They sat in a circle on sleeping bags and blankets, some cross-legged, others kneeling, with the Merrimack River flowing gently past in the background.
They spoke in calm, measured tones, explaining their common goal to reshape the narrative, a vision shared by both the Massachusetts and New Hampshire groups pushing to add a different perspective to Hannah Duston’s experience – one with more context and perspective and balance.
As the story goes, Duston was kidnapped by Native Americans in 1697 in Haverhill, Mass., home of one of the two 19th-century statues built to honor her. She escaped from captivity while here, at a small island in Boscawen, where the Contoocook and Merrimack Rivers meet, and that’s where the other statue of her is displayed, a towering figure glorifying the violence created during this historical, complex time.
She scalped 10 Native Americans, including six children, as they slept and escaped in a canoe. Granite scalps are clutched in her left hand here in Boscawen.
A meeting last week, just 25 yards from the 25-foot statue, was smooth like the gentle current nearby.
Paul Pouliot and his wife, Denise Pouliot, are the modern leaders of the Cowasuck Band of the Penacook Abenaki People and are members of a state committee charged with reinterpreting Duston’s legacy. The couple insisted that this latest meeting, the first in-person gathering in more than a year, was unofficial, drawing only 12 people.
But the two main sides were represented in that peaceful little circle. There were no obstacles or animosity visible.
“Their interest is to try to clean up any paint and they wanted to repair it,” said Paul Pouliot, referring to those related to Hannah. “They are not really pursuing an agenda against us. They want better signage and a few things that they want to clarify, things for their family, but we have not gotten there yet.”
Their meeting focused on a multi-year project to create an educational park, at both sites, where the communities can picnic, kayak, canoe and learn more about the sites’ histories.
And that history, some say, is murky at best. Hannah’s statue here was built in 1874, making it the first publicly-funded statue in New Hampshire. She’s also known as the first statue in the country dedicated to a woman.
That was fine, at least for a while. Hannah escaped with her life, killing her tormentors who were viewed as savages at the time.
Times have changed, however. The portrayal of Native American tribes as aggressors against peaceful colonists doesn’t capture the true history of the time.
And Hannah Duston’s life – if all goes as planned – is no longer a simple black-and-white snapshot. There’s more gray now.
“The only flashpoint is the use of the word murder,” Paul Pouliot said. “They (Hannah’s allies) ask, ‘Why not an act of warfare?’ But that’s getting too deep.”
That’s as contentious as things got during interviews for this story. Historians were there. So were the Pouliots, long the spark for changing the perception of what happened more than two centuries ago. There were history professors there as well.
And, of course, the two organizations – the Hannah Duston Advisory Committee and the Native American Commemorative Task Force, based in Haverhill, Mass. – were there to continue the process of creating a common narrative, building similar parks designed as a tool for history, not blame.
“It’s a slow process,” said Denise Pouliot, “but that’s because we are doing it right. We’re looking at five different properties that we’re looking to merge together to expand this block. It takes time.”
Added Dan Speers, chair of the Haverhill Task Force, “Our mission is to create a memorial to the indigenous people who lived in Merrimack Valley that will incorporate in some manner the Haverhill Duston statue, which is similar to the one here. That’s why we’re here, to see what they’ve put together and how we establish a link between our two groups.”
Research tells us that an influential author and minister at the time, Cotton Mather, quickly wrote the defining documentation of what happened.
He was a puritan, as Hannah was, at odds with worshippers who left the church of England and sided with French teachings. If that name sounds familiar, he was also a pivotal figure in the Salem Witch trials.
Duston’s supporters see it as Mather once did. Hannah was brave, a magnificent symbol of the pioneer woman, strong, brave and resourceful. She killed her blood-thirsty captors with total justification.
They had killed her baby. They forced her to walk for miles in the cold to get here. They were Indians, people who simply were in the way of American expansion. And at the time, bounties were given for scalps.
Readers of a story on Hannah three years ago in New England Today overwhelmingly supported her actions. Many were related to her.
Said one response, “I have shared this story with my four daughters to make them aware that they come from a line of strong women who were able to overcome adversity.”
People in that corner have not aired their concerns much during this process, perhaps afraid of being labeled closed-minded during sensitive times.
Craig Richardson, who was at the informal gathering, is a member of the Duston Family Association, and he’s intent on balance, while also acknowledging that the story as written should be viewed with a grain of salt.
“The story was presented in a very one-sided way,” Richardson said. “It’s sided in a way that focused entirely on Hannah. We certainly would like to have a more complete presentation of events at that time.”
He believes that Mather might have embellished parts of his story. On the death of Hannah’s baby, he said, “We can not even verify that.”
But he also stressed that there’s always another side. Perhaps Hannah was pressured toward violence because of the French-influenced Native Americans who turned their backs on the English church.
“When you look at that narrative and if you’re a Puritan, (Native Americans and the French) were infidels,” Richardson noted. “So when you look at that history, you can see Hannah was always under the Puritan thumb.”
That tone, that open-minded approach, that willingness to consider the times in which Hannah lived, permeated the entire meeting.
Denise and Paul Pouliot have secured agreements for four of the five parcels of land in the area.
“Each was owned by a different faction,” Denise said. “We were figuring out who owns what, and we’ve been merging the properties, so the last puzzle piece is here at the parking lot. That will be one of the last steps. Now, we’ll have the footprint so we can actually start.”
There’s no timeline here. Ideas need to evolve. The plan is to turn the entire region into a history class, explaining the climate at the time, the complex relationships between the Native Americans, the British and the French.
These were violent times.
Meanwhile, Hannah won’t be touched, beyond perhaps replacing the fencing that once surrounded the statue.
She’s been splashed with red paint and her nose is broken, but Hannah remains sturdy and tough, with an ax in her right hand, 10 Native American scalps in her left, and a piece of history that is part of a bigger challenge taking place in the country. In the days of inclusion.
“There is really no winner here,” Denise Pouliot said. “This isn’t about which person was the worst person. Everybody lost that day. This is not about finger-pointing.
“It’s about change.”