but I was answered with if they did me wrong they must answer it.
The 11th of September, I was sent to come before the president and council upon their court day.
They had now made Master Archer recorder of Virginia. The president made a speech to the colony that he thought it fit to acquaint them why I was deposed. I am now forced to stuff my paper with frivolous trifles, that our grave and worthy council may the better strike those veins where the corrupt blood lieth, and that they may see in what manner of government the hope of the colony now travaileth.
âFROM A D ISCOURSE OF V IRGINIA,
BY E DWARD M ARIA W INGFIELD
SEPTEMBER 11 TH , 1607
I THANK G OD THAT I have never undertaken anything yet for which any could tax me of carelessness or dishonesty.
Seeing our former president on trial was a sad lesson for those who would value the state of his own belly above that of the general good. Yet so full of himself was Master Wingfield that he still puffed himself up one moment and the next looked to the heavens like one who has been wronged.
Each on the council voiced his reasons for deposing the former president. John Ratliffe stood with a small bag in his hand and spoke of how Wingfield had refused even the smallest necessities.
"I asked him for a pennywhittle and he denied it to me," Ratliffe said. "Whether my request was that one of the chickens he claimed were his and his alone be given to the common pot or that he grant me but a spoonful of beer, his answer was always a refusal. Instead, he served me with a handful of foul corn."
With that our new President reached into the bag, held up a handful of that corn which was grey and crawling with maggots, and then cast it down upon the earth.
To this, Master Wingfield's sole reply was to sigh like an innocent, then open wide his hands and turn his gaze to the sky. He ignored the muttering of the crowd of men who all had been given their own handfuls of such spoiled victuals by the generous gentleman.
I was next. I aimed my words not at greed, but at his haughtiness.
"He has called me a liar," I said. "He has said that though we are equal here, if he were in England he would think it scornful to make me his companion."
I waited to see if Wingfield would again repeat his own lie, that I had gone as a beggar around Ireland. He did not.
Captain John Martin then spoke. Master Martin is not only a ship's captain, his father is the Master of the Mint and
Lord Mayor of London. This was a gentleman upon whom the gentle Wingfield could not look down.
Captain Martin leaned close to Wingfield, staring him in the eye until Wingfield was forced to turn his own gaze to the ground.
"This man," Martin growled, "is no man at all. He has done slack service in our colony. Indeed, he does nothing but tend his own pot, spit, and oven." Martin clenched his fist and his face grew red. "He hath starved my son and denied him a spoonful of beer. I have friends in England shall be revenged on him, if ever he come to London."
Master Wingfield's own face paled, but seeing Captain Martin take his seat, he took courage.
"Should I answer these complaints?" he drawled. "Or is there aught to charge me withal?"
At that, President Ratliffe pulled out the paper-book loaded with articles against him and gave them to Archer to read.
"Master President," Wingfield protested, "by the instruction of our government, our proceedings ought to be verbal, not written. I desire a copy of these articles and time to answer them likewise in writing."
"That will not be granted," President Ratliffe replied in a voice as cold as stone. But some thought now began to pass through his head. Archer had not read half the complaints before our new president raised his hand.
"Stay, stay," Ratliffe said. "We know not whether he will abide our judgement or appeal to the King. How say you, sir? Will you appeal to the King or no?"
A smile now appeared on Master Wingfield's face, seeing himself thus plucked out of
The 11th of September, I was sent to come before the president and council upon their court day.
They had now made Master Archer recorder of Virginia. The president made a speech to the colony that he thought it fit to acquaint them why I was deposed. I am now forced to stuff my paper with frivolous trifles, that our grave and worthy council may the better strike those veins where the corrupt blood lieth, and that they may see in what manner of government the hope of the colony now travaileth.
âFROM A D ISCOURSE OF V IRGINIA,
BY E DWARD M ARIA W INGFIELD
SEPTEMBER 11 TH , 1607
I THANK G OD THAT I have never undertaken anything yet for which any could tax me of carelessness or dishonesty.
Seeing our former president on trial was a sad lesson for those who would value the state of his own belly above that of the general good. Yet so full of himself was Master Wingfield that he still puffed himself up one moment and the next looked to the heavens like one who has been wronged.
Each on the council voiced his reasons for deposing the former president. John Ratliffe stood with a small bag in his hand and spoke of how Wingfield had refused even the smallest necessities.
"I asked him for a pennywhittle and he denied it to me," Ratliffe said. "Whether my request was that one of the chickens he claimed were his and his alone be given to the common pot or that he grant me but a spoonful of beer, his answer was always a refusal. Instead, he served me with a handful of foul corn."
With that our new President reached into the bag, held up a handful of that corn which was grey and crawling with maggots, and then cast it down upon the earth.
To this, Master Wingfield's sole reply was to sigh like an innocent, then open wide his hands and turn his gaze to the sky. He ignored the muttering of the crowd of men who all had been given their own handfuls of such spoiled victuals by the generous gentleman.
I was next. I aimed my words not at greed, but at his haughtiness.
"He has called me a liar," I said. "He has said that though we are equal here, if he were in England he would think it scornful to make me his companion."
I waited to see if Wingfield would again repeat his own lie, that I had gone as a beggar around Ireland. He did not.
Captain John Martin then spoke. Master Martin is not only a ship's captain, his father is the Master of the Mint and
Lord Mayor of London. This was a gentleman upon whom the gentle Wingfield could not look down.
Captain Martin leaned close to Wingfield, staring him in the eye until Wingfield was forced to turn his own gaze to the ground.
"This man," Martin growled, "is no man at all. He has done slack service in our colony. Indeed, he does nothing but tend his own pot, spit, and oven." Martin clenched his fist and his face grew red. "He hath starved my son and denied him a spoonful of beer. I have friends in England shall be revenged on him, if ever he come to London."
Master Wingfield's own face paled, but seeing Captain Martin take his seat, he took courage.
"Should I answer these complaints?" he drawled. "Or is there aught to charge me withal?"
At that, President Ratliffe pulled out the paper-book loaded with articles against him and gave them to Archer to read.
"Master President," Wingfield protested, "by the instruction of our government, our proceedings ought to be verbal, not written. I desire a copy of these articles and time to answer them likewise in writing."
"That will not be granted," President Ratliffe replied in a voice as cold as stone. But some thought now began to pass through his head. Archer had not read half the complaints before our new president raised his hand.
"Stay, stay," Ratliffe said. "We know not whether he will abide our judgement or appeal to the King. How say you, sir? Will you appeal to the King or no?"
A smile now appeared on Master Wingfield's face, seeing himself thus plucked out of
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