At this distant period, when Indian traditions are listened to with the
interest that we lend to the events of a dark age, it is not easy to
convey a vivid image of the dangers and privations that our ancestors
encountered, in preparing the land we enjoy for its present state of
security and abundance. It is the humble object of the tale that will be
found in the succeeding pages, to perpetuate the recollection of some of
the practices and events peculiar to the early days of our history.
The general character of the warfare pursued by the natives is too well
known to require any preliminary observations; but it may be advisable to
direct the attention of the reader, for a few moments, to those leading
circumstances in the history of the times, that may have some connexion
with the principal business of the legend.
The territory which now composes the three states of Massachusetts,
Connecticut and Rhode-Island, is said, by the best-informed of our
annalists, to have been formerly occupied by four great nations of
Indians, who were, as usual, subdivided into numberless dependent tribes.
Of these people, the Massachusetts possessed a large portion of the land
which now composes the state of that name; the Wampanoags dwelt in what
was once the Colony of Plymouth, and in the northern districts of the
Providence Plantations; the Narragansetts held the well-known islands of
the beautiful bay which receives its name from their nation, and the more
southern counties of the Plantations; while the Pequots, or as it is
ordinarily written and pronounced, the Pequods, were masters of a broad
region that lay along the western boundaries of the three other districts.
There is great obscurity thrown around the polity of the Indians, who
usually occupied the country lying near the sea.
The Europeans, accustomed to despotic governments, very naturally supposed
that the chiefs, found in possession of power, were monarchs to whom
authority had been transmitted in virtue of their birth-rights. They
consequently gave them the name of kings.
How far this opinion of the governments of the aborigines was true remains
a question, though there is certainly reason to think it less erroneous in
respect to the tribes of the Atlantic states, than to those who have since
been found further west, where, it is sufficiently known, that
institutions exist which approach much nearer to republics than to
monarchies. It may, however, have readily happened that the son, profiting
by the advantages of his situation, often succeeded to the authority of
the father, by the aid of influence, when the established regulations of
the tribe acknowledged no hereditary claim. Let the principle of the
descent of power be what it would, it is certain the experience of our
ancestors proves, that, in very many instances, the child was seen to
occupy the station formerly filled by the father; and, that in most of
those situations of emergency, in which a people so violent were often
placed, the authority he exercised was as summary as it was general. The
appellation of Incas came, like those of the Cæsars and Pharoahs, to be a
sort of synonyme for chief with the Mohegans, a tribe of the Pequods,
among whom several warriors of this name were known to govern in due
succession. The renowned Metacom, or, as he is better known to the whites,
King Philip, was certainly the son of Massassoit, the Sachem of the
Wampanoags that the emigrants found in authority when they landed on the
rock of Plymouth. Miantonimoh, the daring but hapless rival of that Uncas
who ruled the whole of the Pequod nation, was succeeded in authority,
among the Narragansetts, by his not less heroic and enterprising son,
Conanchet; and, even at a much later day, we find instances of this
transmission of power, which furnish strong reasons for believing that the
order of succession was in the direct line of blood.
The early annals of our history are not wanting in touching and noble
examples of savage heroism. Virginia has its legend of the powerful
Powhatan and his magnanimous daughter, the ill-requited Pocahontas; and
the chronicles of New-England are filled with the bold designs and daring
enterprises of Miantonimoh, of Metacom, and of Conanchet. All the
last-named warriors proved themselves worthy of better fates, dying in a
cause and in a manner, that, had it been their fortunes to have lived in a
more advanced state of society, would have enrolled their names among the
worthies of the age.
The first serious war, to which the settlers of New-England were exposed,
was the struggle with the Pequods. This people was subdued after a fierce
conflict; and from being enemies, all, who were not either slain or sent
into distant slavery, were glad to become the auxiliaries of their
conquerors. This contest occurred within less than twenty years after the
Puritans had sought refuge in America.
There is reason to believe that Metacom foresaw the fate of his own
people, in the humbled fortunes of the Pequods. Though his father had been
the earliest and constant friend of the whites, it is probable that the
Puritans owed some portion of this amity to a dire necessity. We are told
that a terrible malady had raged among the Wampanoags but a short time
before the arrival of the emigrants, and that their numbers had been
fearfully reduced by its ravages. Some authors have hinted at the
probability of this disease having been the yellow fever, whose
visitations are known to be at uncertain, and, apparently, at very distant
intervals. Whatever might have been the cause of this destruction of his
people, Massassoit is believed to have been induced, by the consequences,
to cultivate the alliance of a nation, who could protect him against the
attacks of his ancient and less afflicted foes. But the son appears to
have viewed the increasing influence of the whites with eyes more jealous
than those of the father. He passed the morning of his life in maturing
his great plan for the destruction of the strange race, and his later
years were spent in abortive attempts to put this bold design in
execution. His restless activity in plotting the confederation against the
English, his fierce and ruthless manner of waging the war, his defeat, and
his death, are too well known to require repetition.
There is also a wild and romantic interest thrown about the obscure
history of a Frenchman of that period. This man is said to have been an
officer of rank in the service of his king, and to have belonged to the
privileged class which then monopolized all the dignities and emoluments
of the kingdom of France. The traditions, and even the written annals of
the first century of our possession of America, connect the Baron de la
Castine with the Jesuits, who were thought to entertain views of
converting the savages to Christianity, not unmingled with the desire of
establishing a more temporal dominion over their minds. It is, however,
difficult to say whether taste, or religion, or policy, or necessity,
induced this nobleman to quit the saloons of Paris for the wilds of the
Penobscot. It is merely known that he passed the greater part of his life
on that river, in a rude fortress that was then called a palace, that he
had many wives, a numerous progeny, and that he possessed a great
influence over most of the tribes that dwelt in his vicinity. He is also
believed to have been the instrument of furnishing the savages, who were
hostile to the English, with ammunition, and with weapons of a more deadly
character than those used in their earlier wars. In whatever degree he may
have participated in the plan to exterminate the Puritans, death prevented
him from assisting in the final effort of Metacom.
The Narragansetts are often mentioned in these pages. A few years before
the period at which the tale commences, Miantonimoh had waged a ruthless
war against Uncas, the Pequod or Mohegan chief. Fortune favored the
latter, who, probably assisted by his civilized allies, not only overthrew
the bands of the other, but succeeded in capturing the person of his
enemy. The chief of the Narragansetts lost his life, through the agency of
the whites, on the place that is now known by the appellation of "the
Sachem's plain."
It remains only to throw a little light on the leading incidents of the
war of King Philip. The first blow was struck in June, 1675, rather more
than half a century after the English first landed in New-England, and
just a century before blood was drawn in the contest which separated the
colonies from the mother country. The scene was a settlement near the
celebrated Mount Hope, in Rhode-Island, where Metacom and his father had
both long held their councils. From this point, bloodshed and massacre
extended along the whole frontier of New-England. Bodies of horse and foot
were enrolled to meet the foe, and towns were burnt, and lives were taken
by both parties, with little, and often with no respect for age,
condition, or sex.
In no struggle with the native owners of the soil was the growing power of
the whites placed in so great jeopardy, as in this celebrated contest with
King Philip. The venerable historian of Connecticut estimates the loss of
lives at nearly one-tenth of the whole number of the fighting men, and the
destruction of houses and other edifices to have been in an equal
proportion. One family in every eleven, throughout all New-England, was
burnt out. As the colonists nearest the sea were exempt from the danger,
an idea may be formed, from this calculation, of the risk and sufferings
of those who dwelt in more exposed situations. The Indians did not escape
without retaliation. The principal nations, already mentioned, were so
much reduced as never afterwards to offer any serious resistance to the
whites, who have since converted the whole of their ancient
hunting-grounds into the abodes of civilized man. Metacom, Miantonimoh,
and Conanchet, with their warriors, have become the heroes of song and
legend, while the descendants of those who laid waste their dominions, and
destroyed their race, are yielding a tardy tribute to the high daring and
savage grandeur of their characters.