Had she consented, in 1775, to the peaceful dismemberment of her empire, the independence of America, under such circumstances, would have increased her glory, spared her treasury, and saved her laborers form the pressure of taxes under which they have been weighed down. It may be, however, that the war was necessary to us. In ante- Revolutionary times there was not a strong tendency to union—in many parts of the country the opposite feeling existed. Even the Constitution was framed with difficulty, and received with hesitation and doubt. The Constitution is not so much the result as the cause of our national character. The colonies had had different foundations. Some were English, some were Dutch, some were Roundheads, some Cavaliers, some were Catholics, some Protestants, some Baptists, some Quakers, some Congregationalists; and, finally, some of the colonies were free and some held slaves. It is apparent that there was not that tendency to union which was necessary to the formation of the Constitution. But the mutual dependence which the mutual necessities of the war produced convinced many of the propriety of a common government—a government which should be adequate to a time of peace and to a condition of war—a government which should guard each State from civil commotion and protect its citizens and commerce in every part of the world. It is evident that the free surrender of jurisdiction would have left the colonies to many years of separate existence, and controversies which might have passed into open hostility. The period between peace and the adoption of the Constitution was hardly more desirable than the previous condition of war. The currency was disordered and without value, the revenue systems of the different States were various and injurious to legitimate commerce, while the want of uniform laws upon subjects altogether national, was everywhere observed. A general government, adequate to the necessities of the nation, was not established until the inadequacy of the State governments had been felt in peace and war; but war more than peace created bonds of sympathy, and inspired confidence among the States.

The Revolution opened in Massachusetts. This province having been marked by the British Government, was not at all reluctant to take a prominent position in the controversies from 1765 to 1775. Therefore the attack was properly directed here, and here with equal propriety the first forcible resistance was made to British aggression.

The difficulties with Massachusetts were a century old. The colony charter had been annulled—her territory on the Merrimack and the Narragansett had been transferred to neighboring colonies, and the men whom she had elected to preside in her House of Representatives had been repeatedly rejected.

There had been from the first an ardent desire in the colony to establish a free Christian commonwealth, and on the part of England to maintain, if not extend, the power of the British Parliament. In May, 1774, as the representative of the latter purpose, General Gage arrived in Boston, and was soon followed by considerable bodies of troops. In August of the same year measures were taken for a Provincial Congress, to concert and execute an effectual plan for counteracting the system of despotism which had been introduced. The Congress instructed the general officers "effectually to oppose and resist" all attempts to execute the obnoxious acts of the British Parliament; and by a singular coincidence on the same day, February 9, 1775, the Parliament pledged the lives and property of the Commons to the support of those laws. On the side of the Americans, the courts were declared unconstitutional and their officers traitors—and the practice of the military art was earnestly recommended.

By the 1st of September, 1774, the issue was fairly presented. The claim on one side was the supremacy of the British Parliament, and on the other the supremacy of the American people. Parliament claimed the right to legislate for or over the colonies in all cases whatsoever; this right the colonists denied. Parliament had asserted its supremacy by the passage, in May, 1774, of "An act for the better regulating the government of the province of Massachusetts Bay," and "An act for the more impartial administration of justice in said province." Submission to these acts was the test. They would not execute themselves. Their precise character was of no great importance to the people. It was a question of right, of authority, and not of detail. Had the acts been less oppressive, or even more so, the principle at issue would not have been changed. In August, 1774, one hundred and fifty of the best men of Middlesex assembled in the adjacent town of Concord, and uttered these memorable words:

"We are obliged to say, however painful it may be to us, that the question now is, whether by a submission to some of the late acts of the Parliament of Great Britain, we are contented to be the most abject slaves, and entail that slavery on posterity after us, or, by a manly, joint and virtuous opposition, assert and support our freedom. There is a mode of conduct which, in our very critical circumstances we wish to adopt—a conduct, on the one hand, never tamely submissive to tyranny and oppression; on the other, never degenerating into rage, passion and confusion." Again, "We must now exert ourselves, or all those efforts which for ten years past have brightened the annals of this country, will be totally frustrated. Life and Death, or what is more, Freedom and Slavery, are in a peculiar sense now before us; and that choice and success, under God, depend greatly on ourselves. We are therefore bound, as struggling not only for ourselves, but for future generations, to express our sentiments in the following resolves —sentiments which we think are founded in truth and justice, and therefore sentiments we are determined to abide by." In conclusion they say "no danger shall affright, no difficulties intimidate us; and if, in support of our rights, we are called to encounter even death, we are yet undaunted, sensible that he can never die too soon who lays down his life in support of the laws and liberties of his country."

If we for a moment forget the territorial and popular influence which belongs to the action of sovereign States and large masses of men, we shall see no material difference between this language and that of the Declaration of Independence. It was a pledge of life to the support of the laws and liberties of the land. It was at once a concise and forcible review of the past; a just and eloquent defence of the principles and conduct of the colony; a noble appeal in behalf of that and future generations. Memorable words for men to utter who led at Lexington, Concord and Bunker Hill!

James Prescott, of Groton, was chairman of the convention, and Frances Faulkner, John Hayward and Ephraim Hapgood were members from the town of Acton. This was the most important step taken prior to the commencement of hostilities. The convention attracted universal notice. Copies of its proceedings were sent to the Continental Congress, then sitting at Philadelphia, and they received cordial approbation. But even as late as September, 1774, the patriots say to General Gage, "that their sole intention is to preserve pure and inviolate those rights to which, as men, and English Americans, they are justly entitled, and which have been guaranteed to them by his majesty's royal predecessors." Thus anxious were they at every point of the controversy to define the ground on which they stood.

From August, 1774, to February, 1775, the British were engaged in examinations of the country, in landing and drilling the troops, and in vain attempts to check the progress or expression of the public sentiment of almost universal hostility.

The province was engaged in the organization and discipline of the minute men, and the collection and safe-keeping of stores, arms, and munitions of war; preparations for attack on the one side, and preparations for defence on the other. Nevertheless, this was a season for reflection. For six months after the issue was fairly presented, there were no evidences of fear, and but few indications of a disposition to conciliate.

General Gage, however, appears not to have entertained the common notion of English officers, that a small body of troops would put down all opposition. He informed his government that the time for "conciliation, moderation, reasoning was over," and that the first campaign should be opened by the presence of twenty thousand men. This was wise advice, because it was such advice as a wise man would have given under the circumstances. It was, however, a fortunate blunder in the English Government that they rejected it. They held Boston with the army they sent, and with a larger army they could have done nothing more. They might have made more frequent and more sanguinary forays into the country, but the result of the campaign would have been the same. It was neither possible nor politic for the Americans in the Revolution to assemble large bodies of troops; therefore, the presence of twenty, or even fifty, thousand men, would not have been a matter of great importance to the colonies.

England held us in 1775, as she holds many of her provinces now—by their own consent, but not otherwise. That consent can be perpetual only by the recognition of the principles of freedom and equality. The cause of liberty raises up friends and advocates everywhere. None of its martyrs ever die unwept, unhonored or unsung. The human heart has never been truer to any principle than to that of liberty. It is not in America alone that the cause of freedom excites sympathy and enlists support. Its voice is as potential, its victories as grateful elsewhere as with us. And when its banner is borne down and trampled in the dust, it is not in America alone that true hearts sympathize and bleed. There are noble men in England, France, Germany, Italy, and Hungary, upon whom the blow falls, as upon the first victims of slavery. But in the wisdom of God, the nation that is not just shall stand finally

"Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe, An empty urn within her withered hands."

And thus shall it be with Austria. With the judgment of the civilized world against her, with her people disaffected and disloyal, her treasury drained and her credit destroyed, she shall wither and fall. The partition of Poland, and the dispersion of the Poles all over Europe, have been active agencies in the revolutionary movements of that continent. Thus do the results of tyranny aid in the overthrow of tyrants. No government can now be considered strong, whether it call itself republican or monarchial, unless its foundations are laid deep in the affections of the people, and based upon the immutable principles of justice and equality.

In 1775, England had been engaged a century in the work of disunion. In a hundred years great changes may be wrought. The affections of a whole people may be diverted from former objects and attached to new ones. This was the great change which took place in America. England had ceased to be the mother country. The colonists had less regard for her in 1774 and 1775 than we have now. All fear and, I trust, all prejudice have disappeared, and we may look upon her as she is. However England may regard us, we need only view her as a splendid example of a nation great and powerful by the productiveness of her soil and mines, the ability of her people, and the liberalizing spirit of her commerce. In her present external condition, in her vast navy, her extensive commerce, in all save her insulated and secure position, we may read our own near destiny. Grasping, ambitious and powerful the British race certainly is; illiberal, cowardly or mean it certainly is not. Highly refined it never was, possibly never will be. Neither the ocean nor the mountain produces the highest refinement of manners or nicety of scientific investigation; but the shores of the ocean and the mountain valleys are the birthplaces of great men.

"Chains may subdue the feeble spirit, but thee, Man of the iron heart, they could not tame; For thou wert of the mountains, they proclaim The everlasting creed of liberty."

On the 19th of April, 1775, the first movement was made which really put in danger the lives and property of the inhabitants of Massachusetts. Its destination was Concord—its object the destruction of the stores secreted there, and incidentally the seizure of obnoxious patriots who were members of the Provincial Congress, which had then but recently adjourned. It was a test movement in the controversy. If the British could make incursions and seize the public property of the province then the colonies would be disarmed and without the means of resisting the offensive acts of May, 1774. Hence the protection of the stores was the question of resistance or submission to the claims of Parliament.

You know the story of the stealthy, midnight march from Boston,—the successful mission to Adams and Hancock,—the sudden fear which seized Colonel Smith, the commander of the expedition,—his call for reinforcements before he knew whether the yeomanry would fight or not, —the massacre at Lexington,—the alarm of the country,—the gathering of the minute men,—the arrival of the foe at Concord,—the division of the invading party to secure the entrance to the town,—the engagement at the Old North Bridge, where the resolutions of the county of Middlesex of August, 1774, were embodied in action,—the confusion consequent upon so serious a matter as resistance to the Parliament and Ministry of England,—the retreat of the invading party,—the hot pursuit,—the final flight,—and the electric shock which the proceedings of April 19 gave to the colonies and to Great Britain.

These events were long and well remembered, and the historian cannot omit to give them importance in his view of the progress of liberty, and especially of American liberty. But my respect for your familiarity with the opening, thrilling scenes of the Revolution counsels me to omit the details, even when we remember those whose names have been made illustrious by the parts they bore. All shall live upon the just page of our own historian. But the interest which belongs to the events of that day is not more on account of the important results of the war, than from the sense of duty under which the contest was commenced. It was this conviction which made American invincible. It produced that singular and highest quality of martyrdom which endures more than the worst enemies can inflict. It was this sense of duty which gave courage to our soldiers and inspired all our families with that charity and patriotism on which the army was so dependent for clothing and the necessities of life. The sentiment was almost universal that the colonies were oppressed, that the policy of the mother country was in violation of its own principles of government, that the colonists were refused the rights and privileges of British subjects, and lastly that Great Britain was determined to introduce a commercial system purposely detrimental to colonial interests; in fine, that commerce was to be paralyzed, manufactures discouraged, and agriculture reduced to a state of vassalage.

The public attention had been for many years directed to the possibility of a rupture,—none knew when or how terrible it would be. There had, however, been a long season of preparation. The courage necessary to meet the crisis was quite different from that which the mere soldier requires.

In 1775 our fathers were called upon to judge of the morality of the course they were entering, not for themselves only, but for their country and for posterity.

They commenced as rebels; whether their career should be that of patriots or traitors was in some degree uncertain. But a high sense of duty overcame all obstacles and led them with a firm reliance on Divine Providence to take the great step which must lead to freedom and honor or slavery and disgrace.

Acton had uniformly supported the policy of the colony, and early pledged itself to the town of Boston in favor of non-importation and non-consumption of foreign products. It declared in strong language its hostility to all those who did not subscribe to the merchants' agreement; even to denying them personal notice and social conversation. In November, 1774, a company of minute men was raised and placed under the command of Isaac Davis. It contained the hope of the town,—young men from sixteen to thirty years of age. They were frequently drilled at the public cost, and they acquired a good deal of discipline. On the morning of the 19th of April the town of Acton was alarmed by some unknown person who hurried rapidly on to more interior points. Early in the day Captain Davis with his company, enrolling about forty men, reached the northerly side of Concord River and took his proper position on the left of the line under command of Colonel Barrett. About a hundred British troops were near the bridge, but they soon removed to the opposite side of the river. Another small body had gone to Colonel Barrett's in search of stores secreted there. Before any blood was shed the officers of the provincial troops held a council at which it appears to have been understood that Captain Davis should take the right of the line. Whether the change was made in consequence of the superior equipment, or better discipline, or reputed valor of the Acton men, there is no reason to doubt it was made, and made with the consent, if not at the request, of the officers and principal men upon the ground. But for whatever reason made, it was none the less creditable to the command which at once assumed the post of honor and the position of danger.

The column was led by Major Buttrick, Colonel Robinson and Captain Davis. Colonel Robinson was lieutenant-colonel of Prescott's regiment, and on this occasion he volunteered for no purpose but the encouragement of the men. At the first general fire from the British, Captain Davis and Abner Hosmer, a private in Davis' company, were killed. Almost instantly the fire was returned, and one British soldier was killed and several were wounded. The engagement was at an end.

The two parties seem to have been equally confused by the fight. The Provincials manifested no fear, but the contest so long anticipated had actually taken place,—blood had been shed,—men had fallen on both sides. The responsibility of the moment was very great. In contemplation of law they had resisted the British Ministry, they had attacked the British throne.

The regulars retired to the village, and, the divisions of troops having joined each other, they commenced a retreat which for several miles was a precipitous flight.

Hayward fell mortally wounded at Lexington in a personal recontre with a British soldier. It was fatal to both, though Hayward survived several hours. With a religious patriotism he assured his father that the day's doings gave him no regret.

Patriotism is one of the most exalted virtues. It is not, as some would have us believe, a mere excitement, or even a passion. It is high among the virtues which men in this state of existence may exhibit. Patriotism is not merely a barren attachment to the country in which we were born, nor is it that narrow yet holy feeling which leads us to look with affection upon the spot of our nativity,—upon the hills over which we have roamed in childhood and youth; but a large and noble view of the entire nation,—a regard for its institutions, social, moral, civil and religious, crowned by a manly spirit which leads its possessor to peril all in their defence. The patriot is devoted and self-sacrificing.

Such were Davis, Hayward and Hosmer. Their names were comparatively humble, yet they were men of duty, men of religion, men of a liberal patriotism. Davis was about thirty years of age. He was both a husband and a father. He left his family that morning with a firm conviction that he should see them no more. If his lip quivered and his eye moistened as he trod his own freehold for the last time, fear had no part in those emotions. He had not accepted a command and trained his men for months without having anticipated the actual condition of war which was then immediately before him.

Hayward and Hosmer were both sons of deacons in the church and were sent forth that morning upon an errand of death with the paternal blessing. Neither churches nor clergy were indifferent to the result. The clergy had counseled resistance. The people had imbibed with their religious opinions and sentiments a deep hatred of oppression. The three who fell were young men and well educated for the age in which they lived. They were of the yeomanry. They did not serve on that day upon compulsion nor for mercenary motives. They were the servants of the province; they were martyrs in the cause of freedom.

"Their names mankind shall hold In deep remembrance, and their memory shall be A lasting monument, a sacred shrine Of those who died for righteousness and truth."

Colonel Robinson was a native of the county of Essex, but then a citizen of Westford. In 1775 he was forty years of age, a veteran of the French War, and at the time of his death in 1805 he had been engaged in nineteen battles. Of his courage there was no doubt. Thaxter says of him, "a braver and more upright man I never knew." At Bunker Hill he served under Prescott, who pronounced him both honorable and brave.

His epitaph claims for him the honor of commanding at Concord Bridge, but the weight of evidence is in favor of Major Buttrick as the active commander. And Robinson's fame can well spare even so distinguished an honor as the command at the North Bridge. The name of Major Buttrick, with that of Captain Davis, was early consecrated by the Legislature of the Commonwealth.

From ten to twelve o'clock, of the morning of the 19th, there was a cessation of hostilities. This respite was the natural result of the policy and purposes of the two parties. The Americans' great idea was resistance. Whatever may be said to the contrary, the officers in command did not regard it within their line of duty to make an attack. The instruction of the Provincial Congress were explicit to the contrary. It was deemed a great point to show that the British fired first. But even admitting the purpose of the Americans to make an attack, the village of Concord was most unfavorable. The British would have had the advantage of position, and at any moment might have inflicted irreparable injury in the destruction of the town. To whatever reason the alleged apathy of the Americans during those two hours is attributable, it was most fortunate for the cause they defended.

The purpose of the invaders, it is quite certain, was a retreat to Boston rather than a renewal of hostilities at Concord. The fierce and continued attack of the Americans during the afternoon was induced by a knowledge of what had happened at Lexington, by the presence of large numbers of men, and possibly by the advice and counsel of Adams and Hancock.

Of Davis' company there were men among the survivors who deserve well of posterity. Thomas Thorp was an apprentice in Acton, having been taken from the alms-house of the town of Boston. He not only served at Concord but during the war; and his love of country shone as bright in the evening as in the morning of his days.

In Massachusetts the revolution was carried on by towns. These organizations were proof against all the attacks of the British Government. For ten years previous to 1775, they had passed resolutions and taken the initiatory steps of resistance. The colonies were more cumbrous, and opinion when expressed was necessarily representative. Representatives may go beyond, or fall short of, the opinions of their principals, but the people themselves make no such mistakes. A New England town meeting is the most perfect democracy which the world has ever seen. Citizens are upon an equality. Votes are not given on account of wealth, standing, or official position, but as the primary, legitimate right of each citizen. Even at the commencement of the Revolution we had had great experience in voting. It was not a questionable right. At all times, even when valued rights of British subjects were invaded, that of voting had never been assailed. Towns not only chose their selectmen and representatives, but with great freedom they expressed opinions upon public affairs and the conduct of public men, even to the King upon his throne. They had voted men and supplies in the French war, and in the Revolution they did the same. In this province the people were reached through the towns almost exclusively. They voluntarily assumed the burdens of the war, and hence they had great influence in its prosecution. It is a singular and most agreeable fact that the Revolution was eminently a popular movement; and in proportion as we appreciate correctly the burdens of the war does our respect increase for the men who voluntarily assumed them. When the army was famishing, when the soldiers were destitute of clothing, when men and money were needed, the appeal was made to the towns, and in their meetings the subject was considered and determined. I know not of a more gratifying fact in the Revolution than this, and I may venture to say that it is one whose importance has been sometimes overlooked.

The spirit of patriotic Boston was the spirit of every municipality in the province, and there is no instance of devotion superior to that manifested by all when Boston was the special object of ministerial wrath. Her injuries were felt by each town as though the blow were aimed at its own independence and integrity. And so in fact it was. But had Boston even fallen there were still strongholds of rebellion throughout the province, and the principles of the revolution would have survived.

Nor did the towns cease their efforts when they had voted supplies for the prosecution of the war. They took part early in favor of independence. In every town men sprung up equal to the crisis which existed. Our local histories will bear to posterity resolutions as immortal in sentiment and principle as the Declaration of Independence itself. The resolutions of the neighboring towns of Concord express the views of Massachusetts towns. They say: "As men we have a right to life, liberty and property; as Christians, we in this land (blessed be God for it) have a right to worship God according to the dictates of our own consciences; and as subjects we have a right to personal security, personal liberty, and private property. These principal rights we have as subjects of Great Britain; and no power on earth can agreeably to our constitution take them from us, or any part of them without our consent." Where such principles existed the Declaration of Independence was a necessity; therefore when it came, most of our towns were prepared not only to accept it but to sustain it. They readily affirmed in their own names the principles which had been declared, and assumed the responsibilities which had been taken by their representatives in the Continental Congress.

Nor did their active agency in the cause of liberty and government cease here. They declared the principles on which the State government ought to be based and the manner of framing it. The resolutions of Acton and Concord are full and explicit on this point. They deny the authority of the Legislature to frame a constitution because, says the town of Acton, "a constitution properly framed has a system of principles established to secure the subjects in the possession of their rights and privileges, against any encroachments of the Legislative part; and it is our opinion that the same body that forms a constitution, have, of consequence, a power to alter it; and we conceive, that a constitution, alterable by the supreme legislative power, is no security to the subjects, against the encroachments of that power on our right and privileges." And it was resolved, "that the town thinks it expedient that a convention be chosen by the inhabitants of the several towns and districts in this state, being free to form and establish a constitution for this state." The constitution proposed by the Legislature was rejected by a vote of about three to one.

Similar resolutions were passed by Concord, and the legislative constitution was unanimously rejected. But the town of Acton, early and alone, so far as I can ascertain, made a distinct declaration in favor of an American Republic. On the 14th of June, 1776, twenty days before the Declaration of Independence, the inhabitants declared "that the many injuries and unheard of barbarities, which the colonies have received from Great Britain, confirm us in the opinion, that the present age will be deficient in their duty to God, their posterity and themselves, if they do not establish an American republic. This is the only form of government we wish to see established."

It is true that the idea of a common government was somewhat general, but not my any means universal even in Massachusetts, while Maryland had not then declared herself in favor of independence.

It was a liberal, enlarged, progressive idea which looked from beneath the lowering clouds of war, tyranny and hardship to the existence of an American republic which should include at least all the territory within the jurisdiction of the thirteen colonies. For even at a much later period there were men of exalted attainments who doubted the applicability of the republican principle to large sections of territory, and who would have sough in the division of the country, or in the establishment of what was then deemed a stronger government that security which they did not expect in an American republic.

The revolution through the town governments had three principal points of support. First, popular intelligence; secondly, the influence of the clergy; thirdly, the possession of land.

The age of the Revolution was an intelligent, thinking age. It cannot be considered as one of refinement, but there was a great deal of original, independent, manly, intellectual activity. It was an age of great men, both in this country and England. It could boast of the Pitts, Burke, Fox and Sheridan; of Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, the Adamses, Patrick Henry and the Lees. It was an age of useful intelligence, of eminent practical wisdom. The leading minds of a country to some extent represent its general characteristics. A popular sentiment which sustained with fidelity the measures of non- intercourse, of resistance and of war; which gave a generous, affectionate, intelligent support to the leaders of the Revolution, must have been liberal, sagacious and honest. The common-school system had been in operation more than a century and a quarter, and under its influence the patriotism of the Revolution was highly intelligent.

The clergy generally were warm supporters of the war. Most of them were graduates of Harvard College, whose influence was always on the patriot side. The influence of the clergy was very great in New England; hence the two most powerful springs of human action, religious and political enthusiasm, were blended in the breasts of our fathers. Some of the clergy, like Emerson of Concord, gave their personal services to the American cause; while others, like Adams and Clark, made the points in controversy with the mother country themes of religious discourse. The religion of Massachusetts was patriotic.

The Rev. Zabdiel Adams, of Lunenburg, in a sermon preached during the war, uttered these prophetic words: "To encourage us to persevere, let us anticipate the rising glory of America. Behold her seas whitened with commerce, her capitals filled with inhabitants, and resounding with the din of industry. See her rising to independence and glory. Contemplate the respectable figure she will one day make among the nations of the earth; behold her venerable for wisdom, for counsel, for might; flourishing in science, in agriculture and navigation, and in the arts of peace. Figure to yourselves that this your native country will ere long become the permanent seat of liberty, the retreat of philosophers, the asylum of the oppressed, the umpire of contending nations, and we would hope the glory of Christ."

In the Revolution a large portion of the people were land-holders,—men who answer to the old Saxon term yeoman. Of course it is not possible for every man to own land, nor is it essential that every man should be a land-holder, yet it is evident that a community loses nothing by an increase of proprietors.

When a man owns land, even though his acres be not broad, he feels a new interest in the welfare and freedom of the state. The possession of land creates a certain and desirable independence. Inducements should therefore be held out to every branch of society, that the ennobling idea of home may be realized in every bosom. Even to this day our unoccupied lands are the storehouse of American freedom,—they are father's mansions to which every son of the Republic, be he prodigal or not, may turn his steps and find a welcome.

And when our population shall have reached two hundred million, may there still be beneath the flag of the Republic a home for the oppressed and a refuge for the down-trodden.

In 1775 the spirit of emigration had not developed itself in the New England character; it was latent until Wayne's victory in 1794 prepared for our fathers the fertile lands and inviting climate of Ohio. The proportion of land-holders in Massachusetts was much greater then than at present, though the absolute number is now quite equal to that of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

In all other countries the possession of land has been the element of aristocracy; but with us it has been made subservient to the principles of republicanism. And as an aristocracy cannot exist unless the land is aggregated in the hands of a few, so a republic cannot exist unless the land is divided among the many. There can be no doubt that the great proportion of land-holders was an element of strength in the Revolution. Patriotism is defined as love of country,—and part of that love proceeds from the fact that within and under the protection of our country is our home.

On the 19th of April, 1775, the men of Acton left their homes upon these hills, and their families anxious and disconsolate, that they and their descendants might have homes undisturbed by the hand of the oppressor.

On the 20th of April, 1775, these homes were deserted that all might pay the last tribute of respect to Davis, Hayward and Hosmer. And now after the lapse of seventy-six years the descendants of that generation have met, not as then to mingle their tears at the grave of departed friends and heroes, but to utter with all of filial respect the names of worthy men, and to impress with new power upon their hearts the sentiment of gratitude for all who served and suffered in the cause of American freedom. And as we contemplate the glorious death of those who fell, shall we not say,

"Since all must life resign, Those sweet reward which decorate the brave 'Tis folly to decline, And steal inglorious to the silent grave."

As compared with the existence of the world only a short space of time has intervened between the 19th of April, 1775, and this day, yet three generations of men have trodden these fields and aided in the great work of perfecting and preserving American institutions. With what confidence, fellow citizens, did your ancestors look to independence and the establishment of the form of government under which we have lived and prospered as a people? Beyond this form neither the patriot nor statesman can look with hope.

Who will propose to the now united American people either a return to the almost forgotten confederacy of 1778, or the establishment of several governments? Nobody,—nobody. When we contrast our institutions with those of any other country, how ought we to thank God for the measure of personal happiness and political security we have enjoyed.

Not that our institutions are perfect,—nor that there is nothing which the philanthropist may deplore or the statesman condemn. All the anticipations of our ancestors have not been realized. The past is not all perfect; the future will not always cheer us with sunshine and smiles; but he is a misanthrope who allows his opinions to be controlled by the exceptions to the general current of our national career.

Our years of independence have been years of almost uninterrupted prosperity, but they have borne to the grave those who took part in the later as well as earlier contests of the Revolution. Of Lexington and Concord, one only remains; and from all the battlefields of the war this occasion has brought together but two.

But, fellow citizens, the few survivors are not only venerable, they are sacred men. They are the last of a noble generation. They periled their lives in behalf of liberty, when

"'Twas treason to love her and death to defend."

Fortunate all are you whose eyes rest to-day on these few surviving soldiers of the Revolution. Fortunate are the youth and children who on this occasion and in this presence can pledge themselves to the cause of constitutional liberty. Of these men the next generation shall know only from history. Fortune then that your lives began before theirs ended.

The patriot should do homage to these men, the statesman may sit at their feet and learn lessons of fidelity to principle, and citizens all may see how noble ends the life begun in the performance of duty.

To-day the commonwealth of Massachusetts and the town of Acton dedicate this monument to the memory of the early martyrs of the Revolution, and consecrate it to the principles of liberty and of patriotism. Here its base shall rest and its apex point to the heavens through the coming centuries. Though it bears the names of humble men, and commemorates services stern rather than brilliant, it shall be as immortal as American history. The ground on which it stand shall be made classical by the deeds which it commemorates. And may this monument exist only with the existence of the republic; and when God in His wisdom shall bring this government to nought, as all human governments must come to nought, may no stone remain to point the inquirer to fields of valor or to remind him of deeds of glory. And finally, may the republic resemble the sun in his daily circuit, so that none shall know whether its path were more glorious in the rising or in the setting.

XVII SUDBURY MONUMENT

At the session of 1851 the Legislature made an appropriation of five hundred dollars to aid the town of Sudbury in building a memorial to Captain Wadsworth and the men of his command who were cut off at Sudbury in the year 1676 in the war known as King Philip's War.

As Governor I was made a member of the committee for the erection of a monument. The first subject was the style of the memorial. The artists of Boston and vicinity sent designs and plans. Some of these were very attractive. It happened, however, that a member of my Council, the Hon. Isaac Davis, of Worcester, had returned recently from a visit to Europe. He informed me that he had seen at Lucca in Italy, a pyramidal structure which was considered the finest monument of its sort to be found in Europe. I sent immediately for the proportions of the pyramid and the Sudbury monument was modeled upon the same plan. I am of the opinion that it fully justified the claim made in behalf of the original.

A serious difficulty occurred in regard to the inscription upon the Sudbury monument. The original slab was erected in the year 1692 by Benjamin Wadsworth, a son of Captain Wadsworth. The son was then President Wadsworth of Harvard College. The inscription stated that the fight took place April 18, 1676. In later times it was discovered that two old almanacs, one kept by Minister Hobart of Hingham and one by Judge Sewall, contained entries of the fight on the 21st of April, 1676. I examined the question and became satisfied that those entries were made on the day when the intelligence was received by the writers. Accordingly I followed President Wadsworth as to the date. The Genealogical Register, under the charge of a Mr. Drake, in two articles criticized my inscription. I replied in the Register and ended my article with a sentence which Drake struck out. The sentence was this: "The testimony of President Wadsworth as to the time of his father's death is of more value than all the theories of all the genealogists who have existed since their vocation was so justly condemned by St. Paul."

A few months later I appeared in the court to try a case which involved my client's reputation for truth, and a thousand dollars in money. To my dismay I saw that Drake was foreman of the jury. I lost my case, but I think justly upon the evidence. My principal witness failed to make good upon the stand the statement that he had made to me in my office. One of the perils in the practice of law is that clients and clients' witnesses either make misstatements or fail to make full statements of the facts.

In the middle-third part of the nineteenth century, the date of Sudbury Fight was a topic of serious controversy by genealogists and historians. I was responsible for the date that appears upon the monument that was erected in the year 1852. The conclusion that I had reached was condemned by the Genealogical Register and by a committee of the Society. In the year 1866 I reviewed the evidence, on which my opponents relied, and I marshaled the evidence in support of the accuracy of the date that appeared upon the monument. In the year 1876 the town of Sudbury observed the bi-centennial on the 18th day of April, thus giving sanction to the date on the monument.

At the dedication of the Sudbury monument I made the following address:

ADDRESS

Families, races and nations of men appear, act their respective parts, and then pass away. Political organizations are dissolved by influence of time. At some periods and in some portions of the world, barbarous races appropriate to their use the former domain of civilization, while at other points of time and space nations are rapidly advancing in wealth and refinement. If savage communities have been exterminated by superior races of men, so have the arts and civilities of the most enlightened people been displaced by the rude passions and rugged manners of barbarism. As in the natural world there is a slow revolution of thousands of years, by which every part of this globe is brought within the tropics and beneath the poles, so there appears to be a great cycle of humanity, whose law is that every portion of the race shall pass through each condition of social, intellectual and moral existence.

But whatever may be the fate of families, races and nations, their influence is in some sense perpetual. The Past is not dead. By a mysterious cord it is connected with the Present. Could we analyze our life, we should perhaps find that but few of the emotions we experience are to be traced to events and circumstance which have occurred in our own time.

We admire the heroes of Grecian history and even of Grecian fable. We are inspired by ancient poetry and eloquence, as well as by the bards and orators of modern times. Painting and sculpture are the equal admiration of every refined age. The virtue of patriotism has been illustrated by savage as well as civilized life. Thus every recorded event of the past has somewhat of value for us. Hence men seek to connect themselves by blood and language with Europe, or even with Asia, and delight to trace their family and name into the dark centuries of the Past. We search for the truth amid the myths and fables of Grecian and Roman history, and have faith that the ruins of Ninevah, Memphis and Palmyra shall yet declare the civilities, learning, and religion of ancient days.

Few nations have had a perfect history. Valuable history can be derived only from the continued record of the transactions of a people. Wherever governments have existed in fact before they have existed in form, or wherever the proceedings of a government have not been matters of record, there can be no trustworthy history. In these respects Massachusetts has been fortunate. Her government is older than her existence as colonies, and from the first a faithful record of her proceedings has been made. The foundations of New Plymouth and Massachusetts were laid more than two centuries ago; the circumstances of this occasion lead us to consider the least defensible portions of their history; yet the world cannot charge them with suppressing any fact necessary to a true appreciation of their policy and character. Whatever they did was in the fear of God and without the fear of man. Conscious of their own integrity of purpose, they shrunk not from the judgment of posterity. And though in this hour we may not always approve their policy, so neither can we comprehend their principles or appreciate their trials. The human family has ever been subject to one great law. It is this: Inferior races disappear in the presence of their superiors, or become dependent upon them. Now, while this law shall not stand as a defence for our fathers, it is satisfactory to feel that no policy could have civilized or even saved the Indian tribes of Massachusetts. The remnants that linger in our midst are not the representatives of the native nobility of the forest two centuries ago. Nor did Williams or Eliot, by kindness or religion, ever command the fierce spirits of Miantonomo, Canonchet and Philip. Nevertheless, let history exalt these men. Let it speak truly of their genius, their courage, their patriotism, their devotion to their race, and, as for Massachusetts, she shall be known and read of all from the dark day when the colony of Plymouth had not ten efficient men, to this auspicious moment when within our borders a million of free and happy people speak the language and glory in the descent of the Pilgrim Fathers!

The existence of Massachusetts is properly divided into three parts.

First, as a colony from the settlement of Plymouth in 1620, to the loss of the Massachusetts charter in 1684. Second, as a province from the charter for the Province of William and Mary in 1691, to the Declaration of Independence in 1776. Third, as a State from 1780 to the present time. As a colony, the civil rights of our ancestors were those of British subjects, but their political and religious privileges were much greater. As a province their civil rights remained, religious freedom was extended, while their political privileges were materially limited.

The occasion, these services, this monument and inscription, connect us with the colony. We are not here so much reminded of the men who fell, as of the sacrifices and sufferings of the colonies in 1675 and '76. The period of King Philip's War was the most trying and perilous in our history. The Revolution was a struggle for freedom; the contest with Philip was for existence. Philip contemplated the extermination of the English in America, while King George only desired their subjugation to his authority. Nor was the latter ever so near the accomplishment of his design as was the former in the autumn of 1675.

Massachusetts has seen no other such winter as that which followed.

"Morn came, and went—and came, and brought not day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation."

As late as March, 1676, says Hubbard, "it was full sea with Philip's affairs." And even on the 26th of April, the Plymouth colony writes thus to Massachusetts:

"The Lord undertake for us, for we are in a very low condition; and the spirits of our people begin to run low, also being now averse to going forth against the enemies. The Lord have us patient to wait God's time, although our salvation seems still to be far from us."

The war commenced on the 24th day of June, 1675, and ended on the 12th of August, 1676, by the death of Philip.

The colonies of Massachusetts, Plymouth, Connecticut and New Haven were united, and Governor Josiah Winslow of Plymouth was appointed commander-in-chief.

Neither the population nor the available force of the colonies is now known. Some writers have estimated the population of New England at a hundred and twenty thousand. This is plainly an exaggeration. From a few scattered fragments and facts we may conclude that Massachusetts had a force of about 4,500 men, New Haven and Connecticut about 2,000, and Plymouth about 1,300; in all about 8,000 men. Of these Massachusetts had a cavalry force seven hundred strong. Upon this basis the entire population could not have exceeded 60,000, and some writers, on the other hand, have estimated it at only forty thousand souls. But, whatever may have been the number of able-bodied men in the colonies, the available force for active service must have been small. A large number of towns were to be garrisoned, and many men were necessarily employed in the customary duties of life.

Still less is known of the strength of Philip's confederated tribes. Pestilence and war had depopulated New England previous to the arrival of the Pilgrims. In 1675 the Pokanokets and Narragansets were the most powerful, and together mustered three or four thousand warriors. Philip was sachem of the Pokanokets and Canonchet of the Narragansets. These tribes constituted Philip's reliable strength, but he had confederated with him and pledged to the common cause the smaller chiefs of the Piscataqua and Merrimack, of central Massachusetts and the valley of the Connecticut. The Narragansets occupied what is now Rhode Island and the islands adjacent thereto, while Philip as the chief of the Pokanokets or Wampanoags had his seat at Montaup or Mount Hope. It was not, however, expedient or possible for him to consecrate a large force upon any one point. With his forces divided into war parties as necessity or circumstances dictated, he was able in the space of thirteen months to attack and partially or entirely destroy a great number of towns, among which were Brookfield, Lancaster, Marlboro', Sudbury, Groton, Deerfield, Springfield, Hatfield, Northfield, Northampton, Chelmsford, Andover, Medfield, Rehoboth, Plymouth, Scituate, Weymouth, and Middleborough in Massachusetts, and New Plymouth, Providence and Warwick in Rhode Island. Of these, twelve or thirteen were entirely destroyed.

Six hundred dwellings were burned, and sixteen hundred persons slain or carried into captivity. There was not a house standing between Stonington and Providence. It was as destructive as a war would now be to Massachusetts which should send twenty thousand able-bodied men to the grave, and render twenty thousand families houseless, and for the most part destitute. Had all the events of the Revolution been crowded into twelve months, the conflict would have been less terrible than was the war with Philip. His operations menaced and endangered the existence of the colony. There was a probability that the taunting threat of John Monoco, the leader of the party which burned Groton, that he would burn Chelmsford, Concord, Watertown, Cambridge, Charlestown, Roxbury and Boston, might even be executed. Hardly anything else remained of the Massachusetts colony on which the power and vengeance of Philip could fall. Points of the interior, to be sure, were garrisoned, but for the most part it was an unbroken forest, or marked only by heaps of smouldering ruins.

And here may we well pause and reflect, that however we or posterity may judge the Indian policy of our ancestors, the scenes through which they passed were not calculated to mitigate the horrors of war, or in the hour of triumph to awaken emotions of pity for the fallen.

As for the Indians, they were destroyed. Their great sachems had fallen. Anawon, Canonchet, Philip, were no more. Nor had their fighting men survived them. Their towns, of which they had many, were burned. And why should the humble wigwam remain when the heroic spirit of its occupant had departed?

And, worse than all, the women and children had been massacred or sold into slavery.

——"few remain To strive, and those must strive in vain."

Peace came; but—sad thought—there was no treaty of peace. It was a war of extermination. Not often in the history of the world has it happened thus. The colonists believed that they had been fighting the battles of God's chosen people. Mather says, "the evident hand of Heaven appearing on the side of the people, whose hope and help were alone in the Almighty Lord of Hosts, extinguished those nations of savages at such a rate, that there can hardly any of them now be found under any distinction upon the face of the earth."

At some points in New Hampshire and the district of Maine, the fires of war flickered ere they went forever out. Omitting comparatively unimportant incursions, the Indian wars of Massachusetts and New Plymouth were ended. The existence of these hitherto feeble settlements was rendered certain. Although political and religious controversies occupied the attention of the settlers, they yet found means to cultivate the arts of peace. The forest was broken up, commerce was increased, agriculture flourished, new settlements were made, confidence was created, men saw before them a future in which they had hope. As our fathers passed from war to peace they forgot not their religious duties, and the 29th of June in Massachusetts, and the 17th of August in Plymouth, were set part as days of public thanksgiving and praise. Days of sadness, too, they must have been; days of woe as well as of triumph. The colonies were bereaved in the loss of brave and valuable men,—families were bereaved in the loss of homes,—and all were bereaved in the fall or captivity of kindred and friends. And could our ancestors have seen that this was the first great step in the red man's solemn march to the grave, a tear of sympathy would have fallen in behalf of a noble and heroic race.

The war was brief; its operations were rapid. In the space of less than fourteen months the Indians were exterminated and the whites reduced to the condition I have faintly portrayed. Yet, until the 19th of December, 1675, when the colonists made a most destructive attack upon the Indians at what is now South Kingston, the war had been confined chiefly to the valley of the Connecticut. But from that moment Philip was like a hungry tiger goaded in confinement, suddenly let loose upon his prey. The destruction of villages and the deadly ambuscade of bodies of men followed each other in quick succession. In the space of sixty days his forces attacked Lancaster, Medfield, Weymouth, Groton, Warwick, Marlboro', Rehoboth, Providence, Chelmsford, Andover and Sudbury. At least one half of the death and desolation of this war was crowded into this short period of time.

There was no security except in garrisons defended by armed men. The Indian marches exceeded in celerity the movements of well-furnished cavalry in civilized countries. Their women even aided in the march and in the camp. Accustomed to hardship and famine, they subsisted in a manner incredible to our time and race. And with one or two exceptions, when the colonists came upon the Indians unexpectedly, the latter were superior in the strategic arts of war, though in open fight their fire was much less destructive. It must be confessed that Captain Lathrop at Bloody Brook, and Captain Wadsworth at Sudbury, were, in a degree, incautious. Hubbard closes his account of the disaster with these words:

"Thus, as in former attempts of like nature, too much courage and eagerness in pursuit of the enemy hath added another fatal blow to this poor country."

For a long period a feeling of insecurity oppressed the settlers. Each town was furnished with a garrison. The Indian trail was the signal for alarm, and through long years the events of Philip's war were borne by tradition and history to itching ears and timid hearts in the garrison and family circle.

Passing from the principal features of this bloody contest, we feel that its details are less certain.

In 1676, Sudbury was a frontier town, although settled as early as 1638. Marlboro' was attacked and nearly destroyed the 26th of March, 1676. Captain Sam'l Brocklebank, of Rowley, with a company of Essex men, was stationed at Marlboro'; but his apprehensions of danger were so slight that he asked to be relieved from the service. On the 27th of March, Lieutenant Jacobs, of Captain Brocklebank's company, with forty soldiers, one half of whom were Sudbury men, attacked a party of 300 sleeping Indians, and disabled thirty of them without the loss of a man. The news of the attack upon Marlboro' early furnished by Captain Brocklebank induced the Council to order Captain Wadsworth of Milton, with about fifty men, to its relief. At or near Marlboro' he was informed that Sudbury was the besieged town. It is certain that he left his young men in the garrison at Marlboro' under the command of Lieutenant Jacobs, and he was probably joined by Captain Brocklebank with a part or the whole of his command. It is said that Wadsworth had marched from Boston that day, yet he moved immediately for the relief of Sudbury. Presuming that the hill where this monument stands is that to which Captain Wadsworth was forced by the Indians, their decoy-outposts must have been a mile or a mile and a half on the way to Marlboro'.

Captain Wadsworth estimated the number of Indians first discovered at one hundred. These he pursued about a mile, when he found himself surrounded by a body of savages four or five hundred strong. Captain Wadsworth was probably at the bloody fight of the 19th of December, he was in the Narraganset country about the 1st of January, and he had marched at the head of forty men to the relief of Lancaster, yet he appears from the little truth within our reach, to have neglected those precautions essential to safety in Indian warfare. But is should be remembered that Captain Wadsworth and Captain Brocklebank were born about the time of the Pequot War, and could have had no experience in similar service previous to hostilities with Philip.

The loss of men is not certainly known, nor do writers agree that the fight took place on the 18th of April.

The inscription upon the monument follows the authority of President Wadsworth of Harvard College, son of Captain Wadsworth, and for a portion of his life minister of the first church in Boston. He had superior facilities for ascertaining the truth and strong motives for stating it. He puts the loss at twenty-nine officers and men, and fixes upon the 18th of April as the day of the fight.

His statement is sustained by the evidence I have gathered. Some writers have put the loss at fifty, and others as high as seventy men, but these numbers exceed the truth. Wadsworth had fifty men; Brocklebank may have had as many more. We can account for about ninety-six. On the 24th of April, Lieutenant Jacobs acknowledges the receipt of his charge as Captain, in place of Captain Brocklebank, and informs the Governor and his Council that his company consists of about forty-six men, a portion of whom were left at Marlboro' by Captain Wadsworth.

Hubbard says, that of Wadsworth's company, not above twenty escaped, and Daniel Warren and Joseph Pierce, who buried the dead, say that fourteen or fifteen of Captain Wadsworth's men were concealed at Mr. Noist's mill. Taking the statements of Hubbard and Jacobs, we account for ninety-six officers and men, viz.: forty-seven left at Marlboro', twenty-nine killed, and twenty escaped.

Some writer has stated that the battle was fought on the 21st, instead of the 18th of April. It may not be proved that the battle was fought on the 18th, but it is determined that it was fought previous to the 21st.

On the 21st of April, the Massachusetts Council communicated the fact in writing to the Plymouth Colony. It is true that Lieutenant Jacobs does not mention the loss of Wadsworth and Brocklebank in a letter to the Governor and Council, dated at Marlboro' on the 22nd of April; but in his letter of the 24th, he refers to the subject as he might have done, had he received the intelligence when he received his authority to take the command of the fort and men at Marlboro'. And this was probably the case. That communication between the two towns was suspended, is apparent from Jacobs' letter of the 22nd of April, to which I have referred. The conclusion, I think, is that, under the circumstances, there is a reasonable amount of evidence in support of the statement of President Wadsworth.

The loss of Wadsworth and Brocklebank was severely felt by the colony. Hubbard says, "Wadsworth was a resolute, stout-hearted soldier, and Brocklebank a choice, spirited man." Mather says, "but the worst part of the story is, that Captain Wadsworth, one worthy to live in our history under the name of a good man, coming up after a long, hard, unwearied march with seventy men unto the relief of distressed Sudbury, found himself in the woods on the sudden, surrounded with about five hundred of the enemy, whereupon our men fought like men, and more than so."

Capt. Samuel Wadsworth was the youngest son of Christopher Wadsworth, one of the early Plymouth Pilgrims, who settled at Duxbury with Capt. Miles Standish. Samuel Wadsworth was born in Duxbury about 1630, and was therefore forty-five or six years of age when he died. He first appears at Milton, in 1656, where he took up three hundred acres of land near the center of the town. He was interested in obtaining the separation of the town from Dorchester and in its incorporation in 1662. In the new town he was the first captain of the militia, one of the selectmen, a member of the House of Representatives, a trustee of the church and active in church affairs. That he was highly esteemed in the town is apparent from these facts as well as from a memorial of Robert Babcock, one of the selectmen of Milton. He feelingly alludes to the loss in these words: "Captain Wadsworth being departed from us, whose face we shall see here no more."

Capt. Samuel Brocklebank, of Rowley, was born in England, and was also about forty-six years of age at the time of his death. In November, 1675, he informed Governor Leverett that he had impressed twelve men for the war. Of these, seven returned to Rowley. His correspondence with the Council shows him to have been a man of respectable attainments.

As then the colonies and the town shared a common grief in the loss of these devoted men, so now it is appropriate that the State and town should unite in the erection of this unpretending memorial of their names and virtues.

In April, 1676, Philip's power was at its height. But his successes had weakened him. His warriors were slain or scattered all over the country, his provisions and ammunition were exhausted, and Canonchet, his most valuable ally, had planned his last ambuscade, and rallied his Narragansets for the last time. The rapidity of Philip's movements, and the fierceness of his attacks, had deprived his warriors of the moral power to withstand reverses. His operations for two months had been those of a desperate man; and when desperation is followed by misfortune there is no hope of recovery.

The winter campaign of 1675-6 was opened and conducted with great vigor on the part of the colonies.

The second of December was appointed and set apart as a day of solemn humiliation for the imploring of God's special grace and favor to appear for his poor people. Then the treasurer was clothed with unlimited power to borrow money, and authorized to pledge the public lands acquired and to be acquired for the payment of the war debt; one thousand stands of arms and a corresponding quantity of ammunition were ordered; men were impressed for active service in the field, for the erection and defence of garrisons, and for the tillage of the soil; the women and children of the frontier towns were sent towards the coast; the Indian trading houses were abolished; and even the members of Harvard College were required to pay their proportion of rates, and to serve in the army either personally or by substitute.

The Council were instructed to use their "utmost endeavors, with promise of such rewards as they judge meet, to get the Mohegans and Pequots" to cut off the Indians of Philip. Governor Winslow was commander-in-chief, and was instructed by "care, courage, diligence, policy and favor, to discover, pursue and encounter, and by the help of God to vanquish and subdue the cruel, barbarous and treacherous enemy, whether Philip Sachem and his Wampanoags, or the Narraganset and his undoubted allies, or any other their friends and abettors."

Canonchet, son of Miantonomo and grand nephew of Canonicus, was chief of the Narragansets. When the colonists first became acquainted with this tribe, Canonicus was their sachem, but his nephew Miantonomo was associated with him in the government. This sachem was never a friend to the English, and he early sent to Plymouth a bundle of arrows bound in a rattle-snake's skin as a war challenge. Miantonomo was less hostile, but Canonchet manifested the spirit of his grand uncle. Immediately after hostilities commenced with Philip the English demanded of Canonchet the surrender of certain Pokanokets alleged to be within his dominions. This was his reply: "Deliver the Indians of Philip! Never. Not a Wampanoag will I ever give up. No. Not the paring of a Wampanoag's nail."

He was of course charged with being in alliance with Philip. A force of a thousand men with such Indian allies as could be mustered, was marched immediately into his country. This was the force engaged on the 19th of December in the famous Swamp Fight, the most sanguinary battle of Philip's War. Six hundred warriors were slain, six hundred wigwams were burned, and an unknown number of women, children and old men perished in the flames. The English loss exceeded two hundred, among whom were several brave officers. From this moment the fortunes of Canonchet were identified with Philip's, and he is supposed to have commanded in many of the attacks upon the frontier towns. About the last of March, 1676, he visited the Connecticut River to urge, if not to superintend the planting of corn. Finding his people destitute of seed, he returned to obtain a supply, but was arrested at Seekonk and executed at Stonington. His death was a sad blow to Philip, and the occasion of a great joy in the colonies. When told that he must die, he said:

"It is well. I shall die before my heart is soft. I will speak nothing which Canonchet should be ashamed to speak. It is well."

Thus fell Canonchet, the last great chief of the Narragansets. A man so noble and chivalric in his spirit that his life and death commanded the admiration of his worst enemies. They vainly imagined that some disembodied spirit of Greece or Rome had revisited the earth in the vast physical and mental proportions of Canonchet.

Forty years before, the friendship of his father, Miantonomo, and the qualified hostility he assumed towards Sassacus and the Pequots had saved the infant colonies from destruction. Sassacus, the Pequot chief, had proposed to Canonicus an alliance against the English, but in consequence of the advice of Roger Williams, Miantonomo visited Governor Winthrop at Boston, was received and entertained with great ceremony, and finally concluded with the colonies a treaty of peace and alliance. Its main provisions were these:

1st. Peace with Massachusetts and the other English plantations.

2nd. Neither party to make peace with the Pequots without the consent of the other.

3rd. Neither party to harbor Pequots.

4th. Murderers escaping from either party to be put to death or delivered up to the other.

5th. Fugitive servants to be returned.

This treaty rendered the cause of the Pequots hopeless, and secured the safety of the English.

It was in the main observed by the Narragansets. They allowed the colonial army to pass through their territories, and furnished five hundred men for the war.

Uncas, the chief of the Mohegans, had also been an ally of the English against the Pequots. After the destruction of this tribe, the three parties declared a peace, and the spoils of the war were divided between the allies. But the Narragansets and Mohegans were naturally enemies. The latter were of the Pequot race, and Uncas himself, having married the daughter of Sassacus, was but a revolted subject of that great chief. It is said that one of Uncas' dependent sachems attacked Miantonomo, who referred the matter to the English and was told to take his own course, and invaded the Mohegan country with a thousand warriors. The fortunes of war were against him and he fell into the hands of Uncas. The victor now referred the fate of his victim to the English. They decided that the rules of war permitted, and the safety of Uncas required, the death of Miantonomo. They were careful, however, not to permit his execution within their jurisdiction. The colonies were responsible for the death of this chief. Uncas was nominally their ally, but really their subject. From first to last he did their bidding with a spirit so craven and a manner so treacherous that he was neither trusted nor respected by them. But the English in their death-warrant voluntarily offered to protect Uncas from the consequences of Miantonomo's death. This was in 1643, and thus did the English observe the treaty of peace made seven years before under circumstances of extraordinary solemnity. Miantonomo died the victim of rivalry, jealousy and fear, yet with a spirit so heroic that he scorned to ask the precious boon of life from those whom he had served rather than wronged. His death was the seed of the war of 1675, —for how, under these circumstances, could Canonchet, his son and successor, be other than the enemy of the English, the ready and efficient ally of Philip.

But aside from particular incidents in the relations of the English to the Indians there were three ever-operating causes of hostility.

1st. The mutual disposition of the English and the Indians to traffic with each other. The colonies passed the most stringent laws for the suppression of this traffic, or to make it a monopoly in their own hands, and the government at home issued two or more proclamations. These laws and proclamations had no great practical value, and the Indians were constantly supplied with spirits, clothing, munitions and weapons of war, either by the English, French, or Dutch. Thus trade furnished an occasion for hostility, and the means of gratifying the spirit of war.

2nd. There was a universal tendency in the people and governments of the colonies to acquire land.

There was, however, a settled purpose on the part of the company in England and the governments here to make this spirit conform to the principles of honor and justice. In the company's letter of instruction of April 17, 1629, Endicott and his Council were told that "If any of the savages pretend right of inheritance to all or any part of the lands granted in our patent, we pray you to endeavor to purchase their title, that we may avoid the least scruple of intrusion." And in a second letter of the 28th of May following, the same injunction is imposed upon the settlers. Attempts were made to pursue the course pointed out by the company, and a penalty of five pounds per acre was imposed upon any person who should receive an Indian title without the consent of the government. Governor Winslow, in 1676, writes thus: "I think I can clearly say, that before the present trouble broke out, the English did not possess one foot of land in this colony but what was fairly obtained by honest purchase of the Indian proprietors."

It is no doubt true that for the most part the lands were purchased, and, according to the idea of the English, honorably purchased, yet the natives could not fail to foresee the result of these cessions of territory. There were English settlements at Bridgewater, Middleboro', Taunton, Rehoboth, Seekonk, and Swanzey, all within the ancient jurisdiction of Massasoit. And as a perpetual monitor to Philip of his limited domains, though in obedience to a different and highly honorable motive, the people erected a fence quite across the neck of land on the south of Swanzey, and thus confined the Pokanokets by metes and bounds.

That Philip was annoyed by applications for land is evident from his letter, without date, addressed to Governor Prince of Plymouth:

"Philip would intreat that favor of you, and any of the magistrates, if any English or Indians speak about any land, he pray to give them no answer at all. This last summer he made that promise with you, that he would sell no land in seven years' time, for that he would have no English trouble him before that time. He has not forgot that you promise him."

The apostle Eliot, in a letter to the Massachusetts government, dated in 1684, asking that certain fraudulent purchases of the Indians might be annulled, puts this suggestive inquiry: "Was not a principal cause of the late war about encroachments on Philip's land at Mount Hope?"

The third disturbing cause was the desire of our ancestors to convert the Indian chiefs and tribes to Christianity. This was a primary and chief object of the settlement of the country. Governor Craddock, in a letter of February, 1629, to Endicott and his Council, says: "You will demean yourselves justly and courteously toward the Indians, thereby to draw them to affect our persons, and consequently our religion." And the Governor of Massachusetts colony by his oath was required to use his "best endeavor to draw on the natives of New England to the knowledge of the true God." The company in England also expressed the hope that the ministers who were sent out would, by faithful preaching, godly conversation and exemplary lives, in God's appointed time, reduce the Indians to the obedience of the Gospel of Christ. And there is no fact in the history of the colonists inconsistent with an earnest purpose to accomplish so desirable a result. But the most formidable and warlike of the Indian tribes resisted the introduction of Christianity, not on account of its doctrines,—these they never comprehended; but its acceptance was regarded by them as an acknowledgment of political inferiority. When Philip protests against the jurisdiction of the English, he thinks to establish his independence by asserting that he was never a praying Indian. It naturally happened that those Indians who embraced Christianity were more or less attached to the English, and soon assumed the position of dependent inferiors. They were consequently despised by such fierce spirits as swayed the Narraganset and Pokanoket tribes. But the English were instant in season and out of season in securing assent to their doctrines, though they must often have known that there was neither conviction of the head nor conversion of the heart. The colonists on some occasions even made a formal assent to the Christian faith a condition of allegiance.

Although Uncas never received the Christian religion, his friendly relations with the English gave him an importance and power which were offensive to the neighboring tribes; and there is reason to suppose that a desire to humble him was an element of the war.

The attack upon the Pequots, whether necessary or not, must have produced an unfavorable impression upon the neighboring tribes; but the death of Miantonomo was the cause of the undying hostility of the Narragansets, and made Canonchet the ready coadjutor of King Philip,— and without Canonchet Philip could never have been formidable to the English.

But passing by all the occasions or causes of war to which I have referred, we may presume from our knowledge of Philip's character, that he considered his personal injuries a sufficient ground for hostilities. Massasoit, his father, had been the firm friend but never the subject of the English. He was rather their protector, and the colonists ever maintained towards him the kindest feelings.

His son Alexander succeeded him. A suspicion was early entertained by the English that he was plotting with the Narragansets. He was summoned to appear at Plymouth, but he avoided the summons upon some pretence, which probably had no real foundation. The Governor of Plymouth with about ten men proceeded to compel his attendance. Alexander was then upon a hunting excursion with a small party of warriors. He was found in Middleboro', refreshing himself in a tent after the fatigues of the chase. His arms, having been left outside, were seized by the English. Some accounts state that Alexander went voluntarily towards Plymouth, others say that the Governor told him that if he did not go he was a dead man. But all accounts agree that he was soon violently sick, and that the efforts to relieve him were unavailing. He was allowed to return home and was borne away upon the shoulders of his faithful warriors. Hubbard says, "Such was the pride and height of his spirit, that the very surprisal of him so raised his choler and indignation, that it put him into a fever, which, notwithstanding all possible means that could be used, seemed mortal." And so it proved.

Philip witnessed this unjust arrest of his brother, chief of a proud and free race; he remembered his father's services and fidelity; he saw his people dispossessed of their hunting grounds, and an unknown religion zealously pressed upon them. To him there was in the present only humiliation and disgrace, in the future only ignominy and death. With this history and these gloomy anticipations of the future, Philip became the sachem of the Pokanokets. He had never been a favorite with the English, yet early in life they had named him Philip, and his brother Wamsutta, Alexander; a singular yet just appreciation of their high spirit and warlike character. The colonists justly regarded these young men as dangerous to the public peace, and there was never a moment of true friendship after the death of Massasoit.

The particular occasion of the war was the murder by Philip's agents of one Sassamon, an educated Indian, who had been his private secretary. Having in this confidential station obtained a knowledge of Philip's plans, he went to the English, by whom he had been educated, and probably disclosed his master's secrets. Philip secured his death, and of all who fell in fight or fray, or on the gallows swung, none deserved death before Sassamon. The comprehensive mind of Philip saw at once the terrible nature and probable consequences of the war thus brought upon him. It is said that he wept, and that from that time forth he never smiled. But he laid new sacrifices upon the altar of his people's liberty, invoked the spirit of his ancestors, and exhibited resources and courage worthy of a heroic age.

He stood in a position of great and manifest peril. The English were superior in numbers, comparatively well equipped, and above all united. They had garrisoned towns to which they could fly. Philip's own tribe was comparatively weak, but he easily associated the Narragansets with him. But this combined force was inadequate to the emergency. He united many of the tribes of Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Connecticut, and as far as possible animated them with his own unconquerable will. You may imagine him standing among the dark men of the forest and with a rugged yet burning eloquence reciting the history of their common wrongs, or with prophetic power lifting the veil from the shadowy, though not to him uncertain, future.

He was continually subject to great personal dangers. A price was set upon his head, the Christian Indians were allies of the English and continually employed against him, while above all Uncas and the Mohegans were his deadly enemies. Hunted by English and Indians, assailed by famine and treachery, weakened by death and desertion, his fate was inevitable. When his warriors had fallen in battle, been sold into slavery or corrupted by bribes, when his old men and women, and children had perished, when the first of the enemy had laid in ashes the wigwams and villages of the Pokanokets and their allies, when to his race there was neither seed-time nor harvest, he came to the home of his ancestors, and there his troubled spirit, contrasting sadly in death as in life with the placid scenes of nature around, passed forever away. He fell by the hand of his own race,—

"Darkly, sternly, and all alone A spoil—the richest and the last."

Philip's son, a boy nine years of age, was sold into slavery, and the royal race of Massasoit was extinct.

As all our information of Carthage and the Punic wars has been transmitted by Roman authors, so our knowledge of Philip and the war of 1675-6, is derived from partial and in some instances prejudiced sources. Yet it is just to say that our ancestors made no concealment of the facts, although the comments of Mather and Hubbard are often strangely barbarous in spirit. And further, we may be certain that our Pilgrim Fathers were true to the light that was in them; and that their memory will grow green with years and blossom through the flight of ages.

If to-day we have seen the bright side of Indian character, contrasted with the few harsh features of the New England colonists, it is that this occasion, while it calls forth feelings of gratitude and reverence for the men and history of the Past may have somewhat of a practical value in the Present and the Future. The men of the forest have not disappeared entirely, though