1.8: Mary Rowlandson, Chronicler of King Philip's War

Amidst the deadliest per capita conflict in the colonial era, Mary Rowlandson, wife of a prominent minister, was captured by enemy forces in what history has recorded as King Philip's War.  She was moved constantly during her 12-weeks as a prisoner, but her experiences, and strong faith, formed the basis of the book she wrote about her ordeal.  This book even formed the basis of a new literary genre, one in which contrasting cultures were highlighted, but not always understood.  This episode of History: Beyond the Textbook uses Mary's experiences as the context of understanding the destructive nature of King Philip's War, and the consequences that it wrought. 

Key People
Mary Rowlandson, Colonial prisoner-of-war
Metacomet, leader of Indigenous forces during King Philip's War
Weetamoo, leader of Pocasset forces during King Philip's War

Key Event
King Philip's War

The third season of History: Beyond the Textbook focuses on the stories of individuals who shaped "America's Crucial Years" of 1783-1790, and runs from October 8-December 24. Catch up on Season One, "America's Colonial Era," and Season Two, "America's Revolution," wherever you listen to your podcasts!

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Transcript

It was the deadliest per capita conflict in the history of the United States.  Well, the United States wasn’t technically a nation when King Philip’s War occurred, but it is the deadliest war in the history of the land that became the United States when compared to the number of occupants at the time.  Nearly five percent of New England’s English population died during King Philip’s War, but about one quarter of the region’s Indigenous population perished, with some estimates placing the casualty rate as high as 40 percent.  The loss of life was staggering, and the relative peace that the initial settlers of Plymouth had established with Ousamequin and the Wampanoag was completely shattered.  War is a uniquely human behavior in which enemy combatants fight one another, but its effects invariably spill over into the civilian population.  This dynamic accounts for the subject of today’s episode: Mary Rowlandson wasn’t a soldier in this conflict, but she was nevertheless swept up in the scorched earth nature of a war that wrought total ruin on New England for the next generation.  Her story allows us to understand how warfare was shifting British North America, but also how war affects those who are indirect participants.  On today’s episode of History: Beyond the Textbook, we explore Mary Rowlandson, unlikely chronicler of King Philip’s War.

Act One: The Coming Conflict

Today’s story takes us back to Plymouth, and can almost be viewed as a continuation of episode 1.4 on Stephen Hopkins.  Going back to that first contact, recall that Wampanoag leader Ouasmequin attempted to foster positive relations with the English.  The English would certainly not have made it through that first year had they not received Wampanoag assistance in food donations and advice on how to sustain agriculture.  Furthermore, the New England Confederation that formed in the aftermath of the Pequot War one and a half decades later made an agreement with the Wampanoag, a covenant of sorts, which the English interpreted as the Wampanoag taking a subordinate position to their rule.  And the same demonetization of wampum by these colonies in the 1660’s that affected the Mohegans reverberated through the Wampanoag nation, cutting them out of the often-lucrative colonial economy in which they had been key participants for decades.   

In addition to altering the economic makeup structure of colonial New England, the social and spiritual fabric also was undergoing change.  In the early years of Puritan settlement, such as those under John Winthrop, there wasn’t much attention given to the perceived lack of organized religion among their Indigenous neighbors.  There certainly was faith and a spiritual worldview that prevailed among the Algonquin of the region, but it wasn’t anything that the English would recognize, nor was it Christianity.  Reverend John Eliot began to alter this in the late 1640’s when he undertook efforts to convert the Indigenous populace, a task which many English didn’t agree with since they simply wanted the land that these people occupied.  Eliot pressed ahead, believing that convincing his potential converts to settle and live in one fixed place would make their conversion much easier and allow him and other Puritan missionaries to save more souls.  The result of this mission was the establishment of what became known as “praying towns,” called as such because their occupants were Native converts to Christianity.  However, their traditional spiritual beliefs and rituals weren’t the only thing these occupants were expected to give up: in a move that foreshadowed federal government’s assimilation tactics of the 1800’s, English missionaries required the converts to sever any ties with their heritage.  New English names were provided, men had their hair cut because long hair on a man was considered to be “vain,” and they were required to alter the traditional gender roles we learned about in episode 1.6, roles that the Algonquin had followed for generations.  Men labored in the fields, women spun and wove cloth in the home, and the Sabbath was intended for rest.  Given the nature of its founding as a “godly” colony, Massachusetts was the only location where the praying towns took hold, and 14 towns were established by 1674.  Larger tribes such as the Wampanoag, Mohegans, and Narragansetts had zero interest in these places, and even some English could appreciate their desire to maintain their way of life.  Nations that had been decimated by previous conflict viewed these towns as a means by which the could at least maintain their collective identity in one location, and most towns actually were known by Algonquin names.  It appeared to the missionaries who tended to the inhabitants of the praying towns that progress was being made, but there were too many English who harbored ill feelings towards Indigenous peoples, no matter what their outward religious affiliations may be.

The individual whose life had much to do with causing the conflict known as King Philip’s War, and the subsequent capture of Mary Rowlandson, was a Massachusett man (the Indigenous nation, not the colony) who adopted the name John Sassamon.  If Eliot could point to a shining success story of the praying towns, then Sassamon was the embodiment of his plans.  Literate in the English language, Sassamon attended Harvard College and had served as part of Eliot’s mission.  Sassamon ended up serving as interpreter to Wamsutta, the eldest son of Ouasmequin, who moved to Boston in the late 1650’s so that Wamsutta could establish his own leadership.  Between the move and 1660, Ouasmequin died: we’re not exactly sure when or of what, but Wamsutta appeared in front of the Plymouth court in 1660 and referenced his father’s death.  This was a huge blow to relations between the Wampanoag and the English, because although Ouasmequin stated that he hoped his sons Wamsutta and Metacomet would continue to work with the English following his death, the two didn’t have any intention of living up to this expectation.  In that same appearance in 1660, Wamsutta explained that his appearance was due to a requested name change.  He would now be referred to by the Christian name of “Alexander,” and his brother Metacomet would go by the Christian name “Philip.”  Perhaps the commissioners in Plymouth should have taken note: these new names, derived from historic Macedonian conquerors, were symbolic of the conflict that was to come.

Act Two: Kidnapping Mary

Now that we have an understanding of the build-up to this destructive conflict, it’s absolutely worth asking: who is Mary Rowlandson and why are we using her experiences as the lens through which King Philip's War is viewed?  Born in England in 1637, the same year that the Pequot War officially came to a close, Mary White’s parents migrated across the Atlantic two years later and settled on lands surrounding Boston by the time she was a teenager.  When she was 19 or 20, she married Joseph Rowlandson, the first minister of Lancaster, which was considered a “frontier” town in one of these areas where her parents settled.  Mary enjoyed prominent standing in Lancaster as the daughter of wealthier individuals and the wife of its minister, which explains why she was referred to with the respectable title of “Mistress Rowlandson.”  The Rowlandson homestead was one of the largest in Lancaster, and Mary enjoyed the nights when her family and friends would gather to sing, pray, and simply enjoy one another’s company.  This relatively happy, and peaceful, existence was torn apart by the eruption of King Philip’s War in summer 1675, and this prompted Joseph to travel to Boston and seek resources to help defend and protect Lancaster.  Mary was left home with their three children, and the town took defensive measures to prepare for potential attack.  The Rowlandson home, along with five others in town, was reinforced with palisades so that it would potentially be harder for intruders to break in.  It is believed that between 40-50 residents were taking shelter in Rowlandson’s home at any given moment in Rowlandson’s house when war came to Lancaster, and this included two of Mary’s sisters and their families.

Let’s back up momentarily.  War broke out and Mary was about to be captured, but we last left Wampanoag Sachem Philip, for whom this war is named, in Plymouth when he informed commissioners about his name change in 1660.  What about those 15-or so years in the middle in which events occurred that seemingly caused war to break out?  Much of it has to do with the issue that never really went away: land, and who occupied and used it.  The Pequot War, from episode 1.6, already taught us that English settlers desired more farmland for themselves and their children, and they also allowed their domesticated animals to run wild on Indigenous land.  For reasons that are still somewhat unknown, Metacomet and Wamsutta (we will be using these names moving forward) began to sell land as they pleased and sold various tracts of Wampanoag land to Rhode Islanders.  Apparently, this did not sit well with Plymouth authorities, as the borders between the two colonies were still not commonly agreed upon.  Wamsutta was summoned to court to explain his actions, but he ignored the summons and was subsequently arrested; he became violently ill while incarcerated, only for the English to release him.  He died days later and Metacomet blamed it on poisoning at the hands of the English.  This was summer 1662, and it left Metacom as the sole Sachem of the Wampanoag.  His land sales to any and all colonial buyers, regardless of colonial affiliation, continued into the early 1670’s.  However, there appeared to be an ulterior motive: Metacom was using the profits from these sales to stockpile arms and build an alliance of nations, such as the Narragansett, to resist English efforts at land encroachment.  Metacomet tried petitioning the colonial court to take action against these settlers, and his requests were not only ignored, but Native Americans were even banned from Plymouth courts in 1673.  The tipping point appears to have been when John Sassamon, former interpreter for Wamsutta and considered a “Praying Indian,” was found dead in Wampanoag territory.  Plymouth officials that the scene, which looked like an accident, had been staged to appear as such, so three Wampanoag were arrested, tried, convicted, and executed for the supposed crime in summer 1675…by Plymouth authorities.  This was an alleged crime involving Wampanoag on their land, so Plymouth’s intervention was considered a massive breach of Wampanoag sovereignty.  Relations between the two sides had been spiraling downhill for ears, but colonial interference in Wampanoag affairs couldn’t be tolerated, so war was on.      

This was the situation in which Mary Rowlandson was living, and it’s why her husband Joseph traveled to Boston to request reinforcements as the war had been going on for about half a year.  February 10, 1676, was to be a fateful day for Rowlandson as that is when a combined force of Wampanoag, Narragansetts and Nipmuck warriors invaded Lancaster and thrust her directly into the conflict.  Much of what we will explore stems from her widely-read account, so we will certainly utilize it as one of our primary resources.  The attack appears to have been a complete surprise as it began at sunrise: Rowlandson wrote of hearing gunfire outside her palisaded house and looking outside to see multiple homes ablaze.  She describes, in vivid detail, how her house was surrounded, fired upon with the intensity of a violent hailstorm, and then burned to the ground.  Escape was futile since the bullets would immediately target anyone attempting to flee their flaming domiciles, and attempts at hand-to-hand combat didn’t pan out since the enemy was much more skilled in this art.  Mary took a bullet to her side and one of her children was also wounded, while she sadly witnessed the death of her brother-in-law, her nephew William, and her oldest sister.  By her count, of the 37 individuals that were in her house at the outset of the attack, twelve lay dead, and of the remaining 25, there was only one who was not made a prisoner.  Throughout this frighteningly graphic depiction of Mary’s published account of how she came to be a captive, Rowlandson begins to make frequent Biblical references, and this continues throughout her entire narrative.  Her Puritan faith plays a significant role in her perceptions of her captors and is often how her account is viewed, but it will also reveal how these perceptions become somewhat altered during her 12-week ordeal.

Act Three: In the Wilderness

Rowlandson ultimately remained under Indigenous guard until that May, and her narrative is divided into twenty “Removes” to describe this time.  Mary's intense faith remains firm and strong in these initial Removes, and this plays out not only in her continued references to Biblical passages but also in how she initially viewed Metacomet’s forces.  She ended her recollection of the Lancaster raid by referring to them as “ravenous beasts,” began the First Remove by calling them “barbarous creatures,” and ended it by noting the “savageness and brutishness of this barbarous enemy.”  Part of this validates the context of what Rowlandson was physically looking at in the aftermath of the raid:a burned-out home and village, lifeless bodies of her friends and family, and once-treasured livestock that would now nourish the enemy.  The lens through which she and other colonials viewed their Indigenous neighbors was that of barbarism and darkness given the perceived unwillingness of so many to convert to Christianity or adopt European ways and dress.  Remember that the primary combatants in King Philip’s War were the Wampanoag and the Narragansetts, and they vehemently refused to participate in any of New England’s “Praying Towns,” so as the wife of a preacher, Rowlandson would maintain a wary opinion of them that she carried with her in the immediate aftermath of their attack.  She and her fellow captives were moved frequently during this initial week, and her own wounds, as well as those of her six-year old daughter, Sarah, continued to worsen.  On February 18, Sarah succumbed to her wounds and Mary was certainly distraught by this loss.  She notes that of her three children, one was now dead, one was unaccounted for, and her 10-year old daughter, who was also named Mary, was held in the same village as the elder Rowlandson was, but she was unable to see her unsupervised (although her son would soon appear as he was being held about six miles away).  This information is made clear in the lengthy Third Remove, which ends with Rowlandson reading a Bible that was given to her by one of her captors, finding solace in the Scripture and preparing to move yet again.  

What was happening in the war up to this point?  We know that the execution of three Wmapanoag suspected of killing John Sassamon was what set everything off, and over half a year had elapsed by the time Rolwnadson was captured in the Lancaster raid.  The official fighting began in June 1675 when a Wampanoag was killed by two Plymouth colonials when the former was seen in an abandoned house; these two men were then killed along with several others in retaliation.  For nearly three weeks, Metacomet’s men had been preparing for war, and now they unleashed it in full force, hitting multiple settlements that were part of Plymouth colony.  Plymouth was not formally a part of Massachusetts Bay at this time and sought their support; Bay Colony officials were still a bit sore about what they saw as Plymouth’s delayed assistance in the Pequot War, but they relented and understood that the two shared similar interests.  The alliance meant little in these early phases as the Wampanoag, Narragansett, and Nipmack alliance decimated the opposition with any colonial resistance failing miserably.  Two items were at play and allowed Metacomet’s forces to claim victory after victory: the first was related to technology.  European settlers had enjoyed a previous technological edge over their Indigenous counterparts, but trade between the two sides was now so widespread that the playing field was level regarding weapons.  Frontier English settlements did have a shortage of ammunition, while Metacomet’s forces had a sizable cache thanks to all of the profits from those previous land sales.  Contrasting styles of warfare also factored into early Indigenous success as colonial militia still by-and-large attempted to fight in a more conventional European style rather than utilize the hit-and-run tactics of their enemy.  This failure to adapt, or even to acknowledge the advantages of adapting, their style of warfare contributed to why colonial forces were lured into ambushes and unceremoniously cut down time and again.  These two factors also explain why frontier settlements such as Lancaster were considered to be the most at risk.  Two “Praying Indians” who had agreed to spy for the English even provided an advance warning of the attack on Lancaster, which was to serve as the vanguard of several attacks east of the Connecticut River, but help arrived too late.  

This political reality led to the predicament of the 38-year old Mary Rowlandson, a predicament that led to her complete separation from her family and internment at the hands of Metacom’s forces.  One thing that stands out in particular about her captivity is the individual who was said to “own” her: the Narragansett leader Quinnapin, who she refers to as a “Sagamore and married [to] King Philip’s wife’s sister.”  It’s this sister-in-law of Metacomet who grabs our attention, for Weetamoo was once married to Wamsutta, further strengthening the bonds between the Narragansett and Wampanoag.  Her marriage to Wamsutta meant that she was well-respected among the Wampanoag, and this respect remained after Wamsutta’s untimely demise.  Her lineage gave her claim to the title of Sachem of the Pocassets, which is a position that appears to have gone pretty much unchallenged within her tribe.  When hostility appeared to be on the horizon, Englishman Benjamin Church visited Pocasset and, specifically, Wetamoo.  By his account, she was in individual contemplation and had just returned from a visit to Metacom’s village.  She claimed that the Pocasset warriors “were all gone, against her will,” and were mobilizing with Metacom’s men.  It was well-known that Wetamoo nursed the same grudges against settlers for poaching her peoples’ land that Metacom had, and that she was active in building up the Indigenous alliance that was now days away from war.  Church’s belief that Weetamoo didn’t want war probably reflected his prevailing prejudices against women serving as combatants, let alone as the equivalent of a general.  In this same way, Rowlandson’s ideas about the role of women in society influenced her descriptions of Weetamoo’s actions.  Consistently describing her as “mistress” instead of by her formal title, Rowlandson focused on her actions as counter to what she would have expected from a female.  In the “Twelfth Remove,” Mary begins by describing how Weetamoo grabbed the Bible that Mary was reading and “snatched it hastily out of [her] hand and threw it out of the doors.”  She also slapped Mary in the face when the latter complained of how heavy her pack was when it was time to leave.  Rowlandson speaks of her “master” in reference to Quinnapin, even though it appears as though Weetamoo was calling the shots; it speaks volumes that she and other English had such a hard time acknowledging the political acumen and leadership skills of this powerful leader.  At any rate, Rowlandson’s captivity, as well as the war, would continue to drag on.

Act Four: Framing a Narrative

Or would it? How does this story end, one of kidnapping, faith, and the clash of cultures that we have already seen play out in multiple episodes?  We know that Mary Rowlandson’s perceptions of her captors were negative and steeped in prior prejudices.  Mary was moved so many times because the English army, as she referred to them, was seemingly in pursuit, but Weetamoo and her followers were always one step ahead, even though tragedy would strike Rowlandson’s captors as well as herself.  Weetamoo’s child died during Rowlandson’s ordeal, and the latter wrote, “I confess I could not much condole with them.”  Mary had already suffered much, and she clearly did not sympathize with her “mistress.”  The feeling was mutual as, several days later, Weetamoo severely chastised Rowlandson for begging: she entered multiple wigwams in search of food, and this was considered uncouth behavior.  Rowlandson, in her Nineteenth Remove, will eventually acquiesce and refer to Weetamoo as a “severe and proud dame,” so she would recognize the fierceness in the Pocasset Sachem, but those were about the only honors she would bestow upon her mistress.  Perhaps the off-handed treatment of Weetamoo at the hands of Mary Rowlandson’s narrative explains why the former has only recently been afforded more attention as a partner, and something of a provocator of, King Philip’s War.

The final two removes are by far the most voluminous as Rowlandson documents the circumstances leading to her release.  A letter arrived from Boston in which she learned that her husband and many of her friends from Lancaster were alive, so her heart filled with joy…then, the negotiations began.  A group of her captors she refers to as the “General Court” asked how much her husband would pay to secure her release.  Rowlandson’s status as the wife of a minister meant that she was somewhat well-known among the captives, so she would have garnered considerable interest.  The amount she mentioned in her narrative was twenty pounds, although she hoped that they would take less; it was certainly an awkward spot for her to be in.  The Indigenous forces also found themselves in a conundrum: it was mid-April 1676, and they were running dangerously low on food.  They needed to end the war quickly, preferably in their favor, so they were in the midst of battle preparations when Rowlandson’s ransom negotiations began.  She even witnessed the war dance that preceded the next battle, joining a handful of outsiders to ever do so.  Mary vividly described the scene as an elaborate ritual involving deerskin, guns, and choreographed movements.  The dance ended with all involved heading to Sudbury, with Rowlandson claiming that “they went without any scruple, but that they should prosper and gain the victory.”  She was right as the English forces were routed to the tune of only 5-6 casualties on the Native side, but Rowlandson noted the the mood was sour despite the battlefield success

Part of this increased desire to gain victory and influence the English to sue for peace was due to dwindling supplies, but it also was related to the decision of the Mohawks to enter the war.  We learned last week that the Mohawks of the Haudenosaunee were feared, and I mean feared, as fighters.  They were enemies of the Mohegans, who had initially pledged their support for the English courtesy of the elderly Sachem Uncas, but they were also allies of the Narragansetts, so logic dictated that they could have helped Metacom.  However, New York’s governor threatened to end the supply of weapons to the Mohawks that they utilized to wage war on their enemies, so they in turn agreed to fight England’s enemies.  This arms trade occurred at Albany, so this decision most likely explains why Rowlandson’s captors never traveled in that direction as it would have placed Metacom’s forces in complete entanglement with their enemies.  Rowlandson had no intimate knowledge of any of this: she gave her estimate of what she believed her ransom to be worth, and prayed for the best.  The money arrived, but it took an additional ritual involving Quinnapin and Weetamoo to decide whether or not to actually release Mary: the answer was “yes,” provided that they also received liquor.  Metacomet even got in on the decision and asked Rowlandson what she would provide to “speak a good word” for herself, which is somewhat odd given that he technically had no say in Rowlandson’s release, but the next day her freedom was granted, ending her 12-week incarceration.  She reached Lancaster that night, or what was left of it, which was nothing, and arrived in Boston by the next evening, reuniting with her husband.  Her two children would be released in the coming months, ending their long ordeal.

The fighting was truly drawing to a close at around this time.  Colonial forces and their Indigenous allies were defeating Metacom's fighters in the field, and the latter’s supplies remained lower than ever.  Starving and outnumbered, many Wampanoag began to consider the offer that the militia increasingly gave them: surrender, or die.  The ending for Weetamoo came on August 6 when her drowned body was discovered in the Tauton River.  Six days later, Metacomet was killed by the gunshot of a Christian Wampanoag: the English leader of the force who tracked him down, Benjamin Church, decapitated him and quartered his body.  The war was effectively over as two of its most charismatic leaders were dead and nearly all of the Wampanoag, Narragansetts, and Nipmucks were killed, captured, or sold into slavery.  Roger Williams, the strong-willed individual who was banished from Massachusetts and took refuge with the Wampanoag in the 1630’s, was now in charge of distributing Indigenous slaves.  And Uncas, the Mohegan sachem who allied with the English during the Pequot War, used the arms he gained through this alliance to stave off land grabs that had befallen his enemies.  As for  Rowlandson?  She moved to Connecticut with her family, but Joseph died two years later.  She then moved to Boston and married Samuel Talcott in 1679, taking on his last name.  Her narrative, The Sovereignty and Goodness of God: Being a Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson was published in 1682 and went through four printings in that year alone.  It proved to be the genesis of a new literary genre: the American captivity narrative in which white colonists would publish accounts of their time living among Indigenous peoples.  This work brought her mild fame and provides us with a firsthand account of America’s deadliest per capita conflict, albeit from the unique perspective of a noncombatant.  She ended up living until the age of 73, dying in 1711, nearly  80 years after the establishment of Boston, and 35 years following the end of a conflict with which her words are so closely intertwined.  

Join us next week as we revisit Spanish efforts at North American colonization, and the exceptionally rough patch that they encounter in the American Southwest.  Next week, on History: Beyond the Textbook, we travel to this region to learn about Po’Pay, and the Great Southwest Rebellion that he masterminded against Spanish rule.in the late 1600’s.