CHAPTER XXI.

_Dutch settlement in New York.--Indian account of the matter.-- Uncas, chief of the Mohicans.--His war with the Narragansets.-- Philip.--His wars and death.--Present state of the Indians in New England._

The country around the mouth of the Hudson, and the island on which the great city of New York is situated, were first settled by the Dutch. They found the land occupied by a powerful tribe of Indians, descended from the Delawares, called the Mohicans, by whom they were received with the greatest kindness and respect. The natives give an amusing account of the first arrival of these strangers.

“A great many years ago,” say they, “when men with a white skin had never been seen in this land, some Indians, who were out a fishing at a place where the sea widens, espied at a distance something remarkably large floating on the water, and such as they had never seen before. These Indians, immediately returning to the shore, apprized their countrymen of what they had observed, and pressed them to discover what it might be. They hurried out together, and saw with astonishment the phenomenon which now appeared to their sight, but could not agree upon what it was: some believed it to be an uncommonly large fish or animal, while others were of opinion that it must be a very big house, floating on the water.

“Runners were sent off in every direction with the wonderful intelligence, and the people crowded to the shore to view the strange appearance. They concluded that the Manito, or Great Spirit, himself was coming to visit them, in this huge vessel. All the idols and temples were put in order, and a grand dance and feast was prepared to entertain him. While in this situation, fresh runners arrived, declaring it to be positively a large house, crowded with beings of quite a different color from that of the Indians, and clothed differently from them; that, in particular, one of them was dressed entirely in red, who must be the Manito himself.

“The house, or as some say, large canoe, at last stops, and a canoe of smaller size comes on shore, with the man in red, and some others in it; some stay with the canoe to guard it. The chiefs and wise men form a circle, towards which the man in red clothes advances with two others. He salutes them with a friendly countenance, and they return the salute after their manner; they are lost in admiration at the dress, the manners, and the whole appearance of the unknown strangers; but they are particularly struck with him who wore the red coat, all glittering with gold lace, which they could in no manner account for. He surely must be the great Manito, but why should he have a white skin?

“Meanwhile a large bottle is brought by one of his servants, from which he pours out an unknown liquid into a small cup or glass, and drinks:--he then fills it again, and hands it to the chief nearest him, who only smells of it, and passes it to the next, who does the same; and the glass is about to be returned to the red-clothed Manito, untasted, when one of the Indians, a brave man and a great warrior, suddenly jumps up and harangues the assembly on the impropriety of refusing the request of Manito, and not drinking the liquor, when he had set them the example. For himself, he declared, that rather than provoke the wrath of the Great Spirit by this conduct, he would, if necessary, devote himself to death for the good of the nation.

“He then took the glass, and bidding the whole assembly a solemn farewell, drank up its whole contents: he soon began to stagger, and at last fell prostrate to the ground. His companions now bemoan his fate, thinking that he has expired; suddenly he wakes, jumps up, and declares that he has enjoyed the most delicious sensations from drinking the liquor, and asks for more. The whole assembly imitate him, and all become intoxicated.

“After they had recovered from the effects of this scene, the strangers distributed among them presents of beads, axes, hoes, &c., and then departed. In about a year they returned, and concluded to settle there: for this purpose, they only asked for as much land as the hide of a bullock, which was then spread before them, would take in. The Indians readily granted this slight request; but the whites then took a knife, and cut the hide into a long strip of rope, not thicker than a child’s finger, with which they were able to encompass a large piece of ground. The Indians were surprised at the superior wit of the whites, but did not care to dispute about a little land, as they had still enough for themselves; and they lived for some time contentedly with their new neighbors.” The Dutch, however, did not long keep possession of the country, which they had thus unfairly gained; about fifty years afterwards, it was taken from them by the English, who called it New York.

The first grand chief, or _sachem_, of the Mohicans known to the English, was called Uncas: he was a crafty and ambitious chieftain, brave and cunning in war, and cruel to his conquered enemies. He was always a firm friend to the English, probably because he saw that it was for his interest to be so; for he was generally at war with the Six Nations on the north, and the Narragansets, a numerous warlike people on the east, who inhabited the country now called the state of Rhode Island.

In one of these wars, Miantonimo, the Narraganset chief, suddenly invaded the country of the Mohicans, with eight hundred of his bravest warriors, giving Uncas only time to collect about half that number to meet him. He saw that if he should attempt to oppose him by main force, he should certainly be beaten; he therefore resolved to attempt a stratagem.

When the two armies had approached near each other, ordering his warriors to conceal themselves in the long grass, he advanced before them, and challenged his adversary to single combat, saying that it was a great pity that so many brave men should be killed, merely to decide a private quarrel. But Miantonimo knew well that he had the advantage in numbers, and he was resolved not to lose it. “My warriors,” said the fierce chieftain, “have come a long way to fight, and they _shall_ fight.”

Uncas had expected this answer, and instantly fell flat to the ground. His men, rising, poured on their enemies a volley of arrows, rushed on them with a hideous yell, and soon put them to flight. Miantonimo was taken prisoner; he scorned to beg his life of his victorious enemy, and was put to death, but without cruelty, on account of the request of the English.

After the death of Uncas, which happened about the year 1680, his tribe gradually dwindled away, under their continual wars with the whites, and the other Indians, and their own evil passions, until the feeble remnant of a once powerful people was compelled to abandon their ancient hunting-grounds, and flee for protection to their _grandfather_, the Delawares, now almost as wretched and powerless as themselves; some even joined their old enemies, the Six Nations, by whom they were generously adopted into that warlike confederacy.

But the greatest and the most renowned of all the New England sachems, was undoubtedly the great chief of the Pokanokets, called by the English, KING PHILIP. He was the son of Massassoit, who ruled the Indians around Plymouth, where the Pilgrim Fathers first landed. He received them kindly, sold them a large tract of land for their settlement, and made a treaty of friendship with them, which lasted unbroken for about fifty years.

The good feeling, however, of the old sachem did not descend to his son Philip, who succeeded him. He saw that the English were gradually encroaching upon the grounds of his race, and that, unless their progress should soon be arrested, the red man would not have where to lay his head in the country of his forefathers. He resolved, therefore, to unite, if possible, all the Indians of New England, from the Penobscot to the Hudson, in one last great attempt to recover from their white invaders their ancient dominions. In a short time, by this artful manœuvre, he had gained over to his cause the warlike nation of the Narragansets, and all the tribes of Maine, for two hundred miles along the coast. But the Indians of New Hampshire, for the most part, kept aloof from the contest, and the Mohicans, under their sachem Uncas, remained ever faithful to the English.

The war between the colonies and the English, commonly called Philip’s War, broke out in the summer of 1675. The savage chief is said to have wept when he heard of the first outrage of the war. He called to mind the long, unbroken friendship, that for half a century had subsisted between the red man and the whites; and his stern heart relented, when he saw that it must now be broken, and forever. But it was too late to retreat. From that hour he never smiled; but his whole soul was bent upon the business before him.

At first, his success was tremendous; in a short time the country was in flames, from one end of the colonies to the other. Thirteen towns were entirely destroyed; seven hundred dwelling houses burnt; and as many Englishmen killed. There was not a family throughout New England, which did not mourn the loss of a relation. But his good fortune did not continue long; the colonies gathered all their strength to meet him; the Mohicans assailed him from the south; and the Mohawks on the north were his implacable enemies. He was defeated in several battles; his allies deserted him; his friends and relations were killed or made prisoners by the English; and he himself was hunted, like a spent deer by blood-hounds, from place to place. Still, even in his worst days, he would not think of peace; one of his attendants, who dared to propose it to him, he killed with his own hand. It was by the brother of the same man, that he was himself slain.

A few minutes before his death, he is said to have been telling his few remaining friends of his gloomy dreams, and urging them to leave him, and provide for their own safety. On a sudden, the swamp in which he lay concealed, was surrounded by the English, and in attempting to escape, he was shot.

With this great man and noble warrior, perished the last hopes of the natives of New England. From that moment they rapidly melted away before the advance of the whites, and finally became extinct, or mingled with other nations of the west; who, in their turn, sunk under the power of their civilized invaders. A few Indians still remain, scattered about in various parts of Massachusetts, Rhode-Island, and Connecticut. At Marshpee, on Cape Cod, and on Martha’s Vineyard, there are still a few hundreds; but they have forgotten their ancient habits and language. They are mostly in a wretched state, idle and dissolute. A number of the young men, however, are employed in the whale fishery, and are skilful and industrious. The powerful tribe of the Narragansets are reduced to about four hundred persons, who live at Charlestown, in the southern part of Rhode Island.

[Illustration: _Death of Tecumseh._]