Governor Bradford

WILLIAM BRADFORD, the first historian of Massachusetts, was the official successor of John Garver, the earliest governor of the Plymouth colony. He entered upon his duties as chief-magistrate a few weeks before the States-General of Holland chartered the Dutch West India Company, under whose auspices the province of New Netherland, as we have observed, was first settled by Europeans.

Bradford was a native of Ansterfield, Yorkshire, in the north of England, where he was born in the year 1588. His pecuniary circumstances were easy, when he followed persecuted Puritans to Holland and became fully identified with them in exile. From early life he had been accustomed to their teachings; and at the age of seventeen years, he attempted to fly to the Netherlands, with some others, whither their harassed brethren had gone. Betrayed, he was seized and imprisoned at Boston, in Lincolnshire, for awhile, but finally escaped and joined the fugitives at Amsterdam, where he learned the silk weaver's art and pursued it. On receiving his patrimony, he entered into unsuccessful commercial operations, and lost a greater portion of it. When the establishment of a free colony in America was projected at Leyden, he was one of the most zealous promoters of the measure; and he and his young wife were among the earliest emigrants to that land of promise. Before a site was selected for a settlement, and while the May-Flower was yet riding at anchor in Cape Cod Bay, Mrs. Bradford fell into the sea and was drowned. That was the first death among the Pilgrims after their arrival on the coast of America. Shrewd, wise, active, humane and generous, Bradford was very popular; and he was in the chair of state almost continually from 1621 until his death in 1657, a period of thirty-six years.

We have observed toward the close of Chapter III of the Second Book, that the Pilgrims at Plymouth rejoiced in an abundance of food in the autumn of 1621, the first year of their settlement. Thereby their hearts were filled with gratitude, and after the fruits of their labors had all been gathered, the governor sent out huntsmen to bring in supplies for a general and common thanksgiving. That was the first celebration of the great New England festival of Thanksgiving, now annually held in almost every State and Territory of the Union in the month of November. Great quantities of wild turkeys and deer were gathered at Plymouth, and for three days the Pilgrims indulged in rejoicing, firing of guns and feasting--entertaining, at the same time, King Massasoit and ninety of his dusky followers, who contributed five deer to the banquets. Seven substantial houses had been built during the summer; the inhabitants were in good health; a few emigrants from England had come in a second ship, and there were happy homes in the wilderness the ensuing winter. Among the new comers was the Rev. Robert Cushman, one of the founders of the colony, who, in December, 1621, preached the first sermon in New England.

Governor Bradford's chief anxiety, at first, was for the establishment of friendly relations between the English and the Indians. That was already secured with Massasoit and his people; but Canonicus, the haughty chief of the Narragansets, living on Canonicut Island opposite the site of Newport, was loth to be friendly at first. To show his contempt for and defiance of the English, he sent a messenger to Governor Bradford with a bundle of arrows in a rattlesnake's skin. That was at the dead of winter, 1622. It was a challenge to engage in war in the spring. Like the venomous serpent that wore the skin, the symbols of hostility gave warning before striking--a virtue seldom exercised by the Indians. Bradford acted wisely on the occasion. He accepted the challenge to fight the multitude of savages, by sending the significant quiver back, filled with gunpowder and shot. "What can these things be?" inquired the ignorant and curious savage mind, as they were carried from village to village in superstitious awe as objects of evil omen. They had heard of the great guns at the seaside, and they dared not keep the mysterious symbols of the governor's anger, but sent them back to Plymouth in token of peace. The pride, if not the hatred, of Canonicus was subdued, and he and other chiefs humbly begged the English for friendship. But the alarmed colony spent the remainder of the winter and spring in fear, for Canonicus could send five thousand warriors to the field, it was said. The English, with much labor, built the fort mentioned in Chapter III of the Second Book, which served, also, for a meeting-house. And when tidings came of the massacre by the Indians in Virginia, in April (see Chapter I, Book III), every man worked diligently. Their houses were all barricaded, and "watch and ward were constantly kept."