Preparations for war between Philip and the Colonies—Great excitement of the times—Deposition of Hugh Cole—Immediate occasion of hostilities—Commencement of them, June 24th, 1675—Summary sketch of the war—Consequences to the parties engaged—Exertions, adventures and escapes of King Philip—His death—Anecdotes respecting him—Observations on his character—His courage, dignity, kindness, independence, shrewdness, and self-command—Fate of his family—Defence of his conduct.

Whatever had previously been the disposition or determination of Philip, it is universally agreed, that subsequent to the transaction mentioned at the close of the last chapter, he took but little pains either to conceal his own hostility or to check that of his subjects. It would be incredible that he should. He well remembered what had happened to his brother in much more peaceable times; and, as several historians intimate, he must actually have apprehended "the danger his own head was in next." A passage in one of his letters heretofore cited, is to the same purpose—"as also suggestions of great danger in case they [his subjects] there [at Plymouth] appear; with harsh threats to the sachem, that may be Considered."

Every preparation was now made for the impending crisis on either side. The following ancient document, taken from the records of Plymouth, shows that the agitation of all the parties concerned had already arrived to a high pitch. It is the deposition of one Hugh Cole, taken in court previous to Sassamon's death, and attested by Nathaniel Morton as secretary. [FN]

[FN] Vide 6th. Vol. Mss. His. Coll. 1st Series

"Hugh Cole, aged forty-three, or there abouts, being deposed, saith;—That in February last past before the date hereof he went to Shewamett, and two Englishmen more with him: and that their business was to persuade the Indians to go to Plymouth, to answer a complaint made by Hezekiah Luther. The Indians (saith he) seeing us, came out of the house towards us, being many of them, at the least twenty or thirty, with staves in their hand; and when the Indians saw there were but three of us, they laid down their staves again. Then we ask the Indians what they did with those staves in their hands? They answered, that they looked for Englishmen to come from Plymouth, to seek Indians, to carry them to Plymouth. But they said they were not willing to go. And some time after, in the same morning, Philip, the chief sachem, sent for me to come to him; and I went to Mount Hope to him; and when I came to Mount Hope, I saw most of the Indians that I knew of Shewamett Indians, there at Mount Hope, and they were generally employed in making of bows and arrows, and half pikes, and fixing up of guns. And I saw many Indians of several places repair towards Mount Hope. And some days after I came from Mount Hope, I, with several others, saw one of Captain Willett's rangers, coming on post on horseback, who told us, that king Philip was marched up the neck with about three score men; and Zacary Eddy, on his report, went to see if he could find them; and he found them towards the upper part of the neck, in several companies. One Caleb Eddy further saith, that he saw many there in arms; and I was informed by John Padduck, that he saw two several guns, loaded with bullets or slugs. And I further testify, that those Indians that I saw come towards Mount Hope, as aforesaid, came better armed than I usually have seen them. Further saith not."

The Pokanokets mustered at Mount Hope, early in the spring of 1675, from all quarters, and the whole country was in agitation. The ungovernable fury of some of these fierce warriors was the immediate occasion of the war which ensued. They had not the power which Philip himself had, of enduring provocation with the reservation of revenge; and they were by no means so well aware, on the other hand, of the advantages to be gained by such a course. At length, a party of them expressed their feelings so intolerably—soon after the execution of their three countrymen—that an Englishman at Swanzey discharged his musket at one of them, and wounded him. This affair took place June 24, 1675, a day memorable in American history as the commencement of Philip's War. "Now," says a reverend historian of those times, "war was begun by a fierce nation of Indians upon an honest, harmless Christian generation of English, who might very truly have said unto the aggressors, as it was said of old unto the Ammonites, 'I have not sinned against thee, but thou doest me wrong to war against me.'" Such no doubt was the persuasion of a large majority of the contemporary countrymen of the learned divine.

Hostilities were now promptly undertaken. A letter was sent to Philip, in the month of June, which, of course, did no good; applications were also made to the Massachusetts Government for immediate assistance; forces were raised and stationed throughout the Colony; and matters very soon after proceeded to a length which made compromise or conciliation impossible. We do not intend to give for the present the well-known particulars of this celebrated war. It is sufficient to observe, that it was carried on for more than a year with a violence, and amid an excitement unparalleled, perhaps, in the history of the country; and that it terminated with the death of Philip, late in the season of 1676.

The result of it was decisive, as the sachem was well aware that it would be, of the fate of the New England Indians. The Pokanokets were nearly exterminated. The Narraghansetts lost about one thousand of their number in the celebrated swamp-fight at Sunke-Squaw. All the Indians on the Connecticut river, and most of the Nipmucks who survived, fled to Canada, (where they were subsequently of great service to the French!) and a few hundreds took refuge in New York. The English detachment of Captain Church alone, are estimated to have killed about seven hundred between June and October of 1676. Large numbers of those who were captured were sent out of the country, and sold as slaves.

But the triumph of the conqueror was dearly bought. The whole fighting force of the four Colonies seems to have been almost constantly in requisition. Between one and two thousand men were engaged at the swamp-fight alone,—an immense force for a population of scarcely forty thousand English throughout New England. Thirteen towns were entirely destroyed by the enemy; six hundred dwelling-houses burned; and about the same number of Englishmen killed, so that almost every family lost a relative. The mere expense of the war must have been very great; for the Commissioners of the United Colonies afterwards estimated the disbursements of the Old Colony alone, at more than one hundred thousand pounds.

Such was the war of King Philip—sustained and managed, upon his side, by his own single-handed energy and talent alone. Not that the sixty Wampanoags of the sachem's own house-hold, as it were, or even the various tribes of the Pokanoket country, were his sole supporters; but that all the other tribes, which supported him, did it in consequence of his influence, and were induced to unite and operate together, as they never had done before, under his control. Some writers have asserted, that he engaged the various Atlantic tribes as far south as Virginia to assist him; but of this there is no proof, and it is rendered improbable by the great want of inter-communication among these tribes.

Nor is it true, as other writers have stated, that all the natives of New England itself were involved with Philip. On the other hand, it was the most trying circumstance of the great struggle of the sachem, that he had not only to rely upon bringing and keeping together scores of petty cantons, as jealous of each other from time immemorial as so many Highland clans; but he had to watch and resist, openly and secretly, all who would not join him, besides the multitudes who deserted, betrayed and opposed him. The New Hampshire tribes mostly withdrew from the contest. The praying Indians, of whom there were then thousands, either remained neutral, or like Sassamon turned against their own race. One of Philip's own tribes forsook him in his misfortunes; and the Pequots and Mohegans of Connecticut kept the field against him from the very first day of the war to the last. It may be supposed, that some of these tribes were surprised, as Philip himself was, by the sudden breaking out of the war, a year before the time which had been fixed for it. This was occasioned by the proceedings in which Sassamon was concerned, and by the ungovernable fury of a few of the young warriors.

Philip is said to have wept at these tidings of the first outrage of the war. He relented, perhaps, savage as he was, at the idea of disturbing the long amity which his father had preserved; but he may well have regretted, certainly, that being once forced upon the measure, he should enter the battle-field unprepared for what he well knew must be the last, as it was the first, great contest between the red men and the whites. But the die was cast, and though Philip never smiled after that memorable hour alluded to, his whole soul was bent upon the business before him. Day nor night, scarcely was there rest for his limbs or sleep for his eyes. His resources must have been feeble enough, had his plans, now embarrassed, succeeded to his utmost wish; but he girded himself, as it was, with a proud heart for the mortal struggle. The strength of his own dominions was about six hundred warriors, ready, and more than ready, long since, for the war-cry. The whole force of his old enemies, the Narragansetts, was already engaged to him. He had negotiated, also, with the Nipmucks and the tribes on the Connecticut and farther west, and one after another, these were soon induced to join him. Nor was it six weeks from the first hostilities, before all the Indians along the coast of Maine, for a distance of two hundred miles, were eagerly engaged, in what Philip told them was the common cause of the race.

That no arts might be left untried, even while the court were condemning his three subjects, he was holding a grand war-dance at Sowams, and mustering his tawny warriors around him from all quarters. Several tribes afterwards confessed to the English, that Philip had thus inveigled them into the war. And again, no sooner were his forces driven back upon the Connecticut river tribes, about the first of September, 1675, than he enlisted new allies among them. The Hadley Indians, who had joined the English,—very likely at his instigation,—were suspected, and fled to him. Their Springfield neighbors, soon after, joined three hundred of Philip's men, in an attack upon that town; and thus the whole Nipmuck country was involved. In the course of the ensuing winter, the sachem is said to have visited the Mohawks in New York. Not succeeding in gaining their alliance by fair argument, he was desperate enough to kill some of their straggling young men in the woods, in such a manner that the blame would obviously be charged upon the English. But this stratagem was defeated, by the escape of one who had only been stunned by the sachem. The latter was obliged to take abrupt leave of his hosts; and from that time, they were among his worst enemies.

His situation during the last few months of the war, was so deplorable, and yet his exertions so well sustained, that we can only look upon him with pity and admiration. His successes for some time past had been tremendous; but the tide began to ebb. The whole power of the Colonies was in the field, aided by guides and scouting-parties of his own race. The Saconets, the subjects of a near relation of his own, enlisted under Church. Other tribes complained and threatened. Their territory, as well as his, had been over-run, their settlements destroyed, and their planting and fishing-grounds all occupied by the English. Those of them who were not yet hunted down, were day and night followed into swamps and forests, and reduced to live,—if they did not actually starve or freeze,—upon the least and worst food to be conceived of. Hundreds died of diseases incurred in this manner. "I have eaten horse," said one of these miserable wretches, "but now horse is eating me." Another informed Church, on one occasion, that about three hundred Indians had gone a long way to Swanzey, in the heat of the war, for the purpose of eating clams, and that Philip was soon to follow them. At another time, the valiant captain himself captured a large party. Finding it convenient to attack a second directly after, he bade the first wait for him, and join him at a certain rendezvous. The day after the skirmish, "they came to him as they were ordered," and he drove them all together, that very night, into Bridgewater pound, and set his Saconet soldiers to guard them. "Being well treated with victuals and drink," he adds, with great simplicity, "they had a merry night, and the prisoners laughed as loud as the soldiers; not being so treated for a long time before."

The mere physical sufferings of Philip, meanwhile, are almost incredible. It is by his hair-breadth escapes, indeed, that he is chiefly visible during the war. Occasionally, the English come close upon him; he starts up, like the roused lion, plunges into the river or leaps the precipice; and nothing more is seen of him for months. Only a few weeks after the war commenced, he was surrounded in the great Pocasset swamp, and obliged to escape from his vigilant enemies by rafting himself, with his best men, over the great Taunton river, while their women and children were left to be captured. On his return to the same neighborhood, the next season, a captive guided the English to his encampment. Philip fled in such haste as to leave his kettle upon the fire; twenty of his comrades were overtaken and killed; and he himself escaped to the swamp, precisely as he had formerly escaped from it. Here his uncle was shot soon afterwards at his side. Upon the next day, Church, discovering an Indian seated on a fallen tree, made to answer the purpose of a bridge over the river, raised his musket and deliberately aimed at him. "It is one of our own party," whispered a savage, who crept behind him. Church lowered his gun, and the stranger turned his head. It was Philip himself, musing, perhaps, upon the fate which awaited him. Church fired, but his royal enemy had already fled down the bank. He escaped from a close and bloody skirmish a few hours afterwards.

He was now a desolate and desperate man, the last prince of an ancient race, without subjects, without territory, accused by his allies, betrayed by his comrades, hunted like a spent deer by blood-hounds, in daily hazard of famishing, and with no shelter day or night for his head. All his chief counsellors and best friends had been killed. His brother was slain in the Pocasset swamp; his uncle was shot down at his own side; and his wife and only son were captured when he himself so narrowly escaped from the fire of Church. And could he have fled for the last time from the soil of his own country, he would still have found no rest or refuge. He had betaken himself once to a place between York and Albany; but even here, as Church says, the Moohags made a descent upon him and killed many of his men. His next kennelling-place [FN] was at the fall of Connecticut river, above Deerfield, where, some time after, "Captain Turner found him, came upon him by night, killed a great many men, and frightened many more into the river, that were hunted down the falls and drowned." He lost three hundred men at this time. They were in their encampments, asleep and unguarded. The English rushed upon them, and they fled in every direction, half-awakened, and crying out, "Mohawks! Mohawks!"

[FN] The language of Church. The same name might be as properly applied, we suppose, to a curious cave in the vicinity of Winnecunnett pond, in Norton (Mass.) In the midst of a cluster of large rocks, it is formed by the projection of one over another which meets it with an acute angle. It is five feet high, and the area at the base is seventeen feet by nine. Tradition represents it as one of the Sachem's secret retreats, and it bears the name of "Philip's-Cave" to this day.

We cannot better illustrate Philip's character, than by observing, that within a few days of this affair, he was collecting the remnants of the Narraghansetts and Nipmucks among the Wachuset hills, on the east side of the river; that they then made a descent upon Sudbury; "met with and swallowed up the valiant Captain Wadsworth and his company; [FN-1] and many other doleful desolations in those parts." We also find, that Philip was setting parties to waylay Church, under his own worst circumstances; and that he came very near succeeding. He is thought to have been at the great swamp-fight in December, 1675; and to have led one thousand Indians against Lancaster on the ensuing 8th of February. In August of the former season, he made his appearance among the Nipmucks, in a swamp ten or twelve miles from Brookfield. "They told him at his first coming," said one of them who was taken captive, "what they had done to the English at Brookfield [burning the town.] Then he presented and gave to three sagamores, namely, John alias Apequinast, Quanansit, and Mawtamps, to each of them about a peck of unstrung wampum." [FN-2] Even so late as the month before the sachem's death, a Negro, who had fought under him, informed the English of his design of attacking certain towns, being still able to muster something like a thousand men. In his last and worst days, he would not think of peace; and he killed with his own hand, upon the spot, the only Indian who ever dared to propose it. It was the brother of this man by whom he was himself soon after slain.

[FN-1] This strong expression of the Captain's may refer to the really savage treatment which the unfortunate prisoners met with in this case. We have it on the authority of Mather, at least, that those "devils incarnate" inflicted a variety of tortures not necessary to be enlarged upon here; "and so with exquisite, leisurely, horrible torments, roasted them out of the world." History of New England, Book VII. p. 55, London Ed. 1702.

[FN-2] Note to Hutchinson's History of Massachusetts. Mather says, that these very Indians had covenanted by a formal treaty, a month before, that they would not assist Philip.

These are clear proofs, then, that Philip possessed a courage as noble as his intellect. Nor is there any doubt that history would have furnished a long list of his personal exploits, but that his situation compelled him to disguise as well as conceal himself. If any thing but his face had been known, there was nothing to prevent Church from shooting him, as we have seen. And universally influential as he was,—the master-spirit every where guiding, encouraging, soothing and rewarding,—it is a fact worthy of mention, that from the time of his first flight from Pocasset until a few weeks before his death, no Englishman could say, that he had either seen his countenance or heard his voice. Hence Church describes him as being always foremost in the flight. The price put upon his head, the fearful power which pursued him, the circumstance that some of his own acquaintance were against him, and especially the vital importance of his life to his cause, all made it indispensable for him to adopt every stratagem of the wary and cunning warfare of his race.

We have said something of Philip's ideas of his own sovereign dignity. Hence the fate of Sassamon, and of the savage who proposed peace. There is a well settled tradition, that in 1665 he went over to the island of Nantucket, with the view of killing an Indian called John Gibbs. [FN] He landed on the west end, intending to travel along the shore, undiscovered, under the bank, to that part of the island where Gibbs resided. By some lucky accident, the latter received a hint of his approach, made his escape to the English settlement, and induced one Mr. Macy to conceal him. His crime consisted in speaking the name of some deceased relative of Philip (his brother, perhaps,) contrary to Indian etiquette in such cases provided. The English held a parley with the sachem, and all the money they were able to collect was barely sufficient to satisfy him for the life of the culprit. It was not a mere personal insult, but a violation of the reverence due from a subject to his king.

[FN] The fact, as to the visit itself, is authenticated by the extant records of Nantucket.

It appears, that when he visited Boston, before the war, he succeeded in persuading the government,—as, no doubt, was the truth of the case,—that notwithstanding the old league of his father, renewed by himself, or rather by force of it, he was still independent of Plymouth. "These successive engagements were agreements of amity, and not of subjection any further, as he apprehended." He then desired to see a copy of the treaty, and requested that one might be procured for him. He knew, he added, that the praying Indians had submitted to the English; but the Pokanokets had done no such thing, and they were not subject. The letter of the Massachusetts to the Plymouth Government, written just after this interview with the sachem, is well worthy of notice. "We do not understand," say the former, "how far he hath subjected himself to you; but the treatment you have given him, does not render him such a subject, as that, if there be not present answering to summons, there should presently be a proceeding to hostilities."

Philip had himself the same notion of a Plymouth summons; and yet either policy or good feeling induced him to visit the Plymouth Governor, in March, 1675, for the purpose of quieting the suspicions of the Colony; nothing was discovered against him, and he returned home. He maintained privately the same frank but proud independence. He was opposed to Christianity as much as his father was, and would make no concessions upon that point. Possibly the remembrance of Sassamon might have rankled in his bosom, when, upon the venerable Eliot once undertaking to convert him, he took one of his buttons between his fingers, and told him he cared no more for the Gospel than for that button. That he was generally more civil, however, may be inferred from Gookin's statement; "I have heard him speak very good words, arguing that his conscience is convicted &c." The sachem evidently made himself agreeable in this case.

In regard to his personal appearance, always a matter of curiosity in the case of great men, sketches purporting to be portraits of him are extant, but none of them are believed to have more verisimilitude than the grotesque caricature prefixed to the old narrative of Captain Church (the model of the series); and we must therefore content ourselves to remain ignorant in this matter. As to his costume, Josselyn who saw him at Boston says that he had a coat on, and buskins set thick with beads, "in pleasant wild works and a broad belt of the same;" his accoutrements being valued at £20. A family in Swanzey (Mass) is understood to be still in possession of some of the royalties which were given up by Anawon, at the time of his capture by Church. [FN] There were two horns of glazed powder, a red-cloth blanket, and three richly and beautifully wrought wampum belts. One was nine inches wide, and so long as to extend from the shoulder to the ankles. To the second, which was worn on the head, were attached two ornamented small flags. The third and smallest had a star figured in beads upon one end, which came over the bosom.

[FN] Anawon is said to have been Philip's chief counsellor and captain during the war; and also to have fought under Massasoit. But the latter was not a very belligerent character; nor do we find mention of Anawon's services under Philip, previous to the time of his fall at the swamp-skirmish, when the counsellor made his escape. Hubbard states that he boasted of having killed ten whites in one day; but nearly all that is known of him we derive from the picturesque account of his capture by Church, who headed an expedition for the express purpose. Anawon met his misfortune, and even entertained his conqueror, most manfully on that occasion; and Church reciprocated his courtesies; but all in vain—the old warrior, with many others of his tribe, was soon after beheaded at Plymouth. To the traveller from Taunton to Providence, through the south-east corner of Rehoboth, Anawon's rock is pointed out to this day—an enormous pile, from twenty-five to thirty feet high, on a sort of island in a swamp of some thousand acres.

Philip was far from being a mere barbarian in his manners and feelings. There is not an instance to be met with, of his having maltreated a captive in any way, even while the English were selling his own people as slaves abroad, or torturing and hanging them at home. The famous Mrs. Rowlandson speaks of meeting with him during her doleful captivity. He invited her to call at his lodge; and when she did so, bade her sit down, and asked her if she would smoke. On meeting her again, he requested her to make some garment for his child, and for this he paid her a shilling. He afterwards took the trouble of visiting her for the purpose of assuring her, that "in a fortnight she should be her own mistress." Her last interview, it must be allowed, shows his shrewdness to rather more advantage than his fair dealing. It was Indian stratagem in war-time, however; and the half-clad sachem was at this very time living upon ground-nuts, acorns and lily-roots. "Philip, smelling the business, [her ransom,] called me to him, and asked me what I would give him to tell me some good news, and to speak a good word for me, that I might go home to-morrow. I told him I could not tell,—but any thing I had,—and asked him what he would have. He said two coats, and twenty shillings in money, half a bushel of seed-corn, and some tobacco. I thanked him for his love, but I knew that good news as well as that crafty fox." It is probable he was amusing himself with this good woman, much as he did with the worthy Mr. Gookin; but at all events, there are no traces of malevolent feeling in these simple anecdotes.

What is more striking, we find that when one James Brown, of Swanzey, brought him a letter from Plymouth, just before hostilities commenced, and the young warriors were upon the point of killing him, Philip interfered and prevented it, saying, that "his father had charged him to show kindness to Mr. Brown." Accordingly, it is recorded in Hubbard, that a little before his death, the old sachem had visited Mr. Brown, who lived not far from Montaup, and earnestly desired that the love and amity he had received, might be continued to the children. It was probably this circumstance, which induced Brown himself, to engage in such a hazardous enterprize, after an interval, probably, of some twenty years.

Nor should we pass over the kindness of Philip to the Leonard family, who resided near Fowling Pond, in what is now Raynham. Philip, who wintered at Montaup,—for the convenience of fishing, perhaps,—was accustomed to spend the summer at a hunting-house, by this pond. There he became intimate with the Leonards, traded with them, and had his arms repaired by them frequently. On the breaking out of the war, he gave strict orders that these men should never be hurt, as they never were; [FN] and, indeed, the whole town of Taunton,—as it then was,—remained almost entirely unmolested throughout the war, and amid all the ravages and massacres which daily took place upon its very borders. How much of provocation and humiliation he was himself enduring meanwhile, we have already seen. All his relations were killed or captured, and a price set upon his own life.

[FN] A forge is still in operation upon the site of the one here mentioned. The original Leonard-House, where tradition says that Philip's head was deposited for some time, is represented in the Vignette prefixed to this volume. It is still occupied by one of the family, of the sixth generation from the builder, and, so far as we are informed, is the oldest mansion now standing in this country. The vane, at one of the gable-ends is inscribed with the date 1700; but there is little doubt of the house having been erected at least thirty years previous. The workmanship, especially within, is remarkably massive and sound. It is apparently modelled after an English fashion of the eighteenth century, with some modifications proper for defence against the Indians. It was garrisoned during the war.—The Fowling Pond, still so called, has become a thick swamp. An aged gentleman was living not many years since, who in boyhood had frequently gone off in a canoe, to catch fish in its waters. Indian weapons and utensils are still found on its borders.

It is a matter of melancholy interest to know, that the sachem, wretched and hopeless as he had become in his last days, was still surrounded by a band of his faithful and affectionate followers. At the very moment of his fatal surprise by the English, he is said to have been telling them of his gloomy dreams, [FN-1] and advising them to desert him and provide for their own safety. A few minutes after this, he was shot in attempting to escape from the swamp. An Englishman,—one Cook,—aimed at him, but his gun missed fire; the Indian who was stationed to watch at the same place, discharged his musket, and shot him through the heart. The news of this success was of course received with great satisfaction; Church says, that "the whole army gave three loud huzzas." It is to be regretted that the honest captain suffered his prejudices to carry him so far, that he denied the rites of burial to his great enemy. He had him quartered, on the contrary, and his head carried to Plymouth, where, as Mather is careful to tell us, it arrived on the very day when the church there were keeping a solemn thanksgiving. The conqueror's temper was soured by the illiberality of the Government toward himself. For this march he received but four and sixpence a man, together with thirty shillings a head for the killed. He observes that Philip's head went at the same price, and he thought it a "scanty reward and poor encouragement." The sachem's head was carried about the Colony in triumph; [FN-2] and the Indian who killed him was rewarded with one of his hands. To finish the wretched detail, several of his principal royalties were soon after given up by one of his chief captains; and the lock of the gun which was fatal to him, with a samp-dish found in his wigwam, are still to be seen among the antiquities of the Historical Society of Massachusetts. Montaup, which became the subject of a dispute between the Massachusetts and Plymouth Colonies, was finally awarded to the latter by a special decision of King Charles.

[FN-1] The violent prejudice existing against Philip, unmitigated even by his sufferings and death, appears singularly in a parenthetical surmise of Hubbard, "whether the devil appeared to him that night in a dream, foreboding his tragical end, it matters not." So Mather says, he was hung up like Ahag, after being shot through his "venomous and murderous heart." Church, generally an honorable and humane man, speaks of his fallen foe, in terms which we regard his reputation too much to repeat.

[FN-2] It was kept many years at Plymouth, Dr. Mather says in 1700.—"It is not long since the hand which now writes upon a certain occasion took off the jaw from the exposed skull of that blasphemous leviathan."

Last and worst of all, his only son, a boy of nine years of age, whom we have already noticed as among the English captives, was sold as a slave and shipped to Burmuda. It should be stated, however, that this unfortunate measure was not taken without some scruples. The Plymouth Court were so much perplexed upon the occasion, as to conclude upon applying to the clergymen of the Colony for advice. Mr. Cotton was of opinion that "the children of notorious traitors, rebels, and murderers, especially such as have been principal leaders and actors in such horrid villainies, might be involved, in the guilt of their parents, and might, salva republica, be adjudged to death." Dr. Increase Mather compared the child to Hadad, whose father was killed by Joab; and he intimates, that if Hadad himself had not escaped, David would have taken measures to prevent his molesting the next generation. It is gratifying to know, that the course he recommended was postponed, even to the ignominious and mortifying one we have mentioned.

Such was the impression which had been universally forced upon the Colonists by the terrible spirit of Philip. And never was a civilized or an uncivilized enemy more generally or more justly feared. How much greater his success might have been, had circumstances favored, instead of opposing him, it is fortunately impossible for us to estimate. It is confessed, however, that had even the Narraghansetts joined him during the first summer of the war,—as nothing but the abrupt commencement of it prevented them from doing,—the whole country, from the Piscataqua to the Sound, must have been over-swept and desolated. But as it was, Philip did and endured enough to immortalize him as a warrior, a statesman, and we may add, as a high-minded and noble patriot. Whatever might be the prejudice against him in the days of terror produced by his prowess, there are both the magnanimity and the calmness in these times, to do him the justice he deserves. He fought and fell,—miserably, indeed, but gloriously,—the avenger of his own household, the worshipper of his own gods, the guardian of his own honor, a martyr for the soil which was his birth-place, and for the proud liberty which was his birth-right.