MASSASOIT: THE GREAT SACHEM OF THE WAMPANOAGS AND FRIEND OF THE PURITANS
While the English were gradually settling their plantations on the James River in Virginia and were encroaching upon the land held by the Indians, other Englishmen, driven from home by religious persecution, and wishing to found a colony in the newly discovered country, had crossed the blue Atlantic to the rocky shore of Massachusetts, where they had landed, built their log houses, and had begun to wrest a living from a stern and unproductive soil. They were Pilgrims and were of a religious sect called Puritans, which was most unpopular in their native country. All were men of sturdy, vigorous natures.
These adventurers first went ashore upon the fifteenth day of November, and a few walked up and down until the sun began to draw low, when they hastened out of the woods in order that they might enter their boat which was drawn up upon the beach. By the time that they reached it, it was nearly dusk, so, after setting a watch, those who had landed lay down to rest.
About midnight they heard a great and hideous cry from out the woodland, and their sentinel called out, "Arm! Arm!" So they leaped to their feet, and, seizing some muskets which were beside them, shot them off. As they did so, again the terrible wail sounded from the forest.
"Woach! Woach! Ha-Ha-Ha-Hack—Woach!"
But this soon ceased, and all was quiet in the sombre woodland.
Nothing more occurred until about five in the morning, when one of the Puritans came running to the camp, shouting: "Men are coming to attack us! Indians! Indians!" And, as he spoke, a cloud of arrows came flying into the encampment. One savage was soon seen who fired at them from behind a tree, and an old Puritan took three shots at him with a musket.
The red man continued to shoot his arrows until suddenly he gave a terrific yell, showing that he had probably been hit. At any rate he retreated into the dense forest with the other braves, and nothing more was seen, or heard, either from him, or from them.
The Pilgrims breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the arrows—eighteen in all had fallen among them—and marveled at their make. Some were curiously headed with the horn of a buck deer, and others with the claw of an eagle. So they kept them, and, when the good ship Mayflower sailed for England, they sent these warlike tokens back with her to their friends upon the other side of the Atlantic. The Indians who had made this assault were Nansets, of whom Aspinet was the chief, but whether or not any of them were slain in the conflict does not appear in the ancient record of this combat.
After this affair the sober Puritans made their abode and sailed carelessly along the coast, looking for a good landing place, until December 11th, when they reached a spot which had a good harbor and some high ground beyond the beach which offered an excellent situation for a redoubt. So here they landed, built a long log house, and began their first settlement upon New England soil. They called their first home Plymouth.
With great toil and hard labor they erected other habitations for the settlers. Their first winter here was one of extreme hardship and suffering. Many died of starvation and exposure, and when spring came the survivors were so enfeebled that an attack by a strong band of Indians could easily have annihilated the entire settlement.
On March 16th, 1621, the chief men of Plymouth had assembled to discuss various matters of interest in connection with the welfare of the country, when an Indian was seen approaching. With long strides he walked down the village street, and, as the wary Puritans sprang to their guns, he held out his hands, and cried, "Welcome, Englishmen! Welcome!"
He was a tall, straight man, the hair on his head was black—short before and long behind—his countenance was open and friendly, while his carriage was graceful and imposing. He was thinly clad in deer skins, which must have afforded small warmth for the cold air of spring, and his moccasins gave scarcely any protection to his hardened feet. The Colonists laid aside their guns, when they realized that the savage was not armed, and grasped the outstretched hand of the friendly neighbor.
"We are glad to see you," spoke one of the hardy Englishmen, "and, as you have shown yourself to be friendly, we too shall be friendly."
"Come, seat yourself among us and partake of our humble fare!
"Ugh! Ugh!" grunted the savage, squatting down upon the ground, "I am Samoset, Pemaquid chief. My hunting ground on Island Monhegan, a day's sail toward the rising sun. Five days if go by land, near Penobscot River. Welcome, Englishmen, to country of Massasoit. I learn your tongue from white fishermen who come here not long ago."
This speech sounded as if it were true, so, feeling compassion for the poor, naked child of the woods, the settlers presented him with a hat, a pair of stockings, shoes, a shirt, and a piece of cloth to tie around his waist. They learned that the country around them was called Pawtuxet, and that, four years before their arrival, a terrible pestilence had swept off all the tribes which had inhabited this district, so that, as none were left to claim the soil, it would be perfectly possible for the English to do so. Samoset also told them that their nearest neighbor was a powerful Sachem called Massasoit, who was chief of the Wampanoag tribe, as well as head sachem of the Pokanoket Confederacy of thirty allied tribes. This mighty chieftain was disposed to be friendly, continued Samoset, but neighboring Indians, called Nansets, had been greatly angered by the English, because some years before, a certain Captain Hunt had kidnapped over twenty of their number and sold them into slavery. It would, therefore, be well for the settlers, said the obliging Samoset, if they had no dealings with this particular clan, but restricted their trade and intercourse with the followers of Massasoit. After a lengthy discussion of the climate, the country, and the people, the friendly savage departed with smiles and bows, which showed that he was apparently much pleased with the reception which the English had given him.
The unwarlike visitor soon returned with four others, who also professed to be friendly, and who sang and danced in an open space before the settlement to amuse the sturdy and determined Puritans. Among them was Squanto, an Indian who spoke excellent English, because he had been among those whom the English, under Captain Hunt, had kidnapped and sold into slavery in Malaga, for eighty pounds (four hundred dollars) each, but had been ransomed and liberated by kind-hearted monks and sent to England. Here, at Cornhill, he learned to make himself understood in very good English, and obtained the friendship and sympathy of a wealthy merchant, who housed him, fed him, and eventually shipped him back to his native shore in a sailing vessel, commanded by Captain Thomas Dermer. This stout old sea-dog found that all of Squanto's race had died of a pestilence (probably smallpox) and, therefore, delivered him to Massasoit, whose loyal subject he became, and with whom he was now living. The Indians disposed of a few skins and fish, and then departed, telling the settlers that the great chief Massasoit, with his brother and all his warriors, was near at hand.
The first appearance of the Chief of the Wampanoags was upon the 22d of March, 1621, when he arrived upon a hill opposite Plymouth, with sixty warriors gaudily arrayed in their best deerskin raiment. Massasoit is described by one of the settlers as being "a very lusty man, in his best years, with an able body, grave of countenance and spare of speech." In his attire he differed little from the rest of his followers, save that he wore a large chain of white bone beads about his neck which had suspended from it behind a little bag of tobacco. His face was painted a darkish red, and both his head and face were so oiled that he looked very greasy. The only weapon upon his person was a long knife swinging from his bosom by a string; although his attendants carried war clubs, knives, and bows and arrows. Some of his followers—all tall, strong men—were painted black, others red, yellow, and white. They were dressed in furs or skins of various kinds, and made a very good showing—such a good showing, indeed, that the English feared an attack and stood prepared for any sign of violence that the Wampanoags might offer.
The Indians seemed to be unwilling to approach any nearer, and, as they hesitated, the English determined to find out why they would not advance. As luck would have it, Squanto was in Plymouth, so he was dispatched to ascertain their designs, and they gave him to understand that they wished to have some one sent to hold a parley with them. So Edward Winslow was selected to go over to their position with presents to the sachem and with directions to endeavor to patch up a treaty of peace. Winslow was an excellent diplomat; he addressed them in a speech of some length, and, although the Wampanoags listened with much gravity, it is doubtful whether or not they understood it thoroughly, although an Indian interpreter explained the gallant Winslow's words, after he had spoken. The Englishman told them that King James of England sent his best and kindest regards to Massasoit, his brother, and that he hoped to have him as his friend and ally. Furthermore, that the Governor of Plymouth wished to see him and to treat with him upon terms of the greatest friendliness. Massasoit listened with polite attention, and seems to have made no special reply to this harangue, but to have gazed upon the sword and armor of the Captain with envious eyes.
"I wish to buy your iron breastplate and your war instruments," said the old chief, through the interpreter, as Winslow paused for breath. "What do you wish for them?"
The Captain smiled with good humor. "They are not for sale, my friend," said he. "For I need them sorely in my duties among my own people."
"I will go among them," said Massasoit, rising. "And I will leave you with my brother, while I and twenty of my men walk over to the English camp."
So saying, he crossed the brook between him and the English, taking twenty of the Wampanoags, who were directed to leave their bows and arrows behind them. Captain Miles Standish and another Puritan, with six armed men, met him beyond the water, exchanged salutations with the majestic Indian, and took him to one of the best houses in the village. A stone arch has, in late years, been thrown over this brook to show where this first meeting between the great chief and the whites took place, while the hill upon which the Indians camped—called "Strawberry Hill"—is still pointed out to those who are interested in the history of America.
In the cabin to which Massasoit was conducted a green rug was placed upon the floor and three or four cushions were piled upon it, in order to make it comfortable. After the noted chieftain had gone inside, the Governor of Plymouth entered the house, followed by several soldiers who beat a drum loudly and blared upon a trumpet, which delighted and astonished the Wampanoags. The Governor hurried up to the Sachem, and seizing him in his arms, kissed him upon the cheek, a salutation which was immediately returned by the chief, and, considering the fact that he was covered with both grease and red paint, it could not have been a very satisfactory affair for the Englishman. He made no grievance, however, and commanded that all seat themselves at a long table, upon which a feast was spread. After a sumptuous repast, in which "strong waters, which the savages love only too well," were served, a treaty was concluded, with the following terms:
1st. That neither Massasoit nor any of his people should do any hurt to any of the English.
2d. That if any Indian should injure an Englishman, the offender would be sent to Plymouth in order that he might be punished.
SITTING BULL.
3rd. That if anything were stolen from the Indians, the Governor of Plymouth would cause it to be returned, and the Indian would do likewise toward the English.
4th. That if any unjust war were brought against the Wampanoags, the English would aid them in defeating their adversaries, and that if anyone unjustly warred against the English, Massasoit would aid them.
5th. That in case of actual warfare, the English Governor would send confederates to warn Massasoit of the fact.
6th. That whenever the English came to the camp of the Wampanoags, they should leave their arms behind them.
7th. That if Massasoit should do this, King James of England would consider him as his perpetual friend and ally.
This seemed to please the great Sachem greatly, for he not only agreed to it, but acknowledged King James of England to be his Sovereign, and gave him all his adjacent lands for his subjects to live on forever. It was a treaty upon peaceable and honorable terms; the Indians came to Plymouth to make it of their own free will, and, although for all the land which they granted to the English they received only a pair of knives and a copper chain with a jewel in it, a pot of "strong water," a quantity of biscuit and some butter for Quadepinah—the brother of Massasoit—it is pleasant to know that this agreement was unbroken for fifty years. Massasoit, himself, did well to obtain the friendship of the English, for the powerful tribes of Narragansetts were his enemies, and they were now afraid to attack his camps. The Puritans also benefitted from this agreement, as they obtained an opportunity for profitable trade in peace and seclusion.
There were about twenty different tribes in New England, at this time, and, although mainly independent of each other, they sometimes united for the purpose of making war upon a common enemy. The Pequots, Narragansetts, Pokanokets, Massachusetts, and Pawtuckets were the more powerful, although the Mohegans, the Nipmucks, and Abenakis of Maine were also prominent. The Pequots numbered only about four thousand, in all, while the Narragansetts of Rhode Island—with about one thousand warriors—were next in point of numbers. The other tribes were smaller still, so it can be readily seen that this band of hardy pioneers could, with their armor and firearms, have competed in battle with even the most powerful of these, although, should all have combined against them, their doom would have been sure. Massasoit's people, the Wampanoags, were a part of the Massachusetts Indians, and lived between Plymouth and Narragansett Bay. They were sometimes called Pokanokets. To the south they had the Nansets, as neighbors, on Cape Cod; the Pennacooks, on the northern frontier extending into New Hampshire; and the Nipmucks in central Massachusetts extending into Connecticut and Rhode Island. The Pawtuckets, who had been nearly destroyed by the great pestilence, were north of the tribes of Massachusetts, and included the Pennacooks and other small clans. Massasoit's home was at Mount Hope, where now stands the town of Bristol, Rhode Island, a seaport upon the wide waters of Narragansett Bay.
After the famous treaty between the Wampanoag Sachem and the English had been drawn and signed, Massasoit was conducted back to his own people by the Governor himself. Hostages were left behind and soon his brother Quadepinah came down the brook with a retinue of followers. He, too, was well entertained and so well pleased that, upon the day following, Standish and Allerton—two of the more prominent Englishmen—were invited to come to the Indian camp, where they were regaled with three or four groundnuts and some tobacco. In return for this kind treatment, the Governor of Plymouth sent for the chief's kettle and returned it filled to the brim with peas, a vegetable which the Wampanoags had never before seen. This pleased Massasoit mightily, and, next morning, he and his entire retinue returned towards their own homes, with laughter, smiles and many evidences of good feeling towards the Puritans.
Squanto—the only survivor of the tribe of Patuxets who had originally lived here—became an intimate and valued friend of the English. He taught the Puritans how to plant maize, or Indian corn, and how to enrich the soil, by spreading over it the remains of alewives—fish which ran up the brooks in April to spawn. This proved a great value to the Colonists, for the wheat and peas which they had brought from England with them, turned out to be almost worthless. Later in the year the Indian guided two ambassadors (Winslow and Hopkins) across the country to Massasoit's chief village of Pokanoket (now Warren, Rhode Island), in order that the treaty of peace which had been made with them might be confirmed. It was in summer—a period of softness and beauty in Massachusetts—and so the two Puritans, as they journeyed through the undulating country, studied its character and soil and became acquainted with the situation of the neighboring tribes. Game was plentiful, especially wild turkeys, which have long since disappeared from the Atlantic Coast, and those left behind by the hardy emissaries were busy with fishing, deer hunting, and watching the corn crop. This grew well, was cut and stored for the winter, and, with an abundance of dried fish and jerked venison, the Colonists looked forward to a much better winter than that of the year previous.
Shortly afterwards, the Narragansett Indians sent a bundle of arrows tied together with the skin of a rattlesnake to the Colonists, and—although these were known to be most warlike of all the surrounding tribes—in token of defiance, the skin was stuffed with powder and ball, and returned. An attack was now expected and so a palisade was erected outside the row of huts, but, although the Narragansetts were evidently at no loss to understand the meaning of the answer which the Puritans had sent, they left the settlement alone.
At the first Indian town to which the two ambassadors came, they were greeted by the Wampanoags with generous but humble hospitality. The Indians gave them cold cornbread, fish, and boiled, musty acorns. After the meal, Winslow shot at a crow with his musket, and, as he killed it at quite a distance, the natives were greatly astonished and amused. With a show of true kindliness, the two Puritans were directed to another Indian town, some eight miles distant, where they were welcomed by a party who were catching great numbers of fine bass in the Taunton River, and who not only gave them a supper but also a breakfast next morning. Attended by six of their hosts, upon the following day, they were crossing the river, when two old Indians upon the opposite bank ran swiftly and stealthily among the high grasses to meet them, and then with loud voices and drawn bows demanded who they were. Seeing that they were friends, their hostility turned to welcome, and, instead of shooting at them, the unfriendly braves gave them food. In return they received a small bracelet of beads. After one other stop the travelers reached Sowams, or Mount Hope—the home of Massasoit.
The great Sachem was not at home, at first, but soon arrived, to be greeted by the two Englishmen by the discharge of their muskets. This startled the aged warrior, but pleased him also, so he welcomed the two guests with kindness and took them to his lodge. After seating themselves, the Englishmen delivered to their host a coat of red cotton heavily embroidered with fine lace, and a long chain of copper and beads. The chief immediately put this on—much to the astonishment of the Wampanoags—who gazed at him from a respectful distance with awe and unspeakable admiration, as he listened to the message from the English governor. This was to the effect that the Puritans trusted that the peace which so far existed between them should be continued, and that, as Massasoit's people (particularly his women and children) came frequently to Plymouth and were always most welcome, the Colonists feared that their corn would be insufficient in the future to give them proper entertainment. So the Governor requested that Massasoit would not be angered, if, in the next months, the Colonists did not feed his Indians as sumptuously as heretofore, when they came to them upon a visit. But if Massasoit himself should come to Plymouth, or any friend of his, he would be welcome and most hospitably received. "Furthermore," said Winslow, in closing, "I trust that the Pokanokets, who have furs, shall be permitted to sell them to us, for we can send them to our brothers in England, in exchange for many things which we need in the colony."
"I hear the good speech of my English brother," said Massasoit, "and it pleases me much to see them with me. You ask me to keep my people from Plymouth until you know the abundance of your harvest. That I will do, for do not I command all the country about you? Are not all the towns about here of my dominions and the people in them? And, if I shall tell them to bring me their skins, that they will do. I have thirty settlements which I rule over, and they shall do as I command."
"Thank you, good chief," replied Winslow. "I am sure that what you say shall be followed out. Now let us smoke the pipe of peace and further cement our friendship."
To this the friendly chief seemed to be agreeable, but, after the pipe had been passed around, it was seen that the hour was late, and consequently Massasoit offered the two ambassadors a bed in his own cabin. He and his wife slept at one end upon a plank platform, raised a foot or two from the ground and covered with a thin mat, and the Englishmen were requested to find a sleeping place upon the other end. This they did, but so hard was the flooring, and so vicious were the Rhode Island mosquitoes that both scarce slept at all, particularly as two Indians, whom the Sachem had placed outside as a bodyguard, walked up and down during the entire evening, vigorously slapping at the buzzing insects and making such a noise that it was impossible not to be kept wide awake.
Finally morning dawned, and the two unhappy men were soon breakfasting on cornbread and boiled water, while numerous Indians began to stream into camp from neighboring settlements. By noon a goodly number had arrived, and Massasoit—with true hospitality—made them all seat themselves and partake of a meal of boiled fish, which he himself had speared with arrows as they swam in the Taunton River. Afterwards the savages held a running race and other games, until the descending sun warned them that evening was approaching. Then with many grunts, smiles, and protestations of affection, the visiting braves departed to their own homes. The two Englishmen also begged to be excused, as the barbarous singing of the Indians at night, coupled with the buzzing and stings of mosquitoes, made them long for quiet Plymouth where netting of twine was stretched over the windows to keep out the pests. So they also said adieu to kind-hearted Massasoit, who bade them a warm and tender farewell.
In March, 1622, an incident occurred which came near putting an end to this strong friendship between the Wampanoag Sachem and the English, for an Indian came rushing breathlessly in among a party of Colonists, with his face gashed and the blood running from it, calling out to them to run quickly to shelter, as his countrymen were on the warpath. They eagerly questioned him, and were told that the savages, under Massasoit, were congregating at a certain place in order to make an attack upon the colony and that he had been wounded by them because he had opposed their base designs. Immediately the Puritans ran to arms and prepared for a stout defense of Plymouth, although a Pokanoket Indian named Hobbammak, who made his home with the Colonists, stoutly denied that the fugitive had spoken the truth. "Send you to Sowams, the home of Massasoit," said he, "and you will soon find that this story is false. I know that Squanto has caused this man to run to you, thus."
"This I will do," said the Governor, and forthwith dispatched a messenger to the Sachem's residence, who arrived only to find that everything was in its accustomed condition of peace and tranquility. He consequently told Massasoit of the reports circulated against him, which enraged the good Sachem tremendously and caused him to utter many uncomplimentary remarks about Squanto, whom—it was understood—had instigated the action of the Indian out of a spirit of malicious mischief. "Let me but catch this Squanto," shouted Massasoit, "and I will teach him not to meddle with my own private affairs. But go tell the Governor of Plymouth," he continued, "that I am glad to hear that he himself has not believed the idle talk of this lying Indian. Tell him that, if any conspiracy against him ever does take place, I myself will be the first to send him word of it." And with these declarations of strict friendship and integrity ringing in his ears, the messenger returned to Plymouth and quickly quieted the fears of the waiting Colonists.
Squanto died in November on an expedition fitted out by Governor 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.