Raid on Deerfield

On the morning of February 29, 1704, before the sun had risen, French and Native American forces descended upon Deerfield, an English settlement in the Province of Massachusetts Bay. This assault, sometimes called the Deerfield Massacre, was led by Jean-Baptiste Hertel de Rouville. The attackers set fire to portions of the town and took the lives of 47 colonists. When they withdrew, they brought with them 112 captives, forcing them on a grueling overland trek of nearly 300 miles toward Montreal. Not everyone survived this journey; some perished or were killed simply because they could not maintain the pace. Eventually about 60 of these prisoners were bought back by their friends and relations, whereas others found new lives among Mohawk families at Kahnawake, gradually becoming part of that community.

During this era, it was common for English settlers and their native allies to launch comparable strikes against French communities situated along the contested northern borderlands. This assault fit the pattern of limited frontier warfare characteristic of Queen Anne's War. The combined force numbered French troops alongside roughly 240 Indian fighters, the majority being Abenaki people from present day Maine. Also present were Huron, or Wyandot, warriors from Lorette, Mohawk fighters from the mission village of Kahnawake, and several Pocomtuc individuals who had formerly called the Deerfield region home.

Because the attacking force drew from such varied backgrounds, motives, and goals, complete surprise eluded them once they breached the town's palisade walls. Certain fortified houses within the settlement managed to repel the attackers until reinforcements arrived, forcing the raiders to withdraw. Nonetheless, the operation proved a decisive success for the French and their allies, whose objectives centered on seizing captives and destabilizing English frontier communities. Over 100 people were carried off, and nearly forty percent of the village's dwellings lay in ruins afterward.

Even though tensions from the ongoing war made such an attack somewhat expected, news of it sent waves of alarm through New England's colonies. Hostilities intensified between the English and their French and native adversaries. Communities along the frontier moved quickly to strengthen their defenses and brace for further conflict. This event has endured in the story of early American frontier life largely because of a firsthand narrative published by one of its most notable captives, Reverend John Williams, who had served as Deerfield's principal minister. Williams, along with a good portion of his family, endured the difficult march to Canada. Among them was his young daughter Eunice, only seven years old, who was taken in by a Mohawk family, eventually integrating fully into their culture, marrying a Mohawk man, and raising a family of her own. Not long after gaining his freedom, Williams released his account, titled The Redeemed Captive, in 1707. The work found enormous popularity throughout the colonies and helped establish what would become known as the captivity narrative genre.

Raid

Roughly twenty-five to thirty miles north of the settlement, the attacking party abandoned the bulk of their gear and provisions, then set up a fireless camp roughly two miles from Deerfield on the night of February 28, 1704. From that hidden position, they watched the townspeople going about their evening preparations. Because word of a possible strike had already reached the villagers, everyone had gathered inside the palisade walls, and a sentinel had been stationed on watch.

The attackers spotted that snowbanks had piled up against the palisade all the way to its top, which made scaling the defenses much easier just before sunrise on February 29. They crept toward the settlement gradually, pausing at intervals so the guard might mistake their footsteps for natural sounds of the night. Several men used the snowdrifts to climb over the wall and then threw open the north gate for the others. The accounts from that era disagree about how watchful the sentry actually was; one source says he had drifted off to sleep, while another claims he fired his weapon to sound the alarm once the assault started, though few villagers heard the shot. Reverend John Williams would later describe how the attackers came "like a flood upon us" amid "horrid shouting and yelling."

The assault likely unfolded differently than the raiders had originally planned. During earlier raids on Schenectady, New York, and Durham, New Hampshire, during the 1690s, campaigns that also involved Hertel de Rouville's father, the attacking forces had struck every house at once. This coordination did not happen at Deerfield. According to historians Haefeli and Sweeney, the lack of a unified assault likely stemmed from the sheer variety of groups making up the attacking force.

Once inside, the raiders spread through the village, striking individual homes one after another. Williams's house was hit early on; he survived only because his gun failed to fire, and he was taken captive instead. Two of his children along with a servant lost their lives, while the remainder of his household and his other servant were captured. Two black men numbered among the raid's earliest victims. Much the same pattern played out in numerous other households. At the home of Benoni Stebbins, however, which had not been targeted in the opening wave, the occupants fought back against the attackers well past sunrise. Another house near the palisade's northwest corner also held out successfully. Throughout the village, the raiders herded captives toward a gathering point just north of town, plundered homes for valuables, and set several structures ablaze.

As morning wore on, part of the raiding force began heading north with prisoners, halting about a mile beyond the town to await stragglers still finishing their work in the village. Meanwhile, those defending the Stebbins house held out for two full hours, nearly reaching the point of surrender when help finally showed up from the south. Earlier in the attack, a young man named John Sheldon had slipped over the palisade and set off toward Hadley to spread word of the danger. Smoke and flames from the burning homes had already drawn notice, and thirty men from Hadley and Hatfield hurried toward Deerfield. Their approach caused the remaining attackers to bolt, some leaving behind weapons and gear in their haste.

This sudden retreat, paired with the arrival of help, lifted the spirits of the exhausted survivors. Roughly twenty men from Deerfield joined the Hadley contingent in pursuing the fleeing raiders. Fighting broke out between the colonists and the raiders in the meadows just north of the settlement, where the pursuers later claimed to have killed and wounded a good number of the enemy. However, the colonists soon stumbled into an ambush laid by raiders who had departed earlier. Out of about fifty pursuers, nine lost their lives and several others were injured. Following this ambush, the survivors withdrew back to the village while the raiders continued north with their captives.

Word of the attack kept spreading southward, drawing more reinforcements to Deerfield. By midnight, eighty men from Northampton and Springfield had reached the village, and by the close of the following day, troops from Connecticut had swelled their numbers to 250. After weighing the merits of pursuit, the assembled force concluded the dangers outweighed any potential gain. Most of the militia then returned home, leaving behind a sizable garrison to guard the village.

Seventeen of the village's forty-one houses were destroyed by the raiders, with many others plundered. Of the 291 residents present in Deerfield the night of the attack, only 126 remained by the following day. Forty-four Deerfield residents perished, including ten men, nine women, and twenty-five children, along with five garrison soldiers and se

Legacy and historical memory

Deerfield occupies what many call a special place in American history. Much like Mary Rowlandson's wid