Bradford for obtaining corn from the Indians, and so perished the
last aboriginal of the Plymouth soil. He had been serviceable to the
English, but quite anxious to have credit for that fact among his own
countrymen, and on one occasion amused himself by telling his own
people that the whites kept the plague pent up in their cellars, and
that they intended to make war upon various tribes. This was done
in order that they would employ him to mediate between them and the
English for a certain sum, and, of course, when so hired, he always
succeeded in settling the difficulty.
As for Massasoit, his friendship for the English continued, for no
attacks were made upon the settlement during the entire winter. Early
in the spring of that year (1623), a runner came in from his settlement
bearing the news that the great Sachem lay dangerously ill at Sowams,
and begged that someone who had medical knowledge would come to his
assistance: a fact which showed that he put great faith in the superior
intellect and attainments of the English. So Edward Winslow was sent to
visit him, as a token of the friendship of the Colonists, and he was
accompanied by another English gentleman--a Mr. John Hampden--who had
some knowledge of medicine--who brought with him some cordials and
other alcoholic beverages.
The two Englishmen had gone but a short journey, when an Indian met
them who had tears in his eyes. "Massasoit is dead," said he. "The
great chief has gone to the happy hunting grounds." At this, the
Indian guide named Hobbammak, whom they had with them as guide and
interpreter, began to wail a death song. "O Great Sachem, O Great
Heart, with many have I been acquainted," he cried, "but none ever
equaled him. His like, oh, Master Winslow, you shall never see again,
for he was not false, bloody, and unpeaceable like other Indians,
but kind, easily appeased when angry, and most reasonable in his
requirements. He was a wise Sachem, not ashamed to ask advice, and
governed better with mild measures than other chiefs did with severe
ones. I fear, now that he is dead, that you have not one faithful
friend left in the wigwams of the red men."
"Time presses, Hobbammak," said Winslow. "Leave off wringing your hands
and your loud lamentations. We must trudge along, and hasten to the
tepee of Massasoit, for he may not now be dead and these stories may be
false."
So saying, they hastened on through the forest and soon came to a
village of a sub-chief called Corbetant, who was not at home. But his
squaw came running to meet the white men, crying: "Hasten, hasten,
Massasoit is not yet dead, but if you run quickly you will arrive in
time to breathe a prayer over his body."
The two Englishmen redoubled their speed, and soon arrived at
Massasoit's village, where they found the great Sachem's house so full
of his followers that they could scarcely get inside. The Indians were
making a "fiendish noise," while about the prostrate body of the chief
were six or eight women who chafed his arms, legs, and thighs to keep
the heat in them. But--seeing Winslow and Hampden in the doorway--one
of them cried out, "The English have come, O chief. Here are two of the
white men!"
Massasoit endeavored to look in their direction, but his sight was
wholly gone and he could see nothing.
"Who has come?" said he.
"Winsnow has come," said one of the Indians, who called the Englishman
by the name he was known by among the Wampanoags.
"Let me speak with him, then. Let me speak one word with him," muttered
the great Sachem.
Winslow stepped forward to the matted platform where he lay, and
grasped the feeble hand which the emasculated Indian held out to him.
"Art thou Winsnow?" whispered Massasoit. "Art thou, indeed, Winsnow? O
Winsnow, I shall never see thee again, for I go to the Great Spirit--to
the land of the Hereafter."
"I do not think that thee will die," said Winslow soothingly. "Here,
Hobbammak, bring me the cordials which I have transported hither for
the good King of the Wampanoags!" And as the guide presented them to
him, he soon poured some liquid into a cup and gave it to the weakened
Sachem. The effect was immediate. With several more drafts, the chief
began to show signs of renewed strength, and, after he had lain quietly
for an hour, he was so much improved that his eyesight began to return.
"Now I know that the English are my friends," cried Massasoit. "Now I
know that they love me, and while I live I will not ever forget this
kindness, and here, good Winsnow, bring me some English pottage from a
roasted fowl, as I have seen you English make at Plymouth, and I shall
grow entirely well."
This was done for him, and so much other care administered to the
sinking chieftain that his strength and appetite were wonderfully
restored. In two days' time he was up and about, while his attendants
showered Winslow and Hampden with expressions of gratitude. Meanwhile
the fame of the kindly Winslow, as a physician, spread so rapidly that
crowds gathered in an encampment around Montaup, in order to have him
prescribe for their various ills. Some, indeed, came from a distance
of from sixty to a hundred miles, and the readymade physician might
have remained with them indefinitely, had not rumors of a conspiracy
among the Pokanokets and other Indians of Massachusetts against the
settlement of Plymouth soon decided the two wayfarers to return.
Information of their plot was told to Hobbammak by Massasoit, who said
that he, himself, had been invited to join in it. "A chief was here at
the setting of the sun," said he, "and he told me that the palefaces
did not love me, else they would visit me in my pain, and he urged
me to join their war party. But I said no. Now, Hobbammak, go tell
Winsnow to take the chiefs of this league and kill them, and it will
end the war-trail in the blood of those that made it, and will save
the inhabitants of the settlement." This advice was afterwards taken
by Miles Standish and his men, who, with little difficulty, captured
and put to death the very Indians who had plotted against the peaceful
Puritans. But Winslow and Hampden, thinking that their presence would
be of far more value at Plymouth than at Sowams, quickly bade adieu
to the aged chieftain and were soon hastening towards the unprotected
settlement upon the seacoast which they had left behind them.
Nine years after this the Narragansetts went upon the warpath against
Massasoit, and attacked him so vigorously at Sowams that he was obliged
to take refuge in the wooden house which an Englishman had erected near
by. Here he held the enemy at bay, while one of his own braves bore
news of his predicament to the English at Plymouth, who immediately
sent an armed force to his relief under the command of Miles Standish.
The Narragansetts had learned to fear the guns of the Puritans, at
their cost, so, at the approach of the white troops, they quickly made
off into the woods. With joy and many tokens of gratitude, the Sachem
of the Wampanoags welcomed this deliverance and showered presents and
deerskins upon the rescuing white men.
The friendship of this famous chieftain was further shown the English,
when--during a period of great religious controversy--he gave a welcome
shelter to Roger Williams, a young Welsh, dissenting minister, who
was forced to leave the Puritan Colonists, because of differences
with them in respect to their religious beliefs. Williams had come to
Massachusetts in 1631, and had settled at Salem, where a struggling
band of Puritans had started a settlement. Here he soon came into
disfavor because he considered that the strict laws regulating the
doctrine and worship of the Puritans were too narrow, and openly
preached against the teachings of those who guided the spiritual
welfare of the Colonists. Several times he was told to appear before
the magistrates, and at last the general court, or legislature of
the colony of Massachusetts, pronounced the sentence of exile upon
him, because he had taught doctrines which "subverted the fundamental
state and government." It was determined to dispatch him to the mother
country upon a ship which was soon to leave for England, but someone
told the bold minister of this, so he escaped from his house in Salem,
in January, 1636, and, after wandering half starved and half chilled
for fourteen weeks in the dense forest, he finally reached Plymouth.
Here--with a few friends--he determined to make a settlement and begin
his life afresh. But now Governor Winthrop of Massachusetts wrote
to him--because he believed him to have been badly treated by the
Colonists--and advised him to make a home somewhere on Narragansett
Bay, and beyond the territory claimed by the other Colonists--advice
which Williams had the good sense to adopt. So with five companions,
in June, 1636, he paddled into the Seekonk, or Blackstone River, in a
canoe, and landed at the head of Narragansett Bay, where he founded the
city of Providence--so called because of his belief that he had found
it only by divine guidance.
This land had been given to him by Massasoit, with whom he had found
a refuge at Mount Hope during his wanderings in the wilderness, and
who had fed and housed him during the black storms of winter. The old
chief had showed him every care and attention, and had the greatest
friendship for this noble-hearted man of God, who had not only written
an essay upon the rights of the Indians to the American soil, which had
made him many enemies among the Colonists (because they considered it
an attack upon the King of England), but who had a real regard for the
savages. It is said that love begets love, and so it would seem with
Roger Williams and the Wampanoags. The Colony of Providence prospered;
each year brought it additional settlers; and, protected from the
attacks of savages by their friendship and high regard, the little town
soon grew in strength and prominence.
Perhaps the pleasantest picture that we have of this friendly Chief of
the Wampanoags is that presented by the first Thanksgiving ceremony
held by the Puritan fathers, in the autumn of 1621. After grave and
serious struggles with starvation and disease, the time came when the
white settlers had an abundance, not only for the present need, but
also for the future. Their corn crop had been ample, pumpkins and
fat squashes ripened upon their vines, and a quantity of codfish had
been caught and dried upon the beach. With houses now tight plastered
against the blasts of the elements, and with a stout palisade to
repel the attacks of any savages who might take the warpath against
them, they waited for the cold snows of winter with none of the dread
which had before consumed their spirits. So they prepared a great
feast of Thanksgiving, and to it invited Massasoit--their friend and
ally--who, in deerskin and feathers, came with several of his tribe to
the festival of rejoicing. With grunts of contentment the Wampanoags
feasted upon the supplies of the Puritans, who, laying aside their arms
and armor, mingled with the red men upon terms of the greatest freedom
and still further cemented the bonds of peace and good-will which
already existed between them.
Later on, the kindly disposed chieftain apparently associated his
eldest son with him in the government of his small tribes, for together
they came to Plymouth and requested that the Puritan fathers allow the
ancient treaty between them to remain as it originally had been drawn
up by the head men of the two races. So, too, their names are often
found together upon deeds of conveyance of land to the English. In
1649, Massasoit had apparently less need of his possessions than he
did of money, for he sold the territory of Bridgewater to the Plymouth
Colonists, and took in payment seven coats and a half of a coat, nine
hatchets, eight hoes, twenty knives, four moose skins, and ten yards of
cotton--a small recompense indeed for such a large amount of territory
disposed of, and one which must have been quickly used up. But he was a
mere savage whose wants were few, and, with no regard for the future,
or realization of the tremendous numbers of whites who were soon to
invade the land about him, he doubtless believed that his people
would have land and country enough to last them forever. In 1653,
another deed was made out by him, conveying a part of the territory of
Swansea to English grantees, and, as another record--in which his name
appears--is in 1661, it is apparent that he was alive as late as this
and still disposing of his ancestral holdings. But this is the last
trace of the great chief which has been left to posterity, so it is
evident that the kind-hearted and peaceable Massasoit--the true friend
of the Puritans--died about this time. He must have been at least
eighty years of age, and was beloved, respected and admired by both
his own people and those who would have been his bitterest foes had he
shown himself to be possessed of the same vindictive cruelty and hatred
as other Indian chiefs.
The fact that this eminent red man was beloved as well as respected by
his subjects and Indian neighbors, far and wide, is well shown by the
fact that a great concourse of anxious friends flocked about him during
the illness from which he was restored by good Winslow. "Some," says
this Englishman, "came from more than one hundred miles for the purpose
of seeing the great Massasoit before his death, and they all watched
him with as much anxiety as if he had been their blood relation. That
morning when he had partly recovered, he told me to spend my time in
going from one to another, in the town of Sowams, requesting me to
treat them as I had him, and to give to each of them some of the same
medicine that I had given to him, for they were good folks." It is
only too apparent, then, that he won the regard of his own race by
his kindness, for even though he himself was near death, his first
thought, upon his recovery, was for those about him who were ill and in
distress.
His wealth and residence were no better than the meanest of his tribe;
it is known that, with the exception of an ornament of bones around
his neck, he was no more luxuriously dressed than the poorest of his
subjects, yet the dignity and energy of his character was such that
he controlled their wild passions and hatred for the whites, because
of their personal confidence and affection in him. The authority of
Chief Sachem was the free gift of the Indians and could have been taken
away at any moment from him by the general vote of the people whom he
ruled, but, never, during his long life, was such an act contemplated
or apparently desired. As he must have been nearly eighty years of
age at the time of his death, his rule of the barbarous and savage
tribes was an extremely long one, and such was his influence for peace,
that, during his life, there was scarcely an instance of an individual
broil or quarrel with the English. Some of the Pokanokets--the Sachem
Corbetant, in particular--were extremely hostile to the Puritans,
even contemplating an attack upon Plymouth, and, although this
warrior openly defied them, and fought them, upon one occasion, he
was subsequently overcome with remorse and solicited the good offices
of Massasoit to reconcile him with the English. Such was the great
Sachem's influence over all the Massachusetts Chieftains that nine of
them went to Plymouth, at his request, and made overtures of peace to
the English, telling them that they recognized their possession to the
land, and their authority to the perpetual holding of it.
Massasoit, the Good, was not distinguished as a warrior, and he is
not known to have ever been engaged in any open hostilities with the
unfriendly tribes about him. It is, therefore, surprising that he could
have held the respect of the people, whose chief regard is for those
who excel in warfare. For forty-five years he was at peace with the
whites, and thus kept his tribe from the fate which befell every Indian
tribe in New England, which warred with the men of another race--they
succumbed to the superior ability of the men with muskets and ball.
All the native nations of New England save his were, for many years,
involved in dissensions and wars, not only with the whites, but among
themselves, and the Pequots, the savages of Maine, the Narragansetts
and the Mohegans continually fought and reduced their strength as if
their only desire was to exterminate the Indian race and prepare ample
room for the whites. "I _know_ that the English love me--I love them--I
shall never forget them," said the great Wampanoag to Winslow, after
his first recovery from the severe sickness from which that amiable
Englishman effected a cure, and thus, beloved by his own people and
by those who would have been bitter enemies, had they been treated
differently, the spirit of this kindly savage hovers over the dim
pages of early Massachusetts history, as a bright and lustrous spark
amid the gloomy reminiscences of this unfortunate period of bloodshed,
suffering, and race enmity.
KING PHILIP, OR METACOMET
One day old Massasoit came to the settlement at Plymouth bringing
with him two brown and sturdy Indian youths, and, taking them to the
Governor's house, he said, with a great show of good will:
"These are my two sons. You English make fine names. Better names than
Indian make. Ugh! Ugh! You give white name to my children."
"It shall be as you say," replied the obliging Governor, as he gazed
with much admiration at the two little Wampanoags. "I shall call one
Alexander, after Alexander the Great, and the other Philip, after the
other Grecian conqueror who bore that name in ancient history."
"Ugh! Ugh! It is well!" said Massasoit, and, after smoking a pipe of
peace with his friend, the Englishman, he returned to his quiet life at
Mount Hope.
[Illustration: KING PHILIP, OR METACOMET.]
Alexander--the elder of the two sons--ruled over the destinies of
his race after the peaceful death of his father, but, as he grew in
strength and intelligence, he saw the white men increasing in the land
of his ancestors, like locusts in the hot summer. Ship after ship
came over from England bringing cargoes of supplies and eager men,
anxious to obtain a foothold in the new country and build a home in
the wilderness. Plymouth became a good-sized settlement, Boston a
flourishing port, Salem a trading place from which ships sailed as far
as the West Indies; while at Deerfield, Northampton, and Hadley--far in
the interior of Massachusetts--clusters of log cabins and clapboarded
houses dotted the clearings.
The white men became more and more eager to possess the land of the
Indians; more greedy for farms; more harsh to the lazy, dreamy savages
who cared not for houses, for cattle, or for the luxuries of the
whites; but preferred their own simple life, the pleasures of hunting
and fishing, and their smoky, drafty wigwams. They were always at
leisure, all of their surroundings had been free to them before the
advent of the Puritans, their wants were few, and were easily supplied.
Now, clearings and farms began to spoil the once trackless forests;
where once they could roam at will, now those of another race had sown
their corn and forbade them to hunt and fish in the streams near by.
The silent woods echoed with the axe and saw of the toiling, energetic
men from a far distant land, and the Indian began to reflect upon the
future when all of his hunting grounds would vanish and he would have
to move farther inland, among the warlike Mohawks, if he wished to live
amidst the silence of the wilderness.
Wetamoo, a wealthy Indian Princess, became the bride of Alexander, and
as she had many followers and much wampum, the oldest son of Massasoit
became a man of as much prominence as his father had been before him.
His wealth made him arrogant, and stories came to the ears of the
settlers at Plymouth that he was plotting, with the Narragansetts,
to openly revolt against them and begin a war with those with whom
his father had been so friendly. Whether these stories were true, or
not, it is difficult to say; at any rate the Puritans believed them,
and so summoned him to attend the court at Plymouth and clear himself
of suspicion. He refused to pay any attention to these commands.
Major Winslow was, therefore, ordered to go to Mount Hope and arrest
him with the aid of ten well-armed soldiers who were to add to their
number as they proceeded through the settlements which lay between. He
had gone but a short way when he came upon the Wampanoag chief in a
hunting-lodge. Within were eight or ten warriors, all armed; but the
whites secured their guns, and entering the house, clapped a pistol to
the breast of Alexander, telling him that if he stirred or refused to
go, he was a dead man.
The proud Sachem was outraged at this treatment and violently upbraided
the Colonel who had taken him; declaring with passion that the Governor
had no right to believe the idle rumors which came to his ears from
lying savages, and that he would not stir. But the cold steel of the
pistol at his chest was reflected in the eye of the soldier who held
it. The Indian had no choice, and, when his first anger had subsided,
he went along moodily and in great dejection, with his attendants
following in the rear. A kind soldier offered him a horse, but he
said that he could walk as well as any squaw, and so proceeded to
Marshfield, where the night was spent. In the morning a high fever
raged in his veins. He was violently ill--so ill that it was thought
best not to move him by the physicians of the town, but when he
plead that he be allowed to go home, stern Winslow consented. He was
released, on giving his parole to return when next summoned, and so,
borne on a litter by his faithful men, he left his captors for his own
abode. His retainers had not carried him far before he died, amidst the
lamentations of those about him and the wailings of his squaw Wetamoo,
who declared that the English had poisoned her brave husband.
Thus Philip, or Metacomet--the second son of Massasoit--came to be
chief of the Wampanoags. He was about twenty-three years of age, tall,
strong, handsome, and with a spirit as proud and haughty as that of his
departed brother, who was so sensitive that he had perished as a result
of his own injured dignity. Had the English been kind and conciliatory
to the new Wampanoag chieftain, they might have gained his friendship
instead of his ill will, but the continual nagging which they subjected
him to increased his resentment against them and nurtured in him a
sullen distrust of all white men and those connected with them. One of
the new chief's earliest measures was to come to Plymouth and appear
before the court, thus following the example of his father and his
brother, for he pledged himself to use every effort to continue the
peace which had always existed between the Colonists and those of his
own race. For several years after this, the intercourse between the
settlers and Indians went on as before, but deep in the hearts of both
the red men and whites was a growing suspicion and distrust, which
finally came to a point in 1671, when Philip openly made complaint of
the encroachment of the English upon his hunting-grounds.