In the year 1674, the number of Eliot’s towns and settlements, in
which industry, comfort, good order, and the best instruction, were
established, amounted to more than twelve, when an unforeseen event
happened, that threw a cloud over all his prospects. This was the war
in which the colonists of New England were involved with Philip, son of
Massasoit, the celebrated chief, and, for the last years of his life,
the firm friend of the English. “O, thou sword of the wilderness, when
wilt thou be quiet?” says Mather, forgetful that it was bared by the
aggressions of the settlers, as well as by the fierce and restless
spirit of the Indian prince. Ever since the foundation of the colonies,
the former had conducted themselves, says more than one divine of the
period, with great kindness to their heathen brethren. The truth of
this assertion is very doubtful. The missionary took no part in the
disputes, save to urge his countrymen to forbearance and peace. “We,
the poor church of Naticke,” he writes to them, “hearing that the
honoured rulers of Plymouth are pressing and arming of soldiers to go
to war with the Indians, do mourn greatly on account of it, and desire
that they may not be destroyed, because we have not heard that they
have done any thing worthy of death. It is your duty to offer, accept,
and desire peace, and we pray you, for God’s sake, and for your souls’
sake, obey this word; we long to hear of a happy peace, that may open
a clear passage for the gospel among that people.” Simple as these
words are, they unfold an affection, on the part of the missionary
and his converts, for those who had few claims on their regard; for
Philip, and most of his chiefs, had sternly rejected all persuasions to
Christianity. But Eliot was not of the sentiment of another divine, who
rejoiced in the rejection of the proposals by the Indians, that “this
thing was of the Lord.” He saw only on one side an exquisite jealousy,
roused by many wrongs, a heart burning with vindictive feelings; on the
other, a sordid ambition, an unhallowed love of glory. It was a source
of sorrow, that the torch of discord was first kindled by one of his
own people. In the end of the year 1674, John Seusoman, a converted
Indian, after having apostatized from the faith, devoted himself to
the service of Philip, as secretary. He informed the English that his
countrymen had resolved to adopt measures for their destruction. “He
could write,” says the historian, “though the king, his master, could
not read.”
This renegade, fearing the consequences of what he had done, returned
to the protection of the settlers, and was soon after slain by two
of the Indian captains. The English arrested the perpetrators of
the deed, and, on a trial by jury, finding them guilty, they were
executed. Philip was alarmed at the condemnation of his counsellors,
and, conscious that he had given cause for suspicion, resolved to be
the first in the field. He had probably long waited for an opportunity.
Rash, headstrong, and vindictive, with the courage but not the talents
of his father, Massasoit, the slow and artful aggressions of the
settlers stung him to the quick. He began to gather his warriors around
his dwelling-place, at the strong forts near the Naraganset river; he
received the accession of several other tribes. In the mean time, it
was said, strange sights and sounds foreboded, in many parts of the
colonies, the woes that were near; the singing of bullets, and the
awful passing away of drums in the air; invisible troops of horses were
heard riding to and fro; and in a clear, still, sunshiny morning, the
phantoms of men, fearfully flitting by! Philip, heedless of omens and
dreams, sent away the women and children, and took his stand on Mount
Hope, a low and beautiful eminence, on which was his strongest fort.
Ere matters came to a fatal extremity, and all the evils of war were
let loose on his settlements, Eliot did his utmost to turn them aside;
he saw that many of his people would inevitably be involved with one
party or the other. His town of Pakeunit was very near Mount Hope; he
had visited the latter during the life of Massasoit, and though he felt
not the same regard or esteem for his son, a friendly intercourse had
subsisted between them. His applications to the colonists for peace
being fruitless, he resolved to try them also on the former.
[Illustration]