"These natives are a very good people; for when they saw that I would not remain, they supposed that I was afraid of their bows; and, taking their arrows, the broke them in pieces and threw them into the fire"
About this Quote
The line reads like a tidy little parable of mutual goodwill, but it’s also a masterclass in how exploration-era narratives manufacture innocence on both sides. Hudson frames the Indigenous people as “very good” because they anticipate his fear and perform a gesture meant to reassure: breaking their arrows. On the surface, it’s diplomatic theater. Underneath, it’s a selective translation of an encounter into a story that flatters the traveler’s moral universe.
Notice the quiet centering of Hudson’s perspective. Their action is described not as strategy, ritual, or negotiation, but as a response to his presumed emotion: “they supposed that I was afraid.” Whether that fear was real hardly matters; what matters is that Hudson turns Indigenous agency into a mirror for European sensibility. The “good people” are good because they accommodate him, because they manage his anxiety rather than challenge his aims.
There’s also a transactional logic hiding inside the warmth. If the natives disarm, Hudson can read the moment as proof of safety and legitimacy: we are welcome, we are trusted, our presence is not violent. That’s useful for a captain reporting back to financiers and patrons who want assurances that trade, passage, and settlement are feasible. The broken arrows become a kind of receipt.
Context sharpens the stakes. Early seventeenth-century voyages depended on fragile first contacts, and journals often doubled as propaganda, shaping European expectations of “friendly” or “hostile” peoples. Hudson’s sentence compresses an encounter into a moral rating, then files it away as evidence, leaving the larger asymmetry of power and future consequences off the page.
Notice the quiet centering of Hudson’s perspective. Their action is described not as strategy, ritual, or negotiation, but as a response to his presumed emotion: “they supposed that I was afraid.” Whether that fear was real hardly matters; what matters is that Hudson turns Indigenous agency into a mirror for European sensibility. The “good people” are good because they accommodate him, because they manage his anxiety rather than challenge his aims.
There’s also a transactional logic hiding inside the warmth. If the natives disarm, Hudson can read the moment as proof of safety and legitimacy: we are welcome, we are trusted, our presence is not violent. That’s useful for a captain reporting back to financiers and patrons who want assurances that trade, passage, and settlement are feasible. The broken arrows become a kind of receipt.
Context sharpens the stakes. Early seventeenth-century voyages depended on fragile first contacts, and journals often doubled as propaganda, shaping European expectations of “friendly” or “hostile” peoples. Hudson’s sentence compresses an encounter into a moral rating, then files it away as evidence, leaving the larger asymmetry of power and future consequences off the page.
Quote Details
| Topic | Travel |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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