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THE WHITE DOE
THE FATE OF
VIRGINIA DARE
_AN INDIAN LEGEND_
BY
SALLIE
SOUTHALL
COTTEN
[Illustration]
Printed for the Author
BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA
Copyright, 1901
BY SALLIE SOUTHALL COTTEN
_All rights reserved_
[Illustration:
"While within its bright'ning dimness,
With the misty halo 'round her,
Stood a beautiful white maiden"
Page 70]
TO
The National Society
of
Colonial Dames of America
WHOSE PATRIOTIC WORK HAS STIMULATED
RESEARCH INTO AN IMPORTANT AND
INTERESTING PERIOD OF THE HISTORY OF
OUR BELOVED COUNTRY
FORGOTTEN FACTS AND FANCIES
OF AMERICAN HISTORY
AS civilization advances there develops in the heart of man a higher
appreciation of the past, and the deeds of preceding generations come
to be viewed with a calm criticism which denudes those deeds of false
splendor and increases the lustre of real accomplishment. Man cannot
see into the future and acquire the prescience of coming events which
would make him infallible, but he can remove the veil from the past,
contemplate the mistakes and successes of those who have lived before
him, and who struggled with the same problems which now confront him.
The results of their efforts are recorded in history, and inspired by
high ideals he can study the past, and by feeding his lamp of wisdom
with the oil of their experiences he secures a greater light to guide
his own activities. Man remains a slave to Fate until Knowledge makes
him free, and while all true knowledge comes from experience, it need
not necessarily be _personal_ experience.
In studying the past, deeds come to be estimated more with reference to
their ultimate results and as factors in universal progress, and less
as personal efforts; just as more and more the personal merges into the
universal in all lines of endeavor. Viewed in this light of ultimate
results an imperishable and increased lustre envelops the name of Sir
Walter Raleigh as the pioneer and faithful promoter of English
colonization in America. The recognition of his services by the people
who reap the reward of his labors has ever been too meagre. A portrait
here and there, the name of the capital city in a State, a mention
among other explorers on a tablet in the National Library, the name of
a battleship, and a few pages in history, help to remind us of his
association with this nation. Perhaps a few may recognize his personal
colors--red and white--in the binding in this book, and his Coat of
Arms in the heraldic device which ornaments the cover, and which are
mentioned "lest we forget" one we should honor.
The present and ever increasing greatness of these United States is due
to the efforts of this remarkable man, who so wondrously combined in
one personality the attributes of statesman, courtier, soldier,
scientist, poet, explorer, and martyr. Isabella of Spain offered her
jewels to aid Columbus, and the deed has been lauded and celebrated as
of international value, yet it contained no touch of personal
sacrifice. She was never deprived of her jewels, and while her generous
offer proved her faith in the theories and ability of Columbus, it
brought to her no suffering. On the other hand, the efforts of Sir
Walter Raleigh were at his own expense, and entailed financial disaster
on him in the end. That he sought to extend the power of England must
be admitted by those who correctly estimate his character; yet no one
will deny that he was the most important factor in the colonization of
America by the English. Spain, France, and England contended long for
supremacy in the New World, but France failed to gain any permanent
power, and Spanish dominance, as illustrated in South America and
Mexico, was followed by slow progress. It was the English race, _led by
Raleigh_, which has become the leading power and modern strength of
America. Colony after colony he sent to the new land, and desisted not,
even after the death of his half-brother and coadjutor, Sir Humphrey
Gilbert. Disaster could not daunt so brave a spirit, and with
unsurpassed enterprise and perseverance he continued to send
expeditions year after year to what is now the coast of North Carolina,
but which was then called Virginia, and recognized as Raleigh's
possessions. Much money was required, and when his own fortune was
exhausted he transferred to what is known as the London Company his
rights to the land, and _by his advice_ they avoided his mistakes and
made the next settlement at Jamestown instead of Roanoak Island.
These facts have been temporarily obscured by the moss of neglect, but
they cannot be destroyed. They will ever remain the foundation-stones
of the great structure known and respected among nations as the United
States of America, and were laid by Sir Walter Raleigh at Roanoak
Island, on the coast of North Carolina, which was then called Virginia.
The intervening years have brought great results, those early struggles
have ripened into success and greatness beyond Raleigh's most sanguine
dreams. A new race has arisen, yet bearing the characteristics of the
race from which it sprung. Our English ancestors, our heritage of
English law and custom, of religion and home life, of language and
ideals, all tempered by the development of new characteristics, bind us
_through him_ to England.
Sir Walter Raleigh was not an ordinary man. He was one of the most
remarkable of a coterie of remarkable men whom a remarkable queen
(Elizabeth) gathered around her, and to whom she owed much of the
grandeur of her remarkable reign. Elizabeth's greatest gift was a
capacity for discerning and using great minds, and she had the good
fortune to find many around her at that period of time. Raleigh won her
favor, and received from her many benefits, among which was the honor
of knighthood with its emoluments, which she conferred. In the end her
favor cost him dear, because his heart had the courage to be true to
itself in love. Elizabeth never forgave him for loving, marrying, and
being true until death to her maid of honor, the beautiful Elizabeth
Throckmorton. That vain and jealous queen permitted no rivals, and she
wished to reign over the heart of this man, who, handsome, brave,
gallant, intelligent, and romantic, made an ideal courtier. His life at
court was brilliant but brief. Love anchored a soul attuned to loftier
deeds, and after his marriage his career as a courtier was eclipsed by
his later exploits as a statesman, warrior, explorer, and author. He
planned and participated in many expeditions which brought benefit to
his queen and added to his own fortune, yet none of his expeditions
have borne such an ever-increasing harvest of results as those he sent
to America. He began that work in 1584, and continued to send
expeditions in 1585-1586-1587, until the invasion of England by the
Spanish Armada forced him to other activities, and even then he sent
two expeditions to the relief of the colonists, which, because of the
exigencies of war, failed to reach America. In fact, the attitude of
Spain towards England at that time was the greatest obstacle which
militated against the success of his colonies. His ships and his valor
were necessary to suppress and check the insolence and ambition of
Spain, who designed to conquer England and become mistress of the
world. By his valor, loyalty, and wisdom Raleigh was largely
instrumental in bringing about the failure of those plans and in
defeating the Spanish fleet, which had been boastingly named The
Invincible Armada. Again his zeal and cool daring won for England the
great victory of Cadiz, which has always ranked as the most remarkable
achievement in the annals of naval warfare. With only seven ships he
dashed in and destroyed a large Spanish fleet (fifty-five ships) in its
own harbor with a dexterity and valor not surpassed even by Dewey at
Manila nor by Schley at Santiago.
Spain was always his foe because she feared him, and it seems like the
Nemesis of fate that three hundred years later the death-blow of Spain
as a world power was dealt in Manila Bay by the nation which Raleigh
strove so hard to plant, himself all unconscious of what the years were
to bring. On that famous morning when Dewey startled the world and
chastised Spain for her insolence and cruelty, the ship which fired the
first shot in a battle destined to change the rating of two nations,
the ship which first replied to the fire of the Spanish forts, as if
answering the challenge of an old-time foe,--that ship was the
_Raleigh_, named in honor of that great man by the nation he had
fostered, and in that battle Raleigh's foe was humbled, Raleigh's fame
perpetuated, and Raleigh's death avenged.
After the death of Elizabeth the star of Raleigh set. He whose most
valiant work had been the defense of England against the attacks of
Spain was falsely charged with treasonable negotiations with Spain, and
after a farce of a trial was thrown into prison, where he remained more
than twelve years. The only mitigations of the horrors of prison life
were the presence of his devoted wife and his books. He had always been
a student, and he spent the weary hours of his long confinement in
that companionship which is known only to those who really love books,
and to such minds they prove a panacea for sorrow and injustice. During
that imprisonment he wrote his famous "History of the World," marking
the eventful epoch by writing a history of the Old World at the same
time that he was opening the gates of the future by planting English
colonies in the New World. As soon as he was released from prison his
mind returned to schemes of exploration. He made a voyage to South
America, where new disasters befell him, and where his oldest son was
killed. Shattered by grief and misfortune he returned to England, where
his enemies had planned his certain downfall. Again he was sent to
prison, but not for a long time, for soon his princely head paid the
penalty which true greatness has too often paid to the power of a weak
king. As a subject he was loyal and valiant, as a husband faithful and
devoted, as a father affectionate and inspiring, as a scholar
distinguished in prose and poetry, as a soldier he won fame and
fortune, as a statesman he contributed to the renown of his sovereign's
realm, and as a man he lived and died guided by the highest ideals.
This was the man who spent a fortune trying to establish English
colonies in North America, and who sent repeated expeditions to the
island of Roanoak, situated where the waters of the Albemarle and
Pamlico Sounds meet, on the coast of North Carolina, but which was then
called Virginia.
The island wears a cluster of historic jewels which should endear it to
all patriotic Anglo-Americans. To them it should be the most sacred,
the best loved spot in all the United States. There the first English
settlements were made which led to English supremacy in the New World.
There the first home altar was reared and the first child of English
parents in the United States was born and baptized. There the blood of
Englishmen first dyed the sod of North America, and there the first
attempts at English agriculture were made. There was enacted the
tragedy of American colonization, the disappearance of Raleigh's Lost
Colony, and there the sacrament of baptism was first administered in
the United States. Roanoak Island is a beautiful place, with fertile
soil and wild luxuriance of vine-covered forests which are enveloped in
a deep solitude which has become dignity. Restless waters ebb and flow
by its side, restless winds kiss its bare sand dunes, a genial sun
brings to maturity its wealth of tree and vine and shrub. Protected
from the storms which ravage the ocean beyond, it sleeps in quiet
beauty, content with its heritage of fame as _the first home of the
English race in America_.
Its isolated position, its wild beauty, its tragic associations, its
dignified repose, all seem to have set it aside from the rush of modern
progress that it might become a shrine for the homage of a patriotic
people.
The wonderful fertility of the soil of this island seemed a marvel to
the early explorers, all of whom have testified to it. Ralph Lane,
governor of the colony of 1585, in writing to Raleigh of the island and
the surrounding country, declared it to be "the goodliest soil under
the cope of heaven," and that "being inhabited with English no realm in
Christendom were comparable to it;" every word of which is true now,
provided that the English who inhabit it follow the suggestions of
nature and adopt horticulture as the developing means. The surrounding
country as well as Roanoak Island has a wealth of climbing vines and
clustering grapes which point instinctively to grape culture. Amadas
and Barlowe (1584) wrote that they found the land "so full of grapes as
the very beating and surge of the sea overflowed them, of which we
found such plenty, as well there as in all places else, both on the
sand and on the green soil, on the hills as on the plains, as well as
on every little shrub as also climbing towards the top of high cedars,
that I think in all the world the like abundance is not to be found."
[Illustration: A Scuppernong Vineyard, Roanoak Island]
Surely no other such natural vineyard was ever found outside the fabled
Garden of the Gods!
Even in this generation an old resident of the Banks, an ante-bellum
pilot on these waters, has testified that his grandfather could
remember the time "when if a vessel were stranded on any of the beaches
the crew could crawl to land on the grapevines hanging over where now
there is only a dry sand beach." Throughout the eastern part of that
State (North Carolina) the grape riots in natural luxuriance and is
luscious and fragrant. Many varieties remain wild, while others have
been improved by cultivation. The three finest native American grapes,
the Catawba, the Isabella, and the Scuppernong, are all indigenous to
the soil of North Carolina. The Catawba, native to the banks of the
river Catawba, from which it takes its name, is still found wild in
North Carolina, while it has become celebrated at the North as a
table-grape, and in Ohio as a wine-grape. In its adopted home it has
revolutionized land values because of the money value of the product.
The Isabella grape, so generally cultivated for table use, is thought
to be a hybrid between the Burgundy and the native fox-grape of the
Carolinas. The tradition runs that the Burgundy was brought to South
Carolina by the Huguenots, and that cuttings from this hybrid were
brought to North Carolina and successfully propagated. Mrs. Isabella
Gibbs, for whom this well-known grape was named, carried a vine from
North Carolina to Long Island, where it attracted attention because of
its hardiness.
To the people of the South Atlantic coast the Scuppernong is by far the
most important of the native grapes, for while it refuses to flourish
away from its native home, yet its great possibilities as a wine-grape
are beginning to be appreciated. All the early explorers gave it
special mention. Hariot in his famous Narrative wrote, "There are two
kinds of grapes that the soil does yield naturally, the one is small
and sour, of the ordinary bigness of ours in England; the other far
greater and of _himself luscious sweet_. When they are planted and
husbanded as they ought, a principal commodity of wines by them may be
raised." (Hakluyt, 1586.) Lawson in his history (1714) describes
several varieties, and dwells on the abundant supply of grapes and the
great tangles of green vines. He wrote of a native _white_ grape, which
many in that day thought existed only in his imagination; but it was
a reality and was the now well-known Scuppernong, whose fame history
and tradition both perpetuate, and whose real worth, greater than its
legendary fame, is now being recognized and appreciated. There are
several varieties of the Scuppernong, all luscious and yielding rich
juices, and when ripe they fill the air with a fragrance unknown to any
other grape.
[Illustration: Old "Mother" Scuppernong Vine.]
The first Scuppernong vine known to history was found on the mainland
of the North Carolina coast by Amadas and Barlowe on their first voyage
(1584). Tradition relates that they transplanted this vine to Roanoak
Island. On this island there still flourishes an old vine, which
despite its gnarled body and evident age continues to bear fruit. It is
claimed that it is the same vine Amadas and Barlowe planted. Some
insist that it was planted by Sir Walter Raleigh himself, but as that
famous knight did not realize his wish to visit his new possessions in
North America, the honor of having planted the vine must revert to
Amadas and Barlowe. It seems to be endowed with perennial youth, and
the harvest from its branches is an annual certainty.
What the early explorers testified as to the abundant supply of grapes
on the Carolina coast, and the propitious conditions existing for the
propagation of the vine, is equally true to-day. The manifest destiny
of North Carolina as the rival of Southern France in the production of
wines seems to be inevitable. The marvel is how it has been so long
delayed after Hariot's special mention of such possibilities. Hariot
was a close observer with a practical mind, and the presence of an
indigenous supply of material to sustain an important industry
suggested to him that the people coming to this grape-laden land might
establish such an industry to their advantage. The delay of the
development of grape-culture in its native home can only be explained
on the theory that when nature boldly invites, man becomes shy. This
indifference to grape-culture is peculiar to America, for in Europe all
the aristocracy who are land-owners, where the climate makes it
possible, are cultivators of the grape, take great pride in their
wines, boast of their rare and fine vintages, and hold the making of
wine as one of the fine arts.
The original Scuppernong has white skin, white pulp, white juice, and
makes a white wine. Other varieties have dark purple skins and yield a
reddish juice which makes a red wine. The dark varieties are said to be
_seedlings_ from the original white variety, and tradition explains the
metamorphosis in this way.
[Illustration: Among the Scuppernongs.--A Modern Vineyard.]
In the magic spring made famous in the legend of The White Doe, after
the blood of Virginia Dare had melted from the silver arrow into the
water of the spring, then the water disappeared. As the legend says:
"Dry became the magic fountain,
Leaving bare the silver arrow."
Then while O-kis-ko looked on in wonderment he saw
"a tiny shoot with leaflets
Pushing upward to the sunlight."
Tradition says that this "tiny shoot with leaflets" was a young
seedling of the Scuppernong which had sprouted in the edge of the
water, and it was not seen by O-kis-ko until all the water had
disappeared. Then he saw it and immediately associated its appearance
with the magic arrow, and so left it "reaching upward to the sunlight."
After many days he returned to the spot-drawn by an irresistible
longing, and covered the fatal arrow, which had brought him so much
woe, with earth and leaves to hide it from his sight. The earth and
leaves furnished the necessary nourishment to the tiny vine, which
reached out with strength and vigor, and finding friendly bushes upon
which to climb, it soon made a sheltering bower above the spot where
had bubbled the magic spring. This tiny green bower became the favorite
retreat of O-kis-ko, where he would linger to cherish thoughts of his
lost love, Virginia Dare, and marvel on the wonders of her death. Then
it came to pass that when fruit came upon this vine, lo! it was purple
in hue instead of white like the other grapes, and yielded a _red_
juice. Full of superstition, and still credulous of marvels, O-kis-ko
imagined the change to be due to the magic arrow buried at its root. He
gathered the grapes and pressed the juice from them, and lo! it was
_red_--it was the semblance of blood, _Virginia Dare's blood_, absorbed
from the water (in which it had melted from the arrow) by the vine, and
yet potent for good. Surely it held some unseen power, for it combined
in some mystic way through the mysterious earth at his feet all the
power of the magic spring, the power of the silver arrow, and the power
of human blood consecrated through human love. He reverently drank the
juice of this new vine, believing that it would in some way link him
with the spirit of her he had loved and lost. Year after year he drank
this juice and fed his soul on thoughts of love, making unconsciously a
sacrament, and finding happiness in the thought that the blood of the
maiden would feed his spirit and lead him to her at last. To become
good like her and to go to her became his highest hope. Aspiration had
been born in his soul, and quickened by love it could not die, but led
him blindly to strive to reach her, and such striving is never in vain.
[Illustration: A "Virginia Dare" Vineyard.]
Another fact that should be enshrined in the hearts and perpetuated in
the memorials of the nation, is that on Roanoak Island the first
Christian baptism in the United States was administered. By order of
Sir Walter Raleigh, Manteo, the friendly Indian chief, was baptized
soon after the arrival of the colony under Governor White, and the
following Sunday Virginia Dare, the granddaughter of Governor White,
was baptized, both events being officially reported to Raleigh. In this
day of religious freedom any enforced adoption of religious forms
shocks our pious instincts. Yet baptism has always been considered
_necessary_ to salvation, and in the past the zeal of Christians for
the salvation of their fellow-men often assumed the form of mild force.
We read where the Spaniards, always religious fanatics, administered
the Holy Sacrament to thousands in Central America and Mexico _at the
point of the sword_; their zeal misleading them to force upon those
less enlightened than themselves the hope of that heaven which they
believed to be accessible only through certain Christian rites. So to
order the baptism of an Indian chief seems a simple, kindly thing, and
most probably Manteo desired it done. The only other Indian who
received baptism in those early settlements was Pocahontas, in 1614.
She was a captive at the time and held as a hostage to induce Powhatan
to comply with certain demands of the colonists at Jamestown.
Despite the fact that Virginia Dare was baptized twenty-seven years
earlier than Pocahontas, yet it is the Indian Princess who is figured
in the painting on the walls of the dome of the Capitol at Washington
as receiving the first baptism in the colonies. Buried in the annals of
that time lies the fact that twenty-seven years before any colonist
even came to Jamestown, Virginia Dare was born and baptized, as the
sequence of Christian birth and as the child of Christian parents.
Virginia Dare was not a myth. She was a living, breathing reality, a
human creature of good English descent, the granddaughter of the
governor of the colonies, the daughter of the assistant governor, and a
sharer in the mysterious fate of Raleigh's Lost Colony. The historical
facts of her life and the legend of her fate and death are contained in
the pages of "The White Doe."
Her baptism would not have been mentioned in the records if it had not
been official and proper. In a new land, surrounded by dangers and
difficulties, with strange environment to divert the mind to other
channels, it would have been easy and natural for her baptism to have
been delayed if not altogether neglected amid the stress of events. Her
prompt baptism and the official report of the event to Sir Walter
Raleigh is convincing testimony to the presence of a chaplain at
Roanoak.
THE FIRST BAPTISM IN THE WILDS OF AMERICA!
How naturally the scene rises before us. The young mother, her heart
thrilling with the mysteries of love and life, and elated with the joy
of motherhood, alert to the dangers of the new land, and suspicious of
the strange people among whom her blue-eyed treasure must live, yet
yielding cheerfully to the busy smiling English women who had crossed
the ocean with her, and now with womanly intuition ministered to her
needs. We can picture them making tidy the confused household, and
stilling the cries of the infant as they prepare her to receive the
sign of the cross. We can almost picture them deliberating over a
choice from among their limited supply of vessels of one worthy to
become the receptacle of the water to be used. It was on the
Sabbath-Day, and the dedication to God of the wee creature who had so
newly come among them was a fitting observance of the day. The solemn
words of the ritual of the English Church, never before spoken in that
primeval forest, must have awakened mysterious vibrations which linger
yet and give to Roanoak Island that atmosphere of perpetual repose
which envelops it. There must have come to those who witnessed the
scene that holy Sabbath-Day, just as it comes now to those who view it
from afar, a deep realization that the God of the English and the Great
Spirit of the Indian are one and the same, then, now, and evermore. The
One God to whom in baptism Virginia Dare was brought and in whose name
Manteo the savage was signed with the cross and given the promise of
salvation, and who remains the God of the millions of English-speaking
people who now worship in the land which was then and there dedicated
to the service of Christ.
The mist of oblivion fades before the light of Truth, and Virginia Dare
will be a shining jewel in the Chaplet of Memories which some day
Christian America will place upon the tomb of the Past.
PREFACE
A familiar knowledge of the history of one's own country increases
patriotism and stimulates valor. For this reason the study of written
records called history should be supplemented by research into myths,
folk-lore, and legends. While the value of history lies ever in its
truth, it must yet bear the ideals of the people who participated in
the events narrated. Tradition was the mother of all history, and was
necessarily robed in the superstitions of the era of which the
tradition tells. History writers, jealously guarding the truth, have
striven to banish all traditions which seemed colored by fancy or even
freighted with a moral lesson. These exiled traditions, bearing the
seed-germs of truth, cannot die, but, like wandering spirits, float
down the centuries enveloped in the mists of superstition, until
finally, embodied in romance or song, they assume a permanent form
called legend and become the heritage of a people. Legends are the
satellites of history because they have their origin in the same
events, and the history of all countries is interspersed with them.
The legend of The White Doe is probably the oldest and possibly the
least known of all the legends which relate to the history of the
United States. It is a genuine American legend, and the facts from
which it had its origin form the first chapter in the history of
English colonization in North America. Those facts are found in the
repeated attempts of Sir Walter Raleigh to establish an English colony
in the New World. The Spaniards were in Florida, the French were in
Nova Scotia, but England had gained no possessions in North America
when Raleigh began his efforts. This fact assumes more importance when
we remember that civilization has made the greatest progress in those
parts of America where the English became dominant. In South America,
dominated by the Spaniards, civilization has made no strides, while in
the United States a new nation has arisen whose ultimate destiny none
may limit or foretell. As the gates of a new century open and disclose
almost unlimited fields for human progress, this new nation, with an
enthusiasm and courage born of success, has taken her place to lead in
the eternal forward search for better opportunities and higher life
for the human race. All this grand destiny, all this ripening
opportunity, like a harvest from a few seeds, is traced back, event
after event, to the early struggles of those who braved the dangers of
sea and forest in the attempts to colonize America. Those pioneer
efforts, so generously promoted by Sir Walter Raleigh, though only
partially successful, were the stepping-stones which later led to the
better-known settlement of Jamestown, in Virginia. A brief _résumé_ of
those stepping-stones will make them familiar to all.
In 1584 Queen Elizabeth made a grant to Raleigh for all the land from
Nova Scotia to Florida, which was called Virginia, in honor of the
Virgin Queen, as Elizabeth was called.
The first expedition sent out under this grant was in the same year,
1584, and was entirely at the expense of Sir Walter Raleigh, as were
all of the expeditions up to 1590. It was solely for the purpose of
exploration, and was under the command of Amadas and Barlowe, who,
after coasting along the Atlantic shores, entered Pamlico Sound and
landed on the island of Roanoak, on the coast of the present State of
North Carolina. They made the acquaintance of the tribes there
resident, explored the country on the coast, and returned to England to
bear enthusiastic testimony to the delightsomeness of the country. They
took with them back to England two native Indian chiefs, Manteo and
Wanchese, who returned to America on a subsequent voyage, as the
official records tell.
The following year, 1585, a colony of one hundred and seven men landed
on this same island of Roanoak. They came organized to occupy and
possess the land granted to Raleigh, and to secure such benefits
therefrom as in those days were deemed valuable. They remained one
year, exploring the country and trying to establish relations with the
Indians. They built houses, planted crops, and looked forward to the
arrival of more men and food, which had been promised from England. But
no ships came, provisions grew scarce, and before the crops they had
planted were mature enough to harvest, Sir Francis Drake, the great
sea-rover of that day, appeared off the island with a fleet of vessels.
Knowing the dangers of that coast, he did not attempt to come to the
island, but sent in to learn of the welfare of the colony, and offered
to supply their immediate needs. They asked, among other things, that
their sick and weak men be taken back to England, that food for those
who remained be given them, and for a vessel in which they might return
home if they so desired, all of which Drake granted. But a dreadful
storm arose, which lasted three days and drove the promised vessel out
to sea, with a goodly number of the colonists and the promised food on
board. Seeing thus a part of their number and their food gone, the
remaining colonists became homesick and panic-stricken and begged Drake
to take them _all_ to England, which he did. Thus ended the first
attempt at English colonization in North America.
Fifteen days after their departure Sir Richard Grenville arrived with
three vessels, bringing the promised supplies, but found the men gone.
Wishing to hold the country for England until another colony could
arrive, he left fifteen men on the island with provisions for two
years, and he returned to England. Those fifteen men are supposed to
have been murdered and captured by the Indians, as the next colony
found only some bones, a ruined fort, and empty houses in which deer
were feeding.
The leaving of those fifteen men is considered the second attempt at
colonization, and is recognized as a failure. But all success is built
only by persistent repetition of effort, and so, in 1587, another
colony came from England to this same island of Roanoak. Among those
colonists were seventeen women and nine children, thus proving the
intention of making permanent homes, and the hope of establishing
family ties which should for all time unite England and North America.
A few days after the arrival of this colony at Roanoak, Virginia Dare
was born,--she being the first child born of English parents on the
soil of North America,--and because she was the first child born in
Virginia she was called Virginia. Her mother, Eleanor Dare, was the
daughter of John White, the governor of the colony, and the wife of one
of the assistant governors.
The Sunday following her birth she was baptized, this being another
fact of official record.
By Sir Walter Raleigh's command the rite of baptism had been
administered, a few days earlier, to Manteo, an Indian chief, who had
visited England with a returning expedition, as previously mentioned.
This baptism of the adult Indian and of the white infant were the first
Christian sacraments administered in North America, and are worthy of
commemoration.
The colonists soon found that to make possible and permanent their home
in a new land many things were needed more than they had provided. So
at their urgent request their leader, Governor White, grandfather of
Virginia Dare, consented to return to England to secure the needed
supplies, with which he was to return to them the following year. When
White reached England he found war going on with Spain, and England
threatened with an invasion by the famous Spanish Armada. His queen
needed and demanded his services, and not until 1590--three years
later--did he succeed in returning to America. When at last he came the
colonists had disappeared, and the only clue to their fate was the word
"Croatoan," which he found carved on a tree; it having been agreed
between them that if they changed their place of abode in his absence
they would carve on a tree the name of the place to which they had
gone.
The arrival of those colonists, the birth and baptism of Virginia Dare,
the return of White to England, the disappearance of the colony, and
the finding of the word Croatoan, these facts form the record of that
colony, the disappearance of which is a mystery which history has not
solved.
But tradition illumines many periods of the past which history leaves
in darkness, and tradition tells how this colony found among friendly
Indians a refuge from the dangers of Roanoak Island, and how this
infant grew into fair maidenhood, and was changed by the sorcery of a
rejected lover into _a white doe_, which roamed the lonely island and
bore a charmed life, and how finally true love triumphed over magic and
restored her to human form,--only to result in the death of the maiden
from a silver arrow shot by a cruel chieftain.
This tradition of a white doe and a silver arrow has survived through
three centuries, and not only lingers where the events occurred, but
some portions of it are found wherever in our land forests abound and
deer abide. From Maine to Florida lumbermen are everywhere familiar
with an old superstition that to see a white doe is an evil omen. In
some localities lumbermen will quit work if a white deer is seen. That
such a creature as a white deer really exists is demonstrated by their
capture and exhibition in menageries, and to-day the rude hunters of
the Alleghany Mountains believe that only a silver arrow will kill a
white deer.
The disappearance of this colony has been truly called "the tragedy of
American colonization," and around it has hung a pathetic interest
which ever leads to renewed investigation, in the hope of solving the
mystery. From recent search into the subject by students of history a
chain of evidence has been woven from which it has come to be believed
that the lost colony, hopeless of succor from England, and deprived of
all other human associations, became a part of a tribe of friendly
Croatoan Indians, shared their wanderings, and intermarried with them,
and that their descendants are to be found to-day among the Croatoan
Indians of Robeson County, North Carolina.
(Those who desire to investigate this supposed solution of the mystery
can easily secure the facts and the conclusions formed by those who
have made a careful study of the subject.)
Of course, it can never be known _certainly_ whether Virginia Dare was
or was not of that number, but the full tradition of her life among the
Indians is embodied in the legend of The White Doe.
Much has been written about the Indian princess Pocahontas, and much
sentiment has clustered around her association with the Jamestown
colony, while few have given thought to the young English girl whose
birth, baptism, and mysterious disappearance link her forever with the
earlier tragedies of the same era of history. It seems a strange
coincidence that the Indian maiden Pocahontas, friend and companion of
the _White_ Man, having adopted _his_ people as her own, should sleep
in death on English soil, while the English maiden, Virginia Dare,
friend and companion of the _Red_ Man, having adopted his people as
_her_ own, should sleep in death on American soil,--the two maidens
thus exchanging nationality, and linking in life and in death the two
countries whose destinies seem most naturally to intermingle.
The scattered fragments of this legend have been carefully collected
and woven into symmetry for preservation. Notes from authentic sources
have been appended for the benefit of searchers into the historical
basis of the poem, which is offered to the public with the hope that it
may increase interest in the early history of our home land and
strengthen the tie which binds England and the United States.
SALLIE SOUTHALL COTTEN.
CONTENTS
PAGE
FORGOTTEN FACTS AND FANCIES OF AMERICAN HISTORY i
PREFACE 5
PROLOGUE 19
THE SEEDS OF TRUTH 23
THE LEGEND OF THE WHITE DOE
I.--THE REFUGEES 31
II.--THE PALE-FACE MAIDEN 42
III.--SAVAGE SORCERY 46
IV.--THE COUNTER-CHARM 55
V.--THE HUNT 63
VI.--THE SILVER ARROW 72
APPENDIX 81
ILLUSTRATIONS
_1 "While within its bright'ning dimness,
With the misty halo 'round her,
Stood a beautiful white maiden"_ FRONTISPIECE
_2 A Scuppernong Vineyard, Roanoak Island_ _x_
_3 Old "Mother" Scuppernong Vine_ _xii_
_4 Among the Scuppernongs.--A Modern Vineyard_ _xiv_
_5 A "Virginia Dare" Vineyard_ _xvi_
_6 The Arrival of the Englishmen in Virginia_ _23_
_7 "The Fierce, Brawny Red Man is King of the Wold"_ _24_
_8 The Land-of-Wind-and-Water_ _32_
_9 Man-te-o, a Chiefe Lorde of Roanoak_ _34_
_10 "Then a New Canoe he fashioned"_ _52_
_11 The Magician of Po-mou-ik_ _58_
Frontispiece from an original drawing by May Louise
Barrett.
Maps and remaining illustrations reproduced from
Theodore de Bry's edition of "The True Pictures and
Fashions of the People in that Parte of America now
called Virginia," 1590.
PROLOGUE
In the tomb of vanished ages sleep th' ungarnered truths of Time,
Where the pall of silence covers deeds of honor and of crime;
Deeds of sacrifice and danger, which the careless earth forgets,
There, in ever-deep'ning shadows, lie embalmed in mute regrets.
Would-be-gleaners of the Present vainly grope amid this gloom;
Flowers of Truth to be immortal must be gathered while they bloom,
Else they pass into the Silence, man's neglect their only blight,
And the Gleaner of the Ages stores them far from human sight.
Yet a perfume, sweet and subtle, lingers where each flower grew,
Rising from the shattered petals, bathed and freshened by the dew;
And this perfume, in the twilight, forms a mist beneath the skies,
Out of which, like airy phantoms, legends and traditions rise;
For the Seeds of Truth are buried in a legend's inmost heart,
To transplant them in the sunlight justifies the poet's art.
[Illustration: The arrival of the Englishmen in Virginia]
THE SEEDS OF TRUTH
ROANOAK, 1587
Shimmering waters, aweary of tossing,
Hopeful of rest, ripple on to the shore;
Dimpling with light, as they waver and quiver,
Echoing faintly the ocean's wild roar.
Locked in the arms of the tremulous waters
Nestles an island, with beauty abloom,
Where the warm kiss of an amorous summer
Fills all the air with a languid perfume.
Windward, the roar of the turbulent breakers
Warns of the dangers of rock and of reef;
Burdened with mem'ries of sorrowful shipwreck,
They break on the sands in torrents of grief.
Leeward, the forest, grown giant in greenness,
Shelters a land where a fervid sun shines;
Wild with the beauty of riotous nature,
Thick with the tangles of fruit-laden vines.[A]
From fragrant clusters, grown purple with ripeness,
Rare, spicy odors float out to the sea,[B]
Where the gray gulls flit with restless endeavor,
Skimming the waves in their frolicsome glee.
Out from the shore stalks the stately white heron,
Seeking his food from the deep without fear,
Gracefully waving wide wings as he rises
When the canoe of the Indian draws near.
Through reedy brake and the tangled sea-grasses
Wander the stag and the timid-eyed doe[C]
Down to the water's edge, watchful and wary
For arrows that fly from the red hunter's bow.
Fearless Red Hunter! his birthright the forest,
Lithe as the antelope, joyous and free.
Trusting his bow for his food and his freedom,
Wresting a tribute from forest and sea,
No chilling forecast of doom in the future
Daunts his brave spirit, by freedom made bold.
Far o'er the wildwood he roams at his pleasure,
The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold.
[Illustration: "The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold"]
* * * * *
Lo! in the offing the white sails are gleaming,
Ships from afar to the land drawing nigh;
Laden with men, strong and brave to meet danger,
Stalwart of form, fair of skin, blue of eye.
Boldly they land where the white man is alien;
Women are with them, with hearts true and brave;
Sadly they stand where their countrymen perished,[D]
Seeking a home where _they_ found but a grave.
Friendly red hunters greet them with kindness,
Tell the sad tale how their countrymen died,[E]
Beg for a token of friendship and safety,[F]
Promise in love and in peace to abide.
Manteo's heart glows with friendly remembrance,
He greets them as brothers and offers good cheer;
No thrill of welcome is felt by Wanchese,[G]
His heart is bitter with malice and fear.
Envying men his superiors in wisdom,
Fearing a race his superiors in skill;
Sullen and silent he watches the strangers,
Whom from the first he determines to kill.
Then the sign of the Cross, on the brow of the Indian,[H]
Seals to the savage the promise of life;
Sweet symbol of sacrifice, emblem of duty,
Standard of Peace, though borne amidst strife:
Draped with the sombre, stained banner of Conquest,
Dark with the guilt of man's murder and greed,
Yet bright with God's message of love and forgiveness
Unto a universe welded to creed.
Gently the morning breeze tosses the tree-tops,
Low ebbs the tide on the outlying sand;
When a tiny white babe opens eyes to the sunlight,[I]
Heaven's sweet pledge for the weal of the land.
Babe of the Wilderness! tenderly cherished!
Signed with the Cross on the next Sabbath Day;
Brave English Mother! through danger and sorrow,
For a nation of Christians thou leadest the way.
Back to the home-land, across the deep water,
Goes the wise leader, their needs to abate;[J]
Leaving with sorrow the babe and its mother
In a strange land as a hostage to Fate.
Many long months pass in busy home-making,
Sweet English customs prevail on the isle;
Anxious eyes watch for the ship in the offing,
Saddened hearts droop, but the lips bravely smile.
Gone are the sweet dreamy days of the summer,
In from the ocean the winter winds shriek;
Dangers encompass and enemies threaten,
Mother and child other refuge must seek.
Mother and child, as in Bethlehem story,
Flee from the hate of their blood-thirsty foes;
Hopeless of help from their own land and people,
They seek friendly tribes to find rest from their woes.
To the fair borders of Croatoan Island,
Over the night-covered waters they flee;
Seeking for safety with Manteo's people,
Leaving the word "Croatoan" on a tree.[K]
Name of the refuge in which they sought shelter,
Only the name of a tribe, nothing more;[L]
Sign whereby those who would seek them might follow
To their new home on the Croatoan's shore.
Why did they leave the rude fort they had builded?
Why did they seek far away a new home?
O innocent babe! Roanoak's lost nestling!
How shall we learn where thy footsteps did roam?
'Mid the rude tribes of the primeval forest,
Bearing the signet of Christ on thy brow,
Wert thou the teacher and guide of the savage?
Who, of thy mission, can aught tell us now?
Through the dim ages comes only the perfume,
Left where the flowers of Truth fell to earth;
With ne'er a gleaner to treasure the blossoms,
Save the sweet petals of baptism and birth.
Vainly we seek on Time's shore for thy footprints,
Hid in a mist of pathos is thy fate;
Yet of a life under savage enchantment
Quaint Indian legends do strangely relate.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: See Appendix, Note _a_.]
[Footnote B: See Appendix, Note _b_.]
[Footnote C: See Appendix, Note _c_.]
[Footnote D: See Appendix, Note _d_.]
[Footnote E: See Appendix, Note _e_.]
[Footnote F: See Appendix, Note _e_.]
[Footnote G: Pronounced Wan-chess-e.]
[Footnote H: See Appendix, Note _f_.]
[Footnote I: See Appendix, Note _g_.]
[Footnote J: See Appendix, Note _h_.]
[Footnote K: See Appendix, Note _k_.]
[Footnote L: See Appendix, Note _k_.]
THE LEGEND OF THE WHITE DOE
I
THE REFUGEES
In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water,
Loud the sea bemoaned its sameness;
Dashing shoreward with impatience
To explore the landward mysteries.
On the sand the waves spread boldly,
Vainly striving to reach higher;
Then abashed by vain ambition,
Glided to their ordained duty.
There the pine-tree, tall and stately,
Whispered low the ocean's murmur;
Strove to soothe the restless waters
With its lullaby of sighing.
There the tall and dank sea-grasses,
From the storm-tide gathered secrets
Of the caverns filled with treasures,
Milky pearls and tinted coral,
Stores of amber and of jacinth,
In the caves festooned with sea-weed,
Where the Sea-King held his revels
And the Naiads danced in beauty.
In this Land-of-Wind-and-Water,
Dowered with the sunshine's splendor,
Juicy grapes grew in profusion,
Draping all the trees with greenness,
And the maize grew hard and yellow,
With the sunshine in its kernels.
Through the forest roamed the black bear,
And the red deer boldly herded;
Through the air flew birds of flavor,
And the sea was full of fishes,
Till the Red Man knew no hunger,
And his wigwam hung with trophies.
[Illustration: The Land-of-Wind-and-Water]
There brave Man-te-o, the Faithful,
Ruled the Cro-a-to-ans with firmness,
Dwelt in peace beside the waters,
Smoked his pipe beneath the pine-tree,
Gazed with pride upon his bear-skins
Which hung ready for the winter.
Told his people all the marvels
Of the Land-of-the-Pale-Faces;
Of the ships with wings like sea-birds
Wherein he had crossed the water;[M]
Of the Pale-Face Weroanza[N]
Whom he saw in her own country;
Of her robes of silken texture,
Of her wisdom and her power;
Told them of her warlike people
And their ships which breathed the lightning.
How he pledged with them a friendship,
Hoping they would come to teach him
How to make his people mighty,
How to make them strong in battle
So the other tribes would fear them.
And the dream of future greatness
Filled the Cro-a-to-ans with courage;
And their hearts grew warm and friendly
To the race of white-faced strangers.
When bold white men came among them,
To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,
Man-te-o, the friendly Weroance,
Faithful proved to all his pledges.
Smoked with them the pipe of friendship,
Took their God to be his Father;
Took upon his swarthy forehead
Their strange emblem of salvation,[O]
Emblem of the One Great Spirit,
Father of all tribes and nations.
Man-te-o, the friend and brother,
Bade them fear the false Wan-ches-e,
And the Weroance Win-gin-a,
Whose hearts burned with bitter hatred
For the men they feared in combat,
For the strangers who defied them.
[Illustration: Man-te-o, a chiefe lorde of Roanoak]
When the Pale-Face, weak and hungry,
Feeble from continued labor,
Shivered in the blasts of winter
Which blew cold across the water,
Then Wan-ches-e planned their ruin,
With Win-gin-a sought to slay them.