By spring about half of the colonists, including Governor Carver and Rose Standish, wife of Captain Miles Standish, had died. Notwithstanding all the sufferings, however, not one of the Pilgrims went back on the Mayflower when she sailed for England. But so weak had the colony become through loss of able-bodied men, that corn was planted on the graves to keep the Indians from learning how many had died.
One day in early spring, the Pilgrims were startled by the sudden appearance of an Indian, Samoset by name, who cried in English, "Welcome, Englishmen." A week later he returned with a friend, named Squanto,[6] who had formerly lived at Plymouth with other Indians, all of whom had been swept away by a plague.
Squanto was glad to get back to his old home once more. He afterward came to live with the Pilgrims, acting as their messenger and interpreter and showing them how to hunt and how to catch fish. From him they learned how to plant corn. Putting one or two herring as a fertilizer in every hill, they would watch for a while to prevent the wolves from digging up and eating the fish, and in due time would have an abundant return.
About a week after Samoset's first appearance, he returned and announced the approach of Massasoit, an Indian chief living at Mount Hope, some forty miles southwest of Plymouth. Captain Miles Standish marched out with his men to escort the Indian chief to meet Governor Carver in an unfinished house. The Pilgrims had spread upon the floor a green mat, which they covered with cushions for the chief and the governor. When the chief, who was a man of fine presence and dignified bearing, was seated upon the cushions, Governor Carver was escorted to the place of meeting by the Pilgrim soldiers, amid the beating of drums and the blowing of trumpets. After the governor had kissed the chief's hand, the two men agreed to be friends and keep peace between the white men and the red. The friendship thus romantically begun lasted for more than fifty years. Before Massasoit's departure the Pilgrims gave him two skins and a copper necklace.
As summer came on the condition of the Pilgrims improved. There was much less sickness, and food was more easily obtained. On the arrival of autumn the corn and barley planted by the Pilgrims yielded a good return, and ducks, geese, wild turkeys, and deer could be secured by hunting. When Massasoit with ninety men came to see the Pilgrims in the autumn, the Indians brought some deer and the Pilgrims furnished food from their supplies, so that a three days' feast was held. This was the first celebration of the New England Thanksgiving.
But not all of the Indian neighbors were so friendly as Massasoit and his tribe. Canonicus, chief of the Narragansetts, sent to Plymouth an insolent greeting in the form of a number of arrows tied with a snake's skin. The Pilgrims on their part stuffed the snake's skin full of powder and bullets, and in defiance sent it back to Canonicus. So deeply impressed were the Indians by this fearless act that they let the whites alone.
Believing it wise to be prepared against Indian attacks, however, the Pilgrims surrounded the settlement with palisades, and erected on "Burial Hill" a building, on the flat roof of which cannon were placed, the room downstairs serving as a meeting-house.
Energetic in practical affairs, they were equally zealous in religious observance; for they were very regular in their church attendance. Their Sabbaths began with sundown on Saturday and lasted until sundown on Sunday. The beating of a drum on Sunday morning was the signal for the men to meet at the door of Captain Miles Standish's house, from which they marched three abreast, followed by their governor in a long robe, with the minister on his right and Miles Standish on his left.
After the men came the women, then the children, and last of all the servants. On entering the church they sat in order of rank, the old men in one part of the church, the young men in another, mothers with their little children in a third, young women in a fourth, and the boys in a fifth.
The services lasted all the morning; then, after an intermission for lunch at noon, they began again and continuing all the afternoon. But on the coldest days of winter only foot-stoves were used to heat the meeting-house. Nor was this the only discomfort the Pilgrims had in their church worship. For even these good people found it sometimes hard to remain awake during the long services. And it was the duty of the constable to see that all kept their eyes open. If this official saw a boy asleep he rapped him with the end of a wand; if he saw a woman nodding he brushed her gently with a hare's foot, which was on the other end of the wand.
The Pilgrims held their town meetings in the meeting-house, where they held their religious services. At town meetings all the men wore their hats. In voting they used corn and beans, a grain of corn meaning yes and a bean meaning no.
Such was the life of the little company of true-hearted men and women at Plymouth. Small in number as they were, they remained brave in spirit, amid surroundings which tested all their powers of endurance. For several years Miles Standish did valiant service there, and then went to live at Duxbury, where he was soon joined by some of his Pilgrim friends, among whom was John Alden. Here the good captain remained the rest of his life, except when he was needed as military leader by the colony. He died many years later,—in 1656,—leaving behind him a good name with the Pilgrims and the rest of the world.
The Englishmen who settled in New England.
Puritans and Separatists.
The Separatists escape to Holland.
The Pilgrims leave Holland for America.
Difficulties in their way.
The voyage of the Mayflower.
Miles Standish made military leader.
The stout-hearted Captain Miles Standish.
The grim Pilgrim soldiers.
Captain Miles Standish heads a second exploring party.
Indian mounds; Bradford in the deer-trap.
A dangerous expedition.
A night in the woods; Indians.
A struggle for life on the storm-swept sea.
A suitable place for settlement.
Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers at Plymouth.
The busy builders of log-houses.
In the homes of the Pilgrims.
The suffering Pilgrims.
Samoset; Squanto; Massasoit visits the Pilgrims.
A Thanksgiving feast.
Indian enemies.
The Pilgrims at church services.
The meeting-house.
Death of Captain Miles Standish.
1. What do you admire in the character of Miles Standish, and what did he do for the Pilgrims at Plymouth?
2. Trace on the map the wanderings of the Pilgrims.
3. Write an account of the "Dangerous Expedition" of the ten picked men who set out on December 16th, in search of a place for settlement. Picture to yourself the following: the party lying by the big fire under the trees with the barricade about them; the Pilgrims on their way to church; and Massasoit entertained by Governor Carver.
4. Describe a Pilgrim dwelling and its furniture.
5. Compare the Pilgrims with the Jamestown settlers.
For years after the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth (1620) their number grew so slowly that by 1630 the population was only three hundred. After that year they began to increase more rapidly, by reason of neighboring settlements made by the Puritans at various places on the Massachusetts coast.
We have already seen that the Puritans in England were dissatisfied with the English Church, and that they wished to purify some of its forms and beliefs. But they did not succeed in their purpose because the Stuart Kings of England, James I. and Charles I., bitterly opposed the Puritan movement. For a long time the Puritans held their meetings secretly in such out-of-the-way places as private houses and barns. At length, encouraged by the success of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, they decided to leave their homes in old England and try to form a new England across the Atlantic.
These Puritans were not, like the Pilgrims, poor men of little influence, for some of them had been educated at Oxford or Cambridge, some were wealthy, and some were connected with distinguished families. All were of sterling character, ready to undergo hardship for the sake of their religion.
In 1628, therefore, some of the leading Puritans formed a trading company and, having bought a tract of land in America from the Plymouth Company, sent out settlers to occupy it. The first settlement was at Salem with Endicott as leader. Two years later eleven vessels sailed with nearly 1,000 Puritans, bringing with them horses, cattle, and stores of various kinds. They located at Boston, Dorchester, Charlestown, and other towns near Boston. John Winthrop, their leader, was the first governor.
Each of these settlements constituted a township, which usually included an area of from forty to sixty square miles. Within this tract settlers lived in villages, in the centre of which stood their meeting-house, used not only for a place of worship but for all kinds of public meetings. Near the meeting-house stood the block-house. This was a rude, strongly built structure, where the people of the village could take refuge in case of attack from Indians.
Extending through each village was a long street, and on either side of it stood the settlers' dwellings with their small farms stretching back in the rear. These dwellings, which in early years were only log huts, afterward gave place to high-roofed frame houses. All were simple, solid, and neat.
Upon entering one of these early Puritan homes we should find two principal rooms, the "best room" and the kitchen. In the kitchen the thing of special interest to us would be the fireplace, large enough for a back-log five or six feet long and two or three feet thick. In this great fireplace a Puritan housewife could roast an entire sheep. As stoves were unknown in these olden days, all cooking was done at this open fire, and it was by such firesides that the Puritan boys and girls used to spend the long winter evenings. While the logs blazed the mother and daughters would knit, or spin, or quilt, and the father would read his Bible or smoke his pipe. At this family hearth there was also much good cheer in cider-drinking, nut-cracking, and story-telling, especially when the family was fortunate enough to have a stranger present as a guest. At such times the children were always good listeners.
But much as it was prized, a visit from a stranger was a rare occurrence, for as there were no carriages or public conveyances of any kind, long journeys were seldom made. When travelling by land the settlers sometimes went on foot and sometimes on horseback. In the latter case the men sat in front and the women on a pillion behind. For carrying supplies, sleds were used in winter and ox-carts in summer.
Since travel was so difficult, there was very little communication between distant villages unless they happened to touch upon the sea. But frequently this was not the case, for many of the settlements, following the courses of rivers, extended inland rather than along the coast.
When a stranger did appear, however, he was always welcome, for he was sure to bring some bit of news from the world outside. Perhaps, if he had travelled through the woods, he might tell of some dangerous adventure with wild beasts or Indians. If in midwinter he dared to make the journey, he might tell how he spent a cold night in some deserted wigwam, into which he had been driven by howling wolves. Such thrilling chapters from the book of every-day life were of special interest to people whose experience was very narrow and monotonous. For in those days there were no newspapers and few books.
We should make a great mistake, however, were we to imagine that the Puritans did not value books and reading. They appreciated reading and education so much that every town was required to have a school. As a consequence of this excellent system, there were very few people who could not read and write.
The study of the Bible was an important feature in all this school training, and absorbed much of the thought of the Puritan mind, especially on the Sabbath. The Puritan Sabbath, which began at sunset on Saturday and ended at sunset on Sunday, was largely given up to church worship. All work and travel, not absolutely necessary, were suspended, and no playing on a musical instrument was allowed. Two instances will illustrate the severity of the Puritan ideas of Sabbath observation. The first is that of two lovers, who were brought to trial because they were seen sitting together on the Lord's Day under an apple-tree. The second tells us of a Boston sea-captain who was put into the public stocks for two hours because he kissed his wife on the Sabbath Day upon the doorsteps of his house. He had just returned after a two years' absence on a sea-voyage.
In all this strictness about Sabbath observance, the Puritans were wholly sincere. To them purity of religion was the supreme interest of life. They had left their old homes in England that they might worship according to their own belief in a community under the control of Puritan ideas.
But it was no easy matter for them to arrange the affairs of Church and State just as they wished, even in this new Puritan commonwealth. For they found some of the settlers unwilling to believe and act in accordance with Puritan ideas of right and wrong.
One of these troublesome persons was a young man who came with his bride to Salem in 1631. This young man was Roger Williams. He was born in England in 1599. An Englishman of influence secured for the clever lad a scholarship in the Charter-House school, from which young Roger later went to Cambridge University. Having become a Puritan, Roger Williams, like so many others of his faith, found it wise to leave England. He came to America in order that he might escape religious persecution and enjoy religious freedom.
On reaching New England he went to Salem, and was there appointed a minister of the church. After a very short time he left Salem, and went with his family to Plymouth. Remaining there for two years, he became deeply interested in the Indians, and began the difficult task of learning their language. He wrote afterward, "God was pleased to give me a painful, patient spirit to lodge with them in their filthy, smoky holes to gain their tongue."
In this way he acquired a good knowledge of the Indians, whom he learned to love and who learned to love him. Little did he realize that this warm friendship would in after years save not only his own life but also the lives of many other Puritans.
While winning the friendship of the Indians, Roger Williams incensed the Puritans by saying in strong language that they had no just claim to the lands they were living on. He said that the King had no right to grant to any company these lands, because they had never belonged to him. The Indians, and only the Indians, owned them. It is needless to say that such arguments made many bitter enemies for the youthful preacher.
Of course he could not continue in this severe criticism of matters so important to the Puritan heart without losing many of his friends. The wrath of the Puritans at length became so great that they tried him in court and banished him from Massachusetts. As he became ill about this time, however, he was told that he might remain in the colony through the winter if he would not preach. But as soon as he grew better his friends, who were very fond of him, began to spend much time in talking with him at his home in Salem, where he now lived. The Puritans, fearing his influence, determined to send him at once to England.
When the heroic young minister heard of this, he hastily said good-by to his wife and two children—one of whom was a little girl two years old and the other a baby—and looked for safety in the home of his old friend Massasoit, living near Mount Hope, seventy or eighty miles away.
The outlook was dreary enough. It was midwinter (January, 1636), and the snow was lying deep upon the ground. As there was no road cut through the forest, Roger Williams had to depend upon his compass for a guide. To keep himself from freezing, he carried with him a hatchet to chop kindling wood, and a flint and steel to kindle it into flame. Thus fitted out, he started, though still weak from his recent illness, with a staff in his hand and a pack on his back, to look for his dusky friend, Massasoit. This long journey in the bitter weather of a New England winter was indeed a trying experience to the lonely traveller. He wrote long afterward, "Steering my course, in winter snow, I was sorely tossed for one fourteen weeks in a bitter winter season, not knowing what bed or bread did mean." Having found Massasoit, he spent much of the winter in the wigwam kindly furnished him by the Indian chief.
In the spring he began to erect buildings at Seekonk on land given him by the Indians. But his friend, Governor Winthrop, having secretly sent him word that Seekonk was in the territory belonging to the Massachusetts colony, he decided to go elsewhere.
Accordingly, he and five of his friends rowed down the river and, landing at a place pointed out by the Indians as having a spring of good water, made a settlement, which they called Providence, in token of God's watchful care over them. This was the beginning of Rhode Island, a colony where all men, whatever their religious belief might be, were welcome. Men who had been persecuted elsewhere on account of their religion were glad to go to Rhode Island, where they were allowed to worship as they pleased. And thus it soon grew to be a prosperous settlement.
Roger Williams was a man of pure and noble soul. He did not seem to bear any grudge against the people of Massachusetts. For when, in 1637, the Pequots tried to get the Narragansett Indians to join them in a general uprising against the whites, and especially against those living in Massachusetts, he did all he could to frustrate their plans. At this time he set out one stormy day in his canoe to visit Canonicus, chief of the Narragansetts, and succeeded, at the risk of his life, in preventing the union of the two tribes against the whites.
He died in 1683 at the age of eighty-four years. Although his judgment was not always wise, his motives were upright. In his struggle with the Puritans he was ahead of his age, which was not yet ready for such advanced ideas of religious toleration.
Small number of Pilgrims at Plymouth.
The Puritans decide to go to America.
They are people of influence in England.
The Puritan settlers in Massachusetts.
The New England village.
The meeting-house; the block-house; the great fireplace.
Modes of travel.
The stranger welcomed.
Education.
Puritan ideas of Sabbath observance and religious worship.
Roger Williams comes to New England.
He wins the friendship of the Indians.
He makes Puritan enemies.
The Puritans banish Roger Williams.
He escapes in midwinter.
A lonely journey through the forest.
Roger Williams makes a settlement at Providence.
He prevents the Narragansetts from joining the Pequots in their war.
Death of Roger Williams.
1. Picture to yourself the New England village; also the big fire-place with the Puritan family gathered about the blazing fire at night.
2. What do you admire in Roger Williams? How did he make many Puritan enemies?
3. Write an account of his midwinter journey through the woods.
4. Tell how he befriended the people of Massachusetts at the outbreak of the Pequot War.
5. How did the people of Providence feel about religious freedom?
The Pilgrims and Puritans were not the only people who had to suffer persecution in England because they did not believe in the doctrines and forms of worship of the Established Church. Under the leadership of George Fox there sprang up (about 1669) a peculiar religious sect called by themselves Friends and by others Quakers. These people were severely punished on account of their religious ideas.
The central doctrine of their creed was that they were in all things led by the "inner light," as they called conscience, which revealed to them the will of God. Believing that all men were equal before the law, the Quaker always kept his hat on in public places as a sign of equality, refusing to uncover even in the presence of royalty. Other peculiar tenets of the Quakers were their unwillingness to take an oath in court; to go to war; to pay taxes in support of war; the use of "thee" and "thou" in addressing one another; and, as a protest against the rich and elegant dress of their time, the wearing of plain clothes of sober colors.
Their disdain of familiar customs made them appear very eccentric, and their boldness of speech and action frequently brought upon them the punishment of the law. But they were fearless in their defiance, and even eager to suffer for the sake of their religious belief, some being fined, some cast into prison, some whipped, and some put to death. Not only in England, but in Massachusetts also, they were treated like criminals. The Puritan fathers hated and feared them so much that they banished Quakers from their colony, and even put some of them to death on account of their views on religion and government. But, as always, persecution only seemed to spread the faith, and soon this derided and abused sect included eminent converts.
Among the most prominent was William Penn, who was born in London in 1644, the son of Sir William Penn, a wealthy admiral in the British Navy. Conspicuous service to his country had won him great esteem at Court, and he naturally desired to give his son the best possible advantages.
At the early age of sixteen, young William was sent to Oxford, where his studious habits and fine scholarship soon distinguished him. He became proficient in Greek and Latin, and learned to speak with ease the modern languages, French, German, Italian, and Dutch. Devoting a part of his time to athletics, he became a skilful oarsman and a leader in various out-door sports.
While he was at Oxford, Penn heard Thomas Loe, a travelling Quaker, preach. The new doctrines, as expounded by Loe, took so deep a hold upon him, that he refused to attend the religious services of his college.[7] For this irregularity he was fined, together with some of his companions who were of the same mind. Disregarding the reproof, these conscientious young men even refused to wear the required college gown, and committed a yet graver offence against their college by tearing off the gowns from some of their fellow-students.
By reason of these bold and unruly proceedings the college authorities expelled Penn in disgrace. His father was very angry at what he deemed his son's folly, and knowing that neither rebuke nor persuasion was likely to swerve the young man from his purpose, Admiral Penn decided to send William to Paris, with the hope that in the gay life of the French capital he might forget his Quaker ideas.
Penn was now a strongly built young man of eighteen, with large eyes and long dark hair falling in curls about his shoulders. For a brief time he gave himself up to the fashionable social life of Paris. Later he engaged in study at school for something like a year, and then spent another year in travelling through France and Italy. When he returned to England after two years' absence, he was a cultivated young gentleman, very different from the sober youth who on leaving Oxford had been called by his companions "a Quaker or some other melancholy thing."
The following year, however, Penn's gay spirits were disturbed by the awful plague that fell upon London. The Admiral, noting the serious look and manner of his son, again sent him from home—this time to Ireland—for diversion. While Penn was in Ireland an insurrection broke out, and he volunteered as a soldier. Military life evidently appealed to him, for he caused a portrait of himself to be painted, in full armor.
While still serving as a soldier, Penn learned that the Quaker, Thomas Loe, was preaching near by, and went to hear him once more. The Quaker ideas now took complete possession of him, and he embraced the new religion with his whole heart. A little later, when he was arrested in a Quaker meeting-house and thrown into prison, his father was indignant because William had brought upon his family such humiliating disgrace.
After William's release from prison, however, the stern old Admiral in his great love for his son said he would forgive his peculiar customs if only he would remove his hat to his father, to the King, or to the Duke of York. But on praying over the matter, Penn said he could not do it. One day, on meeting the King, he had the boldness to stand with his hat on in the royal presence. Instead of getting angry, the fun-loving King Charles laughed and took off his own hat. "Why dost thou remove thy hat, friend Charles?" said William Penn. "Because," answered the King, "wherever I am it is customary for one to remain uncovered."
But the Admiral's patience was by this time exhausted. He drove his wilful son from his presence, and told him to begone for all time. Fortunately for William, his mother begged for him, and so did others who recognized the earnest and sincere purpose of the young Quaker. His father therefore forgave him once more, and allowed him to return home.
From this time on William Penn used his influence—which was by no means small—in behalf of the persecuted Quakers; but he had to suffer the consequences of his own fearlessness. Many times was he thrown into prison, there to remain, it might be, for months. Yet even in prison he spent his time in writing books and pamphlets, explaining and defending the Quaker religion. Indeed, his labors were unceasing, so firm was his faith in Quaker ideas.
Soon his power for doing good was immensely increased. In 1670 his father died and left him a princely fortune which, true to his generous nature, he determined to use for the good of others, and especially for the good of the despised and persecuted Quakers.
The Crown owed Penn's father about £16,000, which the King, with his extravagant habits, was not likely to pay for many a day. William Penn, therefore, decided to ask the King to pay the debt not in money but in land. The good-natured Charles, thinking this was an easy way to cancel the obligation, readily granted to William Penn an extensive tract of land lying on the west side of the Delaware River.
Penn wished his new possession to be called Sylvania, or Woodland, but the King insisted upon calling it Pennsylvania, in honor of Penn's father. Upon receiving his grant, Penn at once sent word to the Quakers that in Pennsylvania they could find a home and a resting-place from their troubles.
Penn's leading aim was to plant a self-governing colony, whose people should have justice and religious freedom. Hundreds of Quakers eagerly took advantage of the favorable opportunity which Penn thus offered to them. During the year 1681, when the first settlement was planted in Pennsylvania, something like 3,000 of them sailed for the Delaware River. The next year Penn himself sailed for America, although he left his wife and children behind.
He selected the junction of the Delaware and Schuylkill rivers as the site for his city, and called it Philadelphia, or the City of Brotherly Love, in token of the spirit which he hoped might prevail throughout his colony. He laid out the city most carefully, giving the streets such names as Pine, Cedar, Mulberry, Walnut, and Chestnut, after the trees he found growing there.
When the first settlers came to Philadelphia, some of them lived in caves which they dug in the high river-banks. The first houses, built of logs, were very simple, containing only two rooms and having no floor except the earth. Philadelphia grew so fast, however, that by 1684 it had 357 houses, many of which were three stories high, with cellars and balconies.
As we might expect from a man of his even temper and unselfish spirit, Penn treated the Indians with kindness and justice, and won their friendship from the first. Although he held the land by a grant from the King of England, still he wished to satisfy the natives by paying them for their claims to the land. Accordingly, he called a council under the spreading branches of a now famous elm-tree, where he met the red men as friends, giving them knives, kettles, axes, beads, and various other things in exchange for the land. He declared that he was of the same flesh and blood as they; and highly pleased, the Indians in return declared that they would live in love with William Penn as long as the sun and moon should shine.
Penn paid the Indians friendly visits, ate their roasted acorns and hominy, and joined them in their sports. One day while they were leaping and jumping in his presence, he suddenly "sprang up and beat them all."
Penn soon returned to England, but many years later (1699) he came back to Pennsylvania with his wife and one daughter. As he was very wealthy, he had two homes, one in the city and another in the country. His country home, which was northeast of the city on the Delaware River, cost him $35,000. In this house were elegant furnishings, and here, in his large dining-hall, Penn lavishly entertained Englishmen, Swedes, Indians, negroes, and passing strangers who called at his door. We are told that his table was so bountiful that at one of his feasts the guests ate a hundred roast turkeys. The grounds about his country home were magnificent, containing various kinds of fruits and flowers, and in his stables were many horses.
But notwithstanding these material blessings, Penn's life was not without trials and disappointments, which it is needless to dwell upon. Owing to his warm friendship for King James, he was suspected of plotting in his favor after the King was forced to leave England in 1688. He was therefore more than once arrested, but in every case he was set free for lack of evidence against him. Many years later, on his refusal to pay a false claim made by his steward, he was thrown into prison, where his health was broken by confinement. He died in 1718. His life had been a hard struggle, but it had been successful, and had come to an honorable close.
The Quakers and their peculiar ideas.
Punishment of the Quakers in England and in Massachusetts.
William Penn's father, Admiral Penn.
William Penn at Oxford University.
He turns Quaker.
Admiral Penn sends his son To Paris.
William Penn returns to England.
He becomes a soldier in Ireland.
He is thrown into prison.
The stubborn young Quaker.
Penn's mother begs for him.
The King's grant to William Penn.
The Quakers settle in Pennsylvania.
The City of Brotherly Love.
Penn's kind and just treatment of the Indians.
His home life.
His last days.
1. Give some of the peculiar ideas of the Quakers.
2. Why was Penn thrown into prison? In what ways did he give evidence of his stubbornness?
3. Why did he wish to settle Pennsylvania? Imagine the scene when under the elm-tree Penn met the Indians and made a treaty with them.
4. Tell something about his home life.
5. What do you admire in Penn's character?
6. When did the Quakers settle Pennsylvania?
The same year in which William Penn laid out Philadelphia and there made a treaty with the Indians, a noted Frenchman sailed down the Mississippi River, exploring it in the interests of France. This man was Robert Cavelier, Better known as La Salle, who, like many of his countrymen, was trying, just as the Spaniards and Englishmen had tried, to find or do something in America that would not only bring glory to his own name, but also wealth and honor to his fatherland. We have now to consider the work of the French in America.
In 1534 Cartier, a French explorer, discovered the St. Lawrence, and sailed up the river as far as an Indian village on the present site of Montreal. He took possession of Canada in the name of the French King, and his favorable reports led to several unsuccessful attempts to plant settlements there.
More than seventy years after the discovery of the St. Lawrence, another French explorer, Samuel de Champlain, sailed up the noble river. Much impressed with the great beauty of the St. Lawrence Valley and its wealth of forests and furs, he longed to bring all this vast new country under the control of France. In 1608 he planted the first permanent French settlement in Canada, at Quebec, and the following year discovered the lake which bears his name.
Although Champlain loved his country and desired to increase its glory and power, he made an unfortunate blunder, which proved fatal to the best interests of France in the New World. In planting the settlement at Quebec, in 1608, he found that the neighboring tribes of Algonquin Indians were bitter enemies of the Mohawks, one of the Five Nations, or Iroquois, who lived in New York.
The Algonquins begged him to join them in an attack upon the Mohawks, and he unwisely consented. Having gone up Lake Champlain with a canoe-party of sixty Indians, he landed near the site of Ticonderoga to fight a battle with two hundred hardy Mohawk warriors. Champlain, clad in light armor and gun in hand, advanced at the head of his war-party and, shooting into the ranks of the astonished Mohawks, who stood in battle array, brought to the earth two of their chiefs. The others fled in terror and confusion, while their enemies, Champlain's dusky allies, yelled with joy, and filled the woods with their terrible warwhoops.
From that day, however, the Iroquois were the bitter enemies of the French, and this enmity seriously interfered with the successful carrying out of French plans. Having control of the St. Lawrence River, France greatly desired to get control of the Mississippi River as well. Once securing possession of these two great streams, she would come into possession of the wealth of the North American Continent.
But the Iroquois Indians were strongly posted in the Mohawk River Valley, and thus held the key to the situation. In this way they blocked the path of the French, who wished to reach the Ohio and the Mississippi through Lake Erie and Lake Ontario. So the French were driven to seek a route farther north, a route which was much longer and more difficult. It would be well for you to trace on your map this roundabout way, which extended up the Ottawa River into Georgian Bay, through Lake Huron and Lake Michigan, across into the Illinois River, and through that into the Mississippi.
In the same year that Champlain made the Iroquois bitter enemies of the French, Henry Hudson won their lasting friendship for the Dutch. About the time the Frenchman was fighting in the battle against the Mohawks at Ticonderoga, Hudson, with a crew of twenty men in the Half Moon, was sailing up the river that now bears his name. Instead of finding the short passage to the Pacific, for which he was searching in the interests of the Dutch, he discovered the great water-way to the interior. Having received just treatment from him, the Iroquois Indians became his friends and the friends of the Dutch settlers and traders that came later.
From that time, in fact, these Iroquois Indians were as ready to sell their furs to the Dutch and to the English, who in 1664 took New York away from the Dutch, as they were to oppose the French and compel them to go many hundred miles out of their way in the tedious explorations in search of the Mississippi.
This toilsome work of exploration was largely accomplished by the Jesuit missionaries. Fearless in their heroic efforts to advance their faith, they suffered all sorts of hardships, many being put to death, in their earnest struggle to bring religious truth to the ignorant red men of the woods. In their journeys through the forests and over the lakes, these Jesuit Fathers made many valuable discoveries and explorations which they carefully recorded in their journals.
It was one of these missionaries, Father Marquette, who succeeded in reaching the waters of the Mississippi. Attended by Joliet and five other Frenchmen, he went, in 1673, as far down the mighty river as the mouth of the Arkansas. This was sixty-five years after Champlain made his settlement at Quebec.
But the most important of all the French explorations were made by the daring and tireless La Salle. He was born in France in 1643, and belonged to an old and rich family. Strong in mind and character, he received a good education, and became an earnest Catholic. With a heart ready to brave any danger in the achievement of glory for himself and for France, this young man at the age of twenty-three sailed for Canada.
His plans, as finally worked out, were twofold: (1) To build forts and trading centres at various points along the St. Lawrence, the Great Lakes, and the Mississippi; and (2) to plant a colony at the mouth of the Mississippi. Wishing to get control of the rich fur trade for France, his forts and his colony would help to protect and further this trade, which could be carried on more easily by way of the Mississippi, than by way of the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence. For along the latter route lay the hostile Iroquois, who were friendly to the Dutch and the English; and, moreover, the St. Lawrence was ice-bound nearly one-half of the year.
Early in August, 1679, after long and weary efforts spent in preparation, La Salle launched on the Niagara River above the Falls, his little vessel, the Griffin, of forty tons burden, which was to bear him through the lakes on his way to the Mississippi.
Nearly a year before starting, La Salle had sent up the lakes fifteen men to trade for furs. He expected them to have ready, against the time of his arrival, a cargo of furs to be sent back to Canada. For La Salle needed a great deal of money with which to buy provisions, ammunition, and tools, and to pay his men for their services. Besides, he wished to get cables, anchors, and rigging for a new vessel to be built on the Illinois River, for the purpose of making his expedition to the mouth of the Mississippi. The expected cargo of furs, taken back and sold in Canada, would give him the money he needed to carry out his plans.
Having arrived at the head of Lake Huron, therefore, he collected the cargo awaiting him, loaded the Griffin with furs, and on September 18, 1679, despatched it in charge of six men to Niagara. La Salle himself pushed on to the mouth of the St. Joseph River, where he built a fort, and waited long and anxiously for the Griffin's return. But he waited in vain, for he never heard from his vessel again. It was a great loss and a keen disappointment. After waiting long he continued his way, careworn and weary, with eight canoes and a party of thirty-three men.
They rowed up the St. Joseph in search of the carrying-place leading to the head-waters of the Illinois River. On landing, La Salle started off alone to look for the pathway. In the midst of a blinding snow-storm he lost his bearings in the dense forest, and wandered until about two o'clock in the morning, when he found himself once more at the river, and fired his gun as a signal to the party.
Then his eyes caught the welcome sight of a fire burning in the woods. Believing he was near his friends, he quickened his steps, only to find himself mistaken. Near the fire, under a tree, was a bed of dried grass which was still warm, and showed plainly that a man had but a few minutes before been lying there. Very likely the man was an Indian, who had been frightened off by the sound of the gun. La Salle carefully placed brush for a sort of barricade on each side of the newly found bed, and then lay down by the blazing fire and slept till daybreak. He did not find his friends until four o'clock next afternoon.
On rejoining his party they made their way down the Illinois River, until their eyes fell upon some Indian wigwams on the forest-covered bank. The Indians, being friendly, received the Frenchmen with generous hospitality. They urged La Salle not to go down the Mississippi. They indeed said so much of the danger of the journey that six of La Salle's followers deserted, and another tried to poison him. These were sad days for La Salle and, like all his days, were beset with troubles and dangers. To protect himself from attack during the winter, he now planned the building of a fort which he called Crèvecœur, the French word for heartbreak, surely a fitting name.
Up to this time the iron-willed La Salle had not given up hope of hearing from the Griffin, but now he decided that his vessel was lost. There was but one thing to do. He must make an overland journey to Canada, 1,500 miles away, to get supplies for his expedition down the Mississippi. It was a dangerous undertaking. But on March 1, 1680, with an Indian hunter and four Frenchmen, the dauntless explorer started in two canoes.
The season was the worst in the year for such a journey. The ground was covered with melting snow, and the rivers in many places were frozen with ice, too thick to be broken by the boats. Much of the time the party had to pull the canoes on rough sleds overland or carry them on their shoulders until, a few days after starting, they hid them in the woods and pushed forward on foot to the head of Lake Michigan.
Reaching that point, it was now necessary for them to thread their toilsome way through the deep forests of Southern Michigan to the head of Lake Erie. For three days the undergrowth was so thick with thorns that it tore their clothing into shreds, and scratched their faces until they were covered with blood. Another three days were spent in wading, sometimes up to their waists, in the mud and water of the flood-covered marshes. At night they would take off their clothing and, covering their bodies with blankets, lie down to sleep on some dry hillock. One frosty night their clothes froze so stiff that in the morning they had to be thawed by the fireside before they could be put on. Amid such exposure some of the men fell sick, and thus delayed the party. But early in May, at the end of sixty-five days, they reached Canada.
As soon as he could arrange his affairs in Canada, La Salle again returned to the Illinois River and reached its mouth. But owing to fresh disappointments, he had to make still another journey through the wilderness to the base of his supplies on the St. Lawrence.
Not until February 6, 1682, two years and a half after he first started out in the Griffin, and after three attempts to build a suitable vessel for the journey, did he float out upon the waters of the Mississippi to explore it; and at last he was obliged to make the journey in canoes. This time his party included fifty-four people—eighteen Indian warriors, ten squaws, three Indian children, and twenty-three Frenchmen. On reaching the mouth of the river he planted a column bearing the arms of France, and then, with imposing ceremonies, took possession of the great Mississippi Valley in the name of the French King, Louis XIV., after whom he named the country Louisiana.
By building forts and trading centres along his route, La Salle had carried out the first part of his plan. He now resolved to go to France and get men for a colony which he wished to plant at the mouth of the Mississippi, and thus carry out the second part.
Having succeeded in France in fitting out this colony, he sailed with four vessels early in July, 1684, in search of the Mississippi River by way of the Gulf of Mexico. With his usual bad fortune, however, he missed its mouth and landed at Matagorda Bay, 400 miles to the west. Then followed many disasters, among which were loss of vessels and supplies, lack of food, sickness and death, and attacks by unfriendly Indians. For two years the wretched little colony struggled for life. La Salle was in sore distress. He knew he had many enemies among his men who would gladly take his life, but he hoped for help from France. No help came. It was plain to La Salle that he could save the suffering colony only by making his way to Canada. He therefore started out on January 12, 1687, with a party of seventeen men and five horses, on another long and dangerous journey through the dense forests—this time from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada.