Meanwhile Smith had sailed up James River to inspect the site of another subordinate colony about to be established near the present city of Richmond. Here the last soldierly incident of a soldierly career took place. He found that the site selected was on marshy ground and unsuitable: he therefore fixed on the old "place called Powhatan," on a range of hills a little lower down a situation so beautiful that he gave it the name of "Nonsuch." But the men who had probably built huts on the marshy site rebelled. They were stronger than his own party, probably friends of Ratcliffe, - and attacked and drove him back to his boats. Then a curious sequel came. A force of Indians attacked them, and they fled to Smith for protection. He arrested the leaders, removed the colony to "Nonsuch," and then left them to their fortunes. Worn and weary with all this dissension and bitter blood, he sailed down the river again, bent on finally leaving Virginia.

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An incident hurried his departure. On his way down the James a bag of gunpowder exploded in his boat, "tearing the flesh from his body and thighs in a most pitiful manner." The pain so " tormented" him that he leaped overboard, and came near drowning. His men dragged him back, and in this state he reached Jamestown, where he was taken to a bed in the fort, "near bereft of his senses by reason of his torment."

His position was now dangerous. He was entirely disabled, but his will was unbroken, and he continued, in the midst of the fierce pain, to issue his orders, "causing all things to be prepared for peace or war." It was obvious that if he recovered he would surely bring Ratcliffe and the rest to account for their misdeeds; and an attempt was made to murder him in his bed. One

of the malcontents came into the room and placed the muzzle of a pistol on his breast, but his heart, it seems, failed him. When this became known, Smith's old soldiers gave way to fierce wrath. They offered to "take their heads who would resist his command," but

he refused to permit violence. He was going away from Virginia, and meant, if he could, to go in peace.

A pathetic picture is drawn of his situation, and the sense of injustice rankling in his mind. He was lying on his bed suffering agonies, with no surgeon to care for his hurts. His past services were forgotten, and his enemies had triumphed over him. His commission as head of the colony was "to be suppressed he knew not why, himself and soldiers to be rewarded he knew not how, and a new commission granted they knew not to whom." It was plain that his day had passed, and that it was useless to struggle further. His severe wounds required treatment, and there was no one in the colony who was competent. To end all, he would go away, carrying with him no more than he had brought, — his stout heart and good sword.

An opportunity to return to England presented itself. The ships were about to sail, and Smith was carried on board, still persisting in his refusal to resign his authority to the Ratcliffe party. In this dilemma a compromise was resorted to. George Percy, who had also meant to return to England for his health, consented to remain and act as President. Smith was hopeless of the ability of this sick gentleman to control the factions, but he no longer made any opposition. "Within an hour was this mutation begun and concluded." says the chronicle; and then the ships set sail, and Smith took his departure, never again to return to Virginia.

XII.

THE FIRST AMERICAN RULER AND WRITER.

SMITH thus disappeared from the stage of affairs in Virginia, but he had played a great part in the first scenes of American history, and his character and subsequent career deserve some notice.

He returned to London at thirty, and died there at fifty-two; but these twenty last years, like his early life, were marked by restless movement or continuous toil. He had left Virginia poor, and profited nothing from all his toils and sufferings in the New World. He said with noble pride that he "had broke the ice and beat the path, but had not one foot of ground there, nor the very house he builded, nor the ground he digged with his own hands." It does not appear, however, that he had ever expected to profit by the Virginia enterprise. It had given him a field for the exercise of his energies, and finding that his services were no longer welcome there he turned with all his old ardor to the life of a voyager and writer. The nature of the man was unresting, and craved action. The colonization of America was still his dream, and in the year 1614 he made a voyage to New England, where he gave the names of Boston, etc., to points on the coast, and made a partial exploration of the country. The result of this voyage was a great popular interest in New England, which is said to have led to its settlement by the Puritan Pilgrims. In the following year he set out on a second voyage, but was arrested by one of those incidents which abounded in his checkered career. He was attacked off the island of

Flores by a French squadron, his vessel was captured, and he was taken as a prisoner to Rochelle, whence he escaped to England. Here he met with a warm welcome. On board the French ship he had passed his time in writing his "Description of New England," and James I. now conferred on him the title of "Admiral" of that country.

Little more is known of him. He seems to have spent his last years in London, industriously engaged on his histories; is said to have married, and died in London in the year 1631. He was buried under the chancel of St. Sepulchre's church, and on the slab above his tomb was carved his shield with three Turks' heads, conferred on him by Sigismund, and a poetical inscription, beginning, "Here lies one conquered, that hath conquered kings," and ending with the prayer that "with angels he might have his recompense."

So snapped the chords of a stout heart, and a remarkable life ended. The character of the man must have appeared from his career. He was brave as his sword, full of energy, impatient of opposition, and had all the faults and virtues of the dominant class to which he belonged. His endurance was unshrinking, and his life in Virginia indicated plainly that he had enormous recoil. Pressure brought out his strength, and showed the force of his organization. He was probably never really cast down, and seems to have kept his heart of hope, without an effort, in the darkest hours, when all around him despaired. He is said to have been cordial and winning in his manners, and even his critics declared that he had "a prince's heart in a beggar's purse;" it is equally certain that he was impatient of temper, had large self-esteem, and was fond of applause.

But his aims were high, and his career shows that he regarded duty as his watchword. He detested idleness, and was convinced that the only way to do a thing is to do it; not to determine to do it at some future time if convenience permits. The result was utter impatience with sloth in every form, and he treated the sluggards with little ceremony. He scoffed at them as "tuftaffty humorists," and when they would not work he compelled them to do so by sheer force of will, setting them the example himself. When there was no more work for him to do in Virginia he went elsewhere, knowing that everywhere something was to be done.

This is the picture of a vigorous personality, and such was Smith. He was positive in all things, and loved and hated with all his energy. Those who knew him were either his warm friends or his bitter enemies. What his "old soldiers" thought of him may be seen in the verses attached to the "General History." These testify to his greatness as a leader and the perfect truth of his statements. One writer hails him as his "dear noble captain and loyal heart;" another as "wonder of nature, mirror of our clime;" another as a soldier of" valorous policy and judgment;" and a third exclaims, "I never knew a warrior but thee, from wine, tobacco, debts, dice, oaths, so free." What his enemies, on the contrary, thought of the soldier is equally plain. He was a tyrant and a conspirator, bent on becoming "King of Virginia;" and failing to crush him, they returned to England and vilified him. Ample evidence remains that he enjoyed the friendship of eminent contemporaries, among them of Sir Robert Cotton, John Donne, Dean of St. Paul's, the Earl of Pembroke, Purchas, the historian, and others. But the