During the early settlements of New England, the inhabitants suffered much from the incursions of the Indians. The most celebrated war, perhaps, which ever took place with the natives, however, was King Philip’s war. During its continuance, the town of Brookfield, Massachusetts, was attacked. The inhabitants collected in one house which was immediately besieged by the savages, who set fire instantly to every other building in the town. For two days and nights the Indians shot upon the people in the house incessantly, but were met with a most determined defence on the part of the besieged. They then attempted to fire the house by flaming torches at the ends of long poles; but the garrison continued to defend themselves by firing from the windows, and throwing water upon the flames, as they fortunately had a pump within the house. These attempts failing, the Indians then prepared a cart loaded with flax, hemp, and other combustible matters, and under cover of a barricade of boards, thrust the burning mass, by means of long timbers, against the house. In this movement one of the wheels came off, which turned the machine aside, and exposed the Indians to the fire of the garrison; a shower of rain coming on at the same time extinguished the flames. Shortly afterwards a reinforcement of forty men arrived from Boston, forced their way through the enemy, and joined the garrison. The Indians then abandoned the siege and retired, having suffered a heavy loss.
THE HEROIC COLLAPISSA.
In the heart of the savage, there are some noble and redeeming qualities; he can be faithful, even unto death, to the friend or the stranger who has dwelt beneath his roof, or sat under the shadow of the same tree. He can be generous also; can endure all tortures, rather than show weakness or fear.
“An instance of this occurred,” says Bossu, “when the French were in possession of New Orleans: a Chactaw, speaking very ill of them, said the Collapissas were their slaves; one of the latter, vexed at such words, killed him with his gun. The nation of Chactaws, the greatest and most numerous on the continent, armed immediately, and sent deputies to New Orleans to ask for the head of the murderer, who had put himself under the protection of the French. They offered presents to make up the quarrel, but the cruel people would not accept any! they even threatened to destroy the village of the Collapissas. To prevent the effusion of blood, the unhappy Indian was delivered up to them: the Sieur Ferrand was charged with the commission. The Indian was called Tichou; he stood upright in the midst of his own people and of his enemies, and said, “I am a true man, that is, I do not fear death; but I pity the fate of a wife and four children, whom I leave behind me very young; and of my father and mother, who are old, and for whom I got subsistence by hunting.” (He was the best hunter in the nation.)
He had hardly spoken the last word of this short speech, when his father, penetrated with his son’s love, rose amidst the people, and spoke as follows:—
“It is through courage that my son dies; but, being young and full of vigour, he is more fit than myself to provide for his mother, wife, and four little children: it is therefore necessary he should stay on earth to take care of them. As to myself, I am near the end of my career; I am no longer fit for anything: I cannot go like the roebuck, whose course is like the winds, unseen; I cannot sleep like the hare, with my ears never shut; but I have lived as a man, and will die as such, therefore I go to take his place.”
At these words, his wife, his son, his daughter-in-law, and their little children, shed tears round the brave old man: he embraced them for the last time. The relations of the dead Chactaw accepted the offer; after that, he laid himself on the trunk of a tree, and his head was cut off with one stroke of a hatchet. Every thing was made up by this death; but the young man was obliged to give them his father’s head: in taking it up, he said to it, “Pardon me thy death, and remember me in the country of spirits.”
All the French who assisted at this event were moved even to tears, and admired this noble old man. A people among whom such things could be done, hardly deserved the sweeping censures of Mather and other good men, who painted them rather as fiends in human shape. Courage is, of course, the virtue held in most honour: those who run away or desert in an action are not punished, they are considered as the disgrace of human nature: the ugliest girls will not accept of them for husbands: they are obliged to let their hair grow, and to wear an alcoman, or apron, like the women. “I saw one of them,” says Bossu, who dwelt a long time among the Indians, “who, being ashamed of his figure, went by himself to fight the Chicachas, for his misery was more than he could bear: for three or four days he went on creeping like a snake, and hiding himself in the great grass, without eating or drinking; so he came to their country, and watched a long time to do some exploit; often lying down in the rushes, when his enemies came near, and putting out his head above the water from time to time, to take breath. At last he drew near a village in the night, cried the cry of death, killed one of the people, and then fled with the speed of an arrow. He was out three months upon this expedition: when he drew nigh to his own village, weary, and bearing the head of his enemy, they came down the hill to meet him. The women were loud in his praises—the warriors gathered round him; and then they gave him a wife.”
JOHN ELIOT’S FIRST MISSION TO THE INDIANS.
On the 28th of October, 1646, Eliot set out from his home, in Roxbury, Massachusetts, in company with three friends, to the nearest Indian settlement: he had previously sent to give this tribe notice of his coming, and a very large number was collected from all quarters. If the savages expected the coming of their guest, of whose name they had often heard, to be like that of a warrior or sachem, they were greatly deceived. They saw Eliot on foot, drawing near, with his companions; his translation of the scriptures, like a calumet of peace and love, in his hand. He was met by their chief, Waubon, who conducted him to a large wigwam. After a short rest, Eliot went into the open air and standing on a grassy mound, while the people formed around him in all the stillness of strong surprise and curiosity, he prayed in the English tongue, as if he could not address heaven in a language both strange and new. And then he preached for an hour in their own tongue, and gave a clear and simple account of the religion of Christ, of his character and life, of the blessed state of those who believed in him.