The Forgotten Kidnapping: The Transformation of the Pocahontas Captivity Story
Joe Reutiman, University of Minnesota
[1] Since her initial appearance in John Smith's A True Relation of Virginia (1608), the Indian princess Pocahontas has captured the imaginations of American storytellers. They have often revised and transformed it throughout its four-hundred-year lifespan and have utilized it to suit various (often conflicting) agendas. Consequently, storytellers and artists have portrayed Pocahontas as everything from savior to spy. A universal characteristic of these adaptations, however, is the continual emphasis placed on the capture of Captain John Smith and on his subsequent rescue by the Indian princess – a fact that remains unsurprising considering the dramatic potential of the event.
[2] But while historians have devoted considerable attention to the debate over the veracity of John Smith's claims and the circumstances of his captivity, they have almost forgotten that the story of Pocahontas is actually a tale of two polar-opposite captivities. As an instance of an Indian woman being captured by white colonists, the Pocahontas captivity stands as a direct reversal of roles in comparison to the more recognized Smith captivity. Yet, the captivity of Pocahontas has received far less attention, and most representations of the narrative fail to mention the abduction of Pocahontas in any respect. While it may seem at first glance as though the Pocahontas captivity story has dropped out of the national consciousness entirely, the tale has actually maintained a presence coloring other aspects of the narrative that became popular and ultimately mythologized.
[3] I analyze this event as it relates to the evolution of the overall narrative; specifically, I show how the event is treated in the few instances where it does appear, and I suggest reasons for its omission in the places it could have potentially appeared. In this scope, the progression of the Pocahontas captivity story can be traced through three main stages: First, in the initial decades following her capture and death, the white colonists responsible for perpetrating the kidnapping addressed the story as a mark of shame requiring adequate justification on their behalf. In the second stage, a period of mythologizing the Pocahontas narrative that began in earnest in the nineteenth century, the capture of Pocahontas seems to drop out of the overall story entirely. This apparent absence is misleading, however; rather than being forgotten completely, the focus of the story shifted away from the kidnapping toward one of its significant results: the conversion of Pocahontas to the Christian faith. Finally, with Linwood Custalow's The True Story of Pocahontas (2007), the captivity story has entered a new stage. Within this recent work we see the attempt of Pocahontas's descendants to reclaim the Pocahontas narrative. In doing so, they not only address the captivity of Pocahontas in a manner detached from the mythology but also introduce new elements hitherto unheard of, elements carrying startling implications.
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[4] In addressing how and why the captivity of Pocahontas has dropped out of the story and the reasons for its absence, it becomes necessary first to analyze where the record of the event appears. The basis of what we know about the kidnapping of Pocahontas comes from the writing of two Jamestown residents, Samuel Purchas and Ralph Hamor.
[5] In 1613, Samuel Purchas provided the earliest description of the event in his personal travelogue, His Pilgrimage. Purchas gives an account notable not only for its status as the first description of the abduction but also for its brevity. He introduces the enigmatic figure of Captain Samuel Argall as the architect of the kidnapping, but he fails to delve into Argall's personality or the reasons behind his presence at the colony.[1] He implies that Argall was involved with the management of the settlement in some capacity, as is evidenced by Purchas's claim that Argall actively sent written reports on the colony's welfare to the Virginia Company (759). In a single sentence, Purchas summarizes Argall's capture of Pocahontas: "They tooke Pokahuntis prisoner, and for her ransome had Corne, and redeliverie of their prisoners and weapons" (759). Given Purchas's earlier description, we can infer that the kidnapping took place sometime in 1613.
[6] In 1615, Ralph Hamor, who served as secretary for the colony and acted as a personal envoy to the Powhatan chiefdom, expanded upon Purchas's brief description in his A True Discourse of the Present State of Virginia. One particularly significant aspect of this early account is Hamor's justification of Captain Argall's actions. For example, Hamor claims that the kidnapping was entirely retaliatory in nature. Hamor posits Powhatan and the tribes under his command as the aggressor in a conflict between the two peoples, stating that Captain Argall took action merely to reclaim "eight of [his] English men, many swords, peeces, and other tooles," which he contends had been taken from the colonists "at severall times by the trecherous murdering [of their] men" (5).
[7] Furthermore, Hamor's account is intriguing because it includes a description of a betrayal on the part of Japazaws, an Indian chief under Powahatan's direction. According to Hamor, Japazaws traded Pocahontas to Argall in exchange for "a small Copper kettle, and some other less valuable toies so highly by him esteemed, that doubtlesse he would have betrayed his owne father for them" (5). By including this description and the information regarding the goods used to obtain the princess, Hamor deflects some additional blame away from the English. Under these circumstances, her abduction by the English becomes less a kidnapping than a commercial bargain resulting in part from her own people's greed and opportunism.
[8] Also appearing during this period was an early visual depiction of the kidnapping in the form of an engraving by Theodore de Bry. This piece is significant because, unlike the now iconographic illustrations of the captivity of John Smith and his alleged rescue by Pocahontas, there exist only a few visual depictions of the capture of Pocahontas. Created in 1634 and titled plainly as The Capture of Pocahontas, the engraving stands as one of three pieces related to the Pocahontas narrative produced for the multi-volume travel guide, America. As with the writings of Ralph Hamor, we see within this image an implied justification for the kidnapping. Billowing plumes of smoke obscure the skyline as English-style cottages nestled within the background burn. In the middle and foreground, Captain Argall whisks Pocahontas aboard a ship in an apparent retaliation for an Indian-engineered attack.
[9] Even in this early depiction, we see how the Pocahontas captivity narrative began to change. Although the burning of the homes certainly adds a dramatic element to the piece, Theodore de Bry takes an artistic liberty inconsistent with the descriptions from Purchas and Hamor. It seems likely that de Bry combined those accounts of the kidnapping with information regarding the 1622 Indian attack that killed nearly a third of the colonists and began a protracted conflict between the two peoples. Owing to this combination, the colonists are once again portrayed as victims of Indian aggression who adopt kidnapping only after facing violent actions from an active and capable enemy.
[10] One intriguing question that these early depictions raise is why the English would feel so compelled to justify their actions. The English inherited a practice of captive-taking from medieval warfare, with prisoners utilized as bargaining tools. Nor was the notion of whites capturing Indians an entirely novel concept, even at the time of Pocahontas's capture in 1613. Indeed, one initial exposure to the American natives that England received had came through three Inuits taken in 1577 by Martin Frobisher during a voyage to Baffin Island (McDermott 190). Frobisher had initially taken the captives to use as leverage toward the return of several of his own men who had gone missing in an expedition days earlier and were believed to be held by the Baffin Island Inuits. After failing to retrieve his lost sailors, Frobisher returned to England with his captives in tow, where all three quickly succumbed to European diseases against which they had no prior exposure and immunity. Although Frobisher had essentially kidnapped these people, he faced no repercussions from his own government for their abduction; instead, he was treated as a hero who had survived conflict in foreign lands while, in the customary manner, acquiring appropriate spoils of war (Mcdermott 191).
[11] This event began a practice of prisoner-taking in America that extended into the seventeenth century and beyond. Hostage exchange grew into a well-established method of negotiation for both the English and the tribes constituting the Powhatan chiefdom, and both sides took prisoners in order to bargain for concessions from the other. The capture of Indians for use as informants was also not unheard of during this period. Once in the hands of the colonists, many captives were taught English and trained for use as translators or released back into their tribes as spies (Strong 43).
[12] The English also entertained the possibility of capturing natives for purposes of servitude. Indeed some evidence indicates that the colonists viewed the native population as a potential source of labor available as an alternative to slaves brought from the Ivory Coast or expensive indentured servants from the British Isles. Hamor alludes to this possibility in A True Discourse. Of the native population, he writes, "They are easily taught, and may lenitie and fair usage . . . be brought, being naturally though ingenious, yet idly given, to be no less industrious, nay to exceed our English" (2). Hamor claims the then deputy-governor of the colony, Sir Thomas Dale, began exploring this possibility and that by 1614 he had already found ways to "[make] use of them" (2). In what capacity Dale utilized the natives, Hamor does not detail. Ultimately, the arrival of Dutch ships to the colony in 1619 with their cargo of black slaves would mitigate the need for large-scale development of the native population as a source of slave labor, but the evidence suggests that the notion of kidnapping and enslaving Indians would not have been particularly repulsive to the English.
[13] The question about why the colonists would feel so compelled to justify the kidnapping finds its answer in the nature of their chosen captive rather than in the action itself. Ultimately, the capture of Pocahontas was problematic for the English in these early accounts specifically because of the royal status that the English themselves had attributed to her. Through their recognition of Powhatan as a sovereign king, his daughter Pocahontas became more than merely a native prisoner. She was elevated to the same stature as a European princess and was thereby entitled to the rights and privileges that such a station would entail. Her position of royalty within the minds of the English has been well established within the historical documents, with her treatment upon her arrival in England and the reception she received within the English court serving as the most salient examples.
[14] Her royal status carried with it some serious implications for those interacting with her. Robert Beverley reports that James I accused John Rolfe of committing high treason because he "[presumed] to marry a Princess Royal without the King's Consent" (44). Although a "savage" princess, Pocahontas was a princess nonetheless, and James seems to have berated John Rolfe for exceeding the boundaries prescribed to his class by marrying her. While the capture of prisoners in war would have otherwise been considered acceptable, those responsible for the capture of a sovereign king's daughter could have potentially faced serious repercussions. A fear of reprisal from king and law therefore suggests why the early depictions of the kidnapping were so defensive in nature.
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[15] The captivity of Pocahontas drops out of the narrative beyond these early accounts and depictions of the colony. In most histories appearing during the eighteenth century, such as William Stith's History of the First Discovery and Settlement of Virginia, the abduction receives brief mention, rarely garnering any kind of detailed explication, and usually it is simply paraphrased from Hamor's description. In the nineteenth century, when painters and writers truly began utilizing the narrative to achieve their artistic and often political ends, the abduction aspect of the narrative became further relegated to the obscure corners of history. Aside from a few notable exceptions, such as Robert Dale Owen's historical play, Pocahontas, and John Davis's fourth historical novel, The First Settlers of Virginia, most interpretations of the narrative arising from this period looked to the captivity and rescue of John Smith for their dramatic elements and tacitly ignored its companion captivity story.
[16] The absence of the Pocahontas captivity within these works is strange considering its potential context within the genre of the American captivity narrative, a genre that invariably includes the Smith captivity. Although the tradition of such tales traces it roots to mid-sixteenth-century accounts of individuals taken prisoner by Barbary pirates (incidentally, a situation which John Smith also claimed to have experienced first-hand), the genre gained a new context on the American frontier, effectively enchanting the reading public and solidifying the captivity narrative as a distinctly American literary form.
[17] Unlike the Barbary captivity narratives, the Indian captors featured in the American captivity narratives shared a geographical location with their captives. This proximity allowed for a certain degree of variation among narrative forms and endeared the American public to the genre as the tales of adventure focused on familiar regions with personal connections. Whereas the Barbary narratives largely revolved around the basic plot of sailors being taken captive in waters along the African coast, the American captivity narratives took their settings literally from the own backyards, yielding stories as diverse as the American landscape and the numerous tribes inhabiting it. Narratives included tales of attempts at capture that failed, the assimilation of captives into a captor's tribe, dangerous escapes, rescues, and forced marches across harsh terrain.
[18] Although few, if any, of the narratives within this tradition featured an Indian captive in the hands of whites, in many ways the Pocahontas captivity story seems as though it would have been suitable for fictionalization. It contains the necessary elements that could have yielded a compelling story in the hands of a skilled dramaticist: a princess, a romance, a redemption, and even a villain in the person of Captain Argall. Because of the story's roots in local historical events, a fictionalized version of the event would have played upon the reading public's existing interest in the subject matter and also could have gained an air of authenticity (a property that artists working with other elements of the narrative such as the Smith captivity were quick to utilize in their favor). Yet, most artistic representations arising during this period chose not delve into this subject.
[19] The most obvious explanation for the abduction's absence from the majority of the adaptations appearing in the in the early nineteenth century rests on the notion that artists did not want to romanticize kidnapping that their ancestors had engineered. As the heirs of that history, it seems likely that they would be wary of perpetuating that negative event. If this were a full explanation for why the kidnapping was ultimately excluded, however, it would seem likely that the event would come into play during the emerging sectional conflict between the North and the South. As tensions between the sections escalated, it seems curious that Northerners did not look to the kidnapping of Pocahontas as an example of New England superiority. Showing that the Old Dominion was founded upon the veneration of a woman whom the Virginians had forcibly captured and assimilated could have helped elevate their own myths of American origin: those of the Mayflower and its descendants (Abrams).
[20] Ultimately, because the captivity of Pocahontas existed as such an integral part of the overall narrative, the subject could not have been avoided entirely. The event is maintained within the mythology, but not as a captivity story. Through a clever transmogrification, the focus in depictions and iterations of the narrative shifted away entirely from the act of the kidnapping and onto Pocahontas's role as "the first Christian ever of [her] nation" (Smith). By focusing on Pocahontas's conversion to Christianity, the circumstances leading to that result become obscured.
[21] The ultimate manifestation of this transformation within the artistic representations from the nineteenth century comes from John Gadsby Chapman's The Baptism of Pocahontas (1840). The fact that the United States Capitol Rotunda houses this painting carries some profound implications. Robert S. Tilton describes the baptism as "the least politically sensitive incident in her life" that Chapman could have chosen to portray from the viewpoint of white mid-nineteenth-century Americans, but this claim remains questionable, considering the circumstances of the baptism (128). While Tilton makes a valid argument that other aspects of her life, such as the rescue of John Smith and her reception within the English court, would have posed significant problems as subjects for canonization with the Capitol, the baptism also carried the potential to become a very problematic subject matter. After all, we do not know the exact circumstances surrounding her conversion. The baptism occurred during a situation of considerable duress. If the conversion resulted from force, as did the kidnapping leading up to it that put her in the hands of the English and thereby gave her the opportunity to convert in the first place, Chapman's painting becomes a portrayal of religious subjugation rather than of spiritual redemption.
[22] The captivity of Pocahontas served a greater purpose to the fledgling nation through this transformation. Rather than stand as an instance of colonial oppression and a shameful reminder of a dubious beginning, she became an ally and a savior of the budding nation. Her captivity served as the catalyst necessary for bringing about an event of much greater significance. In the minds of scholars and artists, her eagerness to convert to Christianity began to spill over into the circumstances of her capture, and her transfer to the hands of the English became viewable as a kind of assimilation rather than a perilous foray orchestrated by a cunning sea captain and privateer. In essence, through her willingness to convert to her captor's religion, she morphed into a kind of "willing captive."
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[23] Although forgotten during the primary era of mythologizing and artistic interpretation, within the past hundred years scholars and artists have begun to address aspects of the Pocahontas captivity. We see one initial instance of this trend in Jean Leon Gerome Ferris's 1910 painting, The Abduction of Pocahontas. Ferris, a Pennsylvania native, was a prolific early twentieth-century painter who selected his subject matter from popular scenes in American history. Set at the moment of Argall's arrival in Jamestown with Pocahontas under his control, the piece stands as the first direct visual depiction of the capture of Pocahontas since Theodore de Bry's 1634 engravings.
[24] Although the painting represents a move toward inclusion of the event within the overall narrative, there remains visible within the piece a certain deflective quality produced by the juxtaposition between Argall and the residents of Jamestown. Positioned on the left-hand side of the painting, a smug Captain Argall stands proudly before his captive prize. On the right, a shocked crowd of Jamestown citizens, led by Sir Thomas Gates, listens to Pocahontas as she recounts the atrocity performed against her by the cunning privateer. While the painting does directly address the kidnapping of Pocahontas, it does so in a manner still attached to an imperialist agenda: it promotes the idea that the Jamestown residents were inherently virtuous in their own actions and that Pocahontas saw them as benevolent helpers rather than as the architects of her imprisonment.
[25] More recently, the captivity of Pocahontas has received increasing attention from scholars as well. Of particular significance is Dr. Linwood Custalow's book, The True Story of Pocahontas (2007). Not only does this book include the first major scholarly analysis of the Pocahontas captivity, but it also carries with it additional significance owing to the fact that Pocahontas's direct descendants perform the analysis. In his book, Custalow attempts to separate myth from truth by revealing the oral history passed down through generations by the Mattaponi tribe; but in doing so he also introduces new elements to the Pocahontas Captivity story hitherto unconsidered.
[26] Custalow presents a very startling account of the capture of and marriage of Pocahontas, one quite different from descriptions previously established. He denies the claim that Japazaw betrayed Pocahontas to Captain Argall. Custalow insists that Japazaw reluctantly transferred Pocahontas to Argall because he found himself overpowered by the military might of the English. In giving up Pocahontas, Japazaws fulfilled his duty to "seek the good of the tribe" (49). Had Japazaws refused Argall's demands, he would have compromised the lives of numerous individuals within his tribe. Custalow denies Hamor's claim that any trade for Pocahontas took place. He claims the English commonly entered a village, took anything they wanted by force, and then left some token "payment" for the stolen goods. Cutalow argues that the copper pot given to Japazaw was one such false payment designed to discredit the Indian chief (51).
[27] Another addition from oral history that Custalow makes to the story relates to Pocahontas's marital status. According to Mattaponi tribal history, Pocahontas was married to a Native and had a young son at the time of her capture (47). Custalow claims that the English murdered Pocahontas's husband, Kocoum, shortly after her abduction (89). With this contention in mind, it seems increasingly more likely that Pocahontas's acceptance of Rolfe's marriage proposal was indeed a decision made under a considerable amount of duress.
[28] Arguably the most shocking claim made in the book relates directly to the circumstances of Pocahontas's captivity. According to Custalow, the English colonists repeatedly raped Pocahontas while she was held prisoner. He posits Sir Thomas Dale, the then governor of the colony, as the true father of Thomas Rolfe (64). If Custalow's assertion carries any truth, numerous families claiming descent from Pocahontas would need to reassess the nature of their ancestors, and aristocratic names such as Bolling would evoke shame rather than pride. Furthermore, John Gadsby Chapman's painting would gain a certain heinous character. In addition to the painting's portrayal of a native captive, the Capitol Rotunda is further sullied by the rape of that prisoner and the refusal to acknowledge the truth.
[29] Although Custalow's book stands as a move toward recognition of the Pocahontas captivity within the overall narrative, it brings serious problems as well. Owing to Custalow's heavy reliance on Mattaponi oral tradition for his information, readers must decide which sources of data are the more legitimate: the physical records penned by the colonists or the oral records of the Mattaponi tribe handed down for generations. Both of these sources are problematic, as each side had an incentive to alter its own records and skew the narrative in ways that would portray its position in a better light. The book's greatest significance comes from the very fact that – four hundred years after Jamestown's founding – it raises such questions about what historical sources should gain consideration. Future treatments of the Pocahontas story need to address the narrative with this in mind. Whether integration of the Pocahontas captivity into the overall narrative will take place as a result of further investigation into these questions, only time will tell.
Notes
[1] To this day Samuel Argall remains a mysterious figure in American history. Historians have pieced together what we do know about Argall from colonial records as well as Argall's own sparse correspondence. Recently, William T. Vollmann's novel Argall (2001) has brought attention to this historical figure in a highly inventive manner. For more information, see the entry on Argall at The Dictionary of Canadian Biography Online.
Works Cited
Abrams, Ann Uhry. The Pilgrims and Pocahontas: Rival Myths of American Origin. Boulder: Westview Press, 1999.
Beverly, Robert. The History and Present State of Virginia. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 1947.
Chapman, John Gadsby. "The Baptism of Pocahontas." 1840. <http://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/File:Baptism_of_Pocahontas.jpg>.
Custalow, Linwood, and Angela L. Daniel. The True Story of Pocahontas. Golden: Fulcrum, 2007.
de Bry, Theodore. The Capture of Pocahontas. 1634. <http://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/File:The_Abduction_of_Pocahontas.jpg>.
Dictionary of Canadian Biography. "Argall, Sir Samuel." 18, March 2009. <http://www.biographi.ca/009004-119.01-e.php?&id_nbr=27>.
Ferris, Jean Leone Gerome. The Abduction of Pocahontas. 1910.
Hamor, Ralph. "A True Discourse of the Present State of Virginia." Virtual Jamestown. <http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/etcbin/jamestown-browse?id=J1004>.
McDermott, James. Martin Frobisher: Elizabethan Privateer. New Haven: Yale UP, 2001.
Purchas, Samuel. "Purchas his Pilgrimage." The Open Library. <http://openlibrary.org/details/
purchashispilgri00purc>.
Smith, John. "John Smith's 1616 Letter to Queen Anne of Great Britain." Digital History.
<http://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/learning_history/pocohontas/
pocahontas_smith_letter.cfm>.
Strong, Pauline Turner. Captive Selves, Captivating Others: The Politics and Poetics of Colonial American Captivity Narratives. Boulder: Westview Press, 1999.
Tilton, Robert S. Pocahontas: The Evolution of an American Narrative. New York: Cambridge UP, 1994.