Chapter IV: Part 4

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.

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.

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.

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.

Rumors came thick and fast to the men of Plymouth that the savages were contemplating war, that they were oiling their guns, which they had purchased from the traders, and were sharpening their hatchets. The Plymouth Government was alarmed. "The Indians are impertinent in their bearings towards all Englishmen," wrote a prominent settler to the Governor, and so that officer of the crown sent word to Philip that he wished to see him and hold a conference with him at Taunton. At first the proud chief refused to come to meet the English, but he apparently changed his intentions, for on April 10th, 1671, a message was received from him, inviting the officers of the Plymouth Government to meet him in a "pow-wow," but demanding that two hostages should be sent him as a guarantee of his own safety. When these were received, he came to Taunton with many followers, and, seeing military preparations among the English in the town, took up a position upon the outskirts, near a mill, and refused to move from this ground until three commissioners sent from Massachusetts came out to meet him, and persuaded the now unfriendly chief that no harm would be done him if he came to greet the Governor. So, with glances of suspicion and distrust, the Indians entered the church where was the Governor, surrounded by soldiers in slouch hats with broad brims, long swords, iron breastplates and unwieldy guns. The followers of King Philip were naked to the waist, had their faces and bodies painted in many colors, and were, for the most part, armed with long bows and with quivers full of arrows, although a few who knew how to use them had guns in their hands.

"I charge you with warlike designs against us," said Governor Prince. "Many have told me that you and yours prepare for open hostility against the English."

In the dark eyes of Philip gleamed the fire of intense anger, as he replied:

"It is an untruth. I have sharpened my hatchets and arrows because I feared an attack by the Narragansetts, who are unfriendly to me and mine." As he spoke, the looks of defiance which his warriors cast at the English showed that if the soldiers should dare to lay a hand upon their chieftain, there would be certain bloodshed.

A long talk was now held, and, in the end, the defiant Sachem agreed to renew the old peace covenant between himself and the English, and to surrender all firearms into their hands as long as there was any suspicion of war upon their part. But he had no intentions of doing this and of thus placing himself at the mercy of the English, nor could he have forced his warriors to do so had he so wished, for the Indians had come into possession of large numbers of muskets which they used for killing game, and which they considered as much a necessity as their own clothes. Thus, although the conference ended in peace, the English soon took measures to enforce the compliance with its terms and so awakened intense hatred and anger in the hearts of King Philip's men. The guns of the Assowomsett and Middleboro Indians were seized by force; the Saconet braves were threatened with war if they refused to deliver up their firearms, and, as in September only seventy guns had been handed in to the Plymouth authorities, they again summoned proud Philip to appear before them and to give the reason why his men did not live up to their agreement. He did not appear before them until he was fully prepared to answer the accusations.

The charges against the Wampanoag Sachem were that he had neglected to bring in his arms; that he had refused to come to the English court when sent for; that he had harbored bad Indians; had been insolent to the Massachusetts magistrates, and had misrepresented matters to them. To these accusations he replied that he was as much a subject of the King of England as were the Plymouth Colonists themselves, which was true; that as he was a subject of the King he was not obliged to run at the beck and call of the Colonists, for they were only subjects as he himself was; and that he was unable to make his men give up their guns as they needed them for supplying themselves with deer meat and wild turkeys. His arguments were good, but he could not convince the hard-fisted magistrates of the righteousness of his cause.

"You must sign a new treaty with us," said stern Governor Prince. "And you must agree to pay tribute of one thousand English dollars every year in fur and peltries. Also bring us five wolves' heads a year and do not engage in war with other tribes, or sell your lands to others, without consulting first the Plymouth Council. As for delivering the guns to us, this you need not do, as you say that your warriors need them for obtaining game in order to live by, but, if you further insult our white ambassadors you must expect to smart for it."

"How! How!" muttered King Philip, as he withdrew. "Ugh! You English want everything your way, but it shall be as you say."

So, turning his face towards Mount Hope, he had soon disappeared into the forest and only the sighing of the wind in the pine branches came to the ears of the relentless counsellors, who, sure of their strength and resources, had begun to use force upon the weaker and less energetic race. They watched his retreating form with frowns of determination upon their brows.

For three years peace reigned in the forest. The Narragansetts, Wampanoags, and Nipmucks resigned themselves to the inevitable domination of the English, but hunters and trappers told of the sullen manner of the independent Indians and of the lack of stockades at the far distant towns of the interior. The great body of Colonists went upon their way in fancied peace and security, tilled the soil, cut down the trees of the forests, and broke new roads through the wilderness with no thought of danger. So low was the interest in the Provincial militia that no elections for military officers were held by the people and their officers were appointed by the general court. But suddenly an episode occurred which woke the slumbering spirit of war and again fired the angry passions of both red men and white. This was a murder.

There had been living among the Wampanoags at Nemasket, an Indian converted to Christianity by John Eliot, a Puritan missionary. This savage was named Sassamon, a cunning and plausible fellow, who accompanied King Philip to the last conference with the Governor, as an interpreter. He was close to Philip, was in his confidence, and hearing him speak often of a desire to go to war against the English, he one day journeyed to Plymouth, and told the people there to be on their guard, for the Wampanoag chief was determined to massacre them if he had a favorable opportunity. This alarming news was not believed by Governor Prince, "for," said he, "all Indians are, by nature, untruthful and wish to make you fear them." So the Puritans paid little heed to this information, especially as Philip, himself, soon came to the settlement, declaring that he wished for peace; that he had heard of Sassamon's talk; and that he wanted to tell them that such sayings were untruthful and absurd.

Today a few survivors of the Nemasket tribe of Indians live upon the edge of Assowomset Pond, four miles south of the village of Middleborough, Massachusetts, and on the surface of this quiet sheet of water was found floating the body of Sassamon, in the spring of the year. Bruises upon his body aroused the suspicions of the whites, who came to the belief that he had been killed during the winter and his remains thrown beneath the surface of the pond, in revenge for his treacherous talk. Three Indians were arrested on suspicion, but they claimed that Sassamon had been drowned while fishing and that the marks upon his body were caused by contact with the ice. In spite of this, they were called before a jury of whites and Indians, and, upon the evidence of an Indian who claimed that he was an eye witness of the affair, were sentenced to be hung. The last red man to swing for the crime confessed that the other Wampanoags had really murdered the red man and that he had been a looker-on, but not a participator in the deed. In spite of thus turning "States Evidence" he was first reprieved and then executed, and, although there was no actual proof of King Philip's connection with this terrible affair, it was evident that he had decreed that Sassamon should die as a fit punishment for his tale-bearing to the English settlement.

The execution of the three Indians aroused the angry passions of the Wampanoags to fever heat and they soon began to annoy the white settlers who had the misfortune to live in the neighborhood of Mount Hope. The peaceful folk at Plymouth now had rumors of ravage and excesses of all kinds. Houses were robbed while the men were in the fields at work; cattle were shot when they were beyond the hearing of the farmers' wives; corn was stolen; outbuildings were set on fire in the night, and sheep were mysteriously slaughtered. A Christian Indian came, one day, to Governor Prince, and said: "Strange warriors swarm to King Philip's village. His women and children are being sent to the Narragansetts. He and his men are thick as flies, and they are armed and ready for a long war." Alarm and terror spread among the far-distant settlements, and some persons of imaginative minds saw comets in the form of blazing arrows shoot across the skies, while the thunder of hoofs of invisible horsemen, and the whistle of unseen bullets, were heard upon the still air as the peace-loving villagers walked to and from their meeting-houses. "To arms! To arms!" was the cry, as the rumors of the Indian uprising grew more and more frequent, and the stern-faced Puritans oiled their Cromwellian muskets, cleaned out the fuse pans, and set their wives busily to work moulding leaden bullets. War--cruel, savage, relentless war, was soon to burst upon the white settlers of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut.

And, as we look upon the events which led up to this conflict, we see that King Philip and his men had good reason to make one desperate attempt to rid the country of the superior race of whites. "What can we do against you English?" Philip had said in a conference at Bristol Neck. "If we surrender our arms to you, you do not deliver them back to us without charging us a fine; you take our land away from us and pay us practically nothing. You cheat us whenever we have dealings with you. As we have no fences around our cornfields, your horses and cattle trample out our food. You sell our men liquor, get them drunk, and then, when they hurt the sober Indians and your cattle, you fine us so heavily that we must needs sell our land to pay it. When you English first came to our country, my father Massasoit was a great man, and you white men were weak and poor. He gave you more land than I now possess. Yet you seized upon my brother Alexander, forced him to come to you with a loaded pistol, and killed him by your cruel treatment. You will not believe the testimony of our brothers in your court, and every lying white man's tale against us is credited."