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THE history of the United States may be said to have begun with the formation in England of a company for the purpose of forming colonies in America. This was called the Virginia Company, and to it was given the right to hold all the land from Cape Fear to the St. Croix River. The Company had two divisions—the London Company, with control over the southern territory, and the Plymouth Company, controlling the northern. It was the London Company who founded the first colony. Three vessels, under Captain Christopher Newport, sailed from England in the year 1607, with instructions to land on Roanoke Island. A storm drove them into Chesapeake Bay, and so delighted were they with the beauty of its shores that they determined to settle there. Sailing up the James River, they found a convenient spot for landing, and on the 13th of May the colony of Jamestown was established. There were about a hundred men in the party, many of them gentlemen of more or less precarious fortune, whose object in leaving their native land was almost entirely selfish. They expected to find gold, and so great was their greed that they went directly to washing dust, instead of cultivating the ground. The summer that followed was a terrible one. The location proved unhealthy, and more than half the colony died of a pestilence. Only the friendly generosity of the Indians saved the rest from starvation. The situation was rendered more unendurable by quarrels and dissensions in the Governing Council, which consisted of seven men appointed before leaving England. In this Council had been Gosnold, the explorer, Captain Newport, and Captain John Smith. This latter personage was a man of marked individuality, one of those characters not uncommon in history, who are as cordially detested by half the world as they are warmly admired by the other half. At first prevented by his enemies from taking his place in the Council at all, arrested and kept under a cloud for months, the following autumn finds him in supreme and solitary control of the entire colony.

Things began to brighten a little at Jamestown. Supplies were plenty, and, under the careful management of Smith, promised to last all winter. Having nothing else to complain about, the dissenters now began to mutter against Smith for not having discovered the source of the Chickahominy, the theory being that the South Sea, or Pacific Ocean, was not far distant, and that some river running from the northwest would be sure to lead to it. Whether or not Smith had much hope of reaching the Pacific via the Chickahominy River is uncertain, but he did make an attempt to trace the stream to its head.

His adventures on that memorable voyage have been told in every history of the colonies and in every school geography since. How much is truth and how much imagination it is impossible to decide; it should be stated that the original story came from a person not so much celebrated for veracity as for other excellent qualities—that is to say, from Captain John Smith himself.

Nine white men accompanied him on the trip up the river. When at length the barge could advance no further, Captain Smith returned some miles to a bay, where he moored his bark out of danger, and, taking two men and two Indian guides, he proceeded in a canoe twenty miles higher up the river. The men in the barge had strict orders not to leave until their commander returned. As soon as he was fairly out of sight, the order was disobeyed; the men went on shore, and one of them was killed by Indians.

Smith, meantime, had neared the head of the river. The country was very wet and marshy, but there was no indication of the proximity of the Pacific Ocean. The canoe was tied up, and Smith took his gun and one Indian and went on shore after food for his party. But, as it turned out, the landing-place was ill-chosen. The two men in the canoe were set upon by Indians and killed, and Smith, after a desperate resistance, was captured. He asked for their chief, and was led before Opechancanough. Smith presented to him a mariner’s compass, which so entertained the savages that they forbore their first murderous intentions and contented themselves with leading him captive to the town of Orapakes, which was about twelve miles from what is now the city of Richmond. Here he was confined in one of the houses, and an enormous quantity of food set before him. It is not probable that his appetite was very good, under the circumstances. His captivity was not devoid of pleasant features, however; an Indian, who had received some kindness at the hands of the Jamestown colonists, showed his gratitude by presenting to Smith a warm fur garment. While the orgies and incantations were going on—supposedly with a view to divine the prisoner’s intentions concerning the Indians—Opitchapan, brother of Chief Opechancanough, who dwelt a little above, came down to see the great white man, and entertained him hospitably.

At last it was decided to take the prisoner to the chief place of council, and to let the exalted Powhatan pronounce his fate. Accordingly they journeyed to Werowocomoco, on the York River—then known as the Pamaunkee. Here they found Powhatan, reclining in rude state on a sort of a throne covered with mats, and further adorned by the presence of two dusky maidens, splendid with feathers and beads and red paint. The captive was received with solemn ceremony, a feast was spread, and then a long consultation took place. The result was a sentence of death.

Two large stones are brought and laid one upon the other before Powhatan; behold savage hands seize upon the unhappy Smith and lay his head upon the stones; the war-clubs are poised in air, the chief’s hand starts to give the fatal sign; at the foot of the throne, one gentle heart is throbbing wildly with mingled love and fear; poor little Pocahontas, while the stones were being brought, put in her plea for mercy, but it was not even noticed; she is the dearest thing in the world to that stern old chief, but even she has never yet dared dispute his authority. But when she sees that hand raised, her fear is swept away, everything is swept away but love; she utters one mad cry, and, flying from her place, throws herself down beside him, clasps his form in her arms and lays her head upon his. The fairest woman in the world saves the bravest man. Oh! most charming picture in history! Men pretend to believe that it is all a fabrication. What if it is? To leave it out of the history books takes all the color from the

RESIDENCE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, 1798.

story of those days. If it didn’t happen, it might have happened. Certainly something happened, for two days later Smith was permitted to return to Jamestown on the absurd little condition of sending back two great guns and a grindstone. This condition Smith faithfully fulfilled, to his credit, and in addition to the cannon and the grindstone he sent presents to Powhatan’s wives and children. Records are so stupid at times; they are careful in this case to mention the grindstone, but they give not the slightest hint of what Captain Smith sent Pocahontas. Smith’s conduct all through that affair is puzzling. By every canon of romance, he should have married the princess. That it was otherwise is the best proof of the truth of the story, for true stories always end inartistically.

When Smith returned to Jamestown, he found things going very badly, and the number of the colonists reduced to forty. He set to work to encourage them, and to make his task easier, a ship laden with stores and with additional settlers now arrived. The Indians were friendly, and great numbers of them appeared at Jamestown to trade. Pocahontas came, too, and brought all sorts of things to Captain Newport and to Smith, which she had undoubtedly wheedled out of her father, the great Powhatan.

When Captain Newport returned to England, he took with him twenty turkeys which Powhatan had given him in exchange for twenty swords. This bargain pleased the old chief so much that he tried to effect a similar one with Smith. Failing, and becoming infuriated, he ordered his people to go to Jamestown and take the weapons by force. The President of the colony, under pretense of orders from England not to offend the natives, would have allowed the robbery to take place, but Smith rose in wrath and drove the intruders from the settlement.

Another ship, the “Phœnix,” now arrived. The colony was increased to nearly two hundred souls. There were plenty of provisions and the sword difficulty, thanks to the mediation of Pocahontas, had been amicably settled, so that all hostilities were at an end for the time being. The year was 1608.

Smith continued his explorations, sailing around Chesapeake Bay and up to the head of the Potomac River. He traveled not less than three thousand miles that summer, and that his worth was beginning to be appreciated at Jamestown is evidenced by the fact that on his return he had the pleasure of accepting the presidency of the colony. This had been offered him before, but he had declined it.

Now he set about his duties in earnest. The men were put to work, some making glass, preparing tar and pitch, while Smith with thirty others went five miles below the fort to cut down trees and to saw planks. The Jamestown colony was always unfortunate in having too many adventurer-gentlemen in it. Smith had a hard time with them, but by his tact and good management he got more work out of them than any one else could have done.

Their life, diversified with some struggles with the Indians, a good deal of internal bickering and considerable ill-luck with crops, etc., continued for another year. In 1609 an addition to the colony of five hundred men and women, with stores and provisions, set sail from England. But these new settlers had no sooner landed than new troubles began. The leaders, although they brought no commission with them, insisted on assuming authority over the original colony, defying Smith, whom they feared and hated.

Anarchy reigned for a time. The ring-leaders, Ratcliffe, Archer, and others, were imprisoned. West, with one hundred and twenty men, formed an independent settlement at the falls of the James River, and another one hundred and twenty, under Martin, established themselves at Nansemond. But these leaders were unable to deal fairly with the Indians, and the new settlements were abandoned after much bloodshed. Smith did what he could to effect peace, but failing, gave up in disgust and returned to England.

After his departure, things went from bad to worse. Within six months vice and starvation had reduced the colony from five hundred to sixty persons, and these must also have perished had not relief come from England.

Shortly afterward Lord Delaware was sent out to be Governor of the colony. He brought with him supplies and a large number of emigrants. Following these came seven hundred more. The land, which had hitherto been held in common, was divided among the colonists, and an era of wise government and contented prosperity began. In 1613 Pocahontas married John Rolfe, and this event improved greatly the relations between the white people and the Indians. But three years after it occurred, Pocahontas and her husband went to Europe, where the gentle little woman died. She was deeply mourned by her husband and by her people, for she was not only good but she was beautiful and very clever. Powhatan did not long survive his daughter, and thus were the two best friends of the white men removed. The rapid increase of the colonists, and the spread of their settlements, began to alarm the Indians, and in 1622 a conspiracy was formed to destroy and wipe out the invasion of Europeans.

It is necessary to mention one or two events in the colony before this year. In 1615 the cultivation of tobacco was begun on a large scale. Other pursuits were neglected and corn was scarcely raised at all. The new article of commerce proved so profitable that it became a perfect mania. In 1619 the first legislative body ever organized in America met at Jamestown, where a colonial constitution was adopted. The next year (1620) a Dutch man-of-war sailed up the James and landed twenty negroes who were sold as slaves. The same year a cargo of young white women were sent over and sold as wives—a position supposed to be a little better than that of slaves. The price paid was one hundred and twenty pounds of tobacco per wife.

The colonists were unprepared for the hostilities which followed the death of Powhatan. His dominion passed to his brother Opitchapan, a feeble old man feared by no one. But there was one man who soon began to incite the natives to war. This man was the captor of Smith, Opechancanough. He has been called by some the brother of Powhatan, but this opinion is erroneous. He came of one of the tribes of the southwest, probably Mexico, and rose to his position of leader only through his natural ability to govern. Inspired with a hatred of the white men, he visited in person all the tribes of the confederacy of Powhatan and roused them to murderous fury. A few people in the colony scented danger, but the majority were so secure in the belief of safety that it was impossible to induce them to take measures for their own protection. The settlements were now eighty in number and spread in separate plantations over a space of three or four hundred miles.

On Friday, the 22d day of March, 1622, the Indians came into the settlements as usual with game and fish and fruits, which they offered for sale in the market place. Suddenly a shrill signal cry rang out, and then began a hideous scene of blood and death. In one morning three hundred and forty-nine settlers were massacred. It is remarkable that one single white man should have escaped, but surprised and defenseless as they were, the settlers rallied and actually succeeded in putting their assailants to flight. The village of Jamestown was warned of its danger by a young Indian woman, preparations for defense were hurriedly made, but no assault occurred.

The wildest panic now seized the colonists. Distant plantations were abandoned, and in a short time, instead of eighty settlements, there were only six, and these were huddled closely around Jamestown. The war with the Indians kept up incessantly. Opechancanough pursued the white men with deadly hatred, and the white men never lost an opportunity of murdering an Indian.

In 1624 the London Company was dissolved, and Virginia was declared a royal government. The colony retained the right to a representative assembly and of trial by jury. All the succeeding colonies claimed these rights, so that it was in Virginia that the foundation of American independence was laid.

Indian hostilities continued—grew worse, in fact, as the whites increased in number and in power. There was but one end to such an unequal struggle. It came about the year 1643. Opechancanough was a very old man—he had lived a hundred years; he could no longer walk alone—his very eyelids had to be lifted by the fingers of an attendant; but within his withered frame the spirit of hatred and bitterness was as full of energy as ever. His power over the confederacy of Powhatan was as great as of old, and once again he roused the savages to an attempt at a general massacre.

Five hundred white men were butchered, but Sir William Berkeley, placing himself at the head of a large body of troops, marched against the Indians and not only utterly routed them, but captured their aged chief and took him back to Jamestown. The confederacy instantly dissolved, and the white men’s power over the land was established more firmly than ever.

The second permanent settlement in the United States—or what is now the United States—was made by the Dutch in 1614. A fort was built on the extremity of the island on which New York now stands; another was erected at the site of the city of Albany, and the country between was called New Netherlands. The next year a settlement of some importance was made at Albany, but for many years the fort on Manhattan Island was a mere trading-post.