place during the long and bloody wars between the French and English,
called the wars of William and Queen Anne. In June, 1689, instigated
by the French, they surprised Cocheco, part of the town of Dover, New
Hampshire, and killed and took captive about fifty of the inhabitants.
They began depredations, also, in various parts of Maine, plundering,
burning, and carrying off captives, wherever they were able. For ten
years the provinces of New Hampshire and Massachusetts were subjected
to the fury of the savages. Deerfield, on the Connecticut River, was
surprised and burnt, forty persons were killed, and nearly a hundred
men, women, and children led away captive. The eastern settlements,
also, were again ravaged and depopulated. A treaty was at last
concluded in the year 1699. From time to time, however, the war was
renewed, as the French often succeeded in engaging the Indians in
their plans. In 1713, a peace having been agreed upon between the
French and English, the Eastern Indians, who had again been involved in
hostilities with the colonists, sent a flag, desiring peace. A general
pacification ensued, to the great joy of all parties.
We must now turn our attention to the severe contest with the Indians
along the northeastern border, which commenced in 1722. Before the
subjugation of Canada by the British, the New England settlements, as
we have seen, were exposed to the hostilities of the Eastern Indians,
and a spirit of jealousy and revenge was kept up, not only between
the different nations, but between individuals. The boundaries of
the different territories being loosely defined, both sides were
left exposed to real or fancied encroachments, so that pretexts for
war were always at hand. The French Jesuits had planted themselves
among the Indian tribes at an early period; and at the beginning
of the eighteenth century, they had two churches among the Eastern
Indians,--one at Penobscot, and the other at Norridgewock, within the
boundaries of the present State of Maine.
At the latter settlement resided the Jesuit, Sebastian Rasle, a man
of talent, learning, and address, who, by accommodating himself to
the Indian mode of life, and maintaining a gentle, condescending
deportment, had completely won the affection of the savages, and his
influence over them was supreme. Knowing the power of superstition
over their minds, he took advantage of this, and of their prejudice
against the English, to strengthen the interest of the French among
them. He even made the offices of devotion serve as incentives to their
ferocity; he kept a banner, on which was depicted a cross surrounded
by bows and arrows, which he was accustomed to hoist on a pole at the
door of his church, and gave the Indians absolution, previous to their
setting out on a warlike expedition.
The governor of Canada held a constant correspondence with this
Jesuit, and received through his hands information of every thing that
transpired among the tribes in that quarter. From these individuals
the savages received every encouragement to assert their title to
lands occupied by the English, and to molest the settlers, by killing
their cattle, burning their haystacks, and robbing and insulting them.
Many of the inhabitants, alarmed by these demonstrations of hostility,
removed from the frontiers in 1720. The garrisons were reinforced, and
scouting parties were sent abroad, which checked for a time the hostile
movements of the Indians, who were compelled, the same year, to give
hostages for their good behaviour. This last requisition was highly
disrelished by the governor of Canada, who renewed his efforts to keep
up the quarrel, and secretly promised to supply the Indians with arms
and ammunition, although, as Great Britain and France were not then
at war, he could not openly assist them. The New England governments
obtained information of these intrigues; yet, though highly incensed,
they judged it best not to rush into hostilities. The main dispute lay
between the Indians and the proprietors of the eastern lands, and the
public were not directly concerned in it. No blood had as yet been shed
within the limits of the English territory.
Rasle was considered the principal instigator of the Indians, and it
was thought, that, if he were removed, all would be quiet. A proposal
was made to send the sheriff of York County with a posse of a hundred
and fifty men, to seize him and bring him to Boston, but this bold
stroke was not ventured upon. In the summer of 1721, Rasle, in company
with the Count de Castine from Penobscot, and Croisil from Canada,
appeared at one of the English garrisons, and presented a letter,
written in the name of the several Indian tribes to Governor Shute
of Massachusetts, declaring, that, “if the English did not remove in
three weeks, they would kill them and their cattle, and burn their
houses.” The lands in question were comprehended within the limits of
the English patents, and the settlers were considered the only legal
proprietors. They had been accustomed to obtain regular deeds of sale
from the Indians, and pay them a valuable consideration; but some of
these titles were from an obscure and questionable source; and the
memory of such transactions is soon lost among people possessing no
written records. The Indians easily forget the sales made by their
ancestors, or imagine that such bargains are not binding upon their
posterity.
The Massachusetts government, on receiving this menacing epistle, sent
an additional force to the Maine frontiers; and, being desirous to
avoid a rupture, invited the Indians to a conference, from which the
French emissaries were to be excluded. This invitation was treated
with neglect; and in the succeeding winter, a party under Colonel
Westbrooke was ordered to Norridgewock to seize Rasle. They reached the
village undiscovered; but, before they could surround his house, he had
escaped into the woods, leaving his papers in his strong box, which
they brought away, without committing any act of violence. Among these
papers were his letters of correspondence with the governor of Canada,
which afforded positive proof that he was deeply engaged in intrigues
to incite the Indians to hostilities. The savages were enraged at this
attempt to seize their spiritual father, and resolved upon revenge.
In the summer of 1722, they made a descent upon the settlements at
Merry-Meeting Bay, and captured nine families; dismissing some of the
prisoners, they retained enough to secure the redemption of their
hostages in the hands of the English, and sent them off to Canada.
Their next attack was on the fort at St. George, on the Androscoggin,
where they were repulsed with considerable loss. They afterwards
surprised some fishing vessels in the eastern harbours, and at length
made a furious attack on the town of Brunswick, which they destroyed.
These hostilities determined the government of Massachusetts to issue a
declaration of war against them, which was published in form, at Boston
and Portsmouth, on the 25th of July, 1722.
Troops were raised and enlisted for two years’ service, and the
government had no scruples in offering a bounty of forty pounds
sterling for every Indian scalp. This war obtained the name of
“Lovewell’s War,” from Captain John Lovewell, of Dunstable, in New
Hampshire, who was the most prominent commander in the enterprise
against the enemy, and was killed in a severe engagement. Various
incursions were made upon the settlements by the Indians during the
year 1723, and several of the inhabitants were killed and carried into
captivity. On the 10th of June, 1724, a farmer and his son, being at
work on Oyster River, planting corn, went to a brook to drink, and
discovered three Indian packs. They immediately ran to give information
to a company of volunteers, which had lately been raised in the
neighbourhood, for the defence of the frontier. The company marched
towards the spot, but were fired upon from an ambush, and the farmer
and his son, who acted as guides, were both killed. The company then
fired and killed one of the Indians, and wounded two others who made
their escape, though they were pursued and tracked by their blood to a
considerable distance. The slain Indian was a person of distinction,
and wore a species of coronet, made of fur, dyed scarlet, with an
appendage of four small bells, by the sound of which the others might
follow him through the thickets. His hair, contrary to what is almost
universal among the natives, was remarkably soft and fine; and he had
about him a devotional book, and a muster-roll of one hundred and
eighty Indians. From these various circumstances, it was supposed that
he was a natural son of the Jesuit, Rasle, by an Indian woman, who
served him as a domestic.
Garrison-houses were built among the frontier settlements, to which the
inhabitants were warned to repair in time of danger. At Dover there
were many families of Quakers, who, doubting the lawfulness of war,
could not be persuaded to use any means for their defence, although the
Indians never spared them on that account. One of these, John Hanson,
lived remote from the garrison, and refused to take shelter in it with
his family, although he had a large number of children. A party of
thirteen Indians, called French Mohawks, had marked his house for their
prey, and lay several days in ambush, waiting for an opportunity to
attack it. On the 27th of June, while Hanson and his eldest daughter
were gone to attend the weekly meeting, and his two eldest sons were
at work in a meadow at some distance, the Indians entered the house,
killed and scalped two small children, and took his wife, with her
infant of fourteen days old, her nurse, two daughters, and a son, and,
after rifling the house, carried them off. This was done so suddenly
and secretly, that the first person who discovered it was the eldest
daughter, on her return from the meeting. Seeing the two children dead
at the door, she uttered a shriek of distress, which was distinctly
heard by her mother, then in the hands of the enemy among the bushes,
and by her brothers in the meadow. The people, being soon alarmed,
went in pursuit of the enemy; but the Indians, cautiously avoiding all
beaten paths, went off with their captives undiscovered. The mother,
though of a tender constitution, had a firm and vigorous mind, and
passed through the various hardships of an Indian captivity with much
resolution and patience. When her milk failed, she supported her infant
with water warmed in her mouth, till the squaws taught her to beat
the kernel of walnuts and boil it with bruised corn, which proved
a nourishing food for the babe. The prisoners were all sold to the
French in Canada. Hanson redeemed them the following year, one daughter
remaining behind.
These and other outrages of the enemy caused the government of
Massachusetts to resolve on an expedition against the Indian town of
Norridgewock. Two hundred men, under Captains Moulton and Harman,
marched from York in August. They left forty of their men at Teconic
Falls, on the Kennebec, and, dividing the remainder into two bodies,
one of them, under Harman, took a circuitous route, hoping to surprise
some of the enemy in their cornfields, while the other, under Moulton,
marched directly for the village of Norridgewock, which, being
surrounded by trees, could not be seen till they were close upon
it. All the Indians were in their wigwams, and the English advanced
cautiously and in perfect silence. When they had approached very near,
an Indian came out of his wigwam, and, discovering the English, set
up the war-whoop, ran in, and seized his gun. In a few minutes the
warriors were all in arms, and advanced to meet them. Moulton gave
orders not to fire till the Indians had made the first discharge. This
was done, and, as he expected, they overshot the English, who then
immediately fired with great execution. After another volley had been
exchanged, the savages fled with precipitation to the river. They were
pursued and slaughtered in every quarter, and their wigwams set on
fire. Moulton wished to take Rasle alive, and gave strict orders that
no one should kill him. But the Jesuit having shut himself up in his
house, from which he continued to fire upon the English, one of them
burst into it, and shot him through the head. They then set fire to
the church, which was a handsome structure, and brought away the plate
and furniture of the altar, with the devotional banner, as trophies of
their victory. Eighty of the Indians were killed in this attack, and
three English captives rescued.
The fate of Norridgewock struck great terror into the savages, and
they no longer thought themselves safe at any of their former places
of abode, but occupied them as resting-places only, when they were
scouting or hunting. This successful undertaking, and the large premium
offered for scalps, brought several volunteer companies into the field.
In December, Captain Lovewell, with thirty men, made an excursion to
the north of Lake Winnipiseogee. They discovered an Indian wigwam,
in which were a man and a boy. They killed and scalped the man, and
brought the boy alive to Boston, where they received the reward
promised by the government, and a considerable gratuity besides. This
company was soon increased to seventy, and Lovewell marched again,
early in 1725, toward the head of Salmon-Fall River. Their provision
falling short, thirty of them, selected by lot, were dismissed, and
returned home. The remaining forty continued their march till the
20th of February, when they discovered a track, which they followed
till they saw a smoke, just before sunset; from this they judged that
the enemy were encamped for the night. They kept themselves concealed
till after midnight, when they cautiously advanced, and discovered ten
Indians asleep round a fire, by the side of a frozen pond. Lovewell
now determined to make sure work, and, stationing his men conveniently,
ordered five of them to fire in rapid succession, and the remainder
to reserve their shot. He gave the signal by discharging his own gun,
which killed two Indians; and the men, firing according to order,
despatched five more on the spot. The remaining three started up from
their sleep, but two of them were immediately shot dead by the reserve,
and the other was wounded. He attempted to escape across the pond, but
was seized by a dog, who held him fast until the English came up and
despatched him. Thus, in the space of a few minutes, the whole party
was destroyed, and an attempt against the frontiers of New Hampshire
prevented;--for these Indians were marching from Canada, well furnished
with new guns and plenty of ammunition for that object; they had also
a number of spare blankets, moccasins, and snow-shoes, for the use of
the prisoners whom they expected to take. The pond near which these
events transpired is now known as Lovewell’s Pond. The company, with
their ten scalps stretched on hoops, in the Indian fashion, marched to
Boston in great triumph, and received their bounty out of the public
treasury. The English spoke of this enterprise with great exultation,
and pronounced it a capital exploit. In the light of the present day,
the barbarity of giving a premium for scalps would be justly censured.
This brilliant success, as it was then termed, encouraged Lovewell
to his last and fatal undertaking. Early in March, he again took the
field, intending to attack the Indian villages of Piguacket, on the
upper part of the Saco, where a formidable tribe had anciently a
settled habitation, though at this period they only paid occasional
visits there. His company consisted of forty-six men, including a
chaplain and a surgeon. Two of them became lame, and returned. Another
falling sick, they halted, and built a stockade fort on the west side
of Great Ossipee Lake, partly for the accommodation of the sick man,
and partly for a stronghold in case of any reverse. Here the surgeon
was left with the invalid man, and eight of the company for a guard.
Lovewell, with his thirty-four men, advanced to the northward about
twenty-two miles, and encamped on the shore of a pond in the evening of
the 7th of May. Early the next morning, while the men were at prayer,
they heard the report of a gun, and discovered an Indian about a mile
distant, standing on a point of land jutting out into the water. They
had been alarmed during the night by noises round their camp, which
they imagined were made by Indians, and now suspected that the one whom
they saw was placed there to decoy them, and that a body of the enemy
was in their front. A council of war was held, and they decided to go
forward, and, by marching round the pond, to gain the spot where the
Indian stood. That they might be ready for action, they disencumbered
themselves of their packs, and left them, without any guard, in a pine
plain, where the trees were too thinly set to hide them.
Lovewell, on his march, had crossed a carrying-place, by which two
parties of Indians, consisting of forty-one warriors, commanded by
the noted chiefs Paugus and Wahwa, who had been on a scout down the
Saco, were returning to the lower village of Piguacket, about a mile
and a half from the pond. Having fallen on Lovewell’s track, they
followed it, and came at last to the baggage, which they carried off.
On counting the packs, they found the number of the English to be
less than that of their own force. They therefore placed themselves
in ambush to attack them on their return. The Indian who had stood
on the point, and was returning to the village by another path, met
the English and received their fire, which he returned, and wounded
Lovewell and another person with small shot. By a second fire the
Indian was killed, and they took his scalp. Seeing no other enemy, the
company returned toward their packs, and, while they were searching for
them, the Indians sprang from their ambush and ran towards them with
a horrid yell. A smart firing commenced on both sides, and Lovewell
was speedily slain, with eight others. Several of the Indians fell,
but, being superior in numbers, they were by no means daunted, and
endeavoured to surround the English, who, perceiving their design,
retreated, hoping to gain a shelter behind a point of rocks and some
large pine-trees on the shore of the pond. Here they took their
station, having on their right the mouth of a brook, and on their left
the rocky point,--their front being partly covered by a deep bog, with
the pond in their rear.
The battle now recommenced. The Indians poured in their fire from
front and flank, and had so much the advantage of position, that, by a
little skill, they might have shot down every man of the English, or
compelled them to surrender at discretion, as they were totally unable
to extricate themselves, and were entirely destitute of provisions.
Under the conduct of Lieutenant Wyman, the latter kept up their fire,
and maintained a resolute countenance the remainder of the day,--the
action having begun a little after ten in the morning. The chaplain
and three others were mortally wounded. The Indians invited them to
surrender by holding up ropes to them, and endeavoured to intimidate
them by hideous yells; but they determined to die rather than yield,
and, by their well directed fire, the number of the savages was
reduced, and their cries became fainter, till, just before night,
they quitted their advantageous ground, carrying off their killed and
wounded, and leaving the dead bodies of Lovewell and his men unscalped.
The shattered remnants of this brave company, on coming together, found
three of their number unable to move from the spot, eleven wounded,
but able to march, and nine unhurt. It was melancholy to leave their
dying companions behind, but there was no possibility of removing them.
One of these, Ensign Robbins, desired them to lay his gun beside him
loaded, that, if the Indians should return before his death, he might
be able to kill one more.
After the rising of the moon, those who were able quitted the fatal
spot, and directed their march toward the fort where the surgeon and
guard had been left. To their great surprise, they found it abandoned.
In the beginning of the action, one man had deserted and fled to the
fort, where, in the style of Job’s messengers, he informed them of
Lovewell’s death and the defeat of the whole company, upon which they
made the best of their way home, leaving a quantity of provisions,
which proved a seasonable relief to the retreating survivors. From
this place they endeavoured to get home. Lieutenant Farwell, and the
chaplain, who had the journal of the march in his pocket, and one
other, perished in the woods, for want of a dressing for their wounds.
The others, after enduring the most severe hardships, reached the
settlements, one after another. There were no white residents within
fifty miles of the scene of the battle.
A party from the New Hampshire frontier was ordered out to bury the
dead. Fourteen bodies were found, which were interred, and their names
carved on the trees. Three Indian graves were discovered and opened;
one of them contained the body of the warrior-chief, Paugus. Tracks of
blood were traced to a great distance from the scene of action, but the
exact loss of the enemy never was known. After this battle, the Indians
abandoned the neighbourhood of Piguacket, and did not return till the
war was over.
A doggerel ballad, on the subject of “Lovewell’s Fight,” made its
appearance the same year that these events happened, and was for a
long time very popular in New England. As the reader may wish to see a
specimen of it, we quote the opening stanza, which is as follows.
“Of worthy Captain Lovewell I purpose now to sing,
How valiantly he served his country and his king.
He and his valiant soldiers did range the woods full wide,
And hardships they endured to quell the Indian’s pride.”
We add the sixteenth stanza, as it notices a striking circumstance.
“Our worthy Captain Lovewell among them there did die.
They killed Lieutenant Robbins, and wounded good young Frye,
Who was our English chaplain; he many Indians slew,
And some of them he scalped, when bullets round him flew.”
The following winter, four chiefs came to Boston to ratify the treaty
which followed these hostilities. The government of the colonies
prohibited all private traffic with the Indians, as it had been the
cause of many troubles. Truck-houses were established in convenient
places, at which they were supplied with all the necessaries of life
on advantageous terms. Though the government was a loser by the trade,
this was deemed the most economical method of preserving peace, and it
seems fully to have accomplished its purpose.
The natives throughout the New England provinces, now thinned and
weakened, while the English had gained strength and extended their
settlements in every direction, made no more serious attempts upon the
peace of the country. In the French wars, even down to the period just
preceding the Revolution, it is true that incursions were occasionally
made, but they produced no lasting results.
There are few Indians now remaining in the New England States. A
small number of Mohegans still reside in the vicinity of Norwich,
Connecticut, where they have a neat little church, and a missionary has
labored among them with some success. A few Penobscot Indians, too, are
found in Maine, and here and there, in other places, may be met one or
more of the descendants of the aborigines; but they are like the last
scattered leaves of autumn,--withered, decaying, and frozen by the
wintry blasts; spring finds them not again.
FOOTNOTE:
[8] For the life of Philip and an account of the war, see “Lives of
Famous Indians.”
THE FIVE NATIONS, &c.
This noted confederacy consisted of the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas,
Cayugas, and Senecas. The name given them, by the French writers, is
the Iroquois. Each nation was divided into three tribes or families,
distinguished by their ensigns, as the Tortoise, the Bear, and the
Wolf. Their original seat was the island of Montreal and its vicinity.
Many years before the French discovered Canada, they employed
themselves in the peaceful pursuits of agriculture. The Adirondacks,
who then dwelt about 300 miles from Trois Rivières, where the Ottawas
afterwards lived, pursued hunting, and exchanged their venison for the
corn raised by the Five Nations.