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Table of Contents

The family of Powhatan—His successor—Sequel of the history of Pocahontas—Her acts of kindness to the colonists at various times, and especially to Smith—His gratitude—Her civilisation, and instruction in Christianity—Her visit to England in 1616—Reception at Court—Interview with Smith—His memorial respecting her to Queen Anne—Her death and character—Her descendants.

The family of Powhatan was numerous and influential. Two sons and two daughters have already been mentioned. There were also three brothers younger than himself; and upon them successively, according to their several ages, custom seems to have required that the government should devolve after his own death. The eldest, Opitchipan, [1] accordingly succeeded him, in form at least. But this prince was an inactive and unambitious man—owing in some degree perhaps to his being decrepit; and he was soon thrown into the shade by the superior energy and talent of Opechancanough, who before many years engrossed in fact the whole power of the government. Of the younger brother, Kekataugh, scarcely any thing is known. He probably died before any opportunity occurred of signalizing himself in a public station. The sequel of the history of Opechancanough is well worthy of being dwelt upon at some length; but previously, the order of time requires us to devote a share of attention to the fortunes of his celebrated niece, Pocahontas.

This beautiful and amiable woman, whom John Smith, in the excess of his admiration, styles "the Numpareil of Virginia," has been distinguished in modern times, chiefly, by that single extraordinary act of courage and humanity to which the gallant historian was indebted for the preservation of his life. But this was by no means the only evidence of these noble qualities which history has preserved. Her name indeed is scarcely once mentioned by the most ancient chronicles of the colony, except in terms of high eulogy, and generally in connexion also with some substantial facts going strongly to justify the universal partiality with which her memory is regarded to these times.

In the earliest and most gloomy days of the settlement, immediately after Smith's return from his captivity, the liberal and thoughtful kindness of Pocahontas went very far to cheer the desponding hearts of the colonists, as well as to relieve their actual necessities. She came into Jamestown with her attendants once in every four or five days, for a long time; and brought with her supplies of provisions, by which many lives are stated to have been saved. This will appear more fully from an ancient document which we shall hereafter transcribe at length.

When Smith was absent upon one of his Indian expeditions, emergencies occurred at Jamestown which rendered his presence extremely desirable. But not a man could be found who dared venture to carry a message to him from the council. He was known to be environed by enemies, and the hostility and power of Powhatan were at that period subjects of the most exaggerated apprehension. One Richard Wyffin at last undertook the hazardous enterprise. Encountering many dangers and difficulties, he reached the residence of Powhatan, a day or two after Smith had left it for Pamunkey. He found that great preparations for war were going on among the Powhatans; and he soon became himself the object of suspicion. His life undoubtedly would have paid the forfeit of his rashness, had not Pocahontas, who knew his perilous situation even better than himself, concealed him, and thwarted and embarrassed the search of the savages who pursued him, so that "by her means and extraordinary bribes and much trouble in three days travell," as history says, "at length he found vs in the middest of these turmoyles," (at Jamestown.)

Her conduct was the same after Smith's departure for England. Of the thirty men who accompanied Ratcliffe when he was massacred by the Indians, only one escaped to the colony, and one was rescued by Pocahontas. This was a boy named Henry Spilman, who subsequently was restored to his friends, [2] and from the knowledge of Indian languages which he obtained during his residence with the Patowomekes proved highly serviceable as an interpreter. Smith himself was more than once under obligations to the princess for his personal safety. We have alluded to that occasion when he quartered, over night, near the residence of her father. "Pocahontas, his dearest iewell and daughter, in that darke night came through the irksome woods, and told our Captaine great cheare should be sent vs by and by; but Powhatan and all the power he could make, would after come kill vs all, if they that brought it could not kill vs with our owne weapons, when we were at supper. Therefore if we would liue, she wished vs presently to be gone. Such things as she delighted in, he would haue giuen her; but with the teares running downe her cheekes, she said she durst not be seen to haue any, for if Powhatan should know it, she were but dead, and so she ran away by herself as she came." [3] What an affecting instance of the most delicate tenderness mingled with the loftiest courage.

It would have been strange indeed, if Smith, with all his passionate chivalry, had been insensible of these repeated kindnesses. Even Powhatan had too good an opinion of him to suppose so, for he had the sagacity to rely upon his gratitude for political purposes. When some of the emperor's subjects were taken prisoners by Smith, (although peace was nominally existing,) and forced to confess that Powhatan had employed them to work mischief against the colony, the latter "sent messengers, and his dearest daughter Pocahontas," with presents, to make apologies for the past, and promises for the future. Smith, on the other hand, (who understood as well as any one, the part of a gentleman,) after giving the prisoners such correction as he deemed necessary, treated them well for a day or two, and then delivered them to Pocahontas, "for whose sake onely he fayned to have saued their liues, and gaue them libertie." The emperor was paid for this ingenuity in his own coin, when the colonists, in 1613, took the princess herself captive, relying on the well-known strength of his attachment to her, as the surest means of procuring peace.

Her subsequent history may be soon told. Rolfe had become ardently enamoured of her beauty, and he used the fortunate occasion of her stay in the colony—perhaps was active in bringing it on—to procure the intercession of the President in his behalf. Pocahontas cherished similar feelings towards himself and when her brothers came to visit her she made one of them her confidant. Rolfe gained information of her sentiments, and thus was emboldened to prosecute his suit with a spirit worthy of the success which it met with. The parties married. In the course of a year or two, the young bride became quite an adept in the English language and manners, and was well instructed in the doctrines-of Christianity. She was entitled by her new acquaintances the Lady Rebecca.

In 1616, she and her husband accompanied Sir Thomas Dale to England. King James, (that anointed pedant, as Stith calls him,) is said to have been offended with Rolfe for his presumption in marrying the daughter of a king—a crowned head, too, it will be recollected.—He might have thought, perhaps, following up his own principles, that the offspring of the marriage would be fairly entitled to succeed Powhatan in his dominion. But the affair passed off, with some little murmuring; and Pocahontas herself was received at Court, by both the King and Queen, with the most flattering marks of attention. Lord de la War, and his lady, and many other courtiers of rank, followed the royal example. The princess was gratified by the kindness shown to her; and those who entertained her, on the other hand, were unanimously of opinion, as Smith expresses himself; that they had seen many English ladies worse-favored, proportioned and behaviored.

The captain was at this time in England; and although upon the eve of leaving that country on a voyage to New England, he delayed his departure for the purpose of using every possible means in his power of introducing the princess to advantage. A memorial which he draughted with his own hand, and sent in to the Queen, is supposed to have had no little influence at Court. It is well worth transcribing, both as a curiosity of style, and as a document of authentic history. It reads thus:

"To the most high and vertuous Princess Queene Anne of Great Britain:

"Most admired Queene,

"The loue I beare my God, my King and Countrie hath so oft emboldened mee in the worst of extreme danger, that now honestie doth constraine mee presume thus farre beyond myselfe, to present your Maiestie this short discourse. If ingratitude be a deadly poyson to all honest vertues, I must be guiltie of that crime if I should omit any meanes to be thankful. So it is,

"That some ten yeeres agoe, being in Virginia, and taken prisoner by the power of Powhatan their chiefe King, I received from this great Salvage exceeding great courtesie, especially from his sonne Nantaguans, the most manliest, comeliest, boldest spirit I euer saw in a salvage; and his sister Pocahontas, the King's most deare and well-beloued daughter, being but a childe of twelue or thirteene yeeres of age, whose compassionate pitifull heart, of desperate estate, gaue mee much cause to respect her; I being the first christian this proud King and his grim attendants euer saw; and thus inthralled in their barbarous power, I cannot say I felt the least occasion of want that was in the power of those my mortall foes to preuent, notwithstanding al their threats.

"After some sixe weeks fatting among these Salvage Courtiers, at the minute of my execution, she hazarded the beating out of her owne braines to saue mine, but not onely that, but so preuailed with her father, that I was safely conducted to Iames-towne, where I found about eight and thirtie miserable poore and sicke creatures, to keepe possession of al those large territories of Virginia; such was the weaknesse of this poore commonwealth, as had the salvages not fed us, we directly had starued.

"And this reliefe, most Gracious Queens, was commonly brought vs by this Lady Pocahontas, Notwithstanding al these passages, when inconstant fortune, turned our peace to warre, this tender Virgin would still not spare to dare to visit vs, and by her our iarres haue been oft appeased, and our wants still supplyed. Were it the policie of her father thus to imploy her, or the ordinance of God thus to make her his instrument, or her extraordinarie affection to our nation, I know not. But of this I am sure; when her father, with the utmost of his policie and power, sought to surprise mee, hauing but eighteene with mee, the darke night could not affright her from comming through the irkesome woods, and with watered eies gaue me intilligence, with her best aduice, to escape his furie; which had hee knowne, he had surely slaine her.

"Iames-toune, with her wild traine, she as freely frequented as her father's habitation; and during the time of two or three yeeres, she next under God, was still the instrument to preserve this colonie from death, famine and utter confusion, which if in those times had once been disolued, Virginia might haue line as it was at our first arrivall to this day.

"Since then, this businesse hauing beene turned and varied by many accidents from that I left it at, it is most certaine, after a long and troublesome warre after my departure, betwixt her father and our colonie, at which time shee was not heard off, about two yeeres after she her selfe was taken prisoner. Being so detained neere two yeeres longer, the colonie by that means was relieued, peace concluded, and at last reiecting her barbarous condition, shee was maried to an English gentleman, with whom at this present shee is in England; the first Christian euer of that nation, the first Virginian euer spake English, or had a childe in marriage by an Englishman. A matter, surely, if my meaning bee truly considered and well vnderstood, worthy a Prince's vnderstanding.

"Thus, most Gracious Lady, I have related to your Maiestie, what at your best leasure our approued Histories will account you at large, and done in the time of your Maiestie's life; and howeuer this might bee presented you from a more worthy pen, it cannot from a more honest heart. As yet I neuer begged any thing of the state, or any, and it is my want of abilitie and her exceeding desert, your birth meanes and authoritie, her birth, vertue, want and simplicitie, doth make mee thus bold, humbly to beseech your Maiestie to take this knowledge of her, though it bee from one so vnworthy to be the reporter as my selfe, her husband's estate not being able to make her fit to attend your Maiestie. The most and least I can doe is to tell you this, because none so oft hath tried it as my selfe; and the rather being of so great a spirit, howeuer her stature.

"If shee should not be well recieued, seeing this kingdom may rightly haue a kingdom by her meanes, her present loue to vs and christianitie might turne to such scorne and furie, as to diuert al this good to the worst of euill; where [whereas] finding so great a Queene should doe her some honor more than she can imagine, for being so kinde to your seruants and subjects, would so rauish her with content, as endeare her dearest blood to effect that your Maiestie and al the King's honest subjects most earnestly desire. And so I humbly kisse your gracious hands."

The final interview between the gallant and generous writer of this memorial and the princess who was the subject of it, is an occasion too interesting to be passed over without notice. She had been told that Smith, whom she had not seen for many years, was dead; but why this information was given her, does not appear. Perhaps it was to make his appearance the more gratifying. Possibly, Master Rolfe, in the heat of his passion, during the critical period of courtship had deemed it advisable and justifiable to answer, to this effect, the anxious inquiries she would naturally make after Smith, especially during her confinement at Jamestown. But whatever the reason was, the shock of the first meeting had nearly overwhelmed her. She was staying at Brentford, after her visit to London, having retired thither to avoid the noise and smoke of the metropolis, which she was far from enjoying. Smith was announced and soon after made his appearance. She saluted him—modestly, he says himself; and coolly, according to some other writers—and then turning away from him, she covered her face, and seemed to be too much discomposed for conversation.

Undoubtedly she was deeply affected with a multitude of conflicting emotions, not the least of which was a just indignation on account of the imposition which the English had practised upon her. For two or three hours she was left to her own meditations. At the end of that time, after much entreaty, she was prevailed upon to converse; and this point "once gained, the politeness and kindness of her visitant and her own sweetness of disposition, soon renewed her usual vivacity."

In the course of her remarks she called Smith her Father. That appellation, as bestowed by a King's daughter, was too, much for the captain's modesty, and he informed her to that effect. But she could not understand his reasoning upon the subject. "Ah!" she said—after recounting some of the ancient courtesies which had passed between them—"you did promise Powhatan that what was yours should be his, and hee the like to you. You called him Father, being in his land a stranger; and by the same reason so must I doe you." Smith still expressed himself unworthy of that distinction, and she went on. "Were you not afraid to come into my father's countrie, and caused fear in him and all his people—but mee—and fear you I should here call you father? I tell you then I will; and you must call mee childe, and then I will bee foreuer and euer your country-woman." She assured Smith, that she had been made to believe he was dead, and that Powhatan himself had shared in that delusion. To ascertain the fact, however, to a certainty, that crafty barbarian had directed an Indian, who attended her to England, to make special inquiries. This was Tomocomo, one of the emperor's chief counselors, and the husband of his daughter Matachanna—perhaps the same who had been demanded in marriage by Sir Thomas Dale, in 1614.

It is the last and saddest office of history to record the death of this incomparable woman, in about the two-and-twentieth year of her age. This event took place at Gravesend, where she was preparing to embark for Virginia, with her husband, and the child mentioned in Smith's memorial. They were to have gone out with Captain Argall, who sailed early in 1617; and the treasurer and council of the colony had made suitable accommodations for them on board the admiral-ship. But, in the language of Smith, it pleased God to take this young lady to his mercy. He adds, that she made not more sorrow for her unexpected death, than joy to the beholders, to hear and see her make so religious and godly an end. Stith also, records that she died, as she had long lived, a most sincere and pious Christian. The expression of a later historian is, that her death was a happy mixture of Indian fortitude and Christian submission, affecting all those who saw her by the lively and edifying picture of piety and virtue, which marked her latter moments. [14]

The same philosophic writer, in his general observations upon the character of Pocahontas, has justly remarked, that, considering all concurrent circumstances, it is not surpassed by any in the whole range of, history; and that for those qualities more especially which do honor to our nature—a humane and feeling heart, an ardor and unshaken constancy in her attachments—she stands almost without a rival. She gave evidence, indeed, of possessing in a high degree every attribute of mind and heart, which should be and has been the ornament and pride of civilized woman in all countries and times. Her unwearied kindness to the English was entirely disinterested; she knew that it must be so when she encountered danger and weariness, and every kind of opposition and difficulty, to bestow it, seasonably, on the objects of her noble benevolence. It was delicate, too, in the mode of bestowment. No favor was expected in return for it, and yet no sense of obligation was permitted to mar the pleasure which it gave. She asked nothing of Smith in recompense for whatever she had done, but the boon of being looked upon as his child. Of her character as a princess, evidence enough has already been furnished. Her dignity, her energy, her independence, and the dauntless courage which never deserted her for a moment, were worthy of Powhatan's daughter.

Indeed, it has been truly said that, well authenticated as is the history of Pocahontas, there is ground for apprehension that posterity will be disposed to regard her story as a romance. "It is not even improbable," says Burk, "that considering every thing relating to herself and Smith as a mere fiction, they may vent their spleen against the historian for impairing the interest of his plot by marrying the princess of Powhatan to a Mr. Rolfe, of whom nothing had been previously said, in defiance of all the expectations raised by the foregoing parts of the fable."

Young Rolfe, her only offspring was left at Plymouth, England, under the care of Sir Lewis Steukley, who undertook to direct his education—his tender years making it inexpedient to remove him to Virginia. As that gentleman was soon after completely beggared and disgraced by the part which he took in the proceedings against Sir Walter Raleigh, the tuition of Rolfe passed into the hands of his uncle, Henry Rolfe of London. He became in after years a man of eminence and fortune in Virginia, and inherited a considerable tract of land which had belonged to Powhatan. At his death he left an only daughter, who was married to Col. Robert Bolling. By him she had an only son, who was father to Col. John Bolling, (well known to many now living;) and several daughters married to Col. Richard Randolph, Col. John Fleming, Dr. William Gay, Mr. Thomas Eldridge and Mr. James Murray. This genealogy is taken from Stith; and he shows with sufficient minuteness, that this remnant of the imperial family of Virginia, which long survived in a single person, had branched out into a very numerous progeny, even as early as 1747. The Hon. John Randolph of Roanoke is, if we mistake not, a lineal descendant of the princess in the sixth degree.