“These shiftless Indians,” says Mather, “their housing is nothing but a few mats tied about poles fastened into the earth, where a good fire is their bed-clothes in the coldest season: their diet has not a greater dainty; a handful of meal and a spoonful of water being their food for many days; for they depend on the produce of their hunting and fishing, and badly cultivated grounds: thus they are subject to long fastings. They have a cure for some diseases, even a little cave: after they have terribly heated it, a crew of them go and sit there with the priest, looking in the heat and smoke like so many fiends, and then they rush forth on a sudden, and plunge into the water: how they escape death, instead of getting cured, is marvellous; they are so slothful, that their poor wives must plant, and build, and beat their corn. All the religion they have is a belief in many gods, who made the different nations of the world, but chiefly in one great one of the name of Kicktan, who dwelt in the south-west regions of the heavens, who created the original parents of mankind, who, though never seen by the eye of man, was entitled to their gratitude, that we have in us immortal souls, which, if good, should go to a splendid entertainment with Kicktan; but, otherwise, must wander about in a restless horror for ever.”
THE VALIANT OLD MOHAWK.
(1696.) On one occasion, when Count Frontignac succeeded in capturing a Mohawk fort, it was found deserted of all its inhabitants except a sachem in extreme old age, who sat with the composure of an ancient Roman in his capitol, and saluted his civilized compeer in age and infirmity, with dignified courtesy and venerable address. Every hand was instantly raised to wound and deface his time-stricken frame and while French and Indian knives were plunged into his body, he recommended to his Indian enemies rather to burn him with fire, that he might teach their French allies how to suffer like men. “Never, perhaps,” says Charlevoix, “was a man treated with more cruelty; nor ever did any endure it with superior magnanimity and resolution.”
OPECHANCANOUGH’S LAST WAR.
Opechancanough was by no means backward in taking advantage of the repose afforded by the treaty of 1632. For the long period which elapsed between its conclusion and his final effort, in 1644, he was industriously occupied in making preparations for a renewal of hostilities. An opportunity at length presented itself for executing his long-cherished purpose. The colony was involved in intestine dissensions. An insurrection had taken place in consequence of the unpopularity of the governor, and at a moment when the people were occupied with internal disorders and heedless of danger from without, their great enemy struck a powerful and almost fatal blow.
He was now advanced to extreme old age, being supposed to have numbered nearly a hundred years, but the powers of his mind were still so vigorous, that he was the leading spirit of a confederacy embracing all the Indian tribes distributed over a space of country six hundred miles in extent. Unable to walk, he was borne in a litter to the scene of action (April 18th, 1644,) and thus led his warriors to the attack. Such was the skill with which his measures had been concerted that the whole force of the Indians commenced their operations upon the entire line of the frontier at the same instant of time, with the intention of carrying a war of extermination down to the sea, and thus annihilating the colony at a single blow. In two days, five hundred persons had fallen in the massacre. Of course, every operation of industry was instantly abandoned, and all who were able to bear arms were embodied to oppose so terrible an invasion. Governor Berkeley, at the head of a chosen force, consisting of every twentieth man in the colony, marched into the enemy’s country, and thus gave him the first check. Of the details of the campaign, in consequence of the confusion and distress prevailing at the time, no details are furnished by the contemporary historians. Beverly’s account, the only one which survived the ravages of the time, is meagre and unsatisfactory. One result of the war, however, is sufficiently well attested, since it terminated the horrors of the season. This was the capture of the aged Opechancanough, who was surprised and taken prisoner by a squadron of horse under the command of Governor Berkeley, who forthwith conducted him in triumph to James-Town.
It was the governor’s intention to have sent this remarkable person to England; but he was shot after being taken prisoner, by a soldier, in resentment of the calamities he had inflicted on the province. He lingered under the wound for several days, and died with the pride and firmness of an old Roman. Indignant at the crowds who came to gaze at him on his deathbed, he exclaimed; “If I had taken Sir William Berkeley prisoner, I would not have exposed him as a show to the people.” Perhaps he remembered that he had saved the life of Captain Smith, and forgot the numberless instances in which he had exposed other prisoners to public derision and lingering torture.
After the decease of their great enemy, the colonists had no difficulty in concluding a treaty with the Indians, which gave tranquillity to the province for a long term of years.
