The question of taxation was an early cause of difficulty. The poorer towns felt themselves aggrieved, and often put insuperable obstacles in the way of the collector. Even the tax for the payment of John Clarke was disputed, and Roger Williams drew upon himself a severe condemnation from Warwick by a letter wherein he urged its payment. At last, in 1672, the Assembly took the matter seriously in hand and passed a bill declaring, “that whoever opposed by word or deed, in town meeting or elsewhere, any rate laid, or any other of the acts or orders of the General Assembly should be bound over to the Court of Trials, or imprisoned till it meet, at the discretion of the justice, for high contempt and sedition; and if found guilty, should be fined, imprisoned or whipped, as the court might adjudge.”
It was not altogether without reason that this stringent act was passed, for the aggressions of Connecticut and the alarm of an Indian war made it necessary to strengthen as far as possible the hands of government. But there was a danger in this legislative omnipotence which the people quickly perceived, and the new Assembly of May undid by a comprehensive repeal the work of its predecessor of April.
CHAPTER X.
KING PHILIP’S WAR.
I have now reached the story of the longest and bloodiest war which the colonists had yet waged with the Indian. It is known in colonial history as King Philip’s war, and belongs more to the histories of Massachusetts and Connecticut than to that of Rhode Island, although two of its bloodiest battles were fought on Rhode Island soil. Like all wars with barbarians it is filled with strange mixtures of barbarism and heroism, the savage warrior often rising in the pursuit of his ideal to a moral grandeur which his civilized antagonist failed to attain. And although like the war with the Pequots it was fatal to those who began it, it has left one of great names of Indian history, and brought into play some of the greatest traits of Indian character.
First and most faithful of the allies of the English was Massasoit, Sachem of the Wamponoags. A pestilence too malignant to be controlled by the medical science of the natives had decimated his tribe and exposed him to the ambition of the Narragansetts, his immediate neighbors, a little before the arrival of the Pilgrims. Perceiving only the present danger, he looked upon the advent of the white man as a means of preserving his independence, and eagerly made a covenant with him which he faithfully kept to the end of his life, (1661). At his death his eldest son, Wamsutta, or Alexander as he was called by the English, succeeded to his authority, but not to the confidence of his allies. Suspicion arose; he was accused of plotting against the colonists, and though an independent chief, summoned to appear at the General Court at Plymouth. Disobeying the summons, he was threatened with personal violence, and reluctantly yielding set forth with his warriors and women, some eighty in all, under the escort of a small body of troops commanded by Major Winslow. The indignity was too great for the unfortunate chief. Winslow saw that he was sinking under fatigue—for the weather was very hot—and wounded pride, for wrong was hard to bear. “Take my horse,” he said, touched with compassion. “No!” replied the chief with a last touch of pride, “there are no horses for my wife and the other women.” When they reached Winslow’s house, which was on the way he sickened, and though allowed to turn back, quickly died. Deep was the indignation of the Indians at this treatment of their sachem, and even some of the colonists felt that they had gone too far.
But there was one among them into whose breast the wrong sank deepest, for it called him to avenge not only a chief but a brother. That brother was known in colonial history as Philip of Pocanoket. The story of Philip has been variously told, some looking upon him as a crafty savage loving the wiles and cruelty of Indian warfare and fighting with no other object than immediate success; others as an Indian patriot contending for the independence of his country. In either case, if we judge him by the standard of his own people, he was a great ruler in peace and a valiant leader in war.
We are told that it was a sore grief to the young sachem to see the white man daily taking a firmer hold of the soil, and the red man melting before him. But how could the march of the invader be stayed? The arrow was a feeble weapon with which to oppose the firelock, the tomahawk even in the strongest hand was no match for the sabre. The foresight, judgment, method and power of combination of the white man enabled him to provide for the future while making wise provision for the present. While he was well supplied with food, the Indian was starving. While he was warmly clad, the Indian was exposed almost naked to the rudest blasts of winter. Philip saw the danger and resolved to face it.