, in quest of morses and seals, or to attack the formidable polar bear, which so singularly and fearlessly enthrones itself upon the floating islets, or bravely resists the hunter, among the ragged rocks on the main-land. At last, catching a favorable wind, Hudson again directed his prow to the north, pressing his way, amidst frequent dangers, towards the dreary waste which stretched beyond Spitzbergen. The sea was, at times, green, blue, or black ; at one moment it exhibited an open surface, the next, was covered Avith immense blocks of ice, which appeared as unex pectedly as if created by the power of a mischievous Thor. On one occasion, when the ship stood idly waiting a breeze, upon the smooth, open sea, a sudden, rush ing sound alarmed the sailoi-s, and, while conjectur ing its nature, they beheld an army of icebergs advancing from the distance, over a rolling sea. Expecting to be crushed between the immense blocks riding flercely and swiftly towards them, they attempted to lower the boat as the only means of escape from the still becalmed ship, but the waves grew rapidly boisterous, and they were left with the alternative of being swamped in the open boat, or of braving an unwelcome death in the ship. Their stout hearts quaked with fear ; but, while hopelessly watch ing the closer approach of the dreaded icebergs, an unexpected gale sprang up from the north-west, filled fhe sails, and bore the ship beyond the reach of the sweeping array, so quickly summoned from the re- 212 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. cesses of northern bays. "God give us thankful hearts for so great deliverance," is Hudson's expres sion, in his journal of the occurrence. This event, to gether with serious detention by fogs, inadequate provisions for a longer voyage, and the close of the short Arctic summer, decided Hudson to attempt no farther progress. Accordingly, he steered for England, and arrived in the Thames after an absence of four months and a half. The object for which he had been sent was yet far from being accomplished ; but his voyage had not been fruitless. It had opened to England the new and profitable commerce of the whale fisheries, and had carried discovery farther north than any mariner had hitherto dared to go ; Hudson had also acquired by it an experience which would greatly aid him in prosecuting a second voyage more vigorously. These considerations induced the London company to em ploy him the following year. More complete preparations to meet the rigors of a polar climate, were made early in the spring of 1608. The ship, with a crew of fifteen men, inclu ding Hudson's son again, was in readiness more promptly than in the preceding season. Intending to find a passage in the north-east instead of the north- Avest, Hudson sailed from London the 22d of April. Heavy fogs prevented his rapid progress, so that he did not reach the coast of Norway till the 24th of May. After this, a few days of clear, cold weather enabled him to press at good speed to the north-east HENEY HUDSON. 213 By the 29th, they had reached so high a latitude that " the sun was on meridian above the horizon five de grees," enabling Hudson to make observations at mid night. Continuing his desired course as nearly as possible, despite the storms that now assailed them, the ship was soon ploughing its way through the icy sea, avoiding the larger masses of ice, and loosening the smaller fragments, till five leagues of the frozen field had been measured. The thickness and firmness of the ice through Avhich a path was now to be forced, alarmed Hudson, lest he had ventured too far, and would be held in an internfinable winter, to suffer and to perish, beyond the hailing voice of the most daring navigators who might follow him. He re traced, as hastily as possible, the course by which he had entered these forbidding regions, having experi enced no damage except, as he says, " a few rubs of the ship against the ice." He now continued his voyage directly east, some times attempting to tum his prow to a higher latitude, but always driven back by the ice. Finding himself in the vicinity of Nova Zembla, he resolved to abandon his hitherto fruitless efforts, and seek a passage by the straits of " the Vaygatz, and decided to pass by the mouth of the Eiver Ob, and to double, in that way, the North Cape of Tartaria." These straits are be tween the southern extremity of Nova Zembla and the northen coast of Eussia. While seeking the island, two of the sailors asserted that they distinctly saw a mermaid floating about the ship, one morning, 214 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. and described her as very fair, with long h. ack hair fiowing from her perfectly formed head. A sea sud denly overturned her while they were watching her, and they beheld her glide away into the waves, and down to the " purple twilight " of a lower sea. The imagined sight was enough to bring out the " sailor's reel " during the remainder of the voyage. When within two miles of Nova Zeiubla, Hudson sent several of the crew ashore to survey the island, or rather the two islands which form it. " Each of them is divided from north to south by a prolonga tion of the Uralian mountains, but they consist chiefiy of a marshy, moss-clad plain." The mariners found several streams rolling towards the sea, but they were mostly occasioned by melting snoAv. Without at tempting to venture far upon the marshes, they con tented themselves with gathering flowers and moss es, and obtaining a piece from a cross they found erected near the shore, and then returned to the ship. Afterwards, while pursuing a herd of morses, swim ming near the ship, Hudson found himself at the mouth of a broad river or sound, and, thinking he might pass through it to the eastern side of Nova Zembla, he abandoned his intention of going by the Vaygatz Straits. Several of his men, who Avere sent to explore it for some distance, returned with the fa vorable report that the river Avas two or three leagues broad, Avith a strong outward current Encourao-ed by this, Hudson immediately steered up the river, — proceeding nine leagues with his ship. The boat was HENRY HUDSON. 215 then rigged with a sail, and manned by several of the crew, to explore the river, till it was found to bend to the eastward. They returned the next day, with the unwelcome news that they had sounded the river at seven leagues, and found but four feet of water. Hudson was severely disappointed at this result, for the lateness of the season now prevented his pas sage by the Vaygatz, and he disliked to return from so unprofitable a voyage. Hoping, at least, to defray the expenses incurred, by obtaining morses, he di verged from a direct homeward route ; but in this, also, he was unsuccessful, and, unwilling to "lay more charge upon the action than necessity should compel," he honorably abandoned further search and returned to England, after an absence of little more than four months. The company by whom he was employed, were dis appointed at his failure, and refused to bear the ex- - pense of a third voyage, at present. Hudson had become too deeply interested in the project to aban don it thus, and, unwilling to wait the pleasure of the London Company, he went immediately to Hol land, to offer his services to the Dutch East India Company. NotAvithstanding the discouraging voice of one of their number, who had himself ventured largely in Arctic voyages, they readily accepted Hud son's proposal, for his fame had often reached them; indeed, he was well known in Holland as " the bold Englishman, the expert pilot, and the famous naviga tor," A small ship or yacht, named the Half Moon, 216 DISCOVEEEES .AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. was soon equipped and provided with a crew of six teen or twenty English and Dutchmen, among whom was Eobert Juet, who had accompanied him in his former voyage, and who was ultimately to bear so despicable a part in the closing tragedy of Hudson's life. By the 25th of March, the Half Moon sailed from Amsterdam, and, by the 27th, had lost sight of the towers, cupolas and spires of Amsterdam, with the vast, flat meadow that surrounds it, and had safely navigated the perilous Zuyderzee, and passed the Texel. In another month, Hudson had sailed beyond Norway, doubled the North Gape, and was once more struggling with head winds, ice, and fogs, in vain at tempts to reach India by the Vaygatz. Determined not to lose the season in fruitless plans, he immedi ately determined to abandon the north-eastern route, and resume his former efforts in the west. Of several plans, he proposed two to the choice of his crew — either to find a north-western passage by Davis' Straits, or to sail south, in quest of a strait which was laid down upon a map, given him by his old friend. Captain John Smith, as being near Virginia, and by which he might reach the Pacific. Most of the sail ors had been accustomed to voyaging in warm cli mates, and, dreading the horrors of frozen regions, chose the southern route. After touching at the Faroe Islands, Hudson steered fbr Newfoundland. A severe gale, and a prolonged storm of three weeks, seriously disabled the ship for HENEY HUDSON. 217 a time, and discouraged the voyagers ; but the return of fair weather permitted them to make repairs, and restored their failing spirits. When arrived off the coast of Newfoundland, they discovered a large fleet of Frenchmen, engaged in fishing, and, finding them selves becalmed, took the boat and joined in the oc cupation. They were successful enough to secure one hundred and thirty codfish, to be added to their ship- stores. After resuming the voyage, they passed No va Scotia, and in a few days anchored in Penobscot Bay. The natives flocked to the ship in great num bers, eager to exchange furs for knives, hatchets and various trinkets. They were friendly, unsuspicious, and gave no reason for the treatment they afterwards experienced from the crew. A strict watch was kept upon them at night, and, although not a sign of treachery was discovered, the night before the ship set sail, the " scute " was manned with six well-armed men, and sent to seize one of the shallops in Avhich the Indians had visited them. They brought it on board, and then again went to the shore, drove the savages from their wigwams, and took possession of all their simple effects — a proceeding as base as it was unchristian. The poor, uncivilized savages them selves were nobler, and purer than this unprincipled crew, whose whole route was marked by riot and drunkenness. Hudson must either have been an irres olute commander, or an accustomed participator in in such scenes. The morning after this outrage, Hudson set sail, J 218 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. steering southward along the coast of the continent. At Cape Cod, his men went ashore and found an abundance of "goodly grapes," which they bore to the ship like the trophies of Eshcol, to show " the fruit of the land." Hudson next passed Nantucket and Martha's Vine yard, and from these, continued a southern course till he reached the Carolinas, and then turned again to the north, having satisfied himself that no passage to the Pacific Ocean existed there. Upon his return, he discovered the bay, since called Delaware Bay, but made no attempt to land. He then coasted northward, " passing along a low, marshy coast skirt ed with broken islands," and in a few days the high lands of Neversink greeted his sight. On the mor ning of the 4th of September, he anchored within Sandy Hook Bay, willing to recruit after a long voy age, before exploring the wooded islands and minia ture capes and promotories that thrust themselves out all along the main land, as if to compete for the first footsteps of the strangers. "It is a very good land to fall in with, and a pleasant land to see," Hudson sum marily recorded in his journal. While at anchor here, Hudson sent several of his men with nets to fish, and it is supposed they landed on Coney Island. They returned to the ship with the spoil, and gave a gloAving account of plum-trees, laden with ripe, purple fruit, and draped and em bowered in a rich growth of grape-vines, which eve- rvAvhere hung out their tempting clusters. In the HENEY HUDSON. 2l!j meantime, the natives, who had noticed the arrival of the ship with wonder and curiosity, crowded to the shore ; finally, a fcAV summoned sufficient courage to venture in canoes, to get a nearer view of the formi dable Dutch craft. By the following morning, the Jersey shore was lined with men, women and chil dren, who eagerly awaited the landing of the welcome visitors, and enticed them with lively gestures. The sight of the green slopes, the dark billows of foliage upon the distant bills, the bright blossoms of the dog wood and wild briar, the changing leaves of the gay sumach, and the drooping, trailing vines overhanging the Avater's edge with their ripe burdens, was too al luring to be withstood, when compared with the late ly seen, bleak and barren regions of the north. As soon, therefore, as Hudson dispatched his men to sound the bay, they turned their boat to the shore. Attracted by the beauty of the forest, and disarmed of fear by the extreme kindness of the natives, they rambled for miles back into the wilderness, followed all the way by troops of Indians, and met by others, of seeming superiority, who wore mantles of fur or feathers, and displayed an abundance of copper oma ments. That they forgot their own magnificence in amazement at the quaint, outlandish costume of the strangers, is not to be wondered at ; for, should a Dutch craft of two centuries ago, not very unlike the one Irving humorously describes as " one hundred feet in the beam, one hundred feet in the keel, and one hun dred feet from the bottom of the stem post to the 220 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. taffrel," sail now into the enlivened bay, and its crew land upon the same shores, equipped in doublets and jerkins, enormous breeches, cocked hats, and high- heeled shoes, a far greater curiosity would be mani fested, even in these days of wonders, than was be trayed by the stately and grave politeness of the un tutored warriors. Many traditions of Hudson's first landing are pre served. One, well authenticated as having been re lated to a missionary by the Indians, is given in sev eral historical collections, as follows : " A long time ago, when there was no such thing known to the In dians as people with a white skin, some Indians who had been out a fishing, and where the sea widens, es pied at a great distance, something remarkably large, swimming or floating on the water, and such as they had never seen before. They immediately, returning to the shore, told their countrymen of what they had seen, and pressed them to go out with them, and dis cern what it might be. . . . Accordingly, they sent runners to carry the news to their scattered chiefs, that they might send off in every direction for the warriors to come in. These now came in num bers, and seeing the strange appearance, and that it Avas actually moving fonvard, concluded that it was a large canoe, or house, in which the Great Manitto himself Avas, and that he probably Avas coming to visit them. . . . They now prepared plenty of meat for a sacrifice ; the women Avere required to pre pare the best of victuals ; their idols or images were HENEY HUDSON. 221 exadined and put in order ; and a grand dance was supposed not only to be an agreeable entertainment for the Manitto, but might, A\dth the addition of a sacrifice, contribiiSa towards appeasing him, in case he Avas angry. ... It now appeared certain that it was their Manitto -coming, bringing, probably, some new kind of game. But other runners noAV came in, declaring that it was a house of various colors and filled with people, but that the people were of a dif ferent color from theiaaselves ; that they were, also, dressed in a different manner from themselves, and that one, in particular, appeared altogether red. This they they thought must be the Manitto himself. They were now lost in admiratioa. . . . The house (or large canoe) stopped, and a smaller canoe now came on shore, bringing the red man, and some others in it. The chiefs and Avise men formed a circle, into Avhich the red-clothed man and two others approached. He saluted them with a friendly countenance, and they returned the salute after their manner. They were amazed at the color of their skin and dress, par ticularly at the red man, whose clothes glittered with something they could not account for. He must be the great Manitto, they thought, but then why should he have a white skin ? A large, elegant hochhach was brought forward by one of the Manitto's ser vants, and something poured from it into a small cup or glass, and handed to the Manitto. He dra-uk it, had the cup refilled, and had it handed to tho chief next to him, for him to drink. The chief tooJr it 222 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. smelt it, and passed it to the next, who did the same. The cup passed in this way round the circle, untasted, and was about to be returned to the red clothed man, when one of their number, a spirited man, and q great warrior, jumped up, and harangued the multi tude on the impropriety of returning the cup unemp- tied. He said it was handed to them by the Manitto to drink out of, as he had done ; that to follow his example would please him, but to return what he had given them might provoke him, and cause him to destroy them. And that since he believed it to be for the good of the nation, that the contents offered them should be drunk, if no one else was willing to drink, he would try it, let the consequence be what it would, for it was better for one man to die, than that a whole nation should be destroyed. He then took the glass, smelt it, addressed them again, and bidding them all farcAvell, drank it. All eyes Avere now fixed upon him, to see what effect this would produce. He soon began to stagger, and the women cried, supposing he had fits. Presently he rolled on the ground, and they all began to bemoan him, sup posing him to be dying. Then he fell asleep, and they now thought he was dead, but presently they saw that he was still breathing. In a little time he awoke, jumped up, and declared that he never felt himself so happy before, as when he had drunk the cup. He asked for more, which was given to him, and the whole assembly soon joined him, and all be came intoxicated. While the intoxication lasted, the HENEY HUDSON. 223 white men kept themselves in their vessel, and when it was over, the man Avith the red clothes again re turned to them, bringing them presents of beads, axes, hoes, and stockings." A Dutch historian, who had himself visited Amer ica, and Avho Avrote his history only forty-three years after Hudson made the voyage, relates a similar tra dition. It is found, also, in a history written forty- one years after the occurrence, and, from its perfect accordance with the character of the crew, it may be esteemed a correct relation. Hudson and his men, according to their own ac count, regarded the Indians with distrust, although they gave no occasion for it, till, one dark night, when an exploring party were returning in a boat to the ship, they suddenly encountered two skiffs containing twenty-six Indians, who immediately discharged their arrows at random, in the direction of the retreating boat. Whether the attack was meditated, or Avhether the unexpected meeting frightened them, can only be judged by their subsequent conduct. They made no display of hostility the following day, but, on the contrary, went unarmed, and with innocent faces, to the ship, trusting themselves to the power of the whites, in a manner which, at least, did not betray guilt. One of the crew was killed by an arrow du ring the sudden affray, and was buried at Sandy Hook, upon a spot named Colman's Point, in memory of his loss. The next day, two long canoes, one filled with 224 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. armed Avarriors, the other with traders, approached the ship. Hudson would not permit them to come on board, with the exception of two men whom he dressed in red coats, and detained as hostages ; and with these he sailed into the Narrows, and from thence into the Bay of New York. Here he re mained for a day ; his solitary ship tracking the wa ters of the beautiful bay which, in the future, was to bear upon its bosom the stately steamers and grace ful fleets of many nations. On the one hand stretched the loAv shores of Long Island, and, on the other, knolls of " smiling green " rose, one above another. The trees Avaved a greeting from the hill-tops, and brilliant blossoms nodded a cheerful welcome from the sloping banks. Before him lay the island of Man hattan, in rich undulations of hill and dale, variega ted with the dark, shining foliage of the oak, and the pale green of the sycamore. Quiet and loneliness rested upon the island, which nearly a million now call home ; and scarcely a wave disturbed the waters where now a forest of masts girdles the city, as if the bristling legions of ancient armies, with their chariots, spears, and floating banners, had encircled it The great river which Hudson now beheld gliding into the bay from the north, suggested to him that here he might find the passage to India or China, which he had so long sought — an idea easily ridi culed, now that it is proved fallacious, but no more chimerical, at that time, than a thousand others en tertained bv his cotemporaries. Accordingly, the HENEY HUDSON. 226 Half Moon was soon slowly creeping up the wide river, occasionally anchoring in its lazy course. In dians came shooting out from the shores, here and there, in their canoes, laden with provisions, and cor dially offering their simple hospitality. All were re pulsed with a distrust which they were quick to per ceive, and ready to return. By the fourteenth of September, the ship " anchored in a region where the land was very high and moun tainous." At last, then, the little vessel, with its quaint crew, had reached the Highlands. Used, as Hudson was, to the monotonous undulations of his own coun try, and to dreary stretches of etemal ice and snow, and accustomed, as the Dutch mariners were, to gaze upon the fiat meadows of Holland, they must have f."-ahd a novel charm in this wild overhanging of pre cipices, the lofty pyramids of foliage, and -the wide, smooth riyer, enclosed among the mountains like a chain of lakelets, or as if a Loch Lomond, with its Scottish heights, had been transported to the midst of the rich region they traversed. They had passed the Palisades, " those pillared heights, in grandeur lone. Oft visioned to our dumb and dreamy wonder. One long Niagara, changed to silent stone." All night, the ship was moored beneath the tower ing Highlands, within hearing of the roar of wild beasts, and the screeching of night-birds ; perhaps, too, the beacon fires of the Indians gleamed from the J* 15 226 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. hills, as a warning of the invasion of a new and un friendly people. At sunrise, a mist hung over the river, and whitened the mountains of forest, but a fresh breeze soon swept it away, and again the ship was gliding through the windings of the Highlands. Here the two natives who had been gaudily decked out, and retained as hostages, leaped into the water, swam to the shore, and vented either their delight at regained freedom, or anger at their captors, in loud cries, and " scornful looks." Hudson regretted their escape. The ship, it is supposed, was next anchored near Catskill Landing; they had "passed by the high mountains " and arrived in sight of others " which lie from the river's side." Unlike the changed shores of the river, they are yet, as when Hudson beheld them, unscathed by the axe, the plow, and the sythe of the unsparing American. We still see them rounded in magical hues and shapes against the sky, in the pearly mists of morning, or softly lined by the shad ows of evening. " Nay, so dim the distant gleam And faint the shadows, that, to musing eyes. The snow and vapor ghostly forms enshroud • A Hamlet's father, helmet-crowned and pale. Or, turbaned in the summit-wreaths of cloud. The Prophet of Khorassan, with his Silver -Veil" Here Hudson found " very loving people, and very old men," whose offers of hospitality were more kind ly received than those of the war-like tribes below HENEY HUDSON. 227 He was entertained by an aged chief, and a happy understanding seemed to exist between them. The natives flocked to the ship with provisions, anxious to exchange them for the showy trinkets the Dutchmen offered. A day passed here in fishing and filling the water "casks, and, on the following, Hudson continued his progress up the river, till he arrived in the vicin ity of the present city of Hudson. He now found the river growing narrow and shallow — " a phenomenon not uncommon in the ascent of rivers," says an au thor, with overflowing humor, " but which puzzled the honest Dutchmen prodigiously." Doubting the possibility of a higher ascent, yet unwilling to dis miss, altogether, his chei-ished surmise that it would afford an opening to China, he ventured six leagues further, Avhere the ship ran aground. He then dis patched several of his men in a boat, to explore the river, and take soundings. They reported the nar rowness of the channel, but Hudson was still deter mined to move up the river. On the morning of the twenty-first, it was his inten tion to proceed ; but by this time crowds of Indians had pressed around the ship, and clambered upon the deck. They were regarded with coldness and re serve. Hudson determined to assure himself of their intentions by causing them to drink deeply, and thus " throw them off their guard." Inducing a few of the chiefs to accompany him to the cabin, he entertained them with wine till they " were all merry." The wife of one of the chiefs, and some of her compan- 228 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. ions, sat near, modestly and timidly watching the strange proceedings, and, probably, wondering at the unaccountable merriment, aud boisterous movements of the usually grave chieftains. The cup passed round till one of the number fell into the lethargy of drunkenness. Unable to awaken him, the rest be came alarmed, and, believing him poisoned, or under some mysterious spell, fled to the deck, plunged into their canoes, and, with all speed, made for the shore. They could not thus forsake one of their number ; some of them returned with long strings of beads, hoping to buy back the drunken chief. By the fol lowing day, he recovered from the effects of the ex periment which Hudson and his rolicking crew, de void of all principle and honor, had imposed upon the innocent natives, introducing among them the vices of civilized nations, and withholding from them the light of Truth which God required at their hands. After having explored and sounded the river as far as the site of Albany, Hudson was obliged to yield his opinion, and return by the way he entered. While retracing his course, some of his men occasion ally landed, and strolled along the banks, admiring " the good store of goodly oaks and walnut trees, and chestnut trees, yew trees, and tiees of SAveet wood." Thus they rambled and glided down the river, and through the wilderness already brilliant with the gorgeous hues of October. The looming Catskills again attracted their admiring eyes, though Hudson little dreamed, as he gazed, that he should HENRY HUDSON. 229 ever figure there, in the eyes of posterity, as " a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten countenance," wearing " a lace doublet, broad belt and hanger, high- crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high- heeled shoes, with roses in them," and he playing at nine-pins with his uncouth, phantom crew. After passing the Highlands, the ship was once more anchored, and, as usual, crowds of natives has tened to dispose of their furs and tobacco. They had not sufficient to purchase all the articles their eyes coveted, and one Indian was prompted to steal what he could not otherwise obtain. Climbing from his canoe to the cabin window, he obtained a pillow and some clothing, and hastily rowed away with his spoil. He Avas seen, and, in another moment, was struck down by a Avell-aimed shot. The ship's boat was manned and sent for the stolen articles, which were obtained, but, on their return, an Indian, who deter mined to revenge the death of his comrade, seized and attempted to overturn the boat. One of the crew cut off his offending hand at a blow, and he sank, never to rise again. Thus were the fiercest passions of the savages called forth by uncalled-for severity, and by brutal sporting with their ignorance. As might be expected, by the time the Llalf Moon reached the mouth of the river, the Indians were pre pared to take revenge for the indignities put upon them. Several canoes, filled with armed warriors, intercepted the ship's passage, near the island of Manhattan, and a vigorous fight ensued. Ten In- 230 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. dians were shot during the affray, and the rest fled in terror to the woods for shelter. None of the crew were harmed. By the fourth of October, Hudson was again at sea. The length of the voyage had caused much dissatis faction among the crew. Some wished to winter at Newfoundland, and accomplish the object for which they had been sent, by pursuing a northern course, the following spring. Others desired to hasten home. The mutinous spirit that existed among his men, decided Hudson to retum immediately to Hol land, satisfied in having discovered for his patrons a noble stream, navigable for more than one hundred miles, through a beautiful and fertile region. But, instead of retuming to Holland, he landed at Dart mouth, in England, in consequence, it is supposed, of a mutiny ; the Dutch attribute his detention there to jealousy of the English king. He promptly sent the journal and charts of his voyage to his employers, and depicted the advantages they might derive from their acquisition of one of the finest harbors yet discovered, and the picturesque and majestic river, Avliich he named the "Great Eiver of the Mouuiains," but which Avas, eventually, to bear his own name. Allowing himself only the repose of a few months, Hudson was actively engaged in preparing for an other voyage, early in the spring of 1610. The Lon don Company furnished him with the ship Discovery, of fifty-five tons. It was thoroughly equipped for a cruise in the northern seas, and manned with twenty- HENRY HUDSON. 231 three men, one of whom was Hudson's son. They sailed from London, the seventeenth of April, and steered for the north-western inlets of the American continent, especially Davis' Straits, hoping to find, in some one of them, a channel to the " Great South Sea." In less than a month, the Discovery was coasting Iceland — that dreary island which Malte-Brun de scribes as " a land of prodigies, where the subterra neous fires of the abyss burst through a frozen soil ; where boiling springs shoot up their fountains, amidst eternal snows; and where the powerful genius of liberty, and the no less powerful genius of poetry, have given brilliant proofs of the energies of the hu man mind, at the farthest confines of animated nature." While the voyagers were struggling through the shoals of ice, and battling with the winds, which often bore along columns of little, icy particles, blinding and painful to the exposed mariners, they beheld, at a dis tance of scarcely two leagues, the shooting flames of Mount Hecla, and the red-hot lava overflowing its scarred declivities. Willing to redruit, after a fort night's endurance of storms and head winds, Hudson took refuge in a harbor on the western side of the island, where he was kindly received by the natives. The sailors amused themselves with bathing in some of the hot springs, which throw up streaming j ets from all the plains of Iceland. Although " hot enough to scald a fowl," as Hudson's journal remarks, and, al though the inhabitants often make use of them, in 232 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. boiling vegetables, meat, or eggs, yet the sailors suf fered no inconvenience in these singular baths. The desolateness of the snowy valleys, is relieved by these fantastic fountains, which rise in tall, smoking col umns, hung with sparkling girandoles. Not satisfied with the respite, which Hudson thus considerately afforded his men, they began here to exhibit the insubordinate temper, which was to ter minate so fatally. The most quarrelsome of the crew were Juet, the mate, who had accompanied Hudson on his previous voyage, and Henry Green, a young Englishman, of respectable parentage, but whose profligacy had made him an outcast. Hudson had found him almost a beggar, in the streets of London, had clothed and fed him, and had interceded with his mother for a sum of money to fit him for a vojuge ; he then offered him fair wages to accompany him, and, in order to awaken his ambition, encouraged him to aspire to a place in the "Prince's Guards," upon his return. Hudson extended the utmost kind ness and forbearance toward these two abandoned men, who, though bound to him by the ties of grati tude, and frequent fellowship in danger, filled up the measure of their degradation, by consigning a tried and forgiving friend to a lingering and fearful death. Hudson succeeded in allaying the disturbance Avliich these two men had created among the Avhole crew, aud, when he left Iceland, supposed that kiiid- line'ss was restored. By the fourth of June, they be held the coast of Greenland, but the shores were so HENRY HUDSON. 23-^ firmly ice-bound that no attempts were made to land. Doubling the southern point, he steered for the north west portion of the American continent — though his progress was often seriously obstructed by fioating " mountains of ice." While sailing in Davis' Straits, he was in the close vicinity of an overturning ice berg — a phenomenon occasioned by the melting of the ice upon one side, and its consequent loss of equi librium. The thick fog, by which the melting masses are surrounded, and the sort of whirlpool at tending their wild frolics, causes imminent danger to ships in their neighborhood. But Hudson had scarcely time to be grateful for his escape, before another and another came driving in his course, as if endowed Avith malignant intelligence, and a determination to bear doAvn upon his frail vessel, and sink it forever. Like the jealous Japanese, they seemed resolved to keep off the unwelcome presence of int^meddling foreigners. It required Hudson's utmost skill to dodge these threatening rocks of ice, and he was glad to escape into a bay that offered shelter. He had no sooner reached it, than a severe storm overtook him, and the rapidly accumulating ice was driven so violently against the ship, that he could only preserve her from destruction by running her into the thicke&t of it, and permitting it to lock her into a frozen des ert. Dismay was depicted upon the countenances of the mariners. Some "fell sick with grief," but, as soon as the storm ceased, the most courageous went 231 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. lustily to work, hewing a path for the ship. They succeeded in hauling her from one clear sea to an other, yet, as far as the eye could reach, the same field of ice stretched before them, and, at last, they gave up in despair. Hudson afterwards confessed that he expected to have perished there. His men, however, perceived no misgiving or fear in his demeanor. He preserved a cheerful countenance, and endeavored to recall the vigor and animation o^ the crew, who had yielded themselves to helpless fear, irritable repinings, or hardened bravado. The trial of the moment, devel oped the characters with whom Hudson had to deal ; and he must have been stung with the ingratitude and reckless villany, now clearly exhibited to him in the conduct of those whom he had befriended. He forebore all remonstrance or threats, and, with an air of self-confidence and of unbroken hope, he summoned the crew, spread his charts before them, and offered to their choice what course they should pursue ; whether he should tum his prow home ward, or should still press to the north, assuring them with pride, that they had already outsailed all English navigators, and might yet secure the glory of discovering the passage so perseveringly sought for many years. As he anticipated, no two could agree, and they were forced to see that they did not know themselves, what they desired. The majority finally declared it mattered little where they went, and that they HENEY HUDSON. 235 longed only to escape from the dismal prospect be fore them. Hudson kindly reasoned with the most turbulent, allayed the fears of the timid, and in spired the hopeless with courage and strength. He then united them in a resolute effort to extricate the ship. They succeeded, after much labor, in working her out of the broad field of ice which had so speed ily and unexpectedly enclosed her. Had Hudson continued to exercise the cool courage, decision, and kind expostulation, which characterized him during this perilous experience, he might have escaped the sad fate that awaited him. Their north-western course was resumed, and by the eighth of July, land was discovered ; it was cov ered with snow, and Hudson named it " Desire Pro voked." A succession of capes, bays, and islands, met his eyes, as he entered the straits, which noAv bear his name. Seeing the broad channel before him, he believed that, at last, he had found the cov eted passage to the Indies. With elated spirits, he sailed through the straits, till he approached the last visible points of land on the north and south, one of which he called Cape Digges ; the other. Cape Wor- senholme. He sent several of his men to ascend the hills of Cape Digges, hoping they could discern the great ocean, he was sure lay beyond. They explored the grassy plains that intervened between the coast and the hills, but the farther they advanced, the more distant seemed the deceptive hills, until, Avearied with dragging over the marshy expanse, and overtaken by 236 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AirEEICA. a storm, they returned towards the ship. A fog had veiled her from their sight, and, for some time, they wandered along the shore in vain search, but the firing of two guns on board, guided them safely back. They could give no account of the imagined sea ; but a discovery, more important to their present neces sities, resulted from their explorations, namely, the abundance of game, found upon the cape. Hudson was too impatient to reach the Indies, to listen to the wishes of his men, to store the ship while opportunity offered, and immediately set sail for the broad, inland sea, that opened to the south. It required but a short time to reach the extremity of Hudson's Bay. When Hudson beheld the unwel come sight of land ahead, his heart sank within him ; yet, unwilling to believe himself embayed, he fol lowed the deceitful windings of the shore, always be lieving that, beyond the next jutting point, he should find the wished-for outlet. After days of wandering in this " labyrinth without end," as he impatiently denominated it, he was obliged to acknowledge his disappointment, and the uselessness of further effort, as the season was now too far advanced for exploration. Irritated at his repeated failures, he no longer bore with his former patience, the complaints and contin ued quarrels of his wrangling crew. A court of in quiry was appointed to try the most turbulent, which resulted in the exposure of the mutinous plans of Eobert Juet, the mate, and his associate, the boatswain, both of whom had induced the discontented sailors to HENEY HUDSON. 237 keep loaded arms by them. The two were removed from their duties, and replaced by others in whom Hudson reposed confidence. The first of November had overtaken the voyagers while still exploring the bay. Successive tempests had driven them hither and thither ; long, cold nights contributed to their suffering ; disappointment and insubordination distracted their minds, and only the disheartening prospect of wintering in the bay was before them. With a perseverance amounting to obstinacy, Hudson determined to remain and be in readiness, in the following spring, to continue his pur suit. He ran the ship into a small bay, and sent two of the sailors in search of a suitable position for a winter's shelter ; Avhen found, the ship was hauled aground, and in another week, was firmly fastened in the ice. " It is difficult," says a review of " Life at Hudson's Bay," " for stay-at-home people, who, at the first ice- tree upon their Avindows, creep into the chimney cor ner and fieecy hosiery, to imagine such a temperature i^s that of Hudson's Bay, Avhere, from October to April, the thermometer seldom rises to the freezing point, and frequently falls from 30 deg. to 40 deg., 45 deg., and even 49 deg. below zero, of Fahrenheit " — a temperature, however, which a continued calm renders endurable. The slightest breath of Avind penetrates a treble suit of fur, leather and blankets, as readily as if the wearer was enveloped in gauze. Without the luxury of fur or a superabundance of 238 DISCOVEEEES AKD PIONEERS < IF AMERICA. blankets, with nothing beyond their ordinary supply of clothing, and Avith scarcely two months' provisions, the -forlorn mariners of the Discovery were exposed to the rigors of such a Avinter. Whichever Avay they tumed, nothing could be perceived but a savage des ert, where precipitous rocks rose to the cold, gray clouds, or yawned into deep ravines and barren valleys which never felt the warmth of the sun, and never could tempt the searching footsteps of a human being, to their unfathomable depths of eternal snow. There was no alternative but to remain in this dreary and unpeopled region for more than six monthS; and to shelter themselves as best they could. Hudson commenced at once to put the men on short allow ance, and offered a reward for " beast, fish, or fowl," which they might obtain. During the first three months, they secured a fair supply of white partridges and other birds, but as the cold became extreme, game gradually disappeared, and the half-starved sailors went wandering over the bleak hills in search of anything that could sustain life ; not a frog, nor a clump of moss was refused by them. In these al most daily excursions, some one returned Avitli his feet, hands, or ears, severely frozen ; for, though a clear and cloudless sky was above them, upon firet venturing out, it was no surety against a tempest up on their return ; and to meet the keen, piercing blast, driving clouds of snow before it, was an intensity of suffer-ug of which they carried the marks for many a day- HENRY HUDSON. 239 Unable to find comfortable shelter on ship-board, for the whole crew, Hudson directed the carpenter to go ashore and erect a suitable house. The carpenter had, himself, proposed doing it earlier in the season, but he assured his captain that the frost and snow now rendered the work impossible, and added, in an insolent tone, that it was not his business, he being only the ship carpenter. This refusal roused Hud son's long-suppressed temper ; Avith reckless volubility he heaped abusive epithets upon the offending sailor, drove him from the cabin, and threatened to hang him. Henry Green took part with the carpenter, which still further excited Hudson's anger. A few hours of reflection brought regret to the carpenter, and, with the promptness of an honorable, generous nature, he returned to obedience, although its require ments were at variance from his own judgment, and immediately began the erection of the house. He remained,' to the end, Hudson's warmest friend. With Green, this quarrel was but the sure betrayal of his baseness ; presuming upon it, he disregarded the or ders of his superior, in taking a gunning excursion. During his absence, Hudson gave to another sailor a gOAvn Avhich he had promised to Green, seeking thus to show his displeasure towards the young man, who evinced his ingratitude for past kindness, and at a time, too, when he himself was harassed Avith cares and disappointment. Green resented the transfer of the expected gift, when Hudson imprudently and harshiy reproached him, telling him that " all his friends would? 240 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. not trust him with twenty shillings, and, therefore, why should he? As for Avages, he had none, nor should have, if he did not please him well." These words were like a poisoned arrow in the heart of the half-reformed vagrant. All the fair resolutions he had ever entertained, vanished, and from that mo ment, he yielded to the guidance of his evil angel — the spirit who exultingly reenters the heart from which he has been partially expelled, " and taketh with him seven other spirits, more wicked tlian himself." The winter passed away, giving no other employ ment to the men than an exhausting and continued search for food and fuel. Doubtless, the drift-wood that had floated from unknown regions, could some times be hewn from its frozen bed ; for voyagers often speak of this available fuel, which is dashed and ground against icy rocks till it sometimes ignites and sends up smoke and flame in the midst of the dreary sea. The very extremities, too, to which the sailors were driven, in consuming fat substances, such as are deemed luxurious among the Esquimaux, yet are re volting to us, sustained them more effectually against the cold than if provided Avith their own accustomed food. Nothing else generates an equal degree of heat in the animal system ; the provision of such nutri ment in the whales, bears, and seals of rigorous cH- mates, and the appetite with which even a temporary inhabitant craves oily food, are striking illusfrations HENET HUDSON. 24 J Df the exercise of a Divine plan, and the supervision of a wise and benevolent God. The only human being seen by the Discovery's crew during their long imprisonment in the bay, was a savage, whom they gladly welcomed, and loaded with presents. He left them well pleased, and, in a few days, returned with a sledge laden with deer and beaver skins. Strangely enough, he gave back all the presents he had received ; but Hudson insisted upon his retaining them, and purchased one of the deer-skins. He promised, upon his departure, to bring some of his people, when he came again ; he was never seen afterwards, and the hope of obtaining provisions through him was reluctantly abandoned. As the ice began to break up, a small supply of fish was secured, and by scanty allowance, they managed to exist till spring. By the middle of June, the ice was sufficiently broken to permit the egress of the ship. Before sail ing, Hudson distributed to his crew the last of the provisions, about a pound of bread to each man, " and, knowing their wretched condition, and the un certainty of what might befall them, he also gave to every man a bill of return, which might be showed at home, if it pleased God that they came home, and he wept when he gave it to them." Three days of sailing launched them into the midst of far-extending ice-shoals, and there they were forced to cast anchor. To add to Hudson's perplexity, some of the men had voraciously eaten all their bread, and were clamoring K 16 242 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AJNIEEICA. for more. Some cheese was found and divided among them. Suspecting that certain of his men had con cealed provisions, Hudson declared that all their chests should be searched, and ordered one sailor to bring all he had in store. He obeyed, bringing for ward a bag containing thirty cakes. The occurrence greatly exasperated the most discontented of the crew, and they immediately perfected their murder ous plots. At midnight, they assembled, and determined upon the destruction of their commander, and all who were friendly to him. One Pricket, to whom they unfold- ed their plans, entreated them to desist from the dark crime they were about to commit; he reminded them of their wives and children at home, who would shrink from them as murderers, and of the ignomini ous end they would bring upon themselves. Green, who, of all others, should have shielded his benefac tor, told the conscientious sailor " to hold his peace," and that he " would rather be hanged at home than starved abroad." Finding such entreaties useless. Pricket urged them to delay the execution of their design for three — for tAvo days — for one, even ; but the hardened wretches refused. Indignant at their brutality, he reproached them with blood-thirstiness, and with revenge, rather than a regard for the safety of the ship and of themselves, which Avas the alleged reason ; for, the only offense they imputed to Hud son, was his irresolute conduct, aud the errors which he had committed from the beginning of the voyage. HENEY HUDSON. 243 In reply to these reproaches, Green seized a Bible, and swore Avith a hypocrisy equal to his villainy, that " he would harm no man, and what he did was for the good of the voyage, and nothing else." The following oath was then taken by all, at Pricket's persuasion : " You shall swear truth to God, your Prince, and country ; you shall do nothing but to the glory of God, and the good of the action in hand, and harm no man." His last effort to restrain them by this solemn oath, proved useless. Meanwhile, Green went to Hudson, and pretended friendship and affection, and left with him an impres sion of reformed resolutions, and quieted any suspi cions he might entertain of the meditated mutiny. But a few hours remained to perfect their plans. Daybreak was fixed upon as the time of execution, and it came quickly enough. At the first glimpse of morning, they began their work. As Hudson came up from his cabin, he was seized and bound. His son followed, together with a sailor who v/as Hudson's avowed friend. The ship's boat Avas now hauled alongside, and they were thrown into it, to be set adrift, and abandoned to a lingering and horrible death. Had the work of these murderers ceased here, it might be attributed to the untaught and un checked impulses of a revengeful temper ; but, with a cold-blooded cruelty that scarcely has its parallel among civilized beings, they now called up those of their companions who were sick or lame in their berths, and placed them, also, in the open boat, 244 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. Henry Green was foremost in the Satanic work, roll ing oath after oath from his lips, as he thrust the pale and disabled sailors over the ship's side. Pricket once more interfered, entreating them upon his knees, " for the love of God, to remember themselves, and do as they would be done unto." But they only laughed him to scorn, and ordered him back to the cabin. Eight men now occupied the little shallop, with nothing to shield them from the tempest, nothing to satisfy their hunger and thirst, and nothing by Avhich to guide the frail boat to a place of security. The carpenter, who was permitted to remain on ship board, could not endure the cruel sight, and, rather than see his master perish thus, he declared that he would cast his lot with him, and save him yet, if he could. The same noble spirit that could acknowledge and repair an error, was capable of the generous risk of life in saving that of his commander. The touch ing contrast with his own wickedness must have smote the heart of Green, if he had not already fully yield ed himself to the power of the Evil One. Being free in his choice, the carpenter supplied himself with tools, a gun, some powder and shot, an iron pot, a small quantity of meal and other provisions, and bid ding farewell to Pricket, with tears in his eyes, he leaped into the shallop which was yet dragging at the stern. The ship was now loose from the ice. The anchor was weighed, the sails hoisted, and a fair -wind fioated HENEY HUDSON. 245 her towards the strait by Avhich the mariners had en tered. When she had reached a nearlj'^ clear sea, the rope holding the boat was cut, and Hudson, with his son, his brave friend and the six feeble sailors, were left to the mercies of an Arctic sea* The murderers turned, unrelenting, from a last glimpse of their vic tims, who were helplessly rocking upon the waves, and crouching together to elude the keen, sweeping blast, that bore death upon its wings. The ship, un der full sail, stood for the capes, skimming as swiftly and safely along as if she bore the good and the just. But God left the offenders to fill up the measure of their iniquity. They were fast gliding around in the converging circles of an eternal maelstrom, and, in toxicated with their abandoned villainy, did not per ceive the abyss into which they were soon to plunge. Having a long voyage before them, and being al most destitute of provisions, it was necessary to land at the capes, and obtain whatever could be found. As soon as land was discovered, therefore, a boat, manned with five men, was sent ashore. Savages crowded to the beach, offering all the provision the sailors could desire, but in an unguarded moment, sud denly attacked them. The agility of the sailors in springing to the boat, alone saved them from im mediate death. As it was, three were mortally wounded, and unable to assist in rowing the boat be yond the reach of a shower of arrows that darted after them. Green was struck, and instantly killed, while an awful oath was upon his lips. The rest 246 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. reached the ship with difficulty. Two others of the number, who were most clamorous for the desertion of their commander and comrades, expired the same day from the effects of poisoned arrows, cursing and raving till silenced by the fearful hand of Death. The three were committed to the same cold grave they had prepared for Hudson and their wronged shipmates ; and a fourth, equally wretched in his end, followed them to their icy bed, two days after. The remainder of the crew succeeded in gaining the Atlantic, and shaped their course for Leland. For weeks, they were tempest-tossed, their ship disa bled by storms, and themselves reduced to feeble skeletons by starvation. The skins of their last sup ply of fowl, were voraciously devoured, and even the bones, fried in tallow, were every one consumed. The candles were now divided among them — one pound to each man, and, with only this morsel to sus tain them, they had yet to count long miles, with only a crazy ship to creep over the surging ocean. At this crisis, Juet, who had been a close companion in crime with Green, but who was the best pilot re maining, died in the agonies of remorse and starva tion. His cries Avent up dolefully from the swaying ship. No one could give relief. Each man, too weak to stand, sat silently at his post, gazing at the others' pale, stony countenances. They cared not where the vessel went, and they would sit helplessly " and see the foresail or mainsail fly up to the tops, HENEY HUDSON. 247 the sheets being either flown or broken, and would not help it theniselv-es, nor call to oth-ers for help." While they thus silently Avaited the coming of death, the joyful cry of "A sail! a sail!" roused their remaining strength. They watched its nearer approach with intense and painful eagerness, till their rescue was sure. It proved to be a fishing bark off the coast of Ireland, whose crew had descried the tattered sails of the ship, and hastened to the relief of the forlorn mariners. They were taken into a har bor, kindly provided for by the commander of the fishing bark, and finally succeeded in reaching London. Their arrival in England, and the history of the crimes and suffering of the voyage, produced a gen eral feeling of commiseration and sorrow. The fate of one of England's most daring navigators, and the sudden closing of a career that had reflected honor upon his country, as a discoverer, excited so deep an interest that two ships were sent in search of him the following year. They returned, however, in a few months, unsuccessful. Hudson was probably a self-made man, and as such, deserves the high encomiums which history has bestowed. He was a fearless navigator and a man of generous sympathies, but he possessed neither the self-reliance and firmness requisite to the commander of a difficult enterprise and a turbulent crew, nor the noble virtues which crown the memory of the truly great His life-long, brave battle with Arctic hard- 248 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERTOA. ships and lonely perils, commands a lasting admira tion ; and his unknown, but certainly distressing, fate, awakens the liveliest sympathy. Whether his bones rest in the bay that bears his name, or his dust has been scattered by fierce Avinds over the cold, northern wilderness, his name will live as long as that vast inland sea remains, and as perpetually as the Hudson Eiver rolls through its mountain gates, and washes a city destined soon to be the mart of the world. VL JOHI SMITH. The hero of a French novel, the Aladdin of Arabi- .in romance, or the adventures of a gipsey, could not exceed, in variety of incident, in strange escapes, or in eccentric feats, the remarkable life of this king of all John Smiths — the founder of Virginia. There is little of moral greatness in his character. He was comparatively free from vicious habits ; he was sagacious, energetic, and bold, but he was too erratic and fickle in his tastes, to harbor any fixed purpose. The same motive that impelled his wan derings from London to Constantinople, from Paris to Alexandria, sent him to uncivilized America — not like the early discoverers, to extend the known limits of the earth, and add to the stores of science, nor like the northern settlers, to establish an Indian mis sion, or to seek an asylum of liberty — but simply to gratify the love of a wild, roving life. Yet his name is a star in the constellation of his period — a star, brilliant to the chance-gazer, but flickering to the eye of one who seeks a pure and steady light of char acter. K* 250 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. Captain Smith was bom in 1579, in Willoughby, England. While yet young, he Avas left an orphan, with a small property, in the care of guardians, who abused the trust. His propensity to wander was first exhibited at school, where he sold his books and satchel, and, with the proceeds, was about stealing away to sea, when he was deterred by the death of his father. His education was thenceforward neg- lected, and he was left to gain his knowledge of men and the world through his novel experience and acute observation. His guardian relatives accorded him a vagabond life, until he was old enough to entei upon an apprenticeship with a merchant of Lynn. The common-place duties, and the stability and diligence required of him, were at war with his inclinations, so that, without an adieu, he left his employer, and began a reckless search after romantic adventure. Longing to visit foreign countries, he entered the service of the sons of Lord Willoughby, who were about to take the tour of the continent. Soon after their arrival in France, they dismissed him, giving him sufficient means to return to England. But the pic turesque dresses of the peasants, their jesting and chattering, the charming groves and vineyards of France, and, above all, the gayety of Paris, were too strong attractions to the youthful wanderer, for h'm to return to staid old England, and to the beorudged bounty of his relatives. He made his way alone to Paris, and there met a Scottish gentleman, who im mediately interested himself in the young traveler. JOHN SAHTD. 25l Smith was, at this time, fifteen years of age. That his countenance was extremely pleasing, his manner spirited and graceful, his wit ready and promising, may be inferred from the advice given him by his Highland friend, Avhich was, to become a courtier in. the court of King James — the Avould-be Solomon. Nothing seemed easier, or more desirable, to the partial Scotchman. With the whimsical ardor of an enthusiast, he replenished the purse of his new-found protege, Avrote letters of introduction to his friends in Scotland, and, with hearty wishes for the young ad venturer's success, saAV him safely out of Paris. But with the benefactor, disappeared all Smith's sincere intentions to find favor in the eyes of the Scottish monarch. Arrived at Eouen, new friends influenced him, and the sight of lively preparations for A^^ar in duced him to try a soldier's life. He enlisted as a private, and, in a few days, was on his way to Havre de Grace. Four years in the wars of the Netherlands, though affording his first military lessons, contribu ted nothing to his needed stability. He found him self as penniless and unknown as ever ; but, never at a loss for an expedient, he bethought himself of the letters of his Scotch patron, and immediately set out for the court of James. The vessel in which he sailed was wrecked upon the Holy Isle of Northumberland, and he narrowly escaped drowning, only to encoun ter an equally dangerous illness. After several weeks of confinement, he succeeded in reaching Scotland 252 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. and presented the letters, which were expected to launch him at once upon a promising career. In this he was disappointed. He was hospitably and kindly received, but his good fortune extended no farther. Too impatient to endure delay, and too in dependent for a sycophant, he abandoned the notion of becoming a courtier, bade adieu to his entertainers, and returned to England, and to his old home at Willoughby. Handsome, graceful, soldierly in his carriage, hvely and generous, abounding in foreign accomplishments, he was the Adonis of the village maidens, the wonder and dread of the awkward beaux, and the pride of the cousins who had turned him off, a vagabond boy The first flush of pleasure at his flattering reception having passed, however, he became wearied of the profuse attentions of his friends, and quite disgusted Avith the " humdrum quiet of a country town." Pro fessing himself tired of the world, he suddenly deter mined to turn hermit — perhaps with the hope of ac quiring the notoriety he had thus far failed to secure beyond his immediate circle. He concealed himself, as he says, "in woodie pasture, environed with many hundred acres of other woods," and there, " by a faire brooke, he built himself a pavilion of boughs, Avhere only in his clothes he lay." In this retreat, -he amused himself like a knight-errant, with " a good horse, lance and ring." Two books, upon the art of war, were his only companions ; his food was chiefly the prohibited game of the forest. Of course, wonder- JOHN SMTTH. 253 ful stories were soon afloat among the peasantry, and it was not long before the attention of the neighbor ing nobility was directed to the eccentric hermit. An Italian gentleman, employed by the Earl of Lincoln, Avas deputed to visit the " pavilion," and entice the recluse knight from his solitude, in which attempt he succeeded, after some weeks of occasional compan ionship. Smith, soon afterwards, went to London. He was there imposed upon by four French rogues, who, by fair promises, induced him to accompany them to France. They embarked in a small vessel, the cap tain of which was probably a smuggler. When arrived at St. Valery, in Picardy, the four thieves were clan destinely sent ashore at midnight, with the money and clothes of the deceived youth. Upon the discov ery of the robbery, the passengers expressed their sympathy, and one of them took him under his own escort, provided him with means, and, when landed, introduced him to his friends, who received Smith with extraordinary kindness and hospitality. He finally found himself luxuriating at the princely seats of noblemen, but "such pleasant pleasures suited lit tle with poore estate and restless spirit, that never could finde content to receive such noble favours as he could neither deserve nor requite ; " he left his generous friends, and roamed hither and thither, re duced to extreme poverty. In his wanderings, he met, in a wood, one of the French gallants, Avho had deceived him. Each, at the recognition, bared his 264 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEBIOA. weapon, without words. Smith was victorious ; and, in presence of people from a neighboring tower, obliged the vanquished man to confess his guilt. His acquaintance with the Earl of Ployer, soon after, and the friendship and interest of that noble man, gave a new direction to Smith's perverted ener gy and impulse. With the design of joining the armies of Eodolph, of Germany, then at war against the Turks and their leader, the third Mahomet, he left the earl, who supplied him with means to embark at Marseilles, for Italy. All on board the vessel were Catholics, with the exception of Smith. The storms and perils of the voyage alarmed and excited them. Finding their Ave Marias and vows availed nothing, they tumed their jealous eyes upon the heretic, deci ded that he was the cause of their distress, and, like the chiefs of heathen Africa, or • the simple Hindoo, determined to sacrifice him to appease the anger of their gods. He was, accordingly, thrown into the sea. Being an able swimmer, and with nothing of fear in his nature, he calmly made his way among the roll ing billows, to the isle of St. Mary, not far distant, and off the coast of Savoy. Not a little exhausted by his battle with the waves, and dripping Avith his unwel come bath, he obtained footing upon the lonely island, and found himself the penniless monarch of its barren limits, Avith the prospect of a Crusoe's life. He was quite capable of realizing such a life, but he had scarcely tested its pleasure, when a ship sought shelter there from a storm. The captain proved to JOHN SMITH. 255 be a friend of the Earl of Ployer, and learning that nobleman's kindness to Smith, treated the picked-up outcast with studied generosity. The vessel was bound to Alexandria, in Egypt, and thither Smith went, reckless as to Avhat quarter of the globe he journeyed, so that his preeminent desire to see the Avorld, would be gratified. Fortune played with him, like the whirlwind with a leaf, frisking it here and there, drifting it into fair fields, turning a pirouette ¦with it in the sand, or tossing it upon the Avaves only to catch it up again. Smith yielded to circumstances ; he was as contented on a piratical cruise, as in the family circles of noblemen — as hap py in an active campaign, as in a hermit's cell. He paid little heed to conscience; as to moral principle, he had none ; for when he found that Captain La Eoche's intention was to capture a Venetian merchant-ship, in the Adriatic, for the spoil, he offered no objection, but engaged, with a good will, in the undertaking, fought obstinately, and shared the booty with the rest. Silks, velvets, gold tissue and jewels, were among the prizes. "Five hundred sequins and a box of jewels " Avere awarded to Smith; with these ill-gotten riches, he parted from Captain La Eoche, and set out upon a tour of Italy. From Leghorn, to the ruins and palaces of Eome, where it was " his chance to see Pope Clement, the Eighth, with many cardinals, creepe ^^:> the holy stairs," and from Eome to the bustling Neapolitans, ¦Smith wandered — as much at home among the croAvds 250 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. of lazaroni and mountebanks, beggars and bandits, at Naples, as in the companionship of young men of rank, in the papal city. When at Venice, the city of islands and of gondoliers, Smith found his sequins nearly exhausted. Satiated with the beauty and novelty of Italy, he remembered for what he had left France, and, with his usual comet-like movements, set out foi Eagusa. The broken coast of Dalmatia and Albania, where olives, figs, and Corinthian grapes were ripening in the sun, was quickly passed. Ea gusa was soon left behind, and "poor Slavonia" crossed by the indefatigable traveler. Now he wan dered over green districts, Avhich Avere every day re plenished with fresh flowers, or where abundant har vests rose under the vivifying influence of warm rains and a soft, Italian climate ¦ — and again he toiled over rocky hills, exposed to the cold blasts of the Bora. At last he reached Gratz, in Styria, the residence of Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria. He was not long in search of friends. An Englishman and an Irish Jesuit, interested themselves in him, and brought him to the notice of several distinguished nobl-emen of the army. He became one of the staff of the Earl of Meldritch. The journeys of the Zincali could scarcely be more erratic than those of Smith, from the time he left France till he accomplished his object of joining the armies of Eodolph. It is impossible, in the limits of these pages, to fol low him in the various campaigns against the Turks. His ingenuity in devising signals and destructive fire- JOHN SMTIH. 257 works, uot less than his valor, occasioned his promo tion to the command of a company of horse. While the army of the EarJ of Meldritch, and the forces of Prince Moyses, were before the city of Eegall, pre paring to besiege it, the Turks, fully prepared for the exigency, continually sent messages of derision, and finally, a challenge to single combat, from Lord Tur bishaw. The Turkish ladies must have some amuse ment, before the Christians were routed, said the boastful Mohammedans. The challenge was accepted, and the enthusiasm was so great in the Christian ar my, to engage in the revival of ancient chivalry, that lots were cast for the honor. Captain Smith was the successful competitor. Upon the appointed day, the walls of Eegall were crowded with the beauties of the harem, and the of ficers of the Turkish legions. The army of the Chris tians was drawn up in battle array, on the plain, to witness the contest. Lord Turbishaw presented him self, in a gorgeous, jeweled dress, with silvered and gilded wings. Smith advanced, upon a spirited, well- trained steed, clad in armor, and, no doubt, richly plumed. A flourish of trumpets announced the on set ; the combatants sprang towards each other, and, in an instant. Lord Turbishaw was stretched dead upon the earth. Smith leaped from his saddle, unloosed the helmet of the Turk, cut off his head, presented it, amidst applause, to Prince Moyses, and retired in triumph to his own ranks. The Turks were incensed at the result, and a friend 17 258 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. of the vanquished, Grualgo, a powerful warrior, sent a second challenge. It; was promptly accepted, and again Smith appeared in the field, in presence of the two armies, fought, conquered, and added the head of Grualgo to his trophies. The Turks decided that the ladies had enjoyed enough of this brutal amuse ment, and desisted ; but a challenge came now from the Christian camp, and they felt bound, by the laws of chivalry, to accept it. Bonny Mulgro was the champion. His head against those of the two already slain, together with Smith's, was the stake. Bonny shared the fate of the others, and Smith retuiued a third time victorious. A splendid pageant, in his honor, a richly-furnished charger, a jewel-studded cimetar, a costly belt, and a patent of nobility, con ferred by the Prince of Transylvania, were the re wards of his bold feats. His coat of arms consisted of three Turks' heads upon a shield, with the motto, " Yinoere est vivere "¦ — " to conquer is to live." Not long after this. Smith was left among the slain, upon the field of battle. His rich armor readily at tracted attention, and, as he gave signs of life, he was taken prisoner by his conquerors, and Avas sold in the slave market of Axiopolis, to BashaAv Bogall, who sent him in chains, as a present, to one of the beau ties of his harem. Gharatza Tragabigzanda quickly became interested in her handsome and gallant slave ; as she was able to converse in Italian, she whiled away many an hour, in conversation with the accom plished Englisman. Her fondness of him was per .t:u:: :^a: ti:. 259 ceived by her luotuer. Fearing the consequences, Gharatza sent him a\vay, Avitli a letter, imploring for him the kindness of her brother, Timour Bashaw, Avhose residence Avas in Tartary. Smith's new mas ter proved fierce and tyrannical. A short duration of vilest slavery exhausted his patience. He killed his Tartar lord, seized his robes aud his fine char ger, fled across the desert, cleared the territories of the Musselmen, and safely reached a Eussian garri son, upon the river Don. Here the "Good Lady Callamanta" relieves his poverty, and the governor strikes off his irons, and gives him letters of introduction, and a convoy, for his protection, to Transylvania. In this district he meets Avith his old generals and companions, who welcome him, heap honors upon him, and bestoAV fif teen hundred ducats of gold, to repair his losses. With this sudden good fortune, he determines to re- iurn to England ; but it is impossible for him to be satisfied with a direct route, and, accordingly, his way to London leads him through the cities of Ger many, among the singing Tyrolese, over the Alps, through vine-clad France, to the wild passes of the Pyrenees, the bandit forests, and old inquisitorial cities of Spain. The novelty of these exhausted, he fancies he may find new adventures in distant Africa. Away he sails to the Barbary States, examines the monuments of Morocco, notes the characteristics of the country and people, and turns away indignant at their barbarism. The French captain of a man -of- 260 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. war here meets, and feels an extravagant admiration for Smith, takes him on board his vessel, and sets out upon one of the common piratical cruises of those times. Smith did not return to England till the year 1604. He was yet but twenty-five, though his life, thus far, had equaled in eventfulness the ordinary experience of an hundred years. With his roving habits, it was impossible for him to remain unoccupied in England. The colonization of America was, at this time, a sub ject of general interest. Smith had seen enough of Europe, Asia, and Africa ; the new continent was an attractive field, and offered the opportunity of more fearless adventure than he had already tested. He was easily enlisted in a project of renewing the unfortunate efforts of Ealeigh. A patent was obtained from James I. by Gosnold, Wingfield, Hunt and others, for the settlement of Virginia, and Avith this company. Smith sailed for America, December 19th, 1606. The colonists numbered one hundred and five — for ty-eight of them being gentlemen, the rest laborers and mechanics. Many were atheists ; few were mor ally strong ; none were possessed of the energy or decision of the soldierly Smith. Discontent, suspi cion, and jealousy, prevailed throughout the voyage. Smith was seized, upon an absurd charge of treason, and kept in close confinement till they arrived in the Bay of Chesapeake. There, the opening of the strono- box, in which the whimsical king had ordered the names of the council to be concealed, proclaimed JOHN SMITH. 261 Smith a member, but he was excluded till after a trial. He submitted patiently to all the indignities offered him, fully conscious of his siiperi ority over his persecutors, and the necessity of his able services to the colony. The site of JamestOAvn was selected. Trees were felled, a fort commenced, rude cabins erected, gardens laid out, and all the hardy occupations of an early settlement fairly in progress. It was now necessary for some one to explore the river upon whose banks they had alighted, to acquaint themselves with the inten tions of the neighboring Indians, and to obtain a sup ply of provisions. There were few among the colo nists sufficiently courageous for the undertaking, and, as Smith expected, he was designated, with a few others, to accompany Captain Newport. His con duct throughout thirteen weeks of confinement, and the six subsequent weeks of his cheerful assistance to the colony, won the confidence and esteem of the greater part of his enemies. Upon his retum from the expedition, a trial was granted him, in which he clearly proved himself innocent of the malicious charges of President Wingfield, — a weak, jealous- minded man, from whose inefficiency half the trou bles of the colony proceeded. Smith was finally placed at the head of affairs. All had confidence in his judgment and valor. Labor was briskly executed under his direction, discontent kept at bay Avhile he shared the fatigue of the settlers, and famine was averted, by his prompt dispatches to the 262 i«IS0OVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. Indians, Often, in his boatings up the river, or hi his forest ramblings, in quest of the Indian granaries, he found himself surrounded by savage bands, a mark for their merciless arrows. His fearlessness, on all oc casions, made him prominent among his companions, and the dusky chieftains soon learned to dread his name. Upon his return to the colony, he found it the scene of faction and conspiracy. His prompt measures never failed to quell the disturbance, and his fierce determination of countenance and manner, se cured peace so long as he remained, with ruling eye and voice, in the midst of the malcontents. Thus the summer and the autumn of the first year passed. The winter of 1607 was remarkably cold. But the severity of the weather did not deter Smith from an enterprise, to which the reproaches and complaints of his unruly colonists, seem to have urged him. They desired him to explore the Chickahominy to its sources, believing it would conduct them to the South Sea— the hoped-for achievement of the ambitious navigators of the day. Smith set out with a few men, and proceeded up the river as far as it Avas navigable for his barge. He then obtained an Indian canoe, with the services of two savages, and, selecting two of his bravest men, proceeded up the stream, unsus picious, or regardless of danger, till the Avay was impeded by fallen trees and overhanging bouo-hs. Wishing to see the nature of the country, and to dis cover the width of the stream at a higher point, he left the two Englishmen and one Indian in the canoe, JOHN SMITH. 263 and, with his single guide, plunged into the forest. The dead leaves rustled under their tread, and the wind swept through the bare trees, Avith the sound of a gale in the rigging of a thousand ships, or as if the boughs were hung with the rattling bones of skele tons. Suddenly a loud war-Avhoop swelled above all other sounds. Smith knew its import too well, though not a human being was in sight, except his dusky guide. Sure that he Avas betrayed, he seized the In dian and bound him fast to his own arm. An arrow whizzed thrpigh the air, and struck the hero captain, and now he perceived two savages peering at him with aimed shafts. In an instant, his Indian, used as a buckler, was interposed, his pistol discharged, and himself retreating backwards in the direction of his canoe, always keeping his captive an unwilling shield between himself and the gathering enemy. The war- cry echoed again through the woods, and soon a hun dred foes fiitted between the gray trunks, afraid to encounter his weapon, and uuAvilling to transfix his effective shield with arrows. Smith refused to yield, and still retreated. The warriors followed him, sure of their brave victim. Busy in his defense, he did not perceive the snare behind him. Another back ward step and he sank into a morass, from which he could not extricate himself. He surrendered, and Opechancanough and his warriors drew him forth and led him away a prisoner. Instant death was uot tc be awarded to the dexterous captive, in whom was 264 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. recognized the famed leader of Jamestown. His fate was to be decided by the emperor, Powhattan. The palace of this Indian sovereign was limitless. Nature was the unrivaled architect Tulip-trees formed its graceful arches ; giant pines its columns, wound with living, rather than sculptured ivy ; and the sky its faultless dome. The throne of Powhattan was a couch of mats ; his crown, plumes from the ea gle's wing ; his robe of fur, was as ample as a Eoman toga, and his jewels of state were " a rich chaine of great pearles." His presence had th|> true royal bearing. Smith describes it of " such majestic as he could not expresse, nor yet had often scene, either in Pagan or Christians." Two Indian beauties sat on either hand of the haughty emperor ; and " grim courtiers," helmeted with scalp-locks and gaudy feath ers, and armed with huge bows, and tufted arrows, surrounded the rude throne. Every one had assumed his choicest decorations, and his grandest demeanor, in expectation of the distinguished captive, whose ap proach had been heralded by runners. Opechancanough and his scouting party presently appeared with the victim, who had been feasted du ring his progress to the imperial residence, in prepa ration for expected sacrifice. A simultaneous shout arose from the waiting assemblage and the newly- arrived, as Smith was presented to the king. Princely honors were accorded him. The beautiful queen of Apamattuck brought water to bathe his hands, and a y-yung maiden offered a bunch of feathers to dry JOHN SMTl'H. 265 them. Others served him up a feast upon great plat ters. While he was thus entertained, the chieftains were in close counsel with Powhattan, as to the dis posal of this brave sachem of the whites. His death was decided upon. Two stones were immediately rolled into the area before the royal seat, and fierce- eyed executioners stood ready with their war-clubs. A dozen leaped forward Avith a savage yell, and dragged the prisoner towards the spot. Among the group near Powhattan, was a child of ten years, the " king's dearest daughter," Avatching with keen interest the preparations, which even to her unused eye, betokened death. She saw the brave stranger dragged forth and bound, and none to de fend him. Her sympathies were awakened ; her pulse quickened, and a glow of ardor suffused her face ; suspense, fear, pity, were in her attitude. The victim was ready, the blow about to descend. With the swift bound of the roe, the child sprang towards the prostrate form of Smith, threw her arms around him, and laid her head upon his. The noble impulse, the daring, the artless tenderness of the young girl, struck the savage assemblage Avith awe and admira tion. Powhattan was overcome, and his decree that Smith should live, was acceded to without a murmur from those who, though their eyes were whetted for the bloody scene, forgot their passion in amazement at the rescue. They appreciated the bold temper, if not the beautiful spirit, that impelled Pocahontas to the humane deed. L 266 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. Smith was detained for a few days, to gratify the curiosity of the Indians. He related his adventures, described the fleets upon the waters, the cities of the Old World, and the number and power of its inhabi tants. The savages could scarcely have comprehend ed the strength of European population, for, some time afterwards, one AV'as sent to England with orders to register, by a notch upon a stick, every person he met. Finding the census outreached his stick the first hour, he threw it aAvay, and, on his return to his people, said, " Count the stars in the sky, the leaves of the forest, and the sands of the sea shore — such is the number of the people of England." Smith was allowed to return to Jamestown, on con dition he would give Powhattan two cannon and a grind-stone — articles which had especially captiva ted the king's fancy. An escort of Indians accom panied him to the colony, and to these he offered the coveted guns and grind-stone. They endeavored in vain to shoulder the weighty gifts, and, Avhen Smith applied a torch to one of the loaded cannon, the poor Indians, terrified at the report, were glad to fly from the bewitched pieces, and return empty handed. Smith was greeted by the colonists as one risen from the dead. As had often been the case, he found the settlement in a factious and starving condition. And as he had often done before, he straightened affairs and procured abundant supplies from the Indians, Avho now regarded him as a superior being. The ar rival of Captain Newport, however, again produced JOHN SMITH. 267 discord. His search for gold dust provea unfortu nate to the colony, in various ways. His departure was not regretted. The spring of the next year was occupied in re building Jamestown, as it had been nearly destroyed by flre during the winter. Frequent excursions to Powhattan's dominions, or those of neighboring chief tains, occurred during the summer, and gifts and vis its were often received from the young Pocahontas, who, not forgetting her favorite, came to express her affection for the fatherly captain, and sometimes to avert evil from him and his. Not only the flckle pol icy of Powhattan, but the hostility of other chief tains, frequently endangered the existence of the set tlement — a catastrophe repeatedly averted either by the humanity of the faithful Pocahontas, or the vigi lant activity of Smith. He negotiated with the In dians, in their own spirit of cunning, and never scru pled to employ untruths when it suited his purpose. As from time to time, they discovered his deceptions, his superiority was lessened in their eyes, and they battled Avith him as they would with a brave warrior of their own race. He never, by his own upright dealing, awakened a sense of honor or justice, in the the mind of the savage — sentiments of which the humane Penn proved them capable. But Smith's courage and strength was such that he was generally feared. At one time, the natives were in the habit of entering the town, and possessing themselves of whatever articles struck their fancy. When the theft 268 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OP AMERICA. was discovered, they endured a beating with as much nonchalance as a Chinese beggar. One of them hap pened to meddle with some of the captain's weapons. He pounced upon them like an enraged tiger, drove them from the town, and sent them flying over the hills in fright. If he ever had occasion to doubt the good faith of a party of Indians, he would dash into their midst with the same fierceness, seize their chief tain by his scalp-lock, drag him to his own men and parley with the astounded savages, while he had their sachem in his power. So great was their fear of him that Powhattan, in a speech full of reproach at the attempts of the English to obtain " by force, that which they might quickly have by love," confessed that even at the sound of a breaking twig, his people cried out, " There cometh Captain Smith ! " Upon the return of Captain NcAvport from Eng land, the distrust of Powhattan increased. He had brought with him a croAvn, a cloak, and a royal couch, for the forest monarch, but the receiver, so far from showing pleasure at the gifts, feared to wrap his swarthy form in the scarlet cloak, and would not qui etly submit to a coronation, which he believed beto kened evil. Captain Newport only succeeded in dropping the kingly circle upon his brows, when four soldiers had forced the proud chieftain to bend the knee. The lavish bestowal of- articles which, previ ously held at high A^alue, had secured an abundant exchange of grain to the colonists, was a source of much trouble to them. Smith expostulated with the JOHN SMITH. 269 new comers, and, as he expected, great difficulty was experienced in obtaining supplies for the retuming voyage, as well as for the present need of the en larged colony. The infatuated Newport did not gain what he de sired by his presents — the friendship and assistance of Powhattan. He was fully bent upon seeking gold, and, with one hundred and twenty of his men, searched the wilderness, while Smith, now President of Jamestown, proceeded, with ninety men, to load the vessel, that it might be in readiness at Newport's return. Many of the new comers were gentlemen — '¦ " younger sons " of the nobility, and, of course, un used to the labor of backwoodsmen. These, Smith conducted to the woods, placed implements in their hands, and taught them the art of felling trees, ma king clap-boards, and how to endure a hardy life. They began with a good will, since Smith wielded his axe Avith the rest; but a few strokes blistered the fair hands of the amateur wood-cutters, and " many times every third blow had a loud othe to drowne the echo." To prevent the use of language which never sullied his own lips. Smith caused an effectual pun ishment. For every oath uttered during the day, a can of cold water was poured down the sleeve of the offender. A week sufficed to check the profanity. When Newport retumed unsuccessful from his expe dition, he . found the vessel loaded and provided for his departure, through the untiring exertions, and skinful supervision of Captain Smith. 270 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. After this, several occurrences contributed to estab lish peace between Powhattan and the English. An Indian had apparently died from the ignorant use of charcoal. By simple methods, Smith restored him to life, to the surprise of the savages, who believed him gifted with a miraculous power. Other circumstan ces, trifling in themselves, served to inspire the na tives with awe. Many stolen articles were returned, and Powhattan entreated peace. For a long time succeeding, the colony flourished to an unusual degree. Under Smith's vigorous direction, twenty new houses were built, the church repaired, two block-houses erected, and the live stock greatly increased and im proved by care. Provisions were abundant, and the Indians punctually and cheerfully assisted them, in structing the English how to prepare and plant their fields. But this happy peace and prosperity was in terrupted by the arrival of a large fleet from England, which brought nine hundred persons. Most of them were profligate and inefficient men, under the juris diction of several noblemen, who had engaged in the enterprise. NoAvport had misrepresented Smith to the authorities in England, and he found supporters of his ungenerous charges, in the factious persons whom the president had dismissed from the colony. Their arrival was the signal for discord and misfor tune. Smith battled manfully with the difficulties that daily presented themselves. But his patience was exhausted, and he began to think of abandoning the colony or at least meditated a return to England, JOHN SMTIH. 271 for a time, to urge upon his countrymen the necessity of selecting hardy, persevering men, and adopting measures unbiased by jealousy or deceit, to secure the establishment of a flourishing republic. His pur pose was quickened by an accident, which nearly proved fatal to his life. While passing in his boat down the river, towards Jamestown, a bag of gun powder exploded, and frightfully mangled and la cerated the person of Smith. He threw himself into the Avater, in the delirium of pain, and was bare ly saved from drowning. No surgeon in Jamestown was skillful enough to heal his wounds ; he found it necessary to embark for England. In the autumn of 1609, he sailed from Virginia, never to hail its shores again. After his return to his native land, several years were pleasantly spent in retirement and literary labors. He published a map of Virginia, in 1612, together with a " description of the country, the com modities, people, government, and religion." Verse- making was also among his occupations. In 1614, he engaged in an enterprise, which had for its object, the seeking of gold and copper mines in New England, in addition to whale-fishery. He had two ships in the service, and was absent six months. The next year, he attempted a second expedition with but one vessel. Misfortune attended him from the outset. He was successively chased by three pirate ships, and finally by a French man-of-war, which overcame his insignificant bark. He was taken prisoner, and re- 2(2 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. mained such for six months, when, on a stormy night, he possessed himself of the ship's boat, and, without an oar to guide it, committed himself to the wide waste of stormy waters. He was providentially cast upon an island, where he was soon picked up. The ship he abandoned was wrecked, and the captain and half of the crew were lost. Smith succeeded in reach ing France. The sympathy of some of his country men there, and the assistance of a French lady, Mad ame Chanois, enabled him to return to England. In 1616, Captain Smith was preparing for a third voyage to New England. A lively interest in the New World was occasioned, at this time, by the arri val of the beautiful and famed Pocahontas. Her pre sentation at court, her novel style of beauty, her art less manner, and the noble heart that was known to exist beneath her gentle exterior, were themes for every lip. The tidings of her coming reached Cap tain Smith, and he immediately went to welcome her. The sight of him was a surprise to the young princess, for she had been made to believe that he was dead. But, with true Indian stoicism, she gave " a modest salutation," and, perhaps grieved at the reserved manner of him who owed his life to her, and who knew she revered him above all others of his race, she turned away, hid her face and remained in silence. She could not comprehend the injunction of the king, that every one. Smith included, should approach her with a distant deference to her Indian royalty. She was disappointed at the seemingly cold JOHN SMITH. 273 greeting of the captain. The remembrances, too, that his face called up — the grand, wild forest, where she could wander at will ; her doting father, her compan ions, her Avigwam-home, and the young braves, who were -swift to do her bidding — all floated before her memory ; and perhaps it was these overpowering recollections, as well as the presence of one loved from childhood, that made her shroud her face from the gaze of strangers, and remain in mute grief for hours. She died among the pale-faces. The broad sunlight of civilization wilted the wild flower that had blossomed in the shade of Virginian forests. The year succeeding this event, 1622, was remark able, in New World annals, for the massacre at JamestoAvn. Captain Smith, excited and nerved for new efforts, endeavored to enlist others in an attempt to restore the settlement. He could not remain inac tive, and behold the town, which had risen from the wilderness by his own unceasing diligence, abandoned to the pillage of savages, and the desolation of time. But all that he had done for Virginia, all that he had suffered in her serAdce, all that he had written fbr the furtherance of that plantation, was of no avail. Changes came round with every yeai^ The interests of the American colony passed into new hands. The services of Smith were forgotten. He could obtain no appointment, nor did he receive any reward, though in poverty ; yet, for nine years he continued to write and publish works concerning the New L* 18 2(4 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. World, and interested himself in every movement for its colonization. He died in 1631, in his flfty-second year, disap pointed, but not subdued. His sagacity, his fierce will, his quick perceptions, his executive mind, should have crowned his declining years with success ; but his several desperado qualities, and the lack of stabil ity and of Christian spirit, made his old age and his memory as mournful as the broken, ivy-mantled tower, which is all that remains of the city which he found ed — a bold and picturesque ruin. VII. MILES STANDISH. Captain Miles Standish was called the hero oi New England, by one of the earlier colonial histo rians. His relation to Plymouth and the Pilgrims, has been compared with that of Captain John Smith to the land of the cavaliers — Virginia. And cer tainly, though he may not have left a name for greater moral heroism and loftier qualities of mind than many of his fellow-Pilgrims, yet his character and deeds more readily engage the imagination. While no one of the many noble settlers at Plymouth was very emi nent above the rest, Standish was peculiar, in his po sition and his traits. At first glance, it Is hard to explain his connection with them. Descended from a family in whose veins coursed noble and martial blood, trained to military service in England and Holland, distinguished somewhat for his brave con duct in the latter country, and with a fair prospect of promotion before him, he seems to have suddenly abandoned an alluring career, in order to attach him self to a poor and persecuted band of religionists. "What were his real motives, and what his part, in 276 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. laying the foundation of our civil and religious free dom, must be gathered from the imperfect records of his life. The earliest mention of his family, is during the reign of Henry VIH., when it was represented by Henry Standish, a bigoted Franciscan bishop, and a Cambridge Doctor of Divinity. In Queen Mary's time, the bishop's nephew -violently opposed the trans lation of the Bible into the English language. After an interval of many years, and during the life of Cap tain Standish, Sir Eichard is mentioned ; also, the village of Standish, and Standish Hall, in Lancashire. In 1707, Sir Thomas lived at Duxbury, the name of the family seat in Lancashire, and as Captain Stand ish was one of the first settlers of Duxbury in Massa chusetts, it is reasonable to presume the former to have been his English home, and that the new town was named in remembrance of his early associations. The first exercise of his military talents, was in the Netherlands, in a war in behalf of the Dutch — the same in which Ealeigh was engaged. Upon the set tlement of a treaty. Captain Standish remained at Leyden, with the Pilgrims. Amsterdam had been their first resting place. A portion of the original church had preceded them, and, for a time, existed harmoniously under the rule of grave and godly eld ers, and the quaint superintendence of an aged dea coness, who, seated upon a bench of state, and sway ing a birchen scepter, kept the unruly urchins of the congregation in awe ; but this simplicity and harmo- MILES STANDISH. 277 ny presently gave place to a quarrelsome, mad spirit. Among them were " some unreasonable, if not wick ed men, given to oppositions of self-will and vain janglings about mint, anise, and cummin, how many ribbons a woman should wear upon her bonnet and other like things." The strife was carried so far against the pastor's wife, for wearing corked shoes, and whalebones in the bodice and sleeves of her dress, such as were then worn by citizens of rank with whom she had been accustomed to associate, that, although she was an exemplary and " godly matron," and submitted to their prejudices so far as to alter her garments as much as possible without al together spoiling them, yet they would not accord peace to her, to themselves, nor any one concerned. Several excommunications resulted, which only served to heighten the disturbance. It was in the midst of this war of words, that Eob- inson and his devoted band arrived, fresh from the persecutions of England, hoping to find rest, and yearning for kindness and brotherly love. But one year's stay convinced them of the unhappy influence of narrow-minded bickerings ; and, although Amster dam was best suited to their worldly prosperity, they decided to remove to Leyden, valuing peace and spir itual comfort above every thing else. The witness ing of those contentions, without being a party to them, left a lasting and salutary impression upon the tninds of the Pilgrims. It was a lesson to which 278 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. they owed much of the forbearance afterwards exer cised toAvards each other, and towards the world. At Leyden, they soon felt the approach of poverty ; for, having been farmers in England, they were ill-pre pared to gain a livelihood among the mechanics of Leyden. " Brewster became a printer ; Bradford learned the art of dyeing silk," and, in time, by "be ing careful to keep their word, and painful and dili gent in their callings," this faithful band acquired " a comfortable condition, grew in the gifts and grace of the spirit of God, and lived together in peace and love and holiness." So entirely harmonious were they, that the magistrates of the city publicly noted the fact that, during the eleven years of their stay, not an accusation had been brought against them. All Holland loved and admired them. It is not wonderful that one, coming from the vio lence, the debauchery, of war, and the infidelity and blasphemy common among soldiery, should be struck with the beauty and simplicity of the Pilgrims' creed, and the sincerity in which they held it. It was so with Standish. Integrity was one of his chief vir tues, else he could hardly have been attracted to the upright brotherhood. And, once attracted to them, his generous nature could not withhold its sympathy for their sufferings and povertv nor could he witness their cheerful endurance without admiration and love, or behold their daily, unostentatious faith in Christ, without reverencing their religion, and their God. He did not unite with their church, but he was so MILES STANDISH. 279 won by " their humble zeal and fervent love towards God and his ways, and their single-heartedness and sincere affection, one towards another," that, whatev er had been the ambition of his youth, he abandoned it, and cast his lot with his exiled countrymen. To the worldling, his choice of sojourn with the Pilgrims is unaccountable ; to the Christian, it is a beautiful ordering of Providence, giving thus to the chosen people of God, a leader whose qualities emi nently fitted him to become their champion in the dangers of the wilderness. Possessing remarkable energy and decision of character, and accustomed, as no other one among the Pilgrims was, to the usages of war, he was a " host within himself; " and, though full of martial spirit, his fine appreciation of their principles never arrayed him against themselves. He had reached the maturity and stability of manhood before he became one of the persecuted band. He was short, and thick-set, in person, but carried an air of promptness, activity, and of command, that enforced obedience. 'Although qualified to become the milita ry leader of the future colony, he joined them with no such ambition, for they voyaged with more of the talismans of peace than the weapons of war. Stand ish was necessary, in the hands of God, to the preser vation of the New England colony. Thus, uncon sciously, he was under the guidance of the Almighty in his choice. The emigration of the Pilgrims to America, Avas long a subject of discussion and prayer. They had •280 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. never become familiar with the language and man ners of the Dutch. The general desecration of the Sabbath was painful to them, and they feared the effects of such example upon their children ; for the islanded city, with its wide streets, lively with prom- enaders, and its intersecting canals, bordered with trees, and spanned by innumerable and beautiful bridges, had a peculiar temptation, on a sunny Sab bath, to the pent-up, laboring children of the Pilgrims, who, " sharing their parents' burdens, bowed under the weight, and were becoming decrepit in early youth." They were longing, too, to live again under the government of their land. America was chosen ; but where, upon its broad expanse, to select an ad vantageous home, was long the subject of dis-cussion and negotiation. The West Indies and Guiana were talked of. The Dutch offered their newly discovered possessions on the Hudson ; the London Company proposed South Virginia, and the merchant adventu rers, North Virginia, which included the whole of New England. The last was accepted, the others ha ving failed to obtain a charter from King James, for liberty of conscience. The Pilgrims determined to cast themselves upon Providence, and consented to depart without a patent, leaving agents to obtain it from the Company, whether freedom of worship Avas accorded by the King, or not. Two ships, the Speedwell, of sixty tons, and the May Flower, of one hundred and eighty tons, were prepared for the embarkation, but could not accom MILES STANDISH. 281 modate more than half of the congregation, which had greatly increased in numbers since their removal from England. Eobinson remained with the majori ty of his flock, while Brewster, already numbering nearly sixty years, and who was " able as a teacher," was chosen to accompany the youngest and the hard iest who were ready to undertake the hardships of the first settlement. " When the ship was ready to go," says Winslow's journal, " the brethren that stayed at Leyden, having again sought the Lord with us, and for us, feasted jis that were to go, at our pastor's house, it being large, where we refreshed ourselves, after tears, with sing ing of psalms, making joyful melody in our hearts, as well as with the voice, there being many of the congregation very expert in music ; and, indeed, it was the sweetest music that ever mine ears heard. After this, they accompanied us to Delft-Haven, where we went to embark, and then feasted us again ; and after prayer, performed by our pastor, when a flood of tears was poured out, they accompanied us to the ship, but were not able to speak one to another for the abundance of sorrow to part. But we only, going aboard, gave them a volley of small shot and three pieces of ordnance ; and so, lifting up our hands to each other, and our hearts for each other, to the Lord our God, we departed." In a fortnight, they reached Southampton, and then sailed for America. They were obliged to return to Dartmouth for repairs, which detained them anothei 282 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. week. Again they set sail, and again retumed, the captain of the Speedwell declaring she was not flt for the voyage. Those who had embarked in her, were crowded into the May Flower, and they now bade a last adieu to England, beginning the perilous and lonely voyage on the sixth of September, 1620. Tho generous and zealous Carver, the unobtrusive, virtu ous Winslow, Brewster with his strong fortitude and fervent prayers, Bradford with his moderation and wisdom, the discreet AUerton, and the bold, saga cious, whole-souled Standish, with the no less courage ous numbers of young men, full of zeal and energy, and their pious matrons, and young wives, ready to endure untold sufferings, were together breasting the fierce storms of the Atlantic, in one little bark, "freighted with the destinies of a continent." Through all the voyage, they cheered and consoled each other, always looking to God with the same un doubting trust with which a tender child turns to its father, in danger. The frosty, cold, November days had come, before the Pilgrims had the first glimpse of their western home. They espied land on the ninth of the month, aud, as they neared it, were consoled to find it " wood ed to the brinke of the sea." They judged rightly that they beheld Cape Cod, with its circling bay " compassed about to the very sea with okes, pines, juniper, sassafras, and other sweet wood." The coast in the vicinity of Hudson Eiver, was their intended landing-place, but their captain, probably by conni MILES STANDISH. 283 vance, brought them upon the more bleak and uninvi ting shores of New England ; happily, as it proved, for the whole region, as if by a special preparation of Providence, had been ^ately swept of its savage pop ulation, by a fearful pestilence. There was no clus tering of natives upon the shore, to greet or to repel them. Yet, they hesitated to land, for, as they round ed the bay, not an inviting spot presented itself for landing or for shelter. At length thfey anchored in Plymouth harbor. Dr. Cheever describes it, at high tide, as a "magnificent bay, studded with islands, and opening proudly into the ocean ; but, at low tide, an immense extent of muddy, salt-grassed, and sea- weeded shallows, with a narrow stream winding its way among them to find the sea." The Pilgrims looked with doubt upon the prospect before them, but the impatience of the captain to land them, and has ten back to England, gave them no choice. Sixteen men, cased in coats of mail, and armed with musket and sword, were placed under the con duct of Captain Standish, with a council of three, to reconnoitre the coast. The shallop being out of re pair, they were forced to wade through the icy shal lows, for three quarters of a mile, before reaching land. And there it was desolate enough, with the Bharp, cold wind sweeping and moaning among the tattered foliage, that still clung to the dry, rattling oranches ; before them was the open wood, with here and there an Indian trail, but no human being in sight ; behind them the broad, cold bay, gloomy un- 284 DISCOVERERS AKD PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. der a leaden November sky, and rocking upon its bo som the single treasure that still linked them to " dear England." With stout hearts and a good will, they formed in single file, and marched along the sea-coast, till, at tracted by a glimpse of five or six Indians, flitting through the woods, they turned into the forest, hoping to overtake them. All day they traveled, but not a sign of habitation was yet discovered, nor had they sight of the natives. At night they slumbered around a camp-fire, guarded by three sentinels. As soon as they could again perceive the trail, they resumed their march, yet could neither find the Indians and their homes, nor the food or fresh water which they greatly needed. After struggling through " boughes and bushes, and under hills and valleys," says the journal of the Pilgrims, " which tore our very armour in pee- ces, . . we came into a deepe valley, full of brush, wood-gaile, and long grasse, through which we found little paths, or tracks, and there we saw a deere, and found springs of fresh water, of which we were heart ily glad, and sat us downe and drunke our first New- England water, with as much delight as ever we drunke drinke in all our lives." Wandering farther, they found mounds of buried corn in baskets, an iron kettle, the remains of a fort, and, near the shore, two canoes. When the mounds were opened, and the corn exposed to their glad eyes, they gathered around, full of curiosity, but hesitated to possess themselves of it. With pious honesty they MILES STANDISH. 285 counseled with each other. BelieAring they wronged no one, they decided to take it, promising themselves to repay the owners, when they could be found. This intention they faithfully fulfilled afterAvards. The in tegrity of the act, must have impressed the natives more forcibly than a thousand exhortations could have done. Bearing with them as much corn as the weight of their armor would permit, they turned sea ward by a different route. In their wanderings, they came to a young sapling " bowed downe over a bow, and some acorns strewn underneath." Some per ceived its use, but William Bradford came up from the rear, and, impelled by curiosity, walked around it, and finally quite near, when it gave a " sudden jerk up, and caught him by the leg," to the chagrin of the entrapped, and the merriment of the rest of the party. The same day they returned to the ship. The snow, and sleet, and frost of December had come, before a harbor and a desirable site had been selected. Exploring parties, under the sturdy Cap tain Standish, had frequently gone ashore. They of ten searched for corn in the many mounds that swelled under the snow, but graves, graves, nothing but graves, with embalmed bodies, and their heathen decorations, rewarded their efforts, and these they carefully replaced, or left untouched, unwilling to disturb the repose of the dead, or the superstitious reverence of the living. No sight of the natives had been obtained until, one morning, at early dawn, while they sat around their camp-fire, regaling them- 286 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. selves with a simple meal, a shower of arrows fell around them, and a frightful yell sounded in their ears. Springing to arms, they aimed as well as they could at the lurking savages, whose glistening eyes here and there peered out, like the fiaming eyes of wild beasts, from behind the sheltering trunks of the forest trees. The unprepared Pilgrims presented a fair mark, standing as they did in the broad fire-light, and without the protection of their armor. Yet not one was wounded in the skirmish, while several of the Indians were killed. It was a remarkable pre servation — a protection which they had invoked from the Almighty scarcely an hour before, according to their invariable custom. Prayer was the first duty of the morning, no matter what the pressing labor. Whether in the croAvded cabin of the MayfloAver, or in the open forest ; whether in the exposed shallop, or by the camp-fire'; whether the morning broke mild and cheering, or the hail pelted, the rain chilled, or the snow blinded and benumbed them, they yet yield ed their morning prayers, like daily incense, to God, never doubting the acceptance of the sacrifice. The Sabbath was as faithfully kept. Though the advancing season, the severity of the climate, the importunity of the captain, and the discomfort of the narroAV and unhealthy quarters on ship-board, de manded a speedy settlement, not a Sdbbath was des ecrated by labor. On the tenth of December, Cap tain Standish, Avith a number of hardy explorers, en tered Plymouth harbor, after coasting several miles MILES STANDISH. 287 in a rough sea, and through blinding sleet. As night approached, the storm increased, the boat was disa bled, and they were in danger of being dashed against an island in the bay, " compassed about with many rocks." They at last effected a safe landing, but drip ping with the rain and salt spray, shivering with cold, and not knowing but they might receive a greeting of arrows. All night they kept watch, and the next morning explored the island, and found themselves its sole possessors. They remained still another day, and that was the Sabbath — the first kept by the Pilgrims on the soil of the New World. Houseless and com fortless, with no sanctuary but the gray woods, hung with icicles, these men, strong in endurance, and firm in faith as the rocks they trod, " children in obedi ence " and gentleness, rested the seventh day and hallowed it. " Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea 1 And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free." On Monday, the eleventh of December, the pio neers landed on Plymouth rock. In a few days, the May Flower was anchored in the bay, a mile and a half from the shore, and those who were able to la bor, went on shore to gather timber, and to build their store-house, barricades, plant their ordnance, and erect the little row of houses on each side of the newly laid-out street, named for the " pleasant and '288 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. goodly city " of Leyden. The Avork progressed slowly, for death Avas fast winnowing out their numbers. Obliged, as they had been, to wade from the ship to shore, and continually exposed to the wintry storms, rapid and mortal disease fastened upon them. Suf fering from the hectic cough and wasting fever of consumption, they still labored on manfully, during the driving storm, as well as in the sunshine, welcome enough with its vivifying light, but scarcely less fa tal than the piercing Avind, when it left every tree a fountain of water-drops, and innumerable rivulets coursing every way over the paths of the laborers. The two rows of houses, with their thatched roofs and windows of oil-soaked paper, were at length com pleted, insignificant in themselves, but palaces to the sick and unsheltered Pilgrims. They were safely nestled in the shadow of the " great hill," now called Burial Hill, upon which a fort was erected, which served, also, as the " meeting-house." Below them was the first terrace where their dead were laid in unmarked graves, for even the mounds were leveled, to hide the fact of their diminishing force, from the eyes of lurking Indians. They had reason to fear the savages. The exploit of Hunt, in carrying off twenty Indians into slavery, a year or two previous, had ex asperated them against the English, and their con cealed and suspicious movements indicated a spirit of revenge. Often their infuriated yell resounded in the forest, awakening fresh anxiety in the hearts of tho feeble colony, and, as often, Captain Standish, with a MILES STANDISH. 289 few of the boldest spirits, scoured the woods for miles around, to know the extent of the danger, but inva riably returned without discovering the foe. Had the spirits of the dead hosts come back to their old hunt ing ground, they could not more successfully have flitted to and fro, and vanished with more unearthly screams, than did the tormentors of the Pilgrim settlers. The peril, toil, and suffering of the colonists, were rendered more painful by the depressing loss of nearly half their number. Yet these bereavements were scarcely chronicled by the Pilgrims. Every other event was noticed in the journal. Governor Bradford's register alone contained the mournfhl list ; and " it was like a book of sad engravings from a forest of tomb-stones." Eight deaths were recorded in January; the last reads thus: — "Jan. 29. Dies Hose, the wife of Captain Standish." She is said to have been the first person who was debarked from the May Flower. The Journal says only, against the same date, " In the morning, cold frost and sleete, but after, reasonable fayre ; both the long Boate and the Shallop brought our common goods on shore." Thus death went and came without disturbing the routine of labor, however heavy the weight of grief To the frank, loving, and noble-hearted Standish, it must have been a poignant sorrow, the deeper because of the knowledge that the comforts of life Avere Avant- ing, and that his companion was often deprived of his presence, when she longed for his soothing voico M 10 290 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. in the midst of the din of the dark, crowded cabin. Neither, probably, had he the Christian's support which imparted unflinching fortitude to his fellow- sufferers. He must go and bury his dead, almost alone, and leave no mound to mark her resting-place — and no record to the world, but the simple sen tence — " Dies Eose, the wife of Captain Standish." " The only relic of the wife and mother " that re mains to us, says a writer, " is that piece of needle work by the daughter, preserved among the curiosi- osities of Pilgrim Hall." Early in February, a fresh alarm from the Indians decided the colonists to adopt some methodical action for greater security. They accordingly assembled on the seventeenth, to establish military orders. Standish was elected captain, with the authority to command in all affrays. While engaged in organi zing this first militia company, their attention was at tracted by tAvo savages, standing conspicuously upon a hill-top, and making signs for the white men to meet them. Captain Standish, accompanied by Stephen Hopkins, went tOAvards them, laying doAvn their mus kets in sign of peace ; but they had scarcely reached the foot of the hill before the frightened natives fled. Nothing further was seen of them, although the sounds from behind the hill indicated the presence of many more. The sixteenth of March, the colonists again assem bled to complete their military organization. While thu-S engaged, a sudden alarm brought the whole of MILES STANDISH. 291 the little population to their doors, and caused no lit tle agitation among the half-formed militia. A tall, straight savage, of bold carriage, wearing only a leathern girdle, edged with broad, falling fringe, and armed with the great Indian bow and headed arrows, stalked up the narrow street, directly toAvards the " Eendezvous," without a motion of fear. He was the first native the Pilgrims had seen within speaking distance ; and we can readily imagine the anxiety with which the staid matrons looked out from the door-ways of their thatched domicils, half shrinking with fear, yet held by curiosity ; the little round fa ces, full of terror, eagerly thrust out from the crowd of gowns, to catch a glimpse of the "bug-a-boo"man of the woods ; and the busy colonists, taken aback by the sudden apparition of the fearless intruder, finally following him up the street, and arresting his progress towards their store-house. " Welcome ! " Avas the manly salute of the savage, when the English intercepted and gathered round him. He freely communicated to them all he knew of the surrounding tribes, being able to speak broken English, from his frequent contact with fishermen, who for years had touched upon the coast He re turned to his tribe the next day. Soon after, and upon the Sabbath, he came again, with " five other tall, proper men," as the Journal says, who wore man tles of deer or wild-cat skin, their heads being dressed with feathers, worn fan-shape, or decorated Avith dan gling fox-tails. They brought skins for traffic, but 292 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. the colonists refused to barter with them, it being the Sabbath. After they Avere kindly entertained, they returned to their tribe of Massasoits. A happy understanding soon followed. While the men of the colony were assembled on public business, Samoset and Squanto came among them, and endeav ored to signify the wish of Massasoit to parley with them. Massasoit himself finally appeared upon an overlooking hill, with his chieftain brother aud all his warriors. A brook glided at the foot of the hill, and there Captain Standish, with half a dozen chosen musketeers, met the friendly overtures of the Indian king. Massasoit was conducted to a house nearly finished, and given a seat of honor beside the Gov emor, upon a green rug, and a few cushions. He was a tall, well-made man, grave and silent ; and differed from his followers only in wearing a heavy, white bone necklace, Avith a pouch of tobacco hanging at the back of his neck. He Avas entertained Avith the best the poor colonists had to offer ; but, in spite of his gracious recej)tion, he trembled like a leaf, while in such close proximity to the govemor. This inter view resulted in a long-kept treaty, and was followed by frequent exchanges of friendly visits and services. Soon after this league, one of Massasoit's sachems and a few disaffected ones, threatened to unite with the Narragansets, against the English. It was ru mored that he had killed Tisquantum, who was called " the tongue of the English," as he was their princi pal interpreter. To rescue him, if he yet Uved, and MILES STANDISH. 293 to ascertain what had occurred to Massasoit, who, ac cording to report, was in the power of his enemies, a company of ten men Avas selected by Captain Stan dish and marched to the neighborhood of the rebel sachem. They concealed themselves till midnight, and then surrounded the house of the chieftain. A fcAv entered and demanded Coubitant, the rebel and supposed murderer, to be delivered to them, promis ing none other should be harmed, and endeavoring to calm the fears of the women and children. The Indians were dumb with fear, and attempted to es cape. They were retained until the house was searched, but Coubitant Avas not to be found. Tis quantum was shown unharmed, and in the morning the colonists returned, after assuring the savages that if Coubitant and his men should continue theii threats, or not permit Massasoit's safe restoration to his domains, " there was no place should secure him and his from revenge and overthrow." Coubitant was intimidated and soon signed a treaty of peace. He was equally impelled to seek peace with the En glish because of an assurance from Squanto, that they had the plague buried in the store-house, and could send it among the Indians whenever they chose. He had seen the gunpowder buried there. While Standish engaged, from time to time, in bold exploits, which made his very name a terror among the Indians, he did not forget a gentler tenor of life, but wooed another wife to his cheerful fireside. It is arcusingly related of him, that his affections were 294 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. gained by a daughter of William MuUins, named Priscilla, but that he was unwilling to make the ne cessary proposal, and deputed his friend, John Alden, to make the dreaded overtures. "The messenger, though a Pilgrim, was young and comely, and the lady, with perfect naivete, expressed her preference by the question, ' ' Prithee, John, why do you not speak for your self? ' The captain's hopes were blasted, and the frank proceeding soon ended in the marriage of John Al den and Priscilla Mullins." Whether Captain Stan dish forgave this usurpation or not, he consoled him self soon afterAvards by marrying a lady whose name, other than Barbara, is not given, and who had lately arrived in the ship Ann. This marriage occurred within two years after the death of Eose, as in the assignment of lands in 1623, the name of Mrs. Stan dish is on the list. In 1622, the fortifications of Plymouth were com pleted, and a militia company completely organized. The fort, which also served as a place of worship, was built upon a hill that overlooked the town and the harbor, with its wooded and rocky islands, and the range of dark pine forest ridging up from the sea on the south-east. The fort and its Sabbath uses, are Avell described in a letter (found in the archives of the Llague) by one who was at Plymouth in 1627. " The fort," says the letter, " is a large, square house, with a flat roof, made of thick, sawn planks, stayed Avith MILES STANDISH. 295 oak beams, upon the top of which they have six can nons, which shoot iron balls of four or five pounds, aud command the surrounding country. The loAver part they use for their church, Avhere they preach on Sundays, and the usual holidays. They assemble by beat of drum, each with his musket or firelock, in front of the captain's door ; they have their cloaks on, and place themselves in order, three abreast, and are led by a sergeant, without beat of drum. Behind comes the governor, in a long robe ; beside him, on the right hand, comes the preacher with his cloak on, and on the left hand the captain, with his side-arms, and cloak on, and with a small cane in his hand — and so they march in good order, and each sets his arms down near him. Thus they are on their guard, night and day." In the spring of 1623, Standish was engaged in a trading voyage near Barnstable. While in the har bor, a violent storm obliged him and his party to take shelter in the huts of the savages. The suspicious movements of the latter induced him to keep watch, permitting only part of his men to rest at once. In the morning, several things were ascertained to have been stolen from the shallop. With his usual resolu tion and promptness, Standish immediately surround ed sachem lanough's house with his force of six men, and demanded restitution. The articles were re stored, and the English continued their traffic without further molestation. By exercising this fearlessness and decision, in his intercourse with the Indians, 296 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OP AMEEICA. Standish secured their submission, and kept them ir awe ; but even such a course would have failed to save the colonists, had they not at the same time ex hibited a strict integrity and Christian forbearance. The savages instinctively felt this superiority of the Pilgrims. Their intercourse, hoAvever, with the un principled and reckless colony at Weymouth, lately established there by Weston, served to create a deep hostility towards every pale-face on their shores. Their plot of extirpating the English, by uniting all the tribes of Massachusetts Bay against them, was upon the point of execution when discovered to the Plymouth colony. The kindness and soothing atten tions of the good and brave Edward Winslow, sent by the Pilgrim settlers to visit Massasoit in his sick ness, won the gratitude, and warmed the heart of the rude savage, and turned him from his purpose of sanc tioning the massacre. " Now I see the English are my friends, and love me," said he, when WinsloAV left him. " While I live, I will never forget this kind ness they have shown me." Habbamock, the Indian guide and friend of the settlers, was with Winslow. Massasoit called him and revealed the plot, secretly bidding him to warn the Pilgrims. With what hasty steps the good Winslow, and the faithful guide, trav ersed the forest, and how gladly they beheld the little village, with its peaceful aspect ! What commotion in the assembled court, when the two entered with the tidings ! It was the yearly court-day, tho twen ty-third of March, 1623, and the colonists wert ready MILES STANDISH. 297 to discuss prompt measures. It was decided " that Captain Standish should take as many men as he thought sufficient to make his party good against all the Indians in the Massachusetts Bay ; and because it was impossible to deal with them in open defiance, to take them in such traps as they lay for others." He was ordered, also, to bring back the head of Wit- tuwamat, a " bold and bloody villain," who was one of the chief conspirators. Standish selected eight men, aud Avcnt first to Wes ton's colony, to ascertain the certainty of the Indians' hostility. A few came to trade with him, and dis covered " by his eyes that he was angry in his heart." Others came and whetted their knives before his face. Wittuwamat bragged of the excellence of his knife, saying, ^^ By-and-by it should see, by-and-by it should eat, but not spedkP Another giant savage looked con temptuously upon Standish, telling him, "Though you are a great captain, yet you are but a little man ; though I be no sachem, 1 am a man of great strength and courage." The hot-tempered captain bore it with patience then, but the next day half a dozen of the most hostile Indians, including Wittuwamat and the hostile giant, were accidentally shut in the room with Standish and his eight men. Standish "gave the word to his men," and instantly the parties were struggling, hand to hand, with their deadly knives. Standish, probably not Avithout a feeling of revenge for the sneer of yesterday upon his stature, himself gave the powerful Indian his death-stroke. The rest M* 298 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. killed Wlttuwamut and another man, and a third was hung. The party of Indians in the neighborhood were put to fiight, after a short skirmish, and the col onists returned to Weston's people unharmed. Hab bamock exulted over the victory, smiling, as he said to Captain Standish, " Yesterday Pecksnot bragged of his own strength and stature, . . to-day you are big enough tc lay him on the ground." Corn was distributed among the famishing colo nists of Weymouth, though it took from the seed-corn of the Pilgrims, and many of them were received into the shallop and conveyed to Plymouth. Thus good was retumed for the evil they had rendered to their neighbors. The head of Wittuwamut was conveyed to Plymouth, and set up on the fort. The whole transaction, though often a matter of censure, was conducted with such decision, soldierly intrepidity, and exact obedience to orders, that it inspired the In dians with terror for the very name of Standish, and at once checked every hostile movement. However revolting or murderous seemed the act, it was far better to execute the ring-leaders, than to engage in a war which must have proved disastrous to the Pil grims, and sacrificed a far greater number of the heathen savages. When the account reached Mr. Eobinson, at Leyden, he wrote, that "it would have been happy if they had converted some before they had killed any." But the Pilgrims were too much occupied with their sufferings and their dangers, to think of carrying the tidings of a Saviour among their MILES STANDISH. 299 enemies. Neither did they seem to think the savages capable of comprehending sacred truths. Tlie work was left for Eliot and Williams. In 1625, Standish went to England, as an agent for the colony, but arrived at a time when London was desolated by the plague. Business was suspended, and the members of the New England Council were scattered. He could do nothing but procure neces sary goods for the colony, and return, bearing with him the sad tidings of Eobinson's death. This event was the more deplored, by the colony, because they had yearly hoped for his arrival, and, with that ex pectation, had provided themselves with no pastor. Brewster officiated in that capacity, but they needed the guidance of the fervent Eobinson. It is refresh ing to note the vigor and faithfulness Avith which the Sabbath and all religious observances were kept, des pite the prolonged separation from their pastor, when compared with the weakness, the falling away, that attends the same circumstances in this age of security and comfort. In his latest letters, Mr. Eobinson urged the col onists to " consider the disposition of the captain, who Avas of a warm temper. He hoped the Lord had sent him among them for good, if they used him right." In this they were rightly warned, for the vigorous captain had little patience with the slow measures of prudence. But he was so ready to risk himself in any hazardous enterprise, of whatever nature, so suc cessfully inspired the drooping colonists with courage. SCO DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. and observed the orders given him with such strict fidelity, on all occasions, that they could not but re pose confidence in him, as a leader. Eesolute, prompt, and exacting the same integrity and fidelity from others which he himself never failed to render, he secured the love and trust of his fellow-Pilgrims, and filled the Indians with fear and admiration of his intrepid gallantry. " If the arm of fiesh were neces sary," says Dr. Belknap, "to establish the rights, and defend the lives, and protect the property of col onists in a new country, surrounded with enemies and false friends, certainly such a man as Standish, with all his imperfections, will hold a high rank am jug the worthies of New-England." The colonists signified their esteem and confidcuce, by appointing him one of the magistrates of Plymouth, as long as he lived. And, although advanced in years, he was, in 1645, appointed to command the Plymouth troops against the .Narragansets, and, in 1653, when hostilities with the Dutch, in Manhattan, were anticipated, he was one of a council of war, and received the command of the troops intended for the service. Thus, in spite of the infirmities of old age, Standish continued active in the employment of the colony. His winters were spent in Plymouth, but Duxbury was his summer home. He was one of the first set tlers of the town, which now straggles alou"- the shore for several miles. He lived at the foot of a summit, still known as Captain's Hill, which rises . MILES STANDISH. 801 some two hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea, and commands a complete view of Plymouth Bay. Far out in the bay, opposite Duxbury, a strip of drifting sand sweeps from the north, interposing a barrier against the thundering surges of the At lantic. Clumps of cedars, here and there, relieve its barrenness, and wild bushes fringe the low sand-hills that face the harbor. Between this interposing beach and the main-land, lies the green, rounded island, which first felt the pressure of the Pilgrims' steps, and which Standish could always look out upon, whether it rose in summer luxuriance from the lake-like bar bor, or whether it wore an icicled whe, as when he first beheld it. He must have marked it gladly from his quiet home, so long as his dimming eyes could be hold it, and, if he had learned anything of godly life, in his long sojourn with the Pilgrims, he must have praised God while he gazed upon it, and recounted the providences that had signally followed them from their earliest coming, and preserved them through famine, war, and disease, till the germ of civilization was rooted and nourished into a lithe young sapling. What holy joy would they feel, could they now be hold it towering into the great tree of liberty ; its branqhes, banyan-like, rooted to the very shores of the Pacific, and dropping its golden fruit in the laps of the many sister states of a continent ! Would that the fniit which is fair without and bitterness within, were nowhere gathered from its branches ! Standish died in 1656, leaving three sons and a S02 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. daughter, whose descendants chiefly reside in the county of Plymouth. One of his grandsons preserv ed his coat of mail for some time, but it is now sup posed to be lost. His sword, an iron pot, and a pew ter dish, are the only articles of his that remain among the treasured relics of the Pilgrims. A me mento of his daughter is with them — a faded sampler, upon which is traced, with skillful needlework, these characteristic and quaint lines " Lorea Standish is my name. Lord, guide my heart that I may do thy will : Also fiU my hands with such convenient skill, As may conduce to virtue void of shame ; And I will give the glory to thy name." These relics are enough to bring to the eye the stout Miles Standish, with his honest, yet determined countenance, his gentle, pious daughter, and her pu ritanic companions, and the strong band of Pilgrims, as they suffer and rejoice together ; as they fast with tears and prayers of faith ; as they feast upon the homely fare on the yearly Thanksgiving ; singing hymns of praise in the barricaded meeting-house, or sternly warning back their enemies ; joying at the first bridals, or weeping over the many dead. We see the remaining fifty bravely struggling with accu mulated sorrows ; we watch them drop away one af ter another, when the work for which God had brought them there, is finished. We see the well- tried and upright Winslow, Bradford, with his crown MILES STANDISH. 303 of honorable years, and the valorous Standish, go to the grave almost together. And, at last, we behold twelve lingering upon the borders of eternity, long enough to perceive the prophetic signs of a great and free nation, and then we note the fall of one and an other, and another, till the last link between the olden time and the new is broken. There they all lie, now, upon the Plymouth hills, where their anthems of praise rang up, and echoed in the wilderness. Nor least among them is their brave leader, who, as is said by an old historian, " chose to suffer affliction with the people of God ; who, through faith, subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, waxed valiant in fight, and tumed to flight the armies of the aliens." To the last, he was the firm, steadfast friend and protec tor of the Plymouth colonists, .and, as such, his name descends Avith honor to posterity. VUl. LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. A SHINING and delicate shell, cast by the surges of ocean upon some bleak shore ; a tropical plant of rare beauty, flowering and fading amidst the snows of the wintry north ; a diamond, or a drop of gold, gleam ing among the stern rocks of a lofty sierra — ¦ are em blems of the life of high-born Arabella, tossed, as it was, upon the tide of Time's commotion, and trans ferred from the luxurious scenes of her childhood to the companionship of heroical Pilgrims, and the chill hardships of a New England settlement. The records of her life are few and scattered ; but enough may be gathered to present a beautiful contrast of grace and loveliness, with the rugged simplicity of colonial ad venture. Her name is a monument of the power of domestic affection and religious principle over all the attractions of refinement, of proud position, and the ties of blood, on the one hand, and, on the other, the triumph of these principles over all feminine dread of perils of the sea, and of a strange wilderness, made doubly fearful by the supposed ferocity of its savage inhabitants. LADY AEABELLA .FOHNSON. 305 In Nottinghamshire, betAveen the Trent and the Eyre, with the flats of Lincolnshire on the one side, and the Derbyshire hills on the other, is the region of the ancient, royal forest of SherAvood. But feAV of the old oaks that sheltered Eobin Hood and his merry foresters, remain ; those few stretch their knot ted limbs over the smoothly-shorn lawns of the wide parks, into which that storied and historical region is divided. The ancient road, where the green archers waylaid sordid friars and portly arch-bishops, still re tains its old windings, with a new title — " the Duke ries " — so named, because it is bordered by the am pie domains of seven of England's proudest nobles. Clumber Park, one of these broad estates, is the family seat of the Lincolns, or Dukes of Newcastle. The first earldom of Lincoln was bestowed by Queen Elizabeth upon Lord Clinton, then High Admiral. The third inheritor of the title, was the father of Lady Arabella. The fifth died without heirs, and the estates and earldom passed to a cousin, Francis Clin ton, whose grandson. Sir Henry, engaged as General in the'American war of the Eevolution, and distin guished himself, in the eyes of the British, by the capture of Charlestown, and more, in the eyes of Americans, by the evacuation of Philadelphia. The ninth Earl received the additional title of Duke of Newcastle, and was appointed keeper of Sherwood Forest. It maybe inferred that, in this region of romance, — within sight of the battle-fields of the rival Eoses, 20 306 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. where many a clump of the famous forest yet croAvned the unleveled knolls, summoning to the wanderer's fancy the Avhole troop of green-coated archers, busy with their feasts or plots under the deep shade — in a region, fertile and beautiful, broidered with the cur ving Trent, the silvery Eyre, and the soft-named Dove and Idle, and picturesque in the many monastic ruins, dismantled castles, and far reaching views of old, walled towns, with their crumbling fortresses and towers — in a home, luxurious in its immediate scenes of gardens, groves, and smoothly aisled parks, and far more beautiful in its interior life of affection and piety — the Lady Arabella was tenderly reared. The large household of the Earl of Lincoln was' eminently a pious one. The parade of nobility and the frivolity of wealth, could have entered but little into the home-life of a family from which came two of New England's first magistrates, and another, in whose name the Pilgrims' first patent was taken out ; a family from which two delicately bred daughters were permitted to go forth to endure the trials of the Ne"w World, as the wives of pious and untitled men, and who, with their fourteen or fifteen brothers and sisters, had been, from their birth, under the guidance and nurture of a conscientious mother. The Countess of Lincoln published a work, condemning the unnat ural course of mothers of her rank ; and, to exemplify her sentiments, nourished the infancy of her children. She guarded their development of character, with her prayers and tender admonitions. It is easy to believe, LADY AEABELLA JOHNSON. 307 even were there no proofs, that she reaped the pre cious fruits of her faithfulness, and that her large household was pervaded by the ruling spirit of Chris tian love. Both the Earl and the Countess sympathized with the Pilgrims in their desire to emigrate to America. Mr. John Wincob, a gentleman of the family, was engaged in obtaining a patent for the Leyden exiles, and succeeded, in 1619, although the grant was not made use of, owing to their unexpected debarkation on the shore of Plymouth. America was then made an exhaustless theme at the fireside of the Lincolns. The recent discoveries there, the retreat it offered from religious persecution, its wild beauty, as pictured by Ealeigh, its fertility and attractions, as represented by Hudson, and its strange, savage possessors, were all freely discussed by the guests of the castle, and with deep interest by the family, since one of their at taches was about to test the advantages and terrors of the New World. The death of the Earl, in 1619, withdrew, for a time, the attention of the Countess to the family du ties, which more signally devolved upon her in her widowhood, together with the hospitalities incumbent upon her, as the dowager of a noble house. The young Earl and his bride, the daughter of Lord Say, now bore the honors of the succession. Eut there was not one of the household so precious, or so con soling to the bereaved Countess, as the gentle, tender hearted Arabella. Her remarkable loveliness of per- 308 DISCOVERERS AKD PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. son, as well as of character, her bright, glad temper ament, that threw sunshine in the way of the surliest, and her unaffected piety, of the hopeful, active kind, had especially endeared her to her father. He had entertained ambitious hopes of seeing her united with one of rank and power, and filling a station suited to her unusual grace and beauty. But, taught by her mother to revere strength of soul and purity of char acter, more than mere position, it was natural that she should yield her hand to an untitled lover, who embodied her high ideal, rather than sacrifice her happiness to ambition. The one who aspired to this honorable marriage was Isaac Johnson, a gentleman connected with fam ilies of high rank, but who had no title in possession or expectancy. He had fine estates on the sloping hills of Eutland, in the meadows of Northampton, and upon the wolds of Lincolnshire. Which of the estates was enlivened by the manor-house, the some time home of Arabella, is not recorded. Mr. Johnson has been described as a " contempla tive character, serious in his deportment, with an ex pression of thought on his mild countenance, which the beholder, at first glance, would have termed sad ness. Yet his heart was warm and frank ; and, when in intercourse with his'friends, he threw off the re serve, which proceeded more from depth of feeling than a want of sympathy with his fellow-creatures, few were so agreeable, or so beloved in society as this amiable man." The same attraction that made LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 309 Mr. Johnson the idol of the company with Avhom he emigrated, won his guileless bride. The doting father could offer no obstacle, and the good mother could desire nothing better for her best-loved daughter, than to see her the wife of a man of refinement, cheerful piety, generous sympathies, and devoted affection — an affection so entwined with the very existence of Arabella, that he could not live without her, but mourned himself to the grave in one short month, after she had found her resting-place upon the shores of New England. The earl's consent to the marriage had been given, and, the year following his death, Arabella was uni ted to Ml-. Johnson. Several years of tranquil hap piness passed in their noAV home. The interest which both, for a long time, had felt in the success of the Pilgrims, was heightened, from time to time, by ac counts from America. These, though setting forth the hardships and the novelties of their new, free life, made little or no mention of the severer sufferings, and the mortality among them. Many of the perse cuted Puritans still remained in England, longing to join the pioneer band at Plymouth, but were too poor to meet the necessary expenses. Now and then, a ship was chartered, and a few hastened over to re lieve and to augment the colony. The self-denial and the sufferings of these brave settlers, awakened all of Mr. Johnson's sympathy and admiration, for he was a Puritan, though with less of staid strictness than prevailed among the Independents. His con- 310 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. nection with poAverful families had shielded him from persecution, but he could not remain silent and inac tive, while he noted the privations of the colonists, nor look with pleasure or peace upon his ample pos sessions, and know the poverty of those who suffered for religion's sake. The experiment of Eobert, son of Sir Ferdinando Georges, and who had lately married Lady Arabella's sister, Frances, made little difference with Mr. John son's purpose. Sir Eobert went to Plymouth in 1623, with a commission of governor-general of New Eng land • he returned in a few months, " finding the state of things did not answer his quality and condition." In 1628, a plan was proposed, which finally enlisted Mr. Johnson as one of the settlers of New England. The indefatigable exertions of Mr. White, a minister of Dorchester, engaged many of the noblest and Avor- thiest people of England, in a project to " establish a plantation of ' the best ' of their countrymen on the shores of New England, in a safe seclusion, where the corruj)tions of human superstition might never in vade." A grant of territory Avas obtained from the council of Plymouth, which designated "a belt of land stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific, ex tending three miles south of the Eiver Charles and Massachusetts Bay, and three miles north of every part of the Eiver Merrimac." Winthrop, Dudley, Endicot, Pellingham, Johnson, and Humfrey, were among the undertakers of the enterprise. Mr. John son possessed the largest means, and held the largest LADY AEABELLA JOHNSON. 311 share in the compact. John Humfrey was allied to him by marriage with Susan, a second sister of Lady Arabella. That she was to be accompanied by a sister, did much to enliven the prospect of emigration, to Ara- ella. She was actuated by the same religious zeal which prompted Mr. Johnson ; and her love for him would have carried her willingly to the end of the earth. She might have echoed the language of the Spanish lady, who, as described by Peter Martyr, " perceiving her husband now furnishing himself to depart to the unknown coasts of the New World, and those large tracts of land and sea, spake these words unto him : ' Whithersoever your fatal destiny shall lead you, either by the furious waves of the great ocean, or by the manifold and horrible dangers of the land, I will surely bear you company. There can no peril chance to me so terrible, nor any kind of death so cruel, that shall not be much easier to abide, than to live so far separate from you.' " With this same strong, beautiful devotion, the Lady Arabella clung to her husband ; not deterring him Avith tears and la mentations, but, inspired by holy enthusiasm, urging him to fulfill his Christian purpose. With her hand pledged in his, she may well have exclaimed, with the daughter of Naomi : "Whither thou goest, I Avill go ; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God, my God : where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried." Assured of the willingness of his young wife t( 312 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. brave the dangers of the wilderness, Mr. Johnson sold his estates, and made preparations for a new home beyond the Atlantic. Mr. Endicot, with his wife and family, and those whom the company sent with him, first sailed for Massachusetts Bay, and commenced a settlement at Naumkeag, now Salem. By the re turning ships, they sent such favorable accounts as hastened and encouraged the preparations of those about to follow. In the course of the summer of 1629, seventeen ships, with three hundred persons, were sent to reenforce the new colony. In the spring of 1630, another fleet of ships was in readiness in the port of Yarmouth. The largest vessel, of three hundred tons, was named the Arabella, in honor of the noble lady whom it was to convey. Thomas Dudley and Mr. Btad- street, both of whom had held the office of stoAvard, in the Earl of Lincoln's family, for many years, were among the passengers. The former went as deputy- governor. Some occurrence detained Mr. Humfrey and his wife, to the severe disappointment of Lady Arabella. Governor Winthrop was of the number, but without his family, who Avere to join him the fol lowing year. The excitement of preparation had sus tained the spirits of the party, but the near approach of embarkation, the separation from friends, and the abandonment of their native land, more as exiles than as emigrants, filled all Avith sadness. The evenino- before the departure, the governor gave a feast to the company, and their assembled friends, at Yarmouth. LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 313 "WTiile drinking to the health of those left behind, he could no longer contain himself, and burst into tears. That many a manly heart swelled with emotion, and that it was more a feast of sympathy, of tears, of love, of encouragement, than a relish of dainty viands, those know best who have felt a near, and perhaps eternal parting, from the best loved, while gathered at a final feast, where each strove to hide a sad and tearful countenance under a vail of smiles. On the moming of the seventh or tenth of April, 1629, the ships sailed from Yarmouth, and arrived at Salem, June 12th. The two months' voyage was re lieved of much of its tediousness to the companions of Lady Arabella, by her sweet vivacity, as character istic as her piety, and in no way incompatible with it. To such a temperament as hers, the inconvenien ces and annoyances of voyaging, for weeks, in a close cabin, in common with many, only gave occasion for innocent mirth, that whiled away the discontent of others. Their arrival upon the shores of the New World had nothing chilling or repellent in it, for the sight of a vast Avildemess, rich in the perfected foliage of June, inspired more wonder than dread ; and the hardships of the new life were too vague to the unin itiated comers, to dishearten or alarm them. The ship anchored near Baker's Island. Its arrival was immediately welcomed by the settlers, who, the year previous, had cleared the forest and broken the ground for their coming. Mr. Endicot, Mr. Shelton, and Captain Levit, came on board to offer a warm N 314 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. greeting, and induced the governor, his assistants, and " other gentlemen and gentlewomen," to return with them and partake of their rude, but kin-d hospi tality. Accordingly, they were conveyed to the shore, and conducted to the best log house Salem could afford, where "they supped," says Hubbard, "with a good venison pasty and good beer." The earl's daughter, hitherto accustomed to the refine ments of a princely home, must, here, in the low- walled, ill-furnished cabin, have felt the reality of the pilgrim's life ; and, whatever charm the daring and romance of the undertaking had, in the eyes of these noble men and women, when discussing it at their English firesides, it must have vanished as they viewed the mud and log hovels of Salem, the half- made gardens, and the small clearings, where young corn was springing among dreary groups of burnt stumps and upturned roots. That the trying prospect before them did not utterly dishearten these people, unused to privation and labor, can only be attributed to the firm Christian principles, through which they were strong, hopeful and undaunted. Most of them returned to the ship, after the hastily prepared feast in their honor, "liking their supper better than the lodging which, at that time, could be prepared on a sudden," continues Hubbard, " qv else tljat they might leave the same free to the gentle women that went ashore with them, who, like Noah's dove, finding sure footing on the firm land, returned no more to their ark, floating on the unstable waves." LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 315 While they had been feasting on shore, the remainder of the ship's company, dissatisfied to spend the af ternoon of the day in idle gazing at the woods and the green banks and hills, landed on the side of the harbor opposite Salem and towards Cape Ann. There they wandered on the grassy turf, in the sunshine and in the shade, finding that, after all, earth was earth, and trees were trees, in this wonderful New World, and that the elms and chestnuts neither grew with their tops downward, as the philosophers, who con fronted Golumbus, asserted must be the case, if the earth be rotund ; nor that every stone " promised gold or silver by his complexion," as had been declared of some portions of America. New England was vastly like the Old, in many respects, and, if in this the voyagers were disappointed, they consoled themselves by gathering wUd strawberries upon the slopes, and made themselves " merry as the gentlefolks at their venison pasty and strong beer." The morning after the arrival of the company, Mas- conomo. Sagamore of Cape Ann, with one of his chiefs, paid a visit of welcome to the governor, on ship- board, and afforded the emigrants a first and pre possessing sight of the much dreaded savages. Prep arations were made the same day for removal to the shore, although the position of Salem was not liked by the movers of the enterprise. To their dismay, they learned that the colonists had scarcely two weeks' provision among them, and that dependence had been placed upon the new arrival for a supply. The pro- .".16 DISCOVERIES AND PIOKEEES OF AMEEICA. visioned ship had not left England till some time after the Arabella. Yet the demands of the settlers were urgent ; for many were weak and sick, and it was further ascertained that eighty of their number had died the previous winter. The sight of their distress was disheartening enough to the enthusiastic men, who had come with the expectation only of prosper ity. Disease, famine, and death stared them in the face. To share with them the provisions which each had furnished for himself, was the only resource. Mr. Johnson set the benevolent example, and his wife cheerfully parted with the cordials and delicacies, which her thoughtful mother had provided for her own wants. The servants, who had been transported by their employers, were set at liberty to seek the living their old masters could not afford them. So far from yielding to their present extremity, or be wailing the depressing prospect, a few of the emi grants formed an exploring party, to seek a better site for a settlement. While these preparations for a home were being hastened, Mr. Johnson was detained at Salem by the illness of Lady Arabella. A severe cold, accompa nied by slow fever, was the result of exposures which she had been too carefully nurtured to meet. The days wore on, and with them wore away her strength, though she endeavored, with her smiles and cheerful ness, to calm the evident anxiety of her husband, and of the many who offered kindness. She had become LADY AEABELLA JOHNSON 317 endeared to the whole colony ; there was not one who would not delight to yield from his own comfort whatever would contribute to hers. But, Avith all the watchfulness and care of those who loved her, there was no abatemc't of the disease. She saAv, with calmness and patient resignation, that she must die. But one regret disturbed her peace, and that was leaving her husband, who, she well knew, would grieve for her with more than ordinary grief. He reproached himself, as he saw her fading away, strick en by the trials which she had been ready to share with him. But his love and tenderness could not countermand the summons to eternity. He could only watch, with agonized sadness, at her bedside, in the small, dimly lighted room of a log house, the best that could be provided ; he could only cling to her chilled hand, and listen to her sweet, consoling voice, as she bade him look forward to a home where there would be no separation, no tears, and assured him of her joy in having made her last pilgrimage to a land where God might be worshiped in the spirit and truth. She had no regrets for the beautiful home she had left in the Old World, but rather gloried in finding her burial-place upon shores, where she believed a people of God had begun to take root. The same sweet piety and self-sacrificing spirit that character ized her life, supported her in death. The last morning of August, 1630, found the " mor tal paleness" upon her features, beautiful even in death. She is dead I she is dead ! the beautiful Ara- SI S DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. bella! echoed from one lip to another. The young girls wept, and the matrons sighed at her quick de parture, and said the wilderness was no place for earl's daughters. The hardy men were silent at the news, but could point out the mounds where their own dead were laid, in evidence that they knew the agony of the stroke that had fallen upon the newly bereaved husband. He sat silent and tearless, his eyes clinging to and tracing the smooth, marble fea tures, as if to keep their memory forever with him. The eyes in which he had always read ineffable love, the lips which had only spoken tenderness and en couragement, no longer welcomed his presence. The burial of the good and the loved was too fre quent an occurrence to obtain more than a passing notice from the afflicted colonists, almost every one of whom had stood at the graves of the near and dear. The lovely and the worshiped wife of Johnson was laid in one of the grassy glades of Salem, and imme diately the pressing wants and occupations of the col ony displaced the passing sadness. Homes and har vests were to be striven for, before the severities of winter should overtake them, and snatch still more from their diminished numbers. All the hope that had animated Mr. Johnson hith erto, seemed buried in the grave of his wife. He engaged in the removal to Charlestown, and the plan ning of Trimountaiu, or Boston, with diligence and energy, for, says one of the journalists of the time, he " was the greatest furtherer of this plantation ; " yet LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 319 all his employments could not divert him from his loss, and with all his fortitude and strength of char acter, he could not shake off the grief that preyed upon him. He selected a lot, and built a house upon it, but the want of the angelic presence of her who was to have made his household glad, only saddened him the more. His was a dumb grief — fatal in its silence. It wore upon him — it consumed his life — it bore him to the grave in a few short weeks after the death of his loved wife. He was buried, at his own request, in the lot he had chosen for his dwelling. " At his departure," says an early historian, " there were many Aveeping eyes, and some fainting hearts, fearing the failure of the undertaking," for he had been " a prime mover of the enterprise, zealous in religion," and a benefac tor of the colony. He had left, too, the encouraging testimony which had so soothed his sorrow Avhen ut tered by his dying wife, that he " rejoiced that he had lived to see a church of Christ established in Amer ica, and professed that he thought his life better spent in that than any other way." So much beloved was he, that the people desired to be buried near him when they died. His lot, therefore, was appropria ted as a burial place, and still remains as such, in the' midst of Boston, in the close vicinity of the Court House, which occupies the site of his dwelling. Two years after the death of Mr. Johnson and Lady Arabella, Mr. Humfrey, Avho was to have emigrated with them, arrived at Boston Avith his family, with 320 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. the hope of furthering the good work, and undis mayed by the sacrifice of a favorite sister, and her revered husband. After a residence of eight or nine years, however, and the endurance of losses by fire, and many reverses, he returned with his wife to their ancestral estates in England. However few the records of the gentle Lady Ara bella and her husband, the " Father of Boston," their memory Avill ever be preserved by New Englanders, and those who admire and venerate the magnanimity, the self-sacrificing spirit, the firmness and the high Christian purpose of the early Pilgrims, whom nei ther the fury of the sea, the blight of the north wind, the fear of famine, the knife and the war-whoop of the savage, nor even the image of Death always sta tioned at their thresholds, could, with combined ter rors, deter from the work to which God had ap r>ointed them. IX. JOHN ELIOT. The spiritual hero is far more illustrious than t-le merely scientific, or military, or mercenary. He who rules his own spirit is better than he that taketh a city ; and he that conquers hearts to the dominion of the Prince of Peace, is greater than he who adds new provinces to the realm of his earthly sovereign. Col umbus was a sublime, moral h.ero, no less than phys ically such ; he dared the scorn of men, as well as the foaming lips of the ocean ; but here his praise must cease ; a stern encounter of outward difficul ties, and a brave endurance of ingratitude and chains, were the virtues called into exercise. Neither he, nor Hudson, nor De Soto, nor Ealeigh, explored, like Eliot, the Avorld of truth, and of the human heart, persevering in the rugged line of holy duty even to extreme age. None of those noted discoverers, like this well-entitled Apostle of the Indians, struggled for years through barbarous aboriginal dialects, more strange and obscure than the tangled southern forests, and not to be cut with any axe of steel ; none of them can be ranked with him who contended with N* 21 322 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. Indian indifference, colder than polar ice, and Indian wiles, more deceptive than unknown rocks and shoals ; none of them, like him, went alone among threaten ing savages, defying their opposition in the words, "I am about the work of the great God. ... I will go on ; do you touch me if you dare." John Eliot was born, it is supposed, in 1604, at Nasing, a village situated a few miles north of Lon don, near the famous Epping Forest, which is now a level region of rich pasturage and cultivated ground. His earliest years passed here under the guidance of pious, faithful parents. There was nothing remarka ble in his docile childhood, yet its simple record af fords another illustration of the great results which may fiow from the use of humble means. Whether Cambridge University is the one where young Eliot's education was completed, or which of its seventeen colleges and halls he entered, are ques tions which can only be settled by reference to their archives. Cambridge is so near his native place that the probability is in its favor. Here he may possibly have dwelt under the same roof with Milton, who was younger than he by four years, and graduated at the same institution. But, whatever is left in doubt, it is certain that he was a thorough scholar, especially in the ancient languages, grammar and theology. After finishing his academical course, he became an usher in a school opened by Thomas Hooker, at Little Baddon, near the county-town of Essex. Mr. Hooker had been silenced as a preacher because of JOHN ELIOT. 323 non-conformity, and in the same year in which he established the school, was obliged to escape into Holland ; thence he went to New England, was the first minister of Cambridge, Mass., and afterwards was one of the first settlers who, guided through the wilderness by a compass, founded the town of Hart ford, Conn. Short as must have been Eliot's associ ation with this distinguished man, it was ever re membered by him as fruitful in much spiritual good. He fulfilled, with quiet assiduity, the trying duties of a teacher, although that noble office, still despised in England, was then generally held in so much con tempt that Cotton Mather labors to show that Eliot was not disgraced by the occupation. In the family of the devoted Hooker, he found those happy reli gious infiuences which not only refreshed him from the cares of his employment, but strengthened every holy purpose. The persecutions that gave no rest to the English Puritans, discouraged him from any attempt to as sume, in his native land, the office of the ministry, which he had now fixed upon as his proper calling ; it is thought, indeed, that he was not even permitted to continue as an instructor, after Hooker's school was dispersed. The courage exhibited in his after life, shows that neither the fear of imprisonment nor of death, deterred him from duty ; but his manly sense of freedom would not allow him to preach in secret, in the recesses of forests and desolate moors, liable to be surprised at any moment, by the onset of armed 32i DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. cavaliers in search of the " rebel roundheads." Like all the Pilgrims, he longed for the liberty of a New World, notwithstanding the superstition of the time had invested the wilderness and the " salvages " with a supernatural terror, equal to the romantic attrac tion thrown over them by enthusiasm. At the age of twenty-seven, he determined to forsake England, leaving the lady to whom he was engaged, to follow him when he should have provided a fixed home. In November, 1631, the ship Lion, Captain Pierce, anchored in Boston harbor, with sixty passengers, among whom were John Eliot and the family of Governor Winthrop. The arrival of so important persons, the accession of so many colonists, and the no less welcome cargo of provisions at a time when a famine was apprehended, were greeted by the first celebration of the infant town — a child's-play dem onstration that, pictured to modern imagination, oddly contrasts with the recent reception of a foreign pa triot, by an army of citizen soldiers and a countless crowd of spectators, on Beacon Hill, then a towering mount of wildwood, but now a half-leveled elevation croAvned with a State House and princely dwellings, that overlook the long, leafy arcades of the Common. The site of the city, at that period, presented three abrupt eminences, with marshes between, which were so overfiowed at high-tide as to give the peninsula the appearance of two islands. The year before Eliot s arrival, Winthrop had reached New England with seventeen ships and fif- JOHN ELIOT. 325 teen hundred passengers, more than half of them Puritans, and embracing many persons of wealth, learning and talent, who left all the refinements of an English home for the sake of civil and religious free dom. Many of these settled in the vicinity, but the hardships of the first winter, the rude experience of life in an uncivilized country, and the consequent de pression of spirits and inroads of disease, seriously thinned out their numbers, till a comparatively fee ble band was left to found the future metropolis. The little colony, however, was in full operation upon the coming of the new emigrants. Its election day was fixed, its fine imposed in a case of true "Yankee quack ery, its monthly militia trainings instituted, and other amusing and still perpetuated characteristics exhib ited, which scarcely seem the record of two hundred years ago, but rather that of a settlement of enter prising Yankees in the " backwoods " to-day. With true Puritan zeal, a church had been organ ized before a single tree had been felled or a house erected. The pastor of the church, Eev. Mr. Wilson, being absent in England, Eliot was at once called up on to occupy his place, greatly to the relief of the governor and two other laymen, who had been ap pointed by the pastor to " prophesy " during his ab sence. With an audience comprising robust intellect, high education, and religious cultivation, it is no small testimony to Eliot's ability, that an earnest ef fort was made to retain him as a colleague of Mr. Wilson. But he had induced a large number of 326 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. friends to emigrate to America, with the understand ing that he would be their minister. With them, came the lady of his choice, to whom he was united in October, 1632. He immediately removed toEox- bury, where he was made teacher of the new church, in fulfillment of his promise. No events of importance are chronicled concern ing him for the next fourteen years, except his inci dental connection with certain political and religious agitations in the colony. His life was one of indus trious activity. He followed the round of humble duty with the noiseless step of true usefulness, never taking a conspicuous part in passing events, except when the same sense of duty called for a variation from the quiet routine of his occupation. In all things he seems to have been the plain model of a man, and of a minister of the Gospel. So far as can be gathered from the few writings of his that are preserved, and from descriptions by his cotempora ries, his discourses were thoroughly studied, simple, bold, and warmed with a true Christian love and zeal. The same simplicity characterized his daily manner, dress and diet ; he was guileless as a child, in his conversation, and unostentatious in his bear ing. So intent was he upon higher objects, that his personal appearance erred on the side of negligence ; and so far was he from indulging the pleasures of ap petite, that he practiced the most rigid self-denial, al ways confining himself to one article of food, and tc a glass of water, though a feast were set before him, JOHN ELIOT. 327 and though tho practice was universal to partake of wine. By these means, and by his active habits, he strengthened his constitution for a long life and ardu ous labors. Luxury soon followed the Puritans to their new home in the forest. Many of them were wealthy, refined ana enterprising, and, as the colony increased and prospered, these citizens gradually gathered about them some of the comforts of their old homes. Little by little, the Eves of the community ventured to add a bright ribbon to their sober garb, to alter the wea risome sameness of the cut of their garments, or to don a becoming vail which did no manner of harm except to excite the envy of some superannuated spinster. The young gallants, also, made various in- n^ovations on the prejudices of the times, till all were speedily checked by severe pulpit denunciation. It was considered not beneath the dignity of the Gen eral Court of Boston, to sit in judgment upon the " large vails and large sleeves " of the women, and to condemn the use of "gold and silver laces, girdles, hat-bands, and embroidered caps." But it is not sur prising that the heroic and devoted men of that day did not discriminate between a culpable excess and a reasonable participation in those elegancies of life, which are the product of commendable art and indus try, and are the natural fiowers that spring from an instinctive love of the beautiful. Educated as they were, in a land where ceremonials of church and state were held in Ugh consideration, and confound 328 DISCOVEEEES AND PISNEEES OP AMERICA. ing the garb with the reality of tyranny and vanity, it is not wonderful that they carried their principles to a ludicrous extreme, and gave equal importance to insignificant fashions. Eliot was not exempt from the mistaken scruples of his period ; he long inveighed with determined zeal against the wearing of long hair and frizzled wigs — matters that at best are questions only of individual taste and convenience. His character was by no means severe and repel ling, notwithstanding the grave, earnest nature of his pursuits, and of his times. He had no forced dignity and sobriety, peculiar to his class, but that uncon scious dignity which arises spontaneously, from per fect sincerity and right purposes. He was always himself, and his conversation was full of lively hu mor, regulated wit, instructive suggestion, and moral infiuence. Gentleness and cheerfulness were the or dinary habit of his feelings, and the spirit of love predominated in his teachings ; yet, whenever public or private abuses seemed to demand it, he uttered re bukes and denunciations in the appalling tones of the ancient prophets and old reformers. At that day, and on that free soil, the spiritual guide of the peo ple was expected to utter the truth in all its social and civil applications, directly in the face of power' and station. He was upheld in proportion to his fear less faithfulness, and not according to his subservi ency to the few from whom he derived his well-earned income. Amusing anecdotes are told of Eliot's • charities. JOHN ELIOT. 329 Next to his single-eyed zeal for the souls of men, Avas this trait of generous benevolence. His life-long at tempts to civilize, as well as to evangelize the In dians, are the best illustrations of this. But he nev er overlooked the daily opportunities of ameliorating the o on dition of men, in his enthusiasm for great en terprises. The poor and sick were diligently sought out, if they did not send for him. The comfort of his own family was often forgotten, when an object of compassion appealed to his sympathy. On one occasion, the parish treasurer had made him a pay ment of salary, but, knowing his too liberal disposi tion, had securely tied up the money in a handker chief Eliot, on his way home, called on a poor, sick family, and told them the Lord had sent them relief. They wept for gratitude, while he endeavored to loosen the hard knots of the handkerchief. Unable to open it, he gave it and all the contents to the needy mother of the family, saying, " Here, my dear, take it ; I believe the Lord designs it all for you." His companion, destined to walk life's pilgrimage with him for more than half a century, was every way congenial in disposition, and fitted to supply Ms deficiencies. She had some skill in medicine, and greatly assisted him in his efforts to relieve illness, disease and poverty. More than all, by her busy industry, and shrewd economy, she kept his affairs from falling into the perplexity to which his bountiful and artless nature would have suffered i-hem to run. So little did he concern himself with the goods of this world, it is related that she once asked him whose were the cattle Avhich hap pened to be standing in front of his house ; he replied that he did not knoAv, and was surprised to find that they were his own property. Such was the man who well represented his age and strife of society, and who has left a life replete with noble deeds. The picture, as thus presented, has, doubtless, the mellow coloring of his riper days. He was young when he entered upon his work, and lived to very advanced years. The inexperienced and trivial impulses of his youth, if any were yielded to, are lost in oblivion, and his mistakes, acknowl edged by him as such, do not mar the fine pattern of character exhibited in his memoirs. In all things, he might well have stood for the original of Cowper's portrait of a spiritual teacher, drawn a century af terward. Eliot had not long resided at Eoxbury, when an event occurred which illustrates his independence and candor, while it may also be an instance of his immaturity of judgment, and of the position of his class, then, as the Eoman-like tribunes of the people. The Pequot sachem, who was engaged in a war with the Naragansets and the Dutch, sent envoys to ne gotiate a treaty of peace with the Massachusetts colo ny. Strange as it may now seem, the matter was brought up at the weekly religious lecture, where members of the council happened to be when the am bassadors arrived, and where it was considered fortu- JOHN ELIOT. nate that they could be consulted in connection with the clergy, who had no small share in public delib erations. A treaty was effected, by which the In dians, among other conditions, were to aid the forma tion of a Connecticut settlement, and to pay "four hundred fathoms of wampum, with forty beaver, and thirty other skins." Eliot denounced the transaction in a sermon, particularly because the people had not been consulted. The government directed three cler gymen, one of whom was his old fellow-teacher, Mr. Hooker, to " deal with him ; " and, the next Sabbath, he readily acknowledged that, inasmuch as the treaty was one of peace, not of war, he had condemned too hastily " the powers that be." His life affords too much proof of undaunted firmness of character, to ad mit of interpreting this magnanimous willingness to retract an error, as an act of weakness or cowardly inconsistency. He next appears in the famous affair of Ann Hutch inson — a theological war that originated in what may be considered the first Womans' Eights move ment in America. Tlie men of the First Church, in Boston, were accustomed to meet, recapitulate the sermons of the preceding Sabbath, and comment on them ; and from these meetings the women were ex cluded. Mrs. Hutchinson, a native of Lincolnshire, and wife of one of the Boston representatives at the General Court, established similar conclaves at her own house, freely discussed the doctrines of the pul pit, taking Mr. Cotton into her especial favor, and de- 832 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. nouncing all but two or three of the ministers as un der covenant of works, instead of grace. Among other heresies, she advocated the possibility of enjoy ing immediate Divine inspiration. The proceeding 'icu^n grew to be a general contro versy ; civil and ecclesiastical dignitaries were ranged «>n opposite sides of the question ; all impugned the motives as well as human opinions of each other, and were, as they persuaded themselves, very humbly jealous for the pure truth. At length, to settle the weighty matter, the first synod in America was call ed at Newton, near Boston. Eliot was one of the witnesses against Ann Hutchinson ; he, with others, had visited her and taken down her sentiments in writing, to the exactness of which they were obliged to testify under oath. In the course of the trial, El iot denied that the Scripture encourages us to expect a "particular revelation of things that shall fall out." To this. Governor Vane, a partisan of the defendant, replied that "we must not limit the word of God." It also appeared that the venerable Hooker had pro fessed to receive a revelation conceming the over throw of England. This imputation was mistakenly contradicted by Eliot. The convention gravely passed condemnation on no less than eighty-two erroneous opinions of poor Ann and her followers — a result at which we need not smile, when we recollect that many such petty questions, as Avhether a man may marry his wife's sister, or whether his daughter may move her feet to JOHN ELIOT. 333 music, are worthy of profound legislation in learned assemblies, gathered from all parts of the United States, in this enlightened day, while real and " pe culiar" evils are snugly wrapped in the cloak of charity. The misguided Ann was afterwards ban ished by the General Court, and went to the then asy lum of free speech — Ehode Island. Subsequently, she and her family were killed by the Indians, in the Dutch country — an event that was construed by her persecutors as a judgment of Heaven, and by no means as a consequence of their own officious intol erance, which would not let a woman's delusion die out, but fanned it into a fire that threatened to con sume the colony. But a few years after this extirpation of heresy, the triumphant faith of the colony had risen to such a pitch, that a new metrical version of the Psalms was demanded. Eliot was one of three appointed to this work, and the result was the first bound volume ever published in America, only a pamphlet and an alma nac having preceded it. The book was printed at Cambridge, in 1640, and entitled, " The Psalms in Me tre, faithfully translated for the use, edification, and comfort of the Saints, in publick and private, espe cially in New England." The version was soon adopted throughout the region named in the title by which it was generally known — the " New England Version," and was used by non-conformists in Britain. The piety of the work is so much better than the po- 3 -''.4 DISCOVERER-- ANn PTONEERS OF AMERICA. etry, that the authors deserve the satirical advice given them at the time : "Tou Roxb'ry poets, keep clear of the crime, Of missing to give us very good rhyme." Eliot occasionally amused himself by writing ver ses — a most laudable exercise and recreation, if it be the putting of some beautiful thought into melodi ous language ; but, in that age, it was a mere rivalry in trivial and ingenious conceits, expressed in pedan tic words. His " New England Version," however, answered its purpose, great as its faults may have been. Its stanzas have winged many a devoted soul to heaven, in the hour of worship. Elliot next appears in the great undertaking, to which the best energies of his life Avere given, and which has lent his name its chief distinction — -the conversion of the Indians. This had been a promi nent object with the patrons of American discovery, such as Isabella, of Spain, and with many of the first settlers. Glorious A'isions of the christianizing of the aborigines, floated before their eyes ; much wealth and life were consecrated to this noble end. It should be remembered that a world-wide benevolence, not confined to our own boastful age, was a powerful motive in that day, no less than lust of gold and love of freedom. In the Charter of the Massachusetts col ony, granted by Charles I., the hope was expressed that the colonists " male wynn and incite the natives JOHN ELIOT. 335 of the country to the knowledge and obedience of the onlie true God and Savior of mankinde, and the Chris tian Fayth, which in our Eoyall Intencion, and the Adventurers' free Profession, is the principall Ende of this Plantacion." The success of Eliot, as well as that of Brainard, in the next century, and of the Cherokee mission in this, is proof, in the face of all failures, that the simple- hearted children of the forest might have been civil ized, in the course of time, had not the corrupting influences that accompany civilization, and the supe rior tactics of Europeans, wasted the tribes too soon for the realization of the grand result Had wars, foreign diseases, and spirituous poison, been unknown, the numerous tribes, whose "names are on our wa ters," would have been found to-day in refined com munities, scattered over their ancient country, or col lected in some well-tilled state or territory of their own. The progress of the work among the natives, was reported from time to time, to the world, in pam phlets that bore such quaint and poetic titles as these : " The Day-Breaking, if not the Sun-Eising of the Gospel, Avith the Indians of New England, &c., Lon don, 1647; "—"The Gleare Sun-Shine of the Gosp-sl breaking forth upon the Indians, &c.,'l648 ; " — " The Light appearing more and more towards the perfect Day, &c., 1651." He who was the leader in a move ment which his cotemporaries loved to speak of in these glowing images of day-break, may well be 830 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. numbered among the morning stars of the New Worid. The General Court, in 1646, requested the elders of the churches to consider how Christianity might be diffused among the natives, and this recommendation appears to have increased the zeal of Eliot. He had already begun to acquire the Indian language, with the aid of a young Pequot, who had been a servant in an English family. In this task he was engaged two years, before he thought himself prepared to preach in the language, although he was sooner able to translate it into the Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, with passages of Scripture, and exhortations. It was a long, patient, humble, though noble, under taking to surmount the first difficulty. The sole mo tive was to do good ; for no treasures of literature were to be unlocked, by the hard study- — only a me dium for communicating truth to the savage, was to be acquired. The Indian dialects were full of unpro nounceable words, such as " Wutappessttukgussunnoo- hwehtunkquok " — " kneeling doAvn to him ; " with no grammar or dictionary, these words were so in comprehensible that Cotton Mather gravely declares that certain demons, whose skill in language he had tested, were confounded by the speech of the Ameri can barbarians, while the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, were quite intelligible to the same demons. This period of Eliot's life was in interesting contrast with his earlier position, when, as a Cambridge stu dent, he had pored over the classics, among the JOHN ELIOT. 337 grand old trees and buildings of an English Univer sity, and, in the words of a later son of the same ac ademical mother, had Heard in college fanes The storm their high-built organs make. And thunder-music, rolling, shake The prophets blazoned on the panes." ¦ Now the simple chanting of a few pilgrims and half-tamed Indians, in a mud-built, straw-thatched church, were the accompaniments of his labors. Or, seated in his rude manse, he became the pupil of a wild Pequot, rather than of the learned professors of his youth, and slowly and painfully possessed himself of the sense of the rough jargon uttered by his sav age teacher. Not that the uncontaminated Indian was a savage in the sense that the gross, treacherous, and ferocious South-sea cannibal is, but only such in the arts of life ; for the original lords of North American soil were as true-hearted and gentle as children, except when roused to warfare by wrongs, or by the politics of their jealous sachems and powaws, who, like their counterparts in every nation, were corrupted by power, and ever on the alert to preserve their selfish interests. When excited to violence in these ways, the sons of the wilderness were quite as false, subtle, and blood-thirsty as their refined conquerors. The uon and the lamb — the animal and the angel, dwelt together in their nat'ire, as in that of all men, and O 22 338 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. either could be so awakened as to prevail over the other element. Eliot was forty-two years old when he entered on the work of unfolding the truths of Christianity to the natives. He had seen much of them in their inter course with the colony, and had become friendly with several. They expressed a desire to live like the Eu ropeans, with whom they believed their people Avould be wholly mingled in a hundred years. Of course, their wish to be taught respecting the true God, as ha^ been always proved in their case, had too little spiritual development to include other than mere out ward advantages, which they hoped the teaching would immediately bring; and then, as ever, when they found it brought small present profit, no meat and drink, there Avas danger of a reaction in their minds. But Eliot rightly improved their inquiring state of intellect, and made an appointment to meet them on the twenty-eighth of October, 1646, on the hills of Newtown, Massachusetts, Avliich are now in the suburbs of Boston, and daily passed by crowded trains of the Western railway. Here the first civilized set tlement of Indians was afterwards made, and known as Nonantum. In company with three friends, Eliot, as a messen ger of Heavenly Love, pushed through the oak woods, red with the flush of October, dark with fragrant pines, and bright Avith gaudy, autumnal flowers. The clear, cold air kindled the pulse of his high purpose, and when, from openings in the forest, he looked afar JOHN ELIOT. 339 over Boston, with its leafy hills and smoky villages, and, beyond, over the islanded bay, Avith its lone lit tle vessel or two, and the distant sea, lost in purple haze, he thought, perhaps, not of a future metropolis that would cover the whole scene with roof and sail, but of the time when the whole land in sight would be a cultivated garden, where the red man and white man should live in neighborly and equally enlight ened communities. On their way they were met by Waban, who was called " chief minister of justice," among the Indians, and had, more than any other, exhibited an encoura ging spirit, having, of his own accord, offered his eldest son to be educated by the Christians. In his wigwam the natives were assembled to hear the religious ser vice. This was commenced by an English prayer, inasmuch as Eliot was not familiar enough with their language to use it with freedom in devotions. For the preaching he had made more preparation, and had the assistance of an interpreter. He took for his text the words of Ezekiel, beginning, " Prophesy unto the winds," &c., words which seemed providential, the name of the foremost Indian, Waban, signifying " wind ; " the text having been selected with no ref erence to the coincidence, and the .'esult being that Waban became a very constant and active believer. The ten commandments, the outline of scriptural his tory, and the first truths of the Gospel, were the sub jects of the discourse, which, according to the custom of the time, was an hour and a quarter long, yet Avas 340 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. listened to by the heathen audience with attentive curiosity and varying emotions. It was a noble scene — this learned man and influential divine, in a wig wam of coarse mats, standing up in a little company of wild hunters and Avarriors, dark in feature and soul, explaining to them the sublimest truths in the sim plest terms and illustrations. A narrative, written at the time, speaks of it as a breaking of the pre cious alabaster box, in the gloomy habitations of the unclean. When Eliot had finished his message from God, the simple, child-like, yet often shrewd, audience plied him with questions, such as these : Whether God could understand prayers in the Indian language : whether He would be offended with the good child of a bad pareni : how the earth had become so full of people since the flood. In reply to Eliot's ques tions, they seemed to have no great difficulty in un derstanding the invisible and omnipresent nature of God, and to be aAvare of the guilt of sin, and of the immortality of the soul. Upon parting, they ex pressed a strong desire to erect a permanent village, and to avail themselves of the teachings to which they had intently listened. Eliot left them cheered and hopeful, and gained the good will of the little t)-oop that always enlivened an Indian encampment, by judiciously distributing gifts among them, reserv ing a present of tobacco for the old men. Two weeks afterwards the same scene Avas re peated, though, now, the questions of ^he natives JOHN ELIOT. 341 were, whether an old man could repent : how the Heavenly Father came to be more known to the English : how he might be served, ¦ — points that were appropriately described by the relation of father and child. They also Avishcd to know why the ocean is salt and does not overfiow the land, if the worid be a globe ; likewise, if a thief, having made restitution, would be exposed to Divine penalty. During the closing prayer, in their own language, one of the In dians wept, being convinced by the truth. Conver sation with him, and interest in those who clustered about him, eager to know tho virtues of the " living water," detained the devoted missionary till sunset. The next Saturday night, a native brought his own son and three other young children to Mr. Eliot's house, to be retained and educated in the English faith ; and soon afterwards the Indians offered all their children for this purpose. Skillful and frugal as his good wife was, it was impossible to tafte all the wild little savages of the tribe into his own abode, by no means spacious ; yet he knew, with the Eo- manists, that children are the great hope in estab lishing any system of faith — a truth, like the air, or daylight, so familiar that few think of its amazing importance. The establishment of a school was im mediately agreed upon. The results of Eliot's first year of labor were highly satisfactory. The winter proved favorable to his ex cursions through the forest, for it is singularly re corded by him, that no snow fell, and no sharp 342 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OP AMEEICA. weather Avas experienced. Thus favored by Provi dence, he improved the time /SO assiduously, that, in the following spring, the Indians, under his direction, built the village of Nonantum — a name that signi fies "rejoicing" — thus happily commemorating the success of the Gospel among them. They passed laws for themselves, to promote virtue and industry ; and erected huts of bark, with separate rooms. Eliot supplied them with spades and other tools, and gave them a sixpence for every rod of ditch or wall which they finished with their own hands. Among other changes instituted by their revered teacher, was the cutting of the scalp-lock, in which the Indian takes great pride. The ridicule and laugh ter of their unsubdued companions was the result, at which they much complained. That they bore it, however, was then esteemed a great proof of the power of the Gospel. With his unfailing good judgment, Eliot saw that social order, with its habits of cleanliness, labor and a sufficiency of comforts, is indispensable to the suc cess of a spiritual reformation. The experiment which a living and no less worthy apostle is now making in the dens of city iniquity, was then triumphantly made, in other ways, by Eliot. " By his direction, they fenced their ground with ditches and stone walls, some of which were remembered by persons in the latter part of the last century. Their women partook of the spirit of improvement, and became ^ skillful spinners, their good teacher, himself, taking pains to obtain JOHN EDICT. 345 wheels for them. They began to experience the stim ulating advantages of traffic, and found something to carry to market in the neighboring towns. In tho winter, they sold brooms, staves, eel-pots, baskets, and turkeys ; in the summer, whortleberries, grapes, and fish ; in the spring and autumn, strawberries, cranber ries and venison. In the season of harvest, they some times worked on wages for their English neighbors, but were not found to be hardy or persevering la borers." Hearing of this singular settlement, a sachem came from Concord to behold the wonder with his own eyes, and to hear the new faith which had been adopted by his brother warriors. He was deejjly impressed by Eliot's teachings, and so pleased with the new village that, upon his retum home, he organized a similar one, afterwards known as Washobah, and which was often visited by the never-tiring apostle. These, with other similar communities, soon became known as " praying Indians," family prayer being a universal custom with them, whether they had met with any marked religious experience or not, as, indeed, it should be in every household that acknowledges the true God. The various well-ordered hamlets were noticed by the General Court, which established a quarterly tri bunal at each village, authorizing the Indians to try certain cases of misdemeanor among themselves. The Synod of churches, also, became interested in the work, and invited the converted natives to join an as- 344 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. semblage of that body at Cambridge, in June, 1647. The reverend dignitaries of the church, even in those times of starched formality and stately procedure, already deemed the enterprise of such importance that they sat in company with the half-reclaimed and half-clothed reamers of the wilderness and their wild- eyed children, listening to a sermon from Eliot, in the heathenish language, and, like the grand old Doctors in the Jewish Temple, when the youthful Jesus ques tioned them, hearing the many inquiries proposed, as usual, by those bronzed warriors, who were yet infants in divine knowledge. How to know the good from the bad ; wiy God did not give all men good hearts, and why he did not kill the devil ; Avhy the good are afflicted ; what becomes of children after death ; whether the ignorant shall be punished ; if the soul could escape from a case of iron a foot thick,^ — were questions often proposed^ and would perplex unintelligent minds at this day. Their shrewdness often excited a smile, and theii quick perception of inconsistency required peculiar watchfulness and wisdom on the part of their teacher. Many anecdotes are chronicled, which exhibit Eliot's ready tact and good sense in meeting the diffi culties of his work. The son of a sachem, with whom a treaty, which, vastly unlike modern treaties, included the Ten Commandments, had been made by the col ony, would not repeat the fifth — to "honor thy fa ther," &c., because his father compelled him to drink a wine then called sack The son was rebuked for JOHN ELIOT. 345 irreverence, and the sachem publicly lectured for his conduct towards his son. The result was, that both were brought to penitent tears, " the subduing spirit of love bursting forth in the bosom of the savages, like a beautiful wild-fiower from the cleft of a rock," or like the first tenderness instilled into the heart of poor " Topsey " by the love of gentle " Eva." The sachem subsequently caused much trouble by his va riable moods. It was to him that Eliot affirmed his resolution to do God's work, so fearlessly that the wild chief cowered into meek assent ; and when, still later, his ambition and avarice, as a sachem, led him to new plots against the missionary work, he was again over whelmed by a public lecture. All complaints and evils were carefully investigated by Eliot, so that the arrows of his kind rebuke usually hit the center of the mark. The way in Avhich he met the physical and moral wants of his uncivilized disciples, was at all times praiseworthy, and may convey lessons to later gene rations. When they were discouraged from devo tional duty by their ungodly brethren, who told them that no better clothes and corn were gained by pray ing, but much pleasure lost, he held up his little finger and thumb, showing that there are little blessings, such as clothes, homes, food, and great blessings, such as heavenly wisdom and eternal life. Having succeeded so well thus far, Eliot deter mined to extend his labors. Near the Merrimac Eiver, lived Passaconaway, a chief of great power, O* 346 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. who was acknowledged as a superior by many sa chems. He was already old, and is said to have lived to the age of one hundred and twenty years. He was considered a powaw of extraordinary skill, his sub jects asserting that he could make a green leaf grow in winter, put the trees into a dance, and set water on fire. This chief, Eliot, with several English friends and converted Indians, visited, in 1647. Up on their approach to his domains, Passaconaway fled, leaving his people to receive the comers as best they might, and it was not until the following year,that he could be persuaded to listen to Eliot's preaching. That indefatigable laborer took advantage of an an nual gathering of his tribe at a great fishing-place. While at the height of noisy carousal, Eliot appeared among them unarmed, and almost unattended, but with an undaunted presence, that effectually checked any hostile purpose. His situation called for rare courage and wisdom ; coming, as he did, to proclaim new doctrines, and to overturn their long-established and cherished customs. But with an air of fatherly authority, he hushed the multitude and gathered them about him. Seated in a half-circle, under the arching trees, they maintained a respectful silence ; even the obstinate chieftain was constrained to submit to the apostle's sudden and skillful coup d'etat, and, like certain other royal personages, heard a new and unpal atable code of laws expounded to his people. At first he listened with dogged suUenness, but ere long the heart-felt eloquence of the earnest teacher thaAved the JOHN ELIOT. 347 icy case into which he had gathered himself, like a snail in its shell. A furtive glance, now and then, betrayed his awakening interest, and soon, forgetting his desire to conceal it, his eyes were fixed upon the speaker, and tears were chasing over his furrowed cheeks. When Eliot closed, he avowed his solemn purpose to practice prayer, and urged his sons to fol low his example. At parting, Eliot distributed various gifts among them, to conciliate their good will, which he had cer tainly gained already ; for, as he was mounting his horse, a poor Indian timidly put in his hand a penny worth of wampum. He gratefully received it, " see ing so much hearty aff'ection in so small a thing." Passaconaway, afterwards, strongly urged Eliot to come and live among his people, using this uncom monly refined argument in support of his entreaty : "You do," said he, " as if one should come and throw a fine thing among us, and we should catch at it earn estly, because it appears so beautiful, but cannot look at it to see what is within ; but if you will stay with us, and open it to us, and show us all within, we shall believe it to be as good as you say it is." The good man acknowledged that the gospel needed to be heard oftener to be understood, but, considering his Nonan tum disciples were best fitted to form a center of influence, he deferred the subject, though his at tached proteges, Avilling to obey him in anything, of fered to abandon their present site and go to the pro posed region. 348 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. Eliot was never idle. He traveled from one of his Indian stations to another, fearless of the dangers of the wilderness, and boldly passing through regions he knew to be peopled by disaffected Indians, or to be the scenes of cold-blooded murders. On one occa sion, notwithstanding the prudent advice of his Eox bury charge, he traversed a large and wild section of country, penetrating to the center of the present State of Massachusetts. It was enough for him to receive a message from an unseen chieftain, desiring him to bring tidings of his God. Nothing could prevent his prompt assent to such an invitation. Finding him res olute, several friends accompanied him on this long, weary journey, during which, as was often the case in his excursions, " from Tuesday to Saturday, he was never dry. At night he would pull off his boots, Avring the water from his stockings, and put them on again." The rivers were swollen by the rains ; and, as the men made their way through them on hoiseback, they were still more wet. Eliot's horse failed fron: exhaustion, and he was obliged to let him go without a rider, and take one belonging to another person. But he says, with his usual cheerful piety, " I consid ered that word of God : ' Endure hardness as a good soldier of Christ.' " Another of his principal tours was to Yarmouth, on Cape God, where a council of churches was invited to harmonize certain difficulties. Eliot was too full of unflagging zeal to lose so good an opportunity to do his chosen work, iind, accordingly, gathered the JOHN ELIOT. 349 natives who frequented the level, sandy meadows and pine woods of the cape. But he found their dialect so different as to prevent the ready communication of truth, and was further impeded by a fierce sachem, called by the-English, Jehu, who sent his subjects off to fish, at the hour of religious service. Another sa chem and his followers, however, consoled the devo ted evangelist by their good attention. Some old traditions were brought to light on this occasion. An old Indian said, in substance, that " the very things which Mr. Eliot had just taught concern ing the creation, the nature of God and his com mandments, had been said years ago by some old men among them, who were now dead, and since whose death, all knowledge of these doctrines had been lost, till then revived. Their forefathers once knew God, but fell into a heavy sleep (or forgetfulness), and when they aAvoke, they had forgotten him." One of the Indians related a wonderful dream, which he had be fore the landing of the English. He saw " a multi tude of men coming to that region, dressed in such garments as he now found the English to wear. Among them was one man all in black, with some thing in his hand, which he now discovered to be a book. The man stood higher than the rest, and as sured the Indians that God was angry with them, and would destroy them for their sins." A pestilence was raging at the time of the dream, to the destruction of many natives. The tradition and the vision can be explained by the fact that a French ship had been 360 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. wrecked on that coast thirty years before ; the crew were saved, and with them a priest, but nearly all were massacred. One of the number lived long enough to instruct them, and threatened them with destruction from God, who would give their land to another nation. The fatal plague, after the stranger's death, seemed a partial fulfillment of the prediction, and impressed it upon their minds. Meanwhile the small beginnings of civilization at Nonantum, went encouragingly on. Fruit-trees were sent from England for the plantation, and frequent sums of money bestowed both by the colonists and by the friends at home, for the purchasing of tools and implements of labor, and for obtaining teachers for the children's school, which " came on very pret tily." Eliot obtained proper tools for the new work men, with great difficulty ; so much trouble did he experience in this respect, that he was obliged still to postpone his favorite plan of a model Indian settle ment. The docile savages had, nevertheless, leamed to saw boards and planks, and had accomplished much ditching and fencing. Accounts of these efforts reaching England, much interest was excited among the pious and benevolent, which resulted in the formation of a society. An act for its incorporation was passed in Parliament, and read in all the pulpits of England and Wales, where collections were also taken up, though Avith little success. The Society was slandered, and at the res toration of Charles IL, its very existence was eudan- JOHN ELIOT. 851 gered; but it was preserved; a new chaiter was granted through the infiuence of Baxter, Eobert Boyle and the Earl of Clarendon, and a large fund was finally raised to pay salaries, support schools, sup ply implements, found an Indian college, and print Eliot's translation of the Bible, together with other books. While all this was being accomplished, Eliot suf fered many discouragements. Conceited persons, who had taken no pains to visit the scenes of religious op eration, and had taken their impressions of the red men from the thievish loiterers around the English towns, returned to England and disparaged the whole work, in the way that many now libel the missionary enterprises. The powaws and sachems created near er trouble. They grew more desperate in their ojopo- sition to the new religion, as they saw their hitherto absolute power decreasing before the light of truth ; for it is always the fact that " neither in the splendid palace, nor in the cabins of the forest, is man willing to resign arbitrary power, so long as he can hold it" Some of the sachems banished the " praying Indians " from their tribes, and, as was affirmed, in some cases put them to death. Eliot, however, withstood the sorcerers and sagamores to the face, knowing they feared both his calm courage and the power of the English, and trusting, at all events, in the protection of God. More than once, he declared to them that he was engaged in the work of God, that he did not 852 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. fear all the sachems in the country, and they might touch him if they dared. Added to these discouragements, the expected sup plies from England did not arrive. Believing it to be a judgment from Heaven, Eliot appointed a day of fasting and prayer. This long-wished assistance arrived while they were keeping the religious appoint ment, and was joyfully received as an answer to their prayers. Eliot saw his hopes at last about to be realized. The means, so earnestly prayed for, were now his, to execute his chief design of gathering the scattered con verts to a central spot in one fiourishing settlement, at a distance from the English. With this in view he rode into the country, to inspect a proposed site for it ; and, with that most reasonable reliance upon Pro vidence in the least transaction, he stopped on his way, and, selecting a lonely spot, distant from the beaten path, he prayed for Divine direction. Soon after, he met a few Indians who recommended to him the place afterwards called Natick. This meeting and advice proved so fortunate, that he rightly con sidered it as truly an answer to his prayer as if he had been selecting a site for the'capital of a power ful empire. Natick signifies "a place of hills ; " and is eighteen miles south-west of Boston, on Charles river. To this spot the Indians of Nonantum prepared to remove. Their first work towards it was throwing a foot-bridge across the stream, eighty feet in length, and nine feet JOHN ELIOT. 353 in height at the center. This accomplished, they com menced building the village, Avith much enthusiasm. "Their town was laid out in three streets, two on one side, and one on the other side of the river. Apple- trees were planted, and grain was sowed. A house- lot was assigned to each family, and it is said that some of the cellare upon them may be seen at the present day. They built a circular fort, palisaded with trees, and a large house in the English style, the lower part of which was to be used for public Avor- ship on the Sabbath, and for a school-room on other days, while the upper part was appropriated as a wardrobe, and as a depository for valuable commod ities. Part of this room Avas partitioned off for Eliot's use, and there he had a bed." The house was built entirely by the Indians, with the exception of one day's work by an English carpenter. Wigwams out numbered frame houses in the settlement, as the red men were not yet free from their inherited and long- indulged taste for a simple, rude life. It was a ruling idea of Eliot, as of the Puritans generally, that all human laws should be copied di rectly from the Bible ; and in order to find civil laAvs recourse was had to the book of Moses. The good man, therefore, rejoiced that, while other nations, in his own words, would be unwilling to lay down the imperfect star-light of their laws, for the perfect sun light of the Scriptures, the Indians would yield to any direction from the Lord, being simple in heart and customs. " They shall be wholly governed by 23 351 DISCOVEEERS ,\Nn PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. the Scriptures in all things, both in Church and State," he said ; and he added, " Oh, the blessed day in England, Avhen the Word of God shall be their Magna Charta, and chief laAv-book, and when all law yers must be divines to study the Scriptures." Agreeably to these views, the people of Natick, like the Israelites, were divided into hundreds, fifties and tens, each number with a ruler — those over the tens being called " tithing-men." A day of fasting and prayer was appointed, when the natives entered into a solemn covenant to observe the form of goA'- ernment The day was spent in religious exercises conducted by them, as well as by Eliot. The new converts expounded the Bible so well that Governor Endicot and others, who visited Natick not long after this fast-day, were pleasantly surprised at the clear ness and beauty with which they explained the para bles of Christ. Lips that, until within a few months of that time, had been used to the war-whoop and the language of earth only, now uttered the gentle teachings of heaven ; woods that had resounded only to the wind, the thunder, the cry of the wild beast and of the hunter, now echoed the words of christian exhultation and resounded with sacred hymns. Mr. Wilson described a psalm translated into the Indian language as sung " in one of our ordinary English tunes melodiously," and speaks of the Indian preach ing as marked Avith "great devotion, gravity, decen cy, readiness and affection." The visitors were par ticularly struck with the excellence of the foot-bridge, JOHN ELIOT. O.IO which, to the delight of the builders, had endured, while one constructed by the English in the A'icinity, had been swept away by the floods. They also no ticed the European drums, skillfully made by the natives, and used, as in the white settlements then, to call the people to all public meetings. The wisdom of preparing and employing native teachers to spread the gospel among those of their own blood, was deeply felt by Eliot, and much effort was used to this end. One of these had learned to write correctly and became a schoolmaster at Natick. Some were sent to the Narragansets and other tribes, to proclaim the truth, and met with some encourage ment. A company of Indians from Martha's Vine yard, who had accepted the white man's faith, visited Eliot's especial disciples and were then flrst aston ished at the strange, new sympathies inspired by Christianity. " How is it," they said, " that when an Indian, whom we never saw before, comes among us, and we flnd that he prays to God, we love him ex ceedingly ? " The ready apostle improved the oppor tunity to illustrate the principle of Christian love fur ther, by mentioning the efforts made in their behalf by the friends of religion who lived thousands of miles off, across the great sea. Industry and piety were now fairly planted at Natick, and were putting forth the flowers and fruits of moral beauty, amidst all the wild loveliness of nature, and the untrained simplicity of man. In the rich words of a late writer, " As we pass, in fancy. 356 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. out from the brick walls, narrow streets, and inter rupted landscape of civilized life, with Avhat imposing greatness bursts upon our thought the form of the un adulterated savage, with his eye like an eagle's, his ear like the startled faAvn's, and his step like the pan ther of the wilderness. This is not sensualism, but the perfection of the sensuous nature ; it is the human form in harmony with untroubled streams and un broken forests — belonging, in no mean relation, to the picture that is arched by the receding heavens. But, graceful as power, agility, freedom, are, we in stinctively feel how low a phase of humanity it is, compared with the intellectual vigor of the sage, or .the moral princedom of the saint." Tlie mind and soul of the Indian had begun to unfold under the as siduous labor of Eliot, and his roving habits were slowly crystallizing into civilized forms. Even the young children, accustomed hitherto to bound Avith the wild antelopes, over their unlimited play-ground, and, in view of eternity, almost as soulless as their untamed pets, listened, like the child Samuel, and obeyed the calling voice of God. One infant angel of the wilderness, when offered its toys, Avhile upon its death-bed, replied in sweet words, Avhicli seem al most an inspired song : " I will leave my basket be hind me, for I am going to God ; I Avill leave my spoon and tray behind me, for I am going to God." The little one was laid in the grave, without the beads, the shells, the wampum, and the food which the j-earning affection of the Indian mother had al- JOHN ELIOT. 357 ways placed beside her dead, thinking to supply its wants when wandering without her in the spirit world. The missionary's message had given her courage and peace, in consigning her tender child to -the arms of Christ. The superstitious burial customs ¦which Eliot sought to set aside, need no comment, when the equally heathenish practice now so exten sively exists in our beautifully designed cemeteries, of ornamenting the graves of children with the shoes, stockings, baby-bonnets, dolls, tea-sets, and rocking- horses, which occupied their busy lives. The year 1661 is memorable in the annals of New England, for the publication of Eliot's Indian transla tion of the NeAV Testament; this, and the Indian Bible prepared by him, and printed two years afterwards, were the first published in the New World— the print ing of the English version being then a monopoly privi lege in England. This most arduous work of transla tion had extended through fifteen years, before Eliot could offer to the Indians a copy of God's word, in their oavh tongue. The language was Mohegan, which, in its many dialects, was spoken by all the ab origines of New England. The first complete edition of the Bible, numbering fifteen hundred copies, cost over two thousand dollars. Out of his own limited means, Eliot saved some funds to this end, although the expense was chiefiy borne by the society in Eng land. A printing-press was sent from London for the purpose ; and, for a long time, only an Englishman, a boy, and an Indian, named James Printer, Avere 358 DISOOVTSEEES ANO PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. employed on the work. Copies of the first edition^ beautifully bound, were presented to King Charles, and to distinguished men in the old country, among them Eichard Baxter, who said, " Such a work and fruit of a plantation was never before presented to a king." Copies are very rare, one or two be-ing in the library of Harvard College, and containing, besides the Testament, a catechism, and the Psalms of David, in Indian verse. The great number of copies printed, shows the wonderful extent of the missionary work in this country at that time. One of Eliot's works occasioned much disquietude in the colonies about this time. In the enthusiasm of Cromwell's revolution, he had written a book en titled " The Christian Commonwealth," which con demned the institution of kings, lords, and commons, as unchristian, and probably set forth his idea that the Bible is a complete political statute-book, no less than a spiritual revelation. On the restoration of Charles II. , the New England colonies, already ob jects of jealousy to the royalists, Avere alarmed lest Eliot's book would prejudice their interests with the king. The council at Boston condemned it, and de manded of its author a recantation of its sentiments, which he yielded to. Eliot, like other men, had his faults and weaknesses, although his qualities were re markably noble and symmetrical. His failings seem to have been the assertion of opinions, hasty or vision ary, in civil matters, and his apjoarent inconsistency xn a no less ready retraction of such , opinions. It is JOHN ELIOT. 359 one of the brightest virtues to confess immediately an error ; but if the fearless man, who trembled not at the threats of passionate sachems, Avas still convinced of the truth of his book, it appears a little strange that he so quickly cancelled it Doubtless his abju ration Avas from the same motives of expediency that infiuenced the council, and with a more particular anxiety for his Indian missions, which were supported by the mother country, and dependant on a renewal by the king of the charter of the society for their promotion. The uninformed are liable to think of Eliot as an obscure man, who wandered about with some vaga bond tribe, during a few years, and not as the truly great leader of a great Christian movement, of Avhich he was the main-spring, for some forty years. The difficulties of his work, from first to last, were inces sant and extreme — especially in translating the Bible. Besides the work in his own parish of Eoxbury, his journeys and preaching, his poverty, and a large family to care for and educate, he had to contend with a language poorly adapted to the expression of religious truth and civilized ideas, without a gram mar and dictionary. An amusing instance of his em barrassment is related. The best word he could get from the Indians to express the term " lattice," in a passage of Scripture, after trying to describe it to them, was one which he subsequently found to be a name for the wicker baskets, used in catching eels ; thi'ough this, the mother of Sisera was made to look 360 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. for the coming of her son. The translation, generally, was, doubtless, very correct, and at last quite per fect; but it is sad to reflect that no person now living can read it. Yet, though both the language and those who spoke it, are long since dead, the Indian Bible was the bread of life to we know not how many souls now shining in Heaven. On earth it is an eloquent monument of a perseverance, industry, and pure zeal, never surpassed. In the words of Ed ward Everett, " Since the death of the Apostle Paul, a nobler, truer, warmer spirit, than John Eliot, never lived ; and, taking the state of the country, the nar- roAvness of the means, the rudeness of the age, into consideration, the history of the Christian church does not contain an example of resolute, untiring, successful labor, superior to that of translating the entire Scriptures into the language of the native tribes of Massachusetts." Besides the Bible, he translated several works for the use of his Indian people, and published a gram mar, to aid the study of those who might wish to car ry out his benevolent designs ; this work, together with the Mohegan Bible, has been found very valu able, of late, in the scientific investigation of language. One of his smaller works was an " Indian Logiek Primer ; " but it Avas not easy for the savages to be come expert in logic and theology ; they readily ap prehended the simple truths of the gospel, as famil iarly illustrated by Eliot, and their unsophisticated hearts were, perhaps, all the better fitted to receive JOHN ELIOT. • 361 that divine illumination which is often blinded by scholastic words and systems. The Indian could not step directly out of loose ways of thought and life, into exact, methodical ones ; yet he could pass from one'belief of the heart to another. A converted chief said of this, " I have been used, all my life, to pass up and doAvn in an old canoe ; but I now give myself up to your advice, enter into a new canoe, and do en gage to pray to God, hereafter," — a striking figure to which one of the company present, added, that in the old canoe, the stream was quiet, but the end destruc tion, and, in the new one, storms might overtake him, but the end would be everlasting rest. In 1673, and the following year, the noble and venerable apostle of the Indians journeyed through the wilderness from one station to another, there be ing fourteen in Massachusetts, beside those in Plym outh, Nantucket, and Martha's Vineyard. This last journey of Eliot's was full of rich satisfaction to his ardent, enthusiastic soul. As, from time to time, he met the glad faces of the thirty -six hundred Christian natives, whom he had been instrumental in rousing from the thralldom of superstition and sin, he felt his courage and energy revive, and, forgetting the bur den of laborious years that already enfeebled his steps, promised himself the joy of reaping a still greater harvest for his God. Hymns of gratitude went up from the forest sanctuaries, like sweet incense, and the eloquent voice of the aged and beloved teacher rang from the hiUs, with the tidings of love and mer- 362 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. cy which he could bring to them no more. The man na which he thus scattered among his eager listeners, served to strengthen them for the hard trial to which God was soon to subject their faith. The settlement and church of Natick were espe cially endeared to Eliot, as being the first embodiment of his favorite idea. Five churches beside the one established there, were the result of his untiring zeal ; and to provide for their future welfare, he had indu ced two of his savage proteges to be educated at Har vard University, thus leaving no means untried, of thoroughly enlightening and highly cultivating the Indian race. These two pupils, however, were not destined to fulfill his design. One of them was wrecked and murdered at Nantucket, and the other died of consumption, soon after graduating. The name of the latter is recorded, on the catalogue of the college, as Caleb Cheeshohteaumuck. Notwithstand ing these melancholy events, the effort to educate the natives was continued. A brick building was erect ed at Cambridge, with accommodations for twenty Indian students. But it proved of little avail. The young Mohegans lost their athletic, robust nature, when taken from their roving life in the woods, and subjected to the close garments and staid demeanor of civilization, or found the change too sudden from wild, free thought, to the drill of study. Thus they either pined and died like caged birds, or sickened in heart and fled back to the enticing delights of the forest hunting-grounds. It was not then ap- JOHN ELIOT. 363 predated that barbarism and civilization are in the blood, and the one can only be shaken off, and the other assumed, by the slow operation of education and grace in several generations. But the labor of years was destined to be suddenly arrested, and, in a great measure, defeated. King Philip's war — a general onslaught of the unevangel- ized India^'^s — burst forth, and threw every thing into confusion. The particulars need not here be re counted. The colonists, fllled with a mad spirit of revenge and fear, and not appreciating either the faith or friendship of the Christian natives, broke up their half-civilized towns, and carried the innocent popu lation to islands near Boston, where they were con fined, lest they might take part with Philip. They suffered deeply from disappointment, insult, and pri vation ; some of them, at Wamesit, were shot by a party of the English, who unjustly charged them with burning a bam. Thus debaiTcd from the sympathy of the race for whose faith they had deserted their own people ; ar rayed against those to Avhom they were connected by the strongest natural ties, yet rejected and abused by their adopted brothers, who should, rather, haA'e pro tected and encouraged them, it remains to the Avorld an indisputable evidence of the true effects of the gospel, that they, almost without exception, exhibited a rare spirit of Christian endurance and forgiveness during those times of severe trial for which Eliot had uncionscously prepared them, in his last, unmolested 364 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. tour through the wilderness. None, in whose piety he confided, renounced their faith ; none but a few of the less instructed natives at new stations, joined the enemy. Many of the friendly ones were of great service to the English in carrying on so unaccustomed a kind of warfare. But confidence between the white and the red men was never restored ; the ardor of an incipient work of civilization and conversion was thoroughly chilled ; but few praying villages were reestablished, and the prosperity of the missions was at an end. A great hope for the Indian race was for ever blasted, although many were then strengthened and purified in heart by the fire of affliction. Eliot consoled his old age and disappointment by writing a life of Christ, and by endeavoring to rescue the captive Indians, who had been sold into West In dia slavery — an iniquity that aroused his whole in dignation. He was encouraged by the hope of a successor, in the person of a young man who had devoted himself to the cause of the beloved natives. In a letter, written when he was eighty-four years old, after making the touching declaration — "I am draw ing home " — he speaks hopefully of the great object to which his life had been a living sacrifice. He was gratified, also, in assisting to ordain an Indian teacher, who survived the death of Eliot twenty-six years, and whose grave-stone is now part of a stone wall near the church in South Natick, in the vicinity of which place, a wretched hut, occupied by several persons of mingled Indian and negro blood, is all JOHN ELIOT. 365 that is left of the once flourishing settlement of the devout children of the forest. Eliot was in advance of the times, in reforms, for he had very few supporters of the pure principles he vigorously exemplified in his own life, as well as preached to others. It was the universal custom in the colonies, to partake of spirituous liquors in a moderate degree. Eliot was often urged to refresh his weariness with the sparkling contents of the wine glass. He invariably refused, for, said he, " wine is a noble, generous liquor, and we should be humbly thankful for it, but, as I remember, water was made before it." He also waged a continual war against tobacco, and the use of great, white wigs, though he lived to see many orthodox ministers, in the words ¦ of Cotton Mather, " ruffle their heads in excesses of this kind." Notwithstanding this opposition to the favorite prejudices of those with whom he mingled, he was generally beloved and respected, the more deeply for attaining to that simplicity and purity of life which they had not sufficient self-denial or strength of will to adopt. As the greatly good man grcAV more infirm, he re linquished his pulpit duties, but was still cherished by his people, who assured him that his presence was worth more than gold. His strong frame tottered, and his kind eyes grew dim, but he was a sunshine in all the homes of the village. He was an old soldier of the cross, full of love, a peace-maker, and wise in 366 DISCOVICEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. counsel. Still looking for some good work to do, ho interested himself in the neglected negro servants, and persuaded many families in the vicinity to send them to him once a week, for instruction. He also took under his care a blind boy, and taught him to repeat chapters of the Bible. A beautiful and noble picture! — this silver-haired apostle of the Indians who had performed so great work, literary, missiona ry and parish tasks, who was one of Ncav England's most influential, early divines, and had traversed a wide wilderness with unwearied perseverance for thirty years, now seated, in cheerful old age, teaching a poor, blind child, and a little company of despised Africans. As death approached, through no disease but the natural failing of his powers, he said, "Alas, I have lost every thing ; my understanding leaves me ; my memory fails me ; but, I thank God, my charity holds out still ; I find it rather grows than fails." As often in pious old age and death, his clear views of truth grew clearer and brighter. It was a peaceful depart ure, with a long, sunny recollection of duty done, and the heaven of humble faith to await. The cause of the poor Indian la,y heavy upon his heart, though he expressed a strong hope that the cloud Avhich obscured his ardent work, would pass away, and leave the good seed to spring up with fresh vigor Avhere it had been so ruthlessly trodden doAvn. How different was the cry of " welcome joy ! " with whi.;h he beheld the angel of Death, from that of tho JOHN ELIOT. 367 anscrupulous pioneers who had labored for fame in the forests of the Ncav World, and Avho submitted to the eternal summons, either in sullen silence or Avith a wail of despair and fear. They gloried in dia monds and pearls, which were a glittering mockery in the death-hour — Eliot awaited his jeweled croAvn in another life, and, in imitation of his Saviour, made peace and good will to man his only strife in this. He died in 1690, aged eighty-six years. But two of his six children lived to mourn his death, and his wife had preceded him to the grave, after a long and useful pilgrimage with him. The Indians, to whom Eliot had been a tender father, and a generous friend, wept for his departure, and the English so reverenced him that they had a tradition that the colony could not perish so long as the good man lived. He was equally esteemed in England. Baxter, upon his death-bed, said of him, " There was no man on earth whom I honored above him." X. WILLIAM PENN. In the times of Charles H., the country-seat of Ad miral Penn was the resort of many distinguished men and noblemen. The charm lay not in the broad fields, the wooded dells, and velvety laAvns, that made Pennwood rich in beauty ; nor even the spacious old Hall of ancient and curious architecture, that told many a tale of olden times ; neither did the luxuri ous style that prevailed at Pennwood form the chief attraction ; for, in these respects, it could not com pete with the princely homes of the neighboring no blemen. But in the magnetic charm of its home cir cle, it exceeded them all. There was a frank cor diality in the greetings of Admiral 'Penn, that con vinced one of sincerity ; and a cheerful, varied, in telligent tone in his conversation that made the hours pass quickly. He was firm, even to obstinacy, as was evinced in his career ; but the noblest trait of char acter was an unyielding integrity — a rare quality in a public man, and one which, though often trouble some to his compeers, secured universal respect and confidence. With devoted affection, he reverenced his lovely wife ; and, though he did npt sympathize AVILLIAM PENN. 369 with her deep piety, he appreciated and respected what he saw daily shine forth in her life with beauti ful consistency. Her mild and affectionate temper, with the simple elegance of her manner, won her many warm friends among the worldly and fashiona ble, who might otherwise have avoided her, as too re ligiously strict. To the care of such parents was given an only son, William Penn, who was born in 1644, in London. In his younger years he was left almost entirely to the guidance and instruction of his mother ; the ocean- life of the admiral occasioning long seasons of ab sence. But when again reunited, heart-happiness dwelt in the family circle, as they gathered round the cheerful fire that crackled and blazed on the old, broad hearth, throAving a warm glow over the apart ment. The admiral would sit by the hour, in the fiicker- ing light, and answer the eager, thoughtful questions of his idol boy. He could not resist the coaxing, lov ing tones, and he gazed with pride upon the child's beautiful, rosy, dimpled face, as he sat at his feet, or upon his knee. Sometimes he told him of the ocean, and the great battles he had fought on the wide wa ters, and grew enthusiastic as he recounted his ex ploits, painting them in such life-like colors, that the child shuddered and paled as he heard of the wrecks and awful storms. Or, when the story dwelt upon an instance of injustice and cruelty, the blood rushed to his cheeks in a burning tide, and his eyes sparkled p* 24 370 DISCOATERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. with indignation. Then he listened to the tale of battles, when amidst fire and smoke, and the thunder ing of cannons, came the death-shrieks ; or of a ship with its soldier-seamen, tom limb from limb, and hurled high in the air ; and then, amidst frightful suf fering, sinking forever in the blood-stained waves. Tears of sympathy and grief rolled over the cheeks of little William at the recital, and amid his sobs he cried — "When I'm a man, I'll never kill people so." The admiral raised his brows at the unconscious rebuke, and he folded the little peace-boy in his arms, to still the storm he had awakened. With returning smiles brightening his face, the child fiew to his mother, who, near by, had watched the emotion of the child, and regarded it a fruitful source of instruction. That gentle, pious mother ! With what watchful care she moulded the young heart entrusted to her keep ing ! With what prayerful devotion she attuned to pleasant tones, the little harp God had given her ; for with such gifts comes the power to awaken harsh dis cords, or beautiful harmony. But William's educa tion was not neglected by the admiral, when at home, for he also strove to instill high and honest principles into the mind of the child. It is related that William was roaming the fields one day, Avhen he found one of his father's tenants, a poor man, named Thomas Pearce, hard at work with his cart, having been called to assist in some emer gency. William was very fond of Tom, and he was WILLIAM PENN. 371 troubled when he saw great drops rolling down the laborer's cheeks ; so he ran with haste to the admi ral, saying — " Father, ain't you going to pay poor Tom Pearce for working so hard for you ? " " What makes you ask that, William ? " " Because, father, I think you ought to pay him." " Why so, my son ? " " Because I don't see why he should work so hard for nothing." " Well, I dare say, William, I shall pay him." " But, father, if you don't pay him money, I '11 tell you what you ought to do." "What, my son?" " Why, father, if poor Tom comes to want any work done, you should send your wagon to help him." " My cart you mean, William, for you see I have only his cart." " Yes, father, but your wagon is not so much larger than his cart, as you are richer than poor Tom." " God bless my son ! " cried the admiral, embra cing him ; " I hope you '11 be a brave, honest-hearted Englishman, as long as you live." The proud father had high hopes for his son, and his favorite castle-building was to fancy the rosy- cheeked boy transformed to a man of eminence and distinguished talent, filling Avith honor the most influ ential posts in the realm. Time traveled not so fast as the admiral's imagination, for William was yet in his ninth year. At this period he was sent to a gram 372 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. mar-school at Chigwell, near one of his father's es tates, and selected by his mother, because it was con ducted by a clergyman of eminent piety. The reli gious instructions of his mother were not forgotten during his absence, but were treasured with reverence, as the earnest injunctions of her he so well loved. At the age of fifteen, William entered Oxford Col lege, with bright prospects. He quickly became a general favorite, both on account of his brilliant tal ents, and his many noble qualities, and soon received the highest honors of the University. His cho sen companions were of the same serious bent of mind with himself; among them was John Locke, who remained a faithful and tried friend throughout the vicissitudes of Penn's life. These young men, hearing of a Quaker meeting about to be held, de termined to attend, partly from curiosity, as the name of the preacher, Thomas Loe, was given, without any pompous titles attached, which were so universal in those days that a departure therefrom caused sur prise. The appointed time came, and found AVilliam in the place of worship. He looked with no little as tonishment upon the plain apartment, and still plain er people that filled it, so different from the estab lished church, to which he had ahvays been accus tomed. Nor was his surprise lessened when he be held in Thomas Loe, " a plain, fleshy, round-faced man, in a broad-brimmed hat, a drab coat of the hum blest cloth aud cut, and a close, snug neck-cloth, all shining, clean and neat." AVDJ^IAM PENN. 373 At first, Penn's attention was fixed by the simple quaintness of his language ; but soon, the sincere, touching words that fell from his lips in eloquent ap peals, went searchingly to his heart ; and as he lis tened, he was sure the way was appointed to him of which he had long been dreaming — to lead a simple, pure life, in the service of his Maker, and for the good of his fellow-creatures. Again and again he sought the Quaker meeting-house, and listened to the affectionate and fatherly teachings of Thomas Loe. His conscience was fully awakened, but his course undecided ; and in his perplexity, he went to one of the learned divines of the college. He laughed at his " fanaticism," and bade him " keep to the good, old church, hear sermons, and take the sacrament, and all would be well." William obeyed the direc tions, but his conscience could not be silenced ; he was more dissatisfied than ever with the formal ceremonies of the church, and the worldly, fashiona ble throng who professed to worship God. Again he returned to the Quaker meeting, and de termined to adhere to their principles, despite the sneers and scorn of his fellow-students, and the world at large. He, and a few of his companions, held meetings by themselves, and adopted a plain mode of dress. Their absence from public service was no ticed by the professors ; upon learning the cause, they were immediately summoned before the faculty, and " for assembling themselves together to worship God contrary to law," were severely fined. More serious 374 DISOCJVEREES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. consequences followed their newly-awakened ardor. One day, they met a few gay young men of the col lege, who were attired in a foppish, extravagant style, or, as some have it, in the long, black gowns, pecu liar to the forms of England. Penn and his friends expostulated with them, and advised them to dis pense with what was unbecoming and unchristian. In return, receiving only derision and contempt, they forgot their Quaker principles, furiously rushed upon them, and tore the dresses from their shoulders. They were speedily called to account, and, among others, William Penn was formally expelled from college. Unwilling that the mortifying news should reach his parents from other lips than his own, he hastened to them with a heavy heart. He arrived at Penn wood, and presented himself with a firm, but troub led air. How great was their astonishment to behold their son before them in a full suit of Quaker drab, and a broad beaver concealing his fine brow ! His usually cheerful face was clouded, but he stood with meek aspect in their presence. With exclamations of surprise, they gazed upon him. "What does this mean"? What is the matter? Why are you here ? " were the hasty inquiries. He replied with determined calmness, " I am expelled from college ! " The admiral started from his chair, his face flushed with anger, and to his eager questions of the why and wherefore, William answered — WILLLAM PENN. 375 " Why, sir, it was because I tore their dresses from the shoulders of some of the students." " You tore the dresses ftom the shoulders of the students ! Why, God's mercy on my soul ! what had you to do Avith their dresses ? " "Why, father," answered William, "their dresses were so fantastical and unbecoming to the dignity of EngUshmen and the society of Christians, that I felt it a duty to my country and conscience to bear my testimony against them ; and, moreover, I was as sisted in it by Eobert Spencer, John Locke, and other discreet youths of the college." " Well, thank God ! thank God it 's no worse," ex claimed Mrs. Penn. "You are thankful fo small favors, madam," was the admiral's sharp rejoinder. A long discussion ensued, which only excited the admiral, and in no way altered the opinions of young Penn. His father's patience was exhausted, and, full of disappointment and anger, he exclaimed : " Here 's a pretty ending of all the bright castles I 've for years been building in the air for this boy ! A lad of genius — getting a complete college educa tion — the only child of a British admiral — great friends at court — the high-road to preferment all ahoy before him, and yet determined to turn his back on all, and live and die a poor, despised Quaker ! Why, God's mercy on my soul, boy ! you, Avho might have been among the first in the realm ! If to the army, a general ; if to the navy, an admiral ; if to 376 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA, law, a chief justice ; if to medicine, a court physician ; to divinity, a bishop or lord primate ; and now, with all these grand prizes under your guns, you will haul down your colors, and, in a three-buttoned drab, and broad beaver, go sneaking about the world, or sit, twirling your thumbs, at a silent meeting, with Tom Loe, a superstitious blockhead, no more to be com pared with one of our learned divines, than a Dutch cock-boat to a British line-of-battle-ship ! " William attempted to expostulate, but his father angrily interrupted him with — " Harkee, young man ! I know yoa have a clear head and a fluent tongue ; but in such a cause as this I don't wish to hear them. All I have to say is, let me know to-morrow if you will go back to the Uni versify, and do as I desire, or not ; and, take notice, sirrah, if you do not, you are no longer a son of mine, and never again shall you darken my door." Mrs. Penn looked on with painful emotions ; and she now accompanied William, to use her influence with him. But she could not rebuke the pure Chris tian sentiments that seemed to breathe from his inmost heart, although clothed in a new aspect. She did not, therefore, attempt to persuade him to relinquish his adopted religion. His determination was flxed. The next morning, Avhen summoned to his father's presence, to give his final decision, he replied to all entreaties with char acteristic firmness, yet with the meekness of an hon est Quaker, that " he had turned his thoughts to the WILLIAM PENN. 377 light within ; and that Avhile he felt, with exceeding affection, how much he owed to his earthly father, he owed still more to his heavenly, and, therefore, could not offend Him, by sinning against the light, and endangering his own soul." " Well, then, you will not go back to the estab lished church," replied the admiral. '1, While my present convictions remain, I can never leave the Quakers." "Then, sir," rejoined the admiral, in stormy wrath, " you must leave me ; " and ordered him to quit the .house instantly. He obeyed without words, and went immediately to his grandmother's, according to his mother's ad vice ; for she well knew the result. William re mained but a short time at the elegant mansion of his excellent, pious relative ; for his father had not enjoy ed a moment's peace since his harshness tOAvards his idolized son. He had paced the fioor for hours, and angered, and wept even, at the sudden downfall of his plan. With a faint hope of influencing his son, he recalled him, to the great joy of the whole household. Hearing that a number of young men of rank were about making a trip to Paris, he proposed that Wil liam should accompany them, and remain long enough to acquire the French language ; but, with a secret hope that a sojourn with, a gay and fascinating peo ple, would wear off his exceeding gravity, as well as conquer his "fanaticism." William acquiesced, and 378 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. was soon generously fitted out with a wardrobe of the richest materials, though, as he insisted, of " plain fashion." Abundantly provided Avith money, and let ters to distinguished men, he set out, with his pleas ure-seeking companions, for Paris. Being naturally of a warm-hearted disposition, and always exerting himself to give others happiness, he received with keen pleasure the kindness and little at tentions, which the French know so well how to be stow. Their poAvers of pleasing, so skillfully exer cised, delighted him, and he soon participated in the festivities of the capital, with as much zeal as his ' father could desire. "He learned their language with the facility of a mocking-bird ; he caught their manners by instinct ; his limbs forgot their proud, British stiffness, and his muscles their cold, unlovely rigidity ; and whether he bowed or smiled — in stand ing, moving, boAving, or smiling, shone forth the ele gant and all accomplished Frenchman." A year passed in a round of fashionable dissipation, to the great delight of his father ; for he now felt there would be no obstacles to his son's advancement. Joyful preparations were made for his return to Penn wood. Distinguished and mirthful guests were invi ted to the Hall, to participate in the continued fes tivities, which were to follow his arrival. He came at last. Never, in the moments of his proudest vic tories, did the admiral feel such emotions of pleasure, as when he greeted his long-absent son, and beheld him transformed into an elegant, accomplished young WILLIAM PENN. 379 man. The noble and intellectual expression of his countenance was relieved from severity by a smile of tenderness and benevolence, which, added to a bril liant mind and graceful manner, flnished by a Qua ker sweetness, made him a welcome guest in the cir cles of fashion, as well as of the cultivated. Mrs. Penn's ambition for the worldly success of her son was more than gratified, and she had long felt a deep anxiety lest the promising piety of his youth had fled Avith his boyhood. The admiral saw it, but took good care to keep William constantly occupied ; and, at the earliest moment, hastened to introduco him at court, and to his most illustrious friends. Not long after his return from France, he was ad mitted as a law-student at Lincoln's Inn, where he re mained till his twenty-second year. During this time, his society was courted, and most flattering attentions were paid him, but in no wise detracted from the sim plicity of his character, nor caused him to swerve from the pure principles which had grown with his growth. But the admiral was continually fearful lest he should fall into his " old gloomy ways " again ; and, therefore, upon inheriting a large estate, near Dublin, immediately determined to commit its man agement to William. This step, to his great chagrin, proved the occasion of his finally adhering to the cause of the Quakers. He soon set out for Dublin. To insure him a vari ety of dissipation, the admiral provided him with let ters from court friends, introducing him in most flat- 380 DiscovEPrrs akd pioneers of America. tering terms to the Lord-Lieutenant of Dublin, and others of ranis Accordingly, he received uncommon attentions from distinguished families, both on ac count of his talents and his rank. He paid strict at tention to the improvement of the estate consigned to his care, and spent his leisure with the lord-lieuten ant and his friends, till one evening, while perusing a Dublin paper, his attention was caught by a notice that " one of the people called Quakers was to preach in the market-house the next day." He determined to attend the meeting ; for his partiality to the sect had never decreased, though he had for some time conformed to the established church. What was his surprise to behold in the speaker, the kind and placid countenance of his old friend, Thomas Loe, and the good Quaker was no less pleased to see his familiar face, though alarmed to see him attired in fashionable dress. Every word spoken by the preacher went to his heart and conscience, and his old desire for a simple, pure religion, like the one urged to his acceptance, returned with new strength. At the closing of the meeting, an interview took place, the result of which Avas his continued attend ance upon the meetings ; he conformed to the doc trines with a flrmness of purpose never again shaken. He relinquished all intercourse Avith the Irish nobil ity, and completely altered his life. The Quakers were, at this time, strongly persecu ted. On one occasion, Penn, with a number of others, was arrested at a meeting in Cork, and car- welllam penn. 381 ried before the mayor, who committed them all to prison. By the influence of his Irish friends, Penn was soon released. News of his return to the Quakers, and his impris onment, quickly reached his father. He was instant ly remanded home by the enraged admiral. He promptly obeyed the summons, but with a heavy heart; he well knew the storm of opposition that awaited him. As he journeyed homeward, he com muned with the " inward light," and gained strength to endure the trials before him. He knew, in follow ing the promptings of his conscience, he would be banished from his father's house, and must go forth to the world, poor, neglected, scorned, persecuted. But he remembered for what he gave up all ; and a holy zeal bumed in his heart, and beamed in his countenance with serene happiness. It was thus he reached the beautiful home of his boyhood. A mournful sadness clouded his joy, as he gazed upon the wild, rich scenery that sut rounded him, and look ed with dimmed eyes upon the familiar old Hall, so vividly recalling the days of his youth - — ¦ feeling that he would soon be a wanderer from that loved home. And his mother ! oh, his beloved mother ! How he dreaded the pain such a separation would cause them both ! He paced back and forth beneath the spread ing elms, and strove to subdue the struggle which had roused the whole soul of his deep affections. " Oh, God, not my will, but thine, be done," was his prayer ; and, after silent meditation, those pain- 3S2 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. ful emotions were calmed, and once more, with a radiant countenance and light step, he sought his parents. There he stood : William Penn, in his quaint Qua ker garb, amidst the luxury which might have been his own. His mother uttered an exclamation of joy, embracing him with the deepest affection. The ad miral did not move ; he stood with folded arms, and flushed face, eyeing his offending son, from his wide beaA'er to the plain shoe, with contemptuous looks. " And so Tom Loe has taken you in tow, and made a fool of you again, eh ? " was his greeting, at last. A discussion followed, full of anger on the admi ral's part, but eliciting only calm replies. Mrs. Penn listened with anxious solicitude. Tears of joy filled her eyes, and her heart overflowed with gratitude to God, that strength was given him to endure eA^en persecution, in obeying the dictates of his conscience. " My son," said she, " I weep not for any crime that you have committed, but rather for joy of your innocence, and honest adherence to what you think your duty." What consolation those few words gave him ! Days and Aveeks passed, and still the admiral strove, by every inducement, to conquer the firmness of Will iam's convictions, but in vain. He could not bear to drive him away, and would have conceded to his plain speech, dress, and deportment, if he would but con sent to uncover his head in the presence of the king, the Duke of York, (afterwards James II.) and himself; -WILLIAM PENN. 383 but finding WilKam unyielding, even in this, he no -onger restrained himself, and, in a storm of passion, ordered him to leave the house forever. He obeyed, and with sadness in the parting, said — " Father, if I had been turned out of doors because of any crime I had done, I should be wretched, in deed. But thanks to God ! I go away with a con science unstained by any act which should cause you or my dear mother to blush for me." He bade his noble mother a tearful farewell, and as he departed from them, they listened to his foot steps till they died away in the distance, feeling an oppressive loneliness which tears could not relieve. From that hour, the admiral lost his jocose spirits, and became restless, fretful, and gloomy. His ambi tion for his only son had been bitterly disappointed, and he knew not how to find peace, for even the sad countenance of his wife reproached him. Hoping for relief in the excitement of public action, he sought the honors of victorious battle, and ventured upon the sea in searcn of a happiness he no longer enjoyed in the once cheerfui home at Pennwood. Meanwhile, young Penn repaired to London, and became a member of the Society of Friends. He employed himscii for some time in defending their doctrines by writing ; but soon an offensive article appeared from ms pen, Avhich caused his immediate arrest, and imprisonment in the Tower. His cheer fulness did not lorsake him there. With pious resig nation, he endurea all the sufferings inflicted upon 38 ± DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. him. Even his harsh jailor was won from his preju dices, when, in return for his rudeness, he always re ceived a kind remonstrance. His hardness of heart was penetrated, and long before the seven months of Penn's imprisonment expired, he learned to respect the stern integrity of his prisoner, and to look with awe and admiration upon his serene and youthful countenance, ever beaming with purity and benign love. There was music in his simple language, and the gentle " thee " and " thou " fell with such soothing tones upon the ear of the rough guard, that, in spite of his hatred to the sect, he often sat and listened to the mild teachings of the persecuted Quaker. The admiral was still absent ; but Mrs. Penn, upon hearing of her son's imprisonment, ordered her car riage, and hastily proceeded to London. When she arrived before the dark walls of the prison, her soul sickened with the thought of seeing there, among a host of criminals, her innocent and only child. She followed the shuffiing steps of her guide through the gloomy corridors, and up the winding staircase, with a heart beating with sorrow and indignation. She shuddered as she passed by the cells of the poor, hard ened wretches, who had almost forgotten there is a God; and when her way led through apartments crowded with men, women, and children, placed there because of their peculiar religion, she could not re strain her tears of grief and sympathy. Almost overcome by conflicting emotions, she reached the sought-for place. The key rattled in the rusty lock WILLIAM PENN. J" 8 5 and the iron door swung heavily back. There younc Penn sat, near the high, grated windoAv, occupied as diligently with his pen and studies, as if free ; but, upon beholding his mother, he sprang forward, and received her with an affectionate embrace. When her calmness was restored, anxious inquiries followed, to which he replied with so much cheerfulness, that she was comforted by the interview, and left him with a strong hope of soon obtaining his release. But weary months elapsed ere he gained his liberty. He was finally released by the king, at the instigation of the Duke of York, who entertained a friendship for the admiral. Penn was now restored to his father's good will. He very soon made a short visit to Ire land, to attend to the business of his estates. His leisure time was occupied in visiting and preaching to the imprisoned Quakers of Dublin and Cork, whose liberty he soon obtained through the influence of his various friends at court. He well knew how to sympathize with the many sufferers, for his own imprisonment was so frequent, that it is said, on one occcasion, when a flle of soldiers was ordered to guard him to the Tower, Penn sarcastically said to the judge, " Thee need not send thy soldiers, send thy boy ; I know the way." Not long after his return to England, he again felt the bitterness of persecution and injustice. The Con venticle Act had just been passed by Parliament, which prohibited Dissenters from worshiping in their own way. William Penn was one of the first victims ; Q 25 386 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. fur no ^aw or threats could deter him from Avhat he deemed his duty. He continued to preach, as usual, and, on going with his friends, to their meeting-house in Grace-church street, to perform divine worship, he found it guarded by a band of soldiers. A large number of the society being gathered, and not obtain ing admittance, Penn began to address them where they were. He had not proceeded far in his discourse when he was arrested, and, together with William Mead, a Friend, was sent to Newgate to await a trial. When the appointed day arrived, the court was crowded with au assembly, waiting eagerly the ap pearance of the prisoners. They entered Avithout re moving their hats, whereat one of the officers snatched them off. The lord mayor became furious at the act, and ordered them to be replaced, and then fined the prisoners forty marks each, for contempt of court. Being brought to the bar, the indictment Avas read, which, among other legal ¦ falsehoods, stated that the prisoners had preached to a " riotous assembly, and they had met together with force and arms, and this to the great terror and disturbance of many of his majesty's liege subjects." The prisoners plead " not guilty " to the charge. The witnesses, upon being examined, could prove nothing but that William Penn was seen speaking to an assemblage on a certain day, but could not tell Avhat he said, on account of the noise. It was also proved that Mead said something, but nobody could tell what. This Avas the substance of the evidence against them. WILLIAM PENN. 387 Penn defended himself so clearly and ably, that he baffled the wily recorder, who opposed him, in every point. Notwithstanding, the incensed court hurried away the prisoners to a loathsome dungeon, and pro ceeded to charge the jury. Penn, hearing part of the false charge, stopped, and loudly appealed to the jury and crowded assembly, to judge of the injustice and violation of laAV, in charging the jury in the absence of the prisoners. A murmur of approval ran through the close croAvd, but his daring incensed his persecu tors the more. He was ordered away with the rest, to strict confinement. The jury brought in a verdict of " not guilty," but were received with threats and abuse by the judges. Seven times they were sent out, and seven times they returned the same verdict. Not one of the twelve would yield his convictions, despite the brutal threats of the bench. Two days and two nights, they were kept Avithout any kind of refreshment ; but these up right men were neither to be starved nor frightened into the support of injustice. The greatest excite ment prevailed. Some abused, some applauded them. The rage of the judges was beyond control, yet the jurymen remained firm. Once more, a separate an- SAver was required from each, which being still un changed, the recorder addressed them : " Gentlemen of the jury : I am sorry you have folloAved your own judgments, rather than the good advice which Avas given you. God keep my life out 888 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. of your hands! But, for this, the court fines you forty marks a man, and imprisonment till paid." William Penn then exclaimed : " I demand my liberty, being freed by the jury." " No, you are in for your fines," replied the mayor. " Fines for what? "' "For contempt of court," was the short reply. Once more Penn defended himself with ability and strength. The spectators could scarcely restrain their admiration of his eloquence and talent, and those who were prejudiced against him, forgot their dislike in looking upon his benign and noble countenance, and in listening to his skillful defense, and exposure of the dishonorable proceedings. A thrill of sympathy re sponded to his appeal to honest-hearted Englishmen, and many beheld, with provoked ire, Penn and the unyielding j ury men led away to Newgate. How long the latter were suffered to remain, or what became of these men, whose names should have glowed in history, is not known. The admiral returned from sea with a broken con stitution, and suffering from a disease that was rapidly bearing him to the grave. He heard of his son's im prisonment with surprise. This, more than all else, served to blight his ambition ; for, after a life, and nearly his fortune, spent in the service of his king and country, that his only son should be thrust into prison like a common felon, when guilty af no crime but obeying his conscience, stung him to the quick, and he felt that the religion which could persecute with such WILLIAM PENN. 389 severity and injustice, could not be as pure and holy as the one which suffered and endured with cheerful firmness and meek forgiveness. His affections yearned for the presence of his loved son, and he longed to repair tho harshness and wrong he had done him. Penn's re .ease Avas soon obtained, and, for the last time, the family were reunited at Pennwood. The spirit of the proud father was bowed to the dust, and, now that worldly ambition no longer blinded him, he regarded his son's conduct in a far different light. What once seemed to him willful obstinacy, now proved to be a stern integrity, and a truthful heart which would in no way belie itself. Lie no longer refused to give his blessing ; and though he could not adopt the peculiar belief of his son, he regarded it with generous and enlightened views ; for a new. Christian fervor burned in his OAvn soul, and as death drew near, he wondered at the entire devotion of his life and talents to his king, rather than to his God. As his eyes grew dim and his voice faint, he thus ad dressed his son, whom he now loved with redoubled affection and new hope : " Son William, I am weary of the world ! I would not live my days over again, if I could command them with a wish ; for the snares of life are greater than the fears of death. Let nothing in this world tempt you to wrong your conscience. I charge you, do nothing against your conscience. So will you keep your peace at home, which will be a feast to you in tho day of trouble." S90 DISOOVEREES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEIOA. He sent, as a dying request, an earnest message to the Duke of York, to protect his son, and to ask the King to do the same, in case of future persecution, which Avas readily promised. The admiral died in his forty-ninth year, 1670, leaving to William Penn a handsome estate of fifteen thousand dollars per annum, besides a large debt due from the Grown. So far from appropriating it to lux urious habits, he continued his extremely plain style of living, devoting much of his fortune to the benefit of the Quakers ; often releasing numbers of them by paying the heavy fines imposed upon them. Once more he suffered an imprisonment of six months in the Tower; and, after his release, traveled several months through Germany and Holland, with the intention of disseminating more widely the doctrines of the Soci ety of Friends. William Penn was now in his twenty-sixth yeai Celebrated, not only as an author and preacher, but as a young man of rank, wealth, fine personal ap pearance, brilliant talents, and rare virtues — who had suffered imprisonment and sacrificed much for his re ligion — -no Avonder that his name rang far and near. The fashionable regretted the loss of such a star from their circle, and pitied his " fanaticism." Llis own sect reverenced him for his stern virtues, soul-stirring eloquence, and liberal sympathies with their suffer ings ; while the opposers of their religion most thor oughly hated and persecuted him. Lie was, at this time, well known by reputation to WELLIAM PENN. 391 Gulielma Springett, whom he married not long after his return from a European tour. She was the daugh ter of Sir William Springett, of Darling, in Sussex, who had fallen at the siege of Bamber, during the civil wars, in the service of Parliament. After his death, her mother married Sir Isaac Penington, an eminent minister and Avriter among the Quakers. She was, therefore, educated in their doctrines, and her character ever retained a sweet impress of them. Her face was very fair ; but, though beautiful in form and feature, she was still more lovely in disposition. Dig nity and simplicity were blended in her manner, and her cheerful, affectionate temper made her the attrac tion of her circle. Her home did not escape the sorrows of persecu tion. In her girlhood, she saw her revered step-father dragged away to prison, where he suffered close con finement for months, and was treated with extreme severity ; and she saw him waste away and die Avith a disease occasioned by the cruelty of his oppressors. But the lessons he gave were not unregarded, and those scenes served to strengthen and nerve her for greater trials, and taught her how to bring under con trol every passion of her nature. Such was the gen tle bride of William Penn ; and two minds and hearts never sympathized more perfectly. Their affection was unbroken and unchilled, till Death laid his icy fingers upon her heart, and stilled its beatings. Many years were lighted by the sunshine of her love, and the early days of their marriage, free frcm sor 392 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. row and persecution, were spent happily in their new home at Eickmansworth. However, Penn was not idle, here. He might now have been a gentlemen at leisure, with an ample fortune ; but his conscience ever called him to action. His time was spent in writing and preaching, till converts to his doctrine became so numerous in his neighborhood, as to alarm Eichard Baxter, who considered them a lost people, and entered into a public controversy with Penn. The following year, Gulielma Maria accompanied her husband to Bristol, where they unexpectedly met the celebrated George Fox, just returned from Mary land, America. Persecution still raged fiercely against the Quakers ; but Penn continued to preach as usual. He here parted from his friend, George Fox, who pro ceeded on his way home to his mother, then on her death-bed, but, having occasion to preach at Worces ter, was arrested and committed to prison, where he was kept for several months, till, through the inter cession of Penn, he obtained his release. In 1676, Penn accidentally became a manager of colonial concerns in New Jersey, which situation pro duced important results, as his mind was thus direct ed towards America as an asylum for the persecuted Quakers, though he did not immediately act upon the thought. Part of the next year was also occupied in managing the affairs of New Jersey. After this, he, in company with George Fox and Eobert Barclay, set out on a ministerial visit to Holland and Germany. He had received letters from eminent persons there. WILLLAM PENN. 393 urging his visit ; and, after some delay, bade adieu to his beloved wife and child, and also paid a farewell visit to his mother, who had remained at Pennwood since the death of the admiral. Penn and his friends finally set sail in a packet, where they were pleasantly accommodated, the Cap tain having served under Admiral Penn. After ar riving at their destination, and landing, they proceed ed to Eotterdam, and from thence to the chief cities in Holland and Germany, preaching and distributing books. At Horwerden, Elizabeth, Princess of the Ehine, held her Court. She had offered an asylum in her kingdom to the persecuted, and, being inclined to favor the Quakers, had invited Penn to visit her and explain the principles of their belief. The Countess of Homes, who lived with her as a companion, was also of a serious mind, and earnestly desired an inter view. Penn and his two companions repaired to the palace one morning at seven, and were received by the princess with such marks of kindness as deeply affected them. The habits of the princess were ex tremely simple. Early rising, with breakfast at seven, dinner at one, and supper at seven, were customs widely different from those of the aristocratic in mo dern days. Without ostentation or proud reserve, she appeared in her robes of state, which became her dignity without detracting from the good nature and overflowing goodness of heart, at all times manifested for the good of her subjects. She received her strange, but deeply-reverenced guests with frank cor Q* SI>4 DROOVEmCES AKO PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. di „i;ry, which at once secured their confidence and caso. file moming hours were spent in religious conversation ; after which, though invited to dine, they excused themselves and withdrew. In the afternoon they again returned to the palace, Avhere a number were assembled to listen to them. Quaker worship was held with much interest till seven in the evening, when they retired, but were in vited to repeat their visit the next day. They were not received till nine the following mor ning, it being the day on which the princess received addresses and petitions. A meeting was then held, which all the inferior servants of the household were ordered to attend. Penn gave a full account of his life, at her request, which occupied him till late in the evening, they having supped at the palace. The next and last day, another meeting was held, during which the princess was so deeply affected, that when she bade Penn farewell she could scarce find utter ance to her words. Penn, with his friends, continued their travels, of ten meeting with kindness, and preaching at every opportunity, and seeking out the religiously in clined. On making inquiries, they heard of a young countess, the daughter of the Graef or Earl of Fal chcnsteyn, who was severely treated by her father, on account of the religious bias of her mind. Learn ing that she spent her Sabbaths at the house of the minister of Mulheim, they hastened to see her, but arrived too late to find her. They wrote her a letter. WILLIAM PENN. 395 requesting to see her; to Avhich she replied, ",she would willingly meet them at her minister's house, but she was not her own mistress." Soon after this, as they Avere walking near the cas tle, the Graef came out and met them. Observino- their strange dress, he inquired who they were ; to which they courteously replied. As they paid no homage to him, his attendants asked — " Do you know in whose presence you stand ? Why do you not pull off your hats ? Is it respectful to stand covered in the presence of the sovereign of the country? " To which they replied : " It was their practice so to do in the presence ot their own sovereign, and they never uncovered their heads except in the performance of devotion to the Almighty." " We have no need of Quakers here," said the Graef; " get out of my dominions — you shall go no further." And, though they mildly expostulated with him, he ordered his soldiers to take them away from his borders. The soldiers left them to travel through a dreary wood of three miles ; after which, they reached the walls of Duyeburg, but too late to enter the city, the gates being shut, and were therefore obliged to re main in the fields till morning. They wrote a letter to the countess, encouraging her to continue in her belief, and endure with firmness the persecution o'JO DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEIOA. which had just begun. They also addressed a letter to the Graef, kindly expostulating with him, and wish ing him all good in retum for his unkindness. After three months thus spent in traveling and preaching, they returned to England, but not without a dangerous voyage. Once more united to his family, Penn enjoyed a few weeks rest from his labors. During the following years, 1678 and 1679, his time was fully employed in preaching and writing, in pub lic controversies, and the continued management of New Jersey. He had, for a long time, however, had his thoughts fixed upon securing a tract of land in America, to which the persecuted Quakers might em igrate and establish a form of government founded upon the strict principles ef justice, truth and love to all mankind. In a letter to a friend, he said " that he desired to obtain the new land, that he may serve God's truth and people ; that an example may be set up to the nations ; and that there was room in Ame rica, but not in England, for such au holy experi ment." Another object, too, which was predominant in his thoughts, was the conversion of the poor, wild Indians. A debt of sixteen thousand pounds being due him from the crown, he solicited its payment in a tract of land in America; and his petition to Charles II. for the grant of it, after great opposition, on account of his being a Quaker, Avas finally acceded to. The idea of " a colony of Quakers among the savages of Ame rica" was ridiculed, but gave way to the considera WHLLIAM PENN. 397 tion of disposing of a sect about whom they had , ,iven themselves so much trouble. The king gladly ac quiesced in the plan, not only to get rid of the debt, but to gratify Penn, for whom he had a high esteem. Upon hearing the news of his success, Penn hastened to the palace to make acknowledgments to his sove reign. King Charles sat in his royal robes, in his stately and gorgeous apartments. The heavy, rich hangings of velvet, the omamental gilding, the luxurious lounges, the soft, noiseless carpet — all gave an air of ease and majesty. A crowd of noblemen, in rich and elegant court dresses, surrounded the throne of the monarch, who from time to time received peti tions of his subjects, or turned with a light jest to some of his favorites. The low hum that ran through the circle was hushed as William Penn was ushered in their presence, and they quickly made way for his approach. Without kneeling, or doffing his hat, he gracefully saluted the monarch, while all gazed upon his extremely plain garb — plainer for the contrast with the showy trappings of royalty — and noted the Denignant and firm expression of his countenance, through which his soul gleamed in joyous emotion, so widely different from the traces of care, passion, and dissipation, that were strongly delineated in the face of the king. He was graciously received, and Charles himself delivered the deed to his respected subject, with a few conditions. Penn accepted it, with simple, grate 398 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. ful thanks. He hastened away, and with trembling hands opened the precious document ; and, to his sur prise, found his province named Pennsylvania, mean ing " the woody land of Penn." Too modest to ac cept the title, he hastened to the recorder, who hap pened to be a Welshman, and begged him to change the name. " Well, then, what name would hur like to give to bur province ? " "Ncav Wales," replied Penn. " But," rejoined the Welshman, " though hur should be well pleased to hear hur province called New Wales, yet hur has no business to alter the pre sent name." Penn offered him twenty guineas to change it ; but being still refused, he repaired to the king, who re plied that " he had given it a very good name, and should take the blame upon himself." Penn immediately published the liberal terms on which he would dispose of the land ; which, together with the freedom of religious worship, and the just and democratic principles upon which his constitu tion was founded, caused great numbers to deter mine to seek new homes in the Western wilds. Much excitement prevailed throughout Great Britain, and many of different denominations, confiding in the good name everywhere given to Penn, offered to share the good and ill awaiting them in the far-off land. Three ships, laden with adventurers, were soon sent- off, and the fourth, in which Penn was to sail, was VriLLIAM PENN. 399 nearly ready. Hastening to London, he paid a fare well visit to the king, and from thence returned to his wife and children. He Avas deeply pained to be so Avidely separated from them, and perhaps forever. But the constitution of the fair Gulielma was too frail and delicate, to attempt the hardships necessarily to be endured in a new home in the wilderness. With a tearful and tender parting, he bade them farewell, and committed them to the Almighty. Before leav ing port, he addressed them an affectionate and beau tiful letter, in which the spirit of love, hope, and faith, shone brightly forth. At length the ship Welcome set sail, and, Avith mingled emotions of pain and plea sure, Penn saw the shores of his native land fade away in the distance. But his spirit was brave, and fitted to battle with the obstacles that lay before him. After a voyage of six Aveeks, they neared the capes of Delaware Bay, and with shouts, and tears of joy, welcomed the sight of their adopted land. With wondering gaze, they looked upon the long, dark line of forest, and watched _,the narrowing bay till it be came a majestic river, its waters gliding peacefully on between shores covered with rich verdure, and in the distance the vast woods sweeping away in their unmolested grandeur, far as the eye could reach. The ship, with its joyous burden, glided over the quiet waters, till, in the clear sunlight, they beheld the lit tle town of Newcastle, nestled on the borders of a wide plain. As they neared it, the inhabitants gath ered on the shore and gave "--hem a heartfelt greeting 400 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OP AMERICA. With gratitude to God for their safe-keeping, they landed for a few weeks, and then resumed their voy age up the river. After sailing about forty miles, they reached a beautiful river, that, winding in graceful curves, poured its silvery waters into the Delaware, through a mouth nearly hidden in the high, waving grass. Therefore, the Dutch called it Schuylkill ; the Indian name was Manajung. A little further up the river the waters wound gen tly into a half-circle, leaving a mossy, green island on the right. On the other side, the shores were pleas antly elevated, and studded with huge old oaks that cast a wide shadow upon the sunny banks. Beyond, lay two Indian villages, close to the water's edge — ¦ one named Coaquanoc, the other, Shackamaxon, upon the site where Philadelphia now stands. Soon as the ship anchored, a boat was sent to the shore, Avhich was already crowded with the half- frightened natives. The interpreter delivered Penn's message, that he would have a " grand talk with his red brethren the next day, when the sun was at the half-way house in the sky." Accordingly, the next day, a great assemblage of Indian warriors and their people gathered to wait the coming of the pale-faces. Some stood in groups along the shores, watching with curious looks the great ship that had sailed up their river, like a giant swan ; while others brandished their Aveapons and' tried their skill in arrow-shooting. The adventurers ooked with keen eyes and trembling hearts upon WILLIAM PENN. 401 tlie strange, dusky forms that filled the woods in such Avarlike array ; but Penn with bold firmness en tered the boat that was to convey them to the shore, and was soon followed by his companions. Curiosity overcame stoicism, and the Indians crowd ed about the group of new-comers, examining their apparel with eager wonder ; for, though they had seen the Dutch settlers, they had never beheld the strange garb of the Quaker. They were taken by surprise, too, in seeing thena unarmed ; and, savage as they were, appreciated the bravery and good will Avith which their guests had thrown themselves among them, unprotected. Some weeks before, commissioners had preceded Penn, bought the land of the sachems, made a treaty of peace with them, and told them to be in readiness to ratify the treaty upon his arrival. The appointed time had come ; and as soon as they had welcomed " Father Onas," as he was styled, they repaired to a wide-spreading elm tree, that reared its rich foliage to a towering height, and threw its branches to a far- reaching circle, that shielded them completely from the sun. Beneath this old forest tree, the chief sa chem and Penn approached each other. Penn was distinguished in dress from his companions only by a light blue sash of silk net-work about his waist, and held in his hand a roll of parchment, containing the confirmation of the treaty of purchase and amity. On his right hand was his relative, Col. Markham, 26 402 DISC0VEEr:i:S and pioneers of AMEEICA, who was also his secretary, and behind him followed the remainder of his friends. Some presents and articles of merchandise were spread on the ground before therr.. The chief sa chem then bound upon his SAvarthy brow a chaplet, to which a horn was attached, and which was the emblem of superiority. Immediately the Indians dropped their bows and arrows, and in silence gath ered themselves around their chiefs, in the form of a half-moon, on the ground — the warriors in the front circles, the young men behind them in the same order, and further back the squaws and their children. As soon as stillness prevailed, Penn addressed them in an eloquent speech, full of benevolence and kind ness ; and when he had finished, he advanced, and placing the roll of parchment in the hand of the chief who wore the chaplet, he told him and his bro ther sachems " to preserve it carefully for three gen erations, that his children might know what had passed between them, just as if he had remained him self with them to repeat it." The chiefs pledged themselves to " live in love with him and his white children as long as the sun and moon gave light ; " and replied to his address in words which are indis tinctly brought to us, being transmitted only by tra dition. But the Avords of " Father Onas " Avere nev er forgotten, for the Indians were ever ready and elo quent upon the theme of his goodness. The treaty was sacredly preserved, and as late as 1722 was shown by several tribes to Governor Keith, at a conference. WILLIAM PENN. 403 Tlie old elm tree was always guarded from destruc tion ; and so much Avas it venerated, that, during the Eevolution, when the surrounding trees Avere cut down for fire-Avood, a sentinel Avas placed under this, that not a branch should be broken. But it was finally blown down, and the wood was made into cups and various articles, to be preserved as memorials. A monument now occupies the spot, but is referred to by an English authoress as " a neglected outcast." She says : " It is in a timber-yard, in the dirtiest suburb of the town, and looks like a gate-post, being a plain stone obelisk, about five or six feet high, with an inscription upon it." After the conclusion of the treaty, Penn went up the Delaware, to see a mansion, then building for him, under the direction of Colonel Markham. It was de lightfully situated on the banks of the Delaware, a few miles below the falls of Trenton, and upon a "treble island, the river running three times round it." The building was large, and neatly elegant, a spacious audience-hall being among its apartments. This wild and beautiful retreat among the woods and waterfalls, was called Pennsbury, and was intended for the home of his loved wife and children, when they should join him. He next selected the site of Philadelphia, the " city of Brotherly Love," upon the spot where the Indian villages stood. It was surveyed, and laid out in streets, which retain their names and places to tho present day. Busy hands toiled in the young city 404 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OE AMERICA. and soon house after house started up like magic, though rough and unseemly. Before tlie end of three months, twenty-three ships arrived, bringing more than two thousand persons, who were scattered throughout the province, and made hasty prepara tions for the approaching winter. Those who could not proA-ide themse.ves shelter, were obliged to dig caves in the banks of the river, and remain in these strange habitations till the opening of spring. But, freed from persecution, they were happy even there. rime passed on, and the city grew prosperously. Penn remained nearly two years, during which, peace, good-will, and prosperity, prevailed. But he soon received letters from England, urging his return, that he might use his influence at court in preventing the persecutions, which were more bitter than ever against the Quakers. Before leaving, he made trea ties with many tribes of Indians, and feared not to leave his colony unprotected, for he conflded in their friendship, and not without reason ; they looked upon him with a reverence and strength of attachment which never died out. Bidding farewell to the English, Dutch, and Swe dish settlers, who equally regretted his departure, he set sail in the ship Endeavor, for England, where he arrived after a voyage of seven weeks. Once more in tho midst of his family, after so long a separation, he enjoyed a short repose from his cares. Charles H. died at this time, 1685, and was suc ceeded by the Duke of York, his brother, who be- WILLIAM PENN. 405 came James II. This determined William Penn to renew his friendship with him, hoping to secure his leniency towards the Quakers, as he believed him to be a friend to liberty of conscience. Accordinglv, he removed with his family to Kensington, that he might be near the king. His time was almost en tirely employed in benefiting the Society of Friends, avoiding politics, except when called upon to use his influence in allaying some difficulty. He Avas so highly esteemed by James II. that none could so readily obtain access as himself, and there were none whose petitions were so readily granted. Thomas Clarkson quotes the following words of Gerard Oroese : " William Penn was greatly in favor with the King — the Quakers' sole patron at court, on whom ''he hateful eyes of his enemies were intent. The King loved him as a singular and entire friend, and imparted to him many of his secrets and counsels. He often honored him with his company in private, discoursing with him of various affairs, and that not for one but for many hours together, and delaying to hear the best of iiis peers, who, at the same time, Avere Avaiting for an audience ; for which they told him, Avhen Avith Penn he forgot his nobles. The King made no other reply than that ' Penn always talked ingeniously, and that he heard him willingly.' Penn, being so highly favored, acquired thereby a number of friends. Those who formerly knew him, when they had any favor to ask at court, came to, courted, and •iU6 DISCOVERERS AND PIONICEES OF AMEEICA. entreated Penn to promote their several requests. He refused none of his friends any reasonable office he could do for them ; but was ready to serve them all, but more especially the Quakers. Thus they ran to Penn without intermission, as their only pillar and support, who always conversed with and received then cheerfully, and effected their business by his interest and eloquence. Hence, his house and gates Avere daily thronged by a numerous train of clients and suppliants, desiring to present their addresses to his majesty. There were sometimes tAvo hundred or more. When the carrying on of these affairs re quired money for writings, he so discreetly managed matters, that out of his own, which he had in abun dance, he liberally discharged many emergent ex penses." The king's extraordinary favor towards him brought him many bitter enemies ; and even those whom ho had kindly assisted, joined in the cry now raised against him, of being a Papist and Jesuit. His Avide views of liberty of conscience led him to defend the Papist as readily as the Quakef ; and therefore he was suspected, even by his own sect, of endorsing their opinions. His intimacy with the king, who was considered a Pajoist also, led the mass to believe their united intention Avas the subversion of the re ligion of the kingdom. For more than a year the hue and cry continued ; but these suspicions were re moved Avhen, by his constant efforts and persuasions, he finally obtained from the king a public proclama- WILLIAM PENN. 407 tion, granting liberty of conscience to all sects, and liberating from prison all who had been confined on account of their religious belief About fifteen hun dred Quakers were thus restored to their families, some of whom had been imprisoned for years. During several succeeding years, various causes combined to render Penn unpopular, and he was un justly accused on repeated occasions. In 1688, James n. Avas obliged to abandon the throne and flee to France, and was succeeded by William, Prince of Orange. Penn regretted the loss of his friend, and during his exile continued a correspondence with him, Avliich gave rise to suspicions of a conspiracy. His letters were intercepted, and he was twice ar rested and brought to trial, but no proof whatever could be obtained against him ; and his candid and eloquent defence secured his release on both occa sions. He now retired from court, and returned to Worminghurst with his family, where his time was spent in the occupations of his ministry. Finding himself free, he now turned his thoughts to America, and* commenced preparations for a voy age, intending to take his family with him. This Avas not to be. The cup of bitterness had been but tasted — he had yet to drain it to the dregs. But he de pended upon his God ; and his strong soul, that had so long struggled for freedom, though bowed low, Avas the more purely chastened, and remained unbroken through the long struggle. He had nearly finished his arrangements for the 408 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. voyage, when he was arrested by a proclamation, which included others of rank, as conspirators in fa vor of James IL, and issued in consequence of an ex pected invasion by the French. Penn was thrown into prison, and, after some weeks, being brought to trial, was honorably acquitted, as before. Once more he continued his preparations for going to America, and had appointed a day to sail. At this time George Fox died, and Penn being present at the funeral, addressed nearly two thousand persons, who were assembled, thus paying the last respect in his power to his deceased friend. His enemies were not idle ; for, even while attending the funeral, me's- sengers were sent to arrest him, on a charge brought against him by a person named Fuller, who after wards proved to be a cheat and imposter. With suppressed emotions of pain and indignation, at this unjust charge, Penn sent his ships, already la den with emigrants, to Philadelphia, but he himself was obliged to remain behind. His affairs in Amer ica were greatly entangled during his long absence ; and as he had been constantly expeilding his fortune for the benefit of his province, without receiving a farthing in return, he began to suffer embarrassments in consequence. But he was obliged to submit to a prolonged absence, being unwilling to leave England with a stain resting upon his character. For more than three years he remained in complete retirement, having taken private lodgings in London. During these years, sorrow upon sorrow continued to crush WILLIAM PENN. 409 ' him to the earth. Banished from society by false charges, obliged to continue absent from his disor dered colony, unable longer to advance means for its imp^ovement, the government of it taken from him by the king, his hopes of establishing a model state defeated, the displeasure of many of his own sect in- .curred without just cause, and, more than all else, oppressed by the near approach of his wife's death — none but a Christian, and a man relying upon his own innocence, could have endured such an accumulation of affiiction with mild and hopeful resignation. Sitting by the bedside of his dying Avife, in a plain and obscure retreat, and endeavoring to infuse his own hope and cheerfulness into her mind, so bur dened with anxiety on his account, he received tho glad news of his complete restoration to society, and the removal of all charges against him. Joy and sor row were mingled then, during the last hours of his beloved companion. Peacefully and happily she breathed aAvay her life, and her pure spirit fled to its joyous home without a cloud shadowing its departure. Penn returned with his three motherless children to their former home. He remained with them for a length of time, during which he employed himself in writing, and in the exercise of his ministry, having been completely reconciled with his Society. He was more venerated than ever by them, and they en deavored by every method to recompense their for mer unkindness and injustice. The succeeding year, 1694, the govemment of Pennsylvania was restored R ¦410 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA; to him by King William, in an honorable and grati fying manner. For two years longer he continued preaching, writing, and exerting his influence at court, for the benefit of the Quakers. In 1696, he married Hannah Callowhill, the daugh ter of an eminent merchant of London, who belonged to the Society of Friends, and returned to Worming-. hurst, where his family had remained since the death of their mother. A new trial awaited him here. His eldest son, Springett Penn, then in his twenty-first year, who had long been suffering from disease, died a few weeks after his return. His genius and uncom mon virtues had made him very dear to his father from childhood, and his striking resemblance to his mother, in person and character, caused his loss to be more deeply felt. Penn was little from home during the same yeai, except on the occasion of a visit to the Czar of Mus covy, afterwards Peter the Great, then on a visit to England. The Czar was very curious to know why the Quakers did not take off their hats, /md of what use to their country a people could be who would not fight. He was so mucK interested in Penn's explana tion of their doctrines, that, whenever opportunity offered, during his travels, he attended Quaker meet ings, and commended their views, by saying that "whoever could live according to such doctrines, would be happy." In 1699, Penn once more made preparations to re turn to America. Taking his wife and children, ho AVILLIAM PENN. 411 embarked at the Isle of Wight, and after a tedious voyage of three months, and an absence of sixteen years, he arrived once more in the land where his hopes and aims were centered. He was welcomed with acclamations of joy. Proceeding to Philadel phia, he immediately called the Assembly, and has tened to restore order to the government, which had gone sadly amiss during the long years of his absence. The severity of the season allowed but a short session. Penn, therefore, with his family, retired to his home at Pennbury, that stood alone on the banks of the Delaware, amidst the luxuriant forests, whose still ness was yet unbroken by the busy sounds of civili zation. King Charles and his courtiers would not have wondered now at his audacity in carrying his Quaker principles ¦ even among the wild savages of America, if they could have beheld the strange and uncouth, but sincere, expressions of joy and gratitude, with which the Indian warriors greeted their unfor- gotten " Father Onas." He received the sachems in the audience hall of his mansion, and rencA^'cd the treaties of years gone by, Ayhich, though not ratified by an oath, were faithfully kept. They told him they " never first broke their covenants with other people ; for," as said one of them, smiting his hand upon his head three times, " they did not make them there, in .their head ; but," smiting his hand three times on his breast, said " they made them there, in their hearts." Time and trouble had whitened the flowing locks of the venerated Penn, but peace and thankfulness light 412 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. ed his face, as he rested in his o^d oaken arm-chair, amidst the Indian chiefs gathered around him, with their rude but generous offerings, and welcoming him to the land of their fathers ; and his heart beat quick and high with the hope of bringing them to Chris tianity and civilization. He gratified them, too, by returning visits, and witnessing sports, and partaking of their simple food, while seated upon the mats and highly wrought feather mantles, which they spread in honor of his presence. , He never mingled with them without leaving the " good seed of the word." Their gratitude and affection knew no bounds, for he had treated them with kindness, and given them equal privileges with the other people of his province. The second year after his arrival, he made arrange ments for the benefit and protection of the Indians and negro slaves. A few of the latter had been im ported in 1682, soon after the planting of the colony, and continued to be brought. In 1688, the Quakers, at a yearly meeting, resolved " that the buying, sell ing, and holding men in slavery, was inconsistent with the tenets of the Christian religion." They, therefore, began to treat them differently, considering them part of their own families, giving them religious instruc tion, and admitting them to worship in the meeting houses with themselves. Penn, during this second stay in America, in order to secure the welfare of the slaves and their final freedom, by a legislative act, drew up bills to that effect, and placed them before the Assembly. But, to his surprise and disappoint- AVILLLAM PENN. 413 ment, the Assembly refused to pass them. After two years of constant effort to improve his co^ ony and benefit the. Indians, he received letters from Eng land, which informed him of jealousies existing there, and of an intention of dissolving the A'arious govern- ments in America, and bringing them under the en tire control of the king. But Parliament had been solicited to defer their proceedings till the arrival of Penn, " to answer for himself, as one of those whose character the bill affected." With deepest regret, Penn and his family took leave of his people, and with sorrow and anxiety, bade fare well to the Indian chiefs, who had assembled at Phil adelphia, to pay him a last visit — the news having gone far and near among the swift-footed race, that their white father was going away to-his own country. Assuring them he had done all in his power to se cure their welfare, and giving and receiving the prom ise of continued friendship, they exchanged presents, and parted. The Indians returned to their forest homes, in silent sorrow for their lost benefactor, amd Penn launched upon the deep, and left behind him the loved land he was never more to see. A voyage of six weeks brought him again to the shores of England. But, upon his arrival, ho found that the bill, which had caused him so much anxiety, had been dropped entirely, and, therefore, his voyage had been to no purpose. Queen Anno succeeded to the throne about this time. Penn was held in high esteem by her, and she 414 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. frequently held long conversations with him about his occupations in America. He now again resided m Kensington, but his time was mostly spent in writing, preaching, and publishing various works. In 1707, six years after his return from America, he was involved in a law-suit with the executors of his steward. Ford, who had deceived and defrauded him to a large amount. This was pending fbr a year or more, part of which time he was obliged to live within the rules of the Fleet ; which probably led Burke, in a speech of his, to state that William Penn died in Fleet prison. To get rid of this embarrassment, Penn Avas obliged to mortgage his province of Pennsylvania for six thousand pounds, which released him from his difficulties. In 1712, he resolved to part with his province, and off'ered it to government for the sum of twenty thousand pounds, being but four thousand more than the debt for which he had accepted it, Avhen it was an unbroken wilderness. His plan was not executed, however, on account of his serious illness. His last troubles had broken the spirit that had so long and so manfully struggled against the most severe- trials. Old age had come upon him, and stolen the vigor of his prime, and he could no longer battle with the storms of life. Apoplectic fits continued to impair his strength, and obscure the brilliancy of his mind. LIis memory became indistinct, and he could converse but upon the one subject of his God. Everything else lost its reality and interest to him, and upon AVILLIAM PENN. 415 this theme, onh', Avas he eloquent in his last days. He forgot all else 'but God and eternity, and with these glorious thoughts brightening his dying hours, he passed away early on the moming of the fifth of July, 1718, at the advanced age of sixty-eight. His work was finished, and he had indeed " set up an example to the nations." While Virginia Avas suf fering the horrors of Indian massacres, famine, and disturbances of every description, Pennsylvania re mained in tranquil repose in the very midst of the savage bands who meted out destruction and death everyAvhere but among those Avho slept free from fear, beneath their A'cry tomahuAvks, and without forts, senti nels or soldiers to protect them. They could safely tra verse the whole extent of forest, alone and unarmed — their siinple Quaker garb being a passport to the kind ness and hospitality of the grateful savages. The differ ent effects of peaceful and warlike measures are now strikingly contrasted ; for " Captain Smith's city, (old Jamesto-wn,) built by violence and blood, is now sAvept away from the face of the earth, scarcely a broken tombstone remaining,- tc tell where it stood. But Philadelphia, established by justice and brotherly kindness, though founded a long time after the other, has groAvn up to be one of the glories of this western worid." This fair city, with the surrounding province, was left by Penn's last will to his second wife and her heirs, together with eleven others. His estates in England and Ireland were given to William and Le- 416 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. titia, the surviving children of his first wife, Gulielma — that being considered a far more valuable property at that time. Nowhere, in the early annals of the American States, can be found a more complete character, or a life more closely modeled after the Divine Exemplar, than that of Penn. His name is a watchword of peace, and a tower of moral strength. His course, like that of such modern representatives of his sen timents as the noble Hopper, is a testimony to the victorious power of justice, truth and love. Even the Pilgrims came Avith the sword in one hand, and the Bible in the other ; and, according^, many of them, and of their descendants, found that they who take the sword shall perish by it. The triumphs of force and fraud are destined to grow dim, or only hateful, in the memory of the world. The certain conquests of Christian love will shine down the long avenue of time with an ever brightening glory. THE KNZk.