Daniel Gookin, the Praying Indians, and King Philip’S War

DANIEL GOOKIN, THE PRAYING INDIANS, AND KING PHILIP’S WAR

This volume presents a valuable collection of annotated primary documents published during King Philip’s War (1675–76), a conflict that pitted English colonists against many native peoples of southern New England, to reveal the real-life experiences of early Americans. Louise Breen’s detailed introduction to Daniel Gookin and the War, com- bined with interpretations of the accompanying ancillary documents, offers a set of inaccessible or unpublished archival documents that illustrate the distrust and mistreatment heaped upon praying (Christian) Indians. The book begins with an informative annotation of Historical Account of the Doings and Sufferings of the Christian Indians in New England, in the Years 1675, 1675, and 1677, written by Gookin, a magistrate and military leader who defended Mas- sachusetts’ praying Indians, to expose atrocities committed against natives and the experiences of specific individuals and towns during the war. Develop- ments in societal, and particularly religious, inclusivity in Puritan New England during this period of colonial conflict are thoroughly explored through Breen’s analysis. The book offers students primary sources that are pertinent to survey history courses on Early Americans and Colonial History, as well as providing instructors with documents that serve as concrete examples to illustrate broad societal changes that occurred during the seventeenth century.

Louise A. Breen is Associate Professor of History at Kansas State University, where she researches and teaches in the ﬁelds of colonial, Atlantic, and revolu- tionary history. She is the author of Transgressing the Bounds: Subversive Enter- prises among the Puritan Elite in Massachusetts, 1630–1692.

DANIEL GOOKIN, THE PRAYING INDIANS, AND KING PHILIP’S WAR

A Short History in Documents

Louise A. Breen First published 2020 by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 Taylor & Francis The right of Louise A. Breen to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Breen, Louise A., author. | Gookin, Daniel, 1612-1687. Historical account of the doings and sufferings of the Christian Indians in New England, in the years 1675, 1676, 1677. Title: Daniel Gookin, the praying Indians, and King Philip's War : a short history in documents / Louise A Breen. Description: New York, NY : Routledge, 2020. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019029740 (print) | LCCN 2019029741 (ebook) | ISBN 9781138745315 (hardback) | ISBN 9781138745322 (paperback) | ISBN 9781315159690 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Gookin, Daniel, 1612-1687. | King Philip's War, 1675-1676–Sources. | Indians of North America–New England– History–17th century. | Indians of North America–New England– Religion. Classification: LCC E83.67 .B793 2020 (print) | LCC E83.67 (ebook) | DDC 973.2/4–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019029740 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019029741

ISBN: 978-1-138-74531-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-138-74532-2 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-15969-0 (ebk)

Typeset in Bembo by Swales & Willis, Exeter, Devon, UK CONTENTS

PART I General Introduction 1

Daniel Gookin and His Advocacy of Praying Indians During King Philip’s War 3

PART II Central Primary Source Document 37

Daniel Gookin, An Historical Account of the Doings and Suﬀerings of the Christian Indians in New England in the Years 1675, 1676, 1677 39

PART III Ancillary Primary Source Documents 123

A. Superintendent of the Praying Indians 125 The Irish Connection: Vincent Gookin Condemns Plan to “Transplant” Irish to Connaught, 1655 125 Daniel Gookin Questions Praying Indian Sarah Ahaton on Her Adultery 132 vi Contents

Gookin Expresses Outrage over a Rumor That He Was Inciting Indians to Violence: Correspondence between Daniel Gookin and Thomas Prence/Prince, 1671 136

B. War and Internal Conﬂict 140 The Reverend John Eliot Petitions against the Selling of Indian Captives as Slaves 140 The View from Providence: Excerpts from the Letter of Mary Pray to Captain James Oliver, October 20, 1675 142 Job Kattenanit Humbly Petitions for Permission to Rescue His Children 145 The Spy Mission: James Quannapohit’s “Relation” 147 Death Threat against Daniel Gookin and Thomas Danforth 156 Richard Scott Assails Gookin’s Character at the Blue Anchor Tavern 156 William Harris, Refugee in Newport, Writes to English Secretary of State Sir Joseph Williamson 158

C. Scant Mercy 172 William Wannuckhow and Sons Petition for Their Lives 172 John Lake Requests a Stay of Sagamore Sam’s Execution in Exchange for Help Finding His Brother 176 Daniel Gookin Certifies the Courage of Two Praying Indian Men Wishing to Free Their Captured Niece from Prison, August 1676 180 William Ahaton Pleads for the Freedom of a Five-Year Old Relative, July, 1676 182 Daniel Gookin Certifies That Mary Nemasit, Wife of a Praying Indian Soldier, Was Sold by Mistake 183 Gookin Helps a Natick Woman Get Compensation for a Confiscated Gun 185 Wait Winthrop and Wamesit Land, 1679–80 186

Index 189 PART I General Introduction

DANIEL GOOKIN AND HIS ADVOCACY OF PRAYING INDIANS DURING KING PHILIP’SWAR

Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” In the winter of 1675–76, a frantic father, Job Kattenanit, became separated from his three children during the wrenching conflict known as King Philip’sWar, which pitted most of southern New England’s native peoples against English colonists. There was evidence to suggest that the children had been taken under duress to an enemy camp. Yet Kattenanit was an Indian, and his struggle to rescue his family elicited little sympathy. Even though he was a devout Puritan who had served valiantly with English militias, his co-religionists believed that his desire to retrieve his children was just a ploy to carry information to the enemy.1 Modern historians would know very little about Job Kattenanit, other than archival gleanings, if it were not for a singularly distinct account of King Phi- lip’s War written in 1677 by Daniel Gookin, a high-ranking Puritan magistrate and militia officer in Massachusetts who served as Superintendent of the praying Indians – the term used for Indians who had converted to Puritan Christianity.2 In the face of increasingly hostile public opinion during the war, Gookin insisted that praying Indians were overwhelmingly loyal, and recom- mended integrating them into the war effort. He became such a hated figure that a group of irate colonists threatened his life in February 1676, and by May he lost his seat as a magistrate.3 While most accounts of King Philip’s War from this period placed English colonists in a central role, Gookin’s Historical Account of the Doings and Sufferings of the Christian Indians in New England made praying Indians the main protag- onists and argued that the colonists would not have been able to win the war without the help of praying Indians.4 The words “doings” and “sufferings” in the title carried great meaning, for Gookin intended to show that the military 4 General Introduction accomplishments of praying Indian scouts – the “doings”–were worthy of notice and thanks, while their “sufferings” had earned them a place in providential history. This latter point was perhaps the more controversial. Puritan providentialism held that when God punished his people with hor- rible afflictions, such as war, it was because he wished to push them back onto the right path – not eradicate them. King Philip’s War had a clear religious meaning for the English: God had allowed the “savage” Indians (who were just pawns in this line of thinking) to assail the godly and test their faith so that they would have a chance to reform themselves and be confirmed as a special people of God. Suffering under the “rod” of the enemy conferred an elevated status upon the sufferers; and Gookin attempted to claim this status for praying Indians.5 They too suffered and emerged – as Gookin showed by demonstrating the unwavering faith of Indian Puritans like Job Kattenanit – stronger Christians. His narrative was both a rebuke to the many colonists in Massachusetts who had heaped cruelties upon praying Indians during and after the war, and a plea to the charitable organization in England that funded the missions to disregard such claims and pay attention to their “particular and real” accomplishments. Gookin realized that telling the story of the praying Indians was important because their chance for acceptance and continued support in the postwar world depended on how people perceived their behavior during the hostilities; thus, the praying Indians had “no small share in the effects and consequences of this war.” Gookin wrote against the grain by arguing that in relation to the praying Indians it was the English – not just the “savage” enemy – who acted as a providential rod of affliction. In the dominant storyline, the English were tested when enemy Indians made them suffer by burning their towns, killing and maim- ing their family members, taking their children captive, destroying their livestock, and taunting them.6 In Gookin’s telling of the providential history of the war, however, Christian Indians, too, had their faith tested – but it was English Puritans who made them suffer. In the pages of Doings and Sufferings, Gookin relates incident after incident in which Englishmen falsely accused praying Indians of crimes, coveted their land, murdered them, imprisoned them, restricted their movements, interned them on barren islands in the harbor, and stole their possessions. And yet, through all this adversity, the majority remained steadfast in their faith and loyalty. Their “doings” helped the English win the war, and their “sufferings” made them a part of Puritan society, at least as far as Gookin was concerned. Most of his con- temporaries thought differently. Doings and Sufferings, because of its central argument that praying Indians performed great exploits and suffered crushing agonies every bit as shattering as those endured by any English person, opens a window onto the lived experiences of praying Indians as individual human beings who were put in an impossible position during King Philip’s War, sometimes having to balance their faith and loyalty to the English against their concern for family and Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 5 friends who found themselves – or chose to be – in enemy camps.7 Gookin expends great effort throughout the narrative in describing the challenges faced by many specific individuals and groups whom he knew personally after more than a decade of work in praying towns with missionary and clergyman John Eliot. The extended odyssey of Job Kattenanit to find his children despite unremitting persecution stands out in terms of its ability to put a human face on wartime suffering, but the narrative contains many other poignant accounts of Christian Indians who were sorely tested during the war. The Pennacook sachem Wannalancet, for example, retreated as far away as he could from Eng- lish habitations for fear of getting caught up in the violence, yet his life was upended by its repercussions; meanwhile Wuttasacomponom, or “Captain Tom,” the leader of a Christian Indian town called Hassanamesit, was contro- versially accused, convicted and executed for joining the enemy as an active fighter. Remarkably, Gookin – who did not believe Captain Tom ever took up arms for the enemy – depicted the choices he had made in a sympathetic light, saying that sometimes Indians faced so much abuse at the hands of the English that the temptation to go over to the “enemy” became too great. Gookin carefully edited his presentation of the history of the individuals, groups or events he covered. As a magistrate who had the role of developing strategy for the fighting of King Philip’s War, Gookin must have understood that the contacts praying Indians had with non-Christian Indians, and their knowledge of indigenous fighting methods, were invaluable. But he also knew that certain audiences would view all contact with warring Indians, or their ways, as tainted.8 Gookin therefore sometimes omitted certain facts or presented them out of sequence, in order to mute or highlight particular details, depending on his anticipation of audience response or his broader purpose in telling a particular story in the first place. While elevating Job Kattenanit as a key exemplar of self-sacrificing steadfastness in the face of adversity, for example, Gookin did not mention that two of his brothers had participated in violent acts against the English. It is important to keep this in mind while reading Doings and Sufferings. While Gookin had to acknowledge that some switched sides during the war, or had relatives who fought against the English, he argued that it was not Indian perfidy but flawed English policies – such as enslaving captured Indians and selling them out of the region – that drove otherwise faithful people into the arms of the enemy.

King Philip’s War King Philip’s War was named for the Wampanoag sachem, Metacom, whose conflict with the Plymouth colony grew to encompass all southern New Eng- land. Metacom had been born into a world where native peoples accommo- dated and traded with their English neighbors, but by the middle of the 6 General Introduction century, with the fur trade in decline, the English seemed to be reaping all the benefits.9 As the population grew, English householders’ desire for land out- weighed their desire for trade with native peoples.10 Increasingly, colonists encroached on Wampanoag lands and allowed their livestock to roam into the unfenced fields of Indians, destroying their crops. When Philip’s people attempted to get involved in raising hogs and selling meat so that they could sustain themselves financially without having to sell land, colonists found ways to keep them out of the market.11 Throughout the 1660s and early 1670s, the English refused to address these issues, and humiliated King Philip by treating him as a subordinate, or subject.12 In the spring of 1675, the English executed several of Philip’s men whom they had found guilty of murdering the Christian Indian John Sassamon, whom the Wampanoags saw as a traitor. In claiming jurisdiction over a crime among Indians, Plymouth had grievously offended Philip, and in June 1675 Wampanoag looters assailed Swansea. Violence ensued when an Englishman shot and killed an Indian doing damage to English property, and matters escal- ated from there, igniting a war that encompassed all New England and even spread into the Wabanaki lands of modern-day Maine.13 The looting at Swansea was probably spontaneous, but most historians agree that Philip was planning to resist English authority. Although Philip should not be understood as the leader of all the Indians who ended up joining in the hostilities, he did reach out to as many groups as possible to create a coalition.14 The region’s non-Christian Mohegans and Pequots, on the other hand, sided with the English – a phenomenon that Gookin does not address other than to comment on the long-term strife between Mohegans and Narragansetts, imply- ing that Mohegans who participated in the war were interested in getting back at ancient enemies while Christian Indians had higher motives. Interestingly, Uncas, a reliable ally of the English, had categorically refused to convert, resenting – like King Philip – the ways Christian missions undermined his authority as a sachem.15 When violence broke out at Plymouth, colonial leaders in Massachusetts and Connecticut feared that it would spread and sent out teams of negotiators to ensure the loyalty of neighboring native peoples. The excessive proofs of loyalty that these negotiators demanded, however, alienated potential allies and drove many to support Philip, making it difficult for Indians in the region to remain neutral. When the English insisted on the surrender of guns from groups with whom they had had good relations or demanded that they hand over not only fighters but noncombatants seeking safe havens, they demon- strated their distrust of supposed friends, and insulted their hosts.16 Indians, meanwhile, who were acutely aware of the political rifts between the various English colonies, and between those colonies and the Crown, had not thought in terms of “sides” being defined by “race” or ethnicity. The war would teach them differently.17 Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 7

Daniel Gookin and the Praying Indians The praying Indians were Massachusett, Nipmuc, Pennacook and Pawtucket Indians who had been converted to Christianity, beginning at mid-century, by the “apostle” to the Indians, John Eliot, and settled – with his help – in “praying towns,” where they were supposed to abide by English rather than indigenous cultural norms.18 Indians were willing to entertain missionary overtures for various reasons: they hoped to harness the Englishmen’s God to help them in the epidemics that periodically scourged the land; to solidify their connection to a powerful new ally; to establish stable land tenure; or to engage with and render new spiritual principles relevant to indigenous world views.19 Often, they did not anticipate the cultural changes that they would be expected to make.20 Ethnicity was not supposed to be a barrier to spiritual camaraderie as far as Puritan thought was concerned; quite the opposite. But once King Philip’s War broke out it became obvious that many colonists had begun to see the Indians as a people apart, and to place far more stock in their ethnic, as opposed to religious identity. In this context, Gookin’s outspoken defense of praying Indians made him a pariah. Gookin came from a family with multifaceted transatlantic interests in both Ireland and the Chesapeake.21 He first ventured to Virginia, where he managed land for his colonizing father, Daniel Gookin, Sr., and then established plantations of his own, including one in Maryland. But when the Virginia governor, William Berkeley, expelled preachers that Gookin and other Puritans had invited from New England, Gookin decided to relocate to Massachusetts, though he retained his holdings in Virginia and engaged in the intercolonial coasting trade. As a colonizer of the Chesa- peake, Gookin was well accustomed to unfree forms of labor, and owned slaves.22 In the 1650s, Gookin journeyed to England several times to conduct family business during the Protectorate of Oliver Crowell, who had risen to power in England’s Civil War as military dictator. Gookin’s cousin from Ireland, Vin- cent Gookin, was then serving in Parliament, and published a tract arguing in favor of humane treatment of the Irish Catholics, even in the wake of a violent rebellion they were blamed for having fomented – something that may have influenced Gookin’s stance two decades later during King Philip’s War.23 While in England, Gookin also accepted an assignment to aid the Western Design, Cromwell’s project to drive the Spanish out of the Americas. Gookin’s role was to try and convince New Englanders to migrate and take up lands in Jamaica, which the English seized from the Spanish in 1655. But New Englan- ders were not eager to pick up stakes and move to a disease-ridden island.24 To critics who chided them for not being more supportive of a project that 8 General Introduction might spread Christianity to Indians and slaves, New Englanders could point to the proselytizing efforts going on in their own backyard.25 Gookin’s chances for public preferment in England came to an abrupt halt in 1660, when royal government was restored under Charles II. With his options on the wider transatlantic imperial stage curtailed, Gookin officially took up the post of Superintendent in 1661. The post provided him with a small stipend from the Company for Propagation of the Gospel in New England (or New England Company), the London-based charitable organization that supported missionary work in the region. The New England Com- pany published literature reporting on the progress of the mission, as well as Eliot’s “Indian Bible,” which the latter translated into an indigenous language with the help of native linguists. The president of the New England Com- pany was Robert Boyle, who saw the conversion of native peoples as a project in which all Protestants could unite in a common cause rather than perpetuate bitter Civil War rivalries. Boyle’s father, Richard Boyle, had been an authority figure to many of the English families colonizing in Ireland, including the Gookins.26 John Eliot saw “civility” as a key component of conversion. Indian converts were expected to live in “praying” towns, where they could create their own gathered congregations and be guided by properly trained indigenous teachers and civil rulers.27 It was Gookin’s job as Superintendent to oversee the praying Indians’ holding of court sessions, and to encourage economic productivity. In 1674, he wrote an unpublished account about the “Indians of New England” in which he provided detailed descriptions of the praying towns he and Eliot visited, and their efforts to install fitting leaders.28

The Narrative Doings and Sufferings is a loosely chronological history of wartime events relating to Massachusetts and the praying Indians. Gookin deliberately chose to exclude from consideration Indians with whom the English maintained a “good correspon- dency.” These included the non-Christian Mohegans and Pequots, allies of Con- necticut, as well as the Christian Indians who lived on Martha’sVineyard, Nantucket, Cape Cod, and Norwich, Connecticut.29 These did not encounter sustained abuse at the hands of colonists, and therefore did not fit into the pattern that Gookin identified in Massachusetts, where colonists turned against the praying Indians and resisted efforts to incorporate them into the colony’s militias. Gookin further subdivided the praying towns into two categories: “old” and “new,” and excluded the latter from consideration. The “old” towns – Natick, Hassanamesit, Okommakamesit, Punkapoag, Magunkaquog, Wamesit, and Nashobah – founded well before the war, were places where Christian practices were well established. The “new” towns in the Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 9

Nipmuc country of central Massachusetts – Manchage, Chabanakongkomun, Maanexit, Quantisset, Wabquisset, and Waeuntug – were, in contrast, only just beginning to coalesce as of 1674, when Gookin and Eliot visited them and held meetings to get them organized; they also had hopes for Weshakim and Quabaug. During their 1674 circuit, Gookin and Eliot had appointed as praying town leaders some of the same figures who emerged as enemies to the English in 1675. Matoonas, for example, who led an attack on Mendon on July 14, 1675, was a Christian Indian whom Gookin had designated constable of Pakachoog.30 Gookin wanted to keep old and new praying towns separate in readers’ minds because otherwise they might conclude that praying Indian loyalty was not as unflagging as he said, or that he was not as good a judge of praying Indian character as he insisted. Gookin believed that hatred of the praying Indians must have been part of the providential judgment on New England. God had blinded Massachusetts to the benefits of praying Indian military aid and allowed the people to suc- cumb to their worst impulses, demanding policies that Gookin abhorred – such as the internment of Christian Indians on Deer Island in Boston harbor. Documentation of the cruelties that colonists heaped upon the praying Indians – and the praying Indians’ abiding faith and loyalty in the face of great adversity – comprises the bulk of the narrative, as Gookin shows the terrible progression of events that flowed from the magistrates’ failure to break through their providential blindness and exert control over the “multitude.” Above all, Gookin argued that the war was meant to test all Christians, not just the English, and it could not be won until the Bay Colony accepted praying Indian help. In the beginning of the war, praying Indians, such as the brothers James and Thomas Quannapohit and Zechary Abram, served valiantly at Mount Hope and Pocasset Swamp trying to contain Philip before he could reach out and convince the Nipmucs of central Massachusetts to join him. Tragically, the linguist Job Nesutan (or Nesuton), who helped Eliot with his translation projects, gave his life in these efforts.31 Meanwhile in central Massa- chusetts, praying Indians Joseph and Sampson Petavit, or Petuhanit, and George Memecho tried to convince Captain Edward Hutchinson to stay away from a parley near Quabaug with a group of Nipmucs who ended up ambush- ing his party and then besieging the town of Brookfield; it was only by virtue of praying Indian help that the mortally wounded Hutchinson and other Eng- lishmen made it back to Brookfield.32 Gookin explains that in both instances, the English missed critical oppor- tunities because they did not listen to their praying Indian guides. Had they heeded praying Indians who said they should pursue Philip harder, they would have been able to capture him; and had they held back from the parley at Quabaug, they might not have been ambushed. But if the commanders issued statements extolling praying Indian service (even though they did not accept their advice), some militiamen had already begun to denounce the praying 10 General Introduction

Indians, saying they shot high to avoid wounding other Indians or malingered during fights. And when the siege of Brookfield was followed within a few weeks by an attack on Deerfield – orchestrated by the Pocumtucks, who were previously thought to be “friendly”–most colonists became convinced that all Indians had closed ranks against them. William Hubbard, the clergyman who wrote the most popular history of King Philip’s War, portrayed this attack as proof that the region’s Indians were all in league with one another, “hanging together” like “serpent’s eggs,” just waiting to strike.33 In reality, the Pocum- tucks likely feared the worst because their neighbors had asked them to surrender their weapons, just as some Nipmucs – including individuals who had taken up roles in “new” praying towns or contemplated it – were concerned about incursions on their land.34 While praying Indians had served well with Massachusetts militias at the very beginning of the war, protests caused magistrates to suspend their use for many months, until the spring and summer of 1676, when praying Indian units began to serve again with the Massachusetts militias under colonial officers. Within this general framework, Gookin’s narrative charts the route by which the English moved closer or farther from accepting the praying Indians as part of their war effort. In the end, even though colonists began seeing the benefits of praying Indian scouts, they did not view them as fellow providential sufferers, or accept them as part of Puritan society.

Okommakamesit/Marlborough: “A Foundation and Beginning of Much Trouble” During the early fall of 1675, Gookin saw a rapid upsurge in the indiscriminate mistrust of native peoples that had begun to show itself during the summer. He protested the proposal – enacted into law by the end of October – that the Chris- tian Indians of Natick should be separated from the English population and moved to Deer Island, pointing out the obligation that colonial leaders had to protect the descendants of Indians who had formally submitted to the Bay Colony several decades earlier, and the responsibilities that the founders had sworn to ful- fill in their 1630 charter.35 In his narrative, he presents the forced move as the humanitarian disaster that it was. Still, it was the trial of the Okommakamesit Indians on trumped-up charges of murder that Gookin described as a key “foundation and beginning of much trouble,” because the mistreatment drove some praying Indians to waver in their loyalty to the English. In late August, 1675, residents of Marlborough suspected that Indians from the praying town of Okommakamesit had murdered seven Englishmen reported dead at Lancaster. Distrusting their magistrates, they called for Samuel Moseley – an English captain known for his uncompromisingly brutal treatment of all Indians – to help them deal swiftly and sternly with the supposed Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 11 perpetrators.36 Moseley captured a Nipmuc Indian, known as David, who con- fessed at gunpoint to another crime and, when pressed further, implicated some of the men at Okommakamesit in the Lancaster murders. Moseley then rushed 15 of them, including 11 Christian Indians, down to Boston, where they faced a vigilante crowd, and cries that they should be executed immedi- ately under “martial law” rather than given the jury trial to which they were entitled as English subjects.37 Although the Okommakamesit men received a trial, the court proceedings were grueling and they feared the whole time that a mob would snatch them out of prison and hang them. Gookin, meanwhile, became wildly unpopular, even among fellow magistrates, because he kept pleading the innocence of the praying Indians. Nathan- iel Saltonstall, who wrote a series of accounts on the progress of the war for publication in England, described in disgust how Gookin and Eliot both tried to thwart the popular will by pleading “so very hard for the Indians, that the whole Council knew not what to do about them.” Saltonstall could not com- prehend why they allowed Gookin in particular to trouble them “daily” with “his Impertinences and multitudinous Speeches.” Saltonstall applauded James Oliver for telling Gookin “that he ought rather to be confined among his Indians, than to sit on the Bench … his taking the Indians Part so much hath made him a Byword both among Men and Boys.” When Gookin later complained that he was “afraid to go along the Streets,” his colleagues told him “you may thank yourself.”38 In Doings and Sufferings, Gookin explains that “many witnesses” demolished in detail every piece of the evidence against the Okommakamesit defendants. One of the men had been seen with a bloody shirt, not because he had been killing Englishmen but because he and others had been out hunting deer; the weapons found in their fort were not being secretly stockpiled in order to attack the English, but had been allocated to them through funding from the New England Company and dispersed by the Commissioners of the United Colonies; and the English pair of bandoliers that one of them possessed was not stolen from a dead Englishmen, but rather had been given by an English commissary to Christian Indian James Quannapohit, while he was out risking his life to fight the common enemy at Mount Hope during the summer. The commissary and James Quannapohit both confirmed this. Another of the accused, James Akompanet, explained that David had pointed the finger at the praying Indians in Marlborough not just because he was afraid for his life, but because he blamed them for having turned over his brother, Andrew, and his nephew to the English a “fortnight” before his own interrogation; as a result, Moseley, using his usual brutal tactics, got them to admit they had a hand in the killing of Hutchinson at Brookfield, resulting in the summary execution of Andrew and the enslavement of the nephew.39 Finally, while the trials were still in session, two hostile Indians were captured and both said that it was the 12 General Introduction sachem One-Eyed John, or Monoco, who had murdered the Englishmen at Lancaster. Most of the accused Okommakamesit Indians were acquitted – justifiably, and on the basis of copious evidence, Gookin takes pains to emphasize – except for Joseph Spoonhaut, who was tried by a different jury that heard testimony from Samuel Scripture, a Groton soldier who claimed he heard Spoon- haut admit to the crime.40 The proof of the Okommakamesit Indians’ innocence, however, did nothing to extinguish the popular notion that praying Indians were enemies in disguise. And the bad taste that it left in the mouths of praying Indians made some ponder their alternatives, leading to the events that caused Job Kattenanit to become separated from his children.

The Hassanamesit Disaster In November 1675, Indians hostile to the English convinced a substantial number of praying Indians congregated around the praying town of Hassanamesit to return with them to Menemesit, a refuge for Indians at war with the colonists.41 The group of praying Indians, consisting of about 50 unarmed men and 150 women and children, had gone to the ﬁelds of Hassanamesit to harvest and store corn, when suddenly they were surrounded by some 300 well-armed combatants who demanded that they go with them “quietly.” The intruders, as Gookin describes the scene, told them that they intended to seize all the corn so that they would end up “famished” if they stayed, while at the same time emphasizing – and this was key for Gookin – English abuses (see also p.78 of this volume):

if we do not kill you, and that you go to the English again, they will either force you all to some island … where you will be in danger to be starved with cold and hunger and most probably in the end be all sent out of the country for slaves. (Gookin, Doings and Suﬀerings, 476.)

This argument resonated strongly, Gookin argued, because the Christian Indian community had been traumatized by the “pretended murder” charges, and some who had endured that ordeal were present. The Christian Indian’s leader, Captain Tom, or Wuttasacomponom, a Nipmuc ruler, “yielded” to the enemy Indians’ arguments and “by his example drew most of the rest.” Samp- son and Joseph Petavit, who had earlier served the English so well at the ambush near Brookﬁeld, were among those who left Hassanamesit that day – as was James Printer, although Gookin does not mention his name. While some of the praying Indians who made their way to Menemesit with the Eng- lishmen’s foes did so willingly, and even subsequently joined in hostilities against the English, others, Gookin emphasized, did so with “heavy hearts and weeping eyes.” These included Joseph Tuckapawillin, the religious teacher of Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 13

Hassanamesit; the three children of Job Kattenanit; and others of their friends and relatives. In the narrative, Gookin argues that the English were to blame for what happened at Hassanamesit because of the abuse that they had heaped upon praying Indians. Militiamen went so far as to prevent Kattenanit from attempting to rescue his children, even though he was in possession of a pass from Gookin giving him permission to travel; instead, they seized him and sent him to Boston, where he had to be placed in jail for his own safety. The English cause would have benefited from having these faithful allies as “walls” against hostile incursions, but instead they made a “great scandal” of the Christian religion and inflicted “a very deep wound to the work of Gospelizing the Indians.” Miscreant Englishmen, Gookin complained, had harmed the war effort, injured the missionary enterprise, and added to the sins that New England would have to overcome if it were ever to win the war. The story of the trials and tribulations of Job Kat- tananit and his brother Tuckapawillin, to whom Gookin refers numerous times throughout the narrative, went a far way toward erasing the image of treacherous praying Indians absconding away to join the enemy, and to prove that this cohort was selfless in their dedication to the cause of God and the English. The incident at Hassanamesit bulked large for Gookin because it made his job as magistrate, and later as chronicler, more difficult. In both roles, he had to explain away an act that the English, whether local or transatlantic, would find highly suspicious. As magistrate, he fulminated against any Indian who would entice praying Indian defections – as he believed the Narragansetts had done – by saying the English had “seased [seized] in order to send away their friends at Naticke other places”–a reference to the fear that the English were gathering praying Indians together at Deer Island to sell them abroad as slaves.42 In Doings and Sufferings, he makes clear that while hostile Indians’ arguments had helped to convince Wuttasacomponom and others to leave, there were some, like Tucka- pawillin, who resisted. These latter he regarded as captives who should have been helped, in the same way that English colonists tried to redeem their captured relatives. For those who marched away with the enemy from Hassanamesit more willingly – because they saw no good outcome no matter what course they chose to follow – Gookin showed sympathy. He describes them not as betrayers, but as people who had been forced to make a choice that godly Englishmen might also have made if put in the same situation.

Wamesit: “We Have neither Done nor Saide Anything against the English that They Thus Deale on Us” Okommakamesit was not the only praying town to deal with the hostility of English colonists. Wamesit, whose people were closely related to the Penna- cook sachem Wannalancet, suffered mightily at the hands of their English 14 General Introduction neighbors in Chelmsford, who used the war as a means of eradicating them. Located near the Merrimack River, the environs of the praying town had always been a gathering point for many different native peoples who traveled there seasonally for fishing. The presence of “strange” Indians frequently in the area may have been a factor in stoking the fears of English colonists.43 In add- ition, authorities were suspicious of Wannalancet, who had avoided meeting with colonial leaders to discuss his loyalty at the outset of the war and instead traveled north to avoid hostilities.44 For the praying Indians of Wamesit, a series of nightmarish events ensued that left many dead and the lives of sur- vivors shattered. Residents of Chelmsford twice accused praying Indians from Wamesit of destroying property belonging to Lieutenant James Richardson, who adamantly denied that the praying Indians could have done the damage. Boston magistrates acquitted most of the accused Indians, but when Chelmsford townsmen became convinced once again that the Indians of Wamesit were guilty of an act of war against them – burning a barn – they took matters into their own hands. Four- teen Chelmsford men traveled to Wamesit, asked the Christian Indians to come out of their wigwams, and then watched as two of the party opened fire, wounding five people and killing one child. A prominent praying Indian woman, Sarah, the daughter of a sachem and the widow of two successive praying Indian leaders, was wounded in the attack and saw her son gunned down before her eyes.45 John Eliot later quoted to Robert Boyle, the President of the New England Company in London, what he imagined would have been her heartrending reaction to the tragedy: “Lord thou seest that we have neither done nor saide anything against the English that they thus deale on us.”46 After the shooting, the terrified Indians from Wamesit fled the village and refused to return, but harsh conditions and starvation drove them back within several weeks. The magistrates, realizing there could be trouble, assigned a committee, on which Gookin and Eliot both served, to ride up and, as Gookin describes it, “encourage and settle them, and persuade the English at Chelmsford to be more friendly to them”–an astounding choice of words given the circumstances. The formal instructions from the Council directed the committee to find a solution in which “they who are friends to the Eng- lish may be secured and the English in those parts also secured and as much as may be satisfied with their settlement,” specifying that the Indians should be “kept to labor” and “bee all disarmed.”47 The English residents of Chelmsford were clearly dismayed that the praying Indians were back in Wamesit. They wrote a petition begging the committee to consider the “dangerous conditions that we are in, in reference to our lives and estate” as a result of the “retourne of the Wamasak Indians amongst us.”48 In it, the townsmen hinted, but did not explicitly state, that they wanted the Indians removed. Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 15

Gookin was frustrated that Indian-hating behaviors played straight into the hands of the enemy. The initial burning of Richardson’s haystack, he explains, was proven to have been done by “some skulking Indians of the enemy, that formerly lived about Groton,” whose purpose was to exacerbate ill feelings between Indian and English Puritans (see also p.74 of this volume):

And one principal design of the enemy was to begin a difference between the English and praying Indians living at Wamesit, that so they might either be secured by the English [presumably at Deer Island, which would harm the English reputation even more in Indian eyes] or necessitated to fly to the enemy. (Gookin, Doings and Sufferings, 471.)

As both magistrate and chronicler, Gookin could only fume at how easily warring Indians could take advantage of the colonists’ bad behavior when trying to get praying Indians to switch sides. Well-meaning as Gookin’s committee may have been, it left Wamesit leaders with no effective tools to protect themselves either from the machinations of enemy Indians or the wrath of their English neighbors. Keenly conscious of Wamesit’s vulnerability, the leaders Numphow, John Line/Lyne, Simon Betogkum, and Sam Numphow prepared a petition of their own, asking that authorities find them a different place to live because enemy Indians did not like them being “well among the English,” and might deliberately damage English property in hopes that the praying Indians would be blamed. “We pray you consider how we may be secured from the Indians now the snow is of[f] the ground and they come when they will to do mischif near to us,” the petition implored, asking that the magistrates provide them some ground where they would have access to “planding and wo[o]d and … food.”49 In his narrative, Gookin explains that the Wamesit guardian, Jerathmeel Bowers, presented this petition on February 5, but it was ignored due to larger events that overshadowed the fate of a small praying town. When the magistrates did not respond, the terrified Indians, under renewed threats from their English neighbors, fled toward Pennacook (Concord, New Hampshire), except for “six or seven aged persons, blind and lame” who were unable to travel. Some “cruel and wicked” Englishmen then decided to murder the old and helpless praying Indians left behind. The praying Indians of Wamesit continued to suffer after this second flight. Two of their leaders – Numphow and Mystic George, a religious teacher – died of sickness, along with many others who, Gookin says, “through famine and sickness lost their lives.” When Wannalancet brought Indians who wished to be “reconciled” to the English in to Major Waldron at Dover, New Hampshire in August, 1676, they were sent down in September to Boston, where Gookin says some colonists accused members of the group of having fought with the enemy, leading to their executions or transportation out of the country.50 Wannalancet himself was spared, along with 16 General Introduction

Sam Numphow, Simon Betogkom, “and very few other men.” Jonathan Tyng, the town founder of Dunstable, later acquired the “Wamesit Purchase,” and Wannalan- cet, after choosing to go away with relatives aﬃliated with the French missions near Quebec, later returned to die on familiar ground, living out his last years under Tyng’s protection.51

A Crescendo of Hate: “the Vulgar Spared Not to Load Them with Reproaches” Acts of violence against praying Indians peaked in February, after James Quan- napohit and Job Kattananit returned from a spy mission to Menemesit. The Council gave Gookin permission to organize this mission because they were worried about whether the “inland” Indians would ally with the Narragansetts, who had entered the war as of late December, 1675, after the United Colonies preemptively attacked their Great Swamp Fort in Rhode Island, killing hun- dreds of noncombatants. Quannapohit and Kattananit were under deep suspi- cion while in Menemesit, but they gained accurate information about enemies’ plans to attack English towns. When the raids began to rain down in February as predicted, however, many colonists believed that it was because the spies had informed the enemy about their vulnerabilities. Panic set in. An anonym- ous group threatened to assassinate Gookin, while others plotted to row out to Deer Island and kill praying Indians interned there.52 In his narrative, Gookin does not speak specifically about the threat on his life, but emphasizes backlash against Kattenanit and Quannapohit, as well as outrages against praying Indians that occurred within that same month at Wamesit and Nashobah. Kattenanit had made use of his time at Menemesit to devise a plan whereby he would guide praying Indians trapped there back to English-controlled territory if they could escape and meet him at an agreed-upon time and place. Upon his return to the English, he submitted a petition to the Massachusetts magistrates asking that he be permitted to travel once again so that he could “bringinmypoorchildren and some few Godly Christians among them.” Although the Council approved Kattenanit’s petition – and Major Thomas Savage, at the head of a newly launched military expedition, allowed him to “goe forth”–militiamen protested so hard that Savage felt compelled to recall Kattenanit, who had missed the rendezvous and was returning anyway.53 When another militia unit found the traumatized little group of refugees, they robbed them before turning them over to Savage, who had them spend the night at Marlborough before sending them on to Boston and Deer Island.54 At Marlborough, they were taunted and harassed by an irate group of townspeople, “especially women.” Four of the party became so frightened that they ran away. In telling this harrowing tale, Gookin reflects not just on the torment that the relatives and friends of Kattenanit endured, but also on the “mutinous” behavior Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 17 of Samuel Moseley, who inspired the disquiet among the soldiers. The captain’s defiance of both military and political authority should not have been tolerated, writes Gookin, but these were no ordinary times. Moseley was behind another incident, in which he seized and removed the praying Indians of Nashobah from the town of Concord, Massachusetts, in direct defiance of the Council’s order that they stay there in the workhouse of lawyer John Hoar.55 The residents of Con- cord had directly appealed to Mosely because they knew he would remove the “heathen” from their midst and make sure they were interned. Moseley was a hero of the war for many of the colonists precisely because he always believed Englishmen over any Indian. His militia company included pirates who were spared execution to participate in the war, and he freely admitted to using the harshest possible tactics, having told Governor John Leverett in October 1675 that he had ordered an Indian woman to be torn apart by dogs in the process of seeking out information.56 Because of their volunteer status, the men of Moseley’s unit behaved as if they did not have to obey the typical rules laid out for militias. The populace knew that, unlike many of their magistrates and militia officers, Moseley could be relied upon to use his punishing tactics against any Indian he came across. His use of the word “heathen” to describe the Christian Indians of Nashobah, and his slights against John Hoar, which Gookin carefully records in Doings and Sufferings,reflected his contempt for the missionary enterprise and the authorities who supported it. Townspeople in both Marlborough and Concord appealed over the heads of their properly constituted authorities to Moseley, whom they trusted would act on their behalf. For Gookin, Moseley was a villain, not a hero, and the incident at Nashobah called forth his most pointed criticism. The captain had acted directly against authority, and yet no one in the government was willing to take a stand and punish him. The “Governor and several others” held a conference with the Dep- uties (lower house of the Legislature), Gookin explains, “manifesting their dissatis- faction at this great irregularity, in setting up a military power in opposition to the chief authority of the country.” Although the deputies appeared to agree that this behavior was disturbing, Moseley met “with no rebuke.” The Court ended up passing a vague order that all “voluntiers in the countryes service” who “do esteeme themselves” outside the conventional command structure should understand that they “shall be subject to all such martiall lawes as are or maybe provided.”57 If this edict were meant for Mosely, he was never punished under it.

Inconvenient Truths and the Passions of the People Gookin’s first order of business in Doings and Sufferings was to establish certain Christian Indians as heroes, not to explore the multiple connections that they had to networks extending outside the praying towns or to loyalties that may 18 General Introduction have competed with the English cause. Although he acknowledges that some praying Indians landed on the side of the enemy, he obscures those instances in a manner that may have seemed either mendacious or naïve, particularly given the spirit of the time.58 Gookin never mentions, for example, that Tuckapawillin was Kattenanit’s brother, or that there were two other siblings, James Printer and Anaweakin, who had been present with warring Indians in violent raids. On February 1, Anaweakin had traveled with a group of Indians, some from the praying town of Magunkaquog, who raided the home of Thomas Eames in current-day Fra- mingham because they thought the family had stolen corn that was missing from where the Indians had stored it.59 James Printer was present a few weeks later at the attack on the town of Medfield, where a note that historians have attributed to Printer was left behind “in a cleft at one of the bridge posts.”

Know by this paper, that the Indians that thou hast provoked to wrath and anger, will war this twenty one years if you will; there are many Indians yet, we come three hundred at this time. You must consider the Indians lost nothing but their life; you must lose your fair houses and cattle.60

The attacks on the Eames household and Medfield occurred in the same month, February, when Boston exploded in anger against Gookin for master- minding the Kattenanit/Quannapohit spy mission. We cannot know if people were aware of Kattenanit’s familial relationship with men who had been “with” the enemy, but the hostility directed first toward Kattenanit, and then Tuckapawillin, when his party of refugees was housed for that horrifying night in Marlborough, was profound.61 Gookin’s omission of the Harvard-educated James Printer, a linguist and typesetter, from his narrative seems particularly telling.62 He knew that Printer was one of the defendants in the case against the Okommakamesit Indians, and yet, within the pages of Doings and Sufferings, he does not mention him, though certainly he must have had Printer in mind when describing how those wrongly accused of murder in the fall of 1675 persuaded Christian Indians at Hassanamesit to take their chances and go away with enemy Indians. Gookin must also have had a fairly good idea as to who left the chilling note behind after the attack on Medfield, yet he does not specu- late on its authorship, reproducing the note in full only to dismiss it as an example of the “pride and insolence of these barbarians at this time.”63 Nei- ther the activities of Printer, nor the relationship between Kattenanit, Tuck- apawillin, Printer and Anaweakin, would have played well with any of his projected audiences.64 When Gookin did cover praying Indians who switched sides and joined the enemy, he arranged the narrative in such a way as to mitigate the impact of Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 19 their stories. The Petavits or Petuhanits, Joseph and Sampson, who had helped Edward Hutchinson to escape the deadly ambush near Quabaug, for example, later “fell off to the enemy” after being taken with the Hassanamesit group. Gookin left them out of the discussion of the Hassanamesit episode, and men- tioned their names only in conjunction with the ambush, where he allows that their decision came because of the “harsh dealings of some English” and their being “in a manner constrained, for want of shelter, protection, and encour- agement.” This way, the Petavits’ unfortunate choices came as a brief postscript to the main heroic action. In his role as magistrate during King Philip’s War, Gookin probably spoke in the way he wrote, blurring certain inconvenient truths, and thereby appear- ing weak and naïve to those who said, in gender-charged terms, that he had become a “Byword both among Men and Boys.” Gookin’s faith in praying Indians came because he knew many of them on a personal level, understood the multiple pressures weighing on them, and was willing – within a certain limited scope – to make allowances for that. He also realized that praying Indians’ understanding of indigenous fighting methods, familiarity with terrain, and the very ties to relatives within enemy camps – which seemed so damn- ing – could be useful to the English when spies or go-betweens were needed. No good could have come from advertising these types of ties, Gookin knew when he wrote his narrative. Neither of his audiences – the local colonists who lived under policies he shaped as magistrate, or the anticipated publishers and readers of Doings and Sufferings – would appreciate gray areas.

“It Being Not My Design to Write of the Doings and Sufferings of the English” Strikingly, Gookin devoted little space to the sufferings of the English, including the war’s most famous sufferer, Mary Rowlandson, who was taken captive from Lancaster in February, 1676 and endured more than 11 weeks of captivity.65 Gookin discussed the attack on her home primarily in the context of explaining how Lancaster might have been spared if colonists had acted on James Quannapo- hit’s intelligence. He deliberately avoided discussing her experience – other than to describe the key role that praying Indians had played in negotiating her release – “it being not my design to write of the doings and sufferings of the English in this tract, but of the Indians, our friends.” Gookin also called attention to the providential punishments meted out to those who had vilified the praying Indians. He included in Doings and Sufferings the story of Sergeant John Shattock (or Shattuck) of Watertown, who vowed at a tavern in September, 1675, that if the Okommakamesit Indians were acquitted for the Lancaster murders, he would never again serve in the colony’s armed forces; they would have to hang him first. No more than 15 20 General Introduction minutes later, Shattock was drowned in a ferry accident between Charlestown and Boston. Gookin implied that Shattuck was being punished for expressing “displeas- ure and animosity against the poor Christian Indians,” but his fellow colonists would likely have put more emphasis on the harrowing scenes that Shattock had witnessed as a soldier. Earlier in September, Shattock had been serving under Watertown’s Captain Richard Beers, and was sent to evacuate the residents of Northfield, which had been attacked on September 2 by Pocumtuck and Nipmuc Indians under One-Eyed John, or Monoco. Enemies had ambushed the relief column, killing Captain Beers and over half of his soldiers – about 20 in all – and subsequently displayed the heads of some of those who were slain on poles “near the highway.”66 Shattock’s words expressed the rage of militiamen who thought their traditional leaders had lethally misread the intentions of Indians. Another one of the “tremendous dispensations” that Gookin found instruct- ive occurred at Medfield, in February 1676, when Elizabeth Paine Adams met an untimely death on the same day when her husband, Lieutenant Henry Adams, was killed defending the town. Elizabeth was fatally wounded when the gun of the militia captain went off accidentally in a house where she was resting after the attack. Gookin hinted that this dreadful judgment came because her husband was “a person somewhat severe against the praying Indians.”67 Throughout Doings and Sufferings, Gookin speculated on the dire consequences that would befall those who were cruel to praying Indians. He claimed that some who had denounced praying Indians at Okommakamesit as murderers had already been punished by God’s “immediate hand,” while the “back friends” who had manufactured “false informations” against the Natick Indians would similarly find there was a price to pay. Juries who had failed to find perpetrators guilty of the outright murders at Wamesit also came in for scathing criticism.68 And Gookin warned one of the men who had been involved in the burning of elderly Christian Indians in their homes to repent because “God will in due time avenge this innocent blood.”

Suffering and Loss of Property Gookin called attention to the similarity between praying Indian and English losses by emphasizing the theft or destruction of their property. The English, particularly at Natick, had taken “guns, utensils for carts and ploughs, corn and swine, and materials of ironwork belonging to a sawmill,” and oﬀered no restitution. Just because “thieves of the same nation” had plundered colonists of similar items did not make it right, Gookin argued, to steal from praying Indians, who were “honest men” even though they were of the same ethnic stock of attackers. Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 21

Guns, foodstuffs, household and farm implements, and clothing were the items that Gookin most often lists as stolen. The praying Indians accused at Marlborough had their guns confiscated under the pretext that they had been arming themselves to fight the English, and these weapons, though critical not just because of the dangers of war but for hunting, were never returned when the men were found innocent. Samuel Moseley, who was the captain respon- sible for arresting the men at Marlborough, had official permission to plunder the enemy, and he treated praying Indians no differently. When Mosely for- cibly removed 58 praying Indians from Concord, his soldiers, apparently contrary to his instructions in this rare instance, “plundered the poor creatures of their shirts, shoes, dishes, and other such things as they could lay their hands upon.” After they were sent to Deer Island, they were separated from their precious reserves of “corn and other provision,” and had nothing to eat but the clams that island afforded and “some little corn provided at the charge of the honorable Corporation for the Indians, residing in London.” With their possessions “squandered away,” there was little hope for restitution at war’s end. Property was a marker of “civility” that native peoples supposedly lacked. Histories of the war prominently featured lists of the number of houses and other property that the enemy Indians had destroyed in English habitations, not just the killings and captivities.69 Gookin attempted to take a similar tack with the praying Indians by demonstrating that they also had material goods to lose – and ones with important symbolic value. Ticking off the homely goods that were stolen from praying Indians was a way for Gookin to assert their civility, and place their sufferings within the same moral universe as those of the English.70 He must also have seen the war’s economic toll as a direct threat to the progress of the work he had done in the praying towns, which was aimed at inculcating English habits of family governance and work on native peoples. Tuckapawillin rued the loss of his “cattle … plough, cart, chain,” all symbols of English-style agricultural productivity. While thefts of movable goods at the hands of soldiers were rampant, praying Indians often had to abandon their land because of forced internment. Gookin pointed out an incident in which Captain John Gorham of Plymouth and Lieutenant Phineas Upham of Massachusetts were sent to “destroy the enemies’ cornfields” in the Nipmuc country, a tactic that was used to damage the enemy’s war effort by limiting their food supply.71 Instead of despoiling the fields of enemies, however, Gorham and Upham focused their efforts on the more accessible praying Indian towns of Hassanamesit, Manchage and Cha- banakongkomun, despite orders to the contrary – a move that did nothing to deprive enemies of their food supply.72 Gookin bemoaned too the way that the war whittled away at Christian Indians’ rights to land that the General Court had laid out for their use, having come to see that land hunger, not just fear, drove colonists to acts of cruelty 22 General Introduction against the praying Indians. In Marlborough, for example, Gookin had enter- tained hopes prior to the war that the New England Company might fund a school where praying Indian and English children alike could hear lessons, but the war taught him that that ordinary people were more interested in taking over praying Indian land than cooperating with them in town develop- ment, particularly when the English pulled up the “fencing stuff” and issued threats against praying Indians who tried to return home and plant there after the war.73

Breaking the Ice “by Their First Adventuring to Treat with the Enemy” The tide of war turned in favor of the English after Philip failed to gain an alliance with the Mohawks, who instead allied with the New York governor Edmund Andros and began attacking Philip and sending raiding parties against New England’s Algonquians, whom they had long regarded as enemies. With this failure, Philip’s alliance with other native peoples – all of whom had different reasons to take up arms from the outset – began to break down. The death of the Narragansett leader Canonchet, together with food shortages, sapped morale.74 Within this context, many native peoples tentatively began to explore various avenues toward peace, sometimes articulating the hope that praying Indians might ease the process. Negotiating the release of English captives bulked large in native efforts at peacemaking, and Gookin, in Doings and Sufferings, emphasizes the key role that Christian Indians Tom Dublet and Peter Conway played as the initial go- betweens in the “redemption” of captive Mary Rowlandson. Gookin argued that the success of this mission, once Nipmuc leaders finally sealed the deal with the English lawyer (and workhouse keeper) John Hoar, caused a rift among the Indian groups allied against the English.75 Philip and the Narragansett leaders became angry and returned to their own country, he says, because they were “utterly against treating with the English,” while “some other of their principle sachems”–the Nipmucs – took heart in the negotiations and wanted to reconcile, believing that the release of captives would “mollify the Englishmen’s minds in order to a peace.” Making all this possible were brave Christian Indians, who had “broke the ice … by their first adventuring to treat with the enemy.” Gookin did not consider the motives that praying Indians themselves may have had, aside from their dedication to the English cause, for wishing peace to return to the region. Tom Dublet, for example, continued working with English negotiators willing to consider talks with Nipmuc leaders about peace long after his work on the Rowlandson exchange was over.76 Because they had friends and relations on both sides, many praying Indians would have wanted a return to peace to ensure the safety of loved ones and, often, fellow Christians.77 Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 23

For the purposes of his narrative, Gookin wanted readers to understand the praying Indians as “our” Indians, their selfless actions reflecting nothing more than a single-minded devotion to true religion and the English cause, as if those two things were ineluctably linked. Still, the stories he told in his narrative provided, unintentionally, a window into the complexity of people’s motives in war, and the fluidity of religious and ethnic identity.

“After Our Indians Went Out, the Balance Turned of the English Side” In recounting the events of the spring and summer of 1676, Gookin chose to focus on incidents that pointed toward hope for the future, even though its rays were dim; praying Indians had been vindicated at least in their role as soldiers, and he provides examples of Christian Indian scouts beginning to serve under English commanders in expeditions to current-day Maine, where war with the Wabanakis continued to rage.78 The turning point came in April, when a company of 40 praying Indians was recruited from Deer Island and placed under the command of Samuel Hunting and James Richardson. This unit went to Sudbury in the aftermath of an attack and guarded those who went out to bury the English dead, aservicethat“had the effect” of reducing the “former hatred,” according to Gookin.79 But all was not well. Gookin barely covered the months of June and July, because it was in those months that the number of praying Indians present in groups of combatants wishing to surrender became evident. Gookin, who had lost his position as magistrate in May, concurred that some of these should be treated harshly. He presided, for example, over a committee that reduced 32 praying Indian children to servitude in English homes because they were present in a group that surrendered in July with Sagamore John (Horowannit, or Quaqun- quasit) of Pakachoog in July.80 Gookin himself gained two servants in this way.81 But he also recognized the prejudice that made it difficult for praying Indians thought to have been disloyal to the English to get a fair trial under the law. On June 22, 1676, Massachusetts executed Captain Tom, or Wuttasacompo- nom, for fighting on the side of the enemy at the attack on Sudbury – averdict with which neither Gookin nor Eliot agreed. The powerful testimony of English veterans sealed Captain Tom’s fate, but there was much evidence to suggest that Captain Tom was innocent, and his friends who had become leaders among the praying Indian scouts – Andrew Pitimee, James Quannapohit, Job Kattenanit, John Magus, and James Speen – attempted in vain to plead for his life, as did John Eliot, who responded to Leverett’s dismissal of Captain Tom as a “bad … man” with a bold rejoinder: “at the great day he should find that Christ was of another mind.”82 In Doings and Sufferings, Gookin does not cover Captain Tom’s execution where it should have gone chronologically in the text – a sharp contrast to the 24 General Introduction in-depth coverage of the trial and acquittal in September, 1675 of the Indians from Okommakamesit, which had at least cleared the accused praying Indians. The outcome of the Captain Tom trial militated against the idea that colonists would think better of praying Indians once their scouts joined the war effort. In Doings and Sufferings, Gookin includes Captain Tom’s execution only as a postscript to a discussion of his role in encouraging praying Indians to leave Hassanamesit in November, 1675, and follow armed Nipmucs to Menemesit. While he concedes that Captain Tom “should rather have suffered death” than abscond with the “wicked” Indians, he emphasizes the pressures that led praying Indians to make this decision, and insists that Captain Tom would never have done violence to the English: “I had particular acquaintance with him, and cannot in charity think otherwise concerning him in his life, or at his death.” Gookin could not explore the Captain Tom case in any detail at the point within the narrative where it occurred, the summer of 1676, because it contra- dicted the overall story that he wanted to tell – that colonists were mending their ways in relation to the praying Indians, and that they were living up to the providential requirements to win the war. Massachusetts authorities benefited from the work of praying Indian guides and soldiers, but they would not take their word in court. James Quannapohit gave convincing testimony concerning Captain Tom’s character as a man who had suffered for his faith among the enemy, describing him as a captive not a traitor. He also presented evidence that he had gained in the field as to Captain Tom’s innocence, but this left the magistrates unmoved.83 A petition that Quannapohit signed along with other praying Indian military leaders, including Kattenanit, illustrated the praying Indians’ frustration at their word meaning nothing to people they were trying to help: “If we did think, or had any ground to conceive that they were naught, and were enemies to the English, we would not intercede for them [Captain Tom and his family] but rather bear our testimony against them.” Although magistrates rejected the plea on Captain Tom’s behalf, they did spare his son and other family members, and agreed to be “ready to show favour in sparing the lives and liberty” of others “that have been our enemyes” if they would present themselves and submit to the authority of the “English Government and your disposal” within 14 days.84 James Printer, the brother of Job Kattenant, was able to surrender and avoid prosecution as a result of this provision, although all who responded to the news that they would be able to enjoy their lives and liberty were not so lucky.85Surrendering was dangerous because the Eng- lish colonists did not recognize the sovereignty of native peoples, considering those who took up arms against them as rebels, not bona fide belligerents who might expect some rights according to the just war tradition.86 Those who could be shown to have killed colonists or destroyed property were held accountable and punished severely, especially because the English believed that Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 25 those harmed during war had a right to retaliate and seek revenge or compensation for the harms done to them.87 Gookin, in his military role, regularly sent out orders to praying Indian scouts to round up all found in enemy camps, not pausing to reflect on the angst that this would have caused praying Indians who were required to bring misery, in some cases, on people they knew.88 His disagreement with how Massachusetts authorities had treated Captain Tom, as exemplified by his com- ments in Doings and Sufferings, suggests that Gookin was aware of how praying Indians continued to suffer through the war’s aftermath. But to expand on such a perspective would not serve the ends he was trying to achieve in his narrative, and thus Gookin jumps very quickly from May to August, when Philip was killed in Plymouth, allowing him to skip over the grim events of the summer. The presence of Indians like Captain Tom – who had gone away from Hassanamesit with enemies in the previous fall, along with James Printer, the Petavits, and the families of the praying Indian children who came in with Sagamore John – complicated his efforts to present these unfortunates as captives, or to tell a tale that exonerated, in binary fashion, praying Indians as a group.

Not Much of a “jubilee” The one bright spot in May was when Gookin received permission to bring the Christian Indians who had been confined on the harbor islands back to the mainland. Gookin and Eliot then began to hold lectures and court days again in “Nonatum, at Packemit or Punkapog, at Cowate alias the fall of Charles river, at Natick, at Medfield, at Concord, and at Namkeake, near Chelms- ford,” where praying Indians attempted to resume their lives. Still, even though Gookin said they experienced liberation from the islands as a “jubilee,” he knew that violence and greater instability remained the praying Indians’ lot in life during the postwar period. They continued to suffer raids at the hands of hostile Mohawks, and colonists bridled at the idea of living close to praying towns, fearing even the presence of Indian servants in their midst.89 In describing the vicious murder of six Christian Indian women and children in August 1676, all Gookin could say was that some measure of justice had been done: all four assailants were convicted of murder, and two were executed.90 Popular narratives and histories of the war from the era did not recognize the immense sacrifices that praying Indians made on behalf of the English. William Hubbard argued that they had only helped out of self-interest, assert- ing that their “natural Perfidiousness” extended “even to their nearest Rela- tions,” and that native peoples were not yet civilized enough for Christianity to take root.91 Mary Rowlandson, meanwhile, in her captivity narrative – published in 1682 – insisted adamantly that praying Indians were nothing but 26 General Introduction deceitful tricksters.92 She numbered them among the war’s worst aggressors and claimed that some of these impostors had eluded prosecution for their war crimes.93 In this context, Gookin’s willingness to equate English and Indian captivities truly stands out, given that Indians were understood to be the inflictors of pain, and not the sufferers – the captors, and not the captives. Referring to what happened at Hassanamesit, Gookin writes that “some of them [praying Indians] were captivated by the enemy and escaped with their lives, (so, many of the English that were taken captive also did).” In the dominant literature, however, where suffering provided an avenue toward gaining a special chosen status, that avenue was closed to praying Indians. Gookin was left to end his narrative with his own tired and discouraging response to speeches given by the Christian Indians Waban and Piambow, who said that their survival during the war had depended on the charity of the New England Company, which had sent funding for food when they were confined on the islands; the military success of praying Indian soldiers, who had finally been able to prove the Christian Indian community’s “fidelity” to the English; and, of course, God, who had moved Massachusetts leaders to allow Christian Indians to help them. Yet, despite all this service, Waban con- cluded sadly, “some English were still willing to speak the contrary of them.” Survival, perhaps, was all that could be expected. Gookin could only reply that during his life on earth Christ, though “most innocent,” had also suffered many reproaches. Regretfully, he predicted that the same would be true for the praying Indians, whom he characterized as “martyrs.” They must wait for God, in his good time, to “bring a good issue in the end.”

Taking Stock Gookin sent Doings and Sufferings to the New England Company in England and dedicated it to Robert Boyle, the organization’s president, hoping for publication, but it did not appear in print until 1836, when the early nineteenth century historian Jared Sparks borrowed the manuscript owned by an English clergyman and transcribed it.94 The harsh tone of the piece, with its charge that Satan had infected the minds of those who had abused praying Indians, may have struck a discordant note with transatlantic friends of the Bay Colony who wished to put the colony in the best light possible.95 At home, where Gookin’s stance on praying Indians during the war had offended colonists and certain magistrates alike, the tract’s depiction of some Englishmen as aggressors would have been unacceptable.96 Gookin gives readers the impression in Doings and Sufferings that the acceptance of Christian Indians as scouts held out hope for a better day. But while a number of military officers provided attestations – published in the narrative – Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 27 as to the loyalty and effectiveness of their praying Indian soldiers, Gookin was aware of tensions. Richard Waldron, who relied on praying Indian soldiers in New Hampshire in the years after Philip’s death, complained that Peter Eph- raim, a praying Indian who had previously carried out scouting expeditions in southern New England for Gookin, was a troublemaker who inspired others to complain about the food they were given and the requirement that they perform such tasks as cutting brush. Ephraim could not have been the only praying Indian to notice that Englishmen made excessive demands for unequal rewards.97 Eliot was less sanguine than Gookin about the long-term effects of military service on the praying Indian population. He even expressed the wish in his church records that he himself had taken the initiative to write about their experiences during the war.98 Whether Eliot thought he might have fared better in promoting – in a more circumspect way – the value of missionary work among the religious and political figures in England who had supported his work in the past, is unclear. But Eliot was worried that praying towns and missionary impulses alike might become a casualty of the war.99 Fraternization with English militiamen was far from uplifting in Eliot’s estimation, because it led to drinking and debauchery: “Satan improved this opportunity to defile, debase, and bring into contempt the whole work of praying to God.”100 As Eliot saw it, Christian Indians had picked up the bad habits of fellow soldiers and were becoming “defiled” through their contact with the profane elements of society – which, for him, included English soldiers.101 The sustained employment of Indian men as scouts had a tendency to under- mine, Eliot likely noticed, one of the key goals of missionary work: to make Indians into productive English-style householders who planted while their wives busied themselves with spinning, cultivating small vegetable gardens, tending to their children and other domestic tasks. A bi-employment that emphasized sea- sonal absences – just the type of semi-sedentariness that missionaries had always criticized – could easily be seen to subvert “civilization.”102 Nor was such service a path to equality within the Bay Colony. Although colonists were willing to extract from Indians the traits they found valuable – such as adeptness at forest warfare – they failed to see praying Indians as fellow Christians with lives and families in peaceful villages, not just war camps; and indeed, Gookin said very little about women as “doers” in his narrative. Mili- tary service may have allowed men to perform skills in line with the traditional male role in indigenous cultures, but this had the potential to make Indian military services into a commodity.103 Gookin should not be understood as some sort of multicultural hero. He had nothing but contempt for Indians who did not accept the tutelage of the English, viewing them as violent “savages” who needed to be vanquished – as also did Eliot.104 Particularly deserving of divine wrath, in his estimation, were 28 General Introduction the Wampanoags and Narragansetts, because these native peoples had been offered the gospel but rejected it (see also p.45 of this volume):

And notwithstanding they were very conversant among the English, especially the Narragansetts, and commendable for their industry and labor among the English, yet had the most of them no hearing ears unto the glad tidings of salvation oﬀered in the Gospel, and very few of them delighted in commu- nion with the Christian Indians. (Gookin, Doings and Suﬀerings,439.)

Gookin’s vision was not an all-inclusive one, but he wished for colonists to differentiate among Indians, and to appreciate those Indians who emulated English ways and followed their direction. In entertaining a vision whereby the English would uplift native peoples and incorporate them into English Puritan society, Gookin ran up against a colonial populace that had begun to characterize people more by ethnicity, or “race,” than religion. They were hungry for land, not contacts with native people. When the war and its attendant atrocities came, their convic- tion that all Indians were different from them – and treacherous – floated quickly to the surface.105 Gookin perceived all this as an irrational outburst, induced by Satan. If howling mobs had defied the wishes of magistrates during the war, and an uncouth pirate had become a military hero, this, he seemed to hope, would all be rectified and things set to right at the close of hostilities. But few wanted to hear Gookin’s message. The English Puritans of his gen- eration set to work constructing a memory of King Philip’s war replete with English suffering, English civility, English redemption, and undifferentiated Indian savagery.106 The long-term postwar trend was to reduce as many native peoples as possible into servitude, often by taking advantage of their indebted- ness – a process that made it difficult for Indians to maintain familial ties and keep indigenous languages alive. It was not until the early nineteenth century, when the idea of the “noble savage” came into vogue, and reformers protested the Indian removals in national politics, that the world was ready for Gookin’s story.107 Today, his account provides raw material for historians wishing to reconstruct, in some small way, a native perspective on King Philip’s War in the absence of any narrative written by an Indian author. While Gookin’s reputation was tarnished because of his support for praying Indians during King Philip’s War, he quickly regained it in the 1680s as a defender of the Massachusetts liberties, particularly after English authorities revoked the Massachusetts charter in 1684, citing – among other things – the colony’s inability to govern, or even defend itself, in the recent war.108 Largely because of his impassioned efforts to preserve colonial rights as much as possible, Gookin was elected again to the Court of Assistants – his status as Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 29 magistrate restored – and was elevated to the rank of major general of the colony’s military forces. When he died in 1687, Gookin was in good repute. At least one magistrate, Samuel Sewall, longed so much to hear Gookin’s voice again that he had a dream about him:

Last night I dreamed of military matters, Arms and Captains, and of a suddain, Major Gookin, very well clad from head to foot, and of a very fresh, lively countenance – his Coat and Breeches, of blood-red silk, beckoned me out of the room where I was to speak to him.109

A champion of chartered liberties who speculated in print as to whether Indian conversions would spark the millennium, Sewall had interests similar to those of Gookin.110 If Sewall’s dream indicated an aspiration to follow in Goo- kin’s footsteps and have his blessing, then Gookin’s legacy as an esteemed figure in Bay Colony history would appear to have been assured.111 For James Quannapohit and other praying Indians, the threat of charter loss had a different impact. In 1685, Quannapohit and the many heirs of George Rumney Marsh, also known as Wenepoykin, Sagamore George, or George No-Nose – son of the great “Squaw Sachem” who had controlled vast amounts of land in the early seventeenth century – were asked to confirm the transfer of their ancestral lands to the Massachusetts towns that now inhabited them. Massachusetts leaders wanted to create or confirm land deeds in this era because they feared crown representatives would try to take their land.112 We cannot know what thoughts might have been running through the mind of Quannapohit on the day when the deed was recorded, but the process must have reminded him of all he had lost in the service of the English. At least his uncle had not died a slave.113 Old George Rumney Marsh, the original owner of the property being deeded, had been sold as a captive to Barbados during the war but had somehow been redeemed so that he was able to live out his last days and die in the home of his nephew, James Quannapohit, in 1681. Christianity continued to be a vibrant part of praying Indian life after King Philip’s War, but the expectation of missionaries such as Eliot and Gookin that conversion might be a pathway toward full householder status for Christian Indians and incorporation into Bay Colony society – even at its lower rungs – was harshly rebuked.114 It is impossible to say exactly when colonists had moved from categorizing people on the basis of culture or religion and begun to differentiate the “other” on the basis of an inchoate sense of “race,” but those sentiments sprang readily to the fore during the war.115 Gookin’s Doings and Sufferings might be read as a barometer of how quickly the change took place, with Gookin seeming to have held out the hope that a treatise on what Christian Indians had contributed and suffered during the war might in some way reset the clock. 30 General Introduction

Notes 1 Richard W. Cogley, “A Seventeenth-Century Native American Family: William of Sudbury and His Four Sons,” The New England Historical and Genealogical Regis- ter 153 (April, 1999), 173–179. Contemporary Daniel Gookin, however, indicates that Kattenanit’s father was Naoas, not William of Sudbury. 2 Frederick W. Gookin, Daniel Gookin, 1612–1687, Assistant and Major General of the Massachusetts Bay Colony (New York, Chicago, IL: Donnelly, 1912); Hans Galinsky, “‘I Cannot Join with the Multitude’–Daniel Gookin (1612-1687), Critical Historian of Indian-English Relations,” Mythos und Aufklarung in der Amer- ikanischer Literatur/Myth and Enlightenment in American Literature, ed. Dieter Meindl and Friedrich W. Horlacher (Erlangen: Erlanger Forschungen, 1985); J. Patrick Cesarini, “‘What Has Become of Your Praying to God?’: Daniel Gookin’s Troubled History of King Philip’s War,” Early American Literature 44 (2009): 489–515; J. Wingate Thornton, “The Gookin Family,” New England Historical and Genealogical Register I (1847): 345–352; and Kristina Bross, Dry Bones and Indian Sermons: Praying Indians in Colonial America (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2004). 3 SC1/series 45X. Massachusetts Archives Collection 30: 193a. 4 On the vast outpouring of writings about King Philip’s war see Jill Lepore, The Name of War: King Philip’s War and the Origins of American Identity (New York: Vintage, 1999). Daniel Gookin, “An Historical Account of the Doings and Suffer- ings of the Christian Indians in New England in the Years 1675, 1676, 1677,” Archaeologia Americana: Transactions and Collections of the American Antiquarian Society, 2 (Cambridge, 1836), 423–523. 5 On providentialism see Michael P. Winship, Seers of God: Puritan Providentialism in the Restoration and Early Enlightenment (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000). 6 On the centrality of shared suffering see Lepore, Name of War; and Susan Juster, Sacred Violence in Early America (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016). 7 Lisa Brooks, Our Beloved Kin: A New History of King Philip’s War (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2018). 8Jeffrey Glover, “Christian Indians at War: Evangelism and Military Communica- tion in the Anglo-French-Native Borderlands,” in Colonial Mediascapes: Sensory Worlds of the Early Americas, ed. Matt Cohen and Jeffrey Glover (Lincoln: Univer- sity of Nebraska Press, 2014), 357–375. 9 On these transformations see Daniel K. Richter, Facing East from Indian Country: A Native History of Early America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003): and James D. Drake, King Philip’s War: Civil War in New England, 1675–1676 (Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press, 2000). 10 Neal Salisbury, Manitou and Providence: Indians, Europeans and the Making of New England, 1500–1643 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1984). 11 Virginia DeJohn Anderson, “King Philip’s Herds: Indians, Colonists and the Prob- lem of Livestock in Early New England,” William and Mary Quarterly 51 (1994), 601–624. 12 Jenny Hale Pulsipher, “‘Subjects … Unto the Same King:’ New England Indians and the Use of Royal Political Power,” Massachusetts Historical Review 5 (2003): 29–57. 13 Jenny Hale Pulsipher, Subjects Unto the Same King: Indians, English and the Con- test For Authority in Colonial New England (Philadelphia, PA: University of Penn- sylvania Press, 2014), 101–118; Brooks, Beloved Kin, 138–139; Yasuhide Kawashima, Igniting King Philip’s War: The John Sassamon Murder Trial Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 31

(Lawrence, KS.: University Press of Kansas, 2001); Jill Lepore, “Dead Men Tell No Tales: John Sassamon and the Fatal Consequences of Literacy,” American Quarterly 46 (1994), 479–512; and Daniel R. Mandell, King Philip’sWar: Colo- nial Expansion, Native Resistance, and the End of Indian Sovereignty (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins Press, 2010). 14 Mandell, King Philip’s War,32–59. 15 Michael Leroy Oberg, Uncas: First of the Mohegans (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2003). 16 Pulsipher, Subjects unto the Same King, 101–117; Mandell, King Philip’s War, 60–71; and Brooks, Our Beloved Kin. 17 Pulsipher, “Subjects … Unto the Same King.” 18 Richard W. Cogley, John Eliot’s Mission to the Indians Before King Philip’s War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999). 19 James P. Ronda, “‘We are Well as We Are’: An Indian Critique of Seventeenth- Century Missions,” William and Mary Quarterly 34 (1977): 66–82; James P. Ronda, “Generations of Faith: The Christian Indians of Martha’s Vineyard,” William and Mary Quarterly 38 (1981): 369–384; Neal Salisbury, “‘Red Puritans’: the ‘Praying Indians’ of Massachusetts Bay and John Eliot,” William and Mary Quarterly 31 (1974): 27–54; William S. Simmons, “Conversion from Indian to Puritan,” New England Quarterly 52 (1979): 197–218; Robert J. Naeher, “Dialogue in the Wilderness: John Eliot and the Indian Exploration of Puritanism as a Source of Meaning, Comfort, and Ethnic Survival,” New England Quarterly 62 (1989), 346–368; Harold W. Van Lonkhuyzen, “A Reappraisal of the Praying Indians: Acculturation, Conversion and Identity at Natick, Massachusetts, 1646–1730,” New England Quarterly 63 (1990): 396–428; Elise M. Brenner, “To Pray or To Be Prey, That is the Question: Strategies for Cultural Autonomy of Massachusetts Praying Town Indians,” Ethnohistory 27 (1980): 135–152; and Bross, Dry Bones and Indian Sermons. 20 Ann Marie Plane, Colonial Intimacies: Indian Marriage in Early New England (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2000). 21 Audrey Horning, Ireland in the Virginia Sea: Colonialism in the British Atlantic (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2013), 274–280, 313–315. 22 April Hatﬁeld, Atlantic Virginia: Intercolonial Relations in the Seventeenth Century (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007); and Rachel L. Monroy, On the Trade Winds of Faith: Puritan Networks in the Making of an Atlantic World (PhD diss., University of South Carolina, 2015). 23 Vincent Gookin, The Great Case of Transplantation in Ireland Discussed (London, 1655); Horning, Ireland in the Virginia Sea, 343–344; and Luke Pecoraro, “Mr. Gookin Out of Ireland, Wholly Upon His Own Adventure”: An Archaeological Study of Intercolonial and Translatlantic Connections in the Seventeenth Century (PhD diss., Boston University, 2015). 24 Carla G. Pestana, The English Conquest of Jamaica: Oliver Cromwell’s Bid for Empire (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2017). 25 Bross, Dry Bones and Indian Sermons,12–21. 26 Linda Gregerson,“The Commonwealth of the Word: New England, Old England, and the Praying Indians,” in British Identities and English Renaissance Literature, eds. David J. Baker and Willy Maley (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 178–193; William Kellaway, The New England Company, 1649–1776: Missionary Society to the American Indians (London: Longmans, Green, 1961); J.R. Jacob, “The New England Company, the Royal Society and the Indians,” Social Studies of Sci- ence 5 (1975): 450–455; Nicholas Canny, The Upstart Earl: A Study of the Social and Mental World of Richard Boyle First Earl of Cork (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1982); and Cogley, John Eliot’s Mission. 32 General Introduction

27 Cogley, John Eliot’sMission; Kenneth M. Morrison, “That Art of Coyning Christians: John Eliot and the Praying Indians of Massachusetts,” Ethnohistory 21 (1974), 77–92. 28 Daniel Gookin, “Historical Collections of the Indians in New England,” Massa- chusetts Historical Society Collections 3rd Ser., Vol. I (Boston, MA, 1792), 141–229. 29 Oberg, Uncas; Jason W. Warren, Connecticut Unscathed: Victory in the Great Narra- gansett War, 1675–6 (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 2014); and David J. Silverman, Faith and Boundaries: Colonists, Christianity and Community among the Wampanoag Indians of Martha’s Vineyard, 1600–1871 (New York: Cam- bridge University Press, 2005). 30 Gookin, “Historical Collections,” 193. 31 On the key role that Nesuton played in translating Eliot’s publications in the Mas- sachusett language, see Margaret Connell Szasz, Indian Education in the American Colonies (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1988), 113–118. 32 Dennis A. Connole, The Indians of the Nipmuck Country in Southern New England (Jefferson, NC: Mcfarland, 2001), 159–182; J.H. Temple, History of North Brook- field (North Brookfield, MA: Rand Avery 1887); and Pulsipher, Subjects Unto the Same King, 114–118. A contemporary tract – Thomas Wheeler, A Thankefull Remembrance of God’s Mercy (Cambridge, 1676) – gives no mention to the help of the praying Indians. 33 William Hubbard, A Narrative of the Troubles With the Indians [1677], in Samuel G. Drake, ed., The History of the Indian Wars in New England, 2 vols. (Roxbury, MA., 1865), I: 120. 34 Mandell, King Philip’s War,71–77; Connole, The Indians of the Nipmuck Country, in Southern New England, 159–182; J.H. Temple, History of North Brookfield (North Brookfield, MA, 1887); and Pulsipher, Subjects Unto the Same King, 114–118. 35 Christine M. DeLucia, Memory Lands: King Philip’s War and the Place of Violence in the Northeast (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2018), 48–52. 36 On Moseley’s reputation, see George M. Bodge, Soldiers in King Philip’s War (Leominster, MA: Rockwell and Churchill, 1896), 59–62. 37 [Nathaniel Saltonstall], “The Present State of New England,” in Narratives of the Indian Wars [1675], 1675–1677, ed. Charles H. Lincoln (New York: Scribner, 1952), 40. 38 Ibid., 40–41. 39 Margaret Ellen Newell, Brethren by Nature: New England Indians, Colonists and the Origins of American Slavery (Ithaca: Cornell University Press), 144–145. For the list of verdicts, including that of Great David, who was transported as a slave, see John Noble, Records of the Court of Assistants of Massachusetts Bay, 3 vols. (Boston, MA: Rockwell and Churchill Press, 1901), I: 52–54. 40 Scripture was the husband of Elizabeth Knapp, who had been treated by Samuel Willard for “possession” by a devil several years before her marriage. John Demos, Entertaining Satan: Witchcraft and the Culture of Early New England, Updated Edition (New York: Oxford, 2004), 114. 41 Brooks, Our Beloved Kin, 225–227. 42 Gookin initially blamed Narragansetts and Wampanoags for taking the praying Indians at Hassanamesit. Massachusetts Archives Collection 30: 188. 43 Gookin, Historical Collections, 186. 44 Stewart-Smith, Pennacook Indians, 179. 45 Stewart-Smith, Pennacook Indians,82–83. 46 John Eliot to Robert Boyle, December 17, 1675, in John W. Ford, ed., Some Cor- respondence between the Governors and Treasurers of the New England Company in London and the Commissioners of the United Colonies in America The Missionaries of the Company and Others (London: Spottiswoode and Co., 1896), 54. 47 Massachusetts Archives Collection 30: 190; and Wilson Waters, History of Chelms- ford, Massachusetts (Lowell, MA, Courier-Citizen Company, 1917), 108–109. Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 33

48 Massachusetts Archives Collection 30: 186. 49 Massachusetts Archives Collection 30: 191. The Wamesits’ fears of sabotage by Indians at war with the English were not unfounded. Mandell, King Philip’s War, 46, reports an incident early in the war in which King Philip had sent a message to the female sachem Awashonks that if she did not stand with him, he would send warriors to loot settlements close to her lands so that the English would blame her people and punish or attack them. 50 David Stewart-Smith, “The Pennacook Indians and the New England Frontier, Circa 1604-1733” (Ph.D. diss., The Union Institute, 1998), 186–193. 51 Ibid. 216–217. On the cultural meaning of the Tyng family’s ownership of the former Wamesit lands, and the process by which the land was “culturally con- structed into an English artifact,” see Christa M. Beranek, “Ethnicity, Masculinity and Lineage: The Cultural Biography of a Colonial Massachusetts Parcel of Land,” Historical Archaeology 46 (2012), 75–90. 52 Massachusetts Archives Collection 30: 192, 193, and 193a; 68: 136; and Jill Lepore, “When Deer Island Was Turned into Devils Island,” in Strangers in Our Land: The Invasion of Native New England, https://nativenewengland.wordpress.com/2016/03/ 30/when-deer-island-was-turned-into-devils-island/. 53 Interestingly Savage’s son, Perez, served as an officer under Moseley’s command at the Great Swamp Fight. Lawrence Park, Major Thomas Savage of Boston and His Descendants (Boston, MA: D. Clapp and Son, 1914), 6–7. 54 Massachusetts Archives Collection 30:200; Brooks, Beloved Kin, 289–290, points out that this detachment was probably deliberately sent out to find the refugees, whereas Gookin – at least as far as his narrative was concerned – thought Gibbs’ encounter with the group was serendipitous. 55 Massachusetts Archives Collection, 30: 185A. 56 Mark G. Hanna, Pirate Nests and the Rise of the British Empire, 1570–1740 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2015), 158; Samuel Moseley to John Leverett, October 16, 1675, in George M. Bodge, Soldiers in King Philip’s War (Leominster, MA: Rockwell and Churchill, 1896), 69. 57 Nathaniel B. Shurtleff, ed., Records of the Governor and Company of the Massachusetts Bay in New England, 5 vols. in 6 (Boston: William White, 1853-1854), V: 71. 58 Kyle F. Zelner, A Rabble in Arms: Massachusetts Towns and Militiamen During King Philip’s War (New York: New York University Press, 2009). On Gookin’sdiffi- culties in calling forth troops, see Massachusetts Archives Collection 68:247a. 59 Eric B. Schultz and Michael J. Tougias, King Philip’s War: The History and Legacy of America’s Forgotten Conflict (Woodstock, VT: Countryman Press, 1999), 185; and J.H. Temple, History of Framingham (Framingham, MA, 1887), 71–79. 60 Schultz and Tougias, King Philip’sWar,194–199; Siobhan Senier, Dawnland Voices: An Anthology of Indigenous Writing from New England (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2014), 374; and Drew Lopenzina, Red Ink: Native Americans Picking up the Pen in the Colonial Period (Albany, NY: State University of New York, 2012), 178. 61 Brooks, Our Beloved Kin, 247, points out that Kattenanit did not mention his brother’s involvement in the sack of the Eames house to Gookin. 62 Lopenzina, Red Ink,87–134. 63 Lepore, Name of War,94–96. 64 Eliot to Boyle, September 6, 1669, Some Correspondence, 29, clearly delineates the relationship between the four brothers. 65 Neal Salisbury, ed., The Sovereignty and Goodness of God by Mary Rowlandson with Related Documents (New York: Bedford/St. Martins, 1997). 66 Hubbard, A Narrative of the Troubles with the Indians in New England, I: 111; and Schulz and Tougias, King Philip’s War, 163–164. 34 General Introduction

67 Schulz and Tougias, King Philip’s War, 198; Hubbard, Narrative of the Troubles,I: 170, says simply that Adams’ wife was “mortally wounded by a Gun fired after- wards accidentally in the House.” 68 The men were found guilty only of wounding the Indians at Wamesit. Noble, Court of Assistants Records, I: 57. 69 Lepore, Name of War,71–96, emphasizes the importance of property to English colonial identity, and the extensive accounts of property destruction found in wartime narratives. 70 On the importance of English clothing as a mark of distinction between the “savage” and Christian Indians see Bross, Dry Bones and Indian Sermons 24–5. For evidence of discomfiture at the sight of Indians in English clothing see Ann Little, “‘Shoot That Rogue, for He Hath an Englishman’s Coat On!’: Cultural Cross- Dressing on the New England Frontier, 1620–1760,” The New England Quarterly, 74 (June, 2001): 238–273. 71 On “feed fights” see Wayne E. Lee, Barbarians and Brothers: Anglo-American War- fare, 1500–1865 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 222. 72 Bodge, Soldiers, 287–289. 73 Gookin, Historical Collections, 185–186, 219–221; and Cogley, John Eliot’s Mission, 143–146. 74 Mandell, King Philip’s War, 107–11; Daniel K. Richter, “Cultural Brokers and Intercultural Politics: New York-Iroquois Relations, 1664–1701,” Journal of Ameri- can History 75 (1988): 40–67; and David J. Silverman, Thundersticks: Firearms and the Violent Transformation of Native America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2016), 91–120. 75 Neal Salisbury, ed., Sovereignty and Goodness of God, 33; Lepore, Name of War, 145–146; and Hilary E. Wyss, Writing Indians: Literacy, Christianity and Native Community in Early America (Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press, 2000), 38–50. 76 Connole, Indians of the Nipmuck Country, 203–204; and Henry Nourse, ed., The Early Records of Lancaster, Massachusetts, 1643–1725 (Lancaster: W.J. Coulter, 1884), 112–114. 77 Connole, Indians of the Nipmuck Country, 204–205; Brooks, Our Beloved Kin, 309. 78 Jenny Hale Pulsipher, “‘Dark Cloud Rising from the East’: Indian Sovereignty and the Coming of King William’s War in New England,” New England Quarterly 80 (2007): 588–613; Kenneth Morrison, The Embattled Northeast: The Elusive Ideal of Alliance in Abenaki-Euroamerican Relations (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1984). 79 On the Sudbury Fight see Eric B. Schulz and Michael J. Tougias, King Philip’s War: the History and Legacy of America’s Forgotten Conflict (New York: Norton, 1999), 211–220. Being able to bury the dead meant protecting the corpses from the possible defilement. See, for example, Susan Juster, Sacred Violence in Early America (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016); and Robert E. Cray, Jr., “‘Weltering in their Own Blood’: Puritan Casualties in King Philip’s War,” Historical Journal of Massachusetts 37 (2009): 107–123. 80 Connole, The Indians of the Nipmuck Country, 208–210. 81 “Indian Children Put to Service. 1676,” New England Historical and Genealogical Register VIII (1854): 270–273. Brooks, Our Beloved Kin, 316–317, points out how this policy was not only punitive but tantamount to holding the children as “hos- tages” to ensure the good behavior of the adults; see also Newell, Brethren By Nature, 165–166. 82 Massachusetts Archives Collection 30:205, 205a, 204b; Brooks, Our Beloved Kin, 310–312; and William B. Trask, ed., “Reverend John Eliot’s Records of the First Introduction to “Doings and Sufferings” 35

Church in Roxbury, Massachusetts,” New England Historical and Genealogical Regis- ter 33 (1879): 413. 83 Massachusetts Archives Collection 30:172. 84 “Documents Illustrating Gookin’s History of the Christian Indians,” in Archaeologia Americana: Transactions and Collections of the American Antiquarian Society 2 (1836), 527–529. 85 Brooks, Our Beloved Kin, 309–312, has pointed out that this “amnesty” came about because of the agitation of Christian Indian scouts, not the charitable feelings of the magistrates. 86 James Drake, “Restraining Atrocity: The Conduct of King Philip’s War,” New England Quarterly 70 (1997): 33–56; and Linford D. Fisher, “‘Why Shall Wee Have Peace To Bee Made Slaves?’: Indian Surrenderers During and After King Philip’s War,” Ethnohistory 64 (2017), 91–114. 87 Wayne Lee, Barbarians and Brothers, 222–223, emphasizes that English soldiers expected to be allowed to retaliate for perceived harms to become “whole” again. 88 Massachusetts Archives Collection 30: 207, 233, 212b, 235b. This angst is a major theme in Brooks, Our Beloved Kin. 89 Neal Salisbury, “Toward the Covenant Chain: Iroquois and Southern New Eng- land Algonquians, 1637–1684,” in Beyond the Covenant Chain: The Iroquois and Their Neighbors in Indian North America, 1600–1800, eds. Daniel K. Richter and James H. Merrell (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1987), 61–73. On the increasing restrictions placed on where Indians in New England could reside, and how they could interact with the English populace, see Jenny Hale Pulsipher, “‘Our Sages Are Sageles,’”431–448. 90 Jenny Hale Pulsipher, “Massacre at Hurtleberry Hill: Christian Indians and English Authority in King Philip’s War,” William and Mary Quarterly 53 (1996): 459–486. 91 Hubbard, Narrative of the Troubles, 2: 276. Interestingly Hubbard, earlier in his narrative, discounts the possibility that non-English Christians, such as the Dutch or French, were guilty of deliberately plotting with the Indian enemies of New England. 92 On Rowlandson see Lepore, Name of War, 148; Kathryn Zabelle Derounian, “The Publication, Promotion, and Distribution of Mary Rowlandson’s Indian Captivity Narrative in the Seventeenth Century,” Early American Literature 23 (1988): 239–261; and Derounian, “Puritan Orthodoxy and the ‘Survivor Syn- drome’ in Mary Rowlandson’s Captivity Narrative,” Early American Literature 22 (1987): 82–93. 93 Salisbury, ed., Sovereignty and Goodness,98–100. 94 David D. Hall, Ways of Writing: The Practice and Politics of Text-Making in Seven- teenth-Century New England (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 17–18. 95 Cesarini, “What Has Become of Your Praying to God?” 96 Massachusetts Archives Collection 68: 247, 250. 97 Letter from Richard Waldron, Cochecha, April 18, 1677, in Nathaniel Bouton, ed., Documents and Records Relating to the Province of New Hampshire, 7 vols. (Con- cord, NH: George E. Jenks, 1867), I: 362–363. For an example of an order from Gookin to Peter Ephraim telling him to seize or kill Indians who would not submit to his unit see Massachusetts Archives Collection 30: 233. 98 William B. Trask, ed., “Reverend John Eliot’s Records of the First Church in Roxbury, Massachusetts,” New England Historical and Genealogical Register 33 (1879): 415. Kathryn N. Gray, John Eliot and the Praying Indians of Massachusetts Bay: Communities and Connections in Puritan New England (Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press, 2013). 99 John Eliot to Robert Boyle, December 17, 1675, in Ford, ed., Some Correspondence between the governors and treasurers of the New England Company, 53. 36 General Introduction

100 Trask, ed., “Eliot’s Records,” 415. 101 For the toll that military service continued to take on native soldiers, who did not receive the same consideration or compensation as their English counterparts, see Brian D. Carroll, “‘Savages’ in the Service of Empire: Native American Soldiers in Gorham’s Rangers, 1744–1762,” New England Quarterly 85(2012): 383–429. 102 Jean M. O’Brien, “‘Divorced’ From the Land: Resistance and Survival of Indian Women in Eighteenth-Century New England,” in Colin G. Calloway, ed., After King Philip’s War: Presence and Persistence in Indian New England (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1997), 144–161; R. Todd Romero, Making War and Minting Christians: Masculinity, Religion and Colonialism in Early New Eng- land (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2011). 103 Mandell, King Philip’s War; Patrick M. Malone, The Skulking Way of War: Technol- ogy and Tactics Among the New England Indians (Lanham, MD: Madison Books, 1991); and Romero, Making War and Minting Christians, 195–197. 104 Richard A. Bailey, Race and Redemption in Puritan New England (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011). 105 On the tentative ways that colonists understood the diﬀerences between themselves and Indians earlier in the century see Karen O. Kupperman, Indians and English: Facing Oﬀ in Early America (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2000). 106 Lepore, Name of War. 107 David J. Silverman, “The Impact of Indentured Servitude on the Society and Cul- ture of Southern New England Indians, 1680-1810,” New England Quarterly 74 (2001), 622–66; Mandell, King Philip’s War. 108 Stephen Saunders Webb, 1676: The End of American Independence (New York: Knopf, 1984); and Richard R. Johnson, Adjustment to Empire: The New England Colonies, 1675–1715 (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1981). 109 Sewall quoted in Gookin, Daniel Gookin, 198. 110 Mukhtar Ali Asani, “The Growth of Sewall’s Phaenomena Quaedam Apocalyp- tica,” Early American Literature 7 (1972): 64–75; George Lyman Kittredge, ed., “Letters of Samuel Lee and Samuel Sewall relating to New England and the Indians,” Publications of the Colonial Society of Massachusetts I4 (I9I2), 142–186; and Nan Goodman, The Puritan Cosmopolis: The Law of Nations and the Early American Imagination (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018), 83–107. Indians from the praying town of Magunkaquog appealed to Sewall to help keep their land safe from a projected sale to Harvard University in 1715; when their request failed, one of the principle opponents of the sale committed suicide by hanging. See Ste- phen A. Mrozowski, Holly Herbster, David Brown and Katherine C. Priddy, “Magunkaquog Materiality, Federal Recognition and the Search for a Deeper His- tory,” International Journal of Historical Archaeology 13 (2009): 434–446. 111 Ann Marie Plane, Dreams and the Invisible World in Colonial New England (Philadel- phia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014), 150–151. 112 Christopher W. Hannan, “Indian Land in Seventeenth-Century Massachusetts,” Historical Journal of Massachusetts 29 (Summer 2001): 1–12; and Stewart-Smith, “Pennacook Indians.” 113 Deloraine Pendre Corey, The History of Malden, Massachusetts (Malden, MA: John Wilson and Son, 1899), 48; Alonzo Lewis and James R. Newhall, History of Lynn (Boston: John L. Shorey, 1865), 51–54; and Sidney Perley, The Indian Land Titles of Essex County Massachusetts (Salem, MA: Essex Book and Print Club, 1912), 10–11. 114 On Christian Indian communities in the eighteenth century see Daniel R. Mandell, Behind the Frontier: Indians in Eighteenth-Century Eastern Massachusetts (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000). 115 On the speed of the changes see Pulsipher, “‘Our Sages Are Sageles,’”; and Drake, King Philip’s War.