King Phillip's War
But the real danger to New England came not from those Indians who
occupied reservations and hung around the settlements, but from those who,
with savage spirit unbroken, were slowly being driven from their
hunting-grounds and nurtured an implacable hatred against the aggressive
and relentless pioneers. The New Englanders numbered at this time some
80,000 individuals, with an adult and fighting population of perhaps
16,000; while the number of the Indians altogether may have reached as
high as 12,000, with the Narragansetts, the strongest of all, mustering
4,000. The final struggle for possession of the main part of central and
southern New England territory came in 1675, in what is known as King
Philip's War.
Scarcely had the fears aroused by the arrival of a Dutch fleet at
New York and the capture of that city been allayed by the peace of
Westminster in 1674, when rumors of Indian unrest began to spread through
the settlements, and the dread of Indian outbreaks began to arouse new
apprehensions in the hearts of the people. Hitherto no Indian chieftain
had proved himself a born leader of his people. Neither Sessaquem,
Sassacus, Pumham, Uncas, nor Miantonomo had been able to quiet tribal
jealousies and draw to his standard against the English others than his
own immediate followers. But now appeared a sachem who was the equal of
any in hatred of the white man and the superior of all in generalship, who
was gifted both with the power of appeal to the younger Indians and with
the finesse required to rouse other chieftains to a war of vengeance.
Philip, or Metacom, was the second son of old Massasoit, the longtime
friend of the English, and, upon the death of his elder brother Alexander
in 1662, became the head of the Wampanoags, with his seat at Mount Hope, a
promontory extending into Narragansett Bay. Believing that his people had
been wronged by the English, particularly by those of Plymouth colony, and
foreseeing that he and his people were to be driven step by step westward
into narrower and more restricted quarters, he began to plot a great
campaign of extermination. On June 24, 1675, a body of Indians fell on the
town of Swansea, on the eastern side of Narragansett Bay, slew nine of the
inhabitants and wounded seven others. Though assistance was sent from
Massachusetts and Plymouth, the burning and massacring continued,
extending to Rehoboth, Taunton, and towns northward. The settlements were
isolated before the troops could reach them, their inhabitants were slain,
cabins were burned, and prisoners were carried into captivity. The Rhode
Islanders fled to the islands; elsewhere settlers gathered in garrisoned
forts and blockhouses and in new forts hastily erected.
Though the authorities of Connecticut and Massachusetts sent agents
among the Nipmucks hoping to prevent their alliance with Philip, the
effort failed, and by August the tribes on the upper Connecticut had
joined the movement and now began a determined and systematic destruction
of the settlements in central New England. The famous massacre and burning
of Deerfield took place on September 12, the surviving inhabitants fleeing
to Hatfield, leaving their town in ruins. Hatfield, Northfield,
Springfield, and Westfield were attacked in turn, and though the defense
was sometimes successful, more often the defenders were ambushed and
killed. So widespread was the uprising that during the autumn, a desultory
warfare was carried on as far north as Falmouth, Brunswick, and Casco Bay,
where at least fifty Englishmen were slain by members of the Saco and
Androscoggin tribes.
As yet the Narragansetts, bravest of all the southern New England
Indians, whose chief was Canonchet, son of the murdered Miantonomo, had
taken no part in the war. But as rumor spread that they had welcomed
Philip and listened to his appeals and were probably planning to join in
the murderous fray, war was declared against them on November 2, 1675, and
a force of a thousand men and horse from Plymouth and Massachusetts was
drawn up on Dedham plain, under the command of General Josiah Winslow and
Captain Benjamin Church. On December 19, the greater part of this force,
aided by troops from Connecticut, fell on the Narragansetts in their swamp
fort, south of the present town of Kingston, and after a fierce and bloody
fight completely routed them, though at a heavy loss. The tribe was driven
from its own territory, and Canonchet fled to the Connecticut River, where
he established a rallying point for new forays. His followers allied
themselves with the Wampanoags and Nip-mucks and began a new series of
massacres. In February and March, 1676, they fell upon Lancaster, where
they carried off Mrs. Rowlandson, who has left us a narrative of her
captivity; upon Medfield, where fifty houses were burned; and upon
Weymouth and Marlborough, which were raided and in part destroyed.
Repeated assaults in other quarters kept the western frontier of
Massachusetts in a frightful condition of terror; settlers were ambushed
and scalped, others were tortured, and many were carried into captivity.
Even the Pennacooks of southern New Hampshire were roused to action,
though their share in the war was small. Here a hundred warriors sacked a
village; there Indians skulking along trails and on the outskirts of towns
cut off individuals and groups of individuals, shooting, scalping, and
burning them. No one was safe. Again the commissioners of the United
Colonies met in council and ordered a more vigorous prosecution of the
campaign. More troops were levied and garrison posts fortified, but the
first results were disastrous. Captain Pierce of Scituate was ambushed at
Black-stone's River near Rehoboth, and his command was completely wiped
out. Sudbury was destroyed in April, and a relieving force escaped only
with heavy loss.
But the strength of the Indians was waning. Canonchet, run to earth
near the Pawtuxet River, was captured and sentenced to death, and his
execution was entrusted to Oneko, the son of Uncas. His head was cut off
and carried to Hartford, and his body was committed to the flames. The
loss of Canonchet was a bitter blow to Philip, who now saw his allies
falling away and himself deserted by all but a few faithful followers. The
campaign — at last well in hand and directed by that prince of Indian
fighters, Benjamin Church, now commissioned a colonel by General Winslow —
was approaching an end. Using friendly savages as scouts, Colonel Church
gradually located and captured stray bodies of Indians and brought them as
captives to Plymouth. Finally, coming on the trail of Philip himself, he
first intercepted his followers, and then, relentlessly pursuing the
fleeing chieftain from one point to another, tracked him to his lair at
his old stronghold, Mount Hope. There the great chief who had terrorized
New England for nearly a year was slain by one of his own race. His
ornaments and treasure were seized by the soldiers, and his crown, gorget,
and two belts, all of gold and silver of Indian make, were sent as a
present to Charles II. With the death of Philip, August 12, 1676, the
whole movement collapsed, and the remaining hostile Indians, dispersed and
in flight, with their leaders gone and starvation threatening, sought
refuge among the northern tribes.- Thus the last effort to check the
English advance in southern and central New England was brought to an end.
From this time on, the Indians in Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and
Connecticut lingered for a century and a half, a steadily dwindling
remnant, wards of the governments and occupants of reservations, until
,they ceased to exist as a separate people. '
The havoc wrought by the war was a great blow to the prosperity of
New England. Probably more than six hundred whites had been slain or
captured, and hundreds of houses and a score of villages had been burnt or
pillaged; crops had been destroyed, cattle driven off, and agriculture in
many quarters brought to a complete standstill. In 1676, there was little
leisure to sow and less to reap. Provisions became increasingly scarce;
none could be had near at hand, for none of the colonies had a surplus;
and attempts to obtain them from a distance proved unavailing. Staples for
trade with the West Indies decreased; the fur trade was curtailed; and
fishing was hampered for want of men. To add to the confusion, a plague
vexed the colonies. It seemed to all as if the hand of God lay heavily
upon New England, and days of humiliation and prayer were appointed to
assuage the wrath of the Almighty. A Massachusetts act of November, 1675,
ascribed the war to the judgment of God upon the colony for its sins,
among which were included an excess of apparel, the wearing of long hair,
and the rudeness of worship, all marks of an apostasy from the Lord "with
a great backsliding." The Puritan fear of divine displeasure adds a
relieving note to the general despondency and must have stiffened the
determination of the orthodox leaders to resist to the utmost all attempts
to liberalize the life of the colony or to alter its character as a
religious state patterned after the divine plan. King Philip's War
probably strengthened the position of the conservative element in
Massachusetts.
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