with the tribes in that region; but Washington persuaded the chief,
whose name was Tanacharisson, to go with him to visit the French
commander, who was stationed in a fort hundreds of miles away, near Lake
Erie.
This march, like the other, was slow and full of hardships; but at last
the fort was reached, and Washington delivered his message to the French
officer. A day or two later the Frenchman gave him his answer, which was
that the western country belonged to the French, and that they had no
notion of giving it up.
All the trouble Washington had met in going north was nothing compared
with what was before him in going back to Virginia again. The winter was
now at its worst, and the weather was terrible. The rivers and creeks
were full of floating ice, and the woods were banked high with snow. But
Washington was not to be daunted by any kind of difficulty. He set out
on his return march, and with the aid of canoes, in which his baggage
was carried down a small stream that ran in that direction, he took his
party as far as Venango, in the northwestern part of Pennsylvania.
There he found that he could go no farther on horseback. The ground was
frozen on top, but soft beneath, and the poor horses broke through the
hard crust at every step. There was a French fort at Venango, and
Washington might have waited there very comfortably for better weather;
but it was his duty to get back to Virginia as soon as possible with the
French commander's answer, and so he made up his mind to go on, even at
the risk of his life.
Leaving the rest of the party to come when they could with the horses,
Washington and a single companion named Gist set out on foot for the
long winter march. As they had no pack-horses to carry tents and
cooking-vessels and food, they had to leave everything behind except
what they could carry on their backs; and as they were obliged to take
their rifles, powder-horns, and bullet-pouches, their hunting-knives and
hatchets, and a blanket apiece, they were pretty heavily loaded, and
could not afford to burden themselves with much else.
Day by day the two brave fellows trudged on through the snow-drifts,
sleeping at night as best they could, exposed to the biting cold of the
winter, without shelter, except such as the woods afforded. There were
other dangers besides cold and hunger. At one time a treacherous Indian,
who had offered to act as guide, tried to lead the two white men into a
trap. As they suspected his purpose, they refused to do as he wished,
and a little later he suddenly turned about and shot at Washington, who
was only a few paces distant. Missing his aim, he was quickly
overpowered, and Gist wanted to kill him, not merely because he deserved
to be put to death for his treachery, but also because, if allowed to go
free, he was pretty sure to bring other hostile Indians to attack the
lonely travellers during the night.
[Illustration: WASHINGTON AS A SURVEYOR.]
But Washington would not have him killed. He made him build a camp-fire,
and then told him to leave them at once. The Indian did so, and as soon
as it was certain that he was out of sight and hearing the two young men
set out to make their escape. They knew the Indian would soon come back
with others, and that their only chance for life was to push on as fast
as they could. The Indians could track them in the snow, but by setting
out at once they hoped to get so far ahead that they could not be easily
overtaken.
It was already night, and the travellers were weary from their day's
march, but they could not afford to stop or rest. All through the night
they toiled on. Morning came, and they must have felt it nearly
impossible to drag their weary feet farther, but still they made no
halt. On and on they went, and it was not till night came again that
they thought it safe at last to stop for the rest and sleep they needed
so badly. The strain they had undergone must have been fearful. They
were already weary and wayworn when they first met the treacherous
Indian, and after that they had toiled through the snow for two days and
a night without stopping to rest or daring to refresh themselves with
sleep.
Just before reaching their journey's end they arrived at the brink of a
river which they expected to find frozen over; but they found it full of
floating ice instead. Without boat or bridge, there seemed no chance of
getting across; but after a while they managed to make a rude raft, and
upon this they undertook to push themselves across with long poles.
The current was very strong, the raft was hard to manage, and the great
fields of ice forced it out of its course. In trying to push it in the
right direction, Washington missed his footing and fell into the icy
river. His situation was very dangerous, but by a hard struggle he got
upon the floating logs again. Still the current swept them along, and
they could not reach either shore of the stream.
At last they managed to leap from the logs, not to the bank, but to a
small island in the river. There they were very little better off than
on the raft. They were on land, it is true, but there was still no way
of getting to shore; and as there was nothing on the island to make a
fire with, Washington was forced, drenched as he was with ice-water, to
pass the long winter night in the open air, without so much as a tiny
blaze or a handful of coals by which to warm himself.
Unfortunately the night proved to be a very cold one, and poor Gist's
feet and hands were frozen before morning. Washington got no
frost-bites, but his sufferings must have been great.
During the night that part of the stream which lay between the island
and the shore that Washington wished to reach froze over, and in the
morning the travellers were able to renew their journey. Once across
that, the worst of their troubles were over.
Is it any wonder that a young man who did his duty in this way rapidly
rose to distinction? He was always in earnest in his work, and always
did it with all his might. He never shammed or shirked. He never let his
own comfort or his own interest stand in the way when there was a duty
to be done. He was a great man before he became a celebrated one, and
the wisest men in the country found out the fact.
When the revolution came there were other soldiers older and better
known than Washington, but there were men in Congress who had watched
his career carefully. They made him, therefore, commander-in-chief of
the American armies, knowing that nobody else was so sure to do the very
best that could be done for the country. They did not make him a great
man by appointing him to the chief command; they appointed him because
they knew he was a great man already.
THE STORY OF CATHERINE.
Peter the Great, the emperor who, in a few years, changed Russia from a
country of half-savage tribes into a great European nation, was one day
visiting one of his officers, and saw in his house a young girl, who
attracted his attention by her beauty and her graceful manners. This
girl was a prisoner named Martha, and she was living as a sort of
servant and housekeeper in the family of the Russian officer. She had
been taken prisoner when the town she lived in was captured. Nobody
knows, even to this day, exactly who she was, except that she was a poor
orphan girl who had been brought up by a village clergyman; but it is
generally believed that her father was a Livonian peasant.
Martha's beauty and the brightness of her mind pleased the emperor so
much that, after a while, he made up his mind to marry her, in spite of
her humble origin. Peter was in the habit of doing pretty much as he
pleased, whether his nobles liked it or not; but even he dared not make
a captive peasant girl the Empress of Russia. He therefore married her
privately, in the presence of a few of his nearest friends, who were
charged to keep the secret. Before the marriage took place he had Martha
baptized in the Russian Church, and changed her name to Catherine.
Now Peter had a bad habit of losing his temper, and getting so angry
that he fell into fits. As he was an absolute monarch and could do
whatever he liked, it was very dangerous for anybody to go near him when
he was angry. He could have a head chopped off as easily as he could
order his breakfast. But he was very fond of Catherine, and she was the
only person who was not in the least afraid of him. She soon learned how
to manage him, and even in his worst fits she could soothe and quiet the
old bear.
Peter was nearly always at war, and in spite of the hardships and
dangers of the camp and battle-field Catherine always marched with him
at the head of the army. The soldiers wondered at her bravery, and
learned to like her more than anybody else. If food was scarce, the
roads rough, and the marches long, they remembered, that Catherine was
with them, and were ashamed to grumble. If she could stand the hardships
and face the dangers, they thought rough soldiers ought not to complain.
Catherine was a wise woman as well as a brave one. She soon learned as
much of the art of war as Peter knew, and in every time of doubt or
difficulty her advice was asked, and her opinion counted for as much as
if she had been one of the generals. After she had thus shown how able a
woman she was, and had won the friendship of everybody about her by her
good temper and her pleasant ways, Peter publicly announced his
marriage, and declared Catherine to be his wife and czarina. But still
he did not crown her.
This was in the year 1711, and immediately afterwards Peter marched
into the Turkish country at the head of forty thousand men. This army
was not nearly large enough to meet the Turks, but Peter had other
armies in different places, and had ordered all of them to meet him on
the march. For various reasons all these armies failed to join him, and
he found himself in a Turkish province with a very small number of
troops. The danger was so great that he ordered Catherine and all the
other women to go back to a place of safety. But Catherine would not go.
She had made up her mind to stay with Peter at the head of the army, and
was so obstinate about it that at last Peter gave her leave to remain.
Then the wives of the generals, and, finally, of the lower officers,
wanted to stay also. She persuaded Peter to let them do so, and the end
of it was that the women all stayed with the army.
Everything went against Peter on this march. The weather was very dry.
Swarms of locusts were in the country, eating every green thing. There
was no food for the horses, and many of them starved to death. It was
hard for the Russians to go forward or to go backward, and harder still
to stay where they were.
At last the soldiers in front reported that the Turks were coming, and
Peter soon saw a great army of two hundred thousand fierce Moslems in
front of his little force, which counted up only thirty-eight thousand
men. Seeing the odds against him he gave the order to retreat, and the
army began its backward march. As it neared the river Pruth a new danger
showed itself. The advance-guard brought word that a great force of
savage Crim Tartars held the other bank of the river, completely cutting
off Peter's retreat.
The state of things seemed hopeless. With two hundred thousand Turks on
one side, and a strong force of Crim Tartars holding a river on the
other, Peter's little army was completely hemmed in. There was no water
in the camp, and when the soldiers went to the river for it, the Tartars
on the other shore kept up a fierce fight with them. A great horde of
Turkish cavalry tried hard to cut off the supply entirely by pushing
themselves between Peter's camp and the river, but the Russians managed
to keep them back by hard fighting, and to keep a road open to the
river.
Peter knew now that unless help should come to him in some shape, and
that very quickly, he must lose not only his army, but his empire also,
for if the Turks should take him prisoner, it was certain that his many
enemies would soon conquer Russia, and divide the country among
themselves. He saw no chance of help coming, but he made up his mind to
fight as long as he could. He formed his men in a hollow square, with
the women in the middle, and faced his enemies.
The Turks flung themselves in great masses upon his lines, trying to
crush the little force of Russians by mere numbers. But Peter's brave
men remembered that Catherine was inside their hollow square, and they
stood firmly at their posts, driving back the Turks with frightful
slaughter. Again and again and again they fell upon his lines in heavy
masses, and again and again and again they were driven back, leaving
the field black with their dead.
This could not go on forever, of course, and both sides saw what the end
must be. As the Turks had many times more men than Peter, it was plain
that they would, at last, win by destroying all the Russians.
For three days and nights the terrible slaughter went on. Peter's men
beat back the Turks at every charge, but every hour their line grew
thinner. At the end of the third day sixteen thousand of their brave
comrades lay dead upon the field, and only twenty-two thousand remained
to face the enemy.
Towards night on the third day a terrible rumor spread through their
camp. A whisper ran along the line that _the ammunition was giving out_.
A few more shots from each soldier's gun, and there would be nothing
left to fight with.
Then Peter fell into the sulks. As long as he could fight he had kept up
his spirits, but now that all was lost, and his great career seemed near
its end, he grew angry, and went to his tent to have one of his savage
fits. He gave orders that nobody should come near him, and there was no
officer or soldier in all the army who would have dared enter the tent
where he lay, in his dangerous mood.
But if Peter had given up in despair, Catherine had not. In spite of
Peter's order and his anger, she boldly went into his tent, and asked
him to give her leave to put an end to the war by making a treaty of
peace with the Turks, if she could. It seemed absurd to talk of such a
thing, or to expect the Turks to make peace on any terms when they had
so good a chance to conquer Peter, once for all, and to make him their
prisoner. Nobody but Catherine, perhaps, would have thought of such a
thing; but Catherine was a woman born for great affairs, and she had no
thought of giving up any chance there might be to save Peter and the
empire.
Her first difficulty was with Peter himself. She could not offer terms
of peace to the Turks until Peter gave her leave, and promised to fulfil
whatever bargain she might make with them. She managed this part of
the matter, and then set to work at the greater task of dealing with the
Turks.
[Illustration: "SHE WENT BOLDLY INTO HIS TENT."]
She knew that the Turkish army was under the command of the Grand
Vizier, and she knew something of the ways of Grand Viziers. It was not
worth while to send any kind of messenger to a Turkish commander without
sending him also a bribe in the shape of a present, and Catherine was
sure that the bribe must be a very large one to buy the peace she
wanted. But where was she to get the present? There was no money in
Peter's army-chest, and no way of getting any from Russia. Catherine was
not discouraged by that fact. She first got together all her own jewels,
and then went to all the officers' wives and asked each of them for
whatever she had that was valuable--money, jewels, and plate. She gave
each of them a receipt for what she took, and promised to pay them the
value of their goods when she should get back to Moscow. She went in
this way throughout the camp, and got together all the money, all the
jewelry, and all the silver plate that were to be found in the army. No
one person had much, of course; but when the things were collected
together, they made a very rich present, or bribe, for the Grand Vizier.
With this for a beginning, Catherine soon convinced the Turkish
commander that it was better to make peace with Russia than to run the
risk of having to fight the great armies that were already marching
towards Turkey. After some bargaining she secured a treaty which allowed
Peter to go back to Russia in safety, and thus she saved the czar and
the empire. A few years later Peter crowned her as Empress of Russia,
and when he died he named her as the fittest person to be his successor
on the throne.
Thus the peasant girl of Livonia, who was made a captive in war and a
servant, rose by her genius and courage to be the sole ruler of a great
empire--the first woman who ever reigned over Russia. It is a strange
but true story.
THE VIRGINIA WIFE-MARKET.
TWO SHIPLOADS OF SWEETHEARTS AND THE PRICES PAID FOR THEM.
The first English settlement in America that came to anything was made
in the most absurd way possible. A great company of London merchants set
about the work of planting an English colony in Virginia, and they were
very much in earnest about it too; but if they had been as anxious to
have the scheme fail as they were to make it succeed, they could hardly
have done worse for it than they did in some respects.
They knew that the colonists must have something to eat and must defend
themselves against the Indians, and so it ought to have been plain to
them that the first men sent out must be stout farmers, who could cut
down trees, plough the ground, raise food enough for the people to eat,
and handle guns well, if need be. The work to be done was that of
farmers, wood-choppers, and men who could make a living for themselves
in a new country, and common-sense ought to have led the London Company
to send out nobody but men of that kind to make the first settlement.
Then, after those men had cleared some land, built some houses, and
raised their first crop, men of other kinds might have been sent as fast
as there was need for their services.
But that was not the way in which the London Company went to work. They
chose for their first settlers about the most unfit men they could have
found for such a purpose. There were one hundred and five of them in
all, and forty-eight of them--or nearly half of the whole company--were
what people in those days called "gentlemen"--that is to say, they were
the sons of rich men. They had never learned how to do any kind of work,
and had been brought up to think that a gentleman could not work without
degrading himself and losing his right to be called a gentleman. There
were a good many "servants" also in the party, and probably most of them
were brought to wait upon the gentlemen. There were very few farmers and
not many mechanics in the party, although farmers and mechanics were the
men most needed. There were some goldsmiths, who expected to work the
gold as soon as the colonists should find it, and there was a
perfume-maker. It is hard to say in what way this perfume-man was
expected to make himself useful in the work of planting a settlement in
the swamps of Virginia; but, as there were so many fine "gentlemen" in
the party, the perfumer probably thought his wares would be in demand.
None of the men brought families with them. They were single men, who
came out to this country, not to make comfortable homes for wives and
children, by hard and patient work, but to find gold and pearls, or to
grow rich in some other quick and easy way, and then to go back and live
in ease in England.
It is a wonder that such men ever succeeded in planting a settlement at
all. From the first it does not seem to have been clear to them that
they ought to raise plenty of food for themselves and learn how to live
by their own work. They expected the company in London to send them most
of their food and everything else that they needed. They had plenty of
rich land and a good climate, but they expected to be fed by people
three thousand miles away, across a great ocean.
Luckily, there was one man of sense and spirit among them--the
celebrated Captain John Smith--who got them to work a little, and, after
many hardships and two or three narrow escapes from failure, the colony
was firmly planted.
The London Company sent out ships every year with supplies and fresh
colonists; but, strange as it seems, most of the men sent were
unmarried, and even those who had wives and children left them in
England.
When we think of it, this was a very bad way to begin the work of
settling a new country. The bachelors, of course, did not intend to
stay all their lives in a country where there were no women and
children. They meant to make some money as quickly as they could and
then go back to England to live. The married men who had left their
families behind them were in still greater haste to make what they could
and go home. In short, for a dozen years after the colony was planted,
nobody thought of it as his real home, where he meant to live out his
life. If the colonists had been married men, with wives and children in
Virginia, they would have done all they could to make the new settlement
a pleasant one to live in: they would have built good houses, set up
schools, and worked hard to improve their own fortunes and to keep order
in the colony.
But year after year the ships brought cargoes of single men to Virginia,
and the settlement was scarcely more than a camp in the woods. After the
company had been trying for a good many years to people a new country by
landing shiploads of bachelors on its shores, it began to dawn upon
their minds that if the Virginia settlement was ever to grow into a
thriving and lasting colony, there must be women and children there to
make happy homes, as well as men to raise wheat, corn, and tobacco.
Sir Edwin Sandys was the wise man who saw all this most clearly. He
urged the company to send out hard-working married men, who would take
their wives and children with them to Virginia and settle there for
good. But this was not all. There were already a great many bachelors in
the colony, and there were no young women there for them to marry. Sir
Edwin knew that if these bachelors were to stay in Virginia and become
prosperous colonists they must have a chance to marry and set up homes
of their own. So he went to work in England to get together a cargo of
sweethearts for the colonists. He persuaded ninety young women of good
character to go out in one of the company's ships, to marry young men in
Virginia.
The plan was an odd one, but it was managed with good sense and did well
for everybody concerned. It was agreed that the company should provide
the young women with such clothing and other things as they would need
for the voyage, and should give them free passage on board the ship.
When they landed in Virginia they were to be perfectly free to marry or
not, as they pleased. If any of them did not at once find husbands to
their liking they were to be provided for in good homes until they chose
to marry.
But no man could marry one of these young women without paying for her
in tobacco, which was used instead of money in Virginia. The girls were
not to be sold, exactly, but it was expected that each colonist who
married one of them should pay the company as much as it had spent in
bringing her across the ocean.
And the men of the colony were glad enough to do this. When the shipload
of sweethearts landed at Jamestown a large number of men who were tired
of bachelor life hurried to the wharf to get wives for themselves if
they could. They went among the young maids, introduced themselves, got
acquainted, and did all the courting that was necessary in a very
little time. The young women were honest, good, well-brought-up girls,
and among the many men there were plenty of good, industrious, and brave
fellows who wanted good wives, and so all the girls were "engaged" at
once. The men paid down one hundred and twenty pounds of tobacco
apiece--for that was the price fixed upon--and, as there was nothing to
wait for, the clergymen were sent for and the weddings took place
immediately.