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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Heroines That Every Child Should Know, by
+Various, Edited by Hamilton Wright Mabie and Kate Stephens, Illustrated by
+Blanche Ostertag
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Heroines That Every Child Should Know
+       Tales for Young People of the World's Heroines of All Ages
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Hamilton Wright Mabie and Kate Stephens
+
+Release Date: April 29, 2011  [eBook #35994]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEROINES THAT EVERY CHILD SHOULD
+KNOW***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Jeannie Howse, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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+
+
+      +-----------------------------------------------------------+
+      | Transcriber's note:                                       |
+      |                                                           |
+      | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has     |
+      | been preserved.                                           |
+      |                                                           |
+      | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For     |
+      | a complete list, please see the end of this document.     |
+      |                                                           |
+      +-----------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: I bring you the best help that ever Knight or City
+had For it is God's help not sent for love of me but by God's
+good pleasure]
+
+
+HEROINES THAT EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW
+
+Tales for Young People of the World's Heroines of All Ages
+
+CO-EDITED BY
+HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE
+AND KATE STEPHENS
+
+DECORATED BY
+BLANCHE OSTERTAG
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+New York
+Doubleday, Page & Company
+1908
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+PUBLISHED, FEBRUARY, 1908
+
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES
+INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
+
+
+The editors and publishers wish to acknowledge the courtesy of authors
+and publishers named below, for the use of certain material in this
+volume: To Mrs. Elizabeth E. Seelye for material adapted for
+Pocahontas, from her volume entitled "Pocahontas" (copyrighted, 1879,
+by Dodd, Mead & Company); to Messrs. Harper and Brothers and to the
+Estate of Mr. John S.C. Abbott for material adapted for Madame Roland;
+to Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Company for material adapted for Alcestis,
+Antigone and Iphigenia; to Messrs. E.P. Dutton & Company for material
+adapted for Lady Jane Grey; to the Macmillan Company for certain
+material in Paula; to Messrs. Hutchinson & Company, London, for
+material adapted for Sister Dora.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+The Book of Heroes should never be separated from the Book of
+Heroines; they are the two parts of that story of courage, service and
+achievement which is the most interesting and inspiring chapter in the
+history of human kind in this wonderful world of ours. Whenever and
+wherever there has appeared a hero, a heroine has almost always worked
+with or for him; for heroic and noble deeds are rarely done without
+some kind of cooperation. Now and then, it is true, single acts of
+daring stand out alone; but, as a rule, the hero gains his end because
+other men or women stand beside him in times of great peril. William
+the Silent could not have made his heroic defence of the Low Countries
+against the armies of Spain if men of heroic temper and women of
+indomitable courage had not been about him in those terrible years;
+Washington could not have converted a body of farmers into an
+organized and disciplined army if he had not been aided by the skill
+of drill masters like Steuben; nor could Lieutenant Peary make
+brilliant dashes for the North Pole if other men did not join him in
+his perilous expeditions. The hero is generally a leader of heroes, as
+a great general is a leader of soldiers who carry out his plans in
+hourly jeopardy of limb and life.
+
+It is a mistake to think of heroes as rare and exceptional men; the
+world is full of those who take their lives in their hands every day
+and think nothing about it; or, if they think of it at all, think of
+it, as Mr. Kipling would say, as part of the day's work. It is almost
+impossible to open a daily newspaper without coming upon some story of
+daring by some obscure man or woman. The record of a fire department
+is usually a continuous register of the brave deeds done by those who
+receive very small pay for a very dangerous service to their fellows.
+It is not necessary to go back to the days of chivalry or to open the
+histories of great wars to find a hero; he lives in every street,
+works in every profession and never thinks that he is doing anything
+unusual or impressive. There are many stories of heroic deeds and men,
+but these are as nothing compared with the unwritten stories of brave
+and chivalrous people whose lives are full of courage, self-denial and
+sacrifice, but of whom no public reports are ever made.
+
+It has taken three centuries to explore and settle this country, and
+there are still parts of it in which those who live face the perils
+and hardships of pioneers. Ever since the war of the Revolution the
+skirmish line of civilisation has moved steadily forward from the
+Atlantic to the Pacific; and every man who has carried a rifle or an
+axe, who has defended his home against Indians or cut down trees, made
+a clearing, built a rude house and turned the prairie or the land
+taken from the forest into a farm, has had something of the hero in
+him. He has often been selfish, harsh and unjust; but he has been
+daring, full of endurance and with a capacity for heroic work; But he
+has never been alone; we see him always as he faces his foes or bears
+the strain of his work: we often forget that there was as much courage
+in the log house as on the firing line at the edge of the forest, and
+that the work indoors was harder in many ways than the work out of
+doors and far less varied and inspiriting. If we could get at the
+facts we should find that there have been more heroines than heroes in
+the long warfare of the race against foes within and without, and that
+the courage of women has had far less to stimulate it in dramatic or
+picturesque conditions or crises. It is much easier to make a perilous
+charge in full daylight, with flying banners and the music of bugles
+ringing across the field, than to hold a lonely post, in solitude at
+midnight, against a stealthy and unseen enemy.
+
+Boys do not need to be taught to admire the bold rush on the enemies'
+position, the brilliant and audacious passage through the narrow
+channel under the guns of masked batteries, the lonely march into
+Central Africa, the dash to the North Pole; they do need to be taught
+the heroism of those who give the hero his sword and then go home
+to wait for his return; who leave the stockade unarmed and, under a
+fire of poisoned arrows, run to the springs for water for a thirsting
+garrison; who quietly stay at their posts and as quietly die
+without the inspiration of dramatic achievement or of the heart-felt
+applause of spectators; who bear heavy burdens without a chance to
+drop or change them; who are heroically patient under blighting
+disappointments and are loyal to those who are disloyal to them; who
+bear terrible wrongs in silence, and conceal the cowardice of those
+they love and cover their retreat with a smiling courage which is the
+very soul of the pathos of unavailing heroism and undeserved failure.
+
+From the days of Esther, Judith and Antigone to those of Florence
+Nightingale, women have shown every kind of courage that men have
+shown, faced every kind of peril that men have braved, divided with
+men the dangers and hardships of heroism but have never had an equal
+share of recognition and applause. So far as they are concerned this
+lack of equal public reward has been of small consequence; the best of
+them have not only not cared for it, but have shunned it. It is well
+to remember that the noblest heroes have never sought applause; and
+that popularity is much more dangerous to heroes than the foes they
+faced or the savage conditions they mastered in the splendid hour of
+daring achievement. Many heroes have been betrayed by popularity into
+vanity and folly and have lost at home the glory they won abroad.
+Heroic women have not cared for public recognition and do not need it;
+but it is of immense importance to society that the ideals of heroism
+should be high and true, and that the soldier and the explorer should
+not be placed above those whose achievements have been less dramatic,
+but of a finer quality. The women who have shown heroic courage,
+heroic patience, heroic purity and heroic devotion outrank the men
+whose deeds have had their inspiration in physical bravery, who have
+led splendid charges in full view of the world, who have achieved
+miracles of material construction in canal or railroad, or the
+reclaiming of barbarous lands to the uses of civilization. In a true
+scale of heroic living and doing women must be counted more heroic
+than men.
+
+A writer of varied and brilliant talent and of a generous and gallant
+spirit was asked at a dinner table, one evening not many years ago,
+why no women appeared in his stories. He promptly replied that he
+admired pluck above all other qualities, that he was timid by nature
+and had won courage at the point of danger, and cared for it as the
+most splendid of manly qualities. There happened to be a woman present
+who bore the name of one of the most daring men of the time, and who
+knew army life intimately. She made no comment and offered no
+objection to the implication of the eminent writer's incautious
+statement; but presently she began, in a very quiet tone, to describe
+the incidents of her experience in army posts and on the march, and
+every body listened intently as she went on narrating story after
+story of the pluck and indifference to danger of women on the frontier
+posts and, in some instances, on the march. The eminent writer
+remained silent, but the moment the woman withdrew from the table he
+was eager to know who the teller of these stories of heroism was and
+how she had happened upon such remarkable experiences; and it was
+noted that a woman appeared in his next novel!
+
+The stories in this volume have been collected from many sources in
+the endeavour to illustrate the wide range of heroism in the lives of
+brave and noble women, and with the hope that these records of
+splendid or quiet courage will open the eyes of young readers to the
+many forms which heroism wears, and furnish a more spiritual scale of
+heroic qualities.
+
+                                               HAMILTON W. MABIE.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                         PAGE
+
+     I. ALCESTIS. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
+          Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church                  3
+
+    II. ANTIGONE. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
+          Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church                 18
+
+   III. IPHIGENIA. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
+          Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church                 33
+
+    IV. PAULA. Written and adapted from "The Makers of Modern
+          Rome," by Mrs. Oliphant, "Martyrs and Saints of the
+          First Twelve Centuries," by Mrs. E. Rundle Charles,
+          and other sources                                         43
+
+     V. JOAN OF ARC. Adapted from "Joan of Arc, the Maid,"
+          by Janet Tuckey                                           57
+
+    VI. CATHERINE DOUGLAS. From the Poetical Works of Dante
+          Gabriel Rossetti                                         101
+
+   VII. LADY JANE GREY. Adapted from "Child-life and Girlhood
+          of Remarkable Women," by W.H. Davenport Adams            132
+
+  VIII. POCAHONTAS. Adapted from "Pocahontas," by Elizabeth
+          Eggleston Seelye, assisted by Edward Eggleston           146
+
+    IX. FLORA MACDONALD. Adapted from "The Heroines of
+          Domestic Life," by Mrs. Octavius Freire Owen             174
+
+     X. MADAME ROLAND. Adapted from "Madame Roland," by John
+          S.C. Abbott                                              190
+
+    XI. GRACE DARLING. Written and adapted from various
+          sources                                                  230
+
+   XII. SISTER DORA. Adapted from "Virgin Saints and Martyrs,"
+          by S. Baring-Gould                                       241
+
+  XIII. FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. Written and adapted from various
+          sources                                                  266
+
+
+
+
+Heroines Every Child Should Know
+
+
+
+
+HEROINES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+ALCESTIS
+
+
+Asclepius, the son of Apollo, being a mighty physician, raised men
+from the dead. But Zeus was wroth that a man should have such power,
+and so make of no effect the ordinance of the gods. Wherefore he smote
+Asclepius with a thunderbolt and slew him. And when Apollo knew this,
+he slew the Cyclopes that had made the thunderbolts for his father
+Zeus, for men say that they make them on their forges that are in the
+mountain of Etna.
+
+Zeus suffered not this deed to go unpunished, but passed this sentence
+on his son Apollo, that he should serve a mortal man for the space of
+a whole year. Wherefore, for all that he was a god, he kept the sheep
+of Admetus, who was the Prince of Pherae in Thessaly. And Admetus knew
+not that he was a god; but, nevertheless, being a just man, dealt
+truly with him.
+
+And it came to pass after this that Admetus was sick unto death. But
+Apollo gained this grace for him of the Fates (who order of life and
+death for men), that he should live, if only he could find some one
+who should be willing to die in his stead. And he went to all his
+kinsmen and friends and asked this thing of them, but found no one
+that was willing so to die; only Alcestis his wife was willing.
+
+And when the day was come on the which it was appointed for her to
+die, Death came that he might fetch her. And when he was come, he
+found Apollo walking to and for before the palace of King Admetus,
+having his bow in his hand. And when Death saw him, he said:
+
+"What doest thou here, Apollo? Is it not enough for thee to have kept
+Admetus from his doom? Dost thou keep watch and ward over this woman
+with thine arrows and thy bow?"
+
+"Fear not," the god made answer, "I have justice on my side."
+
+"If thou hast justice, what need of thy bow?"
+
+"'Tis my wont to carry it."
+
+"Ay, and it is thy wont to help this house beyond all right and law."
+
+"Nay, but I was troubled at the sorrows of one that I loved, and
+helped him."
+
+"I know thy cunning speech and fair ways; but this woman thou shalt
+not take from me."
+
+"But consider; thou canst have but one life. Wilt thou not take
+another in her stead?"
+
+"Her and no other will I have, for my honour is the greater when I
+take the young."
+
+"I know thy temper, hated both of gods and of men. But there cometh a
+guest to this house, whom Eurystheus sendeth to the snowy plains of
+Thrace, to fetch the horses of Diomed. Haply he shall persuade thee
+against thy will."
+
+"Say what thou wilt; it shall avail nothing. And now I go to cut off
+a lock of her hair, for I take these first-fruits of them that die."
+
+In the meantime, within the palace, Alcestis prepared herself for
+death. And first she washed her body with pure water from the river,
+and then she took from her coffer of cedar her fairest apparel, and
+adorned herself therewith. Then, being so arranged, she stood before
+the hearth and prayed, saying:
+
+"O Queen Here, behold! I depart this day. Do thou therefore keep my
+children, giving to this one a noble husband and to that a loving
+wife."
+
+And all the altars that were in the house she visited in like manner,
+crowning them with myrtle leaves and praying at them. Nor did she weep
+at all, or groan, or grow pale. But at the last, when she came to her
+chamber, she cast herself upon the bed and kissed it, crying:
+
+"I hate thee not, though I die for thee, giving myself for my husband.
+And thee another wife shall possess, not more true than I am, but,
+maybe, more fortunate!"
+
+And after she had left the chamber, she turned to it again and again
+with many tears.
+
+And all the while her children clung to her garments, and she took
+them up in her arms, the one first and then the other, and kissed
+them. And all the servants that were in the house bewailed their
+mistress, nor did she fail to reach her hand to each of them greeting
+him. There was not one of them so vile but she spake to him and was
+spoken to again.
+
+After this, when the hour was now come when she must die, she cried to
+her husband (for he held her in his arms, as if he would have stayed
+her that she should not depart):
+
+"I see the boat of the dead, and Charon standing with his hand upon
+the pole, who calleth me, saying, 'Hasten; thou delayest us'; and then
+again, 'A winged messenger of the dead looketh at me from under his
+dark eyebrows, and would lead me away. Dost thou not see him?'"
+
+Then, after this, she seemed now ready to die, yet again she gathered
+strength, and said to the King:
+
+"Listen, and I will tell thee before I die what I would have thee do.
+Thou knowest how I have given my life for thy life. For when I might
+have lived, and had for my husband any prince of Thessaly that I
+would, and dwelt here in wealth and royal state, yet could I not
+endure to be widowed of thee and that thy children should be
+fatherless. Therefore I spared not myself, though thy father and
+mother betrayed thee. But the gods have ordered all this after their
+own pleasure. So be it. Do thou therefore make this recompense, which
+indeed thou owest to me, for what will not a man give for his life?
+Thou lovest these children even as I love them. Suffer them then to be
+rulers in this house, and bring not a stepmother over them who shall
+hate them and deal with them unkindly. A son, indeed, hath a tower of
+strength in his father. But, O my daughter, how shall it fare with
+thee, for thy mother will not give thee in marriage, nor be with thee,
+comforting thee when a mother most showeth kindness and love. And now
+farewell, for I die this day. And thou, too, farewell, my husband.
+Thou losest a true wife, and ye, too, my children, a true mother."
+
+Then Admetus made answer:
+
+"Fear not, it shall be as thou wilt. I could not find other wife fair
+and well born and true as thou. Never more shall I gather revellers
+in my palace, or crown my head with garlands, or hearken to the voice
+of music. Never shall I touch the harp or sing to the Libyan flute.
+And some cunning craftsman shall make an image fashioned like unto
+thee, and this I will hold in my arms and think of thee. Cold comfort
+indeed, yet that shall ease somewhat of the burden of my soul. But oh!
+that I had the voice and melody of Orpheus, for then had I gone down
+to Hell and persuaded the Queen thereof or her husband with my song to
+let thee go; nor would the watch-dog of Pluto, nor Charon that
+ferrieth the dead, have hindered me but that I had brought thee to the
+light. But do thou wait for me there, for there will I dwell with
+thee; and when I die they shall lay me by thy side, for never was wife
+so true as thou."
+
+Then said Alcestis:
+
+"Take these children as a gift from me, and be as a mother to them."
+
+"O me!" he cried, "what shall I do, being bereaved of thee?"
+
+And she said:
+
+"Time will comfort thee; the dead are as nothing."
+
+But he said:
+
+"Nay, but let me depart with thee."
+
+But the Queen made answer:
+
+"'Tis enough that I die in thy stead."
+
+And when she had thus spoken she gave up the ghost.
+
+Then the King said to the old men that were gathered together to
+comfort him:
+
+"I will see to this burial. And do ye sing a hymn as is meet to the
+god of the dead. And to all my people I make this decree; that they
+mourn for this woman, and clothe themselves in black, and shave their
+heads, and that such as have horses cut off their manes, and that
+there be not heard in the city the voice of the flute or the sound of
+the harp for the space of twelve months."
+
+Then the old men sang the hymn as they had been bidden. And when they
+had finished, it befell that Hercules, who was on a journey, came to
+the palace and asked whether King Admetus was sojourning there.
+
+And the old men answered:
+
+"'Tis even so, Hercules. But what, I pray thee, bringeth thee to this
+land?"
+
+"I am bound on an errand for King Eurystheus; even to bring back to
+him horses of King Diomed."
+
+"How wilt thou do this? Dost thou not know this Diomed?"
+
+"I know naught of him, nor of his land."
+
+"Thou wilt not master him or his horses without blows."
+
+"Even so, yet I may not refuse the tasks that are set to me."
+
+"Thou art resolved then to do this thing or to die?"
+
+"Ay; and this is not the first race that I have run."
+
+"Thou wilt not easily bridle these horses."
+
+"Why not? They breathe not fire from their nostrils."
+
+"No, but they devour the flesh of men."
+
+"What sayest thou? This is the food of wild beasts, not of horses."
+
+"Yet 'tis true. Thou wilt see their mangers foul with blood."
+
+"And the master of these steeds, whose son is he?"
+
+"He is son of Ares, lord of the land of Thrace."
+
+"Now this is a strange fate and a hard that maketh me fight ever with
+the sons of Ares, with Lycaon first, and with Cycnus next, and now
+with this King Diomed. But none shall ever see the son of Alcmena
+trembling before an enemy."
+
+And now King Admetus came forth from the palace. And when the two had
+greeted one another, Hercules would fain know why the King had shaven
+his hair as one that mourned for the dead. And the King answered that
+he was about to bury that day one that was dear to him.
+
+And when Hercules inquired yet further who this might be, the King
+said that his children were well, and his father also, and his mother.
+But of his wife he answered so that Hercules understood not that he
+spake of her. For he said that she was a stranger by blood, yet near
+in friendship, and that she had dwelt in his house, having been left
+an orphan of her father. Nevertheless Hercules would have departed and
+found entertainment elsewhere, for he would not be troublesome to his
+host. But the King suffered him not. And to the servant that stood by
+he said:
+
+"Take thou this guest to the guest-chamber; and see that they that
+have charge of these matters set abundance of food before him. And
+take care that ye shut the doors between the chambers and the palace;
+for it is not meet that the guest at his meal should hear the cry of
+them that mourn."
+
+And when the old men would know why the King, having so great a
+trouble upon him, yet entertained a guest, he made answer:
+
+"Would ye have commended me the more if I had caused him to depart
+from this house and this city? For my sorrow had not been one whit the
+less, and I had lost the praise of hospitality. And a right worthy
+host is he to me if ever I chance to visit the land of Argos."
+
+And now they had finished all things for the burying of Alcestis, when
+the old man Pheres, the father of the King, approached, and servants
+came with him bearing robes and crowns and other adornments wherewith
+to do honour to the dead. And when he was come over against the bier
+whereon they laid the dead woman, he spake to the King, saying:
+
+"I am come to mourn with thee, my son, for thou hast lost a noble
+wife. Only thou must endure, though this indeed is a hard thing. But
+take these adornments, for it is meet that she should be honoured who
+died for thee, and for me also, that I should not go down to the grave
+childless." And to the dead he said, "Fare thee well, noble wife, that
+hast kept this house from falling. May it be well with thee in the
+dwellings of the dead!"
+
+But the King answered him in great wrath:
+
+"I did not bid thee to this burial, nor shall this dead woman be
+adorned with gifts of thine. Who art thou that thou shouldest bewail
+her? Surely thou art not father of mine. For being come to extreme old
+age, yet thou wouldst not die for thy son, but sufferedst this woman,
+being a stranger in blood, to die for me. Her, therefore, I count
+father and mother also. Yet this had been a noble deed for thee,
+seeing that the span of life that was left to thee was short. And I,
+too, had not been left to live out my days thus miserably, bereaved of
+her whom I loved. Hast thou not had all happiness, thus having lived
+in kingly power from youth to age? And thou wouldst have left a son to
+come after thee, that thy house should not be spoiled by thine
+enemies. Have I not always done due reverence to thee and to my
+mother? And, lo! this is the recompense that ye make me. Wherefore I
+say to thee, make haste and raise other sons who may nourish thee in
+thy old age, and pay thee due honour when thou art dead, for I will
+not bury thee. To thee I am dead."
+
+Then the old man spake:
+
+"Thinkest thou that thou art driving some Lydian and Phrygian slave
+that hath been bought with money, and forgettest that I am a freeborn
+man of Thessaly, as my father was freeborn before me? I reared thee to
+rule this house after me; but to die for thee, that I owed thee not.
+This is no custom among the Greeks that a father should die for his
+son. To thyself thou livest or diest. All that was thy due thou hast
+received of me; the kingdom over many people, and, in due time, broad
+lands which I also received of my father. How have I wronged thee? Of
+what have I defrauded thee? I ask thee not to die for me; and I die
+not for thee. Thou lovest to behold this light. Thinkest thou that thy
+father loveth it not? For the years of the dead are very long; but the
+days of the living are short yet sweet withal. But I say to thee that
+thou hast fled from thy fate in shameless fashion, and hast slain this
+woman. Yea, a woman hath vanquished thee, and yet thou chargest
+cowardice against me. In truth, 'tis a wise device of thine that thou
+mayest live forever, if marrying many times, thou canst still persuade
+thy wife to die for thee. Be silent, then, for shame's sake; and if
+thou lovest life, remember that others love it also."
+
+So King Admetus and his father reproached each other with many
+unseemly words. And when the old man had departed, they carried forth
+Alcestis to her burial.
+
+But when they that bare the body had departed, there came in the old
+man that had the charge of the guest-chambers, and spake, saying:
+
+"I have seen many guests that have come from all the lands under the
+sun to this palace of Admetus, but never have I given entertainment to
+such evil guest as this. For first, knowing that my lord was in sore
+trouble and sorrow, he forebore not to enter these gates. And then he
+took his entertainment in most unseemly fashion; for if he lacked
+aught he would call loudly for it; and then, taking a great cup
+wreathed with leaves of ivy in his hands, he drank of red wine
+untempered with water. And when the food had warmed him, he crowned
+his head with myrtle boughs, and sang in the vilest fashion. Then
+might one hear two melodies, this fellow's songs, which he sang
+without thought for the troubles of my lord and the lamentation
+wherewith we servants lamented our mistress. But we suffered not this
+stranger to see our tears, for so my lord had commanded. Surely this
+is a grievous thing that I must entertain this stranger, who surely is
+some thief or robber. And meanwhile they have taken my mistress to her
+grave, and I followed not after her, nor reached my hand to her, that
+was as a mother to all that dwell in this place."
+
+When the man had so spoken, Hercules came forth from the
+guest-chamber, crowned with myrtle, and his face flushed with wine.
+And he cried to the servant, saying:
+
+"Ho, there! why lookest thou so solemn and full of care? Thou shouldst
+not scowl on thy guest after this fashion, being full of some sorrow
+that concerns thee not nearly. Come hither, and I will teach thee to
+be wiser. Knowest thou what manner of thing the life of a man is? I
+trow not. Hearken therefore. There is not a man who knoweth what a day
+may bring forth. Therefore I say to thee: Make glad thy heart; eat,
+drink, count the day that now is to be thine own, but all else to be
+doubtful. As for all other things, let them be, and hearken to my
+words. Put away this great grief that lieth upon thee, and enter into
+this chamber. Right soon shall I ease thee of these gloomy thoughts.
+As thou art a man, be wise after the fashion of a man; for to them
+that are of a gloomy countenance, life, if only I judge rightly, is
+not life but trouble only."
+
+Then the servant answered:
+
+"All this I know; but we have fared so ill in this house that mirth
+and laughter ill beseem us."
+
+"But they tell me that this dead woman was a stranger. Why shouldst
+thou be so troubled, seeing that they who rule this house yet live?"
+
+"How sayest thou that they live? Thou knowest not what trouble we
+endure."
+
+"I know it, unless thy lord strangely deceived me."
+
+"My lord is given to hospitality."
+
+"And should it hinder him that there is some stranger dead in the
+house?"
+
+"A stranger, sayest thou? 'Tis passing strange to call her thus."
+
+"Hath thy lord then suffered some sorrow that he told thee not?"
+
+"Even so, or I had not loathed to see thee at thy revels. Thou seest
+this shaven hair and these black robes."
+
+"What then? Who is dead? One of thy lord's children, or the old man,
+his father?"
+
+"Stranger, 'tis the wife of Admetus that is dead."
+
+"What sayest thou? And yet he gave me entertainment?"
+
+"Yea, for he would not, for shame, turn thee from his house."
+
+"O miserable man, what a helpmeet thou hast lost!"
+
+"Ay, and we are all lost with her."
+
+"Well I knew it; for I saw the tears in his eyes, and his head shaven,
+and his sorrowful regard; but he deceived me, saying that the dead
+woman was a stranger. Therefore did I enter the doors and make merry,
+and crown myself with garlands, not knowing what had befallen my host.
+But, come, tell me; where doth he bury her? Where shall I find her?"
+
+"Follow straight along the road that leadeth to Larissa, and thou
+shalt see her tomb in the outskirts of the city."
+
+Then said Hercules to himself:
+
+"O my heart, thou hast dared many great deeds before this day; and now
+most of all must I show myself a true son of Zeus. Now will I save
+this dead woman Alcestis, and give her back to her husband, and make
+due recompense to Admetus. I will go, therefore, and watch for this
+black-robed king, even Death. Me-thinks I shall find him nigh unto the
+tomb, drinking the blood of the sacrifices. There will I lie in wait
+for him, and run upon him, and throw my arms about him, nor shall
+anyone deliver him out of my hands, till he have given up to me this
+woman. But if it chance that I find him not there, and he come not to
+the feast of blood, I will go down to the Queen of Hell, to the land
+where the sun shineth not, and beg her of the Queen; and doubtless she
+will give her to me, that I may give her to her husband. Right nobly
+did he entertain me, and drave me not from his house, for all that he
+had been stricken by such sorrow. Is there a man in Thessaly, nay in
+the whole land of Greece, that is such a lover of hospitality? I trow
+not. Noble is he, and he shall know that he is no ill friend to whom
+he hath done this thing."
+
+So Hercules went his way. And when he was gone Admetus came back from
+the burying of his wife, a great company following him, of whom the
+elders sought to comfort him in his sorrow. And when he was come to
+the gates of his palace he cried:
+
+"How shall I enter thee? how shall I dwell in thee? Once I came within
+thy gates with many pine-torches from Pelion, and the merry noise of
+the marriage song, holding in my hand the hand of her that is dead;
+and after us followed a troop that magnified her and me, so noble a
+pair we were. And now with wailing instead of marriage songs, and
+garments of black for white wedding robes, I go to my desolate couch."
+
+But while he yet lingered before the palace Hercules came back,
+leading with him a woman that was covered with a veil. And when he saw
+the King, he said:
+
+"I hold it well to speak freely to one that is a friend, and that a
+man should not hide a grudge in his heart. Hear me, therefore. Though
+I was worthy to be counted thy friend, yet thou saidst not that thy
+wife lay dead in thy house, but suffered me to feast and make merry.
+For this, therefore, I blame thee. And now I will tell thee why I am
+returned. I pray thee, keep this woman against the day when I shall
+come back from the land of Thrace, bringing the horses of King Diomed.
+And if it should fare ill with me, let her abide here and serve thee.
+Not without toil came she into my hands. I found as I went upon my way
+that certain men had ordered contests for wrestlers and runners, and
+the like. Now for them that had the preeminence in lesser things there
+were horses for prizes; and for the greater, as wrestling and boxing,
+a reward of oxen, to which was added this woman. And now I would have
+thee keep her, for which thing, haply, thou wilt one day thank me."
+
+To this the King answered:
+
+"I thought no slight when I hid this truth from thee. Only it would
+have been for me sorrow upon sorrow if thou hadst gone to the house of
+another. But as for this woman, I would have thee ask this thing of
+some prince of Thessaly that hath not suffered such grief as I. In
+Pherae here thou hast many friends; but I could not look upon her
+without tears. Add not then this new trouble. And also how could she,
+being young, abide in my house, for young I judge her to be? And of a
+truth, lady, thou art very like in shape and stature to my Alcestis
+that is dead. I pray you, take her from my sight, for she troubleth my
+heart, and my tears run over with beholding her."
+
+Then said Hercules:
+
+"Would I had such strength that I could bring back thy wife from the
+dwellings of the dead, and put her in thy hands."
+
+"I know thy good will, but what profiteth it? No man may bring back
+the dead."
+
+"Well, time will soften thy grief, which yet is new."
+
+"Yea, if by time thou meanest death."
+
+"But a new wife will comfort thee."
+
+"Hold thy peace; such a thing cometh not into my thoughts."
+
+"What? wilt thou always keep this widowed state?"
+
+"Never shall woman more be wife of mine."
+
+"What will this profit her that is dead?"
+
+"I know not, yet had I sooner die than be false to her."
+
+"Yet I would have thee take this woman into thy house."
+
+"Ask it not of me, I entreat thee, by thy father Zeus."
+
+"Thou wilt lose much if thou wilt not do it."
+
+"And if I do it I shall break my heart."
+
+"Haply some day thou wilt thank me; only be persuaded."
+
+"Be it so; they shall take the woman into the house."
+
+"I would not have thee entrust her to thy servants."
+
+"If thou so thinkest, lead her in thyself."
+
+"Nay, but I would give her into thy hands."
+
+"I touch her not, but my house she may enter."
+
+"'Tis only to thy hand I entrust her."
+
+"O King, thou compellest me to this against my will."
+
+"Stretch forth thy hand and touch her."
+
+"I touch her as I would touch the Gorgon's head."
+
+"Hast thou hold of her?"
+
+"I have hold."
+
+"Then keep her safe, and say that the son of Zeus is a noble friend.
+See if she be like thy wife; and change thy sorrow for joy."
+
+And when the King looked, lo! the veiled woman was Alcestis his wife.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+ANTIGONE
+
+
+It befell in times past that the gods, being angry with the
+inhabitants of Thebes, sent into their land a very noisome beast which
+men called the Sphinx. Now this beast had the face and breast of a
+fair woman, but the feet and claws of a lion; and it was wont to ask a
+riddle of such as encountered it; and such as answered not aright it
+would tear and devour.
+
+When it had laid waste the land many days, there chanced to come to
+Thebes one Oedipus, who had fled from the city of Corinth that he
+might escape the doom which the gods had spoken against him. And the
+men of the place told him of the Sphinx, how she cruelly devoured the
+people, and that he who should deliver them from her should have the
+kingdom. So Oedipus, being very bold, and also ready of wit, went
+forth to meet the monster. And when she saw him she spake, saying:
+
+    "Read me this riddle right, or die:
+    What liveth there beneath the sky,
+    Four-footed creature that doth choose
+    Now three feet and now twain to use,
+    And still more feebly o'er the plain
+    Walketh with three feet than with twain?"
+
+And Oedipus made reply:
+
+    "'Tis man, who in life's early day
+    Four-footed crawleth on his way;
+    When time hath made his strength complete,
+    Upright his form and twain his feet;
+    When age hath bowed him to the ground
+    A third foot in his staff is found."
+
+And when the Sphinx found that her riddle was answered, she cast
+herself from a high rock and perished.
+
+For a while Oedipus reigned in great power and glory; but afterwards
+in madness he put out his own eyes. Then his two sons cast him into
+prison, and took his kingdom, making agreement between themselves that
+each should reign for the space of one year. And the elder of the two,
+whose name was Eteocles, first had the kingdom; but when his year was
+come to an end, he would not abide by his promise, but kept that which
+he should have given up, and drave out his younger brother from the
+city. Then the younger, whose name was Polynices, fled to Argos, to
+King Adrastus. And after a while he married the daughter of the King,
+who made a covenant with him that he would bring him back with a high
+hand to Thebes, and set him on the throne of his father. Then the King
+sent messengers to certain of the princes of Greece, entreating that
+they would help in this matter. And of these some would not, but
+others hearkened to his words, so that a great army was gathered
+together and followed the King and Polynices to make war against
+Thebes. So they came and pitched their camp over against the city. And
+after they had been there many days, the battle grew fierce about the
+wall. But the chiefest fight was between the two brothers, for the two
+came together in an open space before the gates. And first Polynices
+prayed to Here, for she was the goddess of the great city of Argos,
+which had helped him in this enterprise, and Eteocles prayed to
+Pallas of the Golden Shield, whose temple stood hard by. Then they
+crouched, each covered with his shield, and holding his spear in his
+hand, if by chance his enemy should give occasion to smite him; and if
+one showed so much as an eye above the rim of his shield the other
+would strike at him. But after a while King Eteocles slipped upon a
+stone that was under his foot, and uncovered his leg, at which
+straightway Polynices took aim with his spear, piercing the skin. But
+so doing he laid his own shoulder bare, and King Eteocles gave him a
+wound in the breast. He brake his spear in striking, and would have
+fared ill but that with a great stone he smote the spear of Polynices,
+and brake this also in the middle. And now were the two equal, for
+each had lost his spear. So they drew their swords and came yet closer
+together. But Eteocles used a device which he had learnt in the land
+of Thessaly; for he drew his left foot back, as if he would have
+ceased from the battle, and then of a sudden moved the right forward;
+and so smiting sideways, drave his sword right through the body of
+Polynices. But when thinking that he had slain him he set his weapons
+in the earth, and began to spoil him of his arms, the other, for he
+yet breathed a little, laid his hand upon his sword, and though he had
+scarce strength to smite, yet gave the King a mortal blow, so that the
+two lay dead together on the plain. And the men of Thebes lifted up
+the bodies of the dead, and bare them both into the city.
+
+When these two brothers, the sons of King Oedipus, had fallen each by
+the hand of the other, the kingdom fell to Creon their uncle. For not
+only was he the next of kin to the dead, but also the people held him
+in great honour because his son Menoeceus had offered himself with a
+willing heart that he might deliver his city from captivity.
+
+Now when Creon was come to the throne, he made a proclamation about
+the two princes, commanding that they should bury Eteocles with all
+honour, seeing that he died as beseemed a good man and a brave, doing
+battle for his country, that it should not be delivered into the hands
+of the enemy; but as for Polynices he bade them leave his body to be
+devoured by the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field, because
+he had joined himself to the enemy, and would have beaten down the
+walls of the city, and burned the temples of the gods with fire, and
+led the people captive. Also he commanded that if any man should break
+this decree he should suffer death by stoning.
+
+Now Antigone, who was sister to the two princes, heard that the decree
+had gone forth, and chancing to meet her sister Ismene before the
+gates of the palace, spake to her, saying:
+
+"O my sister, hast thou heard this decree that the King hath put forth
+concerning our brethren that are dead?"
+
+Then Ismene made answer: "I have heard nothing my sister, only that we
+are bereaved of both of our brethren in one day, and that the army of
+the Argives is departed in this night that is now past. So much I
+know, but no more."
+
+"Hearken then. King Creon hath made a proclamation that they shall
+bury Eteocles with all honour; but that Polynices shall lie unburied,
+that the birds of the air and the beasts of the field may devour him;
+and that whosoever shall break this decree shall suffer death by
+stoning."
+
+"But if it be so, my sister, how can we avail to change it?"
+
+"Think whether or no thou wilt share with me the doing of this deed."
+
+"What deed? What meanest thou?"
+
+"To pay due honour to this dead body."
+
+"What? Wilt thou bury him when the King hath forbidden it?"
+
+"Yea, for he is my brother and also thine, though, perchance, thou
+wouldst not have it so. And I will not play him false."
+
+"O my sister, wilt thou do this when Creon hath forbidden it?"
+
+"Why should he stand between me and mine?"
+
+"But think now what sorrows are come upon our house. For our father
+perished miserably, having first put out his own eyes; and our mother
+hanged herself with her own hands; and our two brothers fell in one
+day, each by the other's spear; and now we two only are left. And
+shall we not fall into a worse destruction than any, if we transgress
+these commands of the King? Think, too, that we are women and not men,
+and of necessity obey them that are stronger. Wherefore, as for me, I
+will pray the dead to pardon me, seeing that I am thus constrained;
+but I will obey them that rule."
+
+"I advise thee not, and, if thou thinkest thus, I would not have thee
+for helper. But know that I will bury my brother, nor could I better
+die than for doing such a deed. For as he loved me, so also do I love
+him greatly. And shall not I do pleasure to the dead rather than to
+the living, seeing that I shall abide with the dead for ever? But
+thou, if thou wilt, do dishonour to the laws of the gods?"
+
+"I dishonour them not. Only I cannot set myself against the powers
+that be."
+
+"So be it; but I will bury my brother."
+
+"O my sister, how I fear for thee!"
+
+"Fear for thyself. Thine own lot needeth all thy care."
+
+"Thou wilt at least keep thy counsel, nor tell the thing to any man."
+
+"Not so: hide it not. I shall scorn thee more if thou proclaim it not
+aloud to all."
+
+So Antigone departed; and after a while came to the same place King
+Creon, clad in his royal robes, and with his sceptre in his hand, and
+set forth his counsel to the elders who were assembled, how he had
+dealt with the two princes according to their deserving, giving all
+honour to him that loved his country and casting forth the other
+unburied. And he bade them take care that this decree should be kept,
+saying that he had also appointed certain men to watch the dead body.
+
+But he had scarcely left speaking when there came one of these same
+watchers and said:
+
+"I have not come hither in haste, O King, nay, I doubted much, while I
+was yet on the way, whether I should not turn again. For now I
+thought, 'Fool, why goest thou where thou shalt suffer for it'; and
+then, again, 'Fool, the King will hear the matter elsewhere, and then
+how wilt thou fare?' But at the last I came as I had purposed, for I
+know that nothing may happen to me contrary to fate."
+
+"But say," said the King, "what troubles thee so much?"
+
+"First hear my case. I did not the thing, and know not who did it, and
+it were a grievous wrong should I fall into trouble for such a
+cause."
+
+"Thou makest a long preface, excusing thyself, but yet hast, as I
+judge, something to tell."
+
+"Fear, my lord, ever causeth delay."
+
+"Wilt thou not speak out thy news and then begone?"
+
+"I will speak it. Know then that some man hath thrown dust upon this
+dead corpse, and done besides such things as are needful."
+
+"What sayest thou? Who hath dared to do this deed?"
+
+"That I know not, for there was no mark as of spade or pick-axe; nor
+was the earth broken, nor had wagon passed thereon. We were sore
+dismayed when the watchman showed the thing to us; for the body we
+could not see. Buried indeed it was not, but rather covered with dust.
+Nor was there any sign as of wild beast or of dog that had torn it.
+Then there arose a contention among us, each blaming the other, and
+accusing his fellows, and himself denying that he had done the deed or
+was privy to it. And doubtless we had fallen to blows but that one
+spake a word which made us all tremble for fear, knowing that it must
+be as he said. For he said that the thing must be told to thee, and in
+no wise hidden. So we drew lots, and by evil chance the lot fell upon
+me. Wherefore I am here, not willingly, for no man loveth him that
+bringing evil tidings."
+
+Then said the chief of the old men:
+
+"Consider, O King, for haply this thing is from the gods."
+
+But the King cried:
+
+"Thinkest thou that the gods care for such an one as this dead man,
+who would have burnt their temples with fire, and laid waste the land
+which they love, and set at naught the laws? Not so. But there are
+men in this city who have long time had ill will to me, not bowing
+their necks to my yoke; and they have persuaded these fellows with
+money to do this thing. Surely there never was so evil a thing as
+money, which maketh cities into ruinous heaps, and banisheth men from
+their houses, and turneth their thoughts from good unto evil. But as
+for them that have done this deed for hire, of a truth they shall not
+escape, for I say to thee, fellow, if ye bring not here before my eyes
+the man that did this thing, I will hang you up alive. So shall ye
+learn that ill gains bring no profit to a man."
+
+So the guard departed; but as he went he said to himself:
+
+"Now may the gods grant that the man be found; but however this may
+be, thou shalt not see me come again on such errand as this, for even
+now have I escaped beyond all hope."
+
+Notwithstanding, after a space he came back with one of his fellows;
+and they brought with them the maiden Antigone, with her hands bound
+together.
+
+And it chanced that at the same time King Creon came forth from the
+palace. Then the guard set forth the thing to him, saying:
+
+"We cleared away the dust from the dead body, and sat watching it. And
+when it was now noon, and the sun was at his height, there came a
+whirlwind over the plain, driving a great cloud of dust. And when this
+had passed, we looked, and lo! this maiden whom we have brought hither
+stood by the dead corpse. And when she saw that it lay bare as before,
+she sent up an exceeding bitter cry, even as a bird whose young ones
+have been taken from the nest. Then she cursed them that had done this
+deed; and brought dust and sprinkled it upon the dead man, and poured
+water upon him three times. Then we ran and laid hold upon her, and
+accused her that she had done this deed; and she denied it not. But as
+for me, 'tis well to have escaped from death, but it is ill to bring
+friends into the same. Yet I hold that there is nothing dearer to a
+man than his life."
+
+Then said the King to Antigone:
+
+"Tell me in a word, didst thou know my decree?"
+
+"I knew it. Was it not plainly declared?"
+
+"How daredst thou to transgress the laws?"
+
+"Zeus made not such laws, nor Justice that dwelleth with the gods
+below. I judged not that thy decrees had such authority that a man
+should transgress for them the unwritten sure commandments of the
+gods. For these, indeed, are not of to-day or yesterday, but they live
+for ever, and their beginning no man knoweth. Should I, for fear of
+thee, be found guilty against them? That I should die I knew. Why not?
+All men must die. And if I die before my time, what loss? He who
+liveth among many sorrows even as I have lived, counteth it gain to
+die. But had I left my own mother's son unburied, this had been loss
+indeed."
+
+Then said the King:
+
+"Such stubborn thoughts have a speedy fall, and are shivered even as
+the iron that hath been made hard in the furnace. And as for this
+woman and her sister--for I judge her sister to have had a part in
+this matter--though they were nearer to me than all my kindred, yet
+shall they not escape the doom of death. Wherefore let some one bring
+the other woman hither."
+
+And while they went to fetch the maiden Ismene, Antigone said to the
+King:
+
+"Is it not enough for thee to slay me? What need to say more? For thy
+words please me not nor mine thee. Yet what nobler thing could I have
+done than to bury my mother's son? And so would all men say but fear
+shutteth their mouths."
+
+"Nay," said the King, "none of the children of Cadmus thinketh thus,
+but thou only. But, hold, was not he that fell in battle with this man
+thy brother also?"
+
+"Yes, truly, my brother he was."
+
+"And dost thou not dishonour him when thou honourest his enemy?"
+
+"The dead man would not say it, could he speak."
+
+"Shall then the wicked have like honour with the good?"
+
+"How knowest thou but that such honour pleaseth the gods below?"
+
+"I have no love for them I hate, though they be dead."
+
+"Of hating I know nothing: 'tis enough for me to love."
+
+"If thou wilt love, go love the dead. But while I live no woman shall
+rule me."
+
+Then those that had been sent to fetch the maiden Ismene brought her
+forth from the palace. And when the King accused her that she had been
+privy to the deed she denied not, but would have shared one lot with
+her sister.
+
+But Antigone turned from her, saying:
+
+"Not so; thou hast no part or lot in the matter. For thou hast chosen
+life, and I have chosen death; and even so shall it be."
+
+And when Ismene saw that she prevailed nothing with her sister, she
+turned to the King and said:
+
+"Wilt thou slay the bride of thy son?"
+
+"Ay," said he, "there are other brides to win!"
+
+"But none," she made reply, "that accord so well with him."
+
+"I will have no evil wives for my sons," said the King.
+
+Then cried Antigone:
+
+"O Haemon, whom I love, how thy father wrongeth thee!"
+
+Then the King bade the guards lead the two into the palace. But
+scarcely had they gone when there came to the place the Prince Haemon,
+the King's son, who was betrothed to the maiden Antigone. And when the
+King saw him, he said:
+
+"Art thou content, my son, with thy father's judgment?"
+
+And the young man answered:
+
+"My father, I would follow thy counsels in all things."
+
+Then said the King:
+
+"'Tis well spoken, my son. This is a thing to be desired, that a man
+should have obedient children. But if it be otherwise with a man, he
+hath gotten great trouble for himself, and maketh sport for them that
+hate him. And now as to this matter. There is naught worse than an
+evil wife. Wherefore I say let this damsel wed a bridegroom among the
+dead. For since I have found her, alone of all this people, breaking
+my decree, surely she shall die. Nor shall it profit her to claim
+kinship with me, for he that would rule a city must first deal justly
+with his own kindred. And as for obedience, this it is that maketh a
+city to stand both in peace and in war."
+
+To this the Prince Haemon made answer:
+
+"What thou sayest, my father, I do not judge. Yet bethink thee, that I
+see and hear on thy behalf what is hidden from thee. For common men
+cannot abide thy look if they say that which pleaseth thee not. Yet do
+I hear it in secret. Know then that all the city mourneth for this
+maiden, saying that she dieth wrongfully for a very noble deed, in
+that she buried her brother. And 'tis well, my father, not to be
+wholly set on thy thoughts, but to listen to the counsels of others."
+
+"Nay," said the King; "shall I be taught by such an one as thou?"
+
+"I pray thee regard my words, if they be well, and not my years."
+
+"Can it be well to honour them that transgress? And hath not this
+woman transgressed?"
+
+"The people of this city judgeth not so."
+
+"The people, sayest thou? Is it for them to rule, or for me?"
+
+"No city is the possession of one man only."
+
+So the two answered one the other, and their anger waxed hot. And at
+the last the King cried:
+
+"Bring this accursed woman, and slay her before his eyes."
+
+And the Prince answered:
+
+"That thou shalt never do. And know this also, that thou shalt never
+see my face again."
+
+So he went away in a rage; and the old men would have appeased the
+King's wrath, but he would not hearken to them, but said that the two
+maidens should die.
+
+"Wilt thou then slay them both?" said the old men.
+
+"'Tis well said," the King made answer. "Her that meddled not with the
+matter I harm not."
+
+"And how wilt thou deal with the other?"
+
+"There is a desolate place, and there I will shut her up alive in a
+sepulchre; yet giving her so much of food as shall quit us of guilt in
+the matter, for I would not have the city defiled. There let her
+persuade Death whom she loveth so much, that he harm her not."
+
+So the guards led Antigone away to shut her up alive in the sepulchre.
+But scarcely had they departed when there came an old prophet
+Tiresias, seeking the King. Blind he was, so that a boy led him by the
+hand; but the gods had given him to see things to come.
+
+And when the King saw him he asked:
+
+"What seekest thou, wisest of men?"
+
+Then the prophet answered:
+
+"Hearken, O King, and I will tell thee. I sat in my seat, after my
+custom, in the place whither all manner of birds resort. And as I sat
+I heard a cry of birds that I knew not, very strange and full of
+wrath. And I knew that they tare and slew each other, for I heard the
+fierce flapping of their wings. And being afraid, I made inquiry about
+the fire, how it burned upon the altars. And this boy, for as I am a
+guide to others so he guideth me, told me that it shone not at all,
+but smouldered and was dull, and that the flesh which was burnt upon
+the altar spluttered in the flame, and wasted away into corruption and
+filthiness. And now I tell thee, O King, that the city is troubled by
+thy ill counsels. For the dogs and the birds of the air tear the flesh
+of this dead son of Oedipus, whom thou sufferest not to have due
+burial, and carry it to the altars, polluting them therewith.
+Wherefore the gods receive not from us prayer or sacrifice; and the
+cry of the birds hath an evil sound, for they are full of the flesh of
+a man. Therefore I bid thee be wise in time. For all men may err; but
+he that keepeth not his folly, but repenteth, doeth well; but
+stubbornness cometh to great trouble."
+
+Then the King answered:
+
+"Old man, I know the race of prophets full well, how ye sell your art
+for gold. But, make thy trade as thou wilt, this man shall not have
+burial; yea, though the eagles of Zeus carry his flesh to their
+master's throne in heaven, he shall not have it."
+
+And when the prophet spake again, entreating him, and warning, the
+King answered him after the same fashion, that he spake not honestly,
+but had sold his art for money.
+
+But at the last the prophet spake in great wrath, saying:
+
+"Know, O King, that before many days shall pass, thou shalt pay a life
+for a life, even one of thine own children, for them with whom thou
+hast dealt unrighteously, shutting up the living with the dead, and
+keeping the dead from them to whom they belong. Therefore the Furies
+lie in wait for thee, and thou shalt see whether or no I speak these
+things for money. For there shall be mourning and lamentation in thine
+own house; and against thy people shall be stirred up many cities. And
+now, my child, lead me home, and let this man rage against them that
+are younger than I."
+
+So the prophet departed, and the old men were sore afraid, and said:
+
+"He hath spoken terrible things, O King; nor ever since these gray
+hairs were black have we known him say that which was false."
+
+"Even so," said the King, "and I am troubled in heart, and yet am
+loath to depart from my purpose."
+
+"King Creon," said the old men, "thou needest good counsel."
+
+"What, then, would ye have done?"
+
+"Set free the maiden from the sepulchre, and give this dead man
+burial."
+
+Then the King cried to his people that they should bring bars
+wherewith to loosen the doors of the sepulchre, and hastened with them
+to the place. But coming on their way to the body of Prince Polynices,
+they took it up, and washed it, and buried that which remained of it,
+and raised over the ashes a great mound of earth. And this being done,
+they drew near to the place of the sepulchre; and as they approached,
+the King heard within a very piteous voice, and knew it for the voice
+of his son. Then he bade his attendants loose the door with all speed;
+and when they had loosed it, they beheld within a very piteous sight.
+For the maiden Antigone had hanged herself by the girdle of linen
+which she wore, and the young man Prince Haemon stood with his arms
+about her dead body, embracing it. And when the King saw him, he cried
+to him to come forth; but the Prince glared fiercely upon him and
+answered him not a word, but drew his two-edged sword. Then the King,
+thinking that his son was minded in his madness to slay him, leapt
+back, but the Prince drave the sword into his own heart, and fell
+forward on the earth, still holding the dead maiden in his arms. And
+when they brought the tidings of these things to Queen Eurydice, the
+wife of King Creon and mother to the Prince, she could not endure the
+grief, being thus bereaved of her children, but laid hold of a sword,
+and slew herself therewith.
+
+So the house of King Creon was left desolate unto him that day,
+because he despised the ordinances of the gods.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+IPHIGENIA
+
+
+King Agamemnon sat in his tent at Aulis, where the army of the Greeks
+was gathered together, being about to sail against the great city of
+Troy. It was now past midnight. But the King slept not, for he was
+careful and troubled about many things. And he had a lamp before him,
+and in his hand a tablet of pine wood, whereon he wrote. But he seemed
+not to remain in the same mind about that which he wrote; for now he
+would blot out the letters, and then would write them again; and now
+he fastened the seal upon the tablet and then brake it. And as he did
+this he wept, and was like to a man distracted. But after a while he
+called to an old man, his attendant (the man had been given in time
+past by Tyndareus to his daughter, Queen Clytaemnestra), and said:
+
+"Old man, thou knowest how Galchas the soothsayer bade me offer for a
+sacrifice to Artemis, who is goddess of this place, my daughter
+Iphigenia, saying that so only should the army have a prosperous
+voyage from this place to Troy, and should take the city and destroy
+it; and how when I heard these words I bade Talthybius the herald go
+throughout the army and bid them depart, every man to his own country,
+for that I would not do this thing; and how my brother, King Menelaus,
+persuaded me so that I consented to it. Now, therefore, hearken to
+this, for what I am about to tell thee three men only know, namely,
+Calchas, the soothsayer, and Menelaus, and Ulysses, King of Ithaca. I
+wrote a letter to my wife the Queen, that she should send her daughter
+to this place, that she might be married to King Achilles; and I
+magnified the man to her, saying that he would in no wise sail with us
+unless I would give him my daughter in marriage. But now I have
+changed my purpose, and have written another letter after this
+fashion, as I will now set forth to thee: 'DAUGHTER OF LEDA, SEND
+NOT THY CHILD TO THE LAND OF EUBOEA, FOR I WILL GIVE HER IN MARRIAGE
+AT ANOTHER TIME.'"
+
+"Ay," said the old man, "but how wilt thou deal with King Achilles?
+Will he not be wroth, hearing that he hath been cheated of his wife?"
+
+"Not so," answered the King, "for we have indeed used his name, but he
+knoweth nothing of this marriage. And now make haste. Sit not thou
+down by any fountain in the woods, and suffer not thine eyes to sleep.
+And beware lest the chariot bearing the Queen and her daughter pass
+thee where the roads divide. And see that thou keep the seal upon this
+letter unbroken."
+
+So the old man departed with the letter. But scarcely had he left the
+tent when King Menelaus spied him and laid hands on him, taking the
+letter and breaking the seal. And the old man cried out:
+
+"Help, my lord; here is one hath taken thy letter!"
+
+Then King Agamemnon came forth from his tent, saying:
+
+"What meaneth this uproar and disputing that I hear?"
+
+But even as he spake there came a messenger, saying:
+
+"King Agamemnon, I am come, as thou badest me, with thy daughter
+Iphigenia. Also her mother, Queen Clytaemnestra, is come, bringing
+with her her little son, Orestes. And now they are resting themselves
+and their horses by the side of a spring, for indeed the way is long
+and weary. And all the army is gathered about them. And men question
+much wherefore they are come, saying, 'Doth the King make a marriage
+for his daughter; or hath he sent for her, desiring to see her?'"
+
+King Agamemnon was sore dismayed when he knew that the Queen was come,
+and spake to himself:
+
+"Now what shall I say to my wife? For that she is rightly come to the
+marriage of her daughter who can deny? But what will she say when she
+knoweth my purpose? And of the maiden, what shall I say? Unhappy
+maiden whose bridegroom shall be Death! For she will cry to me, 'Wilt
+thou kill me, my father?' And the little Orestes will wail, not
+knowing what he doeth, seeing he is but a babe."
+
+And now King Menelaus came, saying that he repented, "For why should
+thy child die for me? What hath she to do with war? Let the army be
+scattered, so that wrong be not done."
+
+Then said King Agamemnon:
+
+"But how shall I escape from this strait? For the whole host will
+compel me to this deed?"
+
+"Not so," said King Menelaus, "if thou wilt send back the maiden to
+Argos."
+
+"But what shall that profit," said the King; "for Calchas will cause
+the matter to be known; or Ulysses, saying that I have failed of my
+promise; and if I fly to Argos, they will come and destroy my city and
+lay waste my land. Woe is me! in what a strait am I set! But take
+care, my brother, that Clytaemnestra hear nothing of these things."
+
+When he had ended speaking, the Queen herself came unto the tent,
+riding in a chariot, having her daughter by her side. And she bade one
+of the attendants take out with care the caskets which she had brought
+for her daughter and bade others help her daughter to alight, and
+herself also, and to a fourth she said that he should take the young
+Orestes. Then Iphigenia greeted her father, saying:
+
+"Thou hast done well to send for me, my father."
+
+"'Tis true and yet not true, my child."
+
+"Thou lookest not well pleased to see me, my father."
+
+"He that is a king and commandeth a host hath many cares."
+
+"Put away thy cares awhile, and give thyself to me."
+
+"I am glad beyond measure to see thee."
+
+"Glad art thou? Then why dost thou weep?"
+
+"I weep because thou must be long time absent from me."
+
+"Perish all these fightings and troubles!"
+
+"They will cause many to perish, and me most miserably of all."
+
+"Art thou going a journey from me, my father?"
+
+"Ay, and thou also hast a journey to make."
+
+"Must I make it alone, or with my mother?"
+
+"Alone; neither father nor mother may be with thee."
+
+"Sendest thou me to dwell elsewhere?"
+
+"Hold thy peace: such things are not for maidens to inquire."
+
+"Well, my father, order matters with the Phrygians, and then make
+haste to return."
+
+"I must first make a sacrifice to the gods."
+
+"'Tis well. The gods should have due honour."
+
+"Ay, and thou wilt stand close to the altar."
+
+"Shall I lead the dances, my father?"
+
+"O my child, how I envy thee, that thou knowest naught! And now go
+into the tent; but first kiss me, and give me thy hand, for thou shalt
+be parted from thy father for many days."
+
+And when she was gone within, he cried:
+
+"O fair bosom and very lovely cheeks and yellow hair of my child! O
+city of Priam, what woe thou bringest on me! But I must say no more."
+
+Then he turned to the Queen, and excused himself that he wept when he
+should rather have rejoiced for the marriage of his daughter. And when
+the Queen would know of the estate of the bridegroom, he told her that
+his name was Achilles, and that he was the son of Peleus and Thetis,
+daughter of Nereus of the sea, and that he dwelt in Phthia. And when
+she inquired of the time of the marriage, he said that it should be in
+the same moon, on the first lucky day; and as to the place, that it
+must be where the bridegroom was sojourning, that is to say, in the
+camp. "And I," said the King, "will give the maiden to her husband."
+
+"But where," answered the Queen, "is it your pleasure that I should
+be?"
+
+"Thou must return to Argos, and care for the maidens there."
+
+"Sayest thou that I return? Who then will hold up the torch for the
+bride?"
+
+"I will do that which is needful. For it is not seemly that thou
+shouldst be present where the whole army is gathered together."
+
+"Ay, but it is seemly that a mother should give her daughter in
+marriage."
+
+"But the maidens at home should not be left alone."
+
+"They are well kept."
+
+"Be persuaded, lady."
+
+"Not so; thou shalt order that which is without the house, but I that
+which is within."
+
+But now came Achilles, to tell the King that the army was growing
+impatient, saying, that unless they might sail speedily, they would
+return each man to his home. And when the Queen heard his name--for he
+had said to the attendant, "Tell thy master that Achilles, the son of
+Peleus, would speak with him"--she came forth from the tent and
+greeted him, and bade him give her his right hand. And when the young
+man was abashed she said:
+
+"But why art thou abashed, seeing that thou art about to marry my
+daughter?"
+
+And he answered:
+
+"What sayest thou, lady? I cannot speak for wonder at thy words."
+
+"Often men are ashamed when they see new friends, and the talk is of
+marriage."
+
+"But lady, I never was suitor for thy daughter. Nor have the sons of
+Atreus said aught to me of the matter."
+
+The Queen was beyond measure astonished, and cried:
+
+"Now this is shameful indeed, that I should seek a bridegroom for my
+daughter in such fashion."
+
+But when Achilles would have departed, to inquire of the King what
+this thing might mean, the old man that had at the first carried the
+letter came forth, and bade him stay. And when he had assurance that
+he would receive no harm for what he should tell them, he unfolded
+the whole matter. And when the Queen had heard it, she cried to
+Achilles:
+
+"O son of Thetis of the sea! help me now in this strait, and help this
+maiden that hath been called thy bride! 'Twill be a shame to thee if
+such wrong be done under thy name; for it is thy name that hath undone
+us. Nor have I any altar to which I may flee, nor any friend but thee
+only in this army."
+
+Then Achilles made answer:
+
+"Lady, I learnt from the most righteous of men to be true and honest.
+Know, then, that thy daughter, seeing that she hath been given, though
+but in word only, to me, shall not be slain by her father. For if she
+so die, then shall my name be brought to great dishonour, since
+through it thou hast been persuaded to come with her to this place.
+This sword shall see right soon whether anyone will dare to take this
+maiden from me."
+
+And now King Agamemnon came forth, saying that all things were ready
+for the marriage, and that they waited for the maiden.
+
+"Tell me," cried the Queen, "dost thou purpose to slay thy daughter
+and mine?" And when he was silent, not knowing, indeed, what to say,
+she reproached him with many words, that she had been a loving and
+faithful wife to him, for which he made an ill recompense slaying her
+child.
+
+And when she had made an end of speaking, the maiden came forth from
+the tent, holding the young child Orestes in her arms, and cast
+herself upon her knees before her father, and besought him, saying:
+
+"I would, my father, that I had the voice of Orpheus, who made even
+the rocks to follow him, that I might persuade thee; but now all that
+I have I give, even these tears. O my father, I am thy child; slay me
+not before my time. This light is sweet to look upon. Drive me not
+from it to the land of darkness. I was the first to call thee father;
+and the first to whom thou didst say 'my child.' And thou wouldst say
+to me, 'Some day, my child, I shall see thee a happy wife in the home
+of a husband.' And I would answer, 'And I will receive thee with all
+love when thou art old, and pay thee back for all the benefits thou
+hast done unto me.' This I indeed remember, but thou forgettest; for
+thou art ready to slay me. Do it not, I beseech thee, by Pelops thy
+grandsire, and Atreus thy father, and this my mother. And thou, O my
+brother, though thou art but a babe, help me. Weep with me; beseech
+thy father that he slay not thy sister. O my father, though he be
+silent, yet, indeed, he beseecheth thee. For his sake, therefore, yea,
+and for mine own, have pity upon me, and slay me not."
+
+But the King was sore distracted, knowing not what he should say or
+do, for a terrible necessity was upon him, seeing that the army could
+not make their journey to Troy unless this deed should first be done.
+And while he doubted came Achilles, saying that there was a horrible
+tumult in the camp, the men crying out that the maiden must be
+sacrificed, and that when he would have stayed them from their
+purpose, the people had stoned him with stones. Nevertheless, he said
+that he would fight for the maiden, even to the utmost; and that there
+were faithful men who would stand with and help him. But when the
+maiden heard these words, she stood forth and said:
+
+"Hearken, my mother. Be not wroth with my father, for we cannot fight
+against Fate. Also we must take thought that this young man suffer
+not, for his help will avail naught, and he himself will perish.
+Therefore I am resolved to die. All Greece looketh to me. Without me
+the ships cannot make their voyage, nor the city of Troy be taken.
+Wherefore I will give myself for the people. Offer me for an offering;
+and let the Greeks take the city of Troy, for this shall be my
+memorial for ever."
+
+Then said Achilles:
+
+"Lady, I should count myself most happy if the gods would grant thee
+to be my wife. For I love thee well, when I see thee how noble thou
+art. And if thou wilt, I will carry thee to my home. And I doubt not
+that I shall save thee, though all the men of Greece be against me."
+
+But the maiden answered:
+
+"What I say, I say with full purpose. Nor will I that any man should
+die for me, but rather will I save this land of Greece."
+
+And Achilles said:
+
+"If this be thy will, lady, I cannot say nay. It is a noble thing that
+thou doest."
+
+Nor was the maiden turned from her purpose though her mother besought
+her with many tears. So they that were appointed led her to the grove
+of Artemis, where there was built an altar, and the whole army of the
+Greeks gathered about. When the King saw her going to her death he
+covered his face with his mantle; but she stood by him, and said:
+
+"I give my body with a willing heart to die for my country and for the
+whole land of Greece. I pray the gods that ye may prosper, and win the
+victory in this war, and come back safe to your homes. And now let no
+man touch me, for I will offer my neck to the sword with a good
+heart."
+
+And all men marvelled to see the maiden of what a good courage she
+was. Then the herald Talthybius stood in the midst and commanded
+silence to the people; and Calchas the soothsayer put a garland about
+her head, and drew a sharp knife from his sheath. And all the army
+stood regarding the maiden and the priest and the altar.
+
+Then there befell a marvellous thing. Calchas struck with his knife,
+for the sound of the stroke all men heard, but the maiden was not
+there. Whither she had gone no one knew; but in her stead there lay a
+great hind, and all the altar was red with the blood thereof.
+
+And Calchas said:
+
+"See ye this, men of Greece, how the goddess hath provided this
+offering in the place of the maiden, for she would not that her altar
+should be defiled with innocent blood. Be of good courage, therefore,
+and depart every man to his ship, for this day ye shall sail across
+the sea to the land of Troy."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+PAULA
+
+
+In the city of Rome when its imperial strength had faded, to seek
+pleasure and to give one's self to display had taken the place of
+honest work and sober duty. The time of which we speak was the fourth
+century. Affairs of government had been moved to Constantinople, and
+the effects of the conduct of great matters in their midst was thus
+denied the Romans.
+
+The populace, fed for ages on public doles and the terrible gaiety of
+gladiatorial shows had become thoroughly debased, and unable to work
+out their own bettering. The persons having riches were likewise
+degraded by a life of luxury and senseless extravagance. Men of that
+type aired themselves in lofty chariots, lazily reclining and showing
+to advantage their carefully curled hair, robes of silk embroidery and
+tissue of gold, to excite the admiration and envy of plainer livers.
+Their horses' harness would be covered with ornaments of gold, their
+coachmen armed with a golden wand instead of whip, and troups of
+slaves, parasites and other servitors would dance attendance about
+them. With such display the poor rich creatures would pass through the
+streets, pushing out of the way or trampling and crushing to the dust
+whomsoever they might chance to meet--very much as some automobilists
+act to-day. Brutality and senseless show always are hand in glove with
+each other.
+
+The rich women of Rome well matched such men. Their very shoes
+crackled under their feet from excess of gold and silver ornament.
+Their dresses of cloth-of-gold or other expensive stuff were so heavy
+that the wearers could hardly walk, even with the aid of attendants.
+Their faces were often painted and their hair dyed and mounted high on
+the head in monstrous shapes and designs.
+
+Creeping into such a life as we have just been describing came the
+pure and simple precepts of Jesus--and they doubtless found many a
+soul athirst and sick with folly and coarse regard for riches. For
+years the Christians had been persecuted and many of their number
+gaining the strength that poverty and persecution bring. In opposition
+to the luxury-loving spirit, also, had risen among a number an austere
+denial of all pleasure, and such persons sought a solitary life in a
+cave or other retired spot. The deserts were mined with caverns and
+holes in the sand in which hermits dwelt, picking up food as best they
+might, their bones rattling in a skin blackened by exposure--they were
+starving, praying and agonising for the salvation of their own souls
+and for a world sunk in luxury and wickedness.
+
+Now and then one of these hermits would leave his country solitariness
+and go to some city with a mission of converting vice to virtue. Among
+these was a man whom we know as Jerome, or Saint Jerome. He was a
+native of a village on the slope of the Illyrian Alps, and his full
+name was Eusebius Hieronymus. Inflamed with a zeal for doing great
+works, loving controversy and harsh and strong in conflict, Jerome
+sought Rome after years of study and prayer in the desert. In Rome he
+came to be a frequenter of a palace on the Aventine in which a number
+of rich and influential women held meetings for Christian teaching and
+sought a truer and purer life.
+
+Of all these women we best know Paula. No fine lady of that day was
+more exquisite, more fastidious, more splendid than she. She could not
+walk abroad without the support of servants, nor cross the marble
+floor from one silken couch to another, so heavily was gold interwoven
+in the tissue of her dresses. Her eldest daughter, Blaesilla, a widow
+at twenty, was a Roman exquisite, loving everything soft and
+luxurious. It was said of her that she spent entire days before her
+mirror giving herself to personal decoration--to the tower of curls on
+her head and the touch of rouge on her cheeks. Paula's second
+daughter, Paulina, had married a young patrician who was Christian.
+
+The third member of the family, a girl of sixteen, was Eustochium, a
+character strongly contrasting with her beautiful mother and sister.
+Even in early years she had fixed her choice upon a secluded life and
+shown herself untouched by the gaudy luxury about her. And to this the
+following pretty story will bear witness. An aunt of hers was
+Praetextata, wife of a high official of the Emperor Julian, and like
+the Emperor a follower of the old faith in the gods rather than the
+new faith in the teachings of Jesus. The family of Paula were,
+however, as we said, Christian.
+
+This aunt Praetextata saw with some impatience and anger what she
+considered the artificial gravity of her youthful niece, and when she
+heard that the maid had said she intended never to marry, and purposed
+to withdraw from the world, she invited Eustochium to her house on a
+visit. The young vestal donned her brown gown, the habit of humility,
+and all unsuspicious sought her aunt. She had scarcely found herself
+within the house, however, before she was seized by favourite maids,
+who were interested in the plot. They loosed Eustochium's long hair
+and elaborated it in curls and plaits; they took away her little brown
+gown and covered her with silk and cloth-of-gold; they hung upon her
+precious ornaments, and finally led her to the mirror to dazzle her
+eyes with the reflection she would find in the polished surface.
+
+The little maid with the Greek name and pure heart, let them turn her
+round and round and praise her fresh and youthful beauty. But she was
+a girl who knew her mind, and was blessed with a natural seriousness.
+Her aunt's household she permitted to have their pleasure that day.
+Then again she donned her little brown gown; and wore the habit all
+her life.
+
+To return to Jerome: he had hardly arrived in Rome when he was made
+secretary of a council held in that city by ecclesiastics in the year
+382. During his stay he dwelt in the house upon the Aventine in which
+such women as Paula had been meeting. The little community were now
+giving up their excessive luxuries and were devoting their time and
+income to good works, to visiting the poor, tending the sick and
+founding the first hospitals. To the man of the desert the gentle life
+must have been more agreeable. In this retreat he accomplished the
+first portion of his great work, the first authoritative translation
+of the entire Canon of Scripture--the Vulgate--so named when the Latin
+of Jerome was the language of the crowd.
+
+But he did not work alone. Paula and other women of the community
+helped in the translation. They studied with enthusiasm the
+Scriptures in Hebrew and in Greek; they discussed phrases difficult of
+understanding, and often held their own opinions against the learned
+Jerome whose scribes they were willing to be.
+
+Thus began the friendship between Paula and Jerome, which was deepened
+by the death of Blaesilla. This eldest daughter of Paula had a serious
+illness. One night, in a dream or vision, Jesus seemed to appear to
+her and take her by the hand and say, "Arise, come forth." Waking, she
+seemed to sit at the table like Mary of Bethany. From that night her
+whole life was changed. She gathered together her embroidered robes
+and her jewels and sold them for the poor. Instead of torturing her
+head with a mitre of curls, she wore a simple veil. A woollen cord,
+dark linen gown and common shoes replaced the gold embroidered girdle,
+the glistening silks and the golden-heeled shoes. She slept upon a
+hard couch. Like others of her family she was finely intelligent, and
+she became one of the "apprentices" of Jerome, who wrote for her a
+commentary on the book of Ecclesiastes, "Vanity of Vanities."
+
+Her conversion was enduring, but her health failed. In a few months
+another attack of fever laid her low. Her funeral was magnificent.
+Paula, according to Roman custom, accompanied her child's body to the
+tomb of her ancestors, wild with grief, lamenting, and, at last,
+fainting, so that she was borne away as one dead.
+
+The people were enraged. They accused Jerome, and other "detestable
+monks" of killing the young widow with austerities. "Let them," they
+said; "be stoned and thrown into the Tiber."
+
+For days Paula wept and refused to see her friends. Jerome, because he
+had understood, loved and reverenced her child, she consented to
+admit. Paula listened to his telling her that she "refused nourishment
+not from love of fasting, but from love of sorrow"; that "the spirit
+of God descends only upon the humble," and she arose and went forth.
+Nothing ever interrupted the friendship which from that time made the
+joy of her life and of Jerome's.
+
+It was in the summer of 385, nearly three years after his coming to
+Rome, and not a year after the death of Blaesilla, that Jerome left
+"Babylon," as he called the tumultuous city. An affectionate company
+followed him to the seaport. Soon after Paula prepared for her
+departure, dividing her patrimony among her children. Her daughter,
+Paulina, was now married to a good and faithful husband, and these two
+undertook the charge and rearing of their youngest sister and the
+little Toxotius, a boy of ten. The grave young Eustochium, her head
+now covered by the veil of the devotee, clung to her mother's side, a
+serene figure in the midst of all the misunderstanding and agitation
+of the parting.
+
+Friends poured forth from the city to accompany them to the port, and
+all the way along the winding banks of the Tiber they plied Paula with
+entreaties and reproaches and tears. She made no answer. She was at
+all times slow to speak, the chronicle tells us. She freighted a ship
+at the port, Ostia, and retained her self-command until the vessel
+began to move from the shore where stood her son Toxotius stretching
+out his hands to her in last appeal, and by his side his sister
+Rufina, with wistful eyes. Paula's heart was like to burst. She turned
+her eyes away, unable to bear the sight, and would have fallen but
+for the support of the firm Eustochium standing by her mother's side.
+
+The rich Roman lady, luxury-loving, had become a pilgrim. She had,
+however, according to the interpretation of the Christian spirit of
+that day, in renouncing her former life and all its belongings, set
+aside natural ties. Now she was going forth to make herself a home in
+the solitude of Bethlehem.
+
+Her ship was occupied by her own party alone, and carried much baggage
+for this emigration for life. It came, hindered by no storms, to
+Cyprus, where old friends received Paula with honour, and conducted
+her to visit monks and nuns in their new establishments. She afterward
+proceeded to Antioch, where Jerome joined the party, and then along
+the coast of Tyre and Sidon, by Herod's splendid city of Caesarea and
+by Joppa rich with memories of the early apostles of their faith.
+Paula, the pilgrim, was no longer a tottering fine lady, but a strong,
+animated, interested traveller.
+
+The little company continued on their tour for a year. They first
+paused, at Jerusalem, and here the tender, enthusiasm of Paula found
+its fullest expression. She went in a rapture of tears and exaltation
+from one to another of the sacred sites. She kissed the broken stone
+which was supposed to have been that rolled against the door of the
+Holy Sepulchre, and trod with pious awe the path to the cave where the
+True Cross was found. The legend of Helena's finding the cross was
+still fresh in those days, and doubts there were none.
+
+The ecstasies and joy of Paula, which found their expression in
+rapturous prayers and tears, moved all Jerusalem. The city was
+thronged with pilgrims, and the great Roman lady became their wonder.
+The crowd followed her from point to point, marvelling at her frank
+emotion and the warmth of her natural feeling.
+
+From Jerusalem the party set out to journey through the storied
+deserts of Syria. This was in the year 387. They stopped everywhere to
+visit those monasteries built in awful passes of the rocks and upon
+stony wastes that the penance of the indwellers might be the greater.
+They found shelter with tanned and weather-beaten hermits in their
+holes and caverns. They poured upon them enthusiastic admiration, and
+shared with them their Arab bread and clotted milk, and also gave many
+an alm. Paula fascinated by the desert, would stay there and found a
+convent. But Jerome prevailed upon her to turn toward Jerusalem.
+
+Thus they came to green Bethlehem, and the calm sweetness of the place
+and its pleasant fields smote their hearts. Here they determined to
+settle and build two convents--Jerome's upon the hill near the western
+gate and Paula's upon the smiling level below. He is said to have sold
+all that he had, and all that his brother, his faithful and constant
+companion, had, to gain money for the expense of his building. Paula,
+doubtless, had ample means from her former great wealth. Indeed, after
+her own was builded she had two other convents put up near by, and
+these were soon filled with devotees.
+
+Also, she built a hospice for the reception of travellers, so that, as
+she said with tender smile and tears in eyes, "If Joseph and Mary
+should return to Jerusalem, they might be sure of finding room for
+them in the inn." This gentle speech shines like a gleam of light upon
+the little holy city, and shows us the noble, natural kindness of
+Paula, and how profoundly she had been moved by associations to her
+most sacred and holy. Every poor pilgrim passing her door must to her
+sympathetic heart have had some semblance to that simple pair who
+carried the Light of the World to David's little town among the hills.
+
+Paula now laying aside wholly the luxurious habits of her life, set
+the example of simple and industrious living by washing floors and
+cleaning lamps and other household work. But she was far from ceasing
+her studies.
+
+Jerome every day laboured at his great translation, and Paula and
+Eustochium copied, compared and criticised his daily labours. A great
+part of the Vulgate he had completed in Rome. His two friends had,
+doubtless, shared his studies during their long journey. They now read
+with him every day a portion of the Scriptures in the original; and it
+was at their entreaty and with their help that he began the
+translation of the Psalms. The following is a sympathetic description
+of the method of this work as it was carried out in the rocky chamber
+at Bethlehem, or in the convent close by:
+
+    His two friends charged themselves with the task of collecting
+    all the materials, and this edition, prepared by their care, is
+    that which remains in the Church under Jerome's name.... It is
+    pleasant to think of the two noble Roman ladies seated before
+    the vast desk upon which were spread the numerous manuscripts,
+    Greek, Hebrew and Latin... whilst they examined and compared,
+    reducing to order under their hands, with piety and joy, that
+    Psalter of St. Jerome which is still sung to-day.
+
+So on a whole their days passed in fruitful labour. Jerome held a
+school for boys and young men, in which he taught the classics. But
+his great work, and the great work of Paula and Eustochium, was the
+translation of the Bible into what was then the speech of the people.
+For this they spared no pains nor costs. They must have found a quiet
+happiness above all they had calculated in this work. Their minds and
+thoughts must have been held by the charm of the noble poetry, by the
+puzzle of words to be cleared and read aright, by the constant
+interest of accomplishment that every sunrise brought to them, and
+brings ever to steadfast workers in these days.
+
+And so they dwelt, the gentle Paula, a woman of courtesy, high spirit,
+steadfastness and gracious, sprightly humour; Eustochium, the grave
+young daughter who never left her mother's side, whose gentle shadow
+is one with her mother's; and Jerome, the greatest writer of his time,
+the mighty controversialist, a man evidently a well of force and
+sympathy, the kind friend and fellow-worker. Every day the three had
+conferences as to the most accurate renderings possible, and at all
+times the greatest respect for the scholarship and acuteness of one
+another. Amid them was the pleasant stir of independent opinion.
+
+In the books that went forth from that seclusion in Bethlehem we find
+such an inscription as this:
+
+    You, Paula, and Eustochium, who have studied so deeply the books
+    of the Hebrews, take it, this book of Esther, and test it word
+    by word; you can tell whether anything is added, anything
+    withdrawn: and can bear faithful witness whether I have rendered
+    aright in Latin this Hebrew history.
+
+Between these zealous workers in Bethlehem and the old Christian
+friends in Rome letters were constantly passing. And as the years of
+her absence grew, Paula, in time, heard of the marriage of Toxotius,
+who, a little boy of ten, had held out begging hands to her as her
+ship set sail from the port of Rome. Anon came the joyful news that a
+daughter had been born and named after her grandmother, Paula. The
+baby's mother, Leta, looking forward with early longings for the
+child's future, at once wrote to Jerome about the education of the
+little one.
+
+The great writer's first thought, amidst his joyous congratulations,
+is the probable conversion of the baby's maternal grandfather,
+Albinus, a follower of the old gods.
+
+"Albinus is already a candidate for the faith," he writes, "a crowd of
+sons and grandsons besiege him. I believe, on my part, that if Jupiter
+himself had such a family he would be converted to Jesus Christ."
+
+Then Jerome gives, with tender detail, the counsels as to education
+for which Leta had asked. But he adds:
+
+    "It will be difficult to bring up thy little daughter thus at
+    Rome. Send her to Bethlehem; she will repose in the manger of
+    Jesus. Eustochium wishes for her; trust the little one with her.
+    Let this new Paula be cradled on the bosom of her grandmother.
+    Send her to me; I will carry her on my shoulders, old man as I
+    am. I will make myself a child with her; I will lisp to fit her
+    speech; and, believe me, I shall be prouder of my employment
+    than ever Aristotle was of his" [as tutor to Alexander.]
+
+The invitation was accepted. In a few years the little maiden was
+indeed sent to Bethlehem, though not till after the death of her
+grandmother Paula. And it was the child, the younger Paula, who at
+last closed the eyes of Jerome.
+
+Paula, the grandmother, did not live long after the birth of her
+namesake. Her last illness was beginning. Eustochium watched her night
+and day, entrusting to no one else the tender last cares--sustaining
+the drooping head, warming the cold feet, feeding the weakened body,
+and making the invalid's bed. If the mother fell asleep for a little
+while, the daughter would go for prayers to the Manger, close at hand
+and sanctified by its tender associations of motherhood.
+
+But the precious life was slowly ebbing away. Knowing that her end was
+near, Paula began to repeat with great joy the verses of the Psalms
+she knew so well:
+
+    "Lord, I have loved the habitation of Thy house, and the place
+    where Thine honour dwelleth!"; "How amiable are Thy tabernacles,
+    O Lord God of hosts! My soul longeth, yea, fainteth, for the
+    courts of the house of my God."; "Better to be a doorkeeper in
+    the house of my God than to dwell in the tents of wickedness."
+
+When she had finished, she began to say these songs of the threshold
+over again. She did not answer when spoken to, until Jerome came and
+asked gently why she did not speak and if she suffered. Then she
+answered in Greek, the language of her father and of her childhood,
+that she had no discomfort, but was "beholding in a vision all quiet
+and tranquil things." "I feel already an infinite peace," she said.
+And still she continued to murmur at intervals the words of that
+ancient song of pilgrimage until her voice grew fainter and fainter,
+and with the sigh of longing for God's presence on her lips she
+entered it forever.
+
+All Palestine may be said to have assisted at her funeral. A chorus of
+psalms and lamentations sounded forth in all languages--Hebrew, Greek,
+Latin. Hermits crept out of their caves, and monks came in throngs
+from their monasteries to bewail their generous friend, this great
+Roman lady, this devoted Christian. During her last days bishops from
+the neighbouring dioceses had gathered round her and her coffin was
+borne on their heads into the basilica of the Manger.
+
+And there all the poor, the widowed and orphans lamented "their
+foster-mother," "their mother," and showed the gifts she had given
+them and the garments she had made for them. Eustochium could with
+difficulty be prevailed to leave her. She stayed kissing the cold
+lips, and at last, her grief breaking through the usual calm of her
+life, throwing her arms about the unconscious form and praying to be
+buried beside her.
+
+Paula died at fifty-six. She had spent the last eighteen years of her
+life in Palestine.
+
+Jerome, for the first time in his laborious life, lost his appetite
+for work. He could do no more. "I have been able to do nothing, not
+even from the Scriptures, since the death of the holy and gracious
+Paula," he wrote. "Grief overwhelms me."
+
+Eustochium, with the instinct of true affection, drew him out of this
+stupor by inducing him to write a memoir of her mother for her. In two
+sleepless nights he dictated it. "He could not write himself. Each
+time that he took up the tablets his fingers stiffened and the stylus
+fell from his hand. He could not dwell," he said, "on her great
+pedigree from the Scipios, the Gracchi, from Agamemnon, nor on her
+splendid opulence and her palace at Rome. She had preferred Bethlehem
+to Rome. Her praise was that she died poorer than the poorest she had
+succoured. At Rome she had not been known beyond Rome. At Bethlehem
+all Christendom, Roman and barbarian, revered her."
+
+"We weep not her loss; we thank God to have had her. Nay! we have her
+always, for all live by the spirit of God; and the elect who ascend to
+Him remain still always in the family of those He loves."
+
+Eustochium quietly took up the guidance of her mother's convents and
+hospice and gently urged Jerome to resume his work. Writing almost
+countless letters, translating and commenting on the Scriptures he
+passed still many years, and at last, dying, at his own wish his body
+was buried in a hollow of the rocks at Bethlehem. To this day, it is
+said, his name can still be traced graven in the rock.
+
+In the fifteen hundred years that have passed since the death of
+Paula, the homes of piety and charity established by her strength and
+love have been swept away. No tradition even of their site is left.
+But with one storied chamber is connected a warm interest. It is the
+rocky room, in one of the half caves, half excavations, close to that
+of the Nativity, and communicating with it by rudely hewn stairs and
+passages. In this, the legend runs, Jerome established himself while
+his convent was building. He called it his paradise. Sunlit from
+above, with prayer and the music of alleluias sounding there night and
+day, brightened by the glow of the pure affections of Paula and
+Eustochium and sanctified by their great work, from it flowed rivers
+of water to refresh the earth.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+JOAN OF ARC
+
+
+On the 6th of January, 1412, Jeanne d'Arc, or, as we call her, Joan of
+Arc, was born at Domremy, a little village on the left bank of the
+Meuse, on land belonging to the French crown. Her parents, Jacques
+d'Arc and Isabelle Romee, were simple peasants, "of good life and
+reputation," who brought up their children to work hard, fear God and
+honour the saints. Besides Joan, they had four children--three sons,
+Jacques, Jean and Pierre, and a daughter, Catherine.
+
+Joan's native valley was fair and fertile. The low hills that bounded
+it were covered with thick forests, and the rich meadows along the
+Meuse were gay with flowers, which gave to the chief town in the
+district its name of Vaucouleurs, _Vallis colorum_. Domremy, built on
+a slope, touched upon those flowery meadows, but over the hill behind
+it spread an ancient oakwood, the _Bois Chesnu_ of legend and
+prophecy. Between the forest and the village rose solitary a great
+beech, "beautiful as a lily," about which the country people told a
+thousand tales. They called it the "Fairies' Tree," the "Tree of the
+Ladies," the "Beautiful May." In old times the fairies had danced
+round it, and under its shadow a noble knight had formerly dared to
+meet and talk with an elfin lady.
+
+But now, in Joan's time, the presence of the fairies was less
+certain, for the priest of Domremy came once a year to say mass under
+the tree, and exorcise it and a spring that bubbled up close by. On
+festival days the young villagers hung it with garlands, danced and
+played round it, and rested under its boughs to eat certain cakes
+which their mothers had made for them. During her childhood, Joan
+brought her cakes and garlands like the rest, danced with them, and
+sang more than she danced; but as she grew older, she would steal away
+and carry her flowers to the neighbouring chapel of Our Lady of
+Domremy.
+
+Her early years were, considering the times, quiet and peaceful. With
+the war raging between English and French and their allies, to its
+west and north, Domremy had comparatively little to do. News of
+English successes, of French defeats, and the sorrows of the French
+King, were brought by fugitives from the war, by travelling monks, and
+other wanderers. Joan helped to receive those wayfarers, waited on
+them, gave up her own bed to them sometimes; and what they told of the
+woes of France she heard with intense sympathy, and pondered in her
+heart.
+
+Her bringing up fitted her for the tender fulfilling of all womanly
+duties. Unlike most girls of her class, she had few outdoor tasks, but
+spent most of her time at her mother's side, doing the work of the
+house, learning to sew and spin, to repeat the Belief, and the legends
+of the saints. Her work done, her dearest pleasure was to go to the
+village church, which was close to her father's cottage, and there
+kneel in prayer, gaze on the pictured angels, or listen to the bells
+calling the faithful to worship: she had always a peculiar delight in
+the sound of church bells. She fasted regularly, and went often to
+confession; so often, that her young companions were inclined to jest
+at her devotion, and even her chosen friends, Haumette and Mengette,
+half-scolded her for being over-religious. But her faith bore sound
+fruit. The little money she got she gave in alms. She nursed the sick,
+she was gentle to the young and weak, obedient to her parents, kind to
+all. "There was no one like her in the village," said her priest. "She
+was a good girl," testified an old peasant, "such a daughter as I
+would gladly have had." A good girl, indeed: they were pure and
+helpful hands that for a while held the fate of France.
+
+There was a prophecy current during that unhappy time--an old prophecy
+of Merlin--which the suffering people had taken and applied to their
+own day and their own need. "The kingdom, lost by a woman, was to be
+saved by a woman." The woman who had lost it was Isabeau, of Bavaria,
+the wicked queen, the false wife of Charles VI, the unnatural mother.
+Who was she that should save it? In the east of France it was said
+that the deliverer would be a maid from the marshes of Lorraine.
+
+Joan knew the ancient prophecy, and in her young mind it became
+blended with legends of the saints, with stories of Bible heroines,
+with her own ardent faith and high aspirations. She loved more and
+more to be alone. Night and day the wonderful child brooded on the
+sorrows of France. She sent out her vague hopes and yearnings in tears
+and prayers, and passionate thoughts that were prayers, and they all
+came back to her with form and sound, in the visions and voices that
+were henceforth to be the rulers of her life.
+
+They came first when she was thirteen years old. On a summer's day,
+at noon, she was in her father's garden, when suddenly by the church
+there appeared a great light, and out of the light a voice spoke to
+her, "Joan, be a good child; go often to church." She was frightened
+then, but both voice and brightness came again and again, and grew
+dear and familiar. Noble shapes appeared in the glory. St. Michael
+showed himself to her; St. Catherine and St. Margaret bent over her
+their radiant heads, bidding her "be good; trust in God." They told
+her of "the sorrow there was in the kingdom of France," and warned her
+that one day it would be her mission to go and carry help to the King.
+
+While to outward eyes she lived as usual, she had a life apart, given
+to God and her saints. She vowed her virginity to Heaven, but of her
+vow and the visions that had led her to it she told no one, not even
+the priest. Her meditations, her prayers and unearthly friendships,
+made of her no sickly dreamer nor hot brained fanatic. She grew up
+strong, tall and handsome, with a healthy mind in her healthy body.
+
+Meanwhile the dangers of France darkened and thickened. The war was
+pushing southward; the English leader, Salisbury, was on his way to
+Orleans; the French King, Charles, poor, indolent, ill-advised, was
+deliberating whether he should retreat into Dauphine, or Spain, or
+Scotland.
+
+Joan's voices grew more frequent and more urgent. Their word now was
+always, "Go--go into France!" At last they had told her the way: "Go
+to Vaucouleurs, to Robert de Baudricourt, the governor; he will give
+you men-at-arms, and send you to the King."
+
+It was now that Joan's trial began. While her beautiful visitors had
+spoken vaguely of some "deliverance" she was to bring about in the
+future, she had listened with trembling joy. But now they had plainly
+shown her the distasteful first step, and for a moment she shrank from
+taking it. How could a peasant brave the governor of Vaucouleurs? How
+was a modest girl to venture among rude men-at-arms? How could a
+dutiful child leave her parents and her home?
+
+"Alas!" she pleaded, "I am a poor girl; I know neither how to ride nor
+how to fight." She had a short, hard struggle with her own weakness,
+but the voices did not alter, and she set herself to do their bidding.
+
+Her uncle, Durant Laxart, with whom she evidently was a favourite,
+lived at a village near Vaucouleurs, and in May, 1428, she went to his
+house for a visit. After a few days she confided to him something of
+her plans, reminding him of the old prophecy of Merlin, but never
+speaking of her visions. With much difficulty she prevailed on him to
+help her. He went with her to Vaucouleurs, and before the governor, to
+whom she made known her errand.
+
+"Send and tell the Dauphin," she said, "to wait and not offer battle
+to his enemies, because God will give him help before mid-Lent. The
+kingdom belongs not to the Dauphin, but to my Lord; but my Lord wills
+that the Dauphin shall be king, and hold it in trust. In spite of his
+enemies he shall be king, and I myself shall lead him to be crowned."
+
+"And who is your Lord?" demanded Baudricourt. She answered, "The King
+of Heaven."
+
+The governor, a rough and practical soldier, laughed at the young
+peasant in her coarse red dress, and bade her uncle chastise her well,
+and take her home to her father.
+
+She returned to Domremy with her heart more than ever fixed on the
+work she had before her. Now and again she let fall words that
+revealed enough to make her parents anxious and fearful. Her father
+dreamed that she had gone away with the soldiers. "If I thought such a
+thing could happen," he said to her brothers, "I would bid you drown
+her, and if you refused, I would drown her myself." But she was of a
+marriageable age; why should she not marry, stay at home, and bring up
+children, like other women? A lover came forward, a bold one, who,
+when she rejected him, summoned her before the court at Toul,
+declaring that she had promised to be his wife. But she went before
+the judges, spoke out bravely, and defeated her persevering suitor.
+
+As the months passed, her longing increased to be gone and do her
+voices' bidding. Once more she obtained her uncle's help. His wife was
+ill, and he came to Domremy and got leave for Joan to go back with him
+and nurse her. She went, keeping secret the real end of her journey.
+"If I had had a hundred fathers and a hundred mothers," she said
+later, "and if I had been a king's daughter, I should have gone." She
+took leave of her companion Mengette, but to Haumette, her dearer
+friend, she would not trust herself to say farewell. Her uncle took
+her to Vaucouleurs, and gave her in charge of a wheelwright's wife,
+Catherine Royer, with whom she lived for some weeks. She went
+constantly to church, she helped her hostess in the house, and was
+gentle and obedient. At the same time, she spoke frankly of her
+mission to any who chose to hear.
+
+She again went to the governor, who received her no better than
+before. But she was not cast down.
+
+"I must go to the Dauphin," she said, "though I should go on my
+knees."
+
+Many people went to see her, among others a brave gentleman of Metz,
+Jean de Novelonpont.
+
+"What are you doing here, my child?" he asked her, jestingly. "Shall
+the King be driven out of France, and must we all turn English?"
+
+"I am come to this royal city," she answered, "to bid Robert de
+Baudricourt take or send me to the King, but he does not heed my
+words; and yet before mid-Lent I must be before the King, though I
+should wear away my legs to the knees. For no one else in the world,
+neither kings, nor dukes, can recover the kingdom of France, and there
+is no help but in me. And, indeed, I would rather spin with my poor
+mother, for this is not my calling; but I must go and do it, for it is
+my Lord's will."
+
+Like Baudricourt, the knight asked her:
+
+"Who is your lord?"
+
+And she answered, "He is God."
+
+But, unlike Baudricourt, he was touched by her words. In the old
+feudal fashion, he laid his hands within hers and vowed that, by God's
+help, he would take her to the King. Another worthy gentleman,
+Bertrand de Poulengy, gave a like promise.
+
+Baudricourt was now forced to listen to Joan. The people of
+Vaucouleurs believed in her with the ready faith of that time, and she
+had at least two of his own class to take her part. But those voices
+of hers, were they of God or of the Devil? Was she witch or saint? The
+governor, like many another good soldier, had some weakness of
+superstition. He went to see her, taking with him a priest, who began
+to exorcise her, bidding her avaunt if she were of the Evil One. Joan
+approached the priest and knelt before him, honouring not him, but his
+office; for, as she said afterwards, he had not done well; he should
+have known that no evil spirit spoke by her.
+
+While she was waiting Baudricourt's pleasure, the Duke of Lorraine,
+who was ill at Nancy, heard of her, and, hoping for the revelation of
+some cure, desired to see her. He sent her a safe-conduct, and she
+went to Nancy under care of her uncle. But she knew only what her
+voices taught, and she had no power to cure any ills but those of
+France. This she told the Duke, promising him her prayers, and begging
+him to aid in her enterprise. He sent her back honourably, but did not
+pledge himself to the royal cause.
+
+The people of Vaucouleurs came forward to help Joan. They gave her a
+horse, and the dress and equipment of a soldier; for as she was to
+travel with men, she wisely chose to wear man's attire. Baudricourt
+still doubted and delayed. The people she was sojourning with pitied
+her anxiety. On the day of the battle of Rouvray she went to the
+governor.
+
+"In God's name," she said, "you are too slow about sending me. To-day
+the Dauphin has suffered great loss near Orleans, and he is in danger
+of yet greater if you do not send me to him soon."
+
+At last he yielded to her urgency. He gave her a sword and a letter to
+the King, and let her prepare to depart. Bertrand de Poulengy, Jean de
+Novelonpont, and four armed men of lesser rank were to accompany her.
+She did not see her parents to bid them farewell, but she sent them a
+letter, entreating them to pardon her. She spoke cheerily to those who
+were afraid for her safety. God and "her brothers of Paradise" would
+guard her and her little escort on their dangerous journey.
+
+On February 23, 1429, they set out, Baudricourt bidding her "Go, come
+of it what may."
+
+Her most timid well-wisher could hardly have exaggerated the perils of
+the journey. More than half of it was through the enemy's country,
+where there was continual risk of being stopped and questioned. The
+rivers, swollen by the winter rains, were unfordable; therefore the
+travellers had to cross over bridges in full sight of fortified towns.
+
+On the eleventh day of their journey the Maid and her party reached
+St. Catherine de Fierbois, near Chinon, where they rested, and Joan
+heard three masses. She sent a letter to Charles requesting an
+audience, and telling him she had come a hundred and fifty leagues to
+help him.
+
+An interview with Charles was no such simple affair as she had
+fancied. Between her and him were doubts, jealousies, intrigues. But
+her friends prevailed, and after two days' waiting she was admitted to
+the castle. As she was passing through the gate, a man-at-arms called
+out,
+
+"What, is that the Maid?" and added a coarse jest and an oath.
+
+Joan turned and looked gravely at him.
+
+"Alas!" she said, "you blaspheme God, and you are so near your death!"
+Within an hour the man was drowned by accident, and those words of
+hers were repeated far and wide as a proof of her prophetic power.
+
+The Count of Vendome led her into the royal presence. She entered
+meekly, but undismayed; in her visions she had seen finer company
+than any earthly court could show her. Charles stood among the crowd
+of nobles, and when she knelt before him he pointed to a
+richly-dressed lord, saying:
+
+"That is the King, not I."
+
+But she knew the King, probably from descriptions she had heard of
+him, and answered:
+
+"In God's name, gracious Prince, you are he, and none other." She then
+repeated to him the words which, like a charm, had brought her so far
+and overcome so much; "I am Joan the Maid, sent by God to save
+France," and she asked him for troops, that she might go and raise the
+siege of Orleans.
+
+Presently the Duke of Alencon came in, and the King having told her
+who he was, she bade him welcome.
+
+"The more there are of the blood-royal of France," she said, "the
+better it will be."
+
+Alencon, who had lately returned from a three years' captivity in
+England, and was still paying a ruinous ransom, sympathised with the
+girl-champion, and was inclined to believe in her.
+
+The King and his advisers went cautiously to work.
+
+They sent two monks to Domremy to inquire into Joan's character and
+past life. They called her now and again to Court, where statesmen and
+churchmen questioned her closely. Meanwhile, she was honourably
+treated. She was given to the charge of Bellier, the King's
+lieutenant, whose wife was a lady of virtue and piety, and many
+distinguished persons visited her at the castle where she was lodged.
+One day she rode with the lance before the King, and acquitted herself
+so well that the Duke of Alencon rewarded her with the gift of a
+beautiful horse. Could she have at all forgotten her mission, the
+time would have passed pleasantly; as it was, she wearied for action.
+
+At last she sought the King, and said to him:
+
+"Gracious Dauphin"--until Charles was anointed at Reims with the
+sacred oil, he was no real king in her eyes--"Gracious Dauphin, why
+will you not believe me? I tell you, God has pity on you, your kingdom
+and people."
+
+To satisfy all doubts about Joan, it was settled that she should be
+taken to Poitiers, where the Parliament was assembled, and be there
+questioned by a royal commission.
+
+"In God's name, let us go," she said; "I shall have hard work, but my
+Lord will help me."
+
+She was lodged in the house of the advocate-general to the Parliament,
+and committed to his wife's care. The Archbishop of Reims called
+together churchmen and learned doctors. The Commissioners met, and,
+having called Joan, showed her "by good and fair arguments" that she
+was unworthy of belief. They reasoned with her for more than two
+hours, and she answered them so well that they were amazed. In spite
+of their expressed distrust, she spoke to them freely and fully, told
+how her voices had bidden her go into France, how she had wept at
+their command and yet obeyed it, how she had come safely, because she
+was doing the will of God.
+
+"You require an army," said one, "saying it is God's will that the
+English shall quit France. If that be so, there is no need for
+men-at-arms, because God can drive them away by His pleasure."
+
+"The men-at-arms shall fight," she answered, "and God shall give the
+victory"; and the monk confessed that she had answered well.
+
+When the examination had dragged on for three weeks, two of the
+doctors came one day to question her, bringing with them the King's
+equerry, whom she had known at Chinon. She clapped him, comrade-like,
+on the shoulder, exclaiming:
+
+"Would that I had many more men of as good will as you!" Then turning
+to the doctors, she said, "I believe you are come to catechise me.
+Listen!--I know neither A nor B, but there is more in God's books than
+in yours. He has sent me to save Orleans and crown the King."
+
+She demanded paper and ink. "Write what I tell you!" she said, and
+dictated to the amazed scholars the famous letter which soon after was
+sent to the English.
+
+The grave and stern commissioners were won by the young peasant. None
+of them bore her any grudge for the occasional sharpness of her
+replies. Many of them believed firmly that she was inspired, and
+quoted the old prophecy of Merlin, who had foretold the coming of a
+maid who should deliver France. All of them trusted in her good faith,
+and appreciated more or less the influence she would have over the
+people. They advised, almost commanded, Charles to employ her. Her
+life, they said, has been carefully inquired into; for six weeks she
+has been kept near the King; persons of all ranks, men and women, have
+seen and talked with her, and have found in her only "goodness,
+humility, chastity, devotion, seemliness and simplicity." She has
+promised to show her sign before Orleans: let the King send her there,
+for to reject her would be to reject the Holy Spirit.
+
+Besides her learned judges, she had others, whom had she been an
+impostor, she would have found hard to deceive. Keen women's eyes had
+been set to watch her, and had seen no fault in her. The ladies who
+came to see the warrior-damsel were amazed to find her a mere girl,
+"very simple, and speaking little." Her goodness and innocence moved
+them to tears. She prayed them to pardon her for the man's attire she
+wore; but in that lawless day the most modest women must have well
+understood that such a dress was fittest and safest for her who had to
+live among men.
+
+Towards the end of April she was sent to Tours, where a military staff
+was appointed her. Her brothers, Jean and Pierre, who had followed
+her, were included in her retinue. A suit of beautiful armour was made
+for her. She was provided with a banner after her own device--white,
+embroidered with lilies: on one side of it, a picture of God enthroned
+on clouds and holding a globe in His hand; on the other, the shield of
+France, supported by two angels. She had also a pennon, whereon was
+represented the Annunciation. The King would have given her a sword,
+but her voices, she said, had told her of the only one she might use,
+an ancient weapon with five crosses on its blade, which was lying
+buried behind the altar in the church of St. Catherine de Fierbois. A
+messenger was sent, and in the place she had told of was found an old
+rusty sword such as she had described. After being polished, it was
+brought to her with two rich scabbards, one of crimson velvet, the
+other of cloth-of-gold; but the practical Maid got herself yet another
+of strong leather for daily wear.
+
+Joan, being accepted, the National party made rapid preparations for
+the relief of Orleans.
+
+Her first care was that the army given her by God should be worthy of
+His favour. For the priests attached to it, she had a banner made with
+a picture of the Crucifixion, beneath which they said mass and sang
+hymns to the Virgin morning and evening.
+
+On Thursday, April 28th, the relieving army set out from Blois, the
+priests going before and singing the _Veni Creator_ round their banner
+of the Cross. Joan wished to march along the north bank of the Loire,
+and through the line of English forts; her voices, she said, had told
+her that the convoy would pass them without hurt. But the captains,
+who had little faith in her revelations, preferred keeping the river
+between themselves and the chief bastiles of the enemy. They had
+orders, however, to obey the Maid, so, to avoid contradicting her,
+they misled her as to the position of Orleans; crossing the bridge at
+Blois, they advanced by the south bank of the stream. When night came,
+the army encamped on the plain, and Joan, who lay down in her armour,
+arose bruised and weary for the next day's march. But all her fatigue
+was forgotten when she saw how she had been deceived.
+
+Dunois, with a following of knights and citizens, came up the river to
+welcome the convoy. When he approached Joan, she asked him:
+
+"Are you the bastard of Orleans?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, "and I am glad of your coming."
+
+"And did you advise that I should be brought by this side of the
+river, and not straight to the English?"
+
+He answered that it was so, he and the council having judged it
+safest.
+
+"In God's name," she said, "my Lord's counsel is safer and wiser than
+yours. You thought to deceive me, but you have deceived yourselves,
+for I bring you the best help that ever knight or city had; for it is
+God's help, not sent for love of me, but by God's pleasure."
+
+At eight that evening she entered Orleans, riding a white horse, her
+standard carried before her. The people thronged to meet her, wild
+with joy, "as if she had been an angel of God." "They felt comforted
+and, as it were, dis-besieged by the divine virtue there was said to
+be in that simple Maid." They crowded so upon her, that one of their
+torches set fire to the border of her standard, and when she bent
+forward and crushed out the flame, the little brave action seemed a
+miracle to the excited multitude. After returning thanks to God in the
+cathedral, she rode to the house of Jacques Boucher, treasurer to the
+Duke of Orleans, and was hospitably received by his wife and his young
+daughter Charlotte, whom she took to share her chamber during her stay
+in the city.
+
+The next Sunday, May 1st, Dunois went to fetch the army from Blois.
+The Maid rode with him a little way, and he and his following passed
+unmolested by the English forts. The days of his absence were spent by
+Joan in making friends with the citizens, in attending mass and riding
+out to reconnoitre the enemy's siege-works. The enthusiastic people
+followed her everywhere, fearing nothing so long as they were near
+her. On Tuesday some reinforcements arrived, and news came that the
+army was on its way.
+
+This time they took the northern side of the river, and on May 4th
+Joan went a league out of the city to meet them. The whole army passed
+the line of forts and entered Orleans. The besiegers made no sign, and
+it is not wonderful that the English soldiers, seeing that strange
+apathy of their leaders, believed Joan to be a witch, whose arts it
+would be useless to resist.
+
+The same day, towards evening she lay down to rest, but suddenly she
+started up and called her squire, saying, "My counsel tells me to go
+against the English." While he was arming her, she heard voices in the
+street shouting that the French were suffering loss. She rushed out,
+and meeting her page on the way:
+
+"Ah, graceless boy!" she exclaimed, "you never told me the blood of
+France was being spilt."
+
+Her hostess finished arming her, then she sprang upon her horse, took
+her standard which the page handed her out of a window, and galloped
+to the eastern gate, her horse's hoofs striking sparks as she passed.
+
+For the first time she now saw real war, and her courage did not fail.
+Standing at the edge of the fosse, she urged her men on to the
+assault. This first success, moderate in itself, was of immense value
+to the National party, for it restored to the French that faith in
+themselves of which the long series of their defeats had almost
+deprived them. And their reverse had as great an effect upon the
+English. Their failure appeared to them out of the natural course of
+events, a wicked miracle, a thing brought about by sorcery. The brave
+yeomen of Henry V were learning to fear.
+
+On Friday, May 6th, Joan and about 3,000 men crossed to an island, in
+the Loire, passed from it to the shore by an extempore bridge of two
+boats, and planted her standard before the rampart of the Augustins.
+But her troops had not all crossed from Orleans, and those who were
+with her, seeing that the English were coming to reinforce their
+fellows, were seized with fear, and hurried back to the boats. The
+garrison rushed out and pursued the fugitives with jeers and insults.
+The defeat of the French appeared certain, but Joan, who had been
+trying to cover the retreat, faced round, and with a small brave
+company charged the pursuers. The panic was on their side now. They
+saw the Witch of France riding down upon them, her charmed standard
+flying, her eyes flashing with terrible wrath, and they turned and
+fled before her. Once more she planted her flag before the rampart,
+and this time she was well supported. The bastile was taken after an
+obstinate defence, and to prevent riot and pillage she ordered it to
+be set on fire.
+
+She would gladly have stayed with her soldiers who were left that
+night to be ready for the next day's assault, but the chiefs, seeing
+that she was very weary, persuaded her to return with them into
+Orleans. They had another reason for parting her from the troops.
+While she was resting they held a council, and agreed not to renew the
+attack on the morrow, but recall the troops into the city, which was
+now well victualled, and there await reinforcements. A knight was sent
+to tell her of their over-cautious decision:
+
+"God had already done much to help them; now they would wait."
+Wait!--how Joan must have hated that word! "You have been in your
+council," she said, "and I have been in mine. Be sure that God's
+counsel will hold good and come to pass, and that all other counsel
+shall perish."
+
+Then she turned to Pasquerel, who was standing near.
+
+"Rise early to-morrow," she said, "and keep near me all day, for I
+shall have much to do, and blood shall flow above my breast."
+
+She rose at dawn, and after hearing mass, started for the assault. Her
+host urged her to take food before going; a shad was being got ready,
+he told her.
+
+"Keep it till evening," she said, gaily, "I will come back over the
+bridge."
+
+If the French fought for the deliverance of Orleans and the kingdom,
+the English were defending their ancient glory and their own lives;
+the fort once taken, there would be small chance of escape for any of
+its garrison. Under cannon-fire and through flights of arrows, the
+assailants leaped into the fosse and swarmed up the escarpment, "as if
+they believed themselves immortal."
+
+The English met them at the top; again and again they were driven
+back, again and again the Maid cheered them on, crying:
+
+"Fear not!--the place is yours!"
+
+At last, as if to force victory, she sprang into the fosse, and was
+setting a scaling-ladder against the wall when an arrow pierced her
+between the neck and shoulder. She was carried to a place of shelter,
+weeping for pain and fright; but her strong courage soon reasserted
+itself; she drew out the arrow with her own hand, and had the wound
+dressed with oil, forbidding the men-at-arms to "charm" it, as they in
+their superstitious kindness wanted to do. She then confessed herself,
+and so, hastened back to the rampart.
+
+There was no success yet for the French, and the captains came to
+Joan, telling her they intended to retire and suspend the attack until
+next day. She besought them to persevere. She tried to break their
+resolve with brave words. She went to Dunois with prayers and
+promises.
+
+"In God's name, you shall enter shortly. Doubt not, and the English
+shall have no more power over you!"
+
+Her entreaties prevailed. Then she ordered the men to rest a while,
+eat and drink, and when they had done so, bade them renew the attack
+"in God's name."
+
+She mounted her horse again and rode to a vineyard a little way off,
+where, out of the turmoil of battle, she prayed a few minutes. On her
+return she stationed herself near the rampart, holding her standard.
+
+"Watch until my banner touches the fort," she said to a gentleman who
+stood near. Presently the wind caught it and blew it against the wall.
+
+"It touches, Joan, it touches!" exclaimed the gentleman.
+
+She cried to the troops:
+
+"Go in now, all is yours!"
+
+By evening Joan reentered Orleans, where she and her men were received
+with great joy, all the bells of the city ringing out the news of
+victory. The Maid's wound was dressed carefully, and after her usual
+supper of bread with a little wine and water, she lay down to sleep.
+
+Very early next morning, those watching in Orleans saw the English
+quit their bastiles and set themselves before the walls in order of
+battle. The alarm was given, and the French, led by Joan, came out of
+the city and ranged themselves in front of their enemies. While the
+armies stood face to face, as it were waiting for a signal to begin to
+fight, Joan had a camp-altar brought, and the priests said mass. Then
+she asked:
+
+"Are the faces of the English towards us, or their backs?"
+
+She was told that they were retreating, and at that moment flames shot
+up from some of their forts which they had set on fire.
+
+"In God's name," said Joan, "let them go. My Lord does not choose
+that we shall fight to-day. You shall have them another time."
+
+Crowds rushed out from Orleans to destroy the unburnt bastiles, and
+dragged back the stores and cannon the English had been obliged to
+leave. But soon the excitement of victory gave way to the enthusiasm
+of thankfulness. A few days ago the city had been surrounded by
+enemies, threatened with the sword, more than threatened by famine.
+But in one marvellous week God and the Maid had delivered it. Now let
+her who had led the people to victory lead them also to give thanks.
+They thronged after her. They followed her from church to church,
+praising God and the saints, God and the Maid, before their rescued
+altars. Night fell on their rejoicings, and early next morning the
+Maid left them, eager to rejoin the King, and render an account of her
+success. Her time for rest was not yet. She had as yet only given the
+sign promised to the doctors of Poitiers--only begun the great work
+she was sent to do.
+
+Scholars, high in place, great in learning, paid her their tribute of
+praise. But the common people were her most eager admirers and lovers.
+During her journey from Orleans to Tours, they crowded about her,
+trying to touch her hands, her dress, the trappings of her horse--even
+stooping down to kiss the hoof-prints of her horse on the road.
+
+Charles came to meet her at Tours. When she knelt before him, he took
+off his cap, as to a queen, raised her, and seemed "as if he gladly
+would have kissed her, for the joy he had." He would have ennobled her
+at once, and he desired her to take for her arms the lilies of France,
+with a royal crown and a sword drawn to defend it. Empty honours and
+easy lip-gratitude were at her service, but she, who had only one
+noble ambition, cared nothing for them. She wanted but one boon from
+the King--ready action. Now was the time to go to Reims, while the
+English were weakened and disheartened. Let the King come--she would
+conduct him there safely and without hindrance--but let him come at
+once, for she had much to do, and little time wherein to do it.
+
+"Make use of me," she pleaded, "for I shall last only one year."
+
+Her bold proposal amazed Charles and his council. Go to Reims, to a
+city held by the English, through a country guarded by hostile troops!
+
+The King, half-persuaded, agreed to go, but not until the English had
+been driven from the Loire. The captains declared that it would be
+unwise to march northward while the southern provinces remained so
+exposed to the enemy, and Joan, whose good sense equalled her courage,
+deferred to their judgment. An army was assembled, and put under
+command of the Duke of Alencon, but the King required him to do
+nothing without the Maid's advice. While she was near Charles, and her
+brave words were in his ears, he almost believed in her.
+
+On the 9th of June, just a month after her departure from Orleans,
+Joan returned there with her army. During the campaign she made the
+city her headquarters, to the delight of its people, who "could not
+have enough of gazing at her." On the 11th she led the troops against
+Jargeau, a strong town, bravely defended, but the assailants had the
+advantage of numbers, and, once their fears were forgotten, went
+boldly to the attack. Joan and the Duke, commanders though they were,
+went down into the fosse like the rest, and the Maid was climbing a
+scaling-ladder, when a stone hurled from the rampart struck her to the
+earth. But she was up in a moment, shouting:
+
+"Friends, friends, go on! Our Lord has condemned the English! They are
+ours! Be of good courage!" The men swarmed over the walls, and the
+place was taken. The more important captives were sent down the Loire
+to Orleans, where Joan and Alencon returned the day after their
+victory. Soon after, near Patay they came upon the English, who had
+been warned of their approach, and were getting ready for battle. The
+Duke asked Joan what was to be done.
+
+"Have you good spurs?" she inquired.
+
+"What!" exclaimed some who stood by; "should we turn our backs?"
+
+"Not so, in God's name!" she answered. "The English shall do that.
+They will be beaten, and you will want your spurs to pursue them."
+
+Some of the chiefs hung back.
+
+"In God's name, we must fight them!" she cried. "Though they were hung
+to the clouds, we should have them. To-day the King shall have the
+greatest victory he has won for long. My counsel tells me they are
+ours."
+
+In slain and prisoners the English lost nearly 3,000 men. Joan was
+very indignant at the cruelty of the victors. Seeing one of them
+strike down a wounded prisoner she sprang from her horse, raised the
+poor soldier in her arms, and held him thus while he confessed to a
+priest whom she had sent for, tenderly comforting him until he died.
+It was always so with her. Before and during the fight she was the
+stern champion of France; but when it was over she became again a
+pitying woman, weeping for her dead enemies, and praying for their
+souls.
+
+Now Joan held her rightful place in the army. Every true and honest
+man believed in her; even those who had doubted her at Orleans
+confessed now not only her goodness and courage, but also the
+instinctive military skill she had shown both in sieges and in the
+field. Soldiers and leaders were alike eager to follow her to Reims.
+With nothing to consult and combat but their frank likes and dislikes,
+her task would have been an easy one; but to do her voices' bidding,
+she had to hew or wind her way through the intrigues of a court.
+
+Charles demurred at going to Reims at all. He hated trouble, and his
+life in the south had been pleasant enough. All Joan's victories had
+as yet done him no substantial good. He was as poor as ever, and the
+excited men who flocked to the Maid's banner were to him objects less
+of pride than of distrust.
+
+The Maid, foreseeing more delays, sick at heart of his apathy, could
+not control her tears, and he, bewildered by a grief he could not
+understand, spoke to her kindly, paid her many compliments, and
+advised her to take some rest. Still weeping, she besought him to have
+faith, promising that he should recover his kingdom and be crowned
+before long.
+
+On Friday, June 24th, she brought the army of the Loire to Gien,
+whence she sent a letter to the loyal city of Tournay, telling its
+people of her late successes, and praying them to come to the
+coronation.
+
+Two days after her arrival at Gien, the justly impatient girl quitted
+the town with some of her troops and encamped in the fields beyond it.
+Her persistence carried the day. On the 29th, the King and an army of
+12,000 men set out for Reims.
+
+On July 5th it reached Troyes. Joan had written to the citizens,
+requiring them to receive the King, and Charles also bade them
+surrender, promising them amnesty and easy terms. But the place was
+well garrisoned, and they determined to resist.
+
+A council was held, and nearly all who were at it advised returning
+southward. But among those faint hearts was one man who believed in
+Joan--the old chancellor--and he spoke boldly for her. "When the King
+undertook this journey, he did it not because of the great might of
+the men-at-arms, nor because of the great wealth he had, nor because
+the journey seemed possible to him, but because Joan told him to go
+forward and be crowned at Reims, such being the good pleasure of God."
+While he was yet speaking, Joan herself knocked at the door. She was
+let in, and the Archbishop told her the cause of the debate.
+
+She turned to the King.
+
+"Will you believe me?" she asked.
+
+"Speak," he replied, "and if you speak reasonably and profitably, we
+will gladly believe you."
+
+"Will you believe me?" she said again.
+
+"Yes," repeated Charles, "according to what you say."
+
+That cold answer might well have checked her, but she spoke on:
+
+"Gracious King of France, if you will remain before your city of
+Troyes, it shall be yours within three days by force or by love--doubt
+it not."
+
+"We would wait six, if we could be sure of having it," said the
+Archbishop.
+
+"Doubt not," she insisted, "you shall have it to-morrow."
+
+It was then evening, but she at once mounted her horse and began
+preparations for an assault. Her energy cheered the soldiers, who were
+weary of inaction. They dragged the cannons into position, and brought
+bundles of wood, doors, furniture, everything they could lay hands on,
+to fill up the fosse. They worked far into the night--leaders, pages,
+men-at-arms alike--Joan directing them "better than two of the best
+captains could have done."
+
+Through that night there was great excitement within Troyes. The
+people had heard of Orleans and Jargeau; they could see and hear
+Joan's preparations. At last they asked loudly why they, French by
+birth, should risk their city and their lives for England. A council
+was held, and the heads of the garrison and the city agreed to
+surrender. Early next morning, just as Joan was giving the signal for
+the assault, the city gates were opened.
+
+The next day, Sunday, the King entered the town in state, attended by
+Joan and his nobles.
+
+They left Troyes, and approached Chalons on the 15th, and at some
+distance from the town were met by a number of citizens who had come
+to offer their submission. At Chalons, Joan had the great joy of
+meeting friends from Domremy. She asked them many questions about her
+home, and they looked with wonder at the girl who lived familiarly
+with princes, and yet spoke and behaved as simply as ever she had done
+in the days of her obscurity. One of them inquired whether she feared
+nothing.
+
+"Nothing but treachery," was her foreboding answer.
+
+When the people of Reims heard that Chalons had submitted, and that
+Charles was within four leagues, they sent deputies to tender their
+obedience, and that same day, Saturday, July 16th, Charles entered the
+city.
+
+Preparations were at once made for his coronation, and early next
+morning four nobles went to the abbey of St. Remi to escort thence the
+ampulla containing the sacred oil which a dove had brought from heaven
+to the saint. The abbot, in full canonicals, carried it to the
+cathedral, where the Archbishop of Reims received it from him, and set
+it on the high altar. Below the altar stood the Dauphin, attended by
+the nobles and clergy who acted as proxies for the peers of France who
+should have been with him. By his side was Joan, holding her sacred
+banner. The ceremony was performed according to the ancient rites, and
+when it was over, Joan knelt at the feet of Charles, her King indeed
+now, crowned and anointed.
+
+"Gracious King," she said, "now is fulfilled the pleasure of God,
+whose will it was that you should come to Reims to receive your worthy
+coronation, showing that you are the true King to whom the kingdom
+should belong." As she spoke she wept, and all who were in the church
+wept for sympathy. Among those who witnessed her triumph was her
+father, who had come to Reims to see her. The good man was honourably
+treated; the corporation of the town paid his expenses, and when he
+returned to Domremy, gave him a horse for the journey.
+
+After his coronation, when Charles was bestowing honours and rewards
+on his followers, Joan asked him for one favour, which he granted
+readily--freedom from taxation for her native Domremy and the
+adjoining village of Greux. For herself she wanted nothing, except
+what she had already claimed and failed to receive, what the King
+never gave her--his trust.
+
+She had given a king to France, now she had to give France to her
+King. She longed to be again at work. Every day of waiting was a day
+of pain to her. Now that her King was crowned, she would have him
+press forward to Paris, defy the English, and startle the disloyal
+French into loyalty; but the evil advice of his courtiers and his own
+indolence made him catch at every excuse for delay.
+
+During the northward march of the army, people from every place on the
+road crowded to welcome Joan and the King, crying, Noel, Noel, and
+singing _Te Deums_ before them. Joan was first. They were glad to have
+a French King again, but their chief love and enthusiasm were for her,
+the heroic girl in shining armour, with her calm face and gentle
+voice. The common folk called her "the angelic"; they sang songs about
+her; images of her were put up in little country churches; a special
+collect was said at mass, thanking God for her having saved France;
+medals were struck in her honour, and worn as amulets. The people
+pressed about her horse, and kissed her hands and feet. She was often
+vexed by this excess of homage, which brought upon her the displeasure
+of many churchmen.
+
+Near Crespy, as she, riding between Dunois and Regnault de Chartres,
+passed through the welcoming crowd, she said:
+
+"What good people! I have yet seen none so joyful at the coming of
+their prince. May I be so happy as to die and be buried in this land!"
+
+"Oh, Joan," said the Archbishop, "in what place do you expect to
+die?"
+
+"Wherever it shall please God," she answered, "for I know not the
+place nor the hour any more than yourself. Would to God that I might
+return now, and lay down my arms, and go back to serve my parents, and
+guard their flocks with my sister and brothers, who would be right
+glad to see me." She must often have longed for her home, but never
+except this once did she express her longing. She had a rare reticence
+for one so young and simple. "She spoke little, and showed a
+marvellous prudence in her words."
+
+Joan greatly desired the King's arrival before Paris, believing that
+his mere presence would make its gates fly open like those of Reims
+and Soissons. The King's folly and the ill-will of his favourites were
+not Joan's only troubles. The army before Paris was not like that
+chosen army she had led to Orleans, a company of men "confessed,
+penitent," who for the time seemed purified from evil desires, and
+followed her as to a holy war. Such a state of things, fair to the
+eye, but born only of the froth and ecstasy of religion, could not
+last, as the Maid in her young confidence perhaps expected. She had
+now to grieve because of her soldiers' habits of blasphemy and
+pillage.
+
+On the morning of September 8th, the festival of the Virgin's
+nativity, they advanced to attack the city. They were divided into two
+corps. One, led by Joan, Gaucourt, and Retz, went at once to the
+assault. The attack began about noon; the bastion of the St. Honore
+gate having been set on fire, its defenders were forced to abandon it,
+and the assailants, headed by Joan, passed the outer fosse. She
+climbed the ridge separating it from the inner fosse, which was full
+of water, and from that place summoned the city to surrender. She was
+answered with jeers and insults and a shower of missiles, amid which
+she carefully sounded the fosse with her lance, and found that it was
+of unusual depth. At her bidding the men brought faggots and hurdles
+to fill it up and make a resting-place for their ladders, but while
+she was directing them, an arrow wounded her in the thigh so severely
+that she was forced to lie down at the edge of the fosse. She
+suffered, as she afterwards confessed, agonies of pain, but she never
+ceased to encourage her men, bidding them advance boldly, for the
+place would be taken. The place would have been taken, but the
+captains who were with Joan, seeing that the hours went by and the men
+were struck down without achieving much, ordered a retreat. The
+trumpets sounded; the men withdrew, Joan, desperate in her sorrow,
+clung to the ground, declaring she would not go until the place was
+won. At about ten o'clock Gaucourt had her removed by force and set
+upon her horse. She was carried back to La Chapelle, suffering in
+body, suffering more in mind, but still resolute.
+
+"The city would have been taken!" she insisted. "It would have been
+taken!"
+
+Joan spent four weary months--how weary we conjecture chiefly from
+what we know of her character and her aspirations. Occasionally she
+rode with a few followers to visit some town where she was known, but
+generally she was with the Court, a sad and unwilling spectator of its
+festivities. Sad only because of her unfulfilled mission: had she been
+suffered to work it out, to see France delivered, she would doubtless
+have taken pleasure in show and gaiety. She was at home and happy with
+knights and ladies, and took a frank delight in rich garments and fine
+armour. She was no bigot, her sanctity was altogether wholesome: it
+was an exalted love for God, for France and the King, unsoured by any
+contempt for the common life of humanity.
+
+Wherever she went she visited the sick, she gave all she could in
+alms, she was devoted to the services of the church and to prayer. The
+people, who knew of her greatness and saw her goodness, treated her
+with a reverence that was akin to superstition. They brought rings and
+crosses for her to touch, and so turn into amulets. "Touch them
+yourselves," she would say, laughing, "they will be just as good."
+Some believed that she had a charmed life, and need never fear going
+into battle.
+
+Joan grew desperate. Sad voices from beyond the Loire were calling
+her. She was greatly wanted there, and the King--her King whom she had
+crowned--did not want her, cared nothing for her nor for his people's
+trouble. She asked counsel of her other voices, of her saints, and
+they neither bade her go nor stay; they told her only one certain
+thing, that before St. John's day she would be taken. If so--if
+indeed, as she herself had said, she was to last only a year--then the
+more need to hasten with her work. One day at the end of March she
+left Sully with a small company, as if going for one of her usual
+rides. She did not bid farewell to the King, and she never saw him
+again.
+
+It was a time of sad forebodings for her. A story goes, that one
+morning, after hearing mass in the church of St. Jacques, she went
+apart and leaned dejectedly against a pillar. Some grown people and a
+crowd of children came about her--she was always gentle to
+children--and she said to them:
+
+"My children and dear friends, I tell you that I am sold and betrayed,
+and that I shall soon be given up to death. Therefore I entreat you
+to pray for me, for never again shall I have any power to serve the
+King or the Kingdom of France." She was not "sold and betrayed" yet;
+that was to come.
+
+Depression could not make her inactive. She went to Crespy for
+reinforcements, but hearing that the siege of Compiegne had begun, she
+hurried back there on the night of April 23rd, with about four hundred
+men. She entered the place at sunrise, and spent the chief part of the
+day in arranging a sortie, to be made before evening. Compiegne,
+situated on the south bank of the Oise, was connected with the
+opposite shore by a bridge, from which a raised causeway went over the
+low river meadows to the hill-slopes of Picardy.
+
+Late in the afternoon, Joan, with five hundred foot and horsemen, made
+a short charge. Then Joan's troops feared to be cut off from
+Compiegne, to be left in a country dotted with the enemy's camps, and
+most of them turned, panic-stricken, and fled towards the city.
+
+The English gained the causeway, and the archers stationed there dared
+not shoot on them for fear of hurting their own people. The guns of
+Compiegne were useless, for friends and foes were mingled in a
+confused struggle. Joan tried to rally her men:
+
+"Hold your peace!" she cried to some who spoke of retreating. "It
+depends on you to discomfit them! Think only of falling upon them!"
+
+But her words were in vain. All she could do was to cover the retreat,
+and that she did valiantly, riding last, and charging back often.
+Thanks to her a great part of the fugitives got safely into the city,
+while others reached the boats; but the English pressed towards the
+gate to cut off the retreat of the remainder, and Guillaume de Flavy,
+afraid, as he said, lest in the confusion they might rush into the
+town itself, ordered the draw-bridge to be raised, and the portcullis
+lowered. There was no escape for the Maid now. She and a little
+devoted band that kept with her fought desperately, but they were
+driven into an angle of the fortifications; many fell in defending
+her.
+
+Compiegne remained shut. The city to whose help she had come at dawn
+saw her lost at its very gates before sundown, and made no effort to
+save her. Five or six men rushed on her at once, each crying:
+
+"Yield to me! Pledge your faith to me!"
+
+"I have sworn and pledged my faith to another than you," she said,
+"and I will keep my oath."
+
+She still struck at those who tried to seize her; but an archer came
+behind her, and, grasping the gold-embroidered surcoat that she wore,
+dragged her from her horse. She fell, exhausted and overcome at last,
+and the man who had pulled her down carried her to his master.
+
+She was taken to Margny, and thither flocked the English and
+Burgundian captains, "more joyful than if they had taken five hundred
+fighting men." In this very month of her capture, it had been found
+needful to issue proclamations against English soldiers, men of the
+old conquering race, who had refused to come over to France for fear
+of the Witch. And now here was the Witch, vanquished, powerless, her
+armour soiled in the fight, her magic banner fallen away from her. The
+chiefs could hardly believe their good fortune, but her sad presence
+was there to assure them of it, and they came and gazed on her.
+
+The weeks went by, and no one stirred to help her. Her captors'
+scruples were overcome, and before winter she was bought and sold.
+John of Luxembourg got ten thousand livres--two thousand dollars.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hitherto we have seen Joan, a gracious figure always--better always
+and nobler than her surroundings--but never yet solitary in goodness
+and nobleness. Other figures have been grouped about her, gracious
+also in their degree, worthy to divide with her our sympathy, and to
+have some share in our love. Now they are all gone from her. Father
+and mother, village friends and kinsfolk, devoted comrades and adoring
+people, are all shut away from her for ever. The old life is over.
+
+She is desolate, and worse than alone; to the darling of the saints,
+loneliness would be no such terrible punishment. Wrong and horror
+crowd upon her. Her honour and her life are in the hands of men evil
+by nature, or turned to evil by hatred, or greed, or fear. Here and
+there a judge speaks some word in favour of banished justice, but
+those feeble flashes leave no light in the gloom. The light shines all
+on Joan. The pure maiden, the noble heroine, stands out,
+heaven-illumined, against the darkness. Her sorrow and her endurance
+of it crown and sanctify her. Piteous though her fate be, we almost
+forget to pity her, for compassion is well-nigh lost in reverence and
+wonder.
+
+On her arrival at Rouen, Joan was taken to the castle, and put into an
+iron cage that had been made to receive her; and, as if its bars were
+not enough, she was chained in it by her neck, her hands and her feet.
+After being kept thus for several days, she was transferred to a
+gloomy chamber in one of the towers, where she was fettered to a great
+log of wood during the day, and to her bed at night. Both by night
+and day she was guarded by five English soldiers of the lowest and
+rudest class, three of whom were always with her, while the other two
+kept the door outside.
+
+Once given over to the Church, she should have been placed in an
+ecclesiastical prison, and guarded by women. For this right she
+pleaded often, and her plea was supported by several of her judges.
+But the English would not lose their grip of a captive who had cost
+them and lost them so much, and Pierre Cauchon, Bishop of Beauvais,
+had too great fear of displeasing them to advise such a simple measure
+of decency and justice.
+
+Joan had visitors in her prison. English nobles whose nobility did not
+keep them from insulting a woman and a helpless captive, came to stare
+and jest at her. Warwick and Stafford came one day, and with them a
+man who might well have shrunk from looking her in the face--the Judas
+of Luxembourg. He told her he had come to ransom her, on condition
+that she would not again take up arms against England. She answered
+him scornfully, as he deserved:
+
+"In God's name, you but mock me, for I know you have neither the will
+nor the power to do it;" and she added, "I know that the English will
+kill me, thinking to have the kingdom of France after my death; but
+were they a hundred thousand Goddams more than they are, they should
+not have the kingdom."
+
+Cauchon refused the Maid's just request for counsel to advise and
+defend her during her examination. But he was not merciful enough to
+leave her to the guidance of her own wise brain and true heart.
+According to the bad custom of the Inquisition, he sent her a sham
+confidant, a creature even more abject than himself--his friend and
+tool, the Canon Loyseleur. This man went to Joan in disguise, and told
+her that he, too, was a prisoner, a loyal subject of King Charles, and
+a native of her own province. The guards left them together, and she,
+poor child! being glad to see a friendly face, talked to him with a
+trustfulness that might have touched even such a heart as his. The
+bishop listened in an adjoining room, and stationed two scribes there
+to report Joan's words; but the men were too honest for such work, and
+refused to do it. To gain her fuller confidence, Loyseleur made known
+to her that he was a priest, and heard her in confession. He also gave
+her counsel how to answer her judges--bad and crooked counsel, of
+which she availed herself little, but still enough for us to trace
+here and there the influence of an evil mind over hers.
+
+On Tuesday, February 20th, she was summoned to appear next day before
+her judges. Having heard and seen what they were, she demanded that an
+equal number of assessors of the French party should be associated
+with them. She also entreated the Bishop of Beauvais to let her hear
+religious service. The prayer was denied.
+
+Joan appeared before them a youthful, girlish creature in her
+masculine dress. The dress was all black, relieved only by the pale
+prison-worn face, from which the dark eyes looked out fearlessly.
+
+The bishop began by briefly stating the crimes she was accused of, and
+explaining to her how he came to be her judge. He then exhorted her,
+"with gentleness and charity," to answer truly all questions put to
+her. From the first moment of the trial she was on her guard. She
+felt her judges' falsehood and malevolence in the very air around her.
+
+The Gospels were brought, and she was ordered to swear upon them that
+she would speak the truth. She hesitated.
+
+"I do not know what questions you may put to me," she said. "Perhaps
+you will ask me things I cannot tell you."
+
+"Will you swear," insisted Cauchon, "to speak the truth about whatever
+you are asked concerning the faith, and whatever you know?" She
+answered that she would willingly speak of her parents, and of all her
+own actions since she had left Domremy.
+
+Jean Beaupere took up the examination. His first question was, when
+she had last eaten and drunk. It was the season of Lent; if she had
+taken food as usual, she might be accused of contempt for the Church;
+if she had fasted, she gave colour to a theory of Beaupere's, that her
+visions were induced chiefly by physical causes. She told him she had
+fasted since noon the day before. He inquired at what hour she had
+last heard the voice.
+
+"I heard it yesterday and to-day," she said. "I was asleep, and it
+woke me.... I do not know whether it was in my room, but it was in the
+castle.... I thanked it, sitting up in my bed, with clasped hands, and
+implored its counsel.... I had asked God to teach me by its counsel
+how to answer."
+
+"And what did the voice say?"
+
+"It told me to answer boldly, and God would help me." Here she turned
+to the bishop. "You say that you are my judge. Take heed what you do,
+for indeed I am sent by God, and you are putting yourself in great
+peril."
+
+Beaupere asked her if the voice never varied in its counsel.
+
+"No," she said; "it has never contradicted itself. Last night again it
+bade me answer boldly."
+
+Her dress, her banner and pennon, were inquired about. Had not the
+Knights, her companions, their pennons made after the pattern of hers?
+Had she not told them that such pennons would be lucky? To this she
+answered:
+
+"I said to my men--'Go in boldly among the English!'--_and I went
+myself_."
+
+"Did you not tell them to carry their pennons boldly, and they would
+have good luck?"
+
+"I indeed told them what came to pass, and will come to pass again."
+
+Had she not ordered pictures or images of herself to be made? No, nor
+had she ever seen any image in her likeness. She had seen a picture of
+herself at Arras. She was represented kneeling on one knee, and
+presenting letters to the King.
+
+Did she know that those of her party had caused masses and prayers to
+be said in her honour?
+
+"I know nothing of it," she answered, "and if they did so, it was not
+by my command. Nevertheless, if they prayed for me, I think they did
+no wrong."
+
+"Do those of your party believe firmly that you are sent by God?"
+
+"I do not know. I leave that to their consciences. But if they do not
+believe it, I am none the less sent by Him."
+
+"Do you think them right in believing it?"
+
+"If they believe that I am sent by God, they are not deceived."
+
+"Did you understand the feelings of those who kissed your feet, your
+hands and your garments?"
+
+"Many were glad to see me. I let them kiss my hands as little as
+possible; but the poor people came to me gladly, because I did them no
+unkindness, but helped them as much as I could."
+
+"Did not the women touch their rings with the ring you wore?"
+
+"Many women touched my hands and my rings, but I do not know why they
+did so."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For more than three months her trial went on. But her fate was settled
+now. The Inquisition had no pardon for her. The judges left her, a few
+daring to be sorry for the brave creature, but most of them openly and
+indecently glad. In the courtyard they found a number of English
+waiting for news, among them the Earl of Warwick.
+
+"Farewell, farewell!" cried the bishop, as he passed him; "be of good
+cheer--it is done!"
+
+Her guilt was proved; let her be given over to the secular power; but
+first let her be charitably exhorted for her soul's welfare, and
+warned that she had nothing more to hope for in this world.
+
+The bishop ordered a citation to be drawn up, summoning Joan to appear
+next morning in the Old Market Place of Rouen, to receive her final
+sentence. She did not hear her doom that night (May 30, 1431), but the
+grave faces and grave words of the monks showed her the dreadful
+reality, and for a little while youth and womanhood and human weakness
+had their own way with her. She wept piteously.
+
+"Alas," she cried, "will they treat me so horribly and cruelly? Must
+my body be consumed to-day and turned to ashes? Ah! I would sooner
+seven times be beheaded than be burnt! Oh, I appeal to God, the great
+Judge, against the wrong and injustice done to me!"
+
+While she was thus lamenting Cauchon came in, with Pierre Maurice, and
+two or three others. Seeing him, she cried:
+
+"Bishop, I die by you!"
+
+Maurice looked kindly at her as he went, and she said to him:
+
+"Master Pierre, where shall I be to-night?"
+
+"Have you not a good hope in God?" he asked.
+
+"Ah, yes, and by God's grace, I shall be in Paradise."
+
+She received the sacrament with tears, and with deep penitence and
+devotion. Thenceforth her faith was unshaken, and she failed no more.
+
+Next morning at nine o'clock she left the prison, clothed now in a
+woman's long gown, and wearing a mitre, inscribed with the words,
+_Heretic_, _Relapsed_, _Apostate_, _Idolatress_. A cart was waiting
+for her, and she got into it, accompanied by Brother Martin and the
+usher Massieu. A guard of about eight hundred soldiers surrounded her
+to keep off the crowd, but suddenly there rushed through their ranks a
+haggard and miserable figure. It was Nicolaus Loyseleur, who, seized
+by late and vain remorse, had come to ask forgiveness of her whom he
+had betrayed. But before he could reach her, the soldiers drove him
+back, and Joan probably neither saw nor heard him, for she was weeping
+and praying, her head bowed upon her hands.
+
+When she looked up, she saw beyond the soldiers a dense throng of
+people, most of them grieving for her, many of them lamenting that
+this thing should be done in their city.
+
+"O Rouen, Rouen!" she cried, "is it here that I must die?"
+
+At last she reached the Old Market Place, a very large space, where
+had been raised three scaffolds: one for the Bishop of Beauvais and
+his colleagues, and for all the prelates and nobles who desired to see
+the show; another for Joan and some priests and officials; the third,
+also for Joan--a pile of stone and plaster, raised high above the
+heads of the crowd, and heaped with faggots. In front of it was a
+tablet bearing this inscription:
+
+_Joan, who has called herself The Maid--liar, pernicious, deceiver of
+the people, sorceress, superstitious, blasphemer of God, presumptuous,
+disbeliever of the faith of Christ, boaster, idolatress, dissolute,
+invoker of devils, apostate, schismatic, heretic._
+
+Master Nicolas Midi, a famous doctor from Paris, preached Joan's last
+sermon, on the text, "If one member suffer, all the members suffer
+with it."
+
+At its close, he addressed her:
+
+"Joan, go in peace! The Church can no longer defend you; it gives you
+up to the secular power."
+
+Then the bishop spoke to her. He did not read the form of abjuration,
+as had been advised, for she would have boldly disavowed it, and would
+so have spoilt a scheme he had concocted. But he admonished her to
+think of her salvation, to remember her misdeeds, and repent of them.
+Finally, after the usual inquisitorial form, he declared her cut off
+from the Church, and delivered over to secular justice.
+
+She needed no exhortation to prayer and penitence. For a while she
+seemed to forget the gazing crowd and the cruel judges. She knelt and
+prayed fervently--prayed aloud with such passionate pathos, that all
+who heard her were moved to tears. Even Cauchon wept. Even the
+Cardinal was touched. She forgave her enemies; she remembered the
+King, who had forgotten her; she asked pardon of all, imploring all to
+pray for her, and especially entreating the priests to say a mass for
+her soul. Presently she asked for a cross. An English soldier broke a
+stick in two and made a rough cross, which he gave her. She kissed it
+and put it in her bosom, weeping, calling upon God and the saints.
+
+But the men-at-arms were growing impatient. "Come, you priests!"
+shouted one of them, "are you going to make us dine here?"
+
+The bailiff of Rouen, as representing the secular power, should have
+now pronounced sentence of death, but he seemed afraid of delaying the
+soldiers, two of whom came up and seized Joan.
+
+"Take her! take her!" he said, hurriedly, and he bade the executioner
+"do his duty." The bishop's trial had, after all, an illegal and
+informal ending.
+
+The soldiers dragged Joan to the pile, and as she climbed it, some of
+her judges left their platform and rushed away, fearing to behold what
+they had helped to bring about. She was fastened to the stake, high
+up, that the flames might gain slowly upon her, and that the
+executioner might not be able to reach her and mercifully shorten her
+agony.
+
+"Ah, Rouen!" she cried again, as she looked over the city, bright in
+the May sunshine--"Ah, Rouen, Rouen! I fear thou wilt have to suffer
+for my death!"
+
+The executioner set fire to the pile. The confessor was by Joan's
+side, praying with her, comforting her so earnestly, that he took no
+notice of the ascending flames. It was she who saw them and bade him
+leave her.
+
+"But hold up the cross," she said, "that I may see it."
+
+Now Cauchon went to the foot of the pile, hoping perhaps that his
+victim might say some word of recantation. Perceiving him there, she
+cried aloud:
+
+"Bishop, I die by you!"
+
+And now the flames reached her, and she shrank from them in terror,
+calling for water--holy water! But as they rose and rose and wrapped
+her round, she seemed to draw strength from their awful contact. She
+still spoke. Brother Martin, standing in the heat and glare of the
+fire, holding the cross aloft for her comfort, heard her dying words:
+
+"Jesus! Jesus! Mary! My voices! My voices!"
+
+Did she hear them, those voices that had said, "Fret not thyself
+because of thy martyrdom; thou shalt come at last to the Kingdom of
+Paradise"?
+
+"Yes," she said, "my voices were from God! My voices have not deceived
+me!" Then, uttering one great cry--"Jesus!" she drooped her head upon
+her breast, and died.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The common folk soon added their tale of signs and wonders to the
+simple and terrible truth. An English soldier, who greatly hated the
+Maid, had sworn to bring a faggot to her burning, and he threw it on
+the pile just as she gave that last cry. Suddenly he fell senseless to
+the earth, and when he recovered, he told how at that moment he had
+looked up, and had seen a white dove fly heavenward out of the fire.
+Others declared that they had seen the word Jesus--her dying
+word--written in the flames. The executioner rushed to a confessor
+crying that he feared to be damned, for he had burned a holy woman.
+But her heart would not burn, he told the priest; the rest of her body
+he had found consumed to ashes, but her heart was left whole and
+unharmed.
+
+Many, not of the populace, were moved by her death to recognise what
+she had been in life.
+
+"I would that my soul were where I believe the soul of that woman is!"
+exclaimed Jean Alespee, one of the judges.
+
+"We are all lost; we have burnt a saint!" cried Tressart, a secretary
+of the King of England. Winchester--determined that, though she might
+be called a saint, there should be no relics of her--had her ashes
+carefully collected and thrown into the Seine.
+
+The tidings of her death went speedily through France. They found
+Charles in his southern retirement, and nowise disturbed the ease of
+mind and body that was more to him than honour. They reached Domremy,
+and broke the heart of Joan's stern, loving father. Isabelle Romee
+lived to see her child's memory righted and her prophecies fulfilled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In June, 1455, Pope Calixtus, named a commission to inquire into the
+trial of Joan of Arc.
+
+Joan's aged mother came before them, supported by her sons, and
+followed by a great procession of nobles, scholars, and honourable
+ladies. She presented the petition she had made to the Pope, and the
+letter whereby he granted it, and the commissioners took her aside,
+heard her testimony, and promised to do her justice.
+
+And now the dead heroine was confronted with her dead judges, to their
+shame and her enduring honour. Messengers were sent into her country
+to hear the story of her innocent childhood and pure, unselfish youth.
+Through her whole life went the inquiry, gathering testimony from
+people of all ranks. The peasants whom she had loved and tended in her
+early girlhood, the men who had fought by her side, the women who had
+known and honoured her, the officers of the trial, and many who had
+watched her sufferings and beheld her death--all were called to speak
+for her now. They testified to her goodness, her purity, her
+single-hearted love for France, her piety, her boldness in war, and
+her good sense in counsel. All were for her--not one voice was raised
+against her. Rouen, the place of her martyrdom, became the place of
+her triumph.
+
+The judges pronounced the whole trial to be polluted by wrong and
+calumny, and therefore null and void; finally, they proclaimed that
+neither Joan nor any of her kindred had incurred any blot of infamy,
+and freed them from every shadow of disgrace.
+
+By order of the tribunal, this new verdict was read publicly in all
+the cities of France, and first at Rouen, and in the Old Market Place,
+where she had been cruelly burnt. This was done with great solemnity;
+processions were made, sermons were preached, and on the site of her
+martyrdom a stone cross was soon raised to her memory.
+
+The world has no relic of Joan. Her armour, her banner, the picture of
+herself that she saw at Arras, have all disappeared. We possess but
+the record of a fair face framed in plentiful dark hair, of a strong
+and graceful shape, of a sweet woman's voice. And it seems--and yet,
+indeed, hardly is--a wonder that no worthy poem has been made in her
+honour. She is one of the few for whom poet and romancer can do
+little; for as there is nothing in her life that needs either to be
+hidden or adorned, we see her best in the clear and searching light of
+history.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+CATHERINE DOUGLAS
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF JAMES I. OF SCOTS. 20TH FEBRUARY, 1437
+
+
+    NOTE.--Tradition says that Catherine Douglas, in honour of her
+    heroic act when she barred the door with her arm against the
+    murderers of James the First of Scots, received popularly the
+    name of "Barlass." The name remains to her descendants, the
+    Barlas family, in Scotland, who bear for their crest a broken
+    arm. She married Alexander Lovell of Bolunnie.
+
+    A few stanzas from King James's lovely poem, known as _The
+    King's Quhair_, are quoted in the course of this ballad.
+
+    I Catherine am a Douglas born,
+     A name to all Scots dear;
+    And Kate Barlass they've called me now
+     Through many a waning year.
+
+    This old arm's withered now. 'T was once
+      Most deft 'mong maidens all
+    To rein the steed, to wing the shaft,
+      To smite the palm-play ball.
+
+    In hall adown the close-linked dance
+      It has shone most white and fair;
+    It has been the rest for a true lord's head,
+    And many a sweet babe's nursing-bed,
+      And the bar to a King's chambere.
+
+    Ay, lasses, draw round Kate Barlass,
+      And hark with bated breath
+    How good King James, King Robert's son,
+      Was foully done to death.
+
+    Through all the days of his gallant youth
+      The princely James was pent,
+    By his friends at first and then by his foes,
+      In long imprisonment.
+
+    For the elder Prince, the kingdom's heir,
+      By treason's murderous brood
+    Was slain; and the father quaked for the child
+      With the royal mortal blood.
+
+    I' the Bass Rock fort, by his father's care,
+      Was his childhood's life assured;
+    And Henry the subtle Bolingbroke,
+    Proud England's King, 'neath the southron yoke
+      His youth for long years immured.
+
+    Yet in all things meet for a kingly man
+      Himself did he approve;
+    And the nightingale through his prison-wall
+      Taught him both lore and love.
+
+    For once, when the bird's song drew him close
+      To the opened window-pane,
+    In her bowers beneath a lady stood,
+    A light of life to his sorrowful mood,
+      Like a lily amid the rain.
+
+    And for her sake, to the sweet bird's note,
+      He framed a sweeter Song,
+    More sweet than ever a poet's heart
+      Gave yet to the English tongue.
+
+    She was a lady of royal blood;
+      And when, past sorrow and teen
+    He stood where still through his crownless years
+      His Scotish realm had been,
+    At Scone were the happy lovers crowned,
+      A heart-wed King and Queen.
+
+    But the bird may fall from the bough of youth,
+      And song be turned to moan,
+    And Love's storm-cloud be the shadow of Hate,
+    When the tempest-waves of a troubled State
+      Are beating against a throne.
+
+    Yet well they loved; and the god of Love,
+      Whom well the King had sung,
+    Might find on the earth no truer hearts
+      His lowliest swains among.
+
+    From the days when first she rode abroad
+      With Scotish maids in her train,
+    I Catherine Douglas won the trust
+      Of my mistress sweet Queen Jane.
+
+    And oft she sighed, "To be born a King!"
+      And oft along the way
+    When she saw the homely lovers pass
+      She has said, "Alack the day!"
+
+    Years waned, the loving and toiling years:
+      Till England's wrong renewed
+    Drove James, by outrage cast on his crown,
+      To the open field of feud.
+
+    'T was when the King and his host were met
+      At the leaguer of Roxbro' hold,
+    The Queen o' the sudden sought his camp
+      With a tale of dread to be told.
+
+    And she showed him a secret letter writ
+      That spoke of treasonous strife,
+    And how a band of his noblest lords
+      Were sworn to take his life.
+
+    "And it may be here or it may be there,
+      In the camp or the court," she said:
+    "But for my sake come to your people's arms
+      And guard your royal head."
+
+    Quoth he, "'Tis the fifteenth day of the siege,
+      And the castle's nigh to yield."
+    "O face your foes on your throne," she cried,
+      "And show the power you wield;
+    And under your Scotish people's love
+      You shall sit as under your shield."
+
+    At the fair Queen's side I stood that day
+      When he bade them raise the siege,
+    And back to his Court he sped to know
+      How the lords would meet their Liege.
+
+    But when he summoned his Parliament,
+      The lowering brows hung round,
+    Like clouds that circle the mountain-head
+      Ere the first low thunders sound.
+
+    For he had tamed the nobles' lust
+      And curbed their power and pride,
+    And reached out an arm to right the poor
+      Through Scotland far and wide;
+    And marry a lordly wrong-doer
+      By the headsman's axe had died.
+
+    'T was then upspoke Sir Robert Graeme,
+      The bold o'ermastering man:
+    "O King, in the name of your Three Estates
+      I set you under their ban!
+
+    "For, as your lords made oath to you
+      Of service and fealty,
+    Even in like wise you pledged your oath
+      Their faithful sire to be:
+
+    "Yet all we here that are nobly sprung
+      Have mourned dear kith and kin
+    Since first for the Scotish Barons' curse
+      Did your bloody rule begin."
+
+    With that he laid his hands on his King:
+      "Is this not so, my lords?"
+    But of all who had sworn to league with him
+      Not one spake back to his words.
+
+    Quoth the King: "Thou speak'st but for one Estate,
+      Nor doth it avow thy gage.
+    Let my liege lords hale this traitor hence!"
+      The Graeme fired dark with rage:
+    "Who works for lesser men than himself,
+      He earns but a witless wage!"
+
+    But soon from the dungeon where he lay
+      He won by privy plots,
+    And forth he fled with a price on his head
+      To the country of the Wild Scots.
+
+    And word there came from Sir Robert Graeme
+      To the King at Edinbro':
+    "No Liege of mine thou art; but I see
+    From this day forth alone in thee
+      God's creature, my mortal foe.
+
+    "Through thee are my wife and children lost,
+      My heritage and lands;
+    And when my God shall show me a way,
+    Thyself my mortal foe will I slay
+      With these my proper hands."
+
+    Against the coming of Christmastide
+      That year the King bade call
+    I' the Black Friars' Charterhouse of Perth
+      A solemn festival.
+
+    And we of his household rode with him
+      In a close-ranked company;
+    But not till the sun had sunk from his throne
+      Did we reach the Scotish Sea.
+
+    That eve was clenched for a boding storm,
+      'Neath a toilsome moon, half seen;
+    The cloud stooped low and the surf rose high;
+    And where there was a line of the sky,
+      Wild wings loomed dark between.
+
+    And on a rock of the black beach-side
+      By the veiled moon dimly lit,
+    There was something seemed to heave with life
+      As the King drew nigh to it.
+
+    And was it only the tossing furze
+      Or brake of the waste sea-wold?
+    Or was it an eagle bent to the blast?
+    When near we came, we knew it at last
+      For a woman tattered and old.
+
+    But it seemed as though by a fire within
+      Her writhen limbs were wrung;
+    And as soon as the King was close to her,
+      She stood up gaunt and strong.
+
+    'T was then the moon sailed clear of the rack
+      On high in her hollow dome;
+    And still as aloft with hoary crest
+      Each clamorous wave rang home,
+    Like fire in snow the moonlight blazed
+      Amid the champing foam.
+
+    And the woman held his eyes with her eyes:
+      "O King, thou art come at last;
+    But thy wraith has haunted the Scotish Sea
+      To my sight for four years past.
+
+    "Four years it is since first I met,
+      'Twixt the Duchray and the Dhu,
+    A shape whose feet clung close in a shroud,
+      And that shape for thine I knew.
+
+    "A year again, and on Inchkeith Isle
+      I saw thee pass in the breeze,
+    With the cerecloth risen above thy feet
+      And wound about thy knees.
+
+    "And yet a year, in the Links of Forth,
+      As a wanderer without rest,
+    Thou cam'st with both thine arms i' the shroud
+      That clung high up thy breast.
+
+    "And in this hour I find thee here,
+      And well mine eyes may note
+    That the winding-sheet hath passed thy breast
+      And risen around thy throat.
+
+    "And when I meet thee again, O King,
+      That of death hast such sore drouth,
+    Except thou turn again on this shore,
+    The winding-sheet shall have moved once more
+      And covered thine eyes and mouth.
+
+    "O King, whom poor men bless for their King,
+      Of thy fate be not so fain;
+    But these my words for God's message take,
+    And turn thy steed, O King, for her sake
+      Who rides beside thy rein!"
+
+    While the woman spoke, the King's horse reared
+      As if it would breast the sea,
+    And the Queen turned pale as she heard on the gale
+      The voice die dolorously.
+
+    When the woman ceased, the steed was still,
+      But the King gazed on her yet,
+    And in silence save for the wail of the sea
+      His eyes and her eyes met.
+
+    At last he said: "God's ways are His own;
+      Man is but shadow and dust.
+    Last night I prayed by His altar-stone;
+    To-night I wend to the Feast of His Son;
+      And in Him I set my trust.
+
+    "I have held my people in sacred charge,
+      And have not feared the sting
+    Of proud men's hate, to His will resign'd
+    Who has but one same death for a hind
+      And one same death for a King.
+
+    "And if God in His wisdom have brought close
+      The day when I must die,
+    That day by water or fire or air
+    My feet shall fall in the destined snare
+      Wherever my road may lie.
+
+    "What man can say but the Fiend hath set
+      Thy sorcery on my path,
+    My heart with the fear of death to fill,
+    And turn me against God's very will
+      To sink in His burning wrath?"
+
+    The woman stood as the train rode past,
+      And moved nor limb nor eye;
+    And when we were shipped, we saw her there
+      Still standing against the sky.
+
+    As the ship made way, the moon once more
+      Sank slow in her rising pall;
+    And I thought of the shrouded wraith of the King,
+      And I said, "The Heavens know all."
+
+    And now, ye lasses, must ye hear
+      How my name is Kate Barlass:
+    But a little thing, when all the tale
+      Is told of the weary mass
+    Of crime and woe which in Scotland's realm
+      God's will let come to pass.
+
+    'T was in the Charterhouse of Perth
+      That the King and all his Court
+    Were met, the Christmas Feast being done,
+      For solace and disport.
+
+    'T was a wind-wild eve in February,
+      And against the casement-pane
+    The branches smote like summoning hands
+      And muttered the driving rain.
+
+    And when the wind swooped over the lift
+      And made the whole heaven frown,
+    It seemed a grip was laid on the walls
+      To tug the housetop down.
+
+    And the Queen was there, more stately fair
+      Than a lily in garden set;
+    And the King was loth to stir from her side;
+    For as on the day when she was his bride,
+      Even so he loved her yet.
+
+    And the Earl of Athole, the King's false friend,
+      Sat with him at the board;
+    And Robert Stuart the chamberlain
+      Who had sold his sovereign Lord.
+
+    Yet the traitor Christopher Chaumber there
+      Would fain have told him all,
+    And vainly four times that night he strove
+      To reach the King through the hall.
+
+    But the wine is bright at the goblet's brim
+      Though the poison lurk beneath;
+    And the apples still are red on the tree
+    Within whose shade may the adder be
+      That shall turn thy life to death.
+
+    There was a knight of the King's fast friends
+      Whom he called the King of Love;
+    And to such bright cheer and courtesy
+      That name might best behove.
+
+    And the King and Queen both loved him well
+      For his gentle knightliness;
+    And with him the King, as that eve wore on,
+      Was playing at the chess.
+
+    And the King said (for he thought to jest
+      And soothe the Queen thereby),
+    "In a book 'tis writ that this same year
+      A King shall in Scotland die.
+
+    "And I have pondered the matter o'er,
+    And this have I found, Sir Hugh,
+    There are but two Kings on Scotish ground,
+      And those Kings are I and you.
+
+    "And I have a wife and a newborn heir,
+      And you are yourself alone;
+    So stand you stark at my side with me
+      To guard our double throne."
+
+    "For here sit I and my wife and child,
+      As well your heart shall approve,
+    In full surrender and soothfastness,
+      Beneath your Kingdom of Love."
+
+    And the Knight laughed, and the Queen, too, smiled;
+      But I knew her heavy thought,
+    And I strove to find in the good King's jest
+      What cheer might thence be wrought.
+
+    And I said, "My Liege, for the Queen's dear love
+      Now sing the song that of old
+    You made, when a captive Prince you lay,
+    And the nightingale sang sweet on the spray,
+      In Windsor's castle-hold."
+
+    Then he smiled the smile I knew so well
+      When he thought to please the Queen;
+    The smile which under all bitter frowns
+      Of hate that rose between,
+    For ever dwelt at the poet's heart
+      Like the bird of love unseen.
+
+    And he kissed her hand and took his harp,
+      And the music sweetly rang;
+    And when the song burst forth, it seemed
+    'T was the nightingale that sang.
+
+    "_Worship, ye lovers, on this May:
+      Of bliss your kalends are begun:
+    Sing with us, Away, Winter, away!
+      Come, Summer, the sweet season and sun!
+      Awake for shame, your heaven is won,
+    And amorously your heads lift all:
+    Thank Love, that you to his grace doth call!_"
+
+    But when he bent to the Queen, and sang
+      The speech whose praise was hers,
+    It seemed his voice was the voice of the Spring
+      And the voice of the bygone years.
+
+    "_The fairest and the freshest flower
+    That ever I saw before that hour,
+    The which o' the sudden made to start
+    The blood of my body to my heart._
+
+      *       *       *       *       *
+
+    _Ah sweet, are ye a worldly creature
+    Or heavenly thing in form of nature?_"
+
+    And the song was long, and richly stored
+      With wonder and beauteous things;
+    And the harp was tuned to every change
+      Of minstrel ministerings;
+    But when he spoke of the Queen at the last,
+      Its strings were his own heart-strings.
+
+    "_Unworthy but only of her grace,
+      Upon Love's rock that's easy and sure,
+    In guerdon of all my love's space
+      She took me her humble creaeture.
+      Thus fell my blissful aventure
+    In youth of love that from day to day
+    Flowereth aye new, and further, I say._
+
+    "_To reck all the circumstance
+      As it happed when lessen gan my sore,
+    Of my rancor and woeful chance,
+      It were too long--I have done therefor.
+      And of this flower I say no more
+    But unto my help her heart hath tended
+    And even from death her man defended._"
+
+    "Ay, even from death," to myself I said;
+      For I thought of the day when she
+    Had borne him the news, at Roxbro' siege,
+      Of the fell confederacy.
+
+    But death even then took aim as he sang
+      With an arrow deadly bright;
+    And the grinning skull lurked grimly aloof,
+    And the wings were spread far over the roof
+      More dark than the winter night.
+
+    Yet truly along the amorous song
+      Of Love's high pomp and state,
+    There were words of Fortune's trackless doom
+      And the dreadful face of Fate.
+
+    And oft have I heard again in dreams
+      The voice of dire appeal
+    In which the King sang of the pit
+    That is under Fortune's wheel.
+
+    "_And under the wheel beheld I there
+      An ugly Pit as deep as hell,
+    That to behold I quaked for fear:
+      And this I heard, that who therein fell
+      Came no more up, tidings to tell:
+    Whereat, astound of the fearful sight,
+    I wist not what to do for fright._"
+
+    And oft has my thought called up again
+      These words of the changeful song:
+    "_Wist thou thy pain and thy travail
+    To come, well might'st thou weep and wail!_"
+      And our wail, O God! is long.
+
+    But the song's end was all of his love;
+      And well his heart was grac'd
+    With her smiling lips and her tear-bright eyes
+      As his arm went round her waist.
+
+    And on the swell of her long fair throat
+      Close clung the necklet-chain
+    As he bent her pearl-tir'd head aside,
+    And in the warmth of his love and pride
+      He kissed her lips full fain.
+
+    And her true face was a rosy red,
+      The very red of the rose
+    That, couched on the happy garden-bed,
+      In the summer sunlight glows.
+
+    And all the wondrous things of love
+      That sang so sweet through the song
+    Were in the look that met in their eyes,
+      And the look was deep and long.
+
+    'T was then a knock came at the outer gate,
+      And the usher sought the King.
+    "The woman you met by the Scotish Sea,
+      My Liege, would tell you a thing;
+    And she says that her present need for speech
+      Will bear no gainsaying."
+
+    And the King said: "The hour is late;
+      To-morrow will serve, I ween."
+    Then he charged the usher strictly, and said:
+      "No word of this to the Queen."
+
+    But the usher came again to the King.
+      "Shall I call her back?" quoth he:
+    "For as she went on her way, she cried,
+      'Woe! Woe! then the thing must be!'"
+
+    And the King paused, but he did not speak.
+      Then he called for the Voidee-cup:
+    And as we heard the twelfth hour strike,
+    There by true lips and false lips alike
+      Was the draught of trust drained up.
+
+    So with reverence meet to King and Queen
+      To bed went all from the board;
+    And the last to leave the courtly train
+    Was Robert Stuart the chamberlain
+      Who had sold his sovereign lord.
+
+    And all the locks of the chamber-door
+      Had the traitor riven and brast;
+    And that Fate might win sure way from afar,
+    He had drawn out every bolt and bar
+      That made the entrance fast.
+
+    And now at midnight he stole his way
+      To the moat of the outer wall,
+    And laid strong hurdles closely across
+      Where the traitors' tread should fall.
+
+    But we that were the Queen's bower-maids
+      Alone were left behind;
+    And with heed we drew the curtains close
+      Against the winter wind.
+
+    And now that all was still through the hall,
+      More clearly we heard the rain
+    That clamoured ever against the glass
+      And the boughs that beat on the pane
+
+    But the fire was bright in the ingle-nook,
+      And through empty space around
+    The shadows cast on the arras'd wall
+    'Mid the pictured kings stood sudden and tall
+      Like spectres sprung from the ground.
+
+    And the bed was dight in a deep alcove;
+      And as he stood by the fire
+    The King was still in talk with the Queen
+      While he doffed his goodly attire.
+
+    And the song had brought the image back
+      Of many a bygone year;
+    And many a loving word they said
+    With hand in hand and head laid to head;
+      And none of us went anear.
+
+    But Love was weeping outside the house,
+      A child in the piteous rain;
+    And as he watched the arrow of Death,
+    He wailed for his own shafts close in the sheath
+      That never should fly again.
+
+    And now beneath the window arose
+      A wild voice suddenly:
+    And the King reared straight, but the Queen fell back
+      As for bitter dule to dree;
+    And all of us knew the woman's voice
+      Who spoke by the Scotish Sea.
+
+    "O King," she cried, "in an evil hour
+      They drove me from thy gate;
+    And yet my voice must rise to thine ears;
+      But alas! it comes too late!
+
+    "Last night at mid-watch, by Aberdour,
+      When the moon was dead in the skies,
+    O King, in a death-light of thine own
+      I saw thy shape arise.
+
+    "And in full season, as erst I said,
+      The doom had gained its growth;
+    And the shroud had risen above thy neck
+      And covered thine eyes and mouth.
+
+    "And no moon woke, but the pale dawn broke,
+      And still thy soul stood there;
+    And I thought its silence cried to my soul
+      As the first rays crowned its hair.
+
+    "Since then have I journeyed fast and fain
+      In very despite of Fate,
+    Lest Hope might still be found in God's will:
+      But they drove me from thy gate.
+
+    "For every man on God's ground, O King,
+      His death grows up from his birth
+    In the shadow-plant perpetually;
+      And thine towers high, a black yew-tree,
+      O'er the Charterhouse of Perth!"
+
+    That room was built far out from the house;
+    And none but we in the room
+    Might hear the voice that rose beneath,
+    Nor the tread of the coming doom.
+
+    For now there came a torchlight-glare,
+      And a clang of arms there came;
+    And not a soul in that space but thought
+      Of the foe Sir Robert Graeme.
+
+    Yea, from the country of the Wild Scots,
+      O'er mountain, valley, and glen,
+    He had brought with him in murderous league
+      Three hundred armed men.
+
+    The King knew all in an instant's flash,
+      And like a King did he stand;
+    But there was no armour in all the room,
+      Nor weapon lay to his hand.
+
+    And all we women flew to the door
+      And thought to have made it fast;
+    But the bolts were gone and the bars were gone
+      And the locks were riven and brast.
+
+    And he caught the pale pale Queen in his arms
+      As the iron footsteps fell,
+    Then loosed her, standing alone, and said,
+      "Our bliss was our farewell!"
+
+    And 'twixt his lips he murmured a prayer,
+      And he crossed his brow and breast;
+    And proudly in royal hardihood
+    Even so with folded arms he stood--
+      The prize of the bloody quest.
+
+    Then on me leaped the Queen like a deer:
+      "O Catherine, help!" she cried.
+    And low at his feet we clasped his knees
+      Together side by side.
+    "Oh! even a King, for his people's sake,
+      From treasonous death must hide!"
+
+    "For _her_ sake most!" I cried, and I marked
+      The pang that my words could wring.
+    And the iron tongs from the chimney-nook
+      I snatched and held to the King:
+    "Wrench up the plank! and the vault beneath
+      Shall yield safe harbouring."
+
+    With brows low-bent, from my eager hand
+      The heavy heft did he take;
+    And the plank at his feet he wrenched and tore;
+    And as he frowned through the open floor,
+      Again I said, "For her sake!"
+
+    Then he cried to the Queen, "God's will be done!"
+      For her hands were clasped in prayer.
+    And down he sprang to the inner crypt;
+    And straight we closed the plank he had ripp'd
+      And toiled to smoothe it fair.
+
+    (Alas! in that vault a gap once was
+      Wherethro' the King might have fled;
+    But three days since close-walled had it been
+    By his will; for the ball would roll therein
+      When without at the palm he play'd.)
+
+    Then the Queen cried, "Catherine, keep the door,
+      And I to this will suffice!"
+    At her word I rose all dazed to my feet,
+      And my heart was fire and ice.
+
+    And louder ever the voices grew,
+      And the tramp of men in mail;
+    Until to my brain it seemed to be
+    As though I tossed on a ship at sea
+      In the teeth of a crashing gale.
+
+    Then back I flew to the rest; and hard
+      We strove with sinews knit
+    To force the table against the door
+      But we might not compass it.
+
+    Then my wild gaze sped far down the hall
+      To the place of the hearthstone-sill;
+    And the Queen bent ever above the floor,
+      For the plank was rising still.
+
+    And now the rush was heard on the stair,
+      And "God, what help?" was our cry.
+    And was I frenzied or was I bold?
+    I looked at each empty stanchion-hold,
+      And no bar but my arm had I!
+
+    Like iron felt my arm, as through
+      The staple I made it pass:
+    Alack! it was flesh and bone--no more!
+    'T was Catherine Douglas sprang to the door,
+      But I fell back Kate Barlass.
+
+    With that they all thronged into the hall,
+      Half dim to my failing ken;
+    And the space that was but a void before
+      Was a crowd of wrathful men.
+
+    Behind the door I had fall'n and lay,
+      Yet my sense was widely aware,
+    And for all the pain of my shattered arm
+      I never fainted there.
+
+    Even as I fell, my eyes were cast
+      Where the King leaped down to the pit;
+    And lo! the plank was smooth in its place,
+      And the Queen stood far from it.
+
+    And under the litters and through the bed
+      And within the presses all
+    The traitors sought for the King, and pierced
+      The arras around the wall.
+
+    And through the chamber they ramped and stormed
+      Like lions loose in the lair,
+    And scarce could trust to their very eyes--
+      For behold! no King was there.
+
+    Then one of them seized the Queen, and cried,
+      "Now tells us, where is thy lord?"
+    And he held the sharp point over her heart:
+    She drooped not her eyes nor did she start,
+      But she answered never a word.
+
+    Then the sword half pierced the true true breast:
+      But it was the Graeme's own son
+    Cried, "This is a woman--we seek a man!"
+      And away from her girdle-zone
+    He struck the point of the murderous steel;
+      And that foul deed was not done.
+
+    And forth flowed all the throng like a sea,
+      And 't was empty space once more;
+    And my eyes sought out the wounded Queen
+      As I lay behind the door.
+
+    And I said: "Dear Lady, leave me here,
+      For I cannot help you now;
+    But fly while you may, and none shall reck
+      Of my place here lying low."
+
+    And she said, "My Catherine, God help thee!"
+      Then she looked to the distant floor,
+    And clapsing her hands, "O God help _him_,"
+      She sobbed, "for we can no more!"
+
+    But God He knows what help may mean,
+      If it mean to live or to die;
+    And what sore sorrow and mighty moan
+    On earth it may cost ere yet a throne
+      Be filled in His house on high.
+
+    And now the ladies fled with the Queen;
+      And through the open door
+    The night-wind wailed round the empty room
+      And the rushes shook on the floor.
+
+    And the bed drooped low in the dark recess
+      Whence the arras was rent away;
+    And the firelight still shone over the space
+      Where our hidden secret lay.
+
+    And the rain had ceased, and the moonbeams lit
+      The window high in the wall--
+    Bright beams that on the plank that I knew
+      Through the painted pane did fall
+    And gleamed with the splendour of Scotland's crown
+      And shield armorial.
+
+    But then a great wind swept up the skies,
+      And the climbing moon fell back;
+    And the royal blazon fled from the floor,
+      And naught remained on its track;
+    And high in the darkened window-pane
+      The shield and the crown were black.
+
+    And what I say next I partly saw
+      And partly I heard in sooth,
+    And partly since from the murderers' lips
+      The torture wrung the truth.
+
+    For now again came the armed tread,
+      And fast through the hall it fell;
+    But the throng was less: and ere I saw,
+      By the voice without I could tell
+    That Robert Stuart had come with them
+      Who knew that chamber well.
+
+    And over the space the Graeme strode dark
+      With his mantle round him flung;
+    And in his eye was a flaming light
+      But not a word on his tongue.
+
+    And Stuart held a torch to the floor,
+      And he found the thing he sought;
+    And they slashed the plank away with their swords
+      And O God! I fainted not!
+
+    And the traitor held his torch in the gap,
+      All smoking and smouldering;
+    And through the vapour and fire, beneath
+      In the dark crypt's narrow ring,
+    With a shout that pealed to the room's high roof
+      They saw their naked King.
+
+    Half naked he stood, but stood as one
+      Who yet could do and dare;
+    With the crown, the King was stript away--
+    The Knight was reft of his battle-array--
+      But still the Man was there.
+
+    From the rout then stepped a villain forth--
+      Sir John Hall was his name:
+    With a knife unsheathed he leapt to the vault
+      Beneath the torchlight-flame.
+
+    Of his person and stature was the King
+      A man right manly strong,
+    And mightily by the shoulderblades
+      His foe to his feet he flung.
+
+    Then the traitor's brother, Sir Thomas Hall,
+      Sprang down to work his worst;
+    And the King caught the second man by the neck
+      And flung him above the first.
+
+    And he smote and trampled them under him;
+      And a long month thence they bare
+    All black their throats with the grip of his hands
+      When the hangman's hand came there.
+
+    And sore he strove to have had their knives,
+      But the sharp blades gashed his hands.
+    Oh James! so armed, thou hadst battled there
+      Till help had come of thy bands;
+    And oh! once more thou hadst held our throne
+      And ruled thy Scotish lands!
+
+    But while the King o'er his foes still raged
+      With a heart that naught could tame,
+    Another man sprange down to the crypt;
+    And with his sword in his hand hard-gripp'd,
+      There stood Sir Robert Graeme.
+
+    (Now shame on the recreant traitor's heart
+      Who durst not face his King
+    Till the body unarmed was wearied out
+      With two-fold combating!
+
+    Ah! well might the people sing and say,
+      As oft ye have heard aright:
+    "_O Robert Graeme, O Robert Graeme,
+    Who slew our King, God give thee shame!_"
+      For he slew him not as a knight.)
+
+    And the naked King turned round at bay,
+      But his strength had passed the goal,
+    And he could but gasp: "Mine hour is come;
+    But oh! to succour thine own soul's doom,
+      Let a priest now shrive my soul!"
+
+    And the traitor looked on the King's spent strength
+      And said: "Have I kept my word?
+    Yea, King, the mortal pledge that I gave?
+    No black friar's shrift thy soul shall have,
+      But the shrift of this red sword!"
+
+    With that he smote his King through the breast;
+      And all they three in the pen
+    Fell on him and stabbed and stabbed him there
+      Like merciless murderous men
+
+    Yet seemed it now that Sir Robert Graeme,
+      Ere the King's last breath was o'er,
+    Turned sick at heart with the deadly sight
+      And would have done no more.
+
+    But a cry came from the troop above:
+      "If him thou do not slay,
+    The price of his life that thou dost spare
+      Thy forfeit life shall pay!"
+
+    O God! what more did I hear or see,
+      Or how should I tell the rest?
+    But there at length our King lay slain
+      With sixteen wounds in his breast.
+
+    O God! and now did a bell boom forth,
+      And the murderers turned and fled;
+    Too late, too late, O God, did it sound!
+    And I heard the true men mustering round,
+      And the cries and the coming tread.
+
+    But ere they came, to the black death-gap
+      Somewise did I creep and steal;
+    And lo! or ever I swooned away,
+    Through the dusk I saw where the white face lay
+      In the Pit of Fortune's Wheel.
+
+    And now, ye Scotish maids who have heard
+      Dread things of the days grown old--
+    Even at the last, of true Queen Jane
+      May somewhat yet be told,
+    And how she dealt for her dear Lord's sake
+      Dire vengeance manifold.
+
+    'T was in the Charterhouse of Perth,
+      In the fair-lit Death-chapelle,
+    That the slain King's corpse on bier was laid
+      With chaunt and requiem-knell.
+
+    And all with royal wealth of balm
+      Was the body purified;
+    And none could trace on the brow and lips
+      The death that he had died.
+
+    In his robes of state he lay asleep
+      With orb and sceptre in hand;
+    And by the crown he wore on his throne
+      Was his kingly forehead spann'd.
+
+    And, girls, 't was a sweet sad thing to see
+      How the curling golden hair,
+    As in the day of the poet's youth,
+      From the King's crown clustered there.
+
+    And if all had come to pass in the brain
+      That throbbed beneath those curls,
+    Then Scots had said in the days to come
+    That this their soil was a different home
+      And a different Scotland, girls!
+
+    And the Queen sat by him night and days
+      And oft she knelt in prayer,
+    All wan and pale in the widow's veil
+      That shrouded her shining hair.
+
+    And I had got good help of my hurt:
+      And only to me some sign
+    She made; and save the priests that were there
+      No face would she see but mine.
+
+    And the month of March wore on apace;
+      And now fresh couriers fared
+    Still from the country of the Wild Scots
+      With news of the traitors snared.
+
+    And still, as I told her day by day,
+      Her pallor changed to sight,
+    And the frost grew to a furnace-flame
+      That burnt her visage white.
+
+    And evermore as I brought her word,
+      She bent to her dead King James,
+    And in the cold ear with fire-drawn breath
+      She spoke the traitors' names.
+
+    But when the name of Sir Robert Graeme
+      Was the one she had to give,
+    I ran to hold her up from the floor;
+    For the froth was on her lips, and sore
+      I feared that she could not live.
+
+    And the month of March wore nigh to its end,
+      And still was the death-pall spread;
+    For she would not bury her slaughtered lord
+      Till his slayers all were dead.
+
+    And now of their dooms dread tidings came,
+      And of torments fierce and dire;
+    And naught she spake--she had ceased to speak--
+      But her eyes were a soul on fire.
+
+    But when I told her the bitter end
+      Of the stern and just award,
+    She leaned o'er the bier, and thrice three times
+      She kissed the lips of her lord.
+
+    And then she said, "My King, they are dead!"
+      And she knelt on the chapel floor,
+    And whispered low with a strange proud smile,
+      "James, James, they suffered more!"
+
+    Last she stood up to her queenly height,
+      But she shook like an autumn leaf,
+    As though the fire wherein she burned
+    Then left her body, and all were turned
+      To winter of life-long grief.
+
+    And "O James!" she said, "My James!" she said,
+      "Alas for the woeful thing,
+    That a poet true and a friend of man,
+    In desperate days of bale and ban,
+      Should needs be born a King!"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+LADY JANE GREY
+
+    "Seventeen--and knew eight languages--in music
+    Peerless--her needle perfect, and her learning
+    Beyond the Churchmen; yet so meek, so modest,
+    So wife-like humble to the trivial boy
+    Mismatched with her for policy! I have heard
+    She would not take a last farewell of him;
+    She feared it might unman him for his end.
+    She could not be unmanned--no, nor outwoman'd.
+    Seventeen--a rose of grace!
+    Girl never breathed to rival such a rose;
+    Rose never blew that equalled such a bud."
+                                        --TENNYSON.
+
+
+When the hapless daughter of Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, offered
+up her fair young life upon the scaffold at Tower Hill she was still
+in her "teens"--with the simplicity and freshness of girlhood upon
+her. There is a tender and pathetic beauty about the tragic tale which
+no repetition can wholly dim or wear off.
+
+The reader needs not to be told that she was the eldest daughter of
+Henry Grey, third Marquis of Dorset. She was allied with royal blood,
+her mother being Frances the eldest daughter of Charles Brandon, Duke
+of Suffolk, and Mary Tudor, second daughter of Henry VII. She came
+also of royal stock on the father's side.
+
+It is a curious fact that the date of the birth of this lady is not
+exactly known; but, according to Fuller, it took place in 1536, at
+her father's stately mansion, of Bradgate, near Leicester. She was the
+eldest of three daughters, Jane, Katherine and Mary. At a very early
+age her budding gifts gave abundant promise of a fair womanhood; so
+serene her temper and so remarkable her love of knowledge. She was
+fortunate in living at a time when the education of women was as
+comprehensive and exact as that of men; and her father provided her
+with two learned tutors in his two chaplains, Thomas Harding and John
+Aylmer. To the latter she seems to have been more particularly given
+in charge; and the teacher being as zealous as the pupil was diligent,
+Lady Jane soon gained a thorough acquaintance with Latin and Greek,
+and also some degree of proficiency in Hebrew, Arabic, Chaldaic,
+French and Italian.
+
+These grave and serious studies were relieved by a cultivation of the
+graces. Her voice was melodious, and she sang with much skill and
+expression; she also played on various musical instruments. Her
+needle-work and embroidery excited the admiration of her
+contemporaries; she acquired a knowledge of the medical properties of
+herbs; dainty dishes, preserves, and "sweet waters" she concocted with
+dexterous hand; her calligraphy was a marvel of ease and elegance; in
+this last-named art she was instructed by the erudite Roger Ascham,
+who was one of its most famous professors.
+
+Thus it happened that even in her early girlhood she surpassed in
+general scholarship her equals in age. But her tutors did not forget
+the spiritual side of her education, and she was well grounded in the
+dogmas of the Church as well as in the truths and lessons embodied in
+the life and teaching of her Lord.
+
+After the death of Henry VIII. Lady Jane went to reside with the
+widowed Queen, Katherine Parr, at Chelsea; and when that lady married
+Lord Seymour of Dudley, she accompanied them to Hanworth, in
+Middlesex, a palace which Henry VIII. had bestowed upon Queen
+Katherine in dower. The Queen did not long survive her second
+nuptials, but died at Dudley Castle, September 5, 1548, in the
+thirty-sixth year of her age. Lady Jane acted as chief mourner at the
+funeral.
+
+It was soon after this event that Lady Jane addressed the following
+letter to the Lord High Admiral. As the composition of a girl of
+twelve it shows no ordinary promise:--
+
+                                          _October 1, 1548._
+
+    My duty to your lordship, in most humble wise remembered, with
+    no less thanks for the gentle letters which I received from you.
+    Thinking myself so much bound to your lordship for your great
+    goodness towards me from time to time, that I cannot by any
+    means be able to recompense the least part thereof, I purposed
+    to write a few rude lines unto your lordship, rather as a token
+    to show how much worthier I think your lordship's goodness than
+    to give worthy thanks for the same; and these my letters shall
+    be to testify unto you that, like as you have become towards me
+    a loving and kind father, so I shall be always most ready to
+    obey your godly monitions and good instructions, as becometh one
+    upon whom you have heaped so many benefits. And thus, fearing
+    lest I should trouble your lordship too much, I must humbly take
+    my leave of your good lordship.
+
+                         Your humble servant during my life,
+                                                       JANE GREY.
+
+It is not impossible that at Bradgate Lady Jane may have regretted the
+indulgent ease and splendid hospitality of Dudley Castle. Her parents
+acted upon the maxim that to spare the rod is to spoil the child; and
+notwithstanding her amiability and honourable diligence, subjected her
+to a very severe discipline. She was rigorously punished for the
+slightest defect in her behaviour or the most trivial failure in her
+studies. Her parents taught her to fear, rather than to love, them;
+and insisted upon reverence, rather than affection, as the duty of
+children. It is no wonder, therefore, that from the austere brow and
+unsympathetic voice she turned with ever-increasing delight towards
+that secret spirit of knowledge which has only smiles for its
+votaries.
+
+In the pages of the wise she met with divine words of encouragement
+and consolation; they soothed her sorrows, they taught her the heroism
+of endurance, they lifted her into that serene realm where dwelt the
+Immortals--the glorious minds of old. "Thus," says she, "my book hath
+been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily to me more and more
+pleasure, that in respect of it all other pleasures in very deed be
+but trifles and troubles unto me."
+
+From an interesting passage in Roger Ascham's "Schoolmaster," we can
+form some idea of the melancholy girlhood of this daughter of a royal
+race. Ascham visited Bradgate in the summer of 1550 on his way to
+London. He found, on his arrival, the stately mansion deserted; the
+Lord and Lady, with all their household, were hunting merrily in the
+park to the music of horn and hound. Making his way through the
+deserted chambers, he came at length upon a secluded apartment, where
+the fair Lady Jane was calmly studying the pages of Plato's immortal
+"Phaedon" in the original Greek. Surprised and delighted by a spectacle
+so unusual, the worthy scholar, after the usual salutations, inquired
+why she had not accompanied the gay lords and ladies in the park, to
+enjoy the pastime of the chase.
+
+"I wis," she replied, smiling, "all their sport in the park is but a
+shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas! good folk, they
+never felt what true pleasure meant."
+
+"And how came you, madam," quoth he, "to this deep knowledge of
+pleasure? And what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing not many
+women, but very few men, have attained thereunto?"
+
+"I will tell you," quoth she, "and tell you a truth which, perchance,
+ye will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me
+is that He sent me so sharp and severe parents and so gentle a
+schoolmaster. For when I am in presence either of father or mother,
+whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, be merry
+or sad, be sewing, playing, dancing or doing anything else, I must do
+it, as it were, in such weight, measure and number, even so perfectly
+as God made the world, or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly
+threatened, yea, presently, sometimes with pinches, nips and bobs, and
+other ways which I will not name for the honour I bear them, so
+without reason misordered, that I think myself in hell till time come
+that I must go to Mr. Aylmer; who teacheth me so gently, so
+pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all
+the time nothing whiles I am with him. And when I am called from him,
+I fall on weeping, because, whatever I do else but learning is full of
+grief, trouble, fear and whole misliking unto me."
+
+Ascham did not see her again after this memorable interview. "I
+remember this talk gladly," he wrote, "both because it is so worthy of
+memory and because also it was the last talk that ever I had and the
+last time that ever I saw that noble and worthy lady."
+
+In his letters to his learned friends, however, he frequently
+commented on the sweetness of her character and the depth of her
+erudition. He spoke of Lady Mildred Cooke and the Lady Jane Grey as
+the two most learned women in England; and summed up his praises of
+the latter in the remark that "however illustrious she was by her
+fortune and royal extraction, this bore no proportion to the
+accomplishments of her mind, adorned with the doctrine of Plato and
+the eloquence of Demosthenes."
+
+Her illustrious rank, her piety and her erudition necessarily made the
+Lady Jane an object of special interest to the leaders of the Reformed
+Church in England and on the continent. The learned Martin Bruce, whom
+Edward VI. had appointed to the chair of divinity at the University of
+Cambridge, watched over her with prayerful anxiety. Bullinger, a
+minister of Zurich, corresponded with her frequently, encouraging her
+in the practice of every virtue. Under the direction and counsel of
+these and other divines she pursued her theological studies with great
+success, so as to be able to defend and maintain the creed she had
+adopted, and give abundant reason for the faith that was in her.
+
+The Marquis of Dorset, in October, 1551, was raised to the dukedom of
+Suffolk; and on the same day the subtle and ambitious intriguer, John
+Dudley, Earl of Warwick, who was to exercise so malignant an influence
+on his daughter's destiny, was created Duke of Northumberland.
+
+The Lady Jane was then removed to the metropolis, residing with her
+family at her father's town house, in Suffolk Place. She necessarily
+shared in the festivities of the court; but she would seem to have
+been distinguished always by a remarkable plainness of apparel; in
+this obeying the impulse of her simplicity of taste, supported and
+confirmed by the advice of Bullinger and Aylmer.
+
+On one occasion the Princess Mary presented her with a sumptuous robe,
+which she was desired to wear in recognition of the donor's
+generosity. "Nay," she replied, "that were a shame, to follow my Lady
+Mary, who leaveth God's word, and leave my Lady Elizabeth who
+followeth God's word." A speech which the Lady Mary doubtless
+remembered.
+
+Early in 1553, men clearly saw that the life and reign of Edward VI.
+were drawing to an abrupt termination. His legitimate successor was
+his elder sister Mary; but her morose temper and bigoted attachment to
+the old Church had filled the minds of the Reformers with anxiety. Her
+unpopularity, and the dangers to the Reformed Church to be apprehended
+from her accession, led Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, to conceive an
+audacious design. He resolved to raise his son to the throne. But for
+this purpose it was necessary to ally him to the blood-royal, and he
+therefore planned a marriage between his young son, Lord Guilford
+Dudley, and Lady Jane Grey.
+
+There were such elements of fitness in the match that on neither side
+was any obstruction thrown; and in June 1553 the bridal ceremony took
+place at the Duke of Northumberland's palace in the Strand. The Duke
+then obtained from King Edward, by an appeal to his zeal for the
+Church, letters-patent excluding Mary and Elizabeth from the
+succession and declaring Lady Jane Grey heir to the throne.
+
+A few days afterwards the young king died; and on the evening of the
+9th of July, the Duke of Northumberland, accompanied by the Marquis of
+Northampton, the Earls of Arundel, Huntingdon and Pembroke, appeared
+before the young bride in her quiet chamber at Northumberland House,
+and urged her acceptance of a crown which was fated to become, for
+her, a crown of thorns.
+
+"How I was beside myself," she afterwards wrote, "how I was beside
+myself, stupefied and troubled, I will leave it to those lords who
+were present to testify, who saw me overcome by sudden and unexpected
+grief, fall on the ground, weeping very bitterly; and then declaring
+to them my insufficiency, I greatly bewailed myself for the death of
+so noble a Prince, and at the same time turned myself to God, humbly
+praying and beseeching Him that if what was given to me was _rightly
+and lawfully_ mine, His divine Majesty would grant _me_ such grace and
+spirit that I might govern it to His glory and service and to the
+advantage of this realm."
+
+Her prudent reluctance, however, was overruled. History records the
+brief twelve days' pageant of her reign.
+
+On the 19th of July her opponent, Mary entered London in triumph.
+
+"Great was the rejoicing," says a contemporary; so great that the like
+of it had never been seen by any living. The number of caps that were
+flung into the air at the proclamation could not be told. The Earl of
+Pembroke cast among the crowd a liberal largess. Bonfires blazed in
+every street; and what with shouting and crying of the people, and
+ringing of bells, there could no one man hear what another said.
+
+Lady Jane was at first confined in the house of one Partridge, a
+warder of the Tower. Thence, after she and her husband had been tried
+for high treason and found guilty, they were removed to the Tower.
+During her captivity she occasionally amused herself with the graceful
+pursuits of her earlier and happier years, engraving on the walls of
+her prison, with a pin, some Latin distich, which turned into English
+read:
+
+    "Believe not, man, in care's despite,
+      That thou from others' ills art free
+    The _cross_ that now _I_ suffer might
+      To-morrow haply fall on _thee_"
+
+    "Endless all malice, if our God is nigh:
+    Fruitless all pains, if He His help deny,
+    Patient I pass these gloomy hours away,
+    And wait the morning of eternal day."
+
+Her execution was fixed for the 12th of February 1554. On the night
+preceding she wrote a few sentences of advice to her sister on the
+blank leaf of a New Testament. To her father she addressed the
+following beautiful letter, in which filial reverence softens and
+subdues the exhortations of a dying saint:
+
+    The Lord comfort Your Grace, and that in His Word, wherein all
+    creatures only are to be comforted; and though it hath pleased
+    God to take away two of your children, yet think not, I most
+    humbly beseech Your Grace, that you have lost them; but trust
+    that we, by leaving this mortal life, have won an immortal life.
+    And I, for my part, as I have honoured Your Grace in this life,
+    will pray for you in another life.--Your Grace's humble
+    daughter,
+
+                                            JANE DUDLEY.
+
+The stern Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir John Brydges, had been
+vanquished by the gentle graces of his prisoner and he sought from her
+some memorial in writing. In a manual of manuscript prayers she wrote
+a few sentences of farewell:
+
+    Forasmuch as you have desired so simple a woman to write in so
+    worthy a book, good Master Lieutenant, therefore I shall, as a
+    friend, desire you, and as a Christian require you, to call upon
+    God to incline your heart to His laws, to quicken you in His
+    way, and not to take the word of truth utterly out of your
+    mouth. Live still to die, that by death you may purchase eternal
+    life, and remember how Methuselah, who, as we read in the
+    Scriptures, was the longest liver that was of a man, died at the
+    last; for, as the Preacher saith, there is a time to be born and
+    a time to die; and the day of death is better than the day of
+    our birth.--Yours, as the Lord knoweth, as a friend,
+
+                                            JANE DUDLEY.
+
+Mary and her advisers had originally intended that both Lady Jane and
+her husband should be executed together on Tower Hill; but reflection
+convinced them that the spectacle of so comely and youthful a pair
+suffering for what was rather the crime of others than their own,
+might powerfully awaken the sympathies of the multitude, and produce a
+revulsion of feeling. It was ordered, therefore, that Lady Jane should
+suffer within the precincts of the Tower.
+
+The fatal morning came. The young husband--still a bridegroom and a
+lover--had obtained permission to bid her a last farewell; but she
+refused to see him, apprehensive that so bitter a parting might
+overwhelm them, and deprive them of the courage needful to face death
+with calmness. She sent him, however, many loving messages, reminding
+him how brief would be their separation, and how quickly they would
+meet in a brighter and better world.
+
+In going to his death on Tower Hill, he passed beneath the window of
+her cell; so that they had an opportunity of exchanging a farewell
+look. He behaved on the scaffold with calm intrepidity. After spending
+a brief space in silent devotion, he requested the prayers of the
+spectators, and, laying his head upon the block, gave the fatal
+signal. At one blow his head was severed from his body.
+
+The scaffold on which the girl-queen was to close her stainless career
+had been erected on the green opposite the White Tower. As soon as her
+husband was dead the officers announced that the sheriffs waited to
+attend her thither. And when she had gone down and been delivered into
+their hands, the bystanders noted in her "a countenance so gravely
+settled and with all modest and comely resolution, that not the least
+symptom either of fear or grief could be perceived either in her
+speech or motions; she was like one going to be united to her heart's
+best and longest beloved."
+
+So, like a martyr, crowned with glory, she went unto her death. Her
+serene composure was scarcely shaken when, through an unfortunate
+misunderstanding of the officer in command, she met on her way her
+husband's headless trunk being borne to its last resting-place.
+
+"Oh Guilford! Guilford!" she exclaimed; "the antepast is not so bitter
+that you have tasted, and that I shall soon taste, as to make my flesh
+tremble; it is nothing compared to the feast that you and I shall this
+day partake of in heaven." This thought renewed her strength and
+sustained and consoled, we might almost believe, by ministering
+angels, she proceeded to the scaffold with as much grace and dignity
+as if it were a wedding banquet that awaited her.
+
+She was conducted by Sir John Brydges, the Lieutenant of the Tower,
+and attended by her two waiting-women, Mrs. Elizabeth Tylney and Mrs.
+Ellen. While these wept and sobbed bitterly, her eyes were dry, and
+her countenance shone with the light of a sure and certain hope. She
+read earnestly her manual of prayers. On reaching the place of
+execution she saluted the lords and gentlemen present with unshaken
+composure and infinite grace. No minister of her own Church had been
+allowed to attend her, and she did not care to accept the services of
+Feckenham, Queen Mary's confessor. She was not indifferent, however,
+to his respectful sympathy and when bidding him farewell, she said:
+
+"Go now; God grant you all your desires, and accept my own warm thanks
+for your attentions to me; although, indeed, those attentions have
+tried me more than death could now terrify me."
+
+To the spectators she addressed a few gentle words, in admirable
+keeping with the gentle tenor of her life.
+
+"Good people," she exclaimed, "I am come hither to die, and by law I
+am condemned to the same. My offence to the Queen's Highness was only
+in consent to the device of others, which now is deemed treason; but
+it was never my seeking, but by counsel of those who should seem to
+have further understanding of things than I, who knew little of the
+law, and much less of the titles to the Crown. I pray you all, good
+Christian people, to bear me witness that I die a true Christian
+woman, and that I look to be saved by none other means but only by the
+mercy of God, in the merits of the blood of His only son, Jesus
+Christ; and I confess, when I did know the word of God, I neglected
+the same, loved myself and the world, and therefore this plague or
+punishment is happily and worthily happened unto me for my sins; and
+yet I thank God of His goodness, that He hath thus given me a time and
+respite to repent. And now, good people, while I am alive, I pray you
+to assist me with your prayers."
+
+She knelt to her devotions, and turning to Feckenham, inquired whether
+she should repeat the Miserere psalm (the fifty-first, "Have mercy
+upon me, O Lord").
+
+He replied in the affirmative; and she said it with great earnestness
+from beginning to end. Rising from her knees, she began to prepare
+herself for the headsman and pulling off her gloves, gave them and her
+handkerchief to Mistress Tylney. The manual of prayers, in which she
+had written at the desire of the Lieutenant, she handed to Thomas
+Brydges, his brother. When she was unfastening her robe, the
+executioner would have assisted her, but she motioned him aside, and
+accepted the last offices of her waiting-women, who then gave her a
+white handkerchief with which to bandage her eyes.
+
+Throwing himself at her feet, the headsman humbly craved her
+forgiveness, which she willingly granted. He then requested her to
+stand upon the straw, and in complying with his direction she for the
+first time saw the fatal block. Her composure remained unshaken; she
+simply entreated the executioner to dispatch her quickly. Again
+kneeling she asked him:
+
+"Will you take it off before I lay me down?"
+
+"No, madam," he replied.
+
+She bound the handkerchief round her eyes, and feeling for the block,
+exclaimed,
+
+"What shall I do? Where is it?"
+
+Being guided to it by one of the bystanders, she laid her head down,
+exclaiming, in an audible voice:
+
+"Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit."
+
+In an instant the axe fell, and the tragedy was consummated. An
+involuntary groan from the assembled multitude seemed to acknowledge
+that vengeance had been satisfied, but justice outraged.
+
+Lady Jane--or Queen Jane, as she should more properly be called--was
+little more than seventeen years old when she thus fell a victim to
+Mary's jealous fears and hate. She had hardly entered upon womanhood,
+and the promise of her young life had had no time to ripen into
+fruition. We may well believe, however, that she would not have
+disappointed the hopes which that promise had awakened. Her heroic
+death showed how well she had profited by the lessons she had imbibed
+in her early years.
+
+There was no affectation, no exaggeration, in her conduct upon the
+scaffold; but she bore herself with serene dignity and with true
+courage. It was worthy of her life--which, brief as an unhappy fortune
+made it, was full of beauty, full of calmness, and truth, and
+elevation and modest piety. The impression which it made upon her
+contemporaries, an impression taken up and retained by posterity, is
+visible in the fact to this hour we speak of her as she was in her
+sweet simple maidenhood--we pass over her married name and her regal
+title, and love to honour her, not as Lady Jane Dudley, or Queen Jane,
+but as Lady Jane Grey.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+POCAHONTAS
+
+
+In his younger days Powhatan had been a great warrior. He was the
+chief, or _werowance_, of eight tribes. Through conquest his dominions
+had been extended until they reached from the James River to the
+Potomac, from the sea to the falls in the rivers, and included thirty
+of the forty tribes in Virginia. It is estimated that his subjects
+numbered eight thousand. The name of his nation and the Indian name of
+the James River was Powhatan. His enemies were two neighbouring
+confederacies, the Mannahoacs, between the Rappahannock and York
+rivers, and the Monacans between the York and James rivers, above the
+falls.
+
+Powhatan lived sometimes at a village of his name, where Richmond now
+stands, and sometimes at Werowocomoco, on the York River. He had in
+each of his hereditary villages a house built like a long arbour for
+his especial reception. When Powhatan visited one of these villages a
+feast was already spread in the long house or arbour. He had a hunting
+town in the wilderness called Orapax. A mile from this place, deep in
+the woods, he had another arbour-like house, where he kept furs,
+copper, pearls, and beads, treasures which he was saving against his
+burial.
+
+Powhatan had twenty sons and eleven daughters living. We know nothing
+of his sons except Nanteguas, "the most manliest, comliest, boldest
+spirit" ever seen in "a savage." Pocahontas was Powhatan's favourite
+daughter. She was born in 1594 or 1595. Of her mother nothing is
+known. Powhatan had many wives; when he tired of them he would present
+them to those of his subjects whom he considered the most deserving.
+
+Indians are frequently known by several names. It is a disappointment
+to learn that the name which the romantic story of this Indian
+princess has made so famous was not her real name. She was called in
+childhood Metoax, or Metoake. Concealing this from the English,
+because of a superstitious notion that if these pale-faced strangers
+knew her true name they could do her some harm, the Indians gave her
+name as Pocahontas.
+
+Powhatan's authority, like that of all Indian chiefs, was held in
+check by custom. "The lawes whereby he ruleth," says Captain Smith,
+"is custome. Yet when he listeth, his will is a law, and must be
+obeyed: not only as a king, but as halfe a god they esteeme him."
+
+Each village and tribe had its respective chief, or "werowance," as he
+was called among the Powhatan Indians. The affairs of the tribe were
+settled in a council of the chiefs and warriors of the several
+villages.
+
+Powhatan was the great werowance over all, "unto whom," says Captain
+Smith, "they pay tribute of skinnes, beads, copper, pearle, deere,
+turkies, wild beasts, and corne. What he commandeth they dare not
+disobey in the least thing. It is strange to see with what care and
+adoration all these people do obey this Powhatan. For at his feete
+they present whatsoever he commandeth, and at the least frown of his
+brow, their greatest spirits will tremble! and no marvell, for he is
+very terrible and tyrannous in punishing such as offend him."
+
+It was a barbarous life in which the little Pocahontas was bred. Her
+people always washed their young babies in the river on the coldest
+mornings to harden them. She was accustomed to see her old father
+sitting at the door of his cabin regarding with grim pleasure a string
+of his enemy's scalps, suspended from tree to tree, and waving in the
+breeze. Men in England in her time idealised her into a princess and
+fine lady. In our time historians have been surprised and indignant at
+finding that she was not a heroine of romance, but simply an Indian
+maiden. Such as her life made her she was--in her manners an untrained
+savage. But she was also the steadfast friend and helper of the feeble
+colony, and that is why her life is heroic and full of interest.
+
+Powhatan, sensible of the pomp and dignity proper to his position as a
+great warrior, particularly desired to impress the English who were
+settling at Jamestown. A member of the colony, Captain Smith had been
+prisoner for several weeks and was detained until preparations had
+been made to receive him in state.
+
+When Powhatan and his train had had time to deck themselves in all
+"their greatest braveries," Captain Smith was admitted to the chief's
+presence. He was seated upon a sort of divan resembling a bedstead.
+Before him was a fire, and on either hand sat two young women about
+eighteen years of age. Powhatan, "well beaten with many cold and
+stormy winters," wore strings of pearls around his neck, and was
+covered with a great robe of raccoon skins decorated with the tails.
+Around the council house was ranged a double row of warriors. Behind
+these were as many women. The heads and shoulders of the Indians were
+painted red, many had their hair decorated with white down, and all
+wore some savage ornament.
+
+On the appearance of the prisoner a great shout arose from these
+primitive courtiers. An Indian woman was appointed to bring water for
+the prisoner to wash his hands in. Another woman brought him feathers
+to dry them and Captain Smith was then feasted in the "best barbarous
+manner," and a council was held to decide his fate. This debate lasted
+a long time, but the conclusion could hardly have been favourable to
+Captain Smith, since Powhatan was jealous of the white colony already
+encroaching upon his seclusion at Werowocomoco.
+
+During this solemn debate Captain Smith must have felt anything but
+comfortable. He did not know his doom until two stones were brought in
+and placed before Powhatan. Then as many as could lay hands on him
+dragged him to the feet of the chief and laid his head upon the
+stones. The executioners raised their clubs to beat out his brains.
+Such a scene was not uncommon in this forest court. From childhood
+these savage men and women were accustomed to exult in the most
+barbarous tortures and executions. It is then the more wonderful that
+the heart of a little Indian maiden should have been touched with pity
+for the doomed white man. Pocahontas, a child of ten or twelve, and
+"the king's dearest daughter," pleaded for the life of the captive.
+But "no entreaty could prevail" with the stern Powhatan.
+
+The warriors were ready to strike the blow, when the child flew to the
+side of Captain Smith, took "his head in her arms and laid her own
+upon his to save him from death, whereat," says the quaint narrative
+"the Emperor [Powhatan] was contented he should live to make him
+hatchets and her beads and copper," thinking he was accustomed to
+follow all occupations. "For," says the story, "the king himself will
+make his own robes, shoes, bows, arrows, and pots," while he would
+"plant, hunt, or do any thing so well as the rest."
+
+Powhatan did not long detain Captain Smith for such trivial uses as
+making trinkets for Pocahontas. It had become the desire of his heart
+to possess the powerful weapons and tools of the English. He saw that
+a friend in Jamestown would be a good thing, and he perhaps hoped from
+friendly commerce with the colony to acquire ascendancy over other
+Indian tribes.
+
+He took occasion to express his wishes to Captain Smith in a curious
+manner.
+
+Two days after his rescue from death he had the captive taken to one
+of his arbour-like buildings in the woods and left alone upon a mat by
+the fire. The house was curtained off in the centre with a mat. Soon a
+most doleful noise came from behind the mat, and Powhatan, disguised
+in "the most fearfullest manner," and looking "more like a devil than
+a man," entered, with some two hundred Indians, painted black. The
+outcome of this impressive ceremony was that Powhatan told Captain
+Smith that they were now friends, and that he would presently send him
+home, and that when he arrived at Jamestown he must send him two great
+guns and a grindstone. In return he said he would give him the country
+of Capahowosick, and would always consider him his son.
+
+Captain Smith was accordingly sent to Jamestown with twelve guides.
+The Indians delayed on their journey, though the distance was short.
+They camped in the woods one night, and feasted sumptuously; but
+Captain Smith was in constant fear of his life still, "expecting every
+hour to be put to one death or another." He was, however, led in
+safety to the fort. Here he treated his savage guides with great
+hospitality, and showed Rawhunt, a trusty servant of Powhatan, two
+demi-culverins (long cannons carrying a nine-pound shot) and a
+mill-stone to carry to his chief. The Indians however, "found them
+somewhat too heavy." For their benefit, Captain Smith had the guns
+loaded with stones, and discharged among the boughs of trees covered
+with icicles. The crashing fall of the ice-laden limbs so frightened
+the Indians that they fled, "half dead with fear," and it was some
+time before they could be induced to return. Presents of various toys
+were given them for Powhatan and his family, and they went away
+satisfied.
+
+The winter of 1607-08 was remarkably cold, both in Europe and America.
+In the midst of its severity an accident resulted in a fire which
+destroyed many of the reed-thatched cottages, the palisades, and much
+of the provisions of the colonists at Jamestown.
+
+Powhatan still looked with covetous eyes upon the glittering swords,
+the ponderous muskets, and the serviceable pistols of the English. So
+long as the white man used supernatural bullets and sharp-edged swords
+and the red man possessed only tomahawks of stone and stone-pointed
+arrows and javelins, so long were the English safe from Indian
+attacks. It was now the ambition of Powhatan's life to obtain a goodly
+store of English weapons, instead of the rude wooden swords used by
+the Indians. Savage-like, he went about his purpose in the most crafty
+way with the most innocent air. And sent twenty turkeys "to express
+his love," with the request that Captain Smith would return the
+compliment with a present of twenty swords. But Smith refused,
+knowing it would cut the throat of the colony to put such weapons into
+the hands of the crafty chief.
+
+Powhatan was not to be thus outdone. If he could not procure the
+swords in one way he would in another. "He caused his people with
+twenty devices to obtain" as many swords. The Indians became
+"insolent." They surprised the colonists at their work. They would lie
+in ambuscade at the very gates of Jamestown and procure the weapons of
+stragglers by force. The council in England had deemed it the only
+wise policy to keep peace with the savages at all hazards, and a wise
+policy it was if it were not carried too far. The orders from this
+body had been very strict; the colonists were in no way to offend the
+Indians.
+
+Thus a "charitable humour prevailed" until Captain Smith was the man
+they "meddled" with. This fiery soldier did not wait for deliberation.
+He hunted the miscreants, and those whom he captured he "terrified"
+with whipping and imprisonment. In return, the Indians captured two
+straggling Englishmen, and came in force to the very gates of
+Jamestown, demanding seven Indians, whom, "for their villainies,"
+Smith had detained. The irrepressible Captain immediately headed a
+sally in which he forced the Indians to surrender the Englishmen
+unconditionally. He then examined his prisoners, but they were
+faithful to their chief, and he could get nothing from them. He made
+six of them believe, by "several volleys of shot," that he had caused
+one of their number to be killed. They immediately confessed, in
+separate examinations, to a plot on the part of Powhatan to procure
+the weapons, and then to cut the throats of the colonists. Captain
+Smith still detained the Indians, resolving to give them a wholesome
+fright.
+
+Pocahontas presently came to Jamestown, accompanied by Indian
+messengers. Her father had sent them with presents, and a message
+excusing "the injuries done by some rash, untoward captains, his
+subjects, desiring their liberties for this time with the assurance of
+his love forever."
+
+When Captain Smith had punished his seven prisoners as he thought fit,
+he "used them well" for a few days, and delivered them to Pocahontas,
+pretending that he saved their lives only for the sake of the little
+Indian girl.
+
+One cannot refrain from admiring in the brave colonists and their
+captain the fortitude and persistence that they showed, and the
+wonderful tact with which they managed the natives. Many had died,
+some had recovered, and others were still sick.
+
+Captain Smith had been installed as president. He governed the colony
+wisely. His measures were doubtless severe, but severity was necessary
+among these men totally unqualified for a frontier life, with an
+unwise management in England, and endless discontent and jealousy at
+Jamestown. Men shut up together in hard circumstances are sure to fall
+out.
+
+Captain Smith went energetically to work to better the condition of
+the colony. Jamestown was once more the scene of busy activity. Church
+and storehouse were repaired, new houses built for more supplies, and
+the fort altered in form. The soldiers were drilled every day upon a
+plain called Smithfield. Here crowds of Indians would gather to watch
+with wonder the Englishmen shoot at a mark.
+
+Captain Smith, to quiet all fears, and to show his willingness to
+assist in the business on hand, as well as to hasten an affair which
+would consume so much valuable time, undertook with four companions a
+journey to Werowocomoco, to ask Powhatan to come to Jamestown.
+
+It was now the season to trade for corn with the Indians.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the Englishmen reached the home of Powhatan they found that he
+was some thirty miles away. They were received by the steadfast friend
+of all white men, Pocahontas. She sent messengers for her father, and
+undertook to entertain her friends while they waited.
+
+The Englishmen were left in an open space, seated on a mat by the
+fire. Suddenly they heard a "hideous noise" in the woods. Supposing
+that Powhatan and his warriors were upon them, they sprang to their
+feet, grasped their arms and seized two or three old Indians who were
+near them. Pocahontas came to them, however, with her apology, saying
+that they might kill her "if any hurt were intended." Those who stood
+near, men, women and children, assured the white men that all was
+right. Presently thirty young women came rushing out of the woods.
+Their only covering was a cincture or apron of green leaves; they were
+gaily painted, some one colour and some another. Every girl wore a
+pair of deer's horns on her head, while from her girdle and upon one
+arm hung an otter's skin. The leader wore a quiver of arrows, and
+carried a bow and arrow in her hands. The others followed with swords,
+clubs and pot-sticks.
+
+"These fiends, with most hellish shouts and cries," says the
+ungallant narrator, "cast themselves in a ring about the fire, singing
+and dancing with most excellent ill variety." This masquerade lasted
+about half an hour, when the Indian girls disappeared as they had
+come.
+
+They again reappeared in their ordinary costume. Pocahontas invited
+Captain Smith to a dinner which had been spread for him with "all the
+savage dainties" which they could procure. They tormented the captain
+by pressing around him saying, "Love you not me? Love you not me?"
+While he feasted they danced, and ended by conducting him to his
+lodging with fire-brands for torches.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Powhatan arrived the next day. Cold weather had come and famine began
+to stare the colonists in the face. The president set out for the
+country of the Nansemond Indians. These people refused not only to
+provide the four hundred bushels of corn which they had promised in
+their treaty with the colonists on their previous visit, but they
+refused to trade at all. Their excuse was that they had used up the
+most that they had, and that they were under commands from Powhatan
+neither to trade with the English nor to allow them to enter their
+river. The English had recourse to force, and the Indians fled at the
+first volley of musketry without shooting a single arrow. The first
+cabin the white men discovered they set on fire. The Indians
+immediately desired peace, and promised the English half that they
+had. Before night all the boats were loaded with corn, and the English
+sailed some four miles down the river. Here they camped out for the
+night in the open woods on frozen ground covered with snow.
+
+The manner in which these adventurers of nearly three hundred years
+ago made themselves comfortable is interesting. They would dig away
+the snow and build a great fire, which would serve to dry and warm the
+ground. They would then scrape away the fire, spread a mat on the
+place where it had been, and here they would sleep with another mat
+hung up as a shield against the wind. In the night, as the wind
+shifted, they would change their hanging mat, and when the ground grew
+cold they would again remove their fire and take its place. Their
+story says that many "a cold winter night" did the adventurers sleep
+thus; and yet those who went on these expeditions "were always in
+health, lusty and fat."
+
+Finding that the old Indian chief had determined to starve the colony
+out of existence by a refusal to trade with the white men, Captain
+Smith, appreciating the desperate extremity, resolved to take, as
+usual, the boldest plan out of the difficulty. He meditated a plan for
+surprising and entrapping Powhatan into his power. Smith saw no other
+chance to procure food, and starving men do not stop to debate whether
+a course is right or wrong.
+
+About this time Powhatan sent a message to Smith inviting him to visit
+him, and saying that if he would but build him a house, give him a
+grindstone, fifty swords, some firearms, a hen and rooster, and much
+beads and copper, he would fill the ship with corn. Captain Smith made
+haste to accept this offer. He sent some of the Dutchmen and some
+Englishmen ahead to begin the building of Powhatan's house.
+
+On the twelfth of January the English neared Werowocomoco. The ice
+extended nearly half a mile from shore in the York River. Captain
+Smith pushed as near the shore as he could in the barge, by breaking
+the ice. Impatient of remaining in an open boat in the freezing cold,
+he jumped into the half-frozen marsh, and waded ashore. His example
+was followed by eighteen of his men.
+
+The English quartered at the first cabins they reached, and announced
+their arrival in a message to Powhatan, requesting provision. The
+chief sent them plenty of bread, venison and turkeys, and feasted them
+according to his custom. The following day, however, he desired to
+know when they "would be gone," pretending that he had not sent for
+the English. He made the astonishing statement that he himself had no
+corn, and his people had much less; but that he would furnish them
+forty baskets of this grain for as many swords. Captain Smith quickly
+confronted him with the men who had brought Powhatan's message to
+Jamestown, and asked the chief "how it chanced he became so
+forgetful." Powhatan answered with "a merry laughter," and invited the
+English to show their commodities. But the crafty chief was not suited
+with anything, unless it were guns or swords.
+
+"Powhatan," said Captain Smith, "believing your promises to supply my
+wants, I neglected all to satisfy your desire, and to testify my love
+I sent you my men for your building, neglecting mine own. As for
+swords and guns, I told you long ago I had none to spare, and you must
+know those I have can keep me from want. Yet steal or wrong you I will
+not, nor dissolve that friendship we have mutually promised, except
+you constrain me by your bad usage."
+
+Powhatan listened attentively to this speech, and promised that he
+would spare them what he could, which he would deliver to them in two
+days.
+
+"Yet, Captain Smith," said the chief, "I have some doubt of your
+coming hither that makes me not so kindly seek to relieve you as I
+would, for many do inform me your coming hither is not for trade, but
+to invade my people and possess my country, who dare not bring you
+corn, seeing you thus armed with your men. To free us of this fear,
+leave aboard your weapons, for here they are needless, we being all
+friends."
+
+But Captain Smith was not to be cajoled into a council without
+weapons. That night was spent at Werowocomoco, and the following day
+the building of Powhatan's house went forward.
+
+Meanwhile the English managed "to wrangle" some ten bushels of corn
+out of the chief for a copper kettle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The chief was dissatisfied that he could not have his way.
+
+"Captain Smith," said Powhatan with a sigh, "I never used any
+werowance so kindly as yourself, yet from you I receive the least
+kindness of any. Another captain gave me swords, copper, clothes, a
+bed, towels or what I desired, ever taking what I offered him, and
+would send away his guns when I entreated him; none doth deny to lie
+at my feet or refuse to do what I desire but only you, of whom I can
+have nothing but what you regard not, and yet you will have whatsoever
+you demand. You call me father, but I see you will do what you list,
+and we must seek to content you. But if you intend so friendly as you
+say, send hence your arms, that I may believe you."
+
+The wily old chief was right. Captain Smith was determined to have his
+own way. He saw that nothing could be gained thus. Powhatan was
+watching with lynx eyes for a chance to get the white men into his
+power while he delivered eloquent and persuasive speeches. Captain
+Smith asked the savages to break the ice for him that his boat might
+reach the shore, to take him and the corn. He intended, when the boat
+came, to land more men and surprise the chief. Meanwhile, to entertain
+Powhatan and keep him from suspecting anything, he made the following
+reply to his last speech:
+
+"Powhatan, you must know as I have but one God I honour but one king,
+and I live not here as your subject, but as your friend, to pleasure
+you with what I can. By the gifts you bestow on me you gain more than
+by trade, yet would you visit me as I do you, you should know it is
+not our custom to sell our courtesies. To content you, to-morrow I
+will leave my arms and trust to your promise. I call you father
+indeed, and as a father you shall see I will love you; but the small
+care you have for such a child caused my men to persuade me to look to
+myself."
+
+But Powhatan was not to be fooled. His mind was on the fast
+disappearing ice. He managed to disengage himself from the captain's
+conversation, and secretly fled with his women, children and luggage.
+To avoid any suspicion, two or three women were left to engage Captain
+Smith in talk while warriors beset the house where they were. When
+Captain Smith discovered what they were doing, he and John Russell
+went about making their way out with the help of their pistols, swords
+and Indian shields. At the first shot the savages tumbled "one over
+another" and quickly fled in every direction, and the two men reached
+their companions in safety.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Powhatan saw that his stratagem had failed. He immediately tried to
+remove the unfavourable impression which this event and the sudden
+appearance of so many warriors might make on the minds of the
+English. He sent an "ancient orator" to Captain Smith with presents
+of a great bracelet and chain of pearls.
+
+"Captain Smith," said the Indian, "our werowance has fled, fearing
+your guns, and knowing when the ice was broken there would come more
+men; he sent these numbers but to guard his corn from stealing. Now
+since the ice is open, he would have you send away your corn, and if
+you would have his company, send away also your guns, which so
+affrighteth his people that they dare not come to you as he promised
+they should."
+
+The Indians provided baskets that the English might carry their corn
+to the boat. They were officious in tendering their services to guard
+the colonists' arms while they were thus occupied, lest any one should
+steal them. There were crowds of those grim, sturdy savages about; but
+the sight of the white men cocking their matchlock guns rendered them
+exceedingly meek. They were easily persuaded by this sight to leave
+their bows and arrows in charge of the Englishmen, while they
+themselves carried the corn down to the boats on their own backs. This
+they did with wonderful dispatch.
+
+Ebb tide left the boat stuck in the marsh, and the adventurers were
+obliged to remain at Werowocomoco until high water. They returned to
+the cabins where they were at first quartered. The savages entertained
+them until night with "merry sports," and then left them. Powhatan was
+gathering his forces and planning the certain destruction of his
+visitors. The English were alone in the Indian cabins. Suddenly
+Pocahontas, Powhatan's "dearest jewel and daughter," as she is styled
+in the quaint narrative, appeared before Captain Smith. She had come
+this dark night through the "irksome woods" alone from her father's
+cabin.
+
+"Captain Smith," said she, "great cheer will be sent you by and by;
+but Powhatan and all the power he can make will after come and kill
+you all, if they that bring you the cheer do not kill you with your
+own weapons when you are at supper. Therefore, if you would live, I
+wish you presently to be gone."
+
+Captain Smith wished to give Pocahontas presents of those trifles dear
+to the heart of an Indian, and such as Pocahontas most delighted in.
+
+"I dare not," said the girl, with tears running down her cheeks, "be
+seen to have any, for if Powhatan should know it, I am but dead."
+
+She then ran away into the woods as she had come. Within less than an
+hour, eight or ten savages came, bringing great platters of venison
+and other food. They begged the Englishmen to put out the matches of
+their guns, for the "smoke made them sick," and to sit down to eat.
+But the Captain was vigilant. He made the Indians first taste of every
+dish, and he then sent them back to Powhatan, asking him, "to make
+haste," for he was awaiting his arrival. Soon after more messengers
+came, "to see what news," and they were followed in a short time by
+still more. Thus the night was spent by both parties with the utmost
+vigilance, though to all appearances they were on very friendly terms.
+When high water came the English prepared to depart. At Powhatan's
+request they left a man named Edward Brynton to hunt for him, while
+the Dutchmen remained to finish his house.
+
+On an eminence near where Werowocomoco must have been, still stands a
+stone chimney which is known to this day as "Powhatan's Chimney," and
+according to tradition is the chimney of the house which the colonists
+erected for this chief.
+
+For several years Powhatan continued to be hostile to the colonists.
+In one way and another he possessed himself of many English arms, and
+detained a number of Englishmen as prisoners. Some time after this
+Pocahontas happened to be among the Potomacs on the river of that
+name. One account says that she had gone thither, feasting among her
+friends, but another writer of that time says that she had been sent
+to the Potomacs to trade with them. Perhaps also Powhatan distrusted
+her friendship for the whites. Whatever may have been the cause,
+Pocahontas was certainly making a stay on the Potomac River.
+
+The English Captain Argall had gone to trade with the Indians on the
+Potomac. Some friendly Indians informed him that Pocahontas was in the
+region. A plan for bringing Powhatan to terms immediately suggested
+itself to the unscrupulous captain. He sent for one of the Indian
+chiefs, and told him that if he did not give Pocahontas into his hands
+they would no longer be "brothers nor friends." The Potomac Indians
+were at first unwilling to do this, fearing that it might involve them
+in a war with Powhatan. Captain Argall assured them that he would take
+their part in such a war, and they consented to his plan.
+
+The following story is told of the manner in which Pocahontas was
+betrayed. The Indian girl manifested no desire to go aboard Captain
+Argall's vessels, having many a time been on English vessels, in her
+friendly relations with the whites. Captain Argall offered an old
+Indian named Japazaws the irresistible bribe of a copper kettle if he
+would betray Pocahontas into his power. Japazaws undertook to do this
+with the assistance of his wife. This wife became immediately
+possessed with an intense desire to visit the English ship, which she
+said had been there three or four times and she had never been aboard
+it. She begged her husband to allow her to go aboard, but Japazaws
+sternly refused, saying she could not go unless she had some woman to
+accompany her. He at last threatened to beat her for her persistence.
+
+The tender heart of Pocahontas was moved with pity; she offered to
+accompany the woman on board the English vessel. Japazaws and his wife
+with the chief's daughter were taken on to the ship, where they were
+well entertained and invited to supper. The old man and his wife were
+so well pleased with their success that during the whole meal they
+kept treading on Captain Argall's toes. After supper the captain sent
+Pocahontas to the gun-room while he pretended to have a private
+conversation with Japazaws. He presently recalled her, and told her
+that she must remain with him, and that she should not again see
+Powhatan until she had served to bring about a peace between her
+father and the English. Immediately Japazaws and his wife set up "a
+howl and cry," and Pocahontas began to be "exceedingly pensive and
+discontented." The old people were rowed to shore, happy in the
+possession of their copper kettle and some trinkets.
+
+Captain Argall sent an Indian messenger to Powhatan, informing him
+that "his delight and darling, his daughter Pocahontas," was a
+prisoner, and informing him that "if he would send home the Englishmen
+whom he had detained in slavery, with such arms and tools as the
+Indians had gotten and stolen, and also a great quantity of corn, that
+then he should have his daughter restored, otherwise not."
+
+Powhatan was "very much grieved," having a strong affection both for
+his daughter and for the English weapons which he possessed. It was a
+hard alternative. He sent, however, a message desiring the English to
+use Pocahontas well, and promising to perform the conditions for her
+rescue.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a long time before anything more was heard from Powhatan. After
+three months he sent to the governor by way of ransom seven
+Englishmen, overjoyed to be free from slavery and the constant fear of
+cruel death, three muskets, a broadaxe, a whip-saw, and a canoe full
+of corn. These were accompanied by a message to the effect that he
+would satisfy injuries, give the English a large quantity of corn, and
+be forever their friend when his daughter was delivered up. The
+English received these things "in part payment," and returned such an
+answer as this to Powhatan:
+
+"Your daughter shall be well used, but we cannot believe the rest of
+our arms are either lost or stolen from you, and therefore, till you
+send them we will keep your daughter."
+
+The wily old chief was much grieved at this message, and it was again
+a long time before anything was heard from him. At last Sir Thomas
+Dale, then the governor of the colony, taking with him Pocahontas and
+one hundred and fifty men, embarked in the colony's vessels for a
+visit to Powhatan. The party sailed up the York River. Powhatan was
+not to be seen. The English told the Indians that they had come to
+deliver up the daughter of Powhatan and to receive the promised return
+of men and arms. These overtures were received with scornful threats
+and open hostility. Skirmishing ensued, in which some of the Indian
+houses were burned and property spoiled.
+
+The Indians asked why this had been done. The English answered by
+asking why they had shot at them. The Indians excused themselves,
+laying the blame on some straggling savages. They protested they
+intended no harm, but were the white man's friends. The English
+rejoined that they did not come to hurt them, but came as friends.
+
+A peace was patched up and messengers were sent to Powhatan. The
+Indians told the English that their imprisoned men "were run off" for
+fear the English would hang them, but that Powhatan's men "were run
+after to bring them back." They promised to return them with the
+stolen swords and muskets on the following day. The English perceived
+that this story was told only to gain time.
+
+Meantime two brothers of Pocahontas came aboard the ship to visit her.
+They had heard that she was not well, and were overjoyed to find her
+in good health and contented. While they were visiting with their
+sister, Mr. John Rolfe and Mr. Sparks were sent to negotiate with
+Powhatan. They were received kindly and hospitably entertained, but
+they were not admitted to the presence of the offended chief. His
+brother, Opechancanough, saw them and promised to do the best he could
+with Powhatan, saying that "all might be well." With such slight
+satisfaction the English were obliged to return to Jamestown, for it
+was now April and time to sow corn.
+
+Pocahontas had been about a year a prisoner at Jamestown. There can be
+no doubt that she was treated with the greatest friendliness by the
+colonists. Her feelings had always been warm for the white strangers.
+Now that she was an innocent and interesting young prisoner among
+them, what more natural than that she should be honoured and petted?
+Pocahontas was now a woman, being about eighteen to nineteen years of
+age. To judge from her portrait she could not have had the beauty with
+which tradition has invested her, but she had at least a pleasant and
+interesting face, and there must have been some charm in her large
+black eyes and straight black hair.
+
+There was one colonist at least who took a great interest in the young
+prisoner. Mr. John Rolfe is styled in the different records "an honest
+gentleman of good behaviour," "an honest and discreet English
+gentleman," "a gentleman of approved behaviour and honest carriage."
+
+The subject of the conversion of Pocahontas had weighed heavily upon
+the mind of Mr. Rolfe. He accordingly attempted to convert her to
+Christianity, and in doing so fell in love with her. Pocahontas became
+a Christian, and what more natural than that the constant friend of
+the white men should love an Englishman?
+
+Long before the trip up the York River Mr. Rolfe had loved the Indian
+maiden. He wrote a long letter to the governor, Sir Thomas Dale,
+asking his advice. Sir Thomas readily consented to the marriage.
+Pocahontas, on her part, told her brother of her attachment to Mr.
+Rolfe. He informed Powhatan, who seemed to have been well pleased with
+the proposition, for within ten days an old uncle of Pocahontas and
+two of her brothers arrived at Jamestown. Powhatan had sent them as
+deputies to witness the marriage of his daughter, and to do his part
+toward the confirmation of it.
+
+Pocahontas was first baptised. It was deemed necessary to give her a
+Christian name at her baptism. She was christened Rebecca, and as a
+king's daughter she was known after this as the Lady Rebecca, and
+sometimes as the Lady Pocahontas.
+
+In April, 1614, the odd bridal procession moved up the little church
+with its wide-open windows and its cedar pews. The bridegroom was a
+young Englishman, the bride an Indian chief's daughter, accompanied by
+two red-skinned warriors, her brothers. Before the altar with its
+canoe-like front Pocahontas repeated in imperfect English her marriage
+vows, and received her wedding ring. The wedding is briefly mentioned
+by the old recorders only as something bearing upon the welfare of the
+colony. It was the first union between the people who were to possess
+the land and the natives. The colonists doubtless regarded it as a
+most auspicious event, binding as it did the most powerful chief in
+Virginia to their interests.
+
+From this day friendly intercourse and trade were again established
+with Powhatan and his people. To the day of his death the old chief
+never violated the peace which was thus brought about.
+
+In still another way the marriage of Pocahontas benefited the colony.
+The nearest neighbours of the English were the Chickahominys, a
+powerful tribe of Indians who were just now free from the yoke of
+Powhatan, whom they regarded as a tyrant. They had taken advantage of
+the recent differences between this chief and the colonists to hold
+themselves exceedingly independent of both. But now that Powhatan and
+the English were united, the Chickahominys began to fear for their own
+liberty. They sent a deputation to Sir Thomas Dale desiring peace.
+Dale visited them, entered their council, and concluded a treaty
+stipulating that the Chickahominy Indians should call themselves
+Tassantessus, or Englishmen, as a sign of friendship, and fulfil other
+conditions.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Thomas Dale had been five years in Virginia when in 1616 he
+settled the affairs of the colony, and embarked for England. He took
+with him Mr. Rolfe, Pocahontas, Tomocomo, one of Powhatan's chief men,
+married to his daughter, Matachanna, and other Indians. Tomocomo, who
+was considered among the Indians "an understanding fellow," had been
+charged by Powhatan to count the people in England and give him an
+exact idea of their strength.
+
+The vessel reached Plymouth on the 12th of June, 1616. On leaving the
+vessel Tomocomo was prepared with a long stick and a knife ready to
+make a notch for every man he saw. He kept this up till "his
+arithmetic failed him." We can imagine the excitement that followed
+these travellers everywhere. They were all wonders, but especially was
+the "Princess" Pocahontas.
+
+Pocahontas was now mother to a little son, Thomas Rolfe, whom she
+"loved most dearly." Immediately on her arrival the Virginia Company
+took measures for the maintenance of her and her child. Persons of
+great "rank and quality" took much notice of Pocahontas. She did not
+like the smoke of London, and was removed to Brentford.
+
+Captain Smith was at this time between two voyages and his stay in
+London was limited. He met Tomocomo, and they renewed old
+acquaintance.
+
+"Captain Smith," said the Indian, "Powhatan did bid me find you out,
+to show me your God, and the king and queen and prince you so much had
+told us of."
+
+"Concerning God," says Smith, in writing of this meeting, "I told him
+the best I could, the king I heard he had seen, and the rest he should
+see when he would." Tomocomo, however, denied having seen King James
+till Smith satisfied him that he had by the circumstances. Tomocomo
+immediately looked very melancholy and said:
+
+"You gave Powhatan a white dog, which Powhatan fed as himself, but
+your king gave me nothing, and I am better than your white dog."
+
+Captain Smith, desiring to return the courtesy of Pocahontas, wrote
+the following letter to Queen Anne immediately upon hearing of the
+arrival of Pocahontas:
+
+    _To the most high and virtuous Princess, Queen Anne of
+      Great Britain_
+
+    MOST ADMIRED QUEEN: The love I bear my God, my king, and country
+    hath so oft emboldened me in the worst of extreme dangers, that
+    now honesty doth constrain me to presume thus far beyond myself
+    to present Your Majesty this short discourse. If ingratitude be
+    a deadly poison to all honest virtues, I must be guilty of that
+    crime if I should omit any means to be thankful.
+
+    So it is that some ten years ago, being in Virginia, and taken
+    prisoner by the power of Powhatan, their chief king, I received
+    from this great savage exceeding great courtesy, especially from
+    his son Nantequas, the most manliest, comeliest, boldest spirit
+    I ever saw in a savage, and his sister Pocahontas, the king's
+    most dear and well-beloved daughter, being but a child of twelve
+    or thirteen years of age, whose compassionate, pitiful heart, of
+    desperate estate, gave me much cause to respect her. I being the
+    first Christian this proud king and his grim attendants ever
+    saw, and thus enthralled in their barbarous power, I cannot say
+    that I felt the least occasion of want that was in the power of
+    those mortal foes to prevent, notwithstanding all their threats.
+
+    After some six weeks fatting among these savage courtiers, at
+    the minute of my execution she hazarded the beating out of her
+    own brains to save mine; and not only that, but so prevailed
+    with her father that I was safely conducted to Jamestown, where
+    I found about eight-and-thirty miserable, poor and sick
+    creatures to keep possession of all those large territories of
+    Virginia. Such was the weakness of this poor commonwealth as,
+    had the savages not fed us, we directly had starved.
+
+    And this relief, most gracious queen, was commonly brought us by
+    this lady, Pocahontas. Notwithstanding all these passages when
+    inconstant fortune turned our peace to war, this tender virgin
+    would still not spare to dare to visit us; and by her our jars
+    have oft been appeased and our wants still supplied. Were it the
+    policy of her father thus to employ her, or the ordinance of God
+    thus to make her his instrument, or her extraordinary affection
+    to our nation, I know not. But of this I am sure, when her
+    father, with the utmost of his policy and power sought to
+    surprise me, the dark night could not affright her from coming
+    through the irksome woods, and with watered eyes gave me
+    intelligence, with her best advice to escape his fury; which had
+    he known he had surely slain her. Jamestown, with her wild
+    train, she as freely frequented as her father's habitation; and,
+    during the time of two or three years, she, next, under God, was
+    still the instrument to preserve this colony from death, famine,
+    and utter confusion, which if in those times had once been
+    dissolved, Virginia might have lain as it was at our first
+    arrival to this day.
+
+    Since then this business having been turned and varied by many
+    accidents from that I left it at. It is most certain after a
+    long and troublesome war after my departure, betwixt her father
+    and our colony, all which time she was not heard of, about two
+    years after she herself was taken prisoner. Being so detained
+    near two years longer, the colony by that means was relieved,
+    peace concluded, and at last, rejecting her barbarous condition,
+    she was married to an English gentleman, with whom at present
+    she is in England; the first Christian ever of that nation, the
+    first Virginian ever spoke English: a matter surely, if my
+    meaning be truly considered and well understood, worthy a
+    prince's understanding.
+
+    Thus, most gracious lady, I have related to Your Majesty what at
+    your best leisure our approved histories will account you at
+    large, and done in the time of Your Majesty's life. And,
+    however, this might be presented to you from a more worthy pen,
+    it cannot come from a more honest heart, as yet I never begged
+    anything of the State or any; and it is my want of ability and
+    her exceeding desert, your birth, means and authority, her
+    birth, virtue, want and simplicity, doth make me thus bold
+    humbly to beseech your majesty to take this knowledge of her,
+    though it be from one so unworthy to be the reporter as myself,
+    her husband's estate not being able to make her fit to attend
+    your majesty. The most and least I can do is to tell you this,
+    because none hath so oft tried it as myself; and the rather
+    being of so great a spirit, however her stature. If she should
+    not be well received, seeing this kingdom may rightly have a
+    kingdom by her means, her present love to us and Christianity
+    might turn to such scorn and fury as to divert all this good to
+    the worst of evil; where, finding so great a queen should do her
+    some honour more than she can imagine, for being so kind to your
+    servants and subjects, would so ravish her with content, as
+    endear her dearest blood to effect that Your Majesty and all the
+    king's honest subjects most earnestly desire. And so I humbly
+    kiss your gracious hands.
+
+Captain Smith went to Brentford with several others to see Pocahontas.
+She saluted him modestly, and without a word turned round and
+"obscured her face as not seeming well contented." Smith, with her
+husband and the other gentlemen, left her "in that humour" for several
+hours. The captain was disappointed, and repented having written the
+queen that she could speak English. But when the gentlemen returned
+Pocahontas began to talk, and said that she remembered Captain Smith
+well, "and the courtesies she had done."
+
+"You did promise Powhatan," said Pocahontas, "what was yours should be
+his, and he the like to you. You called him father, being in his land
+a stranger, and by the same reason so must I do to you."
+
+Captain Smith tried to excuse himself from this honour. He "durst not
+allow that title because she was a king's daughter."
+
+"Were you not afraid," said Pocahontas, with a look of determination,
+"were you not afraid to come into my father's country, and caused fear
+in him and all his people but me, and fear you here I should call you
+father? I tell you then I will, and you shall call me child, and so I
+will be forever and ever your countryman. They did tell us always you
+were dead, and I knew no other until I came to Plymouth; yet Powhatan
+did command Tomocomo to seek you and know the truth, because your
+countrymen will lie much."
+
+Pocahontas had really felt a warm affection for Smith as a friend of
+her childhood.
+
+Pocahontas, it is said, had been so well instructed that she "was
+become very formal and civil after our English manner." During his
+brief stay in London Captain Smith made frequent visits to Pocahontas,
+accompanied by courtiers and other friends who wished to see the
+Indian lady. The gentlemen, said Smith, "generally concluded they did
+not think God had a great hand in her conversion," and said that they
+had seen "many English ladies worse favoured, proportioned, and
+behavioured."
+
+While Pocahontas was in England her portrait was drawn and engraved.
+She is represented in the fashionable costume of the day. Beneath the
+picture were these words:
+
+    Matoaks als Rebecka, daughter to the mighty Prince Powhatan,
+    Emperor of Attanough-kornouck als Virginia, converted and
+    baptised in the Christian faith, and wife to the worshipful Mr.
+    John Rolfe. Aged 21. Anno Domini 1616.
+
+Pocahontas was destined never to return to America. She died at
+Gravesend on the eve of her departure for America, being about
+twenty-two years of age. The few words devoted in Smith's History to
+her death are quite characteristic of the times:
+
+    It pleased God at Gravesend to take this young lady to His
+    mercy, where she made not more sorrow for her unexpected death
+    than joy to the beholders to hear and see her make so religious
+    and godly an end.
+
+In the parish register at Gravesend is the following blundering entry,
+which could hardly have referred to any other than Pocahontas:
+
+      1616, May 2j, Rebecca Wrothe
+      wyff of Thomas Wroth gent.
+  a Virginian lady borne, here was buried
+            in ye channcell.
+
+The child of Pocahontas was left in England in the care of Sir Lewis
+Stewkley, and afterwards transferred to the care of his uncle, Mr.
+Henry Rolfe, a London merchant. He was educated in England and
+afterwards returned to America. From him descended some of the most
+respectable families in Virginia. There is on record a petition signed
+by Pocahontas's son, Thomas Rolfe, and addressed to the authorities of
+the colony in 1641, praying to be allowed to go to the Indian country
+to visit his mother's sister, known among the white people as
+Cleopatra.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+FLORA MACDONALD
+
+
+In the year 1745 Charles Edward, commonly called the "Young Pretender"
+to the throne of England and Scotland, landed in Scotland and raised
+the standard of revolt. He was followed by many of the Highland clans
+and also by certain of the Lowland. At the head of five thousand men
+he advanced into England, but he was forced to retreat, and after the
+battle of Culloden became a fugitive from the pursuing English.
+
+At last he found himself in the Islands of the Hebrides off the
+northwest coast of Scotland where he hoped to escape the vessels of
+war in search of him, and soldiers close upon his tracks, and to find
+a ship upon which he might sail to France. When, about the middle of
+May, 1846, he reached the Island of South Uist, he and the two friends
+who clung to him, found themselves in a most miserable condition. They
+had lived for several days on dried fish and for still longer subject
+to inclemencies of weather. In South Uist they sought shelter of a
+friendly chief.
+
+It required all the hospitable care of the Macdonald of Clanronald,
+who lived at a place called Ormaclade, to recruit and restore his
+visitors. A hut, built in a desolate spot among the neighbouring
+mountains was prepared for the royal adventurer where he awaited,
+under the friendly care, not only of the island's chief, but of every
+member of the chieftaincy, means of escape.
+
+When Charles made his appearance at the house of Clanronald, he was in
+tattered clothing and almost barefoot. Supplied with every necessary,
+though condemned to the shelter of a miserable shed, and fearing to
+stir beyond this humble abode, he yet recovered in a degree, his
+energies, and was strengthened enough to hear that there was no
+prospect of escape to France. In less time than he had realised, he
+beheld himself completely hemmed in by sea and land. Several ships of
+war guarded the coast, and a host of soldiers scoured every probable
+retreat where the object of their search could be concealed.
+
+In this strait, the islanders, untutored and primitive as they were,
+vied with each other in giving assistance to their chieftain to
+preserve his guest's life. Although his retreat was perfectly well
+known to nearly every inhabitant of the island, neither man, woman nor
+child ever lisped the secret.
+
+It chanced at this time that Flora, sister to the Macdonald of Milton,
+who also lived on the island, was upon a visit to her brother, and
+learned of the peril of the royal fugitive. When visiting her
+relatives at Ormaclade, this young lady, then in her twenty-fifth
+year, and possessed of a heroic spirit, became much interested in the
+visits of one of Charles's friends, O'Neil, to procure necessaries for
+the prince, and, before long, earnestly expressed her desire to be
+introduced to him, and to contribute to his escape. It seems that
+O'Neil had previously met Flora, and, from the estimate he had formed
+of her capacity, led Charles's mind to dwell greatly upon engaging her
+assistance to rescue him from danger.
+
+The stepfather of Miss Macdonald was, at that time, employed as
+commander of the very body of soldiers engaged in the pursuit. He was
+obliged to act in obedience to the chief of his clan, the laird of
+Sleat, which is the southern part of the island of Skye; but he
+secretly endeavoured to assist the fugitive, and was only too happy to
+afford silent consent to any plan which might be originated for his
+deliverance.
+
+It was a beautiful June evening when Flora's wish to see the Prince
+was carried out. O'Neil joined her at the house of one of her
+brother's retainers, leaving his companion concealed, until he should
+engage Flora to consent to the plan he had in view. He proposed that
+she should disguise Charles as a female servant; and under pretext of
+travelling with her maid, conduct him in safety from Uist to the Isle
+of Skye; whence further measures could be taken to effect his escape.
+
+This was a proposition that Flora's delicacy, as well as innate
+prudence, shrank from entertaining. She hesitated, avowing her
+distrust in the wildness of the scheme, and her fear of compromising
+her friends, Sir Alexander and Lady Margaret Macdonald, by taking the
+fugitive into their neighbourhood. O'Neil, however, with Irish tact,
+so worked upon the young lady's feelings, by leading forth his hapless
+Prince just at the right moment, that poor Flora's resolutions melted
+away before the sight of a figure so attenuated, and a countenance so
+filled by grief and despair, as those now presented to her gaze. She
+consented, after a brief interval.
+
+When Flora first saw Charles all the brilliancy and promise of his
+first arrival had passed away, together with the charm of attractive
+exterior. Weeks of anxiety had taken the colour from his cheek and
+fire from his eye. Lack of food had made him emaciated. He was no
+longer the bold aspirant for the throne of the Stuarts. He was the
+defeated, hunted scion of the ex-royal family, with a price upon his
+head.
+
+Upon leaving the Prince, Miss Macdonald and her servant were seized by
+a band of militia; but difficulty was happily set aside by our
+heroine's discovery that the band was commanded by her stepfather.
+With little trouble she engaged his assistance, and obtained from him
+a pass for herself and her man-servant, Neil Mackechan, back to the
+Island of Skye, where her mother lived. Mention was also made in the
+passport, of a third person, an Irish domestic, named "Betty Burke,"
+who was especially recommended by Captain Macdonald to his wife, as an
+"excellent spinner of flax, and a faithful servant." After getting
+this document, Flora's next care was to secure a boat, with a crew of
+six men, a supply of provisions, and last, but most important of all,
+the disguise intended to transform the elegant Prince Charles into a
+rough Irish maid-of-all-work, and which consisted of a printed linen
+gown, a white apron and head gear.
+
+The morning of the 27th of June was chosen for their departure, and,
+accompanied by Lady Clanronald, Miss Macdonald set out towards the
+seashore. They found the Prince roasting the liver of a sheep for his
+dinner, a sight which brought the reverses of fortune forcibly to
+their minds, and moved one of his gentle visitors to tears. That night
+an alarm, which drew the ladies back to the house, prevented the boat
+from starting; but the next evening, all being in readiness, the
+Prince assumed his linen gown and apron and, exchanging his sword for
+a good-sized walking-stick, embarked with his fair ally, her servant
+Mackechan, and six boatmen, for Skye.
+
+It was not one of pleasure, this voyage, to a young and delicate
+woman, considering the number of vessels lying all around, whose shots
+it would probably be difficult to avoid if suspicion were excited; the
+distance to be covered, thirty or forty miles, and the time, night.
+Soon rain began to fall; the skies and sea faded into one leaden
+expanse; the boatmen, wet and sulky, relapsed into perfect silence.
+The voice of the young Prince alone broke the stillness; and he, with
+a mixture of boyish vivacity and manly tact, told story after story,
+and sang snatches of song until he succeeded in dispelling the cloud
+of anxiety which oppressed his companion, less fearful for her own
+than for his safety. At length, overpowered by fatigue, Flora slept.
+Charles continued a long while singing, in the hope of lulling her to
+repose; and when, some time after, she awoke, she found him watching
+her with the greatest solicitude, endeavouring to screen her from the
+spray, and to protect her from contact with the sails and cordage.
+
+It must have been an unspeakable relief to the occupants of that
+little boat when the first dim lines of light in the distant horizon
+announced the approach of morning. When clear enough to distinguish
+objects, they discovered that they were alone upon the ocean--no land
+in sight; but this gave little anxiety to the sailors, and after a
+short interval, during which the wind favoured their passage, the
+rocky coast of the mountainous Island of Skye appeared. As they were
+passing a headland called Vaternish, a party of the Macleod militia,
+espied them, and fired several shots. Happily, however, the tide was
+out, and before a boat would be got into deep water, pursuit was
+hopeless.
+
+"Don't mind the villains, but pull for your lives," cried the Prince,
+and the boatmen, animated by his address and courage, replied cheerily
+that they would soon distance their assailants; adding, that if they
+cared at all, it was only for him.
+
+"Oh, there's no fear for me!" was the response, while the Prince
+busied himself in taking care of Flora, whom he had persuaded to take
+shelter in the bottom of the boat, a retreat which, to satisfy her
+fears, he himself adopted shortly after.
+
+A few miles further, the boat was put into a creek, for the purpose of
+affording a little rest to the rowers, by this time greatly fatigued.
+They were soon, however, obliged to put off again, in consequence of
+being watched from the shore and, proceeding about twelve miles from
+Vaternish, they reached in safety, Mugstat, the residence of Sir
+Alexander Macdonald, formerly a staunch Jacobite, or follower of the
+Stuarts, though now in actual attendance upon the Duke of Cumberland
+at Fort Augustus.
+
+When the boat containing the fugitive Prince had landed, Flora,
+attended by Mackechan, proceeded to the house, leaving Charles, in his
+female dress, sitting on her trunk on the beach. On arriving at the
+dwelling, she desired a servant to inform Lady Margaret that she had
+called on her way home from Uist. She was immediately introduced to
+the family apartment, where she found, besides Mrs. Macdonald of
+Kirkibost, a Lieutenant Macleod, the commander of militia stationed
+near, three or four members of which were also in the house. There was
+also present, Mr. Alexander Macdonald of Kingsburgh, an elderly
+gentleman of the neighbourhood, who acted as factor to Sir Alexander,
+and who was, she knew, a sound Jacobite.
+
+Flora entered easily into conversation with the officer, who asked her
+a number of questions; where she had come from, where she was going,
+and so forth; all of which she answered without manifesting the least
+trace of confusion which might have been expected from a young lady
+under such circumstances. The same man had been in the custom of
+examining every boat which landed from Long Island; that, for
+instance, in which Mrs. Macdonald of Kirkibost arrived had been so
+examined, and we can only account for his allowing that of Miss Flora
+to pass by the circumstance of his meeting her under the courtesies of
+the drawing-room of a lady.
+
+Miss Macdonald, with the same self-possession, dined in Lieutenant
+Macleod's company. Seizing a proper opportunity, she apprised
+Kingsburgh of the circumstances of the Prince, and he immediately
+proceeded to another room, and sent for Lady Margaret, that he might
+break the intelligence to her in private. Notwithstanding the previous
+warning, she was much alarmed at the idea of the wanderer being so
+near her house, and immediately sent for a certain Donald Roy
+Macdonald, to consult as to what should be done. Donald had been
+wounded in the Prince's army at Culloden, and was as obnoxious to the
+Government as he could be. He came and joined the lady and her friends
+in the garden, when it was arranged that Kingsburgh should take the
+Prince along with him to his own house, some miles distant, and thence
+pass him through the island to Portree, where Donald Roy should take
+him up, and provide for his further safety.
+
+No time was lost in dispatching Kingsburgh to communicate these
+arrangements to the Prince, and to carry him some refreshment. The
+poor refugee, seeing some one approaching him, started up, and
+discovering the heavy stick he carried, put himself in an attitude of
+defiance.
+
+"I am Macdonald of Kingsburgh, come to serve Your Highness," said the
+old man; and he proceeded to explain how this might be effected.
+
+While these two set off toward Kingsburgh, Miss Macdonald quietly
+seated with Lady Margaret and the officer before named, endeavoured to
+secure to them a good start upon their journey. Presently she bade
+farewell to her hostess, who pretended to be extremely averse to
+parting with her so soon, and invited her warmly to remain; reminding
+her that she had promised to pay her a lengthened visit. Flora excused
+herself, upon the plea that her mother was ill, and needed her
+presence at home. After dinner, therefore, she departed, leaving young
+Macleod quite unsuspicious of the real nature of her visit to Mugstat.
+In after years Flora often rallied this gentleman upon having so
+completely deceived him.
+
+Mrs. Macdonald of Kirkibost, her servants, and Mackechan, accompanied
+Flora, whose object was to come up with the pedestrians and, joining
+them, to proceed all together to Kingsburgh. They soon appeared in
+sight; but as the servants of her companion were unacquainted with the
+secret, it was necessary to put them off the scent by passing the
+travellers, as if unknown to them, at a trot. Charles is represented
+as being very awkward in his feminine attire: Kingsburgh laughed and
+said to him.
+
+"Your enemies call you a Pretender; but if you be, I can tell you, you
+are the worst at the trade I ever saw."
+
+He held up his petticoats in a very undignified manner; and when
+remonstrated with, improved upon matters by permitting the skirts of
+his dress to draggle in the water, when a brook again had to be
+passed. His height was so remarkable, and his strides so immense, that
+the maid-servant at Flora's side exclaimed to her:
+
+"That must be an Irishwoman, or else a man in woman's clothes; see
+what steps the creature takes!"
+
+Flora replied that she was doubtless an Irishwoman. Shortly after they
+parted company, and Flora rejoined the travellers, who had been
+somewhat annoyed on their side by the inquiries and remarks as to the
+uncommon height of the pretended Betty Burke. About eleven o'clock at
+night, the little party arrived in safety at Kingsburgh House, where
+Mrs. Macdonald received them.
+
+Supper followed, Charles, still in gown and coif, presiding, with his
+hostess on his left hand, and Flora in the place of honour. After
+supper the ladies withdrew to discuss past perils and future plans.
+
+"And what," said Lady Kingsburgh, "has been done with the boatmen who
+brought you to the island?"
+
+"They have been sent back to South Uist," replied the young lady.
+
+"That was an oversight. These men ought to have been detained a short
+time. I fear that if they meet with Government officers, they may
+incautiously, or for money, betray our poor wanderer's retreat."
+
+Lady Kingsburgh's surmise, which had even at that early period proved
+correct, seemed so alarming, that Flora decided upon persuading the
+Prince to assume, as soon at possible, the dress of his own sex.
+
+The hunted Prince had now been several days without taking off his
+clothes or enjoying the luxury of a bed. He was only too happy to
+retire to the one provided for him, and it was now far into the night.
+He slept until late the following morning, so late, indeed, that Miss
+Macdonald went into Kingsburgh's room, and urged him to rouse the
+Prince, and depart with him, lest a party of militia should arrive,
+and make it impossible to leave the house.
+
+Kingsburgh, however, would by no means consent to disturb the weary
+outcast he had so generously sheltered. "Let the poor boy sleep after
+his fatigues," he said. "As for me, I care little if they rake off
+this old gray head, ten or eleven years sooner than I should die in
+the course of nature." Saying these words, he turned again to his
+pillow, and was asleep in a moment.
+
+Toward afternoon the party again set forward, but previously
+Kingsburgh had provided the Prince with a new pair of shoes, his own
+being completely worn out. "Look," said this enthusiastic Jacobite,
+holding up the old ones, "I shall faithfully keep these shoes until
+you are comfortably settled at St. James. I will then introduce myself
+by shaking them at you, and thus put you in mind of your night's
+entertainment and protection under this roof."
+
+"Be as good as your word, my friend," replied the Prince: "whenever
+that time arrives I shall expect to see you."
+
+It was judged better that, as Flora had come with a female servant,
+she should take one away with her; so Charles waited to alter his
+dress until they reached a little wood upon the road to Portree, when
+he again assumed his male attire, exchanging his petticoat and apron
+for a tartan coat and waistcoat, a philibeg and short hose, plaid and
+bonnet. Kingsburgh here bade adieu to the Prince, who, with Mackeckan,
+was to walk a distance of fourteen miles to Portree, while to avoid
+suspicion, Flora proceeded thither by another road. Arriving at
+Portree, Flora detained him no longer than to bid him an earnest,
+though agitated, farewell. Charles thanked her, in the most animated
+terms, for all the heroism she had shown in his cause.
+
+"Ah! madam," he said, with emotion, "for all that has happened, I hope
+we shall meet in St. James's yet."
+
+This was the last time Charles ever saw his generous protectress. They
+hurried him away to the vessel, while Flora, with a heavy heart,
+turned her steps toward the house of her mother at Sleat. She had
+effected all in her power, she had used her best exertions to secure
+the safety of this, the last unfortunate scion of the old Stuart line,
+and to Heaven she commended the rest. What vicissitudes the wretched
+Charles encountered, how he lay, pinched with hunger, and failing in
+health, in cowsheds, in caves and among bushes and underwood until,
+three months after, he was able to embark from Lochnanuagh, the very
+spot where he had landed, and to effect his escape to France, is well
+known in history. It is probable that, after the part she had taken,
+after the dangers she had boldly confronted in the endeavour to secure
+his escape, Flora Macdonald's thoughts were with the fugitive
+constantly; nor is it to be supposed she ever enjoyed a moment of
+actual peace of mind until the news of his safe arrival in Brittany
+reached her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Flora Macdonald, after quitting the Prince, proceeded to the house of
+her mother. Upon her arrival, she checked the confidence which she
+would otherwise have gladly made, relative to her late employment,
+fearing to involve others in the danger she herself had incurred. She
+considered it better, if inquiries were made, that they should be able
+to declare nothing had been known to them of the Prince's escape. That
+such inquiries would arise, Flora felt assured; and the result proved
+how correct was her anticipation. It was only a day or two before she
+heard that the boatmen, on reaching the island whence they had
+conveyed the fugitives, had been intimidated into revealing the place
+where they had left her. A Captain Ferguson, a Government emissary,
+obtaining the description of "Betty Burke's" appearance, sailed at
+once for Skye, and finding no "tall female" had been seen there with
+Miss Macdonald, followed upon the latter's track to Kingsburgh, where
+he soon discovered from the servants, that the supposed Irish domestic
+had reappeared, and been accommodated with the best bedchamber in the
+house. The good old Kingsburgh refusing to give further information,
+was laid in durance, and threatened with no punishment short of death;
+while the attendance of Miss Macdonald was commanded without loss of
+time. In opposition to the advice of her family, Flora wisely
+determined to obey the summons. On her way she met her stepfather, but
+was almost immediately after seized by a party of soldiers, and taken
+to the vessel of the Captain Ferguson named above. Meeting on board
+General Campbell, she frankly confessed to him the truth of the
+statement made by her boatmen, and quietly resigned herself prisoner.
+
+It will be remembered that Charles's friend, and ardent admirer--his
+only follower, indeed, at that time--was Captain O'Neil, the one who
+had first, from some slight acquaintance with Flora, suggested her
+aid, and, succeeded in gaining it. On board the ship to which, after
+twenty-two days Flora was sent, she found this generous and lively
+young Irishman also a prisoner, and going straight up to him, she
+tapped him gently with her hand, and said laughingly, "To that black
+countenance, it seems, I am to owe all my misfortunes." He replied
+earnestly: "Ah! do not regard as a misfortune what is the brightest
+honour; only go on as you have begun; neither repent nor be ashamed of
+what will yet redound to your greatest praise and advantage." This
+exhortation must have been needless to one of our heroine's
+temperament.
+
+Owing to the courtesy of those in authority, Flora experienced as well
+in the ship of Commodore Smith as on board the _Bridgewater_, her next
+prison, the greatest kindness and indulgence. She was permitted to
+land and bid her mother farewell, to engage a Scotch attendant, the
+only girl who could be induced to accompany her, and to secure a
+portion of her wardrobe, she having been some time deprived of a
+change of clothing. On arriving at Leith she remained nearly two
+months in harbour, and was allowed to receive visitors on board,
+though she was not allowed to leave the ship. The simple-minded
+country maiden suddenly discovered that she had been transformed into
+a heroine. The fame of her courage had gone far and wide; everybody
+was anxious to see her. Many brought presents, and one a Bible and
+Prayer Book, together with sewing materials, which she joyfully
+received. It is related that Lady Mary Cochrane paid her a visit, and
+upon the wind freshening a little, pretended fear of returning to
+shore, in order that she might, as she said, be able to say she had
+spent the night with Miss Flora Macdonald.
+
+Arrived in London, Miss Macdonald was placed in the house of a
+gentleman, where she could scarcely be said to be put under restraint
+of any disagreeable nature. Here she remained for several months, and
+upon the passing of the Act of Indemnity, in July of the year, 1747,
+was set at liberty without the ceremony of a trial. Public opinion was
+wholly in her favour, and many in power, Frederick, Prince of Wales,
+father of George III, among the number, made no secret of their
+approbation of her conduct under the affecting circumstances in which
+the unhappy Charles Edward had sought her aid.
+
+Shortly after her return home, on November 6, 1750, she was married to
+young Macdonald, the son of the generous Kingsburgh, and became the
+mother of five sons, more or less remarkable for the courage and
+intrepidity ennobling their ancestry on both sides.
+
+When Dr. Johnson went with Boswell to the Hebrides, in the year 1773,
+he was warmly received by the husband of Flora, then himself possessor
+of the family mansion in which Charles Edward had been successfully
+hidden. "Kingsburgh," says Boswell, in his account of the great
+moralist's tour, "is completely the figure of a gallant Highlander,
+exhibiting the graceful mien and manly looks which our popular Scotch
+song has justly attributed to that character. He had jet black hair
+which was tied behind, and was a large, stately man, with a steady,
+sensible countenance." Flora herself he describes as a woman of middle
+stature, soft features, gentle manners, and elegant presence. She was,
+at this time, fifty-three years old. Lady Kingsburgh spelled her name
+not "Flora," but "Flory" Macdonald.
+
+The year following this visit of the doctor, the Kingsburghs emigrated
+to North Carolina, in the hope of effecting a comfortable settlement
+in America. Their journey was not a fortunate one. The husband of
+Flora, who appears to have been as brave as ever in the cause he
+embraced, joining the 84th Royal Highland Emigrant Regiment, was
+imprisoned by the provincial force; but he was soon set at liberty,
+and he then joined the North Carolina Highlanders, serving in Canada.
+Upon the conclusion of the war he returned to Scotland, probably
+wearied of the incessant harass he had experienced in the New World,
+and yearning for a sight of his native land. During their homeward
+voyage the ship was attacked by a French privateer. It would scarcely
+be in character to suppose our heroine a silent or impassive spectator
+of the combat. While standing on deck near her husband, and boldly
+animating the sailors by spirited words and gestures, which even in
+her old age seemed to have lost nothing of their power, she was thrown
+down with such violence that the shock broke her arm. In allusion to
+this accident and the circumstances of it, she is said to have
+remarked with great coolness, that "she had now suffered a little for
+both the houses of Stuart and Hanover."
+
+After her return to Skye, Flora never again left it. She lived to be
+quite an old woman, and her body was followed to the grave by about
+three thousand persons, friends and retainers, amongst whom many had
+been recipients of her bounty, and most were capable of estimating the
+fine qualities of heart and mind which rendered her death a public
+loss. Besides her sons, all of them officers in the army or navy,
+Flora Macdonald had two daughters, who were married to gentlemen
+following the same profession as their brothers. One of the sons,
+anxious to perpetuate the remembrance of the spot where so heroic and
+devoted a mortal was buried, sent a marble tablet, commemorative of
+his mother, to be placed upon her tomb in the churchyard of Kilmuir;
+but this having been broken by accident, tourists took the opportunity
+to carry off pieces and, at the present time the grave of Flora
+Macdonald remains undistinguished within the rude inclosure that holds
+the dust of so many of the brave Kingsburgh family.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+MADAME ROLAND
+
+
+In the year 1754 there was living in an obscure workshop in Paris, an
+engraver by the name of Gratien Phlippon. He had married a very
+beautiful woman, whose placid temperament and cheerful content
+contrasted strikingly with the restlessness of her husband. The
+comfortable yet humble apartments of the engraver were over the shop
+where he plied his daily toil. He was much dissatisfied with his lowly
+condition in life, and that his family, in the enjoyment of frugal
+competence alone, were debarred from those luxuries which were
+profusely showered upon others. Bitterly and unceasingly he murmured
+that his lot had been cast in the ranks of obscurity and of unsparing
+labour, while others, by a more fortunate, although no better merited
+destiny, were born to ease and affluence, and honour and luxury.
+Phlippon was a philosopher. Submission was a virtue he had never
+learned, and never wished to learn.
+
+Madame Phlippon was just the reverse of her husband. She was a woman
+in whom faith, and trust, and submission predominated. She surrendered
+her will, without questioning, to all the teachings of the Church. She
+was placid, contented and cheerful, and undoubtedly sincere in her
+piety. In every event of life she recognised the overruling hand of
+Providence, and feeling that the comparatively humble lot assigned
+her was in accordance with the will of God, she indulged in no
+repinings.
+
+Of eight children born to these parents, one only, Jeanne Manon, or
+Jane Mary, survived the hour of birth. Her father first received her
+to his arms in 1754, and she became the object of his painful and most
+passionate adoration. Both parents lived in her and for her. She was
+their earthly all. Even in her infantile years she gave indication of
+a most brilliant intellect--and her father repined that she should be
+doomed to a life of obscurity and toil, while the garden of the
+Tuileries and the Elysian Fields were thronged with children, neither
+so beautiful nor so intelligent, who were reveling in boundless
+wealth, and living in a world of luxury and splendour which, to
+Phlippon's imagination, seemed more alluring than any idea he could
+form of heaven.
+
+By nature Jane was endowed with a soul of unusual delicacy. From early
+childhood, all that is beautiful or sublime in nature, in literature,
+in character, had charms to rivet her entranced attention. She loved
+to sit alone at her chamber window in the evening of a summer's day,
+to gaze upon the gorgeous hues of sunset. Books of poetry and
+descriptions of heroic character and achievements were her especial
+delight. "Plutarch's Lives," that book which, more than any other,
+appears to be the incentive of early genius, was hid beneath her
+pillow, and read and re-read. Those illustrious heroes of antiquity
+became the companions of her solitude and of her hourly thoughts. She
+adored them and loved them as her own most intimate personal friends.
+Her character became insensibly moulded to their forms, and she was
+inspired with restless enthusiasm to imitate their deeds. When but
+twelve years of age her father found her, one day, weeping that she
+was not born a Roman maiden.
+
+It was, perhaps, the absence of playmates, and the habitual converse
+with mature minds which, at so early an age, inspired Jane with that
+insatiate thirst for knowledge which she ever manifested. Books were
+her only resource in every unoccupied hour. From her walks with her
+father, and her domestic employments with her mother, she turned to
+her little library and to her chamber window, and lost herself in the
+limitless realms of thought.
+
+In a bright summer's afternoon she might be seen sauntering along the
+boulevards, led by her father's hand, gazing upon that scene of gaiety
+with which the eye is never wearied. A gilded coach, drawn by the most
+beautiful horses in the richest trappings, sweeps along the streets--a
+gorgeous vision. Phlippon takes his little daughter in his arms to
+show her the sight, and, as she gazes in infantile wonder and delight,
+the discontented father says:
+
+"Look at that lord and lady, and child, lolling so voluptuously in
+their coach. They have no right there. Why must I and my child walk on
+this hot pavement, while they repose on velvet cushions and revel in
+all luxury? A time will come when the people will awake to the
+consciousness of their wrongs, and their tyrants will tremble before
+them."
+
+He continues his walk in moody silence, brooding over his sense of
+injustice. They return to their home.
+
+Jane wishes that her father kept a carriage, and liveried servants and
+outriders. She thinks of politics, and of the tyranny of kings and
+nobles, and of the unjust inequalities of man. She retires to the
+solitude of her loved chamber window, and reads of Aristides the Just,
+of Themistocles with his Spartan virtues, of Brutus, and of the mother
+of the Gracchi. Greece and Rome rise before her in all their ancient
+renown. She despises the frivolity of Paris and her youthful bosom
+throbs with the desire of being noble in spirit and of achieving great
+exploits. Thus, when other children of her age were playing with their
+dolls, she was dreaming of the prostration of nobles and of the
+overthrow of thrones.
+
+The education of young ladies, at that time in France, was conducted
+almost exclusively by nuns in convents. The idea of the silence and
+solitude of the cloister inspired the highly imaginative girl. Her
+mother's spirit of religion was exerting a powerful influence over
+her, and one evening she fell at her mother's feet and, bursting into
+tears, besought that she might be sent to a convent to prepare to
+receive her first Christian communion in a suitable frame of mind.
+
+The convent of the sisterhood of the Congregation in Paris was
+selected for Jane. She subsequently wrote:
+
+    While pressing my dear mother in my arms, at the moment of
+    parting with her for the first time in my life, I thought my
+    heart would break; but I was acting in obedience to the voice of
+    God, and I passed the threshold of the cloister, tearfully
+    offering up to him the greatest sacrifice I was capable of
+    making. This was on the 7th of May, 1765, when I was eleven
+    years and two months old. The first night I spent in the convent
+    was a night of agitation. I was no longer under the paternal
+    roof. I was at a distance from that kind mother, who was
+    doubtless thinking of me with affectionate emotion. A dim light
+    diffused through the room in which I had been put to bed with
+    four children of my own age. I stole softly from my couch and
+    drew near the window, the light of the moon enabling me to
+    distinguish the garden, which it overlooked. The deepest silence
+    prevailed around, and I listened to it, if I may use the
+    expression, with a sort of respect. Lofty trees cast their
+    gigantic shadows along the ground, and promised a secure asylum
+    to meditation. I lifted up my eyes to the heavens; they were
+    unclouded and serene. I imagined that I felt the presence of the
+    Deity smiling upon my sacrifice, and already offering me a
+    reward in the hope of a celestial abode. Tears of delight flowed
+    down my cheeks. I repeated my vows with holy ecstasy, and went
+    to bed again to taste the slumber of God's chosen children.
+
+Two years after this she was taken to pass a week at the luxurious
+abodes of Maria Antoinette. Versailles was in itself a city of palaces
+and of courtiers, where all that could dazzle the eye in regal pomp
+and voluptuousness was concentred. Most girls of her age would have
+been enchanted and bewildered by this display. Jane was permitted to
+witness, and partially to share, all the pomp of luxuriously spread
+tables and presentations, and court balls, and illuminations and the
+gilded equipages of ambassadors and princes, but this maiden, just
+emerging from the period of childhood and the seclusion of the
+cloister, undazzled by all this brilliance, looked sadly on the scene.
+The servility of the courtiers excited her contempt. She contrasted
+the boundless profusion and extravagance which filled these palaces
+with the absence of comfort in the dwellings of the over-taxed poor,
+and pondered deeply the value of that despotism which starved the
+millions to pander to the dissolute indulgence of the few. Her
+personal pride was also severely stung by perceiving that her own
+attractions, mental and physical, were entirely overlooked by the
+crowds which were bowing before power. Disgusted with the frivolity of
+the living, she sought solace in companionship with the illustrious
+dead. She chose the gardens for her resort, and, lingered around the
+statues which embellished scenes of almost fairy enchantment.
+
+"How do you enjoy your visit, my daughter?" inquired her mother.
+
+"I shall be glad when it is ended," was the characteristic reply,
+"else, in a few more days, I shall so detest all the persons I see
+that I shall not know what to do with my hatred."
+
+"Why, what harm have these persons done you, my child?"
+
+"They make me feel injustice and look upon absurdity," replied this
+philosopher of thirteen.
+
+Soon after this Jane entered her fourteenth year and her mother,
+conscious of the importance to her child of a knowledge of domestic
+duties, took her to the market to obtain meat and vegetables, and
+occasionally placed upon her the responsibility of the family
+purchases. The unaffected dignity with which the imaginative girl
+yielded herself to these most prosaic avocations was such, that when
+she entered the market, the fruit women hastened to serve her. It is
+quite remarkable that Jane, apparently, never turned with repugnance
+from these humble avocations of domestic life. It speaks most highly
+in behalf of the sound judgment of her mother, that she was enabled
+thus successfully to allure her daughter from her realms of romance to
+those unattractive practical duties which our daily necessities
+demand. At one hour this ardent maiden might have been seen in her
+little chamber absorbed in studies of deepest research. The highest
+themes which can elevate the mind of man claimed her delighted
+reveries. The next hour she might be seen in the kitchen, under the
+guidance of her mother, receiving from her judicious lips lessons
+upon frugality, and industry, and economy. The white apron was bound
+around her waist, and her hands, which, but a few moments before, were
+busy with the circles of the celestial globe, were now occupied in
+preparing vegetables for dinner. There was thus united in the
+character of Jane the appreciation of all that is beautiful and
+sublime in the world of fact and the world of imagination, and also
+domestic skill and practical common sense. She was thus prepared to
+fascinate by the graces of a refined and polished mind, and to create
+for herself, in the midst of all vicissitudes, a region of loveliness
+in which her spirit could ever dwell; and, at the same time she
+possessed that sagacity and tact, and those habits of usefulness,
+which prepared her to meet calmly all the changes of fortune, and over
+them all to triumph. With that self-appreciation which with her was
+frankness rather than vanity she subsequently writes:
+
+    This mixture of serious studies, agreeable relaxations and
+    domestic cares, was rendered pleasant by my mother's good
+    management, and fitted me for everything. It seemed to forebode
+    the vicissitudes of future life, and enabled me to bear them. In
+    every place I am at home. I can prepare my own dinner with as
+    much address as Philopoemen cut wood; but no one seeing me thus
+    engaged would think it an office in which I ought to be
+    employed.
+
+As years passed on through the friendship of a family of noble rank,
+Jane was often introduced to the great world. The family became much
+interested in the fascinating young lady, and her brilliant talents
+and accomplishments secured her invitations to many social interviews.
+This slight acquaintance with the nobility of France did not, however,
+elevate them in her esteem. She found the conversation of the old
+marquises and antiquated dowagers who frequented the saloon of Madame
+De Boismorel more insipid and illiterate than that of the tradespeople
+who visited her father's shop, and upon whom these nobles looked down
+with contempt. Jane was also disgusted with the many indications she
+saw, not only of indolence, but of dissipation and utter want of
+principle. Her good sense enabled her to move among these people as a
+studious observer of human nature, neither adopting their costume nor
+imitating their manners. She was very unostentatious and simple in her
+dress, and never, in the slightest degree, affected the mannerism of
+mindless and artless fashion.
+
+Madame De Boismorel, at one time eulogising her taste in these
+respects, remarked:
+
+"You do not love feathers, do you, Miss Phlippon? How very different
+you are from the giddy-headed girls around us!"
+
+"I never wear feathers," Jane replied, "because I do not think that
+they would correspond with the condition in life of an artist's
+daughter who is going about on foot."
+
+"But were you in a different situation in life, would you then wear
+feathers?"
+
+"I do not know what I should do in that case. I attach very slight
+importance to such trifles. I merely consider what is suitable for
+myself, and should be very sorry to judge of others by the superficial
+information afforded by their dress."
+
+M. Phlippon now began to advance rapidly in a career of dissipation.
+Jane did everything in her power to lure him to love his home. All her
+efforts were unavailing. Her situation was now painful in the
+extreme. Her mother, who had been the guardian angel of her life, was
+sleeping in the grave. The father was daily becoming more neglectful
+and unkind to his daughter. Under these circumstances, Jane, by the
+advice of friends, had resort to a legal process, by which there was
+secured to her, from the wreck of her mother's fortune, an annual
+income of about one hundred dollars.
+
+In these gloomy hours which clouded the morning of her day, Jane found
+an unfailing resource and solace in her love of literature. With pen
+in hand, extracting beautiful passages and expanding suggested
+thoughts, she forgot her griefs and beguiled many hours, which would
+otherwise have been burdened with wretchedness.
+
+Maria Antoinette, woe-worn and weary, in tones of despair uttered the
+exclamation:
+
+"Oh! what a resource amid the casualties of life must there be in a
+highly cultivated mind."
+
+The maiden could utter the same exclamation in accents of joy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Jane was in the convent, she became acquainted with a young lady
+from Amiens, Sophia Cannet. They formed for each other a strong
+attachment and commenced a correspondence which continued for many
+years. There was a gentleman in Amiens by the name of Roland de la
+Platiere, born of an opulent family, and holding the quite important
+office of inspector of manufactures. His time was mainly occupied in
+travelling and study. Being deeply interested in all subjects relating
+to political economy, he had devoted much attention to that science,
+and had written several treatises upon commerce, mechanics and
+agriculture which had given him, in the literary and scientific
+world, no little celebrity. He frequently visited the father of
+Sophia. She often spoke to him of her friend Jane, showed him her
+portrait, and read to him extracts from her glowing letters. The calm
+philosopher became very much interested in the enthusiastic maiden,
+and entreated Sophia to give him a letter of introduction to her, upon
+one of his annual visits to Paris. Sophia had also often written to
+Jane of her father's friend, whom she regarded with so much reverence.
+
+Jane, the enthusiastic, romantic Jane, saw in the serene philosopher
+one of the sages of antiquity, and almost literally bowed and
+worshipped. All the sentiments of M. Roland were in accordance with
+the most cherished emotions which glowed in her mind. She found what
+she had ever been seeking, but had never found before, a truly
+sympathetic soul. She looked up to M. Roland as to a superior
+being--to an oracle, by whose decisions she could judge whether her
+own opinions were right or wrong. It is true that M. Roland never
+entered those airy realms of beauty and regions of romance where Jane
+loved, at times, to revel. And perhaps Jane venerated him still more
+for his more stern and unimaginative philosophy. But his meditative
+wisdom, his abstraction from the frivolous pursuits of life, his high
+ambition, his elevated pleasures, his consciousness of superiority
+over the mass of his fellowmen, and his sleepless desire to be a
+benefactor of humanity, were all traits of character which
+resistlessly attracted the admiration of Jane. She adored him as a
+disciple adores his master. She listened eagerly to all his words, and
+loved communion with his thoughts. M. Roland was by no means
+insensible to this homage, and he was charmed with her society
+because she was so delighted with his own conversation. Several years
+after their acquaintance began M. Roland made an avowal of his
+attachment. Jane knew very well the pride of the Roland family, and
+that her worldly circumstances were such that the connection would not
+seem an advantageous one. She also was too proud to enter into a
+family who might feel dishonoured by the alliance. She, therefore,
+frankly told him that she felt much honoured by his addresses, and
+that she esteemed him more highly than any other man she had met. Her
+father was a ruined man, however, and by his increasing debts and his
+errors still deeper disgrace might be entailed upon all connected with
+him, and she could not think of allowing M. Roland to make his
+generosity to her a source of future mortification to himself.
+
+The more she manifested this elevation of soul, in which Jane was
+perfectly sincere, the more earnestly did M. Roland persist in his
+plea. At last Jane, influenced by his entreaties, consented that he
+should make proposals to her father. He wrote to M. Phlippon. In reply
+he received an insulting letter, containing a blunt refusal. M.
+Phlippon declared that he had no idea of having for a son-in-law a man
+of such rigid principles, who would ever be reproaching him for all
+his little errors. He also told his daughter that she would find in a
+man of such austere virtue not a companion and an equal, but a tyrant.
+Jane laid this refusal of her father deeply to heart, and resolved
+that if she could not marry the man of her choice, she would marry no
+one else. She wrote to M. Roland, requesting him to abandon his
+design, and not to expose himself to any further affronts. She then
+requested permission of her father to retire to a convent.
+
+The scanty income she had saved from her mother's property rendered it
+necessary for her to live with the utmost frugality. She determined to
+regulate her expenses in accordance with this small sum. Potatoes,
+rice, and beans, with a little salt, and occasionally the luxury of a
+little butter, were her only food. She allowed herself to leave the
+convent but twice a week: once, to call for an hour upon a relative,
+and once to visit her father, and look after his linen. She had a
+little room under the roof in the attic, where the pattering of the
+rain upon the tiles soothed and lulled her to sleep by night. She
+carefully secluded herself from association with the other inmates of
+the convent, receiving only a visit of an hour each evening from the
+much-loved Sister Agatha. Her time she devoted, with unremitting
+diligence to those literary avocations in which she found so much
+delight.
+
+The quiet and seclusion of this life had many charms for Jane. Indeed,
+a person with such resource for enjoyment within herself could never
+be very weary. Several months thus glided away in tranquillity. She
+occasionally walked in the garden, at hours when no one else was
+there. The resignation, which she had so long cultivated; the peaceful
+conscience she enjoyed, in view of duty performed; the elevation of
+spirit which enabled her to rise superior to misfortune; the
+methodical arrangement of time, which assigned to each hour its
+appropriate duty; the habit of close application, which riveted her
+attention to her studies; the highly cultivated taste and buoyantly
+winged imagination, which opened before her all the fairy realms of
+fancy, were treasures which gilded her cell and enriched her heart.
+
+In the course of five or six months M. Roland again visited Paris, and
+called at the convent to see Jane. He saw her pale and pensive face
+behind a grating, and the sight of one who had suffered so much from
+her faithful love for him, and the sound of her voice, which ever
+possessed a peculiar charm, revived in his mind those impressions
+which had been somewhat fading away. He again renewed his offer and
+entreated her to allow the marriage ceremony at once to be performed.
+Jane, without much delay, yielded to his appeals. They were married in
+the winter of 1780. Jane was then twenty-five years of age. Her
+husband was twenty years her senior.
+
+The first year of their marriage life they passed in Paris. It was to
+Madame Roland a year of great enjoyment. Her husband was publishing a
+work upon the arts, and she, with all the energy of her enthusiastic
+mind, entered into all his literary enterprises. With great care and
+accuracy she prepared his manuscripts for the press and corrected the
+proofs. She lived in the study with him, became the companion of all
+his thoughts, and his assistant in all labours. The only recreations
+in which she indulged, during the winter, were to attend a course of
+lectures upon natural history and botany. M. Roland had hired ready
+furnished lodgings. She, well instructed by her mother in domestic
+duties, observing that all kinds of cooking did not agree with him,
+took pleasure in preparing his food with her own hands. Her husband
+engrossed her whole time, and, being naturally rather austere and
+imperious, he secluded her from the society of others and monopolised
+all her capabilities of friendly feeling.
+
+At the close of the year the couple went to Amiens and soon after was
+born a daughter, her only child, whom she nurtured with the most
+assiduous care. Her literary labours were, however, unremitted, and
+she still lived in the study with her books and her pen. M. Roland was
+writing several articles for an encyclopaedia. She aided most
+efficiently in collecting the materials and arranging the matter.
+Indeed, she wielded a far more vigorous pen than he did. Her
+copiousness of language, her facility of expression and the play of
+her fancy, gave her the command of a very fascinating style; and M.
+Roland obtained the credit for many passages rich in diction and
+beautiful in imagery for which he was indebted to the glowing
+imagination of his wife. Frequent sickness of her husband alarmed her
+for his life. The tenderness with which she watched over him
+strengthened the tie which united them. He could not but love a young
+and beautiful wife so devoted to him. She could not but love one upon
+whom she was conferring such rich blessings. Their little daughter,
+Eudora, was a source of great delight to the fond parents, and Madame
+Roland took the deepest interest in the developments of her mind. The
+office of M. Roland was highly lucrative, and his literary projects
+successful. They remained in Amiens four years.
+
+Later they retired to La Platiere, the paternal estate of M. Roland,
+situated at the base of the mountains near Lyons in the valley of the
+Saone. It is a region solitary and wild, with rivulets meandering down
+from the mountains, fringed with willows and poplars, and threading
+their way through narrow, yet smooth and fertile meadows luxuriant
+with vineyards. A large, square stone house, with regular windows and
+a roof nearly flat, of red tiles constituted the comfortable, spacious
+and substantial mansion.
+
+Her mode of life during the five calm and sunny years at La Platiere
+must have been exceedingly attractive. She rose with the sun, devoted
+sundry attentions to her husband and child, and personally
+superintended the arrangements for breakfast, taking an affectionate
+pleasure in preparing her husband's frugal food with her own hands.
+That social meal being passed, M. Roland entered the library for his
+intellectual toil, taking with him for his silent companion the
+idolised little Eudora. She amused herself with her pencil or reading
+or other studies, which her father and mother superintended. Madame
+Roland, in the meantime devoted herself, with most systematic energy,
+to her domestic concerns. She was a perfect housekeeper and each
+morning all the interests of her family, from the cellar to the
+garret, passed under her eye. She superintended the preservation of
+the fruit, the sorting of the linen, and those other details of
+domestic life which engross the attention of a good housewife. The
+systematic division of time, which seemed to be an instinctive
+principle of her nature, enabled her to accomplish all this in two
+hours. She had faithful and devoted servants to do the work. The
+superintendence was all that was required. This genius to superintend
+and be the head, while others contribute the hands, is not the most
+common of human endowments. Madame Roland, having thus attended to her
+domestic concerns, laid aside those cares for the remainder of the
+day, and entered the study to join her husband in his labours there.
+
+At the close of the literary labours of the morning Madame Roland met
+her guests at the dinner table. The labour of the day was then over.
+The repast was prolonged with social converse. After dinner they
+walked in the garden, sauntered through the vineyard and looked at the
+innumerable objects of interest which are ever to be found in the yard
+of a spacious farm. Madame Roland frequently retired to the library to
+write letters to her friends or to superintend the lessons of Eudora.
+Occasionally, of a fine day, she would walk for several miles, calling
+at the cottages of the peasantry, whom she greatly endeared to her by
+her unvarying kindness. In the evening, after tea, they again resorted
+to the library. Guests of distinguished name and influence were
+frequently with them, and the hours glided swiftly, cheered by the
+brilliance of philosophy and genius. The journals of the day were
+read, Madame Roland being usually called upon as reader. When not thus
+reading, she usually sat at her work-table, employing her fingers with
+her needle, while she took part in the conversation.
+
+"This kind of life," says Madame Roland, "would be very austere, were
+not my husband a man of great merit, whom I love with my whole heart.
+I congratulate myself on enjoying it; and I exert my best endeavours
+to make it last."
+
+Again she draws the captivating picture of rural pleasures:
+
+"I am preserving pears which will be delicious. We are drying raisins
+and prunes. We overlook the servants busy in the vineyard; repose in
+the shady groves, and on the green meadows; gather walnuts from the
+trees; and having collected our stock of fruit for the winter, spread
+it to dry. After breakfast this morning we are all going in a body to
+gather almonds. Throw off, then, dear friend, your fetters for a
+while, and come and join us in our retreat. You will find here true
+friendship and real simplicity of heart."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Madame Roland was thus living at La Platiere, in the enjoyment of all
+that this world can give of peace and happiness, when the first
+portentious mutterings of the French Revolution fell upon her ears.
+She eagerly caught the sounds, and, believing them the precursor of
+blessings, rejoiced in the assurance that the hour was approaching
+when long-oppressed humanity would reassert its rights and achieve its
+triumph. Little did she dream of the woes which in surging billows
+were to roll over her country and which were to engulf her and all
+whom she loved in their tide. Her faith in human nature was so strong
+that she could foresee no obstacles and no dangers in the way of
+immediate disfranchisement from all laws and usages which her judgment
+disapproved. Her whole soul was aroused and she devoted all her
+affections and every energy of her mind to the welfare of the human
+race.
+
+Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette had but recently inherited the throne
+of the Bourbons. Louis was benevolent, but destitute of the decision
+of character requisite to hold the reins of government in a stormy
+period. Maria Antoinette had neither culture of mind nor knowledge of
+the world. She was an amiable but spoiled child, with native nobleness
+of character, but with those defects which are the natural consequence
+of the frivolous education she had received. She thought never of duty
+and responsibility; always and only of pleasure. It was her
+misfortune rather than her fault that the idea never entered her mind
+that kings and queens had aught else to do than to indulge in luxury.
+It would be hardly possible to conceive of two characters less
+qualified to occupy the throne in stormy times than were Louis and
+Maria. The people were slowly, but with resistless power, rising
+against the abuses of the aristocracy and the monarchy. Louis, a man
+of unblemished kindness, was made the scapegoat for the sins of
+oppressive, profligate princes, who for centuries had trodden with
+iron hoofs upon the necks of their subjects. The accumulated hate of
+ages was poured upon his head.
+
+The National Assembly consisted of the nobility, the higher clergy,
+and representatives, chosen by the people, from all parts of France.
+
+M. Roland, who was quite an idol with the populace of Lyons and its
+vicinity, was chosen representative to the Assembly from the city of
+Lyons. In that busy city the revolutionary movement had begun with
+great power, and the name of Roland was the rallying point of the
+people now struggling to escape from oppression. M. Roland spent some
+time in the city, drawn thither by the intense interest of the times,
+and in the salon of Madame Roland meetings were every evening held by
+the most influential men of the revolutionary party. Her ardour
+stimulated their zeal, and her well-stored mind and fascinating
+eloquence guided their councils.
+
+In this rising conflict between plebeian and patrician, between
+democrat and aristocrat, the position in which M. Roland and wife were
+placed, as most conspicuous and influential members of the
+revolutionary party, arrayed against them, with daily increasing
+animosity, the aristocratic community of Lyons. Each day their names
+were pronounced by the advocates of reform with more enthusiasm and by
+their opponents with deepening hostility. The applause and the censure
+alike invigorated Madame Roland, and her whole soul became absorbed in
+the idea of popular liberty. This object became her passion, and she
+devoted herself to it with the concentration of every energy of mind
+and heart.
+
+On the 20th of February, 1791, Madame Roland accompanied her husband
+to Paris, as he took his seat in the National Assembly. Her persuasive
+influence was dictating those measures which were driving the ancient
+nobility of France from their chateaux, and her vigorous mind was
+guiding those blows before which the throne of the Bourbons trembled.
+The unblemished and incorruptible integrity of M. Roland, his
+simplicity of manners and ability, invested him immediately with much
+authority among his associates. The brilliance of his wife also
+reflected much lustre upon his name. Madame Roland with her growing
+zeal, had just written a pamphlet upon the new order of things, in
+language so powerful and impressive that more than sixty thousand
+copies had been sold--an enormous number, considering the comparative
+fewness of readers at that time. She, of course, was received with the
+most flattering attention, and great deference was paid to her
+opinions. She attended daily the sittings of the Assembly, and
+listened with the deepest interest to the debates.
+
+All her tastes were with the ancient nobility and their defenders. All
+her principles were with the people. And as she contrasted the
+unrefined exterior and clumsy speech of the democratic leaders with
+the courtly bearing and elegant diction of those who rallied around
+the throne, she was aroused to a more vehement desire for the
+elevation of those with whom she had cast in her lot. The conflict
+with the nobles was of short continuance. The energy of rising
+democracy soon vanquished them.
+
+The most moderate party was called the Girondist. It was so called
+because their most prominent leaders were from the department of the
+Gironde. They would deprive the King of many of his prerogatives, but
+not of his crown. They would take from him his despotic power, but not
+his life. They would raise the mass of the people to the enjoyment of
+liberty, but to liberty controlled by vigorous law. Opposed to them
+were the Jacobins--far more radical in their reform. They would break
+down all privileged orders, confiscate the property of the nobles and
+place prince and beggar on the footing of equality. These were the two
+great parties into which revolutionary France was divided and the
+conflict between them was the most fierce and implacable earth has
+ever witnessed.
+
+M. Roland and wife gathered around them every evening many of the most
+influential members of the Assembly. They attached themselves with all
+their zeal and energy to the Girondists. Four evenings of every week
+the leaders of this party met in the salon of Madame Roland, to
+deliberate respecting their measures.
+
+The powerful influence which Madame Roland was thus exerting could not
+be concealed. She appeared to have no ambition for personal renown.
+She sought only to elevate the position and expand the celebrity of
+her husband. It was whispered from ear to ear, and now and then openly
+asserted in the Assembly, that the bold and decisive measures of the
+Girondists received their impulse from the lovely wife of M. Roland.
+She also furnished many very able articles for a widely circulated
+journal, established by the Girondists for the advocacy of their
+political views.
+
+The spirit of the revolution was advancing with giant strides, and the
+throne was reeling beneath the blows of the people. Massacres were
+rife all over the kingdom. The sky was nightly illumined by
+conflagrations. Nobles were abandoning their estates and escaping from
+perils and death to refuge in the little army of emigrants at
+Coblentz. The King, insulted and a prisoner, reigned but in name. He
+hoped, by the appointment of a Republican ministry to pacify the
+democratic spirit.
+
+He yielded to the pressure, dismissed his ministers, and surrendered
+himself to the Girondists for the appointment of a new ministry. The
+Girondists called upon M. Roland to take the important post of
+Minister of the Interior. It was a perilous position to fill, but what
+danger will not ambition face? In the present posture of affairs the
+Minister of the Interior was the monarch of France. M. Roland smiled
+nervously at the power which, thus unsolicited, was passing into his
+hands. Madame Roland, whose all-absorbing passion it now was to
+elevate her husband to the highest summits of greatness, was gratified
+in view of the honour and agitated in view of the peril; but, to her
+exalted spirit, the greater the danger, the more heroic the act.
+
+"The burden is heavy," she said; "but Roland has a great consciousness
+of his own powers, and would derive fresh strength from the feeling of
+being useful to liberty and his country."
+
+In March, 1792, he entered upon his arduous and exalted office. When
+M. Roland made his first appearance at court instead of arraying
+himself in the court dress, he affected in his costume the simplicity
+of his principles. He had not forgotten the impression produced in
+France by Franklin, as in republican simplicity he moved among the
+glittering throng at Versailles. He accordingly presented himself at
+the Tuileries in a plain black coat, with a round hat, and dusty shoes
+fastened with ribbons instead of buckles. The courtiers were
+indignant. The King was highly displeased at what he considered an act
+of disrespect. The master of ceremonies was in consternation, and
+exclaimed with a look of horror to General Damuriez:
+
+"My dear sir, he has not even buckles on his shoes!"
+
+"Mercy upon us!" exclaimed the old general, with the most laughable
+expression of affected gravity, "we shall then all go to ruin
+together!"
+
+M. Roland after his first interview with the monarch assured his wife
+that the community had formed a totally erroneous estimate of the
+King; that he was a hearty supporter of the Constitution which had
+been forced upon him. The prompt reply of Madame Roland displayed even
+more than her characteristic sagacity:
+
+"If Louis is sincerely a friend of the Constitution, he must be
+virtuous beyond the common race of mortals. Mistrust your own virtue,
+M. Roland. You are only an honest countryman wandering amid a crowd of
+courtiers. They speak our language; we do not know theirs. No! Louis
+cannot love the chains that fetter him. He may feign to caress them.
+He thinks only of how he can spurn them. No man likes his humiliation.
+Trust in human nature; that never deceives. Distrust courts. Your
+virtue is too elevated to see the snares which courtiers spread
+beneath your feet."
+
+From all the spacious apartments of the mansion alloted as the
+residence of the Minister of the Interior Madame Roland selected a
+small and retired parlour, which she had furnished with every
+attraction as a library and a study. This was her much-loved retreat,
+and here M. Roland, in the presence of his wife, was accustomed to see
+his friends in all their confidential intercourse. But the position of
+the Girondists began to be more and more perilous. The army of
+emigrant nobles at Coblentz, within the dominions of the King of
+Prussia, was rapidly increasing in numbers. There were hundreds of
+thousands in France, the most illustrious in rank and opulence, who
+would join such an army. The people all believed that Louis wished to
+escape from Paris and head that army. On the other hand, they saw
+another party, the Jacobin, noisy, turbulent, sanguinary and
+threatening with destruction all connected in any way with the
+execrated throne. M. Roland was urged to present to the throne a most
+earnest letter of expostulation and advice. Madame Roland sat down at
+her desk and wrote the letter for her husband. It was expressed in
+that glowing style so eminently at her command. Its eloquence was
+inspired by the foresight she had of impending perils. M. Roland,
+almost trembling in view of its boldness and its truths, presented the
+letter to the King. Its last sentences will give some idea of its
+character:
+
+    Love, serve the Revolution, and the people will love it and
+    serve it in you. Ratify the measures to extirpate their
+    fanaticism. Paris trembles in view of its danger. Surround its
+    walls with an army of defence. Delay longer, and you will be
+    deemed a conspirator and an accomplice. Just Heaven! hast thou
+    stricken kings with blindness? I know that truth is rarely
+    welcomed at the foot of thrones. I know, too, that the
+    withholding of truth from kings renders revolutions so often
+    necessary. As a citizen, a minister, I owe truth to the King,
+    and nothing shall prevent me from making it reach his ear.
+
+This celebrated letter was presented to the King on the 11th of June,
+1792. On the same day M. Roland received a letter from the King
+informing him that he was dismissed from office.
+
+"Here am I, dismissed from office," was M. Roland's exclamation to his
+wife on his return home.
+
+"Present your letter to the Assembly, that the nation may see for what
+counsel you have been dismissed," replied the undaunted wife.
+
+M. Roland did so. He was received as a martyr to patriotism. The
+letter was read amid the loudest applause. It was ordered to be
+printed and circulated by tens of thousands through the kingdom; and
+there came rolling back upon the metropolis the echo of the most
+tumultuous indignation and applause. The famous letter was read by all
+France--nay, more, by all Europe. Roland was a hero. Upon this wave of
+enthusiastic popularity Madame Roland and her husband retired from the
+magnificent palace where they had dwelt for so short a time and
+selected for their retreat very humble apartments in an apparently
+obscure street.
+
+But M. Roland and wife were more powerful now than ever before. The
+letter had placed them in the front ranks of the friends of reform,
+and enshrined them in the hearts of the ever fickle populace. Even the
+Jacobins were compelled to swell the universal voice of commendation.
+M. Roland's apartments were ever thronged. All important plans were
+discussed and shaped by him and his wife before they were presented to
+the Assembly.
+
+The outcry against M. Roland's dismissal was falling in thunder tones
+on the ear of the King. This act had fanned those flames of
+revolutionary frenzy which were now glaring in every part of France.
+The people, intoxicated and maddened by the discovery of their power,
+were now arrayed, with irresistible thirstings for destruction and
+blood, against the King, the court, and the nobility. There was no
+hope for Louis but in the recall of M. Roland. The Jacobins were upon
+him in locust legions. M. Roland alone could bring the Girondists, as
+a shield, between the throne and the mob. He was recalled, and again
+moved in calm triumph from his obscure chambers to the palace of the
+minister. If Madame Roland's letter dismissed him from office, her
+letter also restored him again with an enormous accumulation of power.
+
+Madame Roland was far more conscious of the peril than her husband.
+With intense emotion, but calmly and firmly, she looked upon the
+gathering storm. The peculiarity of her character, and her great moral
+courage, was illustrated by the mode of life she vigorously adopted.
+She was entirely undazzled, and resolved that, consecrating all her
+energies to the demands of the tempestuous times, she would waste no
+time in fashionable parties and heartless visits. Selecting for her
+own use one of the smallest parlours, she furnished it as her library.
+Here she lived engrossed in study, busy with her pen, and taking an
+unseen but most active part in all those measures which were literally
+agitating the whole civilised world. Her little library was the
+sanctuary for all confidential conversation upon matters of state.
+Here her husband met his political friends to mature their measures.
+She wrote many of his proclamations, his letters, his state papers,
+and with all the glowing fervour of an enthusiastic woman.
+
+She writes:
+
+    Without me my husband would have been quite as good a minister,
+    for his knowledge, his activity, his integrity were all his own;
+    but with me he attracted more attention, because I infused into
+    his writings that mixture of spirit and gentleness, of
+    authoritative reason and seducing sentiment, which is, perhaps,
+    only to be found in the language of a woman who has a clear head
+    and a feeling heart.
+
+Anarchy now reigned throughout France. The King and the royal family
+were imprisoned in the Temple. The Girondists in the National
+Convention, and M. Roland at the head of the ministry, were struggling
+to restore the dominion of law, and, if possible, to save the life of
+the King. The Jacobins, who, unable to resist the popularity of M.
+Roland, had, for a time, cooperated with the Girondists, now began to
+separate themselves again more widely from them. They flattered the
+mob. They encouraged every possible demonstration of lawless violence.
+In tones daily increasing in boldness and efficiency, they declared
+the Girondists to be the friends of the monarch, and the enemies of
+popular liberty.
+
+Madame Roland, in the name of her husband, drew up for the Convention
+the plan of a republic as a substitute for the throne. From childhood
+she had yearned for a republic. Now the throne and hereditary rank
+were virtually abolished, and all France clamoured for a republic. Her
+husband was nominally Minister of the Interior, but his power was
+gone. The mob of Paris had usurped the place of King, and
+Constitution and law. The Jacobins were attaining the decided
+ascendency. The guillotine was daily crimsoned with the blood of the
+noblest citizens of France. The streets and the prisons were polluted
+with the massacre of the innocent.
+
+M. Roland was almost frantic in view of these horrors which he had no
+power to quell. The mob, headed by the Jacobins, had now the complete
+ascendency, and he was minister but in name. He urged the adoption of
+immediate and energetic measures to arrest these execrable deeds of
+lawless violence. Many of the Girondists in the Assembly gave vehement
+utterance to their execration of the massacres. Others were
+intimidated by the weapons which the Jacobins were now so effectually
+wielding. Madame Roland distinctly saw and deeply felt the peril to
+which she and her friends were exposed. She knew, and they all knew,
+that defeat was death.
+
+The question between the Girondist and the Jacobin was: "Who shall lie
+down on the guillotine?" For some time the issue of the struggle was
+uncertain. The Jacobins summoned their allies, the mob. They
+surrounded the doors and the windows of the Assembly, and with their
+howlings sustained their friends. The Girondists found themselves, at
+the close of the struggle, defeated, yet not so decidedly but that
+they still clung to hope.
+
+M. Roland, who had not yet entirely lost, with the people, that
+popularity which swept him again into the office of Minister of the
+Interior, now presented to the Assembly his resignation of power which
+was merely nominal. Great efforts had for some time been made by his
+adversaries, to turn the tide of popular hatred against him, and
+especially against his wife. Madame Roland might have fled from these
+perils, and have retired with her husband to tranquillity and safety,
+but she urged M. Roland to remain at his post and resolved to remain
+herself and meet her destiny, whatever it might be.
+
+The Jacobins now made a direct and infamous attempt to turn the rage
+of the populace against Madame Roland. She was summoned to present
+herself before the Convention, to confront her accuser, and defend
+herself from the scaffold. Her gentle yet imperial spirit was
+undaunted by the magnitude of the peril. Her name had often been
+mentioned in the Assembly as the inspiring genius of the most
+influential party which had risen up amid the storms of the
+Revolution. Her talents, her accomplishments, her fascinating
+eloquence, had spread her renown widely through Europe.
+
+The aspect of a woman combining in her person and mind all the
+attractions of nature and genius, entering this vast assembly of
+irritated men to speak in defence of her life, at once hushed the
+clamour of hoarse voices and subdued the rage of angry disputants.
+Silence filled the hall. Every eye was fixed upon her. She stood
+before the bar.
+
+"What is your name?" inquired the president.
+
+She paused for a moment, and then in clear and liquid tones answered:
+
+"Roland! A name of which I am proud, for it is that of a good and an
+honourable man."
+
+"Do you know Achille Viard?" the president inquired.
+
+"I have once, and but once, seen him."
+
+"What has passed between you?"
+
+"Twice he has written to me, soliciting an interview. Once I saw him.
+After a short conversation, I perceived that he was a spy, and
+dismissed him with the contempt he deserved."
+
+Briefly, in tremulous tones of voice, but with a spirit of firmness
+which no terrors could daunt, she entered upon her defence. It was the
+first time that a woman's voice had been heard in the midst of the
+clamour of these enraged combatants. The Assembly, unused to such a
+scene, were fascinated by her attractive eloquence. Madame Roland was
+acquitted by acclamation. Upon the spot the president proposed that
+the marked respect of the Convention be conferred upon Madame Roland.
+With enthusiasm the resolution was carried. As she retired from the
+hall, her bosom glowing with the excitement of the triumph she had
+won, her ear was greeted with the enthusiastic applause of the whole
+Assembly. The eyes of all France had been attracted to her as she thus
+defended herself and her friends, and confounded her enemies.
+
+The most distressing embarrassments now surrounded M. Roland. He could
+not abandon power without abandoning himself and his supporters in the
+Assembly to the guillotine; and while continuing in power, he was
+compelled to witness deeds of atrocity from which not only his soul
+revolted, but to which it was necessary for him apparently to give his
+sanction. Thus situated, he sent in his final resignation and retired
+to humble lodgings in one of the obscure streets of Paris. Here,
+anxiously watching the progress of events, he began to make
+preparations to leave the mob-enthralled metropolis and seek a retreat
+in the calm seclusion of La Platiere. Neither the sacredness of law
+nor the weapons of their friends could longer afford them any
+protection. The danger became so imminent that the friends of Madame
+Roland brought her the dress of a peasant girl, and entreated her to
+put it on, as a disguise and escape by night, that her husband might
+follow after her, unencumbered by his family; but she proudly repelled
+that which she deemed a cowardly artifice. She threw the dress aside,
+exclaiming:
+
+"I am ashamed to resort to any such expedient. I will neither disguise
+myself, nor make any attempt at secret escape. My enemies may find me
+always in my place. If I am assassinated it shall be in my own home. I
+owe my country an example of firmness, and I will give it."
+
+The gray of a dull and sombre morning was just beginning to appear as
+Madame Roland threw herself upon a bed for a few moments of repose.
+Overwhelmed by sorrow and fatigue, she had just fallen asleep, when a
+band of armed men rudely broke into her house, and demanded to be
+conducted to her apartment. She knew too well the object of the
+summons. The order for her arrest was presented her. She calmly read
+it, and requested permission to write to a friend. The request was
+granted. When the note was finished, the officer informed her that it
+would be necessary for him to be made acquainted with its contents.
+She quietly tore it into fragments and cast it into the fire. Then,
+imprinting her last kiss upon the cheek of her unconscious child, with
+the composure which such a catastrophe would naturally produce in so
+heroic a mind, she left her home for the prison. As she was led from
+the house a vast crowd collected around the door, who, believing her
+to be a traitor to her country, and in league with her enemies,
+shouted, "A la guillotine!" Unmoved by their cries, she looked calmly
+without gesture or reply. One of the officers, to relieve her from the
+insults to which she was exposed, asked her if she wished to have the
+windows of the carriage closed.
+
+"No!" she replied, "I do not fear the looks of honest men, and I brave
+those of my enemies."
+
+"You have very great resolution," was the reply, "thus calmly to await
+justice."
+
+"Justice!" she exclaimed; "were justice done I should not be here. But
+I shall go to the scaffold as fearlessly as I now proceed to the
+prison."
+
+At ten o'clock that evening, her cell being prepared, she entered it
+for the first time. It was a cold, bare room, with walls blackened by
+the dust and damp of ages. There was a small fireplace in the room,
+and a narrow window, with a double iron grating, which admitted but a
+dim twilight even at noonday. In one corner there was a pallet of
+straw. The chill night air crept in at the unglazed window, and the
+dismal tocsin proclaimed that Paris was still the scene of tumult and
+of violence. Madame Roland threw herself upon her humble bed, and was
+so overpowered by fatigue and exhaustion that she woke not from her
+dreamless slumber until twelve o'clock of the next day.
+
+Eudora, who had been left by her mother in the care of weeping
+domestics, was taken by a friend and watched over and protected with
+maternal care. Though Madame Roland never saw her idolised child
+again, her heart was comforted in the prison by the assurance that she
+had found a home with those who, for her mother's sake, would love and
+cherish her.
+
+When Madame Roland awoke from her long sleep, instead of yielding to
+despair and surrendering herself to useless repinings, she
+immediately began to arrange her cell as comfortably as possible, and
+to look round for such sources of comfort and enjoyment as might yet
+be obtained. She obtained the favour of a small table, and then of a
+neat white spread to cover it. This she placed near the window to
+serve for her writing-desk. To keep this table, which she prized so
+highly, unsoiled, she smilingly told her keeper that she should make a
+dining-table of her stove. A rusty dining-table indeed it was. Two
+hairpins, which she drew from her own clustering ringlets, she drove
+into a shelf for pegs to hang her clothes upon. These arrangements she
+made as cheerfully as when superintending the disposition of the
+gorgeous furniture in the palace over which she had presided. Having
+thus provided her study, her next care was to obtain a few books. She
+happened to have Thomson's "Seasons," a favourite volume of hers, in
+her pocket. Through the jailer's wife she succeeded in obtaining
+"Plutarch's Lives" and Sheridan's "Dictionary."
+
+The prison regulations were very severe. The Government allowed twenty
+pence per day for the support of each prisoner. Ten pence was to be
+paid to the jailer for the furniture he put into the cell; tenpence
+only remained for food. The prisoners were, however, allowed to
+purchase such food as they pleased from their own purse. Madame
+Roland, with that stoicism which enabled her to triumph over all
+ordinary ills, resolved to conform to the prison allowance. She took
+bread and water alone for breakfast. The dinner was coarse meat and
+vegetables. The money she saved by this great frugality she
+distributed among the poorer prisoners. The only indulgence she
+allowed herself was in the purchase of books and flowers. In reading
+and with her pen she beguiled the weary days of her imprisonment. And
+though at times her spirit was overwhelmed with anguish at her
+desolate home and blighted hopes, she still found solace in the warm
+affections which sprang up around her, even in the uncongenial
+atmosphere of a prison.
+
+One day some commissioners called at her cell, hoping to extort from
+her the secret of her husband's retreat. She looked them calmly in the
+face and said:
+
+"Gentlemen, I know perfectly well where my husband is. I scorn to tell
+you a lie. I know, also, my own strength. And I assure you that there
+is no earthly power which can induce me to betray him."
+
+The commissioners withdrew, admiring her heroism, and convinced that
+she was still able to wield an influence which might yet bring the
+guillotine upon their own necks. Her doom was sealed. Her heroism was
+a crime. She was too illustrious to live.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Madame Roland remained some time in the Abbaye prison. On the
+twenty-fourth day of her imprisonment, to her inexpressible
+astonishment, an officer entered her cell, and informed her that she
+was liberated, as no charge could be found against her. Hardly
+crediting her senses--fearing that she should wake up and find her
+freedom but a dream--she took a coach and hastened to her own door.
+Her eyes were full of tears of joy and her heart almost bursting with
+delight, in the anticipation of again pressing her idolised child to
+her bosom. Her hand was upon the door latch--she had not yet passed
+the threshold--when two men, who had watched at the door of her
+dwelling, again seized her in the name of the law. In spite of her
+tears and supplications, they conveyed her to the prison of St.
+Pelagie. This loathsome receptacle of crime was filled with the
+abandoned who had been swept from the streets of Paris. It was,
+apparently, a studied humiliation, to compel their victim to associate
+with beings from whom her soul shrank with loathing.
+
+Many hours of every day she beguiled in this prison in writing the
+memoirs of her own life. It was an eloquent and a touching narrative,
+written with the expectation that each sentence might be interrupted
+by the entrance of the executioners to conduct her to trial and to the
+guillotine. In this unveiling of the heart to the world, one sees a
+noble nature animated to benevolence by native generosity. The
+consciousness of spiritual elevation constituted her only solace. The
+anticipation of a lofty reputation after death was her only heaven. No
+one can read the thoughts she penned but with the deepest emotion.
+
+The Girondists who had been in prison were led from their dungeons in
+the Conciergerie to their execution on October 31, 1793. Upon that
+very day Madame Roland was conveyed from the prison of St. Pelagie to
+the same gloomy cells vacated by the death of her friends. She was
+cast into a bare and miserable dungeon, in that receptacle of woe,
+where there was not even a bed. Another prisoner, moved with
+compassion, drew his own pallet into her cell, that she might not be
+compelled to throw herself for repose upon the cold, wet stones. The
+chill air of winter had now come, and yet no covering was allowed her.
+Through the long night she shivered with the cold.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The day after Madame Roland was placed in the Conciergerie, she was
+visited by one of the officers of the revolutionary party, and closely
+questioned concerning the friendship she had entertained for the
+Girondists. She frankly avowed the affection with which she cherished
+their memory, but she declared that she and they were the cordial
+friends of republican liberty; that they wished to preserve, not to
+destroy, the Constitution. The examination lasted for three hours, and
+consisted in an incessant torrent of criminations, to which she was
+hardly permitted to offer one word in reply. This examination taught
+her the nature of the accusations which would be brought against her.
+She sat down in her cell that very night, and, with a rapid pen,
+sketched that defence which has been pronounced one of the most
+eloquent and touching monuments of the Revolution. It so beautifully
+illustrates the heroism of her character and the beauty and energy of
+her mind that it will ever be read with the liveliest interest.
+
+She remained in the Conciergerie but one week, and during that time so
+endeared herself to all as to become the prominent object of attention
+and love. Her case is one of the most extraordinary the history of the
+world has presented, in which the very highest degree of heroism is
+combined with the most resistless loveliness. With an energy of will,
+an inflexibility of purpose, a firmness of endurance which no mortal
+man has ever exceeded, she combined gentleness and tenderness and
+affection.
+
+The day before her trial, her advocate, Chauveau de la Garde, visited
+her to consult respecting her defence. She, well aware that no one
+could speak a word in her favour but at the peril of his own life, and
+also fully conscious that her doom was already sealed, drew a ring
+from her finger, and said to him:
+
+"To-morrow I shall be no more. I know the fate which awaits me. Your
+kind assistance cannot avail aught for me, and would but endanger you.
+I pray you, therefore, not to come to the tribunal, but to accept of
+this last testimony of my regard."
+
+The next day she was led to her trial. She attired herself in a white
+robe, as a symbol of her innocence, and her long dark hair fell in
+thick curls on her neck and shoulders. She emerged from her dungeon a
+vision of unusual loveliness. The prisoners who were walking in the
+corridors gathered around her, and with smiles and words of
+encouragement she infused energy into their hearts. Calm and
+invincible she met her judges. Whenever she attempted to utter a word
+in her defence, she was browbeaten by the judges, and silenced by the
+clamours of the mob which filled the tribunal. At last the president
+demanded of her that she should reveal her husband's asylum. She
+proudly replied:
+
+"I do not know of any law by which I can be obliged to violate the
+strongest feelings of nature."
+
+This was sufficient, and she was immediately condemned. Her sentence
+was thus expressed:
+
+    The public accuser has drawn up the present indictment against
+    Jane Mary Phlippon, the wife of Roland, late Minister of the
+    Interior, for having wickedly and designedly aided and assisted
+    in the conspiracy which existed against the unity and
+    indivisibility of the Republic, against the liberty and safety
+    of the French people, by assembling, at her house, in secret
+    council, the principal chiefs of that conspiracy, and by keeping
+    up a correspondence tending to facilitate their treasonable
+    designs. The tribunal, having heard the public accuser deliver
+    his reasons concerning the application of the law, condemns Jane
+    Mary Phlippon, wife of Roland, to the punishment of death.
+
+She listened calmly to her sentence, and then, rising, bowed with
+dignity to her judges and, smiling, said:
+
+"I thank you, gentlemen, for thinking me worthy of sharing the fate of
+the great men whom you have assassinated. I shall endeavour to imitate
+their firmness on the scaffold."
+
+With the buoyant step of a child, and with a rapidity which almost
+betokened joy, she passed beneath the narrow portal, and descended to
+her cell, from which she was to be led, with the morning light, to
+death. The prisoners had assembled to greet her on her return, and
+anxiously gathered round her. She looked upon them with a smile of
+perfect tranquillity, and, drawing her hand across her neck, made a
+sign expressive of her doom.
+
+The morning of the 8th of November, 1793, dawned gloomily upon Paris.
+It was one of the darkest days of that reign of terror which, for so
+long a period, enveloped France in its sombre shades. The ponderous
+gates of the courtyard of the Conciergerie opened that morning to a
+long procession of carts loaded with victims for the guillotine.
+Madame Roland had contemplated her fate too long, and had disciplined
+her spirit too severely, to fail of fortitude in this last hour of
+trial. She came from her cell scrupulously attired. A serene smile was
+upon her cheeks, and the glow of joyous animation lighted up her
+features as she waved an adieu to the weeping prisoners who gathered
+round her. The last cart was assigned to Madame Roland. She entered it
+with a step as light and elastic as if it were a carriage for a
+morning's drive. By her side stood an infirm old man, M. La Marche. He
+was pale and trembling, and his fainting heart, in view of the
+approaching terror, almost ceased to beat. She sustained him by her
+arm, and addressed to him words of consolation and encouragement, in
+cheerful accents and with a benignant smile. She stood firmly in the
+cart, looking with a serene eye upon the crowds which lined the
+streets, and listening to the clamour which filled the air. A crowd
+surrounded the cart shouting:
+
+"To the guillotine! to the guillotine!"
+
+She looked kindly upon them, and bending over the railing of the cart,
+said to them in tones as placid as if she were addressing her own
+child:
+
+"My friends, I _am_ going to the guillotine. In a few moments I shall
+be there. They who send me thither will ere long follow me. I go
+innocent. They will come stained with blood. You who now applaud our
+execution will then applaud theirs with equal zeal."
+
+The long procession arrived at the guillotine, and the bloody work
+began. The victims were dragged from the carts, and the axe rose and
+fell with unceasing rapidity. Head after head fell into the basket.
+The executioners approached the cart where Madame Roland stood by the
+side of her fainting companion. With an animated countenance and a
+cheerful smile, she was endeavouring to infuse fortitude into his
+soul. The executioner grasped her by the arm.
+
+"Stay," said she, slightly resisting his grasp; "I have one favour to
+ask, and that is not for myself. I beseech you grant it me." Then
+turning to the old man she said: "Do you precede me to the scaffold.
+To see my blood flow would make you suffer the bitterness of death
+twice over. I must spare you the pain of witnessing my execution."
+
+The stern officer gave a surly refusal, replying: "My orders are to
+take you first."
+
+With that winning smile and that fascinating grace which were almost
+resistless, she rejoined: "You cannot, surely, refuse a woman her last
+request."
+
+The hard-hearted executor of the law was brought within the influence
+of her enchantment. He paused, looked at her for a moment in
+bewilderment, and yielded. The poor old man, more dead than alive, was
+conducted upon the scaffold and placed beneath the fatal axe. Madame
+Roland, without the slightest change of colour, or the apparent tremor
+of a nerve, saw the ponderous instrument, with its glittering edge,
+glide upon its deadly mission, and the decapitated trunk of her friend
+was thrown aside to give place for her. With a placid countenance and
+a buoyant step she ascended the steps. She stood for a moment upon the
+platform, looked calmly around upon the vast concourse, and then
+bowing before a clay statue of Liberty near by exclaimed: "O Liberty!
+what crimes are committed in thy name." She surrendered herself to the
+executioner, and was bound to the plank. The plank fell to its
+horizontal position, bringing her head under the fatal axe. The
+glittering steel glided through the groove, and the head of Madame
+Roland was severed from her body.
+
+The grief of M. Roland, when apprised of the event, was unbounded. For
+a time he entirely lost his senses. Life to him was no longer
+endurable. Privately he left by night, the kind friends who had
+concealed him for six months, and wandered to such a distance from his
+asylum as to secure his protectors from any danger on his account.
+Through the long hours of the winter's night he continued his dreary
+walk, till the first gray of the morning appeared. Drawing a long
+stiletto from the inside of his walking-stick, he placed the head of
+it against the trunk of a tree, and threw himself upon the sharp
+weapon. The point pierced his heart and he fell lifeless upon the
+frozen ground. Some peasants passing by discovered his body. A piece
+of paper was pinned to the breast of his coat, upon which there were
+written these words:
+
+    Whoever thou art that findest these remains, respect them as
+    those of a virtuous man. After hearing of my wife's death, I
+    would not stay another day in a world so stained with crime.
+
+The daughter of Madame Roland succeeded in escaping the fury of the
+tyrants of the Revolution. She lived surrounded by kind protectors,
+and in subsequent years was married to M. Champeneaux, the son of one
+of her mother's intimate friends.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+GRACE DARLING
+
+
+Grace Darling was born on the 24th of November, 1815, at a small town
+upon the northeastern coast of England. She was the seventh child of
+her parents. Her grandfather, Robert Darling, had been keeper of the
+coal-light on the outmost of the Farne Islands, and her father,
+William, succeeded him in that post. In 1826, however, when Grace was
+eleven years old, William Darling took his family to Longstone,
+another island of the same group.
+
+These Farne Islands are about twenty-five in number at low tide, and,
+as a visitor has pointed out, are desolate to an uncommon degree,
+although they are at no great distance from the Northumberland coast.
+The sea rushes with great force through the channels between the
+islands. Longstone, upon which Grace dwelt was, says another visitor,
+of dark whinstone, cracked in every direction and worn with the action
+of winds, waves and tempests, since the world began. Over the greater
+part of it was not a blade of grass nor a grain of earth; it was hard
+and iron-like stone, crusted round all the coast as far as high
+water-mark with limpet and still smaller shells. We ascended wrinkled
+hills of black stone, and descended into worn and dismal dells of the
+same, into some of which, where the tide got entrance, it came pouring
+and roaring in raging whiteness, and churning the loose fragments of
+whinstone into round pebbles, and piling them up in deep crevices,
+with seaweed. Over our heads screamed hundreds of hovering birds, the
+gull mingling its hideous laughter most wildly.
+
+Fancy a lone lighthouse standing upon this pile of stone, dropped
+seemingly, in the midst of the water, five miles from the mainland.
+The sea tosses, and swells, and beats the rocks unceasingly. In fine
+weather it is blue and more kindly; in storms the waters are black and
+furious and fearful. It was known as a most desolate and dangerous
+lighthouse, and its service could be only a man and family of courage,
+endurance, large human feeling and strong sense of duty.
+
+In such an abode grew the little girl, almost alone so far as school
+friends go. Her father taught her to read and write together with the
+seven of her brothers and sisters, and their schoolroom was the
+lantern of the lighthouse. Her instructors were in other ways the sky
+and the breaking surf; her comrades the sea birds and the simple shell
+fish and floating grasses of the salt water and all the strange and
+curious growths the sea brings wherever it is free.
+
+Like her brothers and sisters, Grace was schooled after the simpler
+fashion. But when such days were passed she kept to her home rather
+than go out into the world or marry. The lighthouse sheltered a united
+and happy family. Grace loved the seclusion of that life and assisted
+her mother with the work of the household. Others of the daughters had
+gone to homes of their own upon the mainland.
+
+If our surroundings help to form our characters, here in this
+lighthouse Grace must have grown into a strong self-control and a
+spirit of helpfulness toward hapless people and those wrecks upon the
+Farne Islands, of which many a legend has been told.
+
+About thirty years before she was born a fine merchantman from America
+had struck the ledges near the lighthouse, and it is said that to the
+recital of this ship-wreck, of how the brave sailors fought for life
+and how one by one they fell or were swept into the fierce waters, the
+little girl would listen weeping, and then go pitifully to her bed.
+This tale, and the story of other sea mishaps, had a special
+attraction for the child, and the strength of her interest and
+compassion for the shipwrecked were noticed by her family as they sat
+round the family table of an evening, knitting, talking of the sea and
+watching the bright beacon above.
+
+So it was that Grace Darling grew to womanhood. She was twenty-two
+years old when the disaster came that made evident what sort of a girl
+had come to woman's years upon the solitary island.
+
+In the fall of the year, 1838, one fifth of September, a steamer,
+called the _Forfarshire_, a vessel of small size, but laden with a
+considerable cargo, sailed for Dundee, Scotland, from the port of
+Hull, England. There were forty-one passengers and twenty-two of the
+crew--sixty-three in all. The ship was but two years old, but her
+boilers were in bad order, although they had had some overhauling
+before she cleared her port.
+
+She sailed in the early evening and for a part of her way seemed to be
+steaming safely. But as the vessel neared Flamborough Head the captain
+and crew became disturbed by many anxieties. Word passed from mouth to
+mouth among the passengers that the leak of the boiler was growing
+rapidly and the firemen could with difficulty keep up the fires. So
+much did this delay the passage of the steamer that toward the
+evening of the following day she had only made the channel between the
+coast and the Farne Islands. The wind was blowing from the north. It
+is reported that the engines became utterly useless. There being great
+danger of drifting ashore, the sails were hoisted fore and aft, and
+the vessel got about in order to get her before the wind and keep her
+off the land. It rained heavily during the entire time, and the fog
+was so dense that it became impossible to tell the situation of the
+vessel. At length breakers were discovered close to leeward, and the
+Farne Light, which about the same period became visible, left no doubt
+as to the peril of all on board.
+
+Passengers crowded the deck and as rain beat upon them and the fog
+shut out all but the sad scene on board, friends and strangers pressed
+hands for support and sought hopeful words from one another's lips.
+The sails hoisted for a defence became useless for the purpose, the
+wind was rising to tempest strength, and all control over the vessel
+seemed gone. The sea was master and was tossing the helpless steamer
+in its waves, and, as the summer wind drives thistledown in its
+course, was driving her toward the light. The billows beat upon the
+frail timbers and every lurch and swell took the vessel nearer the
+island where the wild waters were breaking in foam.
+
+At length appeared in an opening of the fog a great rock, frightfully
+rugged, deadly to a ship weakened and in the power of the sea.
+Passengers and crew alike knew the spot, and they knew that unless
+some miracle prevailed the ship must go to pieces. There was a
+moment's delay, the sea seemed putting off its final victory, and then
+it brought the vessel with her bow foremost upon the rocks.
+
+A panic followed. All who had been below rushed to the deck and sought
+in the companionship of wretchedness an escape from threatening
+destruction. Some of the crew, determined to save themselves, lowered
+the larboard quarter boat, and left the ship. The boiling sea now
+swept over the decks.
+
+Very soon after the first shock a powerful wave struck the vessel on
+the quarter, and raising her off the rocks allowed her immediately
+after to fall violently upon it, the sharp edge striking her
+amidships. She was by this fairly broken in two pieces, and the after
+part, containing the cabin with many passengers was instantly carried
+off through a tremendous current, called the Piper Gut. The captain
+and his wife were among those who perished.
+
+The forepart still remained crushed upon the rocks. Upon its deck were
+eight unfortunate creatures--five sailors and three of the passengers.
+In the cabin below lay a woman huddling two children in her arms, a
+girl of eleven and a boy of eight. The waves washed through the cabin
+tearing off the clothing of the children and half freezing them with
+cold. The hideous noise of the tempest drowned their melancholy cries
+and at last they lay quiet and dead.
+
+At the Longstone Lighthouse the morning of the seventh of September
+broke mistily. The dwellers there were but three--the keeper and his
+wife and daughter. They were used to raging seas and driving winds,
+but this night had been one of anxiety. Grace, it is said, had been
+unable to sleep, and as she dozed toward morning had started up with a
+wail for help echoing in her ears. She roused her father and taking
+his field-glass sought the wreck which she felt must be near. The
+remains of the shattered vessel lying about a mile off met her eye,
+and dim figures clinging to the broken timbers. As the waters lashed
+the wreck it seemed as if each wave must sweep the forms into the sea.
+
+The hearts of all three of the lighthouse family sank. What could
+three do and the billows running mountains? William Darling shrank
+from attempting any rescue. He had been on other humane enterprises.
+But this seemed futile. At Grace's earnest plea the boat was launched,
+her father yielding to her entreaties, which his heart said were
+right. Grace sprang in--she knew how to handle an oar--and her father
+followed. She had never assisted in the boat before this wreck of the
+_Forfarshire_, but other members of the family had been present.
+
+Her mother, Mrs. Darling, had assisted in making the boat ready, but
+as her husband and daughter pushed off, and the waves washed the rock
+on which she stood, she cried with tears in her eyes:
+
+"Oh, Grace, if your father is lost, I'll blame you for this morning's
+work."
+
+Says one who told the story:
+
+"In estimating the dangers which heroic adventurers encounter, one
+circumstance ought not to be forgotten. Had it been at ebb tide the
+boat could not have passed between the islands; and Darling and his
+daughter knew that the tide would be flowing on their return, when
+their united strength would have been utterly insufficient to pull the
+boat back to the lighthouse island. Had they not got aid of the
+survivors in rowing back again, they themselves would have been
+compelled to remain on the rock beside the wreck until the tide ebbed
+again."
+
+The frail boat passed over the stormy waters and neared the rock.
+
+It could only have been by the exertion of muscular power as well as
+determined courage that the father and daughter carried the boat to
+the rock. And when there a danger, greater even than that which they
+had encountered in approaching it, arose from the difficulty of
+steadying the boat and preventing its being destroyed on those sharp
+ridges by the ever-restless chafing and heaving of the billows.
+
+The father and daughter could see the eager faces turned toward them,
+and the sight redoubled their efforts in reaching the rock, and in the
+task of disembarking and drawing the boat up the rock and out of reach
+of the waves. It was a perilous landing-place. But when the craft was
+secured the father and Grace approached the half-dead group.
+
+All were safe except the two children. Their mother was seemingly
+dead, also, and lay clasping the bodies in her arms. But care and
+attention revived her. A fireman who had lain for three hours on the
+rock where he had been tossed, had clung to a strong nail spiked in
+the rock, and though lashed and beaten by the waves, and tortured by
+bleeding hands, he had not let go.
+
+The rescuers placed the survivors one by one in the boat. But the
+return journey was even more perilous than that which took them to the
+wreck, although the sailors aided at the oars. Longstone, however, was
+at last reached and the sufferers housed in the lighthouse.
+
+They were in safety, but the violence of the sea forbade any attempt
+to reach the mainland. There were good accommodations at the light.
+The tower was ingeniously built, and besides a well-furnished
+sitting-room, in which was a capital collection of books, had three
+or four comfortable bedrooms. In addition there was an abundance of
+wholesome, homely fare.
+
+The poor woman who had lost her children was suffering intensely, and
+to her Grace gave up her bed, sleeping upon a table. A boat's crew
+from Northumberland, which after some hours came in search of the
+_Forfarshire_, also had to claim the hospitality of the lighthouse,
+and for three days were held by the raging seas. Finally, the passage
+to the mainland was undertaken in safety, and the news reached the
+keeper's family that the boat first launched had been picked up and
+its nine passengers rescued. Of the sixty-three who had sailed from
+Hull five days before, nineteen were alive.
+
+Within a few days search was made for the missing bodies, but almost
+in vain. The cargo of the steamer, which was of unusual value was
+wholly lost. The wreck, consisting of the engine, paddle-wheels,
+anchor, foremast and rigging, remained upon the rock and was visited
+by thousands.
+
+Report of Grace Darling's heroic deed was soon spread throughout
+England. It was a simple, humane action and such actions are doing
+among us all the time. But the courage in facing the elemental rage of
+the sea, and the helpful sympathy with the unfortunate which it made
+evident, appealed to the popular heart, and Grace became a people's
+heroine. Public subscriptions were at once set on foot to express by a
+splendid gift the universal sense of her deserts. Many smaller tokens
+also came to her. Among them was a silver medal which read:
+
+    Presented by the Glasgow Humane Society to Miss Grace Horsley
+    Darling, in admiration of her dauntless and heroic conduct in
+    saving (along with her father) the lives of nine persons from
+    the wreck of the _Forfarshire_ steamer, 7th September, 1838.
+
+So great was popular report and admiration for the heroine that the
+manager of a theatre broached to her the plan of representing the
+rescue, in part at least, upon his stage, and offered her a
+considerable sum for sitting in the boat for the audience to view. Her
+portrait was taken and sold everywhere. She was generally flattered
+and caressed.
+
+It was now that we find the true balance and strength in Grace's
+character. The testimonials she received with quiet pleasure. But she
+preferred to remain upon the solitary island under the light, and aid
+her mother in her simple household work.
+
+She was glad to have saved lives at the risk of her own, she said, and
+would most willingly do it again if opportunity should occur. But she
+could not feel that she had done anything great, and certainly she did
+not wish for the praise that had been bestowed upon her. As for going
+to the theatre to receive the plaudits of a curious crowd, that was
+the last thing she desired.
+
+Of Grace at this time the pleasing English writer, William Howitt,
+gives this account. He paid a visit to Longstone and met the heroine:
+
+"When I went she was not visible, and I was afraid I should not see
+her, as her father said she very much disliked meeting strangers that
+she thought came to stare at her; but when the old man and I had had a
+little conversation he went up to her room, and soon came down with a
+smile, saying that she would be with us soon. So when we had been up
+to the top lighthouse, and had seen its machinery, and taken a good
+look-out at the distant shore, and Darling had pointed out the spot of
+the wreck, and the way they took the people off, we went down and
+found Grace sitting at her sewing, very neatly but very simply
+dressed in a plain sort of striped print gown, with her watch-seal
+just seen at her side and her hair neatly braided--just, in fact, as
+such girls are dressed, only not quite so smart as they often are. She
+rose, very modestly, and with a pleasant smile said: 'How do you do,
+sir?'
+
+"Her figure is by no means striking--quite the contrary; but her face
+it full of sense, modesty and genuine goodness; and that is just the
+character she bears. Her prudence delights one. We are charmed that
+she should so well have supported the brilliancy of her humane deeds.
+It is confirmative of the notion that such actions must spring from
+genuine heart and mind."
+
+She had the sweetest smile, continued Mr. Howitt, that he had ever
+seen in a person of her station and appearance. "You see that she is a
+thoroughly good creature, and that under her modest exterior lies a
+spirit capable of the most exalted devotion, a devotion so entire that
+daring is not so much a quality of her nature, as that the most
+perfect sympathy with suffering or endangered humanity swallows up and
+annihilates everything like fear or self-consideration, puts out, in
+fact, every sentiment but itself."
+
+As we read above Grace was slight of frame, and not markedly robust.
+Barely three years after the wreck at which her pity and heroism had
+won her world-wide fame, she showed evidences of decline. Toward the
+close of 1841 she was taken from Longstone and placed under the care
+of a doctor in Bamborough. Not gaining in strength she begged to be
+moved to Wooler, a small market town on the border of Northumberland,
+where the scenery is of the Cheviot Hills--of sunny heights and wooded
+glens. But even here the clear bracing air had little help for her
+illness, and after meeting her father and considering her failing
+strength, with his advice she returned to Bamborough. Her eldest
+sister nursed her with devotion, but it was evident her life was
+fading.
+
+Throughout her illness she never murmured and never complained, we are
+are told, and shortly before her death she expressed a wish to see as
+many of her relations as the peculiar nature of their employment would
+admit, and with surprising fortitude and self-command she delivered to
+each one of them some token of remembrance. This done she calmly
+awaited the approach of death; and finally, on October 20, 1842,
+resigned her spirit without a murmur.
+
+Two stones have been raised to her memory, one in the Bamborough
+churchyard, her figure lying at length; and another in the chapel of
+St. Cuthbert, on one of the Farne Islands, and bearing this memorial:
+
+                 TO THE MEMORY OF
+              Grace Horsley Darling
+    A NATIVE OF BAMBOROUGH AND AN INHABITANT
+                 OF THESE ISLANDS
+           WHO DIED OCTOBER 20TH, 1842,
+                  AGED 26 YEARS.
+
+But the best memorial of a heroine is the inspiration her example
+offers to her own generation and those that succeed her, the love her
+deeds engender in other hearts, the enlarging and uplifting of our
+kind through her endeavour. And so it is that the heroine of Farne
+Islands has become a lovely memory to us, and to those who shall come
+after us.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+SISTER DORA
+
+
+Dorothy Wyndlow Pattison was born on January 15th, 1832. She was the
+youngest daughter, and the youngest child but one, of the Rev. Mark
+Pattison, who was for many years Rector of Hauxwell, near Richmond, in
+Yorkshire. She inherited from her father, who was of a Devonshire
+family, that finely proportioned and graceful figure which she always
+maintained; and from her mother, who was the daughter of a banker in
+Richmond, those lovely features which drew forth the admiration of
+everyone who had the pleasure of knowing her.
+
+Her father was a good and sincere man. He was thoroughly upright and
+strict.
+
+Dora and her sister, like a thousand other country parsons' daughters,
+were of the utmost use in their father's Yorkshire parish. A French
+gentleman who had lived a while in England and in the country, said to
+me one day:
+
+"Your young ladies astound me. They are angels of mercy. They wear no
+distinguishing habit; one does not see their wings, yet they fly
+everywhere, and everywhere bring grace and love and peace--in my
+country such a thing would be impossible."
+
+These Pattison girls were for ever saving their pocket money to give
+it away, and they made it a rule to mend and remake their old frocks,
+so as not to have to buy new ones out of their allowance for clothes,
+so as to have more to give. Even their dinners they would reserve for
+poor people, and content themselves with bread and cheese. "Giving to
+others instead of spending on themselves seems to have been the rule
+and delight of their lives."
+
+A pretty story is told of Dorothy at this time. A schoolboy in the
+village, who was especially attached to her, fell ill of rheumatic
+fever. The boy's one longing was to see "Miss Dora" again, but she was
+abroad on the Continent. As he grew worse and worse, he constantly
+prayed that he might live long enough to see her. On the day on which
+she was expected, he sat up on his pillows intently listening, and at
+last, long before anyone else could hear a sound of wheels, he
+exclaimed: "There she is!" and sank back. She went to him at once, and
+nursed him till he died.
+
+Her beauty was very great: large brilliant, brown eyes, full red lips,
+a firm chin and a finely cut profile; her hair dark, and slightly
+curling, waved all over her head; and the remarkable beauty and
+delicacy of her colouring and complexion, added to the liveliness of
+her expression, made her a fascinating creature to behold. Her father
+always called her "Little Sunshine."
+
+But the most remarkable feature about her was to be found in her inner
+being. A will, which no earthly power could subdue, enabled her to
+accomplish an almost superhuman work; yet at times it was to her a
+faculty that brought her into difficulties. She was twenty-nine before
+she was able to find real scope for her energies, and then she took a
+bold step--answered an advertisement from a clergyman for a lady to
+take the village school. Her mother had died in 1861, and she
+considered herself free from duties that bound her to her home. Her
+father did not relish the step she took, but acquiesced. She went to
+Woolston, and remained there three years, during which time she won
+the hearts, not of the children only, but of their parents as well.
+She had to live alone in a cottage, and do everything for her self;
+but the people never for a moment doubted she was a real lady, and
+always treated her with great respect.
+
+Not thinking a little village school sufficient field for her
+energies, she resolved to join a nursing sisterhood at Redcar, in
+Yorkshire. The life was not quite suited to her strong will, but it
+did her good. She there learned how to make beds and to cook. At first
+she literally sat down and cried when the beds which she had just put
+in order were all pulled to pieces by some superior authority, who did
+not approve of the method in which they were made. But it was a useful
+lesson for her after life in a hospital. She was there till the early
+part of 1865, and then was sent to Walsall to help at a small cottage
+hospital, which had already been established for more than a year.
+
+Walsall, though not in the "Black Country," is in a busy manufacturing
+district, chiefly of iron. At the time when Sister Dora went there it
+contained a population of 35,000 inhabitants. It is now connected with
+Birmingham by almost continuous houses and pits and furnaces.
+
+As fresh coal and iron pits were being opened in the district around
+Walsall, accidents became more frequent, and it was found
+impracticable to send those injured to Birmingham, which was seven
+miles distant; Accordingly, in 1863, the Town Council invited the
+Redcar Society to start a hospital there. When the Sister who had
+begun the work fell ill, Sister Dora was sent in her place, and almost
+directly caught small-pox from the outpatients. She was very ill, and
+even in her delirium showed the bent of her mind by ripping her sheets
+into strips to serve as bandages.
+
+When the cottage hospital--which was the second of its kind in
+England--was opened, the system of voluntary nursing was unknown; the
+only voluntary nurses heard of then being those who had gone out to
+the Crimea with Miss Florence Nightingale. Therefore a good deal of
+misunderstanding was the result; but in the course of time people
+began to judge the institution by its results. But Sister Dora, by her
+frank, open manner, disarmed suspicion, while the sublime eloquence of
+noble deeds silenced tongues, and won for the hospital the confidence
+of the public, and for herself the admiration and affection of the
+people.
+
+In 1866 she had a serious illness, brought on by exposure to wet and
+cold. She would come home from dressing wounds in the cottages, wet
+through and hot with hurrying along the streets, to find a crowd of
+outpatients awaiting her return at the hospital, and she would attend
+to them in total disregard of herself, and allow her wet clothes to
+dry on her.
+
+This neglect occurred once too often; a chill settled on her, and for
+three weeks she was dangerously ill. Then it was that the people of
+Walsall began to realise what she was, and the door of the hospital
+was besieged by poor people come to inquire how their "Sister Dora"
+was.
+
+The hospital had moved men of every shade of politics, and every form
+of religious belief, to the work, and there have been passages in its
+history not pleasant to remember, but not one of these in the
+remotest degree involved Sister Dora. On the contrary, her presence
+and counsel always brought light and peace, and lifted every question
+into a higher sphere. "Ask Sister Dora," it used to be said. "Had we
+not better send for Sister Dora" some member would exclaim out of the
+fog of contention. Thereupon she would appear; and many well remember
+how calmly self-possessed, and clear-sighted she would stand--never
+sit down. Indeed, there were those who worked with her fifteen years
+who never saw her seated; she would stand, usually with her hand on
+the back of the chair which had been placed for her, every eye
+directed to her; nor was it ever many moments before she had grasped
+the whole question, and given her opinion just as clearly and simply
+and straight to the purpose as any opinion given to the sufferers in
+the wards. Nor was she ever wrong; nor did she ever fail of her
+purpose with the committee. No committeemen ever questioned or
+differed from Sister Dora, yet in her was the charm of unconsciousness
+of power or superiority and the impression left was of there being no
+feeling of pleasure in her, other than the triumph of the right.
+
+In 1867 the cottage hospital had to be abandoned, as erysipelas broke
+out and would not be expelled. The wards were evidently impregnated
+with malignant germs to such an extent that the committee resolved to
+build a new hospital in a better situation.
+
+Sister Dora's work became more engrossing when this larger field was
+opened for it; the men's beds were constantly full, and even the
+women's ward was hardly ever entirely empty.
+
+Just at this period an epidemic of small-pox broke out in Walsall,
+and all the energies of Sister Dora were called into play. She visited
+the cottages where the patients lay, and nursed them or saw to their
+being supplied with what they needed; whilst at the same time carrying
+on her usual work at the hospital.
+
+One night she was sent for by a poor man who was dying of what she
+called "black-pox," a violent form of small-pox. She went at once, and
+found him in the last extremity. All his relations had fled, and a
+neighbour alone was with him. When Sister Dora found that only one
+small piece of candle was left in the house, she gave the woman some
+money, begging her to go and buy some means of light whilst she stayed
+with the man. She sat on by his bed, but the woman, who had probably
+spent the money at the public house, never returned; and after some
+little while the dying man raised himself up in bed with a last
+effort, saying, "Sister, kiss me before I die." She took him, all
+covered as he was with the loathsome disease, into her arms and kissed
+him, the candle going out almost as she did so, leaving them in total
+darkness. He implored her not to leave him while he lived, although he
+might have known she would never do that. So she sat through the
+night, till the early dawn breaking in revealed that the man was dead.
+
+When the bell at the head of her bed rang at night she rose at once,
+saying to herself, "The Master is come, and calleth for thee!" Indeed,
+she loved to think that she was ministering to her Lord in the person
+of His poor and sick.
+
+Here is a letter from a former patient in the hospital, from which
+only a short extract can be made:
+
+"I had not been there above a week when Sister Dora found me a little
+bell, as there was not one to my bed, and she said, 'Enoch, you must
+ring this bell when you want sister.' This little bell did not have
+much rest, for whenever I heard her step or the tinkle of her keys in
+the hall I used to ring my bell, and she would call out, 'I'm coming,
+Enoch,' which she did, and would say, 'What do you want?' I often used
+to say, 'I don't know, Sister,' not really knowing what I did want.
+She'd say, 'Do you want your pillows shaken up, or do you want moving
+a little?' which she'd do, whatever it was, and say, 'Do you feel
+quite cosey now?' 'Yes, Sister.' Then she would start to go into the
+other ward, but very often before she could get through the door I'd
+call her back and say my pillow wasn't quite right, or that my leg
+wanted moving a little. She would come and do it, whatever it was, and
+say, 'Will that do?' 'Yes, Sister.' Then she'd go about her work, but
+at the very next sound of her step my bell would ring, and so often as
+my bell rang Sister would come; and some of the other patients would
+often remark that I should wear that little bell out or Sister, and
+she'd say, 'Never mind, for I like to hear it, and it's never too
+often.' And it rang so often that I've heard Sister say that she often
+dreamt she heard my little bell and started up in a hurry to find it
+was a dream."
+
+Sister Dora said once to a friend, who was engaging a servant for the
+hospital:
+
+"Tell her this is not an ordinary house, or even a hospital. I want
+her to understand that all who serve here, in whatever capacity, ought
+to have one rule, _love for God_, and then, I need not say, love for
+their work."
+
+She spoke often and with intense earnestness, on the duty, the
+necessity, of prayer. It was literally true that she never touched a
+wound without raising her heart to God and entreating him to bless the
+means employed. As years glided away, she became able almost to fulfil
+the Apostle's command: "Pray without ceasing." And her prayers were
+animated by the most intense faith--an absolutely unshaken conviction
+of their efficacy. It may truly be said that those who pray become
+increasingly more sure of the value of prayer. They find that,
+whatever men may say about the reign of law and the order of nature,
+earnest prayer does bring an answer, often in a marvellous manner. The
+praying man or woman is never shaken in his or her trust in the
+efficacy of prayer. She firmly held to the supernatural power, put
+into the hands of men by means of the weapon of prayer; and the
+practical faithlessness in this respect of the world at large was an
+ever-increasing source of surprise and distress to her.
+
+Since her death, in commemoration of her labours at Walsall, a very
+beautiful statue has been there erected to her, and on the pedestal
+are bas-reliefs representing incidents in her life there. One of these
+illustrates a terrible explosion that took place in the Birchett's
+Iron Works, on Friday, October 15, 1875, whereby eleven men were so
+severely burnt that only two survived. All the others died after their
+admission into the hospital. It came about thus: The men were at work
+when water escaped from the "twyer" and fell upon the molten iron in
+the furnace and was at once resolved into steam that blew out the
+front of the furnace, and also the molten iron, which fell upon the
+men. Some suffered frightful agonies, but the shock to the nervous
+systems of others had stupefied them. The sight and the smell were
+terrible. Ladies who volunteered their help could not endure it, and
+were forced to withdraw, some not getting beyond the door of the ward.
+But Sister Dora was with the patients incessantly till they died,
+giving them water, bandaging their wounds, or cutting away the sodden
+clothes that adhered to the burnt flesh. Some lingered on for ten
+days, but in all this time she never deserted the fetid atmosphere of
+the ward, never went to bed.
+
+She had so much to do with burns that she became specially skilful in
+treating them. Children terribly burnt or scalded were constantly
+brought to the hospital; often men came scalded from a boiler, or by
+molten metal. She dressed their wounds herself, but, if possible,
+always sent the patients to be tended at home, where she would visit
+them and regularly dress their wounds, rather than have the wards
+tainted by the effluvium from the burns. Her treatment of burnt
+children merits quotation.
+
+"If a large surface of the body was burnt, or if the child seemed
+beside itself with terror, she did not touch the wounds themselves,
+but only carefully excluded the air from them by means of cotton wool
+and blankets wrapped around the body. She put hot bottles and flannel
+to the feet, and, if necessary, ice to the head. Then she gave her
+attention to soothing and consoling the shocked nerves--a state which
+she considered to be often a more immediate source of danger to the
+life of the child than the actual injuries. She fed it with milk and
+brandy, unless it violently refused food, when she would let it alone
+until it came round, saying that force, or anything which involved
+even a slight further shock to the system, was worse than useless.
+Sometimes, of course, the fatal sleep of exhaustion, from which there
+was no awakening, would follow; but more often than not food was
+successfully administered, and after a few hours, Sister Dora, having
+gained the child's confidence, could dress the wounds without fear of
+exciting the frantic terror which would have been the result of
+touching them at first."
+
+Children Sister Dora dearly loved; her heart went out to them with
+infinite tenderness, and she was even known to sleep with a burnt baby
+on each arm. What that means only those know who have had experience
+of the sickening smell arising from burns.
+
+Once a little girl of nine was brought into the hospital so badly
+burnt that it was obvious she had not many hours to live. Sister Dora
+sat by her bed talking to her of Jesus Christ and His love for little
+children, and of the blessed home into which he would receive them.
+The child died peacefully, and her last words were: "Sister, when you
+come to heaven, I'll meet you at the gates with a bunch of flowers."
+
+One of the most heroic of her many heroic acts was taking charge of
+the small-pox hospital when a second epidemic broke out.
+
+Mr. S. Welsh says: "In the spring of 1875 there was a second
+visitation of the disease, and fears were entertained that the results
+would be as bad as during the former visitation. One morning Sister
+Dora came to me and said, 'Do you know, I have an idea that if some
+one could be got to go to the epidemic hospital in whom the people
+have confidence, they would send their friends to be nursed, the
+patients would be isolated, and the disease stamped out.'" This was
+because a prejudice was entertained against the new small-pox
+hospital, and those who had sick concealed the fact rather than send
+them to it. "I said," continues Mr. Welsh, "'I have long been of the
+opinion you have just expressed; but where are we to get a lady, in
+whom the people would have confidence, to undertake the duty?'
+
+"Her prompt reply was, 'I will go.'
+
+"I confess the sudden announcement of her determination rather took me
+by surprise, for I had no expectation of it, and not the least remote
+idea that she intended to go. 'But,' I said, 'who will take charge of
+the hospital if you go there?'
+
+"'Oh,' she replied, 'I can get plenty of ladies to come there, but
+none will go to the epidemic. And', she added, by way of reconciling
+me to her view, 'it will only be for a short time.'
+
+"'But what if you were to take the disease and die?' I inquired.
+
+"'Then,' she added, in her cheery way, 'I shall have died in the path
+of duty, and, you know, I could not die better.'
+
+"I knew it was no use pointing out at length the risk she ran, for
+where it was a case of saving others, _self_ with her was no
+consideration. I tried to dissuade her on other grounds.... A few days
+later I was in company with the doctor of the hospital, who was also
+medical officer of health, and who, as such, had charge of the
+epidemic hospital, near to which we were at the time. He said, 'Do you
+know where Sister Dora is?' 'At the hospital I suppose,' was my reply.
+'No,' he rejoined, 'she is over there!' pointing to the epidemic
+hospital....
+
+"The people as soon as they knew Sister Dora was in charge, had no
+misgiving about sending their relatives to be nursed, and the result
+was as she had predicted; the cases were brought in as soon as it was
+discovered that patients had the disease, and the epidemic was
+speedily stamped out."
+
+She had, however, a hard time of it there, as she lacked assistants.
+Two women were sent from the work-house, but they proved of little
+use. The porter, an old soldier, was attentive and kind in his way,
+but he always went out "on a spree" on Saturday nights, and did not
+return till late on Sunday evening. When the work-house women failed
+her she was sometimes alone with her patients, and these occasionally
+in the delirium of small-pox.
+
+It was not till the middle of August, 1875, that the last small-pox
+patient departed from the hospital, and she was able to return to her
+original work.
+
+One of the bas-reliefs on her monument represents Sister Dora
+consoling the afflicted and the scene depicted refers to a dreadful
+colliery accident that occurred on March 14, 1872, at Pelsall, a
+village rather over three miles from Walsall, by which twenty-two men
+were entombed, and all perished. For several days hopes were
+entertained that some of the men would be got out alive; and blankets
+in which to wrap them, and restoratives, were provided, and Sister
+Dora was sent for to attend the men when brought to "bank." The
+following extract, from an article by a special correspondent in a
+newspaper, dated Dec 10, 1872, will give some idea of Sister Dora's
+connection with the event:
+
+    Out of doors the scene is weird and awful, and impresses the
+    mind with a peculiar gloom; for the intensity of the darkness is
+    heightened by the shades created by the artificial lights. Every
+    object, the most minute, stands out in bold relief against the
+    inky darkness which surrounds the landscape. On the crest of the
+    mound or pit-bank, the policemen, like sentinels, are walking
+    their rounds. The wind is howling and whistling through the
+    trees which form a background to the pit-bank, and the rain is
+    coming hissing down in sheets. In a hovel close to the pit shaft
+    sit the bereaved and disconsolate mourners, hoping against hope,
+    and watching for those who will never return. There, too, are
+    the swarthy sons of toil who have just returned from their
+    fruitless search in the mine for the dear missing ones, and are
+    resting while their saturated clothes are drying.
+
+    But another form glides softly from that hovel; and amid the
+    pelting rain, and over the rough pit-bank, and through miry
+    clay--now ankle deep--takes her course to the dwellings of the
+    mourners, for some, spent with watching, have been induced to
+    return to their homes. As she plods her way amid pieces of
+    timber, upturned wagons and fragments of broken machinery, which
+    are scattered about in great confusion, a "wee, wee bairn"
+    creeps gently to her side, and grasping her hand and looking
+    wistfully into her face, which is radiant with kindness and
+    affection, says, "Oh, Sister, do see to my father when they
+    bring him up the pit." Poor child! Never again would he know a
+    father's love, or share a father's care. She smiled, and that
+    smile seemed to lighten the child's load of grief, and her
+    promise to see to his father appeared to impart consolation to
+    his heavy, despairing heart.
+
+    On she glides, with a kind word or a sympathetic expression to
+    all. One woman, after listening to her comforting words, burst
+    into tears--the fountains of sorrow so long pent up seemed to
+    have found vent. "Let her weep," said a relative of the
+    unfortunate woman; "it is the first tear she has shed since the
+    accident has occurred, and it will do her good to cry." But who
+    is the good Samaritan? She is the sister who for seven years has
+    had the management of the nursing department in the cottage
+    hospital at Walsall.
+
+This is written in too much of the "special correspondent" style to be
+pleasant; nevertheless it describes what actually took place.
+
+Mr. Samuel Welsh says: "I remember one evening I was in the hospital
+when a poor man who had been dreadfully crushed in a pit was brought
+in. One of his legs was so fearfully injured that it was thought it
+would be necessary to amputate it. After examining the patient, the
+doctor came to me in the committee-room--one door of which opened into
+the passage leading to the wards and another into the hall in the
+domestic portion of the building. After telling me about the patient
+who had just been brought in, he said, 'Do you know Sister Dora is
+very ill? So ill,' he continued, 'that I question if she will pull
+through this time.' I naturally inquired what she was suffering from,
+and in reply the doctor said, 'She will not take care of herself, and
+is suffering from blood-poison.' He left me, and I was just trying to
+solve the problem--'What shall be done? or how shall her place be
+supplied if she be taken from us by death?' when I saw a spectral-like
+figure gliding gently and almost noiselessly through the room from the
+domestic entrance to the door leading to the wards. The figure was
+rather indistinct, for it was nearly dark; and as I gazed at the
+receding form, I said, 'Sister, is it you?' 'Whist!' she said, and
+glided through the doorway into the wards. In a short time she
+returned, and I said to her, 'Sister, the doctor has just been telling
+me how ill you are--how is it you are here?' 'Ah!' replied, she 'it is
+true I am very ill; but I heard the surgeons talking about amputating
+that poor fellow's limb, and I wanted to see whether or not there was
+a possibility of saving it, and I believe there is; and, knowing that,
+I shall rest better.' So saying, she glided as noiselessly out of the
+room as when she entered.
+
+"On her recovery--which was retarded by her neglecting herself to
+attend to others--she called me one day to the hall-door of the
+hospital, and asked me if I thought it was going to rain. I told her I
+did not think it would rain for some hours. She then told me to go
+and order a cab to be ready at the hospital in half an hour. I tried
+to persuade her not to venture out so soon; but it was no use--she
+went; and many a time I wondered where she went to.
+
+"About six months afterward I happened to be at a railway station, and
+saw a pointsman who had been in our hospital with an injured foot, but
+who, as his friends wished to have him at home, had left before his
+foot was cured. I inquired how his foot was. He replied that had it
+not been for Sister Dora he would have lost his foot, if not his life.
+I said, 'How did she save your foot when you were not in the hospital,
+and she was ill at the time you left the hospital?' 'Well,' he
+replied, 'you know my foot was far from well when I left the hospital;
+there was no one at our house who could see to it properly, and it
+took bad ways, and one evening I was in awful pain. Oh, how I did wish
+for Sister Dora to come and dress it! I felt sure she could give me
+relief, but I had been told she was very ill, so I had no hope that my
+earnest desire would be realised; but while I was thinking and
+wishing, the bedroom door was gently opened, and a figure just like
+Sister Dora glided so softly into the room that I could not hear her,
+but oh! she was so pale that I began to think it must be her spirit
+but when she folded the bedclothes from off my foot, I knew it was
+she. She dressed my foot, and from that hour it began to improve.'
+
+"A few days after this interview with the pointsman I was talking to
+Sister Dora, and said: 'By the bye, Sister, I have found out where you
+went with the cab that day.' She replied with a merry twinkle in her
+eye, 'What a long time you have been finding it out!'"
+
+Her old patients ever remembered her with gratitude. A man called
+Chell, an engine-stoker, was twice in the hospital under her care,
+first with a dislocated ankle, severely cut; the second time with a
+leg crushed to pieces in a railway accident. It was amputated.
+According to his own account he remembered nothing of the operation,
+except that Sister Dora was there, and that, "When I come to after the
+chloroform, she was on her knees by my side with her arm supporting my
+head, and she was repeating:
+
+    "'They climbed the steep ascent of heaven,
+      Through peril, toil and pain:
+    O God, to us may grace be given
+      To follow in their train.'
+
+And all through the pain and trouble that I had afterward, I never
+forgot Sister's voice saying those words." When she was in the
+small-pox hospital, avoided by most, this man never failed to stump
+away to it to see her and inquire how she was getting on.
+
+There were, as she herself recognised, faults in the character of
+Sister Dora; and yet, without these faults, problematical as it may
+seem, it is doubtful whether she could have achieved all she did.
+
+One who knew her long and intimately writes to me "A majestic
+character, brimming over with sympathy, but, for lack of
+self-discipline, this sympathy was impulsive and gushing. Her glorious
+nature, physical and mental, was marred by undisciplined impulse. Her
+nature found its congenial outlet in devoted works of mercy and love
+to her fellow creatures. How far she would have done the same under
+authority, I fear is a little doubtful."
+
+Miss Twigg, who knew her well, writes me: "She was a lovable woman,
+so bright and winsome. She used to come into our rather dull and sad
+home (our mother died when we were quite children) after evening
+service. She would nurse one of us, big as we were then, and the
+others would gather round her, while she would tell us stories of her
+hospital life.... She was a _real_ woman."
+
+There is one point in Sister Dora's life to which sufficient attention
+has not been paid by her biographers. It is one which the busy workers
+of the present day think of too little--namely, the writing of bright,
+helpful letters to any friend who is sick or in trouble. Somehow or
+other she always found time for that, wrote one who knew her well, and
+who contributes the following, written to a young girl who was at the
+time in a spinal hospital, and who was almost a stranger to her:
+
+    MY DEAR MISS J.--I was so glad to hear from you, though I fear
+    it must be a trouble for you to write. I _do_ hope that you will
+    really have benefited by the treatment and rest. I am so glad
+    that the doctor is good to his "children." Such little
+    attentions when you are sick help to alleviate wonderfully. I
+    wish I could come and take a peep at you. Did Mrs. N. tell you
+    that she had sent us five pounds for our seaside expedition? Was
+    it not good of her? Oh! we shall have such a jolly time. To see
+    all those poor creatures drink in the sea-breezes! We have had a
+    very busy week of accidents and operations. It has been a
+    regular storm.[A] My dear, it is in such times as you are now
+    having that the voice of Jesus Christ can be best heard, "Come
+    into a desert place awhile." Know you surely that it is God's
+    visitation. Take home that thought, realise it: God _visiting
+    you_. Elizabeth was astonished that the Mother of her Lord
+    should visit her. We can have our Emmanuel. I can look back on
+    my sicknesses as the best times of my life. Don't fret about the
+    future. He carrieth our sicknesses and healeth our infirmities.
+    You know infirmity means weakness after sickness. Think of the
+    cheering lines of our hymn: "His touch has still its ancient
+    power." When I arose up from my sick bed they told me I should
+    never be able to enter a hospital or do work again. I was
+    fretting over this when a good friend came to me, and told me
+    only to take a day's burden and not look forward, and it was
+    such a help. I got up every day feeling sure I should have
+    strength and grace for the day's trial. May it be said of you,
+    dear, "They took knowledge of her that she had been with Jesus."
+    May He reveal Himself in all His beauty is the prayer of
+
+                                      Your sincere friend,
+                                                     SISTER DORA.
+
+It does not truly represent Sister Dora to dwell on her outer life,
+and not look as well into that which is within, as it was the very
+mainspring of all her actions, as it, in fact, made her what she was.
+
+The same writer to the _Guardian_ gives some sentences from other
+letters: "Take your cross day by day, dearie, and with Jesus Christ
+bearing the other end it will not be _too_ heavy." "If we could find
+Jesus, it must be on a mountain, not in the plains or smooth places."
+"He went up into a mountain and taught them, saying," etc. "It is only
+on a mountain side that we shall see the cross. It was only after
+Zacchaeus had _climbed_ the tree he could see Jesus. I have been
+thinking much of this lately. It is not in the smooth places we shall
+see Jesus, it is in the rough, in the storm, or by the sick couch." "A
+Christian is one whose object is Christ." "I am rejoiced that you are
+enjoying Faber's hymns; they always _warm_ me up. Oh, my dear, is it
+not sad that we prefer to live in the shade when we might have the
+glorious sunshine?"
+
+It was during the winter of 1876-77 that Sister Dora felt the first
+approach of the terrible disease that was to cause her death, and then
+it was rather by diminution of strength than by actual pain. She
+consulted a doctor in Birmingham, in whom she placed confidence, and
+he told her the plain truth, that her days in this world were
+numbered. She exacted from him a pledge of secrecy, and then went on
+with her work as hitherto.
+
+"She was suddenly brought, as it were, face to face with
+death--distant, perhaps, but inevitable; she, who was full of such
+exuberant life and spirit that the very word 'death' seemed a
+contradiction when applied to her. Even her doctor, as he looked at
+her blooming appearance, and measured with his eye her finely made
+form, was almost inclined to believe the evidence of his outward
+senses against his sober judgment.... She could not endure pity. She,
+to whom everybody had learnt instinctively to turn for help and
+consolation, on whom others leant for support, must she now come down
+to ask of them sympathy and comfort? The pride of life was still
+surging up in her, that pride which had made her glory in her physical
+strength for its own sake, as well as for its manifold uses in the
+service of her Master. True, she had been long living two lives
+inseparably blended: the outward life of hard, unceasing toil; the
+inner, a constant communion with the unseen world, the existence of
+which she realised to an extent which not even those who saw the most
+of her could appreciate. To all the poor, ignorant beings whose souls
+she tried to reach by means of their maimed bodies, she was, indeed,
+the personification of all that they could conceive as lovable, holy
+and merciful in the Saviour. At the same time she judged her own self
+with strict impartiality. She knew her own faults, her unbending
+will--her pride and glory in her work seemed to her even a fault; and,
+in place of looking on herself as perfect she was bowed down with a
+sense of her own short-comings. At the same time--with death before
+her, she hungered for more work for her Master. His words were
+continually on her lips: 'I must work the works of Him that sent me
+while it is day; the night cometh when no man can work.'"
+
+At last, in the month of August, 1878, typhoid fever having broken out
+in the temporary hospital, it was found necessary to close it, and
+hasten on the work of the construction of another. This gave her an
+opportunity for a holiday and a complete change. She went to the Isle
+of Man, to London, and to Paris.
+
+But the disorder was making rapid strides, and was causing her intense
+suffering, and she craved to be back at Walsall. She got as far as
+Birmingham, and was then in such a critical state that it was feared
+she would die. But her earnest entreaty was to be taken to Walsall.
+"Let me die," she pleaded, "among my own people."
+
+Mr. Welsh says: "On calling at the Queen's Hotel, Birmingham (where
+she was lying ill), I was told the doctor of the hospital (Dr.
+Maclachlan) was with her, and thinking they were probably arranging
+matters connected with the hospital, I did not go to her room, but
+proceeded to the train. I had scarcely got seated when the doctor
+called me out, and we entered a compartment where we were alone. He
+asked me when it was intended to open the hospital. I replied, 'On the
+4th of November.' 'Then,' he said, 'that will just be about the same
+time Sister Dora will die.'
+
+"The announcement was to me a shock of no ordinary kind, for I had not
+heard of her being ill, and no one could have imagined, from the
+cheerful tone of a letter I had received from her a week or so
+before, that there was anything the matter with her. Not being able to
+fully realise the true state of affairs, I asked him if he were
+jesting. He replied he was not, and that he thought it best to let me
+know at once, so that arrangements might be made for getting someone
+to take her place when the hospital was opened. I said, 'I suppose she
+is going to Yorkshire?' 'No,' he replied, 'and that is another thing I
+wish to speak to you about. She wishes to die in Walsall, and she must
+be removed immediately.'
+
+"On Sunday (the day following) I saw the chairman and vice-chairman of
+the hospital. On Sunday evening I returned with Dr. Maclachlan to the
+Queen's Hotel, where he found his patient very weak. On Monday morning
+a house was taken, and the furniture she had in her rooms at the
+hospital removed to it. Her old servant who had gone to The Potteries,
+was telegraphed for, and arrived in a few hours, and by midday the
+house was ready for her reception. My daughter, knowing Sister Dora's
+fondness for flowers, had procured and placed on the table in the
+parlour a very choice bouquet; and when all was ready Dr. Maclachlan
+drove over to Birmingham, and brought her to Walsall in his private
+carriage.
+
+"The disease was now making steady progress, and it was evident that
+every day she was becoming weaker; but she never lost her
+cheerfulness, and anyone to have seen her might have thought she was
+only suffering from some slight ailment, instead of an incurable and
+painful disease."
+
+"A few hours before her death," writes Mr. S. Welsh "she called me to
+her bedside and said, 'I want you to promise that you will not, when I
+am gone, write anything about me; _quietly I came among you and,
+quietly I wish to go away_.'" And this desire of hers would have been
+faithfully complied with had not misrepresentations fired the
+gentleman to whom the request was made to take up his pen, not in
+defence of her, but in the correction of statements that affected
+certain persons who were alive.
+
+In her last sickness when she found her end approaching, she insisted
+on every one leaving the room--it was her wish to die alone. And as
+she persisted, so was it, only one nurse standing by the door held
+ajar, and watching till she knew by the change of attitude, and a
+certain fixed look in the countenance, that Sister Dora had entered
+into her rest.[B]
+
+"It was Christmas Eve when she passed away, and a dense fog, like a
+funeral pall, hung over the town and obscured every object a few feet
+from the ground. Under this strange canopy the market was being held,
+and people were busy buying and selling, and making preparations for
+the great Christmas festival on the following day; but when the deep
+boom of the passing bell announced the melancholy intelligence that
+Sister Dora had entered into her rest, a thrill of horror ran through
+the people, who, with blanched cheeks and bated breath, whispered,
+'Can it be true?' Although for seven weeks the process of dissolution
+had been going on before their eyes, they could not realise the fact
+that she whom they loved and revered was no more."
+
+The funeral took place on Saturday, the 28th of December. "The day
+was dark and dismal, the streets, covered with slush and sludge caused
+by the melted snow, were thronged with spectators.... There was
+general mourning in the town; and although it was market day nearly
+every shop was closed during the time of the funeral, and all the
+blinds along the route of the procession were drawn.... On reaching
+the cemetery it was found that four other funerals had arrived from
+the workhouse; and as these coffins had been taken into the chapel
+there was no room for Sister Dora's, which had, consequently, to be
+placed in the porch. This was as Sister Dora would have wished, had
+she had the ordering of the arrangements, for she always gave
+preference to the poor, to whom she was attached in life, and from
+whom she would not have desired to be separated in death."
+
+True to her thought of others, in the midst of her last sufferings,
+she had made arrangements for a Christmas dinner to be given to a
+number of her old patients, in accordance with a custom of hers in
+previous years; but on this occasion the festive proceedings were
+shorn of their gladness. All thought of her who in her pain and on her
+deathbed had thought of them. Every one tried, but ineffectually, to
+cheer and comfort the other, but the task was hopeless. One young
+lady, after the meal, and while the Christmas tree was being lighted
+commenced singing the pretty little piece, "Far Away," but when she
+came to the words:
+
+    Some are gone from us forever
+    Longer here they could not stay,
+
+she burst into tears; and the women present sobbed, and tears were
+seen stealing down the cheeks of bearded men.
+
+The Walsall writer of "A Review" concludes his paper thus:
+
+    She is no idol to us, but we worship her memory as the most
+    saintly thing that was ever given us. Her name is immortalised,
+    both by her own surpassing goodness, and by the love of a whole
+    people for her--a love that will survive through generations,
+    and give a magic and a music to those simple words, "Sister
+    Dora," long after we shall have passed away. There was little we
+    could ever do--there was nothing she would let us do--to relieve
+    the self-imposed rigours of her life; but we love her in all
+    sincerity, and now in our helplessness we find a serene joy in
+    the knowledge that to her, as surely as to any human soul, will
+    be spoken the divine words: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto
+    the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me."
+
+In Sister Dora, surely we have the highest type of the Christian life,
+the inner and hidden life of the soul, the life that is hid in God,
+combined with that outer life devoted to the doing of good to
+suffering and needy humanity. In the cloistered nun we see only the
+first, and that tends to become self-centred and morbid; it is
+redeemed from this vice by an active life of self-sacrifice.
+
+I cannot do better than, in conclusion, quote from the last letter
+ever penned by Sister Dora:
+
+"It is 2.30 A.M., and I cannot sleep, so I am going to write to you. I
+was anything but 'forbearing,' dear; I was overbearing, and I am truly
+sorry for it now. I look back on my life and see 'nothing but leaves.'
+Oh, my darling, let me speak to you from my deathbed, and say, watch
+in all you do that you have a single aim--_God's_ honour and glory. 'I
+came not to work my own work, but the works of Him that sent me.' Look
+upon working as a privilege. Do not look upon nursing in the way they
+do so much nowadays, as an art or science, but as work done for
+Christ. As you touch each patient, think it is Christ Himself, and
+then virtue will come out of the touch to yourself. I have felt that
+myself, when I have had a particularly loathsome patient. Be full of
+the Glad Tidings, and you will tell others. You cannot give what you
+have not got."
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] A Yorkshire expression for heavy work.
+
+[B] This has been denied. Her old and devoted servant said: "Do you
+think I would let my darling die alone?" But it appears to me that
+Sister Dora's desire was one to be expected in such a spiritual
+nature; and in the statement above given it is not said that she was
+actually left in solitude.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE
+
+    Day unto day her dainty hands
+      Make Life's soiled temples clean;
+    And there's a wake of glory where
+      Her spirit pure hath been.
+    At midnight through the shadow-land
+      Her living face doth gleam;
+    The dying kiss her shadow, and
+      The dead smile in their dream.
+                       --_Gerald Massey._
+
+
+Some years ago, when the celebrated Florence Nightingale was a little
+girl, living at her father's home, a large, old Elizabethan house,
+with great woods about it, in Hampshire, there was one thing that
+struck everybody who knew her. It was that she seemed to be always
+thinking what she could do to please or help anyone who needed either
+help or comfort. She was very fond, too, of animals, and she was so
+gentle in her way, that even the shyest of them would come quite close
+to her, and pick up whatever she flung down for them to eat.
+
+There was, in the garden behind the house, a long walk with trees on
+each side, the abode of many squirrels, and when Florence came down
+the walk, dropping nuts as she went along, the squirrels would run
+down the trunks of their trees, and, hardly waiting until she passed
+by, would pick up the prize and dart away, with their little bushy
+tails curled over their backs, and their black eyes looking about as
+if terrified at the least noise, though they did not seem to be afraid
+of Florence.
+
+Then there was an old gray pony named Peggy, past work, living in a
+paddock, with nothing to do all day long but to amuse herself.
+Whenever Florence appeared at the gate, Peggy would come trotting up
+and put her nose into the dress pocket of her little mistress, and
+pick it of the apple or the roll of bread that she knew she would
+always find there, for this was a trick Florence had taught the pony.
+Florence was fond of riding, and her father's old friend, the
+clergyman of the parish, used often to come and take her for a ride
+with him when he went to the farm cottages at a distance.
+
+As he had studied medicine when a young man, he was able to tell the
+people what would do them good when they were ill or had met with an
+accident. Little Florence took great delight in helping to nurse those
+who were ill; and whenever she went on these long rides, she had a
+small basket fastened to her saddle, filled with something nice which
+she saved from her breakfast or dinner, or carried for her mother.
+
+There lived in one of two or three solitary cottages in the wood an
+old shepherd of her father's, named Roger, who had a favourite
+sheep-dog called Cap. Roger had neither wife nor child, and Cap lived
+with him and kept him company at night after he had penned his flock.
+Cap was a very sensible dog; indeed people used to say he could do
+everything but speak. He kept the sheep in wonderfully good order, and
+thus saved his master a great deal of trouble. One day as Florence and
+her old friend were out for a ride, they came to a field where they
+found the shepherd giving his sheep their night feed; but he was
+without the dog, and the sheep knew it, for they were scampering in
+every direction. Florence and her friend noticed that the old shepherd
+looked very sad, and they stopped to ask what was the matter, and what
+had become of his dog.
+
+"Oh," said Roger, "Cap will never be of any more use to me; I'll have
+to hang him, poor fellow, as soon as I go home to-night."
+
+"Hang him!" said Florence. "Oh, Roger, how wicked of you! What has
+dear old Cap done?"
+
+"He has done nothing," replied Roger; "but he will never be of any
+more use to me, and I cannot afford to keep him for nothing; one of
+the mischievous school boys throwed a stone at him yesterday and broke
+one of his legs." And the old shepherd's eyes filled with tears, which
+he wiped away with his shirt-sleeve, then he drove his spade deep in
+the ground to hide what he felt, for he did not like to be seen
+crying.
+
+"Poor Cap," he sighed, "he was as knowing almost as a human being."
+
+"But are you sure his leg is broken?" asked Florence.
+
+"Oh, yes, miss, it is broken safe enough; he has not put his foot to
+the ground since."
+
+Florence and her friend rode on without saying anything more to Roger.
+
+"We will go and see poor Cap," said the vicar; "I don't believe the
+leg is really broken. It would take a big stone and a hard blow to
+break the leg of a big dog like Cap."
+
+"Oh, if you could cure him, how glad Roger would be!" replied
+Florence.
+
+They soon reached the shepherd's cottage, but the door was fastened;
+and when they moved the latch, such a furious barking was heard that
+they drew back, startled. However, a little boy came out of the next
+cottage, and asked if they wanted to go in, as Roger had left the key
+with his mother. So the key was got and the door opened and there on
+the bare brick floor lay the dog, his hair dishevelled, and his eyes
+sparkling with anger at the intruders. But when he saw the little boy
+he grew peaceful, and when he looked at Florence and heard her call
+him "poor Cap," he began to wag his short tail; and then crept from
+under the table and lay down at her feet. She took hold of one of his
+paws, patted his old rough head, and talked to him, whilst her friend
+examined the injured leg. It was dreadfully swollen, and hurt very
+much to have it examined; but the dog knew it was meant kindly, and
+though he moaned and winced with pain, he licked the hands that were
+hurting him.
+
+"It's only a bad bruise, no bones are broken," said her old friend.
+"Rest is all Cap needs; he will soon be well again."
+
+"I am so glad," said Florence; "but can we do nothing for him, he
+seems in such pain?"
+
+"There is one thing that would ease the pain and heal the leg all the
+sooner, and that is plenty of hot water to foment the part."
+
+Florence struck a light with the tinder-box, and lighted the fire,
+which was already laid. She then set off to the other cottage to get
+something to bathe the leg with. She found an old flannel petticoat
+hanging up to dry, and this she carried off, and tore up into strips,
+which she wrung out in warm water, and laid them tenderly on Cap's
+swollen leg. It was not long before the poor dog felt the benefit of
+the application, and he looked grateful, wagging his little stump of a
+tail in thanks. On their way home they met the shepherd coming slowly
+along, with a piece of rope in his hand.
+
+"Oh, Roger," cried Florence, "you are not to hang poor old Cap; his
+leg is not broken at all."
+
+"No, he will serve you yet," said the vicar.
+
+"Well, I be main glad to hear it," said the shepherd, "and thanks to
+you for going to see him."
+
+On the next morning Florence was up early, and the first thing she did
+was to take two flannel petticoats to give to the poor woman whose
+skirt she had torn up to bathe Cap. Then she went to the dog, and was
+delighted to find the swelling of his leg much less. She bathed it
+again, and Cap was as grateful as before.
+
+Two or three days afterward Florence and her friend were riding
+together, when they came up to Roger and his sheep. This time Cap was
+watching the sheep, though he was lying quite still, and pretending to
+be asleep. When he heard the voice of Florence speaking to his master,
+who was portioning out the usual food, his tail wagged and his eyes
+sparkled, but he did not get up, for he was on duty. The shepherd
+stopped his work, and as he glanced at the dog with a merry laugh,
+said, "Do look at the dog, Miss; he be so pleased to hear your voice."
+Cap's tail went faster and faster. "I be glad," continued the old man,
+"I did not hang him. I be greatly obliged to you Miss, and the vicar,
+for what you did. But for you I would have hanged the best dog I ever
+had in my life."
+
+This child, Florence Nightingale, of whom the foregoing story is told,
+was born in Florence, Italy, in 1820. Her parents were English, and
+her early years were given to the studies which a girl fortunately
+situated would follow. She was taught in science and mathematics as
+well as in the fluent use of French, German and Italian.
+
+But from the day the little girl nursed the leg of the shepherd's dog,
+it became the custom of the neighbourhood where she lived to send for
+her when anyone had a cut or bruise or sick animal. "During her
+girlhood," says the lady who has written her life, "she was chief
+almoner to the cottages around her home, and nursed all illnesses
+under the advice of her mother and the vicar." Her favourite books
+were those that taught of helpfulness to the suffering and miserable,
+and it seemed as if her whole nature was turning toward her great
+work. While still a young girl she became interested in what Elizabeth
+Fry had done in English prisons, and she paid an interested visit to
+Mrs. Fry.
+
+When in London she would visit hospitals and kindred institutions, and
+it is said that in the family travels in Egypt she nursed to health
+several sick Arabs. Her tastes and time, it is evident, were turned
+toward a humane and benevolent rather than a social life. Thus passed
+the years of her younger womanhood.
+
+She had withdrawn from gaieties to learn whatever she could of the
+hospitals of London, Edinburgh and Dublin, and indeed, of the civil
+and military hospitals of all Europe, and finally in 1851, she went
+into training as a nurse in a famous institution at Kaiserwerth on the
+Rhine. Here, when she had taken the course of instruction, she passed
+a distinguished examination. After a short period of further study in
+Paris she returned to her beautiful English home for rest.
+
+But at this time a hospital and home in London for sick and aged
+governesses was about to fail from lack of means and lack of able
+direction. To this Miss Nightingale gave herself with ardour, and so
+renewed its strength that it still remains a witness to her energy.
+She gave largely to this institution. Nevertheless she was to be
+found, says a visitor, "organising the nurses, attending to the
+correspondence, prescriptions and accounts; in short, performing all
+the duties of a hard-working matron."
+
+Ten years she had been serving apprenticeship for the great work of
+her life, and now she was thirty-four years old. In 1854 a war broke
+out between England and Russia. It is known as the Crimean War.
+England sent her soldiers to the Black Sea in many thousands. These
+soldiers were sadly clad and fed. Bad management seems to have
+prevailed, and the service for carrying supplies was inadequate. Warm
+clothing, blankets, tents and other protection failed to reach the
+troops. "What a mockery," says one writer, "it must have seemed to the
+poor fellows, who with scanty rations and in threadbare and tattered
+clothes, were enduring the most cruel fatigues aggravated by wind and
+rain and snow and cold upon the bleak heights of the Tauric
+Chersonese," to hear comforts had been sent them. "When men of
+courageous mould have been seen 'to weep,' as on night after night,
+succeeding days of starvation and toil, they were ordered to their
+work in freezing trenches, who can estimate the exhausting misery they
+had at first endured?"
+
+"It is now pouring rain," wrote another who was there, "the skies are
+black as ink--the wind is howling over the staggering tents--the
+trenches are turned into dykes--in the tents the water is sometimes a
+foot deep--our men have not either warm or waterproof clothing--they
+are out for twelve hours at a time in the trenches--they are plunged
+into the inevitable miseries of a winter campaign--and not a soul
+seems to care for their comfort, or even for their lives. The wretched
+beggar who wanders about the streets of London in the rain, leads the
+life of a prince, compared with the British soldiers who are fighting
+out here for their country.
+
+"The commonest accessories of a hospital are wanting; there is not the
+least attention paid to decency or cleanliness; the fetid air can
+barely struggle out to taint the atmosphere, save through the chinks
+in the walls and roofs, and, for all I can observe, these men die
+without the least effort being made to save them. There they lie, just
+as they were let gently down on the ground by the poor fellows, their
+comrades, who brought them on their backs from the camp with the
+greatest tenderness, but who are not allowed to remain with them. The
+sick appear to be tended by the sick, and the dying by the dying."
+
+During that winter of 1854, many were frozen in their tents. Of nearly
+forty-five thousand, over eighteen thousand were reported in the
+hospitals. The English people at last saw their disaster, and certain
+women volunteered services of helpfulness. The head of the War
+Department of the Government who knew of Miss Nightingale's interest
+in nursing, asked her to superintend and organise a staff of nurses.
+By a strange coincidence Florence Nightingale had written and offered
+her aid to the sick and wounded soldiers, and her letter passed the
+letter from the Government.
+
+It was an undertaking wholly new to English habits--a band of devoted
+women going to soften the horrors of war and save lives the war had
+endeavoured to end. As the nurses landed at Boulogne in France, the
+poor fisherwomen seized and carried their baggage in token of their
+admiration for the work they were starting out to do. And in their
+journey through France the innkeepers would not take pay for their
+lodgings and food. They sailed across the Mediterranean and in
+November, 1854, reached Scutari, a town in Turkey in Asia, opposite
+Constantinople.
+
+Four thousand sick and wounded soldiers lay in the hospitals awaiting
+their ministrations. And still others from a great battle were coming
+in. These hospitals were so filled that even in the corridors were two
+rows of mattresses and so close together that two persons could barely
+walk between the rows. The beds reeked with infection. There was no
+thought, seemingly, of sanitation. Rather than curers the hospitals
+were breeders of pestilence.
+
+"The whole of yesterday one could only forget one's own existence,"
+wrote one of the nurses, "for it was spent first in sewing the men's
+mattresses, and then in washing them, and assisting the surgeons, when
+we could, in dressing their ghastly wounds after their five days'
+confinement on board ship, during which space hundreds of wounds had
+not been dressed. Hundreds of men with fever, dysentery and cholera
+(the wounded were the smaller portion) filled the wards in succession
+from the overcrowded transports." Such were the conditions this band
+of women found.
+
+The head of the band, Miss Nightingale, began her work of
+organisation. She laboured with tireless energy and indomitable will.
+But not without opposition. The military and medical officials, says
+one who was there, "were in the uttermost confusion among themselves,
+and they generally regarded these gentle missionaries as a new element
+of anarchy."
+
+As soon as the wounded soldiers had had treatment, Miss Nightingale
+set in active operations a kitchen where food fit for the sick might
+be prepared. Many hundreds of the invalids could not eat of ordinary
+food without serious evil results. In this kitchen the nurses cooked
+nourishing delicacies for the poor fellows. The following is a little
+snapshot by one who was there: "In the outer room we caught a glimpse
+of the justly celebrated Miss Nightingale, an amiable and highly
+intelligent-looking lady, delicate in form and prepossessing in
+appearance. Her energies were concentrated for the instant in the
+careful preparation of a dish of delectable food for an enfeebled
+patient--one of her homely ministrations to the wan victims of
+relentless war."
+
+After the kitchen the master--or mistress--mind planned a laundry
+where the clothing and beds of the sick men might be cleansed. Miss
+Nightingale, you see, merely organised and conducted housekeeping upon
+a giant scale. Then in addition she set on foot evening lectures for
+the men able to listen, and a library and a schoolroom.
+
+Nevertheless she gave distinct and individual service. "I believe,"
+wrote one, "that there never was a severe case of any kind that
+escaped her notice; and sometimes it was wonderful to see her at the
+bedside of a patient who had been admitted perhaps but an hour before,
+and of whose arrival one would hardly have supposed it possible she
+could already be cognisant."
+
+"As her slender form glided quietly along each corridor every poor
+fellow's face softens with gratitude at the sight of her," wrote
+another. "When all the medical officers have retired for the night and
+silence and darkness have settled down on the miles of prostrate sick,
+she may be observed alone with a little lamp in her hand making her
+solitary rounds. No one who has observed her fragile figure and
+delicate health can avoid misgivings lest these should fail. With the
+heart of a true woman and the manners of a lady she combines a
+surprising calmness of judgment and promptitude and decision of
+character."
+
+"To see her pass was happiness," one poor fellow said. "As she passed
+down the beds she would nod to one and smile at many more; but she
+could not do it to all, you know. We lay there by hundreds; but we
+could kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads upon the pillows
+again, content."
+
+"The magic of her power over men used often to be felt," wrote
+Kinglake the historian, "in the room--the dreaded, the blood-stained
+room--where 'operations' took place. There perhaps the maimed soldier,
+if not yet resigned to his fate, might at first be craving death
+rather than meet the knife of the surgeon; but when such a one looked
+and saw that the honoured lady-in-chief was patiently standing by him
+and, with lips closely set and hands folded, decreeing herself to go
+through the pain of witnessing pain, he used to fall into the mood of
+obeying the silent command, and, finding strange support in her
+presence, bring himself to submit and endure."
+
+Every fresh detachment of the wounded meant fresh work for the band of
+devoted women. Miss Nightingale was always among the busiest and she
+was known to stand for twenty hours assisting at operations, directing
+nurses, herself ministering to cholera and fever patients and
+distributing stores. Once she was prostrated by fever for some weeks.
+Illness also attacked others of the nurses and many were laid in
+quiet graves in that distant land.
+
+At last the fighting was brought to an end. For a year and a half had
+the noble and humane work of nursing gone on and shown the world how
+much greater is the saving of lives than the destruction of lives by
+the murder of war. The gratitude the English people felt for what the
+nurses had done they expressed by a gift of fifty thousand pounds to
+Miss Nightingale after her return to England. They had planned also a
+public welcome of their heroine, but with the modesty and calm
+judgment that always characterised her, she slipped quietly into
+England by the carriage of a French steamer and so to her country
+home. Queen Victoria, who with her husband the Prince Consort, had
+most earnestly admired Miss Nightingale's course, and had sought
+direct knowledge of her work during her stay in the East, entertained
+her at Balmoral and presented her with a valuable jewel. The sum
+presented her by the nation was, at her request, given to the
+foundation of a training home for nurses in connection with St.
+Thomas's Hospital. It is called the "Nightingale Home."
+
+This "Angel of the Crimea" returned to England so enfeebled with
+arduous labour that she has never since entered active life. She lived
+many years, perforce, in her own sick-room with scarcely strength to
+pen a letter, and saw no one but closest associates. The knowledge and
+experience she had got in public service, however, she gave to the
+world in part in her "Notes on Nursing" and "Notes on Hospitals," and
+other publications. Several Governments have sought her advice upon
+the sanitation of army camps, and the Red Cross Society is in part
+from her aid and endeavour.
+
+Her "Notes on Nursing" are full of sound sense and we should be more
+fortunate if the knowledge in them were more general than it is.
+
+"Everything you do in a patient's room after he is 'put up' for the
+night increases tenfold the risk of his having a bad night; but if you
+rouse him up after he has fallen asleep, you do not risk--you secure
+him a bad night."
+
+"Conciseness and decision are above all things necessary with the
+sick. Let your doubt be to yourself, your decision to them."
+
+"Above all leave the sick-room quietly, and come into it quietly; not
+suddenly, not with a rush."
+
+"Remember never to lean against, sit upon, or unnecessarily shake the
+bed upon which a patient lies."
+
+"An extraordinary fallacy is the dread of night air," she wrote. "What
+air can we breathe at night but night air? The choice is between pure
+night air from without and foul night air from within. Most people
+prefer the latter--an unaccountable choice. What will they say if it
+be proved true that fully one-half of all the disease we suffer from
+is occasioned by people sleeping with their windows shut? An open
+window most nights of the year can never hurt anyone. In great cities
+night air is often the best and purest to be had in the twenty-four
+hours."
+
+"The five essentials, for healthy houses," she again says, "are pure
+air, pure water, efficient drainage, cleanliness and light. I have
+known whole houses and hospitals smell of the sink. I have met just as
+strong a stream of sewer air coming up the back staircase of a grand
+London house, from the sink, as I have ever met at Scutari; and I have
+seen the rooms in that house all ventilated by the open doors, and
+the passages all unventilated by the close windows, in order that as
+much of the sewer air as possible might be conducted into and retained
+in the bedrooms. It is wonderful!"
+
+She is opposed to dark houses; says they promote scrofula; to old
+papered walls and to carpets full of dust. An uninhabited room becomes
+full of foul air soon, and needs to have the windows open often. She
+would keep sick people, or well, forever in the sunlight if possible,
+for sunlight is the greatest possible purifier of the atmosphere. "In
+the unsunned sides of narrow streets," she writes, "there is
+degeneracy and weakliness of the human race--mind and body equally
+degenerating. Oh, the crowded school, where so many children's
+epidemics have their origin, what a tale its air test would tell!"
+
+"Nursing is an art; and if it is to be made an art, requires as
+exclusive a devotion, as hard a preparation, as any painter's or
+sculptor's work; for what is the having to do with dead canvas or cold
+marble compared with having to do with the living body, the temple of
+God's Spirit? Nursing is one of the fine arts; I had almost said, the
+finest of the fine arts."
+
+Miss Nightingale is living with her great work done. Still she
+continues and will ever continue, her ministrations in the bravery,
+devotion and unselfishness of every nurse and in the effective work of
+every hospital.
+
+
+SANTA FILOMENA
+
+BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
+
+    When e'er a noble deed is wrought,
+    When e'er is spoken a noble thought,
+        Our hearts in glad surprise,
+        To higher levels rise.
+
+    The tidal wave of deeper souls
+    Into our inmost being rolls,
+        And lifts us unawares
+        Out of all meaner cares.
+
+    Honour to those whose words or deeds
+    Thus help us in our daily needs,
+        And by their overflow
+        Raise us from what is low!
+
+    Thus thought I, as by night I read
+    Of the great army of the dead,
+        The trenches cold and damp,
+        The starved and frozen camp.
+
+    The wounded from the battle-plain,
+    In dreary hospitals of pain,
+        The cheerless corridors,
+        The cold and stony floors.
+
+    Lo! in that house of misery
+    A lady with a lamp I see
+        Pass through the glimmering gloom
+        And flit from room to room.
+
+    And slow, as in a dream of bliss
+    The speechless sufferer turns to kiss
+        Her shadow as it falls
+        Upon the darkening walls.
+
+    As if a door in heaven should be
+    Opened and then closed suddenly
+        The vision came and went
+        The light shone and was spent
+
+    On England's annals, through the long
+    Hereafter of her speech and song,
+        That light its rays shall cast
+        From the portals of the past.
+
+    A Lady with a Lamp shall stand,
+    In the great history of the land,
+        A noble type of good,
+        Heroic womanhood.
+
+    Nor even shall be wanting here
+    The palm, the lily and the spear
+        The symbols that of yore
+        Saint Filomena[C] bore.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[C] In her "Sacred and Legendary Art," Mrs. Jamieson writes that "at
+Pisa the Church of San Francesco contained a chapel dedicated to Santa
+Filomena; over the altar is a picture by Sabatelli, representing the
+saint as a beautiful nymph-like figure floating down from heaven,
+attended by two angels, bearing the lily, palm, and javelin, and
+beneath, in the foreground, the sick and maimed who are healed by her
+intercession."
+
+Longfellow gave the name Filomena to Florence Nightingale partly
+because of her labours among the sick and dying at Scutari, and partly
+on account of the resemblance between Filomena and the Latin Philomela
+(nightingale).--_Brewer._
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+    +-----------------------------------------------------------+
+    | Typographical errors corrected in the text:               |
+    |                                                           |
+    | Page  52: Bethelehem replaced with Bethlehem              |
+    | Page  60: Dauphine replaced with Dauphine                 |
+    | Page  90: deserevd replaced with deserved                 |
+    | Page  97: "pronounced sentenced of death" replaced with   |
+    |           "pronounced sentence of death"                  |
+    | Page 145: propperly replaced with properly                |
+    | Page 167: "and sometimes at the Lady Pocahontas"          |
+    |           replaced with                                   |
+    |           "and sometimes as the Lady Pocahontas"          |
+    | Page 182: heighth replaced with height                    |
+    | Page 189: Mandonald replaced with Macdonald               |
+    | Page 234: fairty replaced with fairly                     |
+    | Page 235: surviviors replaced with survivors              |
+    | Page 280: dailyneeds replaced with daily needs            |
+    |                                                           |
+    | Readers should note that in the Chapter on Catherine      |
+    | Douglas, pp. 101-131, the spelling 'Scotish' is not an    |
+    | error, but a varient spelling.                            |
+    |                                                           |
+    +-----------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
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