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Chapter
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Chapter XXI
The Mashpees
One of the strangest anomalies I've met, in my rambles
over Cape Cod, is an Indian township, owned and officered by Indians; its
schools and churches supported by Indians, and its public affairs
conducted by them. The town is called Mashpee — the aboriginal name of
the people that inhabit it — and lies in the southwestern corner of
Barnstable County, barely sixty miles from Boston, on the shore of
Vineyard Sound. Sandwich, Falmouth, and Barnstable are adjoining towns. In
area it comprises some sixteen square miles — or 10,500 acres — much
of it forest, lake, and marsh. The existence of this aboriginal township
is almost unknown to the general public, and its history is obscure though
interesting. Much of it is of a nature to make the white man blush for his
race.
At the time the Mayflower furled her sails off Cape
Cod, the Mashpees were spread over its entire surface, though their chief
villages were near the narrow neck that joins it to the mainland, in the
vicinity of the present Mashpee. After Sandwich and Barnstable were
settled the churches there began the work of
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The Mashpees
civilizing and Christianizing the Indians
in their midst. The Rev. Richard Bourne seems to have been the first
resident missionary, having been installed August 17, 1660, Eliot and
other ministers assisting. Before this, seeing that the Indians were
rapidly being despoiled of their lands by white settlers, he procured of
them a deed for some twenty-two square miles of land surrounding their
villages, intending that it should be entailed after his death for the
benefit of the Indians and their children. This was done, his son, after
the father’s death, procuring a ratification of the deed by the court at
Plymouth, and an entailment of the lands to the Indians and their children
forever, with a clause that the lands should never be sold without the
consent of all the tribe. This was the origin of the Mashpee reservation.
Mr. Bourne Was fairly
successful in his work. In 1674 he reported the number of
"paying" Indians at Satuit, Pawpoeset, Coatuit, Mashpee, and
Wakoquett as being ninety-five, of which twenty-four could read and ten
write. At the same time he confessed that many were loose in their course,
to his "heart-breaking
sorrow." His successor in the work was an Indian named Solomon
Popmonet, who served the people forty years. During his ministry, in 1711,
the Rev. Daniel Williams, of London, Eng., bequeathed by will a large sum
to be placed in the hands of the College of Cambridge in New
England," "for the work )f converting the Indians there."
The trustees of this
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fund have since devoted its proceeds largely to the
Mashpees, and it now forms the chief support of the resident missionary
among them.
From 1693 to 1763 the Indians appear to have lived
contentedly enough on their reservation, under the care of guardians
appointed by the General Court, although they retrograded in morals,
despite the efforts of the missionaries who resided among them.
Fire-water, the bane of the red man, seems to have been their greatest
enemy, and the negroes and renegade white men who flocked to the
reservation, intermarried and became members of the community, were a
fruitful source of corruption. The missionaries during this period were
the Rev. Joseph Bourne, Solomon Bryant, an Indian, and the Rev. Gideon
Hawley, of Stratford, Conn., who had previously been a missionary to the
Stockbridge Indians under Jonathan Edwards. Mr. Hawley was not favorably
impressed by the Mashpees on first coming among them. "The
Indians," he says, "appeared abject and widely different from
the Iroquois. They were clad according to the English mode, but a
half-naked savage was less disagreeable to me than Indians who had lost
their independence." In 1763 the General Court passed its first act
of aggression— an act erecting Mashpee into a district. By this law
the entire government of the tribe was confided to five Overseers, two
of whom were to be Englishmen, to be elected by the proprietors
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The Mashpees
in public meeting. The act also provided for the
election of a Town Clerk and Treasurer, both to be Englishmen. A
majority of the Overseers had the sole power to regulate the fishery, to
lease such lands and fisheries as were held in common for not exceeding
two years, and to allot to the Indians their upland and meadows. The law
was to continue in force only three years, but when the year 1766 came
the aggressions of the mother country occupied the entire attention of
the colony, and the act was not revived. It is said, however, that the
Indians still continued to choose their Overseers under the charter of
1763, though without authority, and that it was the only government they
had during the Revolution. In the struggle of the colonies for liberty
the Mashpees sustained a worthy part. Their petition to the Legislature
in 1835 recites that when a continental regiment of four hundred men was
raised in Barnstable County in 1777, twenty-seven Mashpee Indians
enlisted for the whole war. "They fought through the war," it
continues, "and not one survives. After the war our fathers had
sixty widows left on the plantation whose husbands had died or been
slain." They were also expert whalemen, and aided largely in
manning the whaling fleets of Barnstable and New Bedford.
In 1788 the oppression of the poor Mashpees began. in
earnest. The Legislature of that year repealed all former laws, and
placed them absolutely in charge of a
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The Mashpees
Board of Guardians, in whose selection the
Indians had no choice. There were at this time eighty families on the
reservation. This act reduced them to virtual slavery. The Guardians had
absolute control of their persons and property. They leased the Indian
lands and tenements, drew and regulated all bargains, contracts, and
wages, bound out children of both sexes to the whites without consent of
their parents, and could indenture to a master any adult proprietor whom
they should adjudge an idler or drunkard, and appropriate his earnings as
they saw fit. But this was not all. As years passed the lands of the
Indians and their fishing and hunting privileges became exceedingly
valuable, and excited the cupidity of the neighboring whites. Fishermen
came into the bays and inlets for the herring and mackerel that abounded
there. Their lakes and preserves were raided on, and the hay on their
meadows and the wood in their forests were cut and carted away with the
most unblushing effrontery. During all this time no provision was made by
the State for the education of the Indian children. They had no benefit of
the school fund of the State; were not even included in the census
returns, and the Indian children were bound out by the Overseers with the
understanding that they were not to be educated. In 1835, however, when
public attention was directed to the wrongs of the Mashpees, Massachusetts
partly atoned for past neglect by appropriating one hundred dollars
annually for the educa-
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tion of these helpless wards. Their share as a town would have been
but fifteen dollars.
By 1883 the Mashpees had become exceedingly restive
under this condition of affairs, and the bolder spirits among them were
earnestly longing for liberty. At length a village Hampden, Daniel Amos,
hip-master, more intelligent than his brethren, atured a plan for their
escape. A Methodist preacher, William Apes, a native of the Pequot tribe
of Connecticut, was the Cromwell whom he employed to effect his purpose.
Apes was a man of firmness, an eloquent speaker, and had the talent and
address which the Mashpees lacked. In the course of a visiting tour
among them, early in 1883, he preached for them, and was invited to
become their pastor, they having become dissatisfied with the preaching
of the settled missionary, the Rev. Mr. Fish. He consented, and early in
May settled among them as their pastor. On the 21st of May the Mashpees
assembled in their Council-house, and as their first act adopted Mr.
Apes as a member of the tribe. They next prepared two petitions, one to
the Governor and Council, complaining against the Overseers and the laws
relating to the tribe, and one to the corporation of Harvard College,
against the missionary. To these papers they affixed a series of
resolutions in the nature of a declaration of independence, as follows:
"Resolved, That we as a tribe will rule ourselves, and have the
right to do so; for all men are born free and equal, says
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the Constitution of our country."
"Resolved, That we will not permit any white man to come upon our
plantation to cut or carry off wood or hay or any other article, without
ourpermission, after the 1st of July next." "Resolved, That we
will put said resolutions in force after that date, with the penalty of
binding and throwing them from the plantation if they will not stay away
without." On the 25th of June succeeding they adopted a form of
government, concerted laws, and appointed officers, twelve in all, to
execute them. Having thus organized, they informed the Overseers and
public at large of their intentions by the following "notice":
"Having been heretofore distressed, degraded, and robbed daily, we
have taken steps to put a stop to these things; and having made choice
of our own town officers, . . . we
would say to our white friends, we are wanting nothing but our rights
betwixt man and man. And now rest assured that said resolutions will be
enforced after the first day of July, 1833" They then proceeded to
discharge the Overseers, missionary, and other officers appointed by the
State.
These proceedings excited the utmost surprise and
alarm among the neighboring whites, and a messenger was despatched to
Governor Lincoln at Worcester, apprising him that an insurrection had
broken out among the Mashpees, and praying for protection. Meantime the
first of July came, and the Mashpees,
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The Mashpees
finding a white man named Sampson carting woo from
their reservation, proceeded to put their resolutions in force. He was
asked to unload the stole property, and on his refusing three or four of
the Indian quickly unloaded the cart, the man being allowed t
depart unmolested. On receiving news of the
threatened insurrection Governor Lincoln despatched ar envoy to Mashpee
with instructions to call a council of
the tribe, listen to their grievances, and, if
possible, effect an amicable settlement The council was held, but in the
midst of its deliberations the High Sheriff of Barnstable County
approached William Apes with a warrant for his arrest, on charges of
riot, assault, and trespass, the complaint being brought by Sampson, the
man whose cart had been unloaded a few days before. The clergyman
quietly submitted and accompanied the Sheriff to Cotuit, where his
examination was conducted. He pleaded not guilty, nor were the charges
sustained by the witnesses brought against him, yet under an alleged law
against "constructive riot" he was bound over to appear at the
next session Df the Court of
Common Pleas for Barnstable County. The trial came off in due time, and
was perhaps the, most shameful perversion of justice that ever disgraced
he Bay State. The jurors were bitterly prejudiced against the prisoner.
The Judge, it was said at the time, had predetermined that he should be
brought in uilty; he was therefore convicted, and sentenced to
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The Mashpees
thirty days’ imprisonment with common felons in the
county jail. The sentence created much comment. The liberal press of the
State denounced it as an outrage, and eminent members of the bar spoke
of it as a travesty on justice. Apes quietly served out his sentence,
and by his martyrdom won the manumission of his brethren.
The publicity given this affair thoroughly informed
the Commonwealth as to the true status of the Mashpees before the law,
and the Legislature of 1884 partially righted their wrongs by erecting
the reservation into a district, and allowing them the right of choosing
their local officers. The odious feature of a Commissioner to supervise
their affairs was still retained, however, to the great dissatisfaction
of the people, and it was not until 1842 that the office was abolished,
and the Indians allowed to manage their affairs in their own way. Up to
that time the lands of the reservation had been held in common; now they
were apportioned among the "proprietors," each one, whether
male or female, receiving sixty acres as his or her own. Several
thousand acres remained undivided, and were sold in 1870 for $7,700 for
the benefit of the tribe. Universal suffrage made the Indian, as well as
the negro, a citizen, and in 1870
Mashpee was incorporated a town, and, has since continued to enjoy
municipal privileges.
Desirous of judging for himself of the present con-
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The Mashpees
dition and prospects of this ancient people, the
writer recently paid them a visit. Sandwich, on the Old Colony road, a
pretty village, noted for its production of fine glassware, is the
nearest point reached by railway, and there I took a carriage for the
Indian village, some ten miles distant. Our road led over the backbone
of the Cape, through the oak scrub so common to the region, but now
scorched and blackened by one of the terrible fires that periodically
ravage it. We could see the fire raging then, two or three miles to the
westward, and had learned before setting out that it had burned two or
three barns and farmhouses in West Sandwich the night before. We had
striking proof of its energy in the green leaves burned from the oaks to
their summits, and in the ease with which it had leaped the roadway to
continue its destructive work beyond. Near the verge of the burnt
district we saw a deep, wide trench leading into the forest, which the
driver — a
Mashpee Indian, by the way, and quite intelligent—
said extended for several miles, and had been dug
by the citizens to stop the spread of the flames. A little further on we
met a warden pacing his appointed beat, to see that no embers were
whirled over the line into the dry leaves, to start a new conflagration.
Six miles out we came to the crest of a hill and looked down upon a
beautiful lake some three miles long, covering the whole area of a
narrow valley. Its shores were irregular and wooded, and there were two
green islands in
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The Mashpees
its center. The driver called it Mashpee Pond, and
expatiated largely on the fine trout, pickerel, perch, and bass to be
taken in its waters. We swept around the eastern shore of the pond, and
in half an hour were at Mashpee a hamlet of thirty or forty one-story
cottages, most of them unpainted, and scattered about in the open
fields. The Rev. William Hurst, of the Baptist Church, is now the
resident missionary, and from him I gathered some interesting
particulars of the present condition of the Indians. There are some
three hundred and fifty members of the tribe now living in the town, of
whom only two or three are pure bloods. They live in some seventy
dwellings, scattered over the reservation. The church stands near the
center of the town, a plain edifice, differing little from the ordinary
country chapel. I was struck with the aptness of William Apes’s
description written in 1832 "The sacred edifice stood in the midst
of a noble forest, and seemed to be about one hundred years old. Hard by
was an Indian burial-ground, overgrown with pines, in which the graves
were ranged north and south. A delightful brook, fed by some of the
sweetest springs in Massachusetts, murmured beside it." Mr. Hurst
preaches to a congregation of from seventy-five to one hundred each
Sunday, and has a membership of sixty, only one of whom is white. He
derives his support in part from the Indians, but chiefly from the
Williams fund, which
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The Mashpees
yields an annual stipend of $550. There is a
parsonage and an acre of land belonging to the parish. A Sunday school
is held the year round. There are frequent temperance concerts and
lectures, and a lyceum is maintained in the winter.
Mr. Hurst reports his parishioners fully up to the
average of white communities in morals and piety.
The women are much more industrious than the men,
showing the force of inherited tendencies, but the latter are much more
ambitious and thrifty than formerly. They till their fields, hunt, fish,
pick berries, work on the cranberry bogs, of which there are several in
the town, and follow the sea. Two schools were kept in the town the past
season — one
by a young gentleman from Boston, the other by the pastor’s daughter,
the average attendance being seventy-six. I visited several of the
Indians at their homes. Solomon Attaguin, a tall, dignified, finely
formed old man, is chief among them, being postmaster, justice of the
peace, and tavern keeper. He favored me with a clear and intelligent
history of his people, differing little from the account given in the
books, and entertained me with accounts of his own prowess in the hunt,
and of the adventures of Boston sportsmen who had come down every autumn
to hunt deer and wild fowl. It seemed odd to hear of stalking deer
within sixty miles of Boston.
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