It was in the valley of the Merrimack that Whittier located the scene
of his famous poem, the "Bridal of Pennacook." This American epic
tells--
"A story of the marriage of the chief
Of Saugus to the dusky Weetamoo,
Daughter of Passaconaway, who dwelt
In the old time upon the Merrimack."
Winnepurkit was the son of Nanapashemet, or the New Moon, and was the
Sagamore of Saugus, Naumkeag, and the adjoining domain. He was of
noble blood and valor, and for his bride chose the daughter of
Passaconaway, the great chief, ruling all the tribes in the Merrimack
Valley, who lived at Pennacook, now Concord. Not only was Passaconaway
a mighty chief, but he was also the greatest Powah or wizard of his
time, the colonial annalists gravely telling that he could make trees
dance, waters burn, and green leaves grow in winter, through his
necromancy. When Winnepurkit married this wizard's daughter, great was
the feasting at this "Bridal of Pennacook." Then Passaconaway caused a
select party of warriors to escort his daughter to her husband's home
at Saugus, where they received princely entertainment. Not long
afterwards the bride expressed a wish to again see her father and her
home at Pennacook, whereupon her husband sent her thither, escorted by
a trusty band, who were graciously received and rewarded. After some
time Weetamoo desired to return to Saugus, and her father sent word of
this to his son-in-law by messengers, requesting that a suitable guard
be provided to escort her down. But Winnepurkit liked not this method,
and bade the messengers return with this reply, "That when his wife
departed from him he caused his own men to wait upon her to her
father's territories, as did become him; but now that she had an
intent to return, it did become her father to send her back with a
convoy of his own people, and that it stood not with Winnepurkit's
reputation either to make himself or his men so servile as to fetch
her again." This reply, as may be imagined, ruffled the old chief, and
he sent a sharp answer "That his daughter's blood and birth deserved
more respect than to be slighted in such a manner, and therefore, if
Winnepurkit would have her company, he were best to send or come for
her." Neither would yield the point of Indian etiquette, and the
colonial narrator leaves it to be inferred that she then remained with
her father, though it is supposed she subsequently rejoined her
husband. The poet has made good use of the story, illustrating the
scenery of the region with great felicity, but giving the tale a
highly dramatic ending. Whittier makes the heart-broken bride, in her
effort to return to her husband, launch her canoe upon the swollen
Merrimack above the falls at Amoskeag when a spring freshet was
bringing down masses of ice:
"Down the vexed centre of that rushing tide,
The thick, huge ice-blocks threatening either side,
The foam-white rocks of Amoskeag in view,
With arrowy swiftness sped that light canoe.
"Sick and aweary of her lonely life,
Heedless of peril, the still faithful wife
Had left her mother's grave, her father's door,
To seek the wigwam of her chief once more!
"Down the white rapids, like a sere leaf whirled,
On the sharp rocks and piled-up ices hurled,
Empty and broken, circled the canoe,
In the vexed pool below--but where was Weetamoo?"