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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/76056-0.txt b/76056-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..928767f --- /dev/null +++ b/76056-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4567 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76056 *** + + + + + + WOMEN IN + AMERICAN HISTORY + + _By_ + + GRACE HUMPHREY + + AUTHOR OF + + Illinois--The Story of the + Prairie State + + [Illustration] + + INDIANAPOLIS + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1919 + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + + PRESS OF + BRAUNWORTH & CO. + BOOK MANUFACTURERS + BROOKLYN, N. Y. + + + + + CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER PAGE + +I POCAHONTAS 1 + +II ANNE HUTCHINSON 18 + +III BETSY ROSS 30 + +IV MARY LINDLEY MURRAY 40 + +V MOLLY PITCHER 47 + +VI MARTHA WASHINGTON 55 + +VII JEMIMA JOHNSON 72 + +VIII SACAJAWEA 80 + +IX DOLLY MADISON 101 + +X LUCRETIA MOTT 115 + +XI HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 132 + +XII JULIA WARD HOWE 154 + +XIII MARY A. LIVERMORE 164 + +XIV BARBARA FRITCHIE 179 + +XV CLARA BARTON 189 + +EPILOGUE 207 + +BIBLIOGRAPHY 211 + +INDEX 219 + + + + + WOMEN IN + AMERICAN HISTORY + + + + + CHAPTER I + + POCAHONTAS + + 1595-1617 + + +One cold stormy day, more than three hundred years ago, a group of +Indians was sitting around the fire in a “long house” on the James +River in Virginia. Warriors and young braves, squaws and maidens, were +listening to stories, while the children played about boisterously. +Some of them were wrestling, some racing with dogs, and others turning +somersaults in the long narrow passageway. + +Suddenly the deerskin curtains parted and in dashed an Indian runner. +He spied the chief at the far end of the room near the fire and started +toward him; but one of the children, a little girl named Mataoka, who +was turning hand-springs, collided with him and knocked him down. A +little girl she was, ten or eleven years old, with swarthy skin, black +eyes and long straight hair, like all the other Indian girls; but she +was distinguished among the group, for she was the daughter of the +chief. + +“Child,” said her father, “in your rough play you have knocked down +your brother, the runner who has come with some message. That is not +play for a girl. Why will you be such a little tomboy?” + +At this all the Indians present took up the word _tomboy_ and repeated +it in the guttural Algonquin speech--_pocahuntas_, _pocahuntas_. And +that nickname stayed with her all her life long. + +“I have news,” said the runner, when he could get his breath. “I have +great news,” and he paused dramatically. “The white captain is caught!” + +What an excitement this created in the long house! Warriors and squaws +crowded around the tired runner, eager to have the details of his +story--how two hundred Indians, with the chief’s brother at their head, +had watched from behind the trees as the white captain, with an Indian +guide, left his two men in the boat and went ashore; how stealthily +they lay in wait to attack him, in the heart of the deep woods; how +they shot their arrows thick and fast, when the right moment came, till +they saw the white captain seize the Indian and use him as a shield, +while he slowly made his way back toward the boat; how the Indians +were afraid they would lose their prey after all, but fortune favored +them when the white man stumbled into a bog and was held fast by the +slippery ground and the icy water; and how, after he was nearly dead +with the cold and had thrown away his arms, they took him prisoner. +At first, said the runner, the braves wanted to kill him, but later +thought it would be a better plan to lead him to the village where the +whole tribe could rejoice in this triumph. + +All this Pocahontas, the little daughter of the great chief Powhatan, +heard, and was deeply interested. For the plucky captain had saved his +life by a device that was almost an Indian trick. So you may be sure +she was there, the next day, when the noted prisoner was brought in. +She was very proud of her father, who ruled over a league of nearly +forty tribes, numbering some eight thousand people, as she looked +up at him, sitting in state on a raised platform, dressed in raccoon +skins, with all the tails left on, and wearing his splendid crown of +red feathers. Proud, too, she was to be his favorite daughter. + +At the council Mataoka listened while the Indians told how the +prisoner had shot at their men, one of whom had since died. She was +heavy-hearted when she learned the verdict, “Then he too must die--that +is the Indian custom!” She watched while some young braves brought in +two great stones and placed them in front of Powhatan. She saw them +seize the prisoner, drag him before her father, force him down until +his head was on the stones, and then tie his hands and feet. And all +the time her heart went out to him, so fair, so friendly, so fine a man +he was! + +Meanwhile John Smith, the white captain, not understanding what the +Indians were saying, could only guess at his fate. He had often been +near to death, in his adventurous life, and he thought now of some of +his narrow escapes--of his fighting days in the Low Countries, in the +Holy Land against the Turks, and that wonderful day when he met the +three Turkish champions in single combat, came out victorious, and was +given a coat of arms. He thought of the times he had been robbed and +shipwrecked, captured by Barbary pirates and sold into slavery. Yes, +he had been close to death before. Would some providence save him this +time? + +No, there were only forbidding looks on the swarthy faces around him, +glances of hatred, contempt, of triumph. Smith, from his position on +the ground, saw the chief motion to the executioners, who brought in +their great war clubs. Now they swung them up over their shoulders +and stood ready for the word of command. Powhatan had opened his lips +to speak when suddenly there was a commotion in the group as a little +figure darted past the platform, slipped through deterring hands, and +flung herself on the helpless prisoner. + +No girl’s game now was the little tomboy playing, as she took John +Smith’s head in her arms and with her own body shielded him from death. +The executioners stopped, uncertain what to do, for they were fond +of the chief’s daughter and would not harm a hair of her head. With +flashing eyes she waved them back and pleaded with the stern Powhatan +to spare the white captain’s life. + +At once there was a scene of the wildest commotion. There were shouts +and threats and many cries of “Kill! Kill!” for the Indians feared the +power of these newcomers and longed to drive them from the land. But +the little Pocahontas was a chief’s daughter and stood for her rights. +Let them grant this enemy his life and adopt him into their tribe; for +what harm had he done them? They ought to be friends. And she had her +way. Powhatan raised his hand and when the clamor ceased, he spoke to +the warriors who set the plucky paleface free. + +Mataoka smiled upon him and gave him many a look of wondering +curiosity. Smith presented her with some trifling gifts and asked her +name. Now it was the Indian custom never to tell a name to a stranger, +lest it give him some magic harmful influence, so Powhatan replied that +his daughter’s name was Pocahontas. + +This story is questioned by some historians because Smith did not +include it in his first published account of the Virginia colony, nor +yet in the second, though he did praise the Indian girl. In a letter he +sent to the English queen, years later, bespeaking for her the royal +favor, he tells how Pocahontas saved his life and the colony as well. + +True or not, Pocahontas and Smith became warm friends and the +kind-hearted little Indian girl was loyal and faithful to the +settlement at Jamestown, and saved the colony more than once. +Frequently she would go with her brothers, or some of her Indian +attendants, carrying corn or venison to the people who were in danger +of starving--you remember how improvident those first colonists were, +and how badly their affairs were managed? Once she hid a messenger whom +the savages planned to kill; she saved the life of a captured English +boy; three times she stole cautiously into Jamestown and warned her new +friends of threatened attacks; and she told Smith himself of a trap +laid to surprise him, while his party waited for promised provisions. + +“Great cheer (corn) will be sent you by and by,” she whispered, “but +my father Powhatan and all the power he can make will come afterward, +if the braves that bring the corn do not kill you when you are at +supper. Hurry away! No, no,” she added, refusing a compass he offered +her, “I can no take. Indians see it. Powhatan kill me. If know I tell +you, I am but dead.” + +As quietly as she had come through the forest she slipped away, while +the Englishmen, ready for the attack, returned in safety to Jamestown. + +In the autumn of 1609, tired of the endless quarreling and dissension +in the colony, and sorely wounded by an explosion of gunpowder, Smith +went back to England. Then Pocahontas made no more visits to Jamestown. +Finally word came that Smith was dead and the little Indian girl +grieved deeply. After this all friendship between the red men and the +whites ceased. The settlers were often greedy and selfish, frequently +breaking their promises to the Indians who soon came to distrust, then +to fear and at last to hate them. + +A British soldier, Captain Argall, half pirate and half trader, thought +of a fine plan to persuade Powhatan, who was trying to starve the +British out, to keep the peace. This was to get Pocahontas into their +power, and the old chief would do anything to ransom her. Now the maid +was visiting old Chief Japazaws and his wife on the Potomac River. And +so Captain Argall won them to his scheme by promising them a wonderful +copper kettle if they succeeded, and threatening them if they failed. +The squaw was to bring Pocahontas aboard his ship, lying at anchor in +the Potomac. + +As they walked along the river bank the old woman said she had seen the +English ships three times before, with their great sails like white +wings, but she had never been aboard, and oh! how much she wanted to +go! Wouldn’t her husband take her? + +“No, no,” he said sternly. + +And when she continued to beg, he threatened to beat her--all part +of the plan! Pocahontas with her tender heart was moved to pity and +offered to go with her, if Japazaws would consent, which he did but +only on condition that he accompany them. So the three of them paddled +out to the ship, where they were well entertained and invited to a +merry supper; after which the Indians with the precious kettle went +ashore while Pocahontas was kept a prisoner. + +A message was sent to Powhatan that his delight and his darling, +Pocahontas, was a captive there at Jamestown and would only be released +if he sent back all the Englishmen he held, all the tools and guns and +swords he had taken or stolen, and a large amount of corn as a ransom. +The maid had a long wait, for the chief made no reply for three months, +torn between affection for his daughter and desire for the weapons; and +then he sent back only seven Englishmen and a few guns. So the crafty +Argall continued to hold her prisoner. + +Perhaps she liked the little town better than the smoky long house of +her tribe, for she was treated with the greatest friendliness. From +the very first she had been warm and cordial to the strangers. Now, an +innocent, interesting prisoner, she was honored and petted. Pocahontas +had grown to be a woman and had learned the ways of English people. +One of the settlers, Master John Rolfe, who is described in the old +records as “an honest and discreet gentleman of good behaviour,” fell +in love with her, for she was gentle and generous, pretty and graceful, +altogether captivating--and she loved him in return. + +Rolfe consulted Governor Dale about this marriage and gained his +approval. Powhatan also consented and sent his brother to give the +bride away, and his two sons and several chiefs of the tribe to be +present at the wedding. + +In the little church at Jamestown, Pocahontas was baptized and +christened Rebecca. And early in April, 1614, she and John Rolfe were +married there. The whole colony went to the ceremony, for everybody +was interested in the little hostage, and hoped great things from this +union--peace with the tribes of red men, and plenty of trade--with +Pocahontas as the bond to cement their friendship. They must all have +rejoiced when a year later her little son was born, and felt saddened +when the family moved out to Bermuda Hundred, a new plantation on the +James River where Rolfe raised the first tobacco in Virginia. + +Here her husband and Governor Dale and the local minister devoted +themselves to teaching her English and the Christian religion. She +was eager to learn, for she liked civilized life, though the English +customs were in great contrast to the Indian ways. In a short time +Pocahontas became so well educated that she had no desire to return to +her father. Then she had the greatest affection for her husband, and +she dearly loved her son. + +When they had been married two years they started to England--Governor +Dale, Pocahontas and Rolfe, the baby Thomas, and an old Indian named +Tomocomo, whom Powhatan sent as a special guard for his daughter. If +life in the colony seemed strange to the forest maid, what must this +voyage have been? The great extent of the sea, the many ships, were a +marvel to her. At Plymouth the governor of the town came to the wharf +to bid her welcome to England. Her journey to London was almost a royal +progress. + +Everywhere she was received with great honor, as a foreign princess. +She was entertained at banquets and receptions. She went to the +theaters. She was present at _Twelfth Night_ when Ben Jonson’s masque +was played; with Lady Delaware she was presented to the king and queen, +who welcomed her with pomp and ceremony. She carried herself as though +she were the daughter of a king, and among all the ladies of the court +none was a greater favorite, for her dark beauty and gentle modest ways +won all hearts. + +The greatest excitement followed the travelers. Everybody was curious +to see Pocahontas. Bishops and great lords and ladies drove in their +coaches to call upon her. And in compliment to this princess from the +new world many inns and taverns were called “La Belle Sauvage,” a name +you will still find on old swinging signs in London Town. + +The shrewd old chief, Tomocomo, with his tawny skin and shining black +hair, dressed in his war feathers and Indian robes, attracted almost +as much attention. Powhatan had told him to count the men he saw in +England, that the tribe might know the strength of their friends--or +enemies? He had given Tomocomo a bundle of sticks whereon he should +make a notch for each man he saw. Long before the party reached London +every stick was notched closely, and with an Indian grunt of disgust +which meant “My arithmetic fails me!” Tomocomo gave it up and threw +away his sticks. + +John Smith had again been adventuring and exploring but now, returning +to England, he heard every one talking of Pocahontas. Remembering old +times and all he owed his little friend, he at once went to visit her. +When Smith appeared she was greatly moved and for a long time could not +speak. At last she said, “They told me you were dead!” + +She reproached him for calling her the formal “Lady Rebecca” and asked +why he didn’t call her his child, as he used to do? + +“But,” said Smith, “the king has commanded that you be treated as a +princess!” + +Pocahontas, as before, had her way, and the two good friends sat down +for a long talk of the old days in Virginia, and all that had happened +since their separation. + +Though she was so petted in England Pocahontas did not really belong +there. More and more her thoughts turned toward home. She wearied of +crowded London and longed for the forest again. Every day she would +stand by the window, looking toward the west where Virginia and her +early life lay. She thought much of the old days, of the changes +that had come to her and to her people, with the appearance of the +fair-haired stranger and his Englishmen. Rolfe grew alarmed at her +evident home-sickness, and feared she would fall ill with longing. But +they must wait till the ship at Gravesend took on her supplies for the +long trip to America, and was loaded with the many cases being sent to +Virginia. + +At last, word came that all was ready and sailors were sent to take +them aboard. But though she had set her face to the west, Pocahontas +was not to return to America. A sudden weakness overcame her, gently +she fell asleep, and at twenty-two in a foreign land, she died and was +buried in the little church at Gravesend. + +Her son Thomas was educated in England by his uncle, a London +merchant. But when he was grown he returned to Virginia, and among +his descendants were many families of that state, proud to claim as +their ancestor the tomboy Pocahontas. One of them was William Henry +Harrison, president of the United States; another John Randolph, of +Roanoke, a man famous in his day, for many years a member of Congress +in House and Senate. When he rose to speak there, his flashing black +eyes and jet-black hair, his brown parchment-like face seamed with a +thousand small wrinkles, his lean figure, with long arms and long bony +forefinger, his bursts of brilliant oratory, would remind people of +his forebears, and they would say, “Yes, Randolph boasts of the blood +of Pocahontas in his veins.” Years later, in our own century, another +descendant, Edith Bolling Wilson, became mistress of the White House, +the first lady in the land. + +Pocahontas is the first woman who made history in our country. Her +story is full of romance, of adventure, of gentleness and daring +courage. Far more she did than save Smith’s life; for it was through +her friendship with the English that the colony was supplied with food. +It was her marriage that made possible, as long as Powhatan lived, +peace between the two peoples. It was she, said John Smith, who saved +Virginia from famine, confusion and death. + + + + + CHAPTER II + + ANNE HUTCHINSON + + 1590-1643 + + +Anne Marbury was an English girl who lived in Lincolnshire, near the +town of Boston. Her father was a Puritan minister, preaching there and +in London. In Lincolnshire Anne passed her girlhood, doubtless hearing +a great deal of theological controversy and religious discussion, +for this was the time of the Puritan revolt in England, and of great +religious excitement. Naturally intelligent and earnest, her mental +powers were aroused and quickened. + +At an early age she married William Hutchinson, “a very honest and +peaceable man of good estate.” And in 1634 with her husband and +children she journeyed to America--the outcome of the Reverend John +Cotton’s leaving England because of his persecution by the bishops. +Anne Hutchinson had been one of his most ardent disciples in the church +at old Boston, and was now to sit under him in the new Boston. + +It was a pleasant voyage of seven weeks, in the good ship _Griffen_. +There were over a hundred passengers, among them two ministers, so you +may be sure there were sermons and prayers and religious discussions +all during the crossing. Indeed Mistress Anne Hutchinson was so +outspoken in her doctrines that, when they landed, one of these +ministers reported her to the governor as holding dangerous beliefs. +Though her husband was accepted at once, the colony leaders took a +week’s time to look into her liberal views, and then examined her +rigorously before admitting her to membership in the church. + +For Massachusetts, you remember, was settled by Puritans who had met +persecution in England, and had braved the dangers of the long voyage +and the greater dangers of hunger and illness in a new land, in order +to worship God in their own way. In accomplishing this they became as +intolerant as those from whom they had fled. Indeed there was a far +closer relation of church and state in Massachusetts than in England. +The only liberty the fathers allowed was the liberty to believe just as +they believed. They were right, others were wrong, and on this theory +they regulated everything, both religious and civil. + +Until their own house could be built, Mistress Anne Hutchinson and +some of the children lived at the Reverend Cotton’s; and for the three +years the family remained in Boston, their home was across the street +from John Winthrop’s. Almost immediately this house became the social +center of the town and Anne Hutchinson had a leading place among the +three hundred inhabitants and the fast friendship of the brilliant +young Englishman, Sir Harry Vane, then serving a term as governor of +the colony. The women loved her for her goodness of heart, her cheerful +neighborliness, her great skill in nursing. Both men and women welcomed +her intellectual and magnetic personality. She had a vigorous mind, +a dauntless courage, a natural gift for leadership; she was capable, +energetic, amiable. + +And there was another reason why the women liked her. The colonists had +two church services on Sunday, with sermons sometimes three hours long; +Thursday lectures, and a Saturday night meeting. There was also during +the week religious discussion for the men. Mrs. Hutchinson started +meetings for women--a new departure, for never before had women met +for independent thought and action. At first this won high approval. +The women--forty, sixty, sometimes eighty of them, even a hundred, for +they came from near-by towns as well as from Boston homes--were soon +holding regular meetings to review the sermons of the Sunday before, +with Mistress Anne’s comment and interpretation. + +“All the faithful embraced her conference,” a contemporary record +describes the gatherings, “and blessed God for her fruitful discourses.” + +But from a review of the sermons to discussion and criticism of them +and the ministers as well was a short step. It soon began to be said +that Anne Hutchinson cast reproaches on those who preached “a covenant +by works” instead of the “covenant by grace” in which she fervently +believed. Such freedom of speech could not be tolerated by the good +Puritans, and a theological dispute arose which threatened the very +life of the colony. There were two parties, grace and works. Politics +became a matter of Hutchinson opinions, for political lines and +religious lines coincided exactly. Indeed there was no separation of +church and state; the leaders of one controlled the policy of the other. + +From the beginning of the colony the preachers had had an unlimited +influence. Now they complained that “more resort to Mrs. Hutchinson +for council about matters of conscience than to any minister in the +country.” Moreover this grace and works difficulty was carried into +every phase of life. Some people turned their backs contemptuously and +walked out of meeting when a preacher not under a covenant of grace +entered the pulpit. Others interrupted the services with questions of +controversy. Indeed it was carried so far that when the Pequot Indians +became aggressive and dangerous and it was necessary to send troops +against them, the Boston soldiers refused to be mustered into service, +because the chaplain, drawn by lot, preached a covenant of works, and +they disagreed with his Sunday sermon! The whole town of Boston, the +whole colony of Massachusetts, church and state, were set in commotion +and turmoil. This theological quarrel was a stumbling block in the way +of all progress. + +The ministers so freely criticized were embittered and determined +to call Mistress Hutchinson and her doctrines to account. So they +summoned a synod, all the clergymen and magistrates of Massachusetts, +who met in Cambridge for full three weeks, discussing some eighty-two +opinions which they condemned--some as dangerous, some blasphemous, +some erroneous, and all unsafe. The women’s meetings were forbidden as +“disorderly and without rule.” + +Forbidden to speak in public Anne Hutchinson continued to hold meetings +in her own house. Roger Williams, who was shortly to feel the full +displeasure of the Puritan leaders, said that in view of her usefulness +as a nurse and a neighbor, she ought to be allowed to speak when she +chose and to say what she wished, “because if it be a lie, it will die +of itself; and if it be truth, we ought to know it.” + +The authorities in Massachusetts were in constant dread of losing their +charter, which was especially endangered by reports of disorderly +proceedings. And certainly nothing had provoked so much disorder +and sedition as the course taken by Mistress Anne. Both politically +and religiously they felt it a duty to suppress her party. So in +October, 1637, she was brought to trial before the General Court of +Massachusetts, sitting in the meeting-house in Cambridge. + + “Mrs. Hutchinson,” said Winthrop, presiding, “you are called here as + one of those that have troubled the peace of the commonwealth and the + churches here.... You have maintained a meeting and an assembly in + your house that hath been condemned by the general assembly as a thing + not tolerable nor comely in the sight of God nor fitting for your + sex, and notwithstanding that was cried down you have continued the + same. Therefore we have thought good to send for you to understand how + things are, that if you be in an erroneous way we may reduce you that + so you may become a profitable member here among us, otherwise if you + be obstinate in your course that then the court may take such course + that you may trouble us no further.” + +This trial was at once a civil, judicial and ecclesiastical process, +lasting through two long weary days. Extremely tiring and exhausting +must have been the examination, for the deputy-governor complained +that they would all be sick from fasting! The forty-three men who +tried her were like an English court of High Commission, almost like +the Inquisition. For Anne Hutchinson had no lawyer. They even kept her +standing until she almost fell from fatigue, before they allowed her to +answer seated. + +Governor and deputy, magistrates and judges were arrayed against her. +They examined and cross-examined her. They badgered and insulted and +sneered at her. They browbeat and silenced her witnesses, in absolute +disregard of fair play. Only one man of them all defended her, saying +with spirit, “There is no law of God that she has broken, nor any law +of the country, and she deserves no censure.” + +They found it no easy thing to make her trap herself. Their fine +theological distinctions were familiar ground to her. She had a ready +grasp of scriptural authority, and wonderful skill in using her +intellectual power to prove her spiritual position. With the ability +and clearness of a trained advocate she conducted her case, showing +tact and judgment and self-reliance, and always with the demeanor of +a lady. What Winthrop described as her “nimble wit and voluble tongue” +never deserted her, though she was hard pressed by the keenest minds of +the colony. + +When they failed to prove her women’s meetings opposed to the Bible, +they fell back on the argument of their authority and said, “We are +your judges, and not you ours, and we must compel you to it.” + +When she answered to some of their questions, “That’s matter of +conscience, sir,” stern Governor Winthrop replied, “Your conscience you +must keep, or it must be kept for you.” + +It was the deputy-governor who summed the whole matter up: + + “About three years ago we were all in peace. Mrs. Hutchinson from that + time she came hath made a disturbance.... She hath vented divers of + her strange opinions and hath made parties.... She in particular hath + disparaged all our ministers.... Why this is not to be suffered, and + therefore being driven to the foundation and it being found that Mrs. + Hutchinson ... hath been the cause of what is fallen out, why we must + take away the foundation and the building will fall.” + +The result of the trial might have been announced before it opened. +Read how the court record finishes: + + “Governor Winthrop: The Court hath already declared itself satisfied + concerning the things you hear, and concerning the troublesomeness + of her spirit, and the danger of her course amongst us, which is not + to be suffered. Therefore if it be the mind of the Court that Mrs. + Hutchinson, for these things that appear before us, is unfit for our + society, and if it be the mind of the Court that she shall be banished + out of our liberties, and imprisoned till she be sent away, let them + hold up their hands.” + +All but three held up their hands. + + “Governor Winthrop: Mrs. Hutchinson, you hear the sentence of the + Court. It is that you are banished from out our jurisdiction as being + a woman not fit for our society, and you are to be imprisoned till the + Court send you away. + + “Mrs. Hutchinson: I desire to know wherefore I am banished. + + “Governor Winthrop: Say no more. The Court knows wherefore, and is + satisfied.” + +Semi-imprisonment Mistress Anne had all that winter, in the house of a +man in Roxbury whose brother was one of her most bitter enemies. She +was sent up to Boston to be admonished by the elders of the church; and +when she refused to sign an absolute retraction of her opinions, and +would not promise to hold any more meetings, she was excommunicated. + +The sentence of banishment was carried out in March of 1638. To the +sorrow of many of the colonists, William Hutchinson went with his wife. +He refused their invitations to remain, saying, “For I am more dearly +tied to my wife than to the church.... And I do think her a saint and +servant of God.” With husband and children and seventy friends Mistress +Anne went to Rhode Island where Roger Williams offered the party a +friendly refuge. From the Indians they bought an island, for ten coats, +twenty hoes, and forty fathoms of white wampum; and lived there until +1642 when William Hutchinson died. + +Hearing a rumor that Massachusetts was trying to extend her control +over Rhode Island, the settlers left for a new site in the Dutch colony +to the west. A year later a friendly Indian one morning visited Anne +Hutchinson’s house. Seeing that the family was defenseless he returned +that night with others of his tribe, killed the sixteen members of the +household and set fire to the buildings. + +When Governor Winthrop heard of this massacre he declared that +“the bare arm of God displayed itself in her death.” Ministers in +Massachusetts announced it a divine judgment supporting their verdict. +One of them wrote, “God’s hand is more apparently seen herein to +pick out this woful woman to make her and those belonging to her an +unheard-of heavy example above others.” But Mistress Anne’s friends +charged the guilt of her murder upon the colony and declared it was the +judgment of the Lord on Massachusetts. + +An able woman, clever, brilliant, possibly indiscreet in her criticism +of the ministers, Anne Hutchinson’s life was a strange mixture of +consecration and conflict, of kindliness and contention, with a tragic +end. She was fighting the first battle in a long series to be fought +out in America--for religious toleration and for freedom of thought and +speech, for liberty of conscience, for a true democracy in religion. + + + + + CHAPTER III + + BETSY ROSS + + 1752-1836 + + +In 1752 the eighth child was born in the Quaker family of Griscom in +Philadelphia, and was named Elizabeth. Nine other children came after +her, so with a total of sixteen brothers and sisters you may be sure +she never had much opportunity to be lonely. Perhaps the large number +of children is the explanation for her being apprenticed at Webster’s, +the leading upholstery establishment in the city. There Elizabeth +became acquainted with John Ross, one of her fellow-apprentices; their +friendship grew to love, and when she was twenty-one they were married. +Now John Ross was the son of an Episcopal clergyman and because of that +fact Elizabeth was “disowned” by the Friends for her marriage. + +Soon afterward they left Webster’s and opened a little upholstery shop +of their own, in a two-story house on Arch Street--a quaint little +house that was old then, for it was built of bricks that came over +to America as ballast in one of William Penn’s vessels. It is still +standing, in a good state of preservation, and very little changed from +the old days, with its wide doors, big cupboards, narrow stairs and +tiny window-panes. The front room was the shop, where Elizabeth and +John waited on customers; and next to this was the back parlor. + +Now Elizabeth Ross was not only an energetic and trained upholsterer, +she was also the most skilful needlewoman in Philadelphia, and had +a great reputation for embroidering and darning. There was a story +current of a young lady visiting in the city, who wanted an elaborately +embroidered frock mended. She was directed to take it to Mistress Betsy +Ross. And the owner said, when it was finished, that the darning was +the handsomest part of the gown! Considerable artistic skill had Betsy, +too, for she could draw free-hand, very rapidly and accurately, the +complicated designs used in those days for quilting. Withal she was a +thoroughly efficient housekeeper. + +The happiness of the Ross family was not to last long. The spirit of +liberty was awakening among the colonists, the spirit of resistance +to the demands of the mother country. In common with many patriotic +women, Betsy Ross saw her husband march away for military service. With +several other young men he was guarding cannon balls and artillery +stores on one of the city wharves along the Delaware River, when +he received a serious injury, from the effects of which he died in +January, 1776, after long and anxious nursing on the part of his young +wife. He was buried in the Christ Church burying-ground; and in that +historic old Philadelphia church you can still see the Ross pew, marked +with the Stars and Stripes. + +There was Betsy Ross, a widow at twenty-four. She determined to +maintain herself independently, if possible, and to continue alone the +upholstery business they had developed together. About five months +after her husband’s death, some time between the twenty-second of May +and the fifth of June, she was one day working in the shop when three +gentlemen called. + +The first was General Washington, in Philadelphia for a few days to +consult the Continental Congress. Mistress Ross had frequently seen +him, for the story is that he had visited her shop more than once, to +have her embroider the ruffles for his shirts, an important branch of +fine hand-sewing in those days. With him was Robert Morris, to go down +in history as the treasurer and financier of the Revolution; and her +husband’s uncle, Colonel George Ross, a signer of the Declaration of +Independence. + +These gentlemen had come to consult her. She knew, of course, how the +various banners carried by troops from the different colonies, as +well as by different regiments, had caused confusion and might mean +danger. It was time to do away with the pine tree flag, the beaver +flag, the rattlesnake flag, the hope flag, the silver crescent flag, +the anchor flag, the liberty tree flag, and all the rest of them, and +have a single standard for the American army. Betsy Ross had heard, +too, of the Cambridge flag, often called the grand union flag, which +Washington had raised the New Year’s day before, a flag half English, +half American, with thirteen red and white stripes, and the crosses of +St. George and St. Andrew. But since the first of the year events had +moved rapidly and the desire for separation from England had become +steadily stronger. A new flag was needed, to show the growing spirit of +Americanism--which was soon to crystallize on the fourth of July. + +All this Betsy Ross knew, as a good patriot would. And she could not +have been greatly surprised when General Washington said they had come +to consult her about a national flag. + +“Can you make a flag?” he asked. + +Modestly and with some diffidence she replied, “I don’t know, sir, but +I can try.” + +Then in the little back parlor Washington showed her a rough sketch he +had made--a square flag with thirteen stripes of red and white, and +thirteen stars in the blue canton. He asked her opinion of the design. +With unerring accuracy of eye she saw at once what was needed to make +the flag more beautiful, more attractive. She suggested that the +proportions be changed, so that the length would be a third more than +the width; that the thirteen stars should not be scattered irregularly +over the canton, but grouped to form some design, say a circle or a +star, or placed in parallel rows; and lastly that a five-pointed star +was more symmetrical than-one with six points. + +“But,” asked Washington, “isn’t it more difficult to make?” + +In answer practical Betsy Ross took up a piece of paper, folded it +over, and with one clip of her scissors cleverly made a perfect star +with five even points. + +That was sufficient, and the general drew up his chair to her table +and made another pencil sketch, embodying her three suggestions. The +second sketch was copied and colored by a Philadelphia artist, William +Barrett, a painter of some note, who returned it to Mistress Ross. +Meantime not knowing just how to make a flag, for it must be sewed in a +particular way, she went to a shipping merchant, an old Scotchman who +was a friend of Robert Morris, to borrow a ship’s flag as a guide. + +And in this way Betsy Ross made the first Stars and Stripes. To try the +effect, the new flag was run up to the peak of one of the vessels in +the Delaware River, the story goes, a ship commanded by Paul Jones; and +the result was so pleasing that on the same day the flag was carried +into Congress and approved. At the same time the Congress passed a +resolution putting Paul Jones in command of the _Ranger_. + +“The flag and I were born the same day and hour,” Jones used to say. +“We are twins, we can not be parted in life or death. So long as we can +float, we shall float together. If we must sink we shall go down as +one.” + +It was not until June 14, 1777, that the Continental Congress passed +a resolution formally adopting this flag as the national standard, a +resolution reported to have been introduced by John Adams. Another and +unexplained delay followed, for not until September was this resolution +publicly promulgated. + +The fact that Betsy Ross was not named in the _Congressional Record_ +has been considered by some sufficient evidence that the whole story +is a myth. But there is no Congressional record whatever about the +Cambridge flag, which was used for almost a year. Is it surprising then +that its modification was not put on record promptly? There was no +newspaper notice of the resolution of June fourteenth, the basis of +our modern flag day. And in all the letters and diaries and writings +of the time, there is found no mention of this flag resolution. Betsy +Ross had made the flag months earlier, and all that time it had been +gradually coming into use. Does not that explain the apparent lack of +interest? This story she told, over and over and over, to her daughters +and grandchildren, and in later years they wrote the account down, just +as they had heard it from her, and as you have read it here. + +We know too from other records that before the flag was officially +adopted by Congress, Elizabeth Ross was engaged in flagmaking. For +in May of 1777 the state navy board of Pennsylvania passed an order +to pay her the sum of fourteen pounds, twelve shillings and two +pence, for making ships’ colors for the fleet in the Delaware River. +And immediately after the resolution did pass, she was authorized +to proceed at once to manufacture a large number of flags for the +Continental Congress. + +For more than fifty years Betsy Ross continued to make government +flags, with her daughters and nieces, and later her grandchildren, +helping her. She continued to sew red and white stripes together and +put five-pointed stars on the blue canton, even after her second +marriage to a sea captain, while he went back and forth to Europe +on his dangerous business, and during his imprisonment in England, +where he died. When his friend, who had been a fellow-prisoner, was +finally released and returned to Philadelphia to deliver to Betsy Ross +her husband’s little property, she married this messenger and kept +on making flags. Except for a brief residence with her daughter, she +continued to live in the quaint little house on Arch Street where the +flag was born. Shortly before her death she became completely blind; +but her busy fingers must keep on stitching, and with her little +grandsons to sort the colors for her, she sewed happily on carpet rags. + +When Mistress Ross retired from the business of making flags her +daughter Clarissa took over this work and carried it on until 1857. +Flags of many kinds they made--for army and navy, for arsenals and +the merchant marine; flags with thirteen stars in a circle, like a +round-robin to show that one state should have no precedence over the +others; flags with stars in parallel rows of four, five and four; flags +with fifteen stripes and stars; flags bearing the arms of Pennsylvania, +painted on the silk by William Barrett. + +It was George Washington, more than any other, who seems to have been +most interested in the question of a national flag. But it was to the +skilled needlewoman that he took his first rough design, to have her +opinion of its worth. It is to Betsy Ross that much of the beauty of +our flag is due. A true patriot of Revolutionary times, her humble life +is an incentive to others, showing that there is more than one way to +serve the nation--even if one is known only as a maker of ruffles. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + MARY LINDLEY MURRAY + + 1720-1782 + + +Except for one day’s events the story of Mrs. Murray is quickly told. +A famous Quaker belle in Philadelphia was the beautiful Mary Lindley. +After her marriage to Robert Murray, a merchant, she lived near +Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and in North Carolina, until in 1753 they +moved to New York City, where Murray and Sansom soon became one of the +great merchandising firms of the time. There were a dozen children in +the Murray household, one son being Lindley Murray, the grammarian. +Hoping the milder climate would benefit her husband’s health, Mrs. +Murray took her family to England where they lived for eleven years, +returning to America during the first year of the Revolution. + +Always a belle, she is described as a lady of great dignity and +stateliness of manner, mild and amiable, quick at repartee. She and +her daughters were ardent patriots, but Mr. Murray, the rich merchant +and landowner, was not unnaturally a Tory, loyal to the Crown. Shortly +before peace was made with England, after the success at Yorktown had +crowned Washington’s efforts for America, Mrs. Murray died. + +But on the fifteenth of September, 1776, Mary Lindley Murray gave aid +to Washington, her contribution to the War for Independence being +woman’s wit and beauty. That September was a difficult month for the +patriots. At the end of August had come the British victory at the +battle of Long Island, and Washington’s skilful retreat to Manhattan. +As usual Howe was dilatory in following and not until sixteen days +later did he cross with his troops. + +The fifteenth of September was a hot day. From their country house on +a hill near the center of Manhattan Island the Murrays looked down on +the new breastworks thrown up at Kip’s Bay. They knew the Americans +were scattered--the main force at the north on Harlem Heights, and +Putnam’s men far to the south. Then up the East River sailed five +British men-of-war and anchored opposite the Murray house, in the bay. +Before the handful of militiamen had time to wonder why the ships had +come, out swarmed a number of dories. To the Murrays, watching from +the hill half a mile away, the river seemed suddenly dyed scarlet, for +under cover of the warships’ guns eighty-four boats landed the British +soldiers, while up the bank clambered four thousand Redcoats, driving +the Americans before them. At the first fire, the Continentals fled +from their trenches back to higher ground, fled in head-long retreat. + +Four miles to the north Washington heard the booming of cannon +and galloped down to the scene of action. To his astonishment and +consternation his men were flying in all directions. Riding excitedly +into the midst of the runaways he shouted, “Take to the wall! Take to +the cornfield!” His attempt to rally them was vain. Chagrined he would +have ridden straight into danger, had not an aide seized his horse’s +bridle and turned the general back toward safety. In great confusion +and disorder the post at the bay was deserted. And there were Putnam’s +divisions to the south, separated from the main army, caught in a trap +if the British threw their men across the island. + +Now this was exactly General Howe’s plan, but he failed to count Mrs. +Murray into his scheme. From the bay he marched west for a half-mile +until he came to the Murray house. Set in a wide lawn, with extensive +gardens on either side, “Belmont” was considered one of the loveliest +spots on the island. Its fair mistress had heard the firing, had seen +the disorderly retreat and realized what the Americans needed most of +all was time. She would make it for them! + +She posted a maid in the cupola of the great square mansion, with +orders to report to her by signals how Putnam was progressing. It was +a season of extreme drought, and the dense clouds of dust made it +easy to follow his march. At the proper time Mrs. Murray sent a negro +servant with a cordial invitation to General Howe and his staff to dine +with her. This genial Quaker lady was not unknown to the Britishers, +for they had met her in England. Here was an opportunity to renew the +acquaintance of peaceful days, but duty first, for a general. + +“I do thank you, madam,” was Howe’s courteous reply, “but I must first +catch that rascally Yankee, Putnam.” + +“Did thee not hear he had gone?” was her quick rejoinder. “It is too +late to catch him. Pursuit is hopeless. Thee had better come in and +dine.” + +If Putnam was really out of reach there was no need for haste, and +the day was sweltering. So across the broad veranda and into the cool +attractive house went Howe, with Clinton and Cornwallis and Governor +Tryon, and others of his staff. Outside, in the hot September sun, his +men rested and prepared and ate their midday meal. Within, Mrs. Murray +and her beautiful daughters proved charming hostesses, with a warm +welcome for their English guests. The good merchant, who was known to +be heartily loyal to the king, was not at home that day, but his rare +old Madeira was served with dainty cakes after the dinner. + +So witty and delightful was the talk, so keenly did the others enjoy +Tryon’s raillery of their hostess about her patriot friends and how +the ragged Continentals had run that morning, that not one of them +noticed the rapid flight of time. And you may be sure that Mistress +Murray prolonged their stay, bearing the teasing with rare good humor +and making herself thoroughly agreeable, for every moment gained would +count. + +Meanwhile, half a mile to the west, Putnam was hurrying northward, +his march greatly hampered by his cannon, his camp impedimenta, and +the refugee women and children. Terribly they suffered from the heat. +Alexander Hamilton gallantly led one company. A young major, Aaron +Burr, acted as guide, for he knew every foot of the ground; riding +back and forth he showed the patriots bypaths and lanes through the +thickets, until ahead they saw Washington’s tents on the heights of +Harlem, and knew they were safe. Through Mrs. Murray’s hospitality the +British had lost their chance to take four thousand prisoners. Her own +wit and her husband’s wine had saved the day. + +Behind the Harlem entrenchments the patriots were ready for Howe’s +attack the following morning, and a spirited encounter that was in +the buckwheat field. But the British failed to capture the heights +and so force Washington off the island. Counted only by the number of +men engaged, this was really not a great battle, but it was a great +victory for the Americans who had lost heart after their defeat on +Long Island and their forced evacuation of New York. It restored their +confidence and put new hope into their hearts. It clinched Washington’s +determination and made possible the brilliant exploits at Trenton and +Princeton. + +In Revolutionary journals kept by American and British soldiers you +will find Howe’s delay at the Murray home given as the reason for +Putnam’s escape. And it was a common saying among the Americans that +the beautiful Quaker lady had saved “Old Put,” the wolf-killer, and his +four thousand men. For patriotism and courage do not exist only behind +a bayonet. One can be heroic in any way that conquers circumstances. + + + + + CHAPTER V + + MOLLY PITCHER + + 1754-1832 + + +Mary Ludwig, the daughter of a German settler, was born on a small farm +between Princeton and Trenton in New Jersey. Her father was a dairyman +and Molly, like other children of her parentage, was brought up to work +hard. A typical German peasant girl, heavy-set, strong and sturdy, she +toiled in the fields, she milked the cows, and drove them to pasture. +The story is that she could swing a three-bushel sack of wheat to her +shoulder and carry it to the upstairs room of the granary; and this +strength and endurance stood her in good stead years later, for after +the battle of Princeton she picked up a wounded soldier, carried him +two miles to a farmhouse, and there nursed him back to health. + +A Mrs. Irvine from Carlisle, visiting in Trenton, wished to take a +young girl home with her to help in the housework. She saw buxom Molly +Ludwig, liked her honest face and wholesome, energetic appearance, and +on her return took the German girl with her. For some years Molly lived +with Doctor and Mrs. Irvine, and proved to be a valuable assistant in +their home. She did not like sewing, but she was expert at scrubbing +and scouring and washing--any kind of violent exercise! + +Near the Irvines’ house was a little barber shop kept by an Irishman, +John Hays. Whenever Molly was scrubbing the front steps or scouring +the door-knocker, the young barber was sure to be watching from his +window. When the girl was about sixteen years old, this courting ended +in marriage. + +Then suddenly Carlisle heard the news of Lexington, nothing but war +was talked of. Doctor Irvine, who had served in the French and Indian +campaigns, was colonel of a Pennsylvania regiment. Hays went as gunner +in the artillery, and when his time was out reenlisted under Colonel +Irvine. + +“I’m proud to be a soldier’s wife,” was Molly’s answer when he told +her he must go. “I’ll stand by you!” But neither of them guessed that +this would literally come true. No slacker, she waved him a cheerful +good-by, and went on with her household duties for Mrs. Irvine. But +when a few months later Hays sent her word to go back to her father’s, +as the troops were encamped near by and he could see her occasionally, +she too said, “I must go,” and rode off behind the messenger. At home +again Molly donned her rough farm garments, helping with the cattle, +working in the fields as before. And frequently John Hays paid a flying +visit to the little farm, and Molly occasionally went to visit him in +camp. + +During the Revolution it was not unusual for wives to accompany their +soldier husbands, not to fight, but to wash and mend and cook, to care +for the sick and wounded. Once while Molly was cooking for the men, +she had a large kettle over the fire which she wanted to remove, so +she called to a passing soldier to help her. His prompt compliance and +kindness of manner made her ask his name, and she was so astonished +that she almost dropped the kettle when she heard his reply, “I am +General Washington.” + +Hays and Doctor Irvine were both soldiers. Molly’s heart was with them +and with the country, fighting for independence. All she needed was +the opportunity to show of what mettle she was made. This came at the +battle of Monmouth Court House. + +After the winter’s drilling at Valley Forge, Washington followed +closely behind Clinton, who was marching across New Jersey from +Philadelphia. The British had an enormous amount of baggage and their +line was twenty miles long. The Americans waited for the chance to +attack. Cornwallis brought his men into line of action opposite Lee, +who ordered a retreat. Washington’s angry rebuke to Lee, plus the +splendid work of Mad Anthony Wayne and Lafayette and Knox and Greene, +saved the day for the patriot army. Lee’s record was stained by this +traitorous action. The outstanding hero of the day was Molly Hays. + +It was a very hot June Sunday. The blazing sun beat down on both +armies with scorching, record-breaking heat. Men and horses were +well-nigh overcome. The Americans, however, had the advantage, for +they were dressed for summer weather and had left their packs by the +meeting-house at Freehold. The British had heavy woolen uniforms and +full knapsacks. The Hessians carried in addition to all this the load +of decorations which Frederick the Great thought necessary for his +soldiers. + +The air was sultry. Not a leaf stirred on the maple trees. Men dropped +fainting to the earth, from sunstroke. Yet the American guns were fired +vigorously, sending their sh’ot across the swamp into the British +ranks, and until night the battle went on. Sometimes under shelter, +sometimes under fire, Molly Hays went back and forth to the spring, +carrying water for the suffering men, and for wetting the sponges to +swab out the cannon. And the weary thirsty soldiers, welcoming the +sight of her with the sparkling water, would call out gratefully, “Here +comes Molly with her pitcher!” a call soon shortened to “Molly Pitcher!” + +On one of her trips from the well Molly saw her husband fall suddenly. +Accounts differ as to whether he was wounded, or had a sunstroke +working in the blistering heat near the cannon. General Knox, in +charge of the battery, had no competent man to put in Hays’ place and +was about to withdraw the gun, when Molly sprang forward, seized the +rammer and fired. A moment was sufficient to show that she could fill +her husband’s position, that she had the strength and nerve for his +task. The men cheered as she loaded and fired shot after shot, with +the skill of a veteran gunner. Her hair disheveled, her eyes blazing, +her hot face begrimed with powder and smoke and dust, barefooted like +many of the soldiers, she kept on with her perilous work. That night +the British stole silently away, leaving their dead and wounded, with +Washington in possession of the field. This victory was the last battle +of importance in the North, the beginning of a brighter period for the +Americans. + +The story of Molly Pitcher’s brave act spread through the camp. General +Greene thanked her, “in the name of the army.” The next morning in her +dusty, torn, powder-stained dress, she was presented to Washington. +With such honor as he would have shown to one of his gallant men, +he spoke a few words of sympathy and praise, gave her a sergeant’s +commission, and later placed her name on the list of half-pay officers +for life. + +An old Revolutionary rhyme tells the story: + + “Moll Pitcher she stood by her gun + And rammed the charges home, sir; + And thus on Monmouth’s bloody field + A sergeant did become, sir.” + +Hays was the proudest man in the army, at Washington’s praise of his +wife, when he heard the soldiers cheer her to the echo. Lafayette asked +if his men “might have the pleasure of giving Madame a trifle,” and +invited Molly to review his troops. Between two long lines of French +officers she passed, and at the end her hat was filled with gold crowns. + +Until the close of the Revolution, Molly Hays, or Molly Pitcher, as +she was always called, remained with the army; and following her +husband’s death, shortly after the war ended, she lived for many +years at the Carlisle barracks, cooking and washing for the soldiers. +In 1794 she saw General Washington again, for when he was traveling +through Pennsylvania, he stopped near Carlisle, and Molly Pitcher made +a pilgrimage on foot to see him. When her story was recalled to the +general he greeted her most cordially. + +In 1822 the legislature of Pennsylvania, without a dissenting voice, +voted her the sum of forty dollars, and an annuity of that amount +during her lifetime. When she died ten years later, she was buried with +military honors, a company of soldiers firing a salute. On the Fourth +of July, 1876, there was unveiled at her grave a white marble monument +inscribed to “Molly Pitcher, the heroine of Monmouth.” And each year +on the thirtieth of May, along with the score of Revolutionary graves +in the churchyard, hers is decorated with flowers by the people of +Carlisle. + +In the little park at Freehold a monument was erected to commemorate +the victory of Monmouth Court House, and on one of its five panels +Molly Pitcher is shown, barefooted, ramming home the charge, her +husband lying exhausted at her feet. She was a real heroine, when the +need came, a true and courageous soldier. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + MARTHA WASHINGTON + + 1732-1802 + + +On a great Virginia plantation in the year 1732 Martha Dandridge was +born. Her father was a prominent landowner and his daughter had the +usual education of the time--not much schooling in comparison with +to-day, but she learned to play the spinet, to dance gracefully, and +to sew with all the mysteries of elaborate stitches. A well-behaved, +pretty child she was who at fifteen made her début in Williamsburg, +the capital of Virginia, which then afforded the gayest social life in +America. Dressed in a stiff bodice and flowered petticoat, Martha was +the belle of the ball, and of many succeeding ones as well, for at once +she became a great favorite. + +When she was barely eighteen she married Daniel Parke Custis, a +wealthy landowner, who was more than twenty years her senior. They +lived near Williamsburg at his country home, the “White House.” Seven +years later he died, leaving her with two young children and a great +fortune--thousands of pounds and thousands of acres of Virginia land. + +In May, 1758, Mrs. Custis was visiting at Major Chamberlayne’s, when +her host brought an unexpected guest--none other than young Colonel +George Washington, already a military hero and commander of the +Virginia troops. He was en route to Williamsburg to report to the +governor on the needs of his regiments, and when Major Chamberlayne +pressed him to stop, he had at first refused, but yielded when told +that the prettiest and richest widow in all Virginia was there. + +He would stay for dinner then, but must go on at once, and gave orders +accordingly to his servant, Bishop, bequeathed to him by General +Braddock. But when dinner was over and the horses were brought round +no Washington appeared, though Bishop had never known his master to be +late before. In the drawing-room the young colonel and the young widow +were talking, oblivious to everything else, while the impatient steeds +pawed the drive restlessly. Till the day was done and twilight at hand +Washington loitered. + +“No guest can leave my house after sunset,” said the major, and +insisted that he must stay the night. Late the next morning Bishop +and his master rode away to Williamsburg. The little widow in the +white dimity frock, with the cluster of May-blossoms at her belt, and +the little white cap half covering her soft, wavy brown hair, had +completely captivated the soldier. His business in the town completed, +he rode on to the “White House.” + +“Is your mistress at home?” he asked the negro who met him at the ferry. + +“Yes, sah,” was the reply, and the man added, his white teeth flashing +in a broad smile, “I reckon you’s the man what’s ’spected!” + +Evidently he was, for when, on the following day, Washington left for +camp and the western campaign against Fort Duquesne, the two were +engaged. + +In January, 1759, when they had met just four times, Mrs. Custis and +George Washington were married. A brilliant scene the wedding was. +The guests included wealthy planters and their wives and daughters, +all very grand in their satins and brocades, English officers in army +and navy uniforms, the governor of Virginia, in scarlet embroidered +with gold, with a bag wig. The groom wore a blue suit, the coat lined +with scarlet silk and trimmed with silver, an embroidered white satin +waistcoat, with knee and shoe buckles of gold; while in contrast to +his six feet two was the little bride in a petticoat of white quilted +satin, with an overdress of white corded silk interwoven with silver +threads, high-heeled satin shoes with diamond buckles, point lace +ruffles and pearls. At the door, attracting almost as much attention as +the wedding party, stood Bishop in his red coat, holding his master’s +chestnut horse. + +With her three bridesmaids Mrs. Washington drove to her home in a coach +and six, while her husband and a group of his friends rode beside them. +Thus began their forty years of married life. + +After a few months in Williamsburg, to settle the business of the +Custis estate and to attend the meetings of the House of Burgesses, of +which Washington had been elected a member during his campaign against +the French, he took his bride to Mount Vernon, his eight-thousand acre +plantation on the Potomac River. Here they planned to live quietly, he +busy with his fields and flocks, she with the large household, and both +enjoying the growth of the Custis children. In a white apron and cap, +with a bunch of keys jingling at her side, Mrs. Washington supervised +the busy kitchen and slave quarters, looked after the strict training +and the lessons of the children, and was a charming hostess to their +guests. + +But public affairs changed and with them this quiet happy life. The +stamp act and oppressive taxes stirred the colonies. Like many patriot +women, Martha Washington ceased using tea at her table, ceased to buy +English cloth and other goods of English manufacture. No less than +sixteen spinning-wheels were kept busy at Mount Vernon, and on the +looms homespun was woven for the family’s clothing and for the large +number of slaves. + +Rapidly events moved to a crisis. The first Continental Congress was +called, and Washington elected as one of Virginia’s three delegates. +When the party started north Mrs. Washington saw them off with these +words of wifely appreciation, “I hope you will all stand firm. I know +George will. God be with you, gentlemen.” + +And this was not idle talk on her part, for she foresaw plainly the +consequences. At the many discussions and debates which had occurred at +their home, for and against English policy, she had said little, but +had listened intelligently. She summed it up in writing to a friend: + + “Dark days and darker nights, domestic happiness suspended, social + enjoyments abandoned, property put in jeopardy--but what are all these + evils when compared with the fate of which the Port Bill may be only a + threat? My mind is made up, my heart is in the cause.” + +The second Congress met the following May and Washington was +unanimously chosen commander-in-chief of the army. He wrote this news +to his wife at Mount Vernon, adding that he hoped to return in the +autumn. Instead he then invited her to come to him in Cambridge, but +carefully pointed out the difficulties of the journey. Unhesitating, +undismayed, a true soldier’s wife, she set out for the long trip to +the North, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to +leave the ease and security of her southern home and spend the winter +in a New England camp on the outskirts of a city held by the enemy. + +The coach with its four horses, and postillions in white and scarlet +livery, attracted great attention. In the country people rushed to +doors and windows to get a sight of her. In the towns she was met by +escorts of Continental soldiers, the ringing of bells, and enthusiastic +cheering. With a mingled feeling of pride and wonder this little woman, +who had never been out of Virginia, realized what it was to be the wife +of General Washington. + +This was a real farewell to the quiet plantation and the beginning +of her public life. Except for the year when Trenton and Princeton +and active winter campaigning made it too dangerous for women to be +present, it was Martha Washington’s custom to join her husband when +the army went into winter quarters, and to march back home when work +opened with the spring. Thus she heard the first and last gun of every +campaign, and described herself as a perambulator for those eight years. + +Because she was the wife of the general, it did not follow that she +could live in luxury. In Cambridge to be sure headquarters were in +the Craigie House, later the home of the poet Longfellow; and here +Mrs. Washington had some social life, with the wives of the Harvard +professors. But in other places lodgings were often very, very +uncomfortable, “a squeezed-up room or two.” At Valley Forge a log +cabin was built--near a Quaker farmhouse where the Washingtons had +two rooms--to serve as a kitchen and dining-room; but when this same +plan was proposed for the headquarters at Morristown, no lumber was +available! At Newburgh their inconvenient dining-room had one window +and seven doors, and the sitting-room was so small that when Washington +entertained a French officer, the guest had to sit on a camp bed. + +Martha Washington’s presence lessened the general’s cares and broke +the monotony of the long anxious winters. She was always a delightful +hostess and even with camp limitations her hospitality and genial +manner reminded her guests of Virginia. Nearly every day some of the +young officers and their wives were invited to dinner, the General and +Mrs. Washington sitting side by side, while Alexander Hamilton carved. + +Martha Washington was always a simple, dignified woman, as a group of +Morristown ladies who went to call upon her testified. Having heard +that the general’s wife was a very grand lady, they wore their best +bibs and bands, and most elegant silks and ruffles. Mrs. Washington, in +a plain homespun dress and a “specked” (checked) apron, received them +very graciously, a half knit stocking in her left hand, the ball of +yarn in her pocket. After the usual compliments were over, she resumed +her knitting. + +“And there we were,” described one of the women afterward, “without a +stitch of work, and sitting in state, but General Washington’s lady was +knitting socks!” + +She showed them two dresses of cotton and silk, woven at Mount Vernon, +the stripes made from ravelings of brown silk stockings and old +crimson damask chair covers. She took pains to tell them that the +livery of her coachmen was all homespun, save for the scarlet cuffs, +made of English material imported long before the war. + +After that visit, work for the soldiers, rather than fine feminine +clothes, became the fashion in Morristown. + +At another New Jersey headquarters Washington was staying at a private +house, whose mistress one day saw a coach drive up to the door, with +ten dragoons as the escort. Out stepped a plain little woman dressed +in brown homespun, wearing a hood; over her bosom was folded a large +white kerchief. She must be a maid, thought the hostess, until she saw +General Washington greeting her, and inquiring about the children, and +his favorite horses at Mount Vernon. The general’s wife, dressed like +that! + +Everywhere the soldiers loved Lady Washington, as they called her. +During the sad winter at Valley Forge, when the army was in desperate +straits, suffering greatly from lack of food and blankets and clothing, +and the consequent constant sickness, she went to share the soldiers’ +privations and make a spot of cheer in their dreary lives. She arrived +in a rough farm sleigh, hired from the innkeeper at the forks of the +Brandywine, where the deep snow had forced her to abandon her coach. +Stanch patriot that she was, she made light of inconveniences and +discomforts and hardships; and never was a woman busier than Martha +Washington, all that dismal winter. In a cloak and hood, with her +basket on her arm, she went in the deep snow from hut to hut, carrying +delicacies for the sick and consolation for the dying, and by her +sympathy and generosity stimulating the loyalty and courage of the +men. “God bless Lady Washington!” was frequently heard, when her kind, +motherly face appeared. + +Day after day she assembled in her two rooms the wives of the +officers, to knit and patch, and make new garments whenever materials +could be secured. No more embroidering and spinet playing, and other +light accomplishments! The work these women did at Valley Forge was +far-reaching in its effects. News of it spread to Philadelphia, where +the British were having a gay winter, and the patriotic ladies there +commenced making shirts for the soldiers, and ultimately contributed +nearly three thousand garments. Small in amount, perhaps, in comparison +with such service to-day; but Martha Washington was a pioneer, +anticipating the work of the Sanitary Commission and the American Red +Cross. + +Officers, soldiers and women, all were steadied by her serenity and +unwavering faith. And when the middle of March brought better times, +she led in the camp gaiety. The news of the French alliance was +celebrated with a grand review. The soldiers cheered for the king of +France, for the thirteen states, for their general; then there came +shouts of “Long live Lady Washington!” and a thousand hats were tossed +into the air in the excitement. + +Yorktown and victory, and the end of the war in sight, but Washington +must remain on duty until peace was actually signed. Martha Washington +was present, sitting in the gallery of the old capitol at Annapolis, +when he resigned his commission; and together they drove to Mount +Vernon, arriving on Christmas Eve. Standing at the door of his cottage +to welcome them was old Bishop, dressed in the scarlet regimentals he +had worn at Braddock’s defeat. All the servants and slaves assembled, +and such a Christmas celebration as Mount Vernon had! + +More than all else the Washingtons longed for quiet days on their +plantation, to enjoy the rest they so much needed. But there +were guests innumerable, so that Mount Vernon was described as +a well-resorted tavern. When he had been home almost two years, +Washington wrote in his diary, + + “Dined with only Mrs. Washington, which I believe is the first + instance of it since my retirement from public life.” + +This furlough, as the general used to speak of it, was not destined +to continue overlong. The federation of the states proved too weak a +government, and Washington must go to Philadelphia for months, to sit +as president of the Constitutional Convention. Then after the people +had ratified the Constitution, there came one day riding up the broad +drive at Mount Vernon the aged secretary of Congress, with a letter +notifying George Washington that he had been elected president of the +United States. + + “I little thought when the war was finished,” wrote Martha Washington, + “that any circumstances could possibly have happened which would call + the General into public life again. I had anticipated that we should + have been left to grow old in solitude and tranquillity together. That + was the first and dearest wish of my heart.... Yet I can not blame him + for having acted according to his ideas of duty in obeying the voice + of his country.” + +Alone to New York for the inauguration went George Washington, wearing +a homespun suit woven at Mount Vernon. When his wife, likewise dressed +in homespun, followed a few weeks later, her welcome all along the +journey was second only to his. She entered many a town between two +long columns of Revolutionary soldiers; and at New York City she was +rowed across the bay by thirteen oarsmen dressed in white, while the +guns fired thirteen rounds and crowds cheered her. + +As the president’s wife, Martha Washington was hostess for the nation, +entertaining distinguished citizens and foreigners, cabinet officers +and congressmen, presiding at the state dinners and giving public +receptions every Friday, where plum cake, tea and coffee were served. +The guests were always dismissed before nine, with her grave, frank +little formula, “For the general always retires at nine, and I usually +precede him.” The need over, she laid aside her homespun and dressed in +silk, satin, velvet and lace, as became the wife of the president. + +People criticized Mrs. Washington for the ceremony in force at her +levees, saying they were too much like those of royalty. Guests were +shocked because they had to stand, while the truth was, the rooms +would not have contained a third enough chairs. Presided over by the +Washingtons, the executive mansion combined with the most ardent +patriotism a dignity and elegant moderation that would have honored +any European court. They saved the social life of a new country from +both the crudeness and bald simplicity of extreme republicanism, and +from the luxury and excesses often marking sudden elevation to power +and place. And in all these social functions Mrs. Washington never +joined in any political discussion. Though the letters between her and +her husband were filled with talk of public affairs, she was never +once heard to utter any opinion on important questions of state; and +in this, as in many details of her life, she is a worthy model for any +American woman whose husband is in public service. + +The year in New York was followed by similar years in Philadelphia, +after the capital was moved there. The second term of the presidency +over and a third term refused, the Washingtons gladly returned to +Virginia; their joy being evidenced in this letter: + + “I can not tell you how much I enjoy home, after having been deprived + of one so long, for our dwelling in New York and Philadelphia was + not home, only sojourning. The General and I feel like children just + released from school or from a hard taskmaster, and we believe that + nothing can tempt us to leave the sacred roof tree again, except on + private business or pleasure. I am fairly settled down to the pleasant + duties of an old-fashioned Virginia housekeeper, steady as a clock, + busy as a bee, and cheerful as a cricket.” + +Happily they lived at Mount Vernon two years, until the general’s +death. During his brief illness Mrs. Washington never left his room. + +“’Tis well,” were his last words. + +“Is he dead?” she asked, so gentle had been the change. “’Tis well. All +is over now. I shall soon follow him. I have no more trials to pass +through.” + +She moved up to a little attic room whose windows looked out toward his +grave, and beyond to the waters of the Potomac which he had so loved. +Surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, cheerful in +her sorrow and loneliness, she survived him two years, and when she +died, was buried beside him in the simple brick tomb at Mount Vernon. + +A woman not wise nor great perhaps in any worldly sense, Martha +Washington had those qualities of heart that make a noble rounded +character. A devoted and loyal wife, a tender mother, an earnest +Christian, she was fitted to be the chosen companion of “the greatest +of our soldiers and the purest of our patriots.” Serene and kindly, in +the familiar white cap and kerchief, she has become the nation’s ideal +of the president’s wife, our country’s first hostess. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + JEMIMA JOHNSON + + 1753-1814 + + +Of Jemima Johnson, pioneer and volunteer, I can tell you very little. +Just this one incident has come down to us, but you are surely right +in thinking that the rest of her life was in harmony with this day’s +heroism. + +It happened in Kentucky, when the Revolutionary fighting was almost +ended, but before peace had come to the frontier. Raid after raid on +isolated settlements was made by the Indians, stirred up continually by +the British in Canada. People were murdered and tortured with shocking +barbarity, for once started the red men could not be controlled. Chief +among them were the Wyandottes, a tribe that stood first for military +skill and ferocious valor, and with them was the notorious renegade, +Simon Girty, whose name was a byword and a hissing along the frontier. + +Bryan’s Station was a Kentucky settlement of forty cabins connected +by strong palisades, set in a clearing with thick woods all around. +One August day in 1782 messengers arrived, saying that the Indians +were threatening to attack a neighboring fort and asking for aid. The +men at Bryan’s made ready to go and at dawn Captain Craig had finished +his preparations when he discovered a group of savages in full view, +just on the edge of the woods. There were only a few of them, and +being out of rifle range they were exposing themselves carelessly and +indifferently. + +“They’re trying to attract our attention,” Craig immediately said to +himself. “Do they think that because they’re few we’ll leave the fort +and pursue them?” + +Their actions made him suspicious, for he had been trained in Indian +fighting in the school of Daniel Boone. He ordered the relief party to +wait while he called the principal men of the station to a council. +They agreed that it was only a feint on the part of the savages to +invite an attack, and that the main fight would come from the other +side. They would meet one trick with another and beat the Indians at +their own game. + +But the siege would be severe, perhaps long. Nothing could be done +until they had a supply of water--and the spring was not inside the +palisade, as was the frontier custom, but a short distance away, near +the very spot where the red men were hiding in the thick woods. The +night before only the ordinary amount of water had been brought in. +The buckets were empty, and it was a hot August day. Life inside the +stockade, even though there were no battle, would be unendurable. +Captain Craig thought a moment, then called up the women and children, +and told them his plan. + +“Will you, you women and you children who are large enough, go down to +the spring, with every bucket you can carry, and bring back water? Our +lives depend upon it. We think the Indians are hidden near the spring, +waiting. Now if you’ll go, just as you do every morning, I think +they’ll not molest you, for that would break up their plan. As far as +we can we’ll cover you with our rifles. You see, don’t you, that this +is our only hope? If we men go to the spring, it would be so unusual +that it would rouse their suspicions at once; and if we were shot +down, there would be no one to save the fort and you. Will you go?” + +They were quick to appreciate the situation. Of course Captain Craig +might be all wrong in his theory. The savages might capture the women +and children, right under the eyes of the men in the fort. No one could +tell what they might do. It was a terrible state of affairs. They +knew what capture meant--death by torture. They had not lived on the +frontier for nothing. A shudder of terror went through the group. + +Water we must have. + +The men can’t go for it. + +We women will. + +Such were the steps Jemima Johnson’s thoughts took, and instantly she +volunteered. The Spartan daughter of a fearless pioneer, the sister of +others, the wife of another, Jemima Suggett Johnson was also the mother +of five little children, and her husband was away in Virginia. But she +was the first to offer to go. + +Quickly she gave her orders: Betsy, who was ten, was to go with her; +Sally, to look after the two little boys as well as watch baby +Richard, in his cradle. Now who would go with her for the water? + +Armed with wooden dippers, the wives of the Craig brothers and their +children volunteered. Others quickly offered. Captain Craig opened +the gate and out they marched after Captain Johnson--twelve women and +sixteen children--true helpmates of those sturdy frontiersmen. They +were nearly overcome with terror, yet they laughed and chatted as +they tramped down the hill some sixty yards to the spring. A few of +the younger ones found it hard to hide their agitation, but Jemima +Johnson’s steadiness and cool composed manner reassured them and +completely deceived the savages. + +Within a stone’s throw the Indians were concealed, and with eager +covetous eyes watched the women filling their buckets. It took some +time to dip up water for so many, but Captain Johnson had said each +must wait until they were all ready to start back. Then deliberately +they made their way up the hill to the fort, and not a shot was fired, +for the Indians, in the hope of carrying out their original plan, did +not betray their presence. + +Some of the children, as they neared the gate, broke into a run and +crowded into the door of the stockade, but only a little of the +precious water was spilled. With sighs of relief the fifty men in the +fort saw their wives and children safe again, and the supply of water +stored away. + +Then Captain Craig began to carry out his part of the scheme. Thirteen +of his men were sent to the front of the fort, to engage the Indians +there, with as much noise and confusion as possible. This, he guessed, +was the signal agreed upon for the main body of savages to attack at +the back of the stockade. So at the loopholes there he posted the rest +of his men, with strict orders to make no move, to fire not a gun, +till he gave them word. Hearing the noise at the front of the fort, +the Indians near the spring dashed from cover and up to the back wall, +which they supposed was undefended. They shouted their savage war +cries, expecting an easy victory. Then suddenly the stockade bristled +with rifles, and a steady fire was poured into the Indians massed for +the attack. With cries of terror they fled to the woods; but all day +long the firing continued. Deaths in the fort were very few, but any +Indian who exposed himself was sure to be killed by the unerring shot +of a frontiersman. Two savages climbed a tree, to fire from there, but +were quickly dislodged. They shot burning arrows up into the air, to +fall on the roofs of the buildings, but the plucky children put out +the fires as fast as they were started. Betsy Johnson even tossed one +arrow off baby Richard’s cradle. The women who had brought the water +that made this long defense possible, molded bullets and loaded rifles, +repaired breaches in the palisade, and sometimes took their places at +the loopholes. + +At last the Indians decided their efforts could not succeed, so they +killed the cattle, burned the fields of grain, and made the country +look like a desert. Then they stole away in the night. + +Thus Bryan’s Station was saved, due in large measure to Jemima Johnson +and her party of women who brought in the water. Years later the baby +Richard commanded the Kentucky regiment whose brilliant charge decided +the battle of the Thames. He, it was believed, killed the Indian chief +Tecumseh. And this same son of Jemima Johnson became vice-president of +the United States. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + SACAJAWEA + + 1790-1884 + + +During the last years of the eighteenth century, in an Indian village +along the banks of the Snake River, just west of the Bitter Root +Mountains, in what is now the state of Idaho, a little girl was born. +She was named Sacajawea (Sah-cah″-jah-we′ah), which in English means +“Bird-woman.” Of her early life there is little to tell. She doubtless +lived as did the rest of her tribe, grinding corn into meal, providing +the food, always out-of-doors, alert and resourceful. + +When she was about nine years old the Shoshones (or Snake Indians, as +they were sometimes called) were attacked suddenly by their hereditary +foe, the Minnetarees of Knife River. They hastily retreated three miles +up-stream and concealed themselves in the woods, but the enemy pursued. +Being too few to contend successfully, the Shoshone men mounted their +horses and fled, while the women and children scattered, but were soon +captured. Sacajawea tried to escape by crossing the river at a shallow +place, but half-way over was taken prisoner. + +Eastward the captives were hurried, to a Minnetaree village near the +present city of Bismarck, North Dakota, and here the girl Sacajawea was +sold as a slave to Toussaint Chaboneau, a French half-breed, a wanderer +and interpreter for the Northwest Fur Company. When she was about +fourteen, an age considered womanhood among the Indians, Chaboneau +married her. + +In October of that year, 1804, there was much excitement in the +village. Up the river from the south came a great boat, filled with +white men, who, finding a good site for their camp on an island not +far from the Minnetaree wigwams, landed, built a number of log huts +and remained throughout the winter. From all the region roundabout the +inquisitive Indians were continually visiting these white men whose +errand was strange though peaceable. Not to make war, but to travel far +to the west had they come. Among their supplies were many things about +which the savages were curious. The squaws particularly were attracted +by a mill that would grind their maize, enviously comparing its ease +and speed with their slow methods. They longed for many articles in +the white men’s packs, and were glad to barter their corn for blue and +white beads, for rings and for cloth. There was constant trading, and +many, many were the questions asked about the great unknown country to +the north and west. + +A Canadian half-breed served the two white leaders of the party as +interpreter. They also talked through Chaboneau, who knew both French +and an Indian dialect, and who one day pointed out Sacajawea to them +saying proudly, “She my slave, I buy her from de Rock Mountain, I make +her my wife.” When they heard who the Bird-woman was, they invited +her and her husband to go with them on their long journey. He could +interpret for some of the tribes, she for the Shoshones, for she had +not forgotten the language of her childhood. + +On the eleventh of February Sacajawea’s son Baptiste was born, and +a merry little papoose he proved to be. The travelers started west +on the seventh of April, Chaboneau accompanying them, and Sacajawea +carrying her baby, not quite two months old; every step of that +five-thousand-mile journey she carried him, so that he was the most +traveled papoose in the land. + +Taking the Bird-woman with them was an extremely wise measure on the +part of the leaders, Lewis and Clark. Her presence was a sure guarantee +that their intentions were peaceful, for no Indian tribe ever took a +woman in their war parties. For the whole group of men the presence of +this gentle, virtuous, retiring little woman and her baby must have had +a softening, humanizing effect, greater than they were aware. Near the +fire she would sit, making moccasins and crooning a song in her soft +Indian monotone, while the baby toddled about, the two giving a touch +of domesticity to that Oregon winter. + +There were many heroes of this journey to the Far West, but only one +heroine--this modest, unselfish, tireless squaw. With the strongest of +the men she canoed and trudged and climbed and starved, always with +the baby strapped on her back. Long dreary months of toil she endured +like a Spartan. Instead of being a drag on their progress she was time +and again the inspiration, the genius of the expedition. And in their +journals both Lewis and Clark gave her frequent credit for her splendid +services and frankly acknowledged in terms of respect and admiration +their indebtedness to her. + +One May afternoon when the travelers had been five or six weeks on +their journey and were making good time with a sail hoisted on their +boat, a sudden squall of wind struck them. The boat nearly went over, +for Chaboneau, who was an interpreter and not a helmsman, lost his +head, let go the tiller and called loudly to God for mercy. The water +poured in and the boat was almost capsized before the men could cut the +sail down. Out on the stream floated valuable papers and instruments, +books, medicine, and a great quantity of merchandise. Always plucky +in trouble, Sacajawea, who was in the rear, saved nearly all of these +things, which were worth far more than their intrinsic value, since +to replace them meant a journey of three thousand miles and a year’s +delay. No wonder that Clark added, when speaking of the quick action +of the Bird-woman, “to whom I ascribe equal fortitude and resolution +with any person on board at the time of the accident.” + +Soon after this, from the tenth of June to the twenty-fourth, Sacajawea +was very ill. One of the white captains bled her, a process that must +have seemed strange to the Indian girl, but from their journals one +can see that excellent care was taken of her. The party must continue +on its way, so she was moved into the back part of the boat which +was covered over and cool. All one night the Bird-woman complained, +refusing the medicine offered her, while Chaboneau made constant +petition to be allowed to return with his squaw. + +The leaders were concerned for Sacajawea for they knew enough of +medicine to see that her case was serious. And they were also concerned +for the expedition’s sake, for she was their sole dependence to +negotiate with the Shoshone Indians on whom they relied for help. Lewis +therefore determined to make camp till she was entirely restored. He +persuaded her to take some laudanum and herbs and two days later wrote +in his diary: + + “Indian woman much better to-day. Continued same course of medicine. + She is free from pain, clear of fever, her pulse regular, eats as + heartily as I am willing to permit her of broiled buffalo well + seasoned with pepper and salt and rich soup of the same meat.” + +The next day she improved rapidly, sat up for a time and even walked +out. But alas! this brief period of convalescence Sacajawea evidently +thought sufficient, and the following morning she + + “walked out and gathered a considerable quantity of white apples + of which she ate so heartily in their raw state, together with a + considerable quantity of dried fish without my knowledge that she + complained very much and her fever returned. I rebuked Chaboneau + severely for suffering her to indulge herself with such food, and gave + her diluted nitre and thirty drops of laudanum.” + +The next day, however, she appeared to be in a fair way for recovery, +walking about and fishing, so the party again started westward. + +Nine days later, while Clark, Chaboneau and Sacajawea were making a +portage, they noticed a black cloud coming up rapidly in the west. +Hunting about for shelter they found a ravine protected by shelving +rocks. Clark had laid aside his gun and compass, the Bird-woman her +baby’s extra clothes and his cradle, when suddenly rain fell in such a +torrent that it washed down rocks and earth from higher up the gorge. A +landslide followed but just before the heaviest part of it struck them, +the white captain seized his gun in one hand and with the other dragged +Sacajawea, her baby in her arms, up the steep bank. Chaboneau caught at +her and pulled her along, but was too frightened to be of much help. + +Down the ravine in a rolling torrent came the rain, with irresistible +force, driving rocks and earth and everything before it. The water rose +waist high and before Clark could reach the higher ground had ruined +his watch. The compass and the cradle and the baby’s clothes were +washed away. By the time they reached the top of the hill the water +was fifteen feet deep in the ravine. Anxious lest little Baptiste take +cold and fearful that Sacajawea should suffer a relapse, Clark hurried +the group to camp with all possible speed and gave the Indian woman a +little spirits to revive her. + +Toward the end of July they came to a country which Sacajawea knew. At +first she was guided by instinct, like a homing bird. Then she began +to recognize familiar landmarks, for this was where she had lived as +a little girl. Both as guide and interpreter she was now the leading +individual in the party, and of invaluable service. Often the white +men could not see plainly the buffalo paths and Indian trails, but she +divined them immediately. During her childhood she had traveled this +road often, for it was the great resort of the Shoshones who came there +to gather quamash and to trap the beaver. + +Reaching the three forks of the Missouri River she advised that they +follow the southern branch, as that was the route her tribe always took +when crossing into the plains. One of their camps, the Bird-woman said, +was on the very spot where she herself had been taken prisoner. + + “She showed no distress at these recollections,” comments the record, + “nor any joy at the prospect of being restored to her country, for + she seems to possess the folly or philosophy of not suffering her + feelings to extend beyond the anxiety of having plenty to eat and a + few trinkets to wear.” + +But that Sacajawea had no emotions was clearly a mistaken inference, +for the journal, a few days later, has an interesting story to tell. +Hoping to find an Indian trail that would lead to a tribe which could +supply them guides and horses, they landed, resolved to succeed if it +took a month’s time. It seemed a forlorn search, but at all costs these +two necessities must be had. + +With Chaboneau and his wife, Clark was walking along the shore, the +Indians a hundred yards ahead, when Sacajawea began to dance and show +every mark of the most extravagant joy, turning round to the white +captain, pointing to several Indians approaching them, and sucking her +fingers to show that they belonged to her tribe. Suddenly a woman made +her way through the crowd, ran toward her and embraced her with the +most tender affection. Companions in childhood, they had been taken +prisoner at the same time and had shared captivity. Finally the one +had escaped, while the other was left to be sold as a slave to the +half-breed interpreter. A peculiarly touching meeting this was, for +they had scarcely hoped ever to see each other again, and now they were +renewing their friendship. + +The two white captains meanwhile had a long conference with the +Shoshone chief. After smoking together, gifts were exchanged. Then +in order to converse more intelligently, Sacajawea was sent for. She +sat down and began to translate, when, looking intently at the Indian +chief, she recognized him as her brother. Jumping up she ran to him, +embraced him, threw her blanket over him and wept. The chief himself +was moved. Sacajawea tried to go on with her work of interpretation, +but seemed overpowered by the situation and was frequently interrupted +by tears. + +Cameahwait, the Shoshone chief, agreed to aid the white men, giving +them horses and guides, in which business Sacajawea was of the greatest +help. She had a long talk with her brother, telling him of the great +power of the American government, of the advantages he would receive by +trading with the whites, and completely won the good will of her nation +as she did that of other tribes they met. She persuaded her people to +make the white men’s journey through their country possible. + +Now the chief wealth of the Shoshone Indians was in their small wiry +horses, fleet and sure-footed. Fine presents the white chiefs gave in +exchange for pack-horses--an axe, a knife, a handkerchief and a little +paint, all for one horse. As long as the supply of kettles held out, +a kettle and a white pony were considered an even trade. Sometimes +instead of the coveted kettle Clark would give a sword, a hundred +bullets and powder, with some additional small articles. Once three +horses were bargained for with one of the Indians, who left, the proud +possessor of a chief’s coat, handkerchiefs, a shirt, leggings and a few +arrow points. One day after many wares were offered in exchange for +otter skins, Sacajawea gave the precious beads which she wore around +her waist. + +The Bird-woman was invaluable also as an interpreter. The captains +would speak in English, which was put into French by one of the men, +Chaboneau then repeated it in the Minnetaree dialect to his wife, who +translated it into the Shoshone tongue which was understood by an +Indian boy in the party, and he in turn told it to the tribe with whom +Lewis and Clark wished to talk. Do you wonder that when possible they +all used sign language, and relied still more on the language of gifts? + +The Americans were surprised that Sacajawea showed no desire to remain +with her own people, but her loyalty and devotion to the explorers were +unfailing. Once she learned of threatened treachery on the part of her +tribe, that they planned to break camp and go down the Missouri River +to the buffalo country on the east, taking with them the horses which +had been promised to the white men. This would leave the newcomers +stranded in the mountains, the lack of horses preventing their going +westward. Immediately she told Lewis and Clark, who called the chiefs +together, and after some discussion the plan was changed. By the end of +August, with a replenished larder and fresh horses, the explorers were +ready to start once more on their journey westward. + +The road, Sacajawea told the white captains, was over steep and rocky +mountains, in whose fastnesses they would come to the narrow divide +marking the source of the Missouri River. An hour later they would +find a stream running west, that would grow into a large river and flow +on till it came to the great waters far away. But there was no food +along its course, no paths along its rocky banks, no canoes could swim +on its rough current. If they went on they must follow rude Indian +trails where there was no game. For ten days they must cross a sandy +desert. In many places travel would be slow. + +Slow progress indeed it was, on this toilsome, dangerous journey. +Some days five miles was the best they could make; other days they +went forward scarcely at all. Food became scarce, and among the men, +as winter weather came on, there was much sickness. Once they had a +six-day storm that drenched everything they had on. And by this time +their supply of dried meat and fish was exhausted. + +They followed obscure windings of Indian trails, known only to the +savages. Sometimes they made their way through wild cañons strewn with +stones; sometimes they climbed painfully up a rough slippery height, or +skirted the edge of a precipice. Almost a month was spent in getting +through the mountains. Cold, half-starved, fatigued, ragged, footsore, +they came out on the other side, more like fugitives than conquerors. + +What would they have done without Sacajawea? Dauntless and determined, +always cheerful and resourceful, she had in her care the lives and +fortunes of the whole party. It was she who gathered plants unknown +to the white captains and cooked them into a mush. It was she who +varied their monotonous diet by roasting, boiling and drying fennel +roots, and stewing wild onions with their meat. It was she who found +berries and edible seeds when starvation seemed the only outcome. She +searched in the prairie dogs’ holes with a sharp stick and discovered +wild artichokes, as valuable as potatoes, with a delicious flavor. She +taught the white men how to break shank bones of elk, boil them and +extract the grease to make “trapper’s butter.” When Clark was ill she +made bread for him with some flour she had saved for her baby--the only +mouthful he tasted for days. + +Late in November they reached the coast and spent the winter, a forlorn +group, at Fort Clatsop. There was much sickness and the strength of +the men began to fail. There was nothing but dried fish for food, and +it rained and rained till their clothes and bedding rotted away. + +They had a strange celebration on Christmas day, when the men sang +songs in the morning, and the Bird-woman brought a gift to Clark--two +dozen white weasels’ tails! + +In January during a brief interval of sunny weather, they planned to +go to the beach to get oil and blubber from a whale that was reported +stranded there. Sacajawea had heard of the Pacific in the legends of +her tribe, she had heard of whales too, and begged to be allowed to go. +Had she traveled all that long way only to fail to see the great waters +and the great fish? So Clark agreed that she should accompany them. +When they arrived the Indians had already disposed of the whale, the +skeleton, a hundred and five feet long, being all that was left. + +Because of sickness and scant stores of food, bitterly disappointed +when no trading ships appeared with fresh supplies, they began the +return trip early in March instead of in April. Progress was so rapid +that the journey which westward had lasted for full eight months, was +made in five, and six weeks of this time was taken up by a detour. The +party divided and Clark, with Chaboneau and Sacajawea as guides, went +to explore the Yellowstone. + +In August they were once more at the Minnetaree village where the +Bird-woman had first seen the white captains and their mill for +grinding corn. Here the leaders said good-by to their Indian friend and +guide. Clark offered to take the family to the states, give them land, +horses, cows and hogs to start farming, or a boatload of merchandise +as a stock for trading. But Chaboneau preferred to remain among the +Indians, saying he had no acquaintance in the East and no chance of +making a livelihood. Clark then offered to take the baby, “my little +dancing boy Baptiste,” now eighteen months old, and bring him up as his +own child, but Sacajawea refused. + +Chaboneau’s wages, together with the payment for a horse, were five +hundred dollars and thirty-three cents. The records say not a word of +any sum for Sacajawea whose faithfulness and intelligence had made +success possible. She who could divine routes, who had courage when the +men quailed, who could spread as good a table with bones as others with +meat, was unthought of when bounties in land and money were granted. + +Writing back to Chaboneau a few days later, Clark did indeed give her +full credit when he said: + + “Your woman who accompanied you that long and dangerous and fatiguing + route to the Pacific Ocean and back deserved a greater reward for her + attention and services on that route than we had in our power to give + her at the Mandans.” + +Chaboneau’s money probably served to establish his family very +comfortably in the village in Dakota. You can imagine what stories they +told of their adventures during the long winter evenings--of the wild +animals they met, of their escape from the cloudburst at the Great +Falls, of the mysterious, explosive sounds heard in the mountains, of +the portages they made, of shooting the rapids in the Columbia, of +their struggle among the snows of the Bitter Root range, and of the +great salt ocean at the sunset--for they had taken part in the most +remarkable exploration of modern times. + +For many years there is no record of Sacajawea. Clark, as +superintendent of Indian affairs, in 1837 appointed Chaboneau +interpreter, with a salary of three hundred dollars. And there is one +official item, an expense account for a boy (possibly Baptiste) in +school at Saint Louis, which was paid to Chaboneau, in 1820. The little +papoose who traveled all that long journey grew up to be a guide, with +his mother’s native instinct and cleverness. He served with Bridger +in southwest Wyoming; he is mentioned with Fremont in 1842 and from +sometime in the sixties he lived on an Indian reservation in Fremont +County, Wyoming. + +Sacajawea was there with him after 1871. An old, old woman, she is +described by one of the missionaries, Doctor Irwin, short of stature, +spare of figure, quick in her movements, remarkably straight and +wonderfully active and intelligent considering her great age. She +often told of her journey to the place of “much water for the great +Washington,” as the government was always referred to, and talked of +the “big waters beyond the shining mountains, toward the setting sun.” +And on that reservation she died and was buried. + +The journey of the two white captains pushed the frontier from the +Mississippi to the coast. It burst through the Rocky Mountain barrier +and opened the gates to the Pacific slope. It gave the nation a rich +territory from which ten states were formed. But the services of +Sacajawea had for many years no lasting commemoration. Shortly after +the adventure in the boat the leaders did indeed name a river for the +Bird-woman, one of the branches of the Musselshell in central Montana, +but the very first settlers changed it from Sacajawea to Crooked Creek +and so it is called to-day. In very recent times the Geological Survey +named for her the great peak in the Bridger range overlooking the spot +where she was captured, and where she pointed out the pass over the +mountains--a route chosen years later by the engineers of the Northern +Pacific Railroad. This place was also marked with a boulder and tablet +by the Montana chapter of the Daughters of the Revolution. + +That is all that remains of Sacajawea--a peak bearing her name, and her +story. A century after her long journey the women of Oregon erected, +in the center of the great exposition court at Portland, a bronze +statue of the noble Indian girl whose faithful service as a guide made +possible the success of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + DOLLY MADISON + + 1772-1836 + + +Dolly Payne was a Virginian, though she was born while her parents +were on a visit in North Carolina. She lived on a great plantation +where she had wide fields to play in, and a devoted black mammy to look +after her. Both her mother and grandmother were noted belles and Dolly, +who was named for her second cousin, Mrs. Patrick Henry, evidently +inherited their beauty, for as a very little girl, going to school, she +wore a wide-brimmed sunbonnet and long mitts, to shield her face and +arms from the sun. + +Dolly remembered how her father, in spite of the fact that they were +Quakers, had buckled on his sword and ridden away to be a captain in +the Revolutionary army, and how when the war was over, he came home +again to join in the neighborhood’s thanksgiving for America. + +Soon after the war, when Dolly was fourteen years old, he freed his +slaves, sold the plantation, and moved north to the city of brotherly +love that he might be among Quakers. It was then the largest town in +the nation, with a reputation for being very rich and gay. But the +Paynes maintained a strict Quaker standard of simplicity. + +Dorothy was a pretty girl, demure in her gray dress, but with bright +Irish-blue eyes, long lashes, curling black hair and soft warm-hued +skin. She had a particularly gay and joyous disposition, but was +forbidden such pleasures as dancing and music. She went to the +Friends’ meeting-house where the men and boys in their black coats and +broad-brimmed hats sat on one side of the room, the women and girls in +their mouse-colored bonnets and drab gowns on the other. + +Dolly’s father had done very well on the southern plantation, but when +he went into business in Philadelphia he found many troubles. Living +cost much more than in Virginia, a good deal of his property had been +lost through the war and he failed, then ill health added its burden. +A rich young Quaker lawyer named John Todd helped and advised him. He +had fallen in love with Dolly, and though she meant never to marry, she +consented, to please her father who had only a few months more to live. + +On two successive Sundays she went through the embarrassing Quaker +ceremony of rising in meeting and saying she proposed taking John Todd +in marriage; and standing up before the congregation, they were married +in the somber bare-walled meeting-house. Mistress Todd lived for three +years the life of a Quaker lady, and a devoted wife she was to her +young husband. She always wore a cap of tulle, a gray gown, with a lace +kerchief over her shoulders and a large brooch fastening it--no other +ornaments. Except for her beauty she was like a hundred other young +Quaker women in the city of brotherly love. + +In August of 1793 an epidemic of yellow fever broke out in +Philadelphia. Todd sent his wife and their two little children to a +summer resort on the river, where many of their friends took refuge. +He stayed in the city to care for his father and mother but they died +of the plague. Already ill himself he joined his family, only to +give them the dread disease, he and the baby dying shortly after his +arrival. Dolly too was stricken with the fever, but recovered. + +At first she was bowed down by her great loss. But Philadelphia was +gay and gradually Mistress Todd began going about again, far more +freely than in the days of her sober girlhood. She found herself really +enjoying society and all the pleasures of the city. From a shy girl she +developed into a most attractive woman. With her youth and her riches, +it is no wonder that she became the object of much attention. Gentlemen +would station themselves to see her pass, and her friends would say, +“Really, Dolly, thou must hide thy face. There are so many staring at +thee!” + +Among her many admirers was Aaron Burr, then a United States senator. +For Philadelphia, you remember, was the capital of the newly organized +government, and the leading men of the time lived in the city. One day +he asked her if he might bring a friend to call, for the “great little +Madison,” as his colleagues called him, had requested the honor of +being presented. So the handsome Colonel Burr introduced Mr. James +Madison, a little man dressed all in black, except for his ruffled +shirt and silver buckles. Dolly wore a mulberry satin gown with silk +tulle about her neck and a dainty lace cap on her head, her curly hair +showing underneath. The scholarly Madison, who was twenty years older +than she, was captivated by the pretty widow, sparkling with fun and +wit, and soon offered himself as a husband, and was accepted. + +The President and Mrs. Washington were much pleased when they heard of +the engagement. Sending for Dolly Mrs. Washington asked her if the news +was true. + +“No, I think not,” said Mistress Todd. + +“Be not ashamed to confess it, if it is so. He will make thee a good +husband and all the better for being so much older. We both approve +of it. The esteem and friendship existing between Mr. Madison and my +husband is very great, and we would wish you two to be happy.” + +Happy they were, during the week’s journey when they drove down to +Virginia, to be married at the home of Dolly’s sister; and during the +merrymaking following the wedding which lavish southern hospitality, +with, a ball and feast after the ceremony, made quite different from +her first marriage. The quiet reserved Madison let the girls cut off +bits of his Mechlin lace ruffles as keepsakes. And happy they were +together for more than forty years. + +They lived only a short time at Montpelier, Madison’s home in the Blue +Ridge country, for public affairs soon took them back to Philadelphia +and then to Washington. At her husband’s request Dolly laid aside her +Quaker dress, entered society and entertained frequently. Her sweet +manners, her tact and kindness of heart, made her friends everywhere. +At that time party spirit ran high and political differences caused +great bitterness, but all animosities seemed forgotten in Mrs. +Madison’s presence. She slighted no one, hurt no one’s feelings, and +often made foes into friends. Perhaps her influence had almost as much +to do with Madison’s prominence in national affairs as did his own +unquestioned ability; for her sound common sense and exceptionally +good judgment often helped him in deciding public questions. + +When Jefferson was elected president he made Madison his secretary of +state. And since Jefferson was a widower and needed a lady to preside +at the White House, he often called upon Mrs. Madison for this service. +Then Madison succeeded Jefferson and Dolly became in name what she had +been in effect, the first lady of the land. Thus for sixteen years she +was hostess for the nation, and a famous hostess she was indeed. + +“Every one loves Mrs. Madison,” said Henry Clay, voicing the common +sentiment. + +“And Mrs. Madison loves everybody,” was her quick response. + +The president used to say that when he was tired out from matters of +state a visit to her sitting-room, where he was sure of a bright story +and a hearty laugh, was as refreshing as a long walk in the open air. + +But even with such a mistress of the White House the affairs of the +nation did not remain tranquil. Trouble with England, which had long +been brewing, came to a crisis and war was declared in 1812. As most +of the fighting was at sea, life at Washington went on undisturbed +until August of 1814, when the British landed five thousand men near +the capital and marched to attack it. The town was in a panic when the +messenger rode in at full speed, announcing fifty ships anchoring in +the Potomac. + +“Have you the courage to stay here till I come back, to-morrow or next +day?” asked the president. + +And Dolly Madison replied, “I am not afraid of anything, if only you +are not harmed and our army triumphs.” + +“Good-by then, and if anything happens, look out for the state papers,” +said Madison, and rode away to the point where the citizen-soldiers +were gathering. + +Many Washington people began carrying their property off to the +country, but the brave woman at the White House did not run away. At +last there came a penciled note from the president: + + “Enemy stronger than we heard at first. They may reach the city and + destroy it. Be ready to leave at a moment’s warning.” + +Most of Mrs. Madison’s friends were already gone, even the soldiers +who had been left to guard the executive mansion. Not a wagon could be +secured. “Bring me as many trunks as my carriage will hold,” ordered +Dolly Madison and set to work packing them with the nation’s most +valuable papers. Night came but the lady of the White House worked on. +At dawn she began searching through her spyglass, hoping to catch a +glimpse of her husband. All she could see was here and there a group of +soldiers wandering about, men sleeping in the fields, frightened women +and children hurrying to the bridge over the Potomac. She could hear +the roar of cannon, the battle was going on only six miles away; still +the president did not come. + +One of the servants, French John, offered to spike the cannon at the +gate and lay a train of powder that would blow up the British if they +entered the house. But to this Mrs. Madison objected, though she could +not make John understand why in war every advantage might not be taken. + +About three o’clock in the afternoon two men covered with dust +galloped up and cried, “Fly, fly! The house will be burned over your +head!” + +Some good friends had succeeded in getting a wagon and Mrs. Madison +filled it with the White House silver. + +“To the bank of Maryland,” she ordered, and added to herself, “or the +hands of the British--which will it be?” + +Two friends came in to urge haste, reminding her that the English +admiral, Cockburn, had taken an oath that he would sit in her +drawing-room and that other officers had boasted they would take the +president and his wife both prisoner and carry them to London to make a +show of them. They were just ready to lift her into the carriage when +Dolly stopped. + +“Not yet--the portrait of Washington--it shall never fall into the +hands of the enemy. That must be taken away before I leave the house.” + +The famous painting by Gilbert Stuart was in a heavy frame, screwed to +the wall in the state dining-room, but in that frantic hurry there were +no tools at hand to remove it. + +“Get an axe and break the frame,” commanded Dolly Madison. She watched +the canvas taken from the stretcher, saw it rolled up carefully, and +sent to a place of safety. Later it was returned to her, and to-day +hangs over the mantel in the red room of the White House. + +One more delay--the Declaration of Independence was kept in a glass +case, separate from the other state papers. Notwithstanding all the +protests of her friends, Dolly Madison ran back into the house, +broke the glass, secured the Declaration with the autographs of the +signers, got into her carriage and drove rapidly away to a house beyond +Georgetown. + +None too soon did she leave. The sound of approaching troops was heard. +The British were upon the city. They broke into the executive mansion, +ransacked it, had dinner there in the state dining-room, stole what +they could carry, and then set fire to the building. + +Instead of sleeping that night, Dolly Madison, with thousands of +others, watched the fire destroying the capital, while the wind from an +approaching storm fanned the flames. Before daybreak she set out for a +little tavern, sixteen miles away, where her husband had arranged to +meet her. The roads were filled with frightened people, while fleeing +soldiers spread the wildest rumors of the enemy’s advance. + +Arrived at the inn finally in the height of the storm, the woman in +charge refused to take her in, saying, “My man had to go to fight; your +husband brought on this war and his wife shall have no shelter in my +house!” + +The tavern was thronged with women and children, refugees from the +city, who finally prevailed on the woman to let Mrs. Madison enter. The +president arrived later, but before he had rested an hour a messenger +came crying, “The British know you are here--fly!” + +Dolly Madison begged him to go to a little hut in the woods where he +would be safe, and promised that she would leave in disguise and find +a refuge farther away. In the gray of the morning she started, but +soon came the good news that the English, hearing reinforcements were +coming, had gone back to their ships. At once she turned and drove +toward the city. The bridge over the Potomac was afire. + +“Will you row me across?” she asked an American officer. + +“No, we don’t let strange women into the city.” + +In vain she pleaded. He was firm. “We have spies enough here. How do +I know but the British have sent you to burn what they have left? You +will not cross the river, that is sure.” + +“But I am Mrs. Madison, the wife of your president,” she answered, +throwing off her disguise. Then he rowed her across the Potomac. +Through clouds of smoke, past heaps of still smoldering ruins, she made +her way to the home of her sister, and waited there for Mr. Madison to +return. + +While the White House was being rebuilt the Madisons lived in +Pennsylvania Avenue, and a brilliant social life centered about them. +They revived the levees of Washington and Adams, gave handsome state +dinners and introduced music at their receptions. + +When Madison’s second term was ended they went to live at Montpelier, +their beautiful Virginia home, where they entertained with true +southern hospitality the many friends and tourists who visited them. +Mr. Madison, for many years an invalid, busied himself with books and +writing. + +Soon after his death in 1836 Dolly returned to Washington, to be near +her old friends. Her home again became a social center, for her tact +and beauty and grace made her always a favorite and a leader. She +entertained many distinguished guests, “looking every inch a queen,” +the British ambassador declared. Sometimes there were as many visitors +at her receptions as at those at the White House. All the homage of +former times was hers, and much consideration was shown her by public +officials, Congress voting her a seat on the floor of the House. + +Brought up in strict Quaker ways, she adorned every station in life +in which she was placed. And in a crisis when the White House was in +danger, Dolly Madison was courageous enough to delay her departure +till she had saved the Stuart Washington and the Declaration of +Independence. + + + + + CHAPTER X + + LUCRETIA MOTT + + 1793-1880 + + +Lucretia Coffin was a Quaker, born on the quaint little island of +Nantucket. Her father “followed the sea,” captain of a whaler, and +was often gone for long periods of time. So it was the mother who was +responsible for the early training of the six children. Thrift and +efficient housekeeping Lucretia learned, along with the Quaker doctrine +of non-resistance, and a thorough knowledge of the Bible. + +When she was twelve, Captain Coffin forsook the sea and moved his +family to Boston. Public schools there gave Lucretia a feeling of +sympathy for the patient struggling poor which was always a prominent +trait in her character. + +Later she was sent to a Friends’ boarding-school at Nine Partners, New +York, and stayed for two years, with no holidays and no vacation. A +strict school it was, for though both boys and girls were the pupils, +they were not allowed to speak to each other unless they were near +relatives in which case they might talk on certain days over the fence +that separated their playgrounds. Punishment Lucretia Coffin could bear +herself far more easily than she could see some one else endure it; +when for some trifling misdemeanor, a little boy, a cousin of James +Mott, one of the teachers, was locked up in a dark closet and given +only bread and water, Lucretia managed to slip into the forbidden side +of the house and supply him with more substantial food. + +One of the instructors left the school, and fifteen-year-old Lucretia +became an assistant teacher, working with her classes in the daytime, +and with her books by the light of a solitary candle far into the +night. A year later she was made a regular teacher, with a salary of a +hundred dollars, her living and tuition for one of her little sisters. + +The two young pedagogues, James Mott and Lucretia Coffin, found that +they had many ideas in common--ability, and a desire for knowledge and +a wider culture--so they formed a French class and had lessons for six +weeks. Such good friends they became that when she was eighteen and he +a few years older, they became engaged and were married and settled +in Philadelphia. He was quiet, reserved, serious; she bright, active, +very pretty. And after they had worked together for a great cause, they +loved each other more deeply than ever. + +As a very young girl Lucretia Mott had been interested in slavery. +Her sympathy had first been enlisted from reading in her schoolbooks +Clarkson’s vivid picture of the slave ships. Many years later she +repeated word for word a description of the horrors of the “middle +passage,” which she had memorized from a reader. In 1818 on a journey +to Virginia, she had a first affecting glimpse of the slaves themselves. + +This trip to the South was for the purpose of holding religious +meetings, for early that year Lucretia Mott discovered her great +gift--public speaking. Among the Friends it was no uncommon thing for +women to take part in meeting, and Mrs. Mott soon became one of their +favorite preachers. She had a real power over her audiences--her +slight figure, her delicate, charming face in the Quaker bonnet, at +once strong and tender, her sweetness of voice added to the convincing +earnestness of her manner. + +People of all denominations went miles to hear her. Soon she began +traveling around the country, speaking in Quaker meeting-houses, +telling her listeners of the peace-loving principles of the Friends, +pointing out the evils of injustice in any form, and always, in +season and out of season, emphasizing the sin of slavery. Long before +Lundy and Garrison began their newspapers, long before Garrison and +Wendell Phillips were thundering against slavery and urging immediate +emancipation, this small sweet-faced Friend, mild and gentle in nature, +was blazing the way for the anti-slavery movement, a pioneer among the +advocates for freedom. + +Through New York State, into New England and across to Nantucket, +as far south as Virginia, west to Ohio and Indiana, she traveled by +stage-coach or boat or carriage. Speaking at seventy-one meetings +in a ten weeks’ trip seems to have been no unusual record for her. +She always wore a simple, dove-colored dress, with a crossed muslin +kerchief at the neck, and a prim little cap. But the secret of her +magnetic personality was that she spoke because she was conscious of a +power impelling her to do so. Words came to her, as tears come, without +will of her own, because her heart was full and she couldn’t help +it. Though the leading abolitionists were often described as raving +fanatics, Lucretia Mott was noted for her unfailing composure, her +calm tone of profound faith, her lack of vehement accents and violent +gestures. + +“Notice was given here for a religious meeting,” said the distressed +elders in one western town that bordered on a slave state. “We do hope, +Mrs. Mott, you will not name slavery, or allude to it this afternoon.” + +“Why,” was her answer, “that is eminently a religious subject. I should +consider myself disobedient to the voice of God in my soul if I did not +speak against it.” + +Her audience there was so large that many had to stand. Ordinarily they +would have become restless. For an hour and a half she held them, +closely attentive, and though she said some things far from palatable +to that prejudiced, excited, border section, her sincerity commanded +their respect and they crowded the hall again that evening to hear her +speak. + +Gradually the opposition to slavery, which she had been fostering, +won adherents to its cause. The Garrison campaign began. Friends of +freedom came out openly and spoke their views. In 1833 a national +anti-slavery society was formed in Philadelphia. Of the sixty or +seventy delegates, four were women, Lucretia Mott among them. They were +present by invitation, as listeners only. But during the discussion of +the proposed constitution, when one of the women briefly, modestly, +suggested transposing certain sentences, to put first the reference +to the Declaration of Independence, the men were so impressed that +they made the change immediately. But more than this Mrs. Mott, a +listener, accomplished. Her encouragement strengthened and confirmed +their purpose at a critical moment when some overcautious souls urged a +policy of delay. + +The following year the Female Anti-slavery Society was formed, the +majority of its members Friends, and Lucretia Mott served as president +during most of its existence. For women to have an association of +their own was almost unheard of, in the eighteen thirties. They had no +idea of the meaning of preambles, resolutions and voting; and later +they confessed with amusement that they had to invite a colored man to +preside at their first meeting, to get them started. + +In 1840 came a world’s anti-slavery convention in London, and Lucretia +Mott was one of the delegates from the United States. Full of +enthusiasm the first group arrived, only to find that women were not to +be recognized. The doors were shut against them, because of the old, +old prejudice--women should stay at home and be entertaining, public +affairs would rob them of their sweetest charm. + +Wendell Phillips protested and moved that the ladies be admitted. The +excited discussion lasted for several hours, but when the vote was +taken the majority against the resolution was overwhelming. So in +the gallery sat Lucretia Mott, with Harriet Martineau, Mrs. Wendell +Phillips, and other women delegates, and their recruit, Elizabeth Cady +Stanton. + +Arriving some days later, Garrison felt so outraged at this treatment +of his co-workers that he refused to take his seat in the convention. +With two other masculine members from the American Society he sat +up-stairs with the ladies. The British were scandalized--what sort +of world’s convention was this, with the founder of the greatest +anti-slavery movement of the century debarred from taking his seat on +the floor? They sent him a special invitation, but Garrison was firm. +He remembered that Lucretia Mott had been the first to shake his hand +when he came out of prison! + +But before the meetings were over a tea was given with more than +four hundred guests; and there, much to the men’s consternation, +Lucretia Mott spoke. With a dignity that carried great force, with +real eloquence, she chose this way of addressing the convention. The +delegates found themselves listening with pleasure and admiration, and +broke into applause. + +While they were in London, Lucretia Mott had a call from Clarkson, the +English abolitionist, then an old, old man of eighty-one, almost blind, +and they had a long talk together. + +It is difficult for people of to-day to appreciate what peril and +reproach it meant to take a stand against slavery. Individuals who +dared to do so had to face private detraction and public abuse, +sometimes actual physical violence. On the side of slavery was +ranged all the power of trade and politics, of church and state, of +respectability and riot. This opposition became more and more bitter, +more and more popular, more and more widely spread. In equal or greater +ratio the earnestness and zeal of the anti-slavery group increased. +They were held up to odium and ridicule, for the spirit of persecution +was abroad. Lucretia Mott’s old friends scorned her and laughed at her. +They passed her on the street without speaking. + +“But,” said she, “misrepresentation and ridicule and abuse heaped on +these reforms do not in the least deter me from my duty.” + +Mobs of men and women would assemble outside the halls where +anti-slavery meetings were being held. They stoned the windows, they +broke in, leaped on the platform, and shouted so loudly that the +speaker’s voice was lost in the noise. Pennsylvania Hall, dedicated +to “liberty and the rights of man,” was surrounded by a crowd while +Lucretia Mott was addressing an audience of Philadelphia women, and +brickbats were hurled through the windows. The next day, shortly after +the meeting had adjourned, the mob set the hall on fire, then marched +through the streets, threatening an attack on the Motts’ house. The +children were sent away to a place of safety, and the little Quaker +lady, with her husband and a few friends, sat quietly waiting for the +crowd to come. But their fury was turned against another part of the +city and the Motts were safe for that night. + +Shortly afterward they were sitting in the parlor one evening when they +heard confused noises and cries that came nearer and nearer--an angry +rumble hard to describe, but all too familiar to the experienced ears +of negroes and abolitionists. In the crowd was a young man who knew the +Quaker family. “On to the Motts’!” he cried, and purposely ran up the +wrong street, making several quick turnings. The rioters followed him +blindly until he slipped away from them, and a second time the Motts +were saved from violence. + +In New York City an anti-slavery meeting was broken up by the crowd +and Garrison and other speakers roughly handled. Lucretia Mott, whose +fears and thoughts were never for herself, always unshrinking and +self-possessed in the stormiest scenes, noticed that some of the women +looked timid. + +“Won’t thee look after the others?” she asked the gentleman who +accompanied her. + +“Then who will take care of you?” + +“This man will see me through,” she said, putting her hand on the arm +of a big ruffian in a red shirt. Roused by this unexpected appeal to +his chivalry he made way for her through the crowd and escorted her +safely to the house where she was staying. + +The next day in a restaurant near the hall, she recognized him and +sitting down at his table began talking with him. When he left he asked: + +“Who is that lady?” + +“Lucretia Mott.” + +Dumfounded for a moment he shook his head and then said, “Well, she’s a +good sensible woman!” + +In her own home Lucretia Mott sheltered fugitive slaves, till it became +widely known as a place of refuge. Many a poor negro she helped on his +way to Canada, by the Underground Railroad. In the entrance hall of +the Mott house there stood two roomy armchairs which the family called +“the beggars’ chairs,” for there applicants, rich and poor, known and +unknown, black and white, waited to see Mrs. Mott. + +Almost incredible was the opposition she met. Even the gentle Quakers +reproached her for “lugging in” slavery at their meetings. Many of +them wished she would resign. A minority wanted to disown her. They +refused the use of their meeting-houses for abolition lectures. When +she was speaking away from Philadelphia they allowed her to stay at +country taverns, instead of inviting her to their homes--a great breach +of hospitality. They discussed taking away her “approved minister’s +minute,” which introduced her to Quaker communities. But in justice +to herself, and because she loved the society and its traditions and +desired to remain a Friend, she was so careful that they could bring no +case against her. + +Never did she compromise her principles. Never did she ask for police +protection, though the mob clamored and howled around the building. +And never did she meet bodily harm. She lived the Quaker doctrine +of non-resistance, and did not believe in repelling violence with +violence. Holding that slavery was wrong, the Motts decided to use +nothing made with slave labor. That meant giving up sugar and candy +and cotton cloth. Most of all, it meant giving up the cotton goods +commission business in which for the first time James Mott was finding +it possible to make a comfortable living. Yet unflinchingly they +sacrificed material prosperity for the spiritual gain. Mrs. Mott opened +a school and they managed to get along until a new business could be +established. + +After the Civil War colored people were not allowed to ride in the +Philadelphia street-cars except in certain ones reserved for them. +One rainy day Lucretia Mott saw a negress, evidently in poor health, +standing on the platform in a cold drizzle. She asked the conductor +to let her enter the car, but he refused. Immediately Mrs. Mott went +outside and stood by the woman. The famous Mrs. Mott, seventy years +old, riding in the rain on the platform of his car? That would never +do! The conductor begged her to come in. + +“Not without this woman--I can not!” was the reply. + +“Oh, well, bring her in then,” he said. And soon the company changed +the rule discriminating against colored passengers. + +After the fugitive slave law was passed in 1850 many exciting cases +came up in Philadelphia. Perhaps the most famous was the trial of a +negro named Daniel Webster Dangerfield, who was arrested, charged with +being a fugitive slave. The alleged master engaged a famous lawyer +who was later attorney-general of the United States. The trial lasted +all one day, into the night and the next day; all that time Lucretia +Mott with her knitting sat in the crowded room beside the poor ragged +prisoner, like a guardian spirit. The opposing counsel asked that her +chair be moved, fearing that her face would influence the jury! + +In the court the negro won; but outside a rabble surged up and down, +threatening to give him over to his Maryland master, while inside a +group of young Quakers was equally determined that he should keep his +hard-won freedom. Another colored man, resembling him, was driven +away from the court-house in the carriage, while Dangerfield walked a +few squares with some of his friends, then was sent eight miles to an +unsuspected station of the Underground Railroad, and in a few days was +safe in Canada. + +“I have heard a great deal of Mrs. Mott,” said the opposing lawyer at +the conclusion of the trial, “but never saw her before to-day. She is +an angel!” + +Soon after he joined the party of freedom. Asked how he dared to +make the change, with so many interests arrayed on the other side, +his answer was, “Do you think there is anything I dare not do, after +sitting in that court room facing Lucretia Mott?” + +With all her public work this gentle Friend was first of all a womanly +woman, a fine housekeeper, a splendid mother, a devoted wife. Her +letters speak constantly of the varied activities of her hands--of +doing the family ironing, making mince meat for forty pies, sewing +and putting down carpets, knitting, and making carpet-rags and the +children’s clothes. She was herself the best answer to the argument +that public affairs must necessarily take a woman’s attention from her +household. + +For years the abolitionists felt their cause hopeless. The very utmost +they could do would be a lifelong protest against slavery. But Lucretia +Mott lived to see freedom for the negroes an accomplished fact. Nor did +she confine her work to this one cause. She was as firm an advocate +of woman’s equality with man, an able speaker for woman’s rights in +that early day when the subject met only ridicule and abuse. She used +her eloquence for temperance, for the advancement of the freedmen, for +peace through arbitration. + +Instead of averted faces and open condemnation, in her last years +she met everywhere with tenderness and veneration. And her face was +like that of a transfigured saint, for she was without jealousy or +bitterness, free from malice, incapable of hate. She was a preacher, a +reformer, a woman commanding our admiration. + +Exactly how much she did for abolition in that half-century of +agitation and reform can not be measured accurately. She planted the +seed and encouraged others. As famous and as much abused as Garrison, +as popular a speaker as Phillips, she antedated them both. She was a +veritable pioneer in the great movement that culminated in Lincoln’s +Emancipation Proclamation. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + HARRIET BEECHER STOWE + + 1811-1896 + + +The Beechers came to America in 1638 and were leaders in the New Haven +colony. Almost two centuries later the most celebrated member of this +family was born in the old parsonage in the beautiful Connecticut +hilltown of Litchfield. The father of this little girl, Lyman Beecher, +was preaching earnest sermons, on the munificent salary of five hundred +a year. To add to their income the mother, a beautiful and gifted +woman, opened a school, though she had eight children of her own to +care for. All of them grew up to be distinguished, especially the two +youngest, Harriet and Henry Ward, who were inseparable companions. + +Harriet had a remarkable memory and read all the books she could find. +But most of her father’s library was sermons and church pamphlets, +appeals and replies and theological discussions; so you can imagine +her delight when at the bottom of a garret barrel of musty sermons and +essays she discovered _The Arabian Nights_, and delicious fragments of +_The Tempest_ and _Don Quixote_. Her father had said his children were +not to read novels, but made an exception of _Ivanhoe_. The delighted +Harriet and her brother George read it through seven times in six +months, until indeed they could recite many scenes by heart. + +The Beecher children were wide-awake, bright, happy youngsters, a big +family of them, partly educated by running wild on the long breezy +hills. Until she was eleven Harriet went to a “dame school” and to the +Litchfield Academy, showing her future bent by thoroughly enjoying, +instead of dreading, the task of composition writing. Sir Walter Scott +helped form her style. She read and re-read her few books until words +and sentences were fixed in her mind. + +At one of the school exhibitions when compositions were read, Doctor +Beecher, listening idly, suddenly brightened and looked up. + +“Who wrote that?” he asked. + +“Your daughter, sir,” replied the teacher. + +“That,” said Harriet years later, when she knew something of fame, “was +the proudest moment of my life.” + +The older sister Catherine had opened a school for girls at Hartford, +and twelve-year-old Harriet went there, first as a pupil, then as +teacher. Indeed she was for a time both, and crowded days she had. In +this double race for development her brain wearied out her body. The +memory of those overworked days lingered with her all her life. Healthy +and hearty as a little child, she was allowed to think and feel and +study too much. Consequently as a woman she was far from vigorous, +finding her lack of strength a continual drawback to her work. + +Her father had been preaching for six years in Boston and was now +offered the presidency of Lane Seminary, to be opened in Cincinnati. +Catherine was to start a school for girls, with Harriet as her +assistant. The whole family made the toilsome adventurous journey +across the mountains by stage-coach, to what was then considered the +Far West. + +In addition to her work in the school Harriet wrote short essays and +sketches for publication, giving them away at first. But when the +_Western Magazine_ offered a prize of fifty dollars for a story and she +won it, she began to think of writing as a possible means of livelihood. + +In 1836 she married Calvin Stowe, a professor in the seminary. They +were far from wealthy, at times even poor, for Professor Stowe, rich in +Greek and Latin and Hebrew and Arabic, was rich in nothing else. Though +she had a household of little children, and often a few boarders, +Harriet continued writing from time to time. Her first check was used +to buy a feather bed. When a new mattress or carpet was needed, or the +year’s accounts wouldn’t balance, she would send off a story, literally +to keep the pot boiling. + +Outwardly their life in Ohio was orderly and quiet, but every month +occurred something stirring, even spectacular. There were fierce +debates on the slavery question among the seminary students. Doctor +Bailey, a Cincinnati editor who started a discussion of the subject in +his paper, twice had his presses broken and thrown into the river. +Mrs. Stowe’s brother went about his newspaper work armed. Houses of +colored people were burned and attacked; the shop of an abolitionist +was riddled; free negroes were kidnapped. The Beecher family slept with +weapons at hand, ready to defend the seminary. Many slaves escaping +from Kentucky sought refuge in the town, where the Underground Railroad +helped them to reach Canada and safety. + +It was impossible to live in Cincinnati and not be personally affected. +Servants were hard to secure, especially for a household with slender +means, though colored maids were available. The Stowes had a young +negress from Kentucky who had been brought to Cincinnati by her +mistress and left there. When a man came across the river hunting for +her, meaning to take her back to slavery again, Mr. Stowe and Henry +Ward Beecher drove the poor girl at night, in a severe storm, twelve +miles into the country, where they left her with a friend until search +for her was given over. + +Colored boys and girls came to the classes Mrs. Stowe had for her own +children. One little fellow was claimed by his former master, arrested +and put up at auction. The distracted mother begged and pleaded for +help. Harriet Beecher Stowe went out and raised the money to buy the +child and give him back to his mother. + +Pathetic incidents such as these were continually coming to the +attention of the professor’s family. In Cincinnati this New England +woman had a real acquaintance with negroes, and was quick to note +their peculiar characteristics. Unconsciously she was absorbing and +assimilating pictures of slavery which later served a great purpose. + +“What is there here to satisfy one whose mind is awakened on the +subject?” she asked. “No one can have it brought before him without an +irrepressible desire to do something, but what is there to be done?” + +To find this something-to-do gradually became one of her chief +thoughts, even though her domestic cares were almost overwhelming and +her health suffered from the strain. The resources of the family did +not increase. One year she was ill six months out of the twelve, yet +she put up the stiffest kind of fight against the most disheartening +odds. Whenever the household was in a comparative calm she would seize +her pen and write some story or sketch. A delicate, highly strung, +little woman, with seven children on her hands, she wrote in the tumult +of the living-room, with babies tumbling about her, with tables being +set and cleared away, with children being washed and dressed, and +everything imaginable in a household going on. + +Doctor Stowe received a call to Bowdoin College, in Brunswick, Maine. +Perhaps the family was glad to leave the excited atmosphere of +Cincinnati where feeling on the slavery question was so inflamed, and +live once more in the calm of New England. Yet for Mrs. Stowe it was +not to remain for long a calm background. + +On the journey north she stopped in Boston at the home of her brother +Edward. The fugitive slave bill was being debated in Congress just at +this time and everywhere the hearts of thinking men were stirred. Her +visit came at the height of the fierce and fiery discussion of the +proposed law which not only gave southern owners the right to pursue +their slaves into free states, but forced the North to assist in the +business. Her brother had received and forwarded fugitives many a time. +She heard heartrending accounts of slaves recaptured and dragged back +in irons, of children torn from their mothers and sold south--this +breaking up of families offended her most of all. + +Soon after the Stowes were settled in their Maine home a letter came +from her sister-in-law in Boston. + + “Hattie, if I could use a pen as you can, I would write something to + make this whole nation feel what an accursed thing slavery is.” + +Reading this letter aloud to the family, when she came to that sentence +Harriet Beecher Stowe rose, crushed the paper in her hand, and with a +look on her face that her children never forgot, she exclaimed, “I will +write something--if I live, I will!” + +She was forty years old, in delicate health, overladen with +responsibilities; a devoted mother, with small children, one still a +baby; with untrained servants requiring supervision; with her pupils +to be taught daily; and boarders to eke out the limited salary--her +hands were full to overflowing. It seemed unlikely that she would ever +do anything but this ceaseless labor. But her heart burned within her +for those in bondage. The law passed and the fugitives were hunted out +and sent back into servitude and death. The people of the North looked +on indifferently. Could she, a woman with no reputation, waken them by +anything she might write? + +While at a communion service in the little church at Brunswick, like a +vision the death of Uncle Tom on Legree’s plantation came before her. +Scarcely able to control her sobbing, she hurried home, locked herself +in her room, and wrote it out, exactly as it stands now, in a white +heat of passionate enthusiasm. She read it to her two little boys, ten +and twelve years old. Through his sobs one of them said, “Oh, mamma, +slavery is the most cursed thing in the world!” + +Then she wrote the opening chapters and offered the manuscript to +Doctor Bailey who had moved his paper from Cincinnati to Washington. +He accepted it and arranged that it should be printed in weekly +instalments--a dangerous method unless the story is completed before +publication begins. With only fragments of her time to write, she sent +off the necessary chapters each week, composed sometimes in pain and +weariness, under almost insurmountable difficulties, seldom revised, +sometimes not even punctuated. But the story was to her so much more +intense a reality than any other earthly thing that the required pages +never failed. + +The subject possessed her. Her whole being was saturated with her +theme. Her hot indignation was welling up, her deep pity was a part +of her inmost soul. Day and night it was there in her mind, waiting +to be written, needing but a few hours to bring it into sentences +and paragraphs. She had been a guest at the Shelby plantation soon +after her arrival in Cincinnati. Now, nearly twenty years later, she +described the details of that visit with minutest fidelity--the humble +cot of the negro, the planter’s mansion, the funny pranks and songs of +the slaves. Eliza’s escape was suggested by the story of one of her own +servants. Uncle Tom’s simple honor and loyalty were characteristics +impressed on her by the husband of a former slave woman for whom she +wrote letters, a man who remained in bondage rather than break his +promise to his master and so win his freedom. Topsy was a child in Mrs. +Stowe’s mission Sunday-school class, who only grinned in bewilderment +when asked, “Have you ever heard anything about God?” When the teacher +asked again, “Do you know who made you?” the answer was, “Nobody as I +knows on,” the eyes twinkling as she added, “I ’spect I growed.” And +Legree’s plantation was pictured to her in a letter from her brother +Charles, who went on a business trip up the Red River to an estate +where the slaves were treated with a brutality almost indescribable. +Her own experiences thus gave the personal touch that fires knowledge +into passion. + +“My heart was bursting with the anguish excited by the cruelty and +injustice our nation was showing to the slave, and praying God to let +me do a little, and to cause my cry for them to be heard. Weeping many +a time as I thought of the slave mothers whose babes were torn from +them, I put my lifeblood, my prayers, my tears, into the book,” was +her own graphic description of its making. + +The story was not so much composed by her as imposed upon her. Scenes +and conversations and incidents rushed on her with a vividness and +importunity admitting of no denial. She had no choice in the matter, +the book insisted on getting itself into shape and could not be +withstood. + +Years afterward an old sea captain asked to shake hands with the author +of _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_. + +“I did not write it,” said the white-haired lady gently. + +“You didn’t?” he ejaculated in great surprise. “Why, who did, then?” + +“God wrote it,” she replied simply, “I merely did His dictation.” + +“Amen,” said the captain reverently, and walked thoughtfully away. + +The serial ran in the _New Era_ from June of 1851 to the following +April. When it was nearing completion a firm in Boston offered to print +it in book form, but feared failure if it was much longer. + +“I can not stop,” was her answer, “until it is done.” + +Henry Ward Beecher told his sister his plans to work against slavery in +Plymouth church. + +“I too have begun to do something,” was her reply; “I have begun a +story trying to set forth the sufferings and wrongs of the slaves.” + +“That’s right, Hattie. Finish it and I’ll scatter it thick as the +leaves of Vallombrosa.” + +But there was small need for his endorsement. It was soon published +as a book. Would anybody read it, she asked herself doubtfully; +the subject was so unpopular. She would help it make its way, if +possible, and sent a copy to Queen Victoria, knowing how deeply she was +interested in the abolition of slavery. Then this busy woman waited in +the quiet Maine home to see what the world would say. + +The first day three thousand copies were sold, ten thousand in ten +days, over three hundred thousand the first year. The magazine had +paid her three hundred dollars for the manuscript; the check for +her first month’s royalty was ten thousand dollars, when Professor +Stowe had hoped the proceeds would buy her a new silk dress. There +were translations into twenty different languages, forty editions in +England, while the publishers lost count of the number in America. How +restful for the tired overworked woman to have more than enough for her +daily needs, to be free from the anxieties of poverty! + +“Having been poor all my life,” she said, “and expecting to be poor for +the rest of it, the idea of making money by a book which I wrote just +because I couldn’t help it, never occurred to me.” + +Written with a purpose, a great underlying principle, _Uncle Tom’s +Cabin_ is distinctly the work of a woman’s heart, not of her head. And +this explains the book’s merits as well as its literary defects. + + “But if critics find unskilful treatment,” wrote George Sand, “look + well at them and see if their eyes are dry when they are reading this + or that chapter. The life and death of a little child and of a negro + slave--that is the whole book. The affection that unites them is the + only love story.” + +Yet this book met with a success that reads like a fairy tale. It was +dramatized immediately, six London theaters playing it at the same +time. Learned reviews printed long notices of it, leading writers +in America and England added their critical appreciation. Even those +rating it low as a work of art called it a true picture of slavery. +The common people accepted it eagerly, making it the most widely read +book of modern times. It was one of the greatest triumphs in literary +history, to say nothing of the higher moral triumph. + +Its effect on the public was electric. The air, already charged with +feeling, was ready to become impassioned. After its reading the +Missouri Compromise was felt to be monstrous and impossible, enforcing +the fugitive slave law absolutely out of the question. Throughout the +North the book was received with acclamations. All classes, rich and +poor, young and old, religious and irreligious, read it. No one who +began it could remain unchanged. Echoes of sympathy came to the author +from all parts of the land; the indignation, pity and distress which +had long weighed on her soul seemed to pass from her to the readers of +the book. + +Some of the slaveholders Mrs. Stowe pictured as amiable, generous, +just, with beautiful traits of character. She admitted fully their +temptations, their perplexities, their difficulties. She thought the +abolitionists would say, “Too mild altogether!” But the entire South +rose against the book, in a hurricane of denial and abuse. The daily +papers featured column after column of minute criticism which seemed to +leave the book in tatters--its facts were false, its art contemptible, +its moral tone slanderous and anti-Christian. Thousands of angry and +abusive letters poured in on the author. + +“_Uncle Tom’s Cabin_ met with such a universal praising,” she said to +one of her brothers, “that I began to think, ‘Woe unto you when all men +speak well of you!’ But I have been relieved of my fears on that score. +If there is any blessing in all manner of evil said falsely against +one, I am likely to have it.” + +In the North a large element condemned the book no less severely--those +who thought slavery just, who feared civil strife, who opposed +abolition. But it was encouraging at least in this respect: The subject +of slavery was now fairly up for inquiry before the public mind. The +systematic efforts which had been made for years to prevent its being +discussed were proving ineffectual. And on the whole the North accepted +the story as a fair indictment of the national sin and as a sermon to +them on their part in it. + +For the moral sense of the people was awakened. The men who had viewed +the subject with indifference became haters of the system. The sleepy +church which had lagged behind in the rear of progress was stirred as +if by a blast from the last trumpet. Politicians in Congress trembled, +statesmen scented danger near. The unpopular reformers who had taken +their lives in their hands, found their ranks reinforced by sturdy +enthusiastic recruits. The story told the same appalling facts they +had been stating in their meetings and printing in their papers, but +the people would neither listen nor read. But Uncle Tom spoke with +authority, and not as the scribes. + +The marvel of its time, the wonder of succeeding generations of +readers, this book was the beginning of the end of slavery. No other +individual contributed so much to its downfall--Whittier’s fiery +lyrics, Sumner’s speeches, Phillips’ eloquence, the sermons of Parker +and the Beechers, all fell short of the accomplishment of Harriet +Beecher Stowe. She now found herself the most famous woman in the +world. When she went to Washington, after the Civil War had begun, +Abraham Lincoln on being introduced to her asked, “What! are you the +little woman that caused this great war?” and then took her off to a +deep window-seat for an hour’s talk. + +Invited to England, Mrs. Stowe found her journey there almost a royal +progress. People stood at their doors to see her pass by. Children ran +ahead of the carriage and offered her flowers. “That’s her,” cried +out the newsboys on the street, “d’ye see the courls?” A national +penny offering, coming from all classes of society, was turned into a +thousand golden sovereigns and presented to her, to be used for the +cause of the slave. There were many addresses and public meetings and +demonstrations of sympathy, and from the people a perfect ovation. The +great of the court, of literary England, anti-slavery leaders, united +to pay her homage. + +One of her gifts she brought back to America, in order to complete +its record. The Duchess of Sutherland gave her a gold bracelet in +the form of a slave’s shackles, inscribed “We trust it is a memorial +of a chain that is soon to be broken.” Its links bore the dates for +the abolition of the slave trade and of slavery itself in England +and her possessions. Later Mrs. Stowe had other links marked for +the ending of slavery in the District of Columbia, the Emancipation +Proclamation, and the constitutional amendment abolishing slavery in +this country--changes due largely to her work, two of these events +coming within a decade after _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_ was published. + +After her return to America, Mrs. Stowe kept on writing--sketches of +her experiences abroad, essays and stories of New England life, and +a second slavery novel called _Dred_, which the critics announced a +greater book than _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_, but its popular success was less. + +Her whole soul was bound up in the affairs of the nation as the crisis +of 1861 drew nearer. She dreaded war, yet believed that it was the +red-hot iron that must burn away the nation’s disease. + + “It was God’s will,” she said, “that this land, north as well as + south, should deeply and terribly suffer for the sin of consenting + to and encouraging the great oppressions of the south; that the + ill-gotten wealth which had arisen from striking hands with oppression + and robbery should be paid back in the taxes of war; that the blood of + the poor slave, that had cried so many years from the ground in vain, + should be answered by the blood of the sons from the best hearthstones + through all the free states; that the slave mothers whose tears nobody + regarded should have with them a great company of weepers, north + and south, Rachels weeping for their children and refusing to be + comforted; that the free states who refused to listen when they were + told of lingering starvation, cold, privation, and barbarous cruelty + as perpetrated on the slave, should have lingering starvation, cold, + hunger, and cruelty doing its work among their own sons, at the hands + of these slave masters with whose sins our nation had connived.” + +Her own son was among the first to enlist when Lincoln called for +volunteers. “Would you have men say that Harriet Beecher Stowe’s son is +a coward?” he replied to a question about his going. And she received +him back from Gettysburg with a wound in his head from which he never +recovered. + +From morning till night, all the days of the week, throughout the war +Mrs. Stowe worked steadily. Years before she had written an appeal +to the women of America, setting forth the injustice and misery of +slavery, begging them to work together to have the system abolished. +And when a strong party arose in England favoring the South, she wrote +another appeal to her sisters there, which helped to crystallize public +sentiment in favor of abolition and the North, to stop the English talk +of recognizing the independence of the confederacy and of mediation. +Its effect on the press and on Parliament was at once evident, and all +over the kingdom resolutions were passed for the Union. + +During the trying days of reconstruction she worked to secure full +rights for the freedmen. Living in Florida for the winters, and in +Connecticut in the summers, both north and south she helped to educate +the negroes whom she had helped to free. + +She still wrote well for many years, though she never achieved another +exceptional success. Thirty books in all she published, some of them +admirable, and then claimed a release from active service, saying she +had written all her thoughts. But had Uncle Tom been her only hero, +still would she live in the history of our country as foremost in the +movement against slavery. + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + JULIA WARD HOWE + + 1819-1910 + + +Julia Ward was born in New York City, and lived most of her life there +and in Boston. Her father was a wealthy banker, with a fine sense of +American noblesse oblige. Her mother, a woman of scholarly tastes, died +when Julia was only five. + +Mr. Ward gave his children every possible advantage--lessons in French +and Italian and music, as well as the best English education; and the +three daughters had as good a training as the three sons. Julia was +an unusual child with a wonderful memory, and learned very quickly. +She wrote poems, solemn poems, when a very little girl. At nine she +listened at school to recitations in Italian and handed the amazed +instructor a composition in that language asking to be allowed to join +the class--and this request was granted, though the other pupils were +twice her age. + +Life was a serious thing to this child who was brought up very +strictly, with duty and dignity constantly impressed upon her. She +heard frequently stories of her ancestors--colonial governors, +Revolutionary officers, Nathaniel Greene, and Marion, the “swamp fox +of Carolina,”--the long line passed before the grave little girl, +terrible as an army with banners; but always with the trumpet call of +inspiration in the thought that they belonged to her. + +When she was sixteen her brother returned from several years of study +in Germany, and a new world was opened to her--German philosophy and +poetry, and simultaneously New York society; for at once he made the +Ward home one of the social centers of the city. Julia became the +reigning favorite and won everybody by her beauty and charm, her tact +and ready wit and good humor. She continued her studies regularly, +translating German and French and Italian poems, reading philosophy and +writing verses. + +Visiting in Boston, she made the acquaintance of the literary group +there--Longfellow, Emerson, Whittier and Holmes. Charles Sumner was +her brother’s intimate friend, and one day when he and Longfellow +were calling on Miss Ward they suggested driving over to the Perkins +Institute for the Blind. + +They had frequently talked to her of its founder, Doctor Samuel Gridley +Howe, the truest hero that America and their century had produced, and +withal the best of comrades. The Chevalier, they named him, a Bayard +without fear and without reproach. She knew something of the six years +he had spent in Greece, fighting during the war for independence +and serving as surgeon-in-chief. She knew of his pioneer work for +educating the blind, and of his marvelous achievement in teaching Laura +Bridgeman--the little blind and deaf and dumb girl, the statue which he +had brought to life. + +When the three friends arrived Doctor Howe was absent, but before +they had finished their tour of the building Sumner spied him from +the window and called out, “There he is now, on his black horse.” The +young lady saw him, “a noble rider on a noble steed,” and into her +life he rode that day, like a medieval chevalier, in spite of the +fact that he was forty and she only twenty-four, in spite of the fact +that she had lived a gay social life and he was a serious reformer and +philanthropist who believed that with the world so full of needy people +no one had a right to luxury. + +Life with a reformer husband was not always the care-free thing Julia +Ward had known, but she had shipped as mate for the voyage, she once +said with a merry laugh, and added, “I can not imagine a more useful +motto for married life.” She realized always that the deepest and +most steadfast part of herself she owed to Doctor Howe. “But for +the Chevalier, I should have been merely a woman of the world and a +literary dabbler.” + +With all the cares and joys of a rich home life with her six children, +she found time for study and writing. She published two volumes of +verse, the first anonymously, but the secret could not be kept, for +people declared that no one but Julia Ward Howe could be its author. + +In addition to his work for the blind, Doctor Howe edited an +anti-slavery paper called the _Boston Commonwealth_, and his wife +helped him with that task. Garrison, Sumner, Phillips, Higginson and +Theodore Parker became their friends and co-workers. To balance the +reformers, Edwin Booth, Holmes, Longfellow and Emerson were frequent +guests, drawn by the magnet of Mrs. Howe’s personality. + +The slavery question became more and more acute, and soon the country +was plunged into civil war. Every earnest woman longed to be of some +immediate service to the nation and to humanity. Mrs. Howe was fired +with the desire to help. Her husband was beyond the age for military +duty, her oldest son was a lad, the youngest child two years old. She +could not leave home as a nurse. She lacked the practical deftness to +prepare lint and hospital stores. She seemed to have nothing to give, +there was nothing for her to do. + +If only her gift for verses were not so slight! If she could but voice +the spirit of the hour! + +During the autumn of 1861 Julia Ward Howe visited Washington. With +friends she went to watch a review of the northern troops, at +some distance from the city. While the maneuvers were going on, a +sudden movement of the Confederates brought the pageant to a close. +Detachments of soldiers galloped to the assistance of a small body of +men in danger of being surrounded and cut off from retreat; while the +troops remaining were ordered back to camp. + +The carriage with the Boston visitors returned very slowly to +Washington, for soldiers filled the roads. There were tedious waits +while the marching regiments passed them. To beguile the time and to +relieve the tense situation, they sang snatches of popular army songs, +and one of these was _John Brown’s Body_. + +“Good for you!” called out the passing boys in blue, and joined in the +chorus with a will, “His soul goes marching on.” + +“Mrs. Howe,” asked James Freeman Clarke, who was in the carriage with +her, “why don’t you write some really worthy words for that stirring +tune?” + +“I have often wished to do it,” she replied. + +And that night her wish was fulfilled. Very early, in the gray of the +morning twilight, she awoke and as she waited for the dawn the poem +came to her, line by line, till the first stanza was finished. Phrase +by phrase, and another stanza! The words came sweeping over her with +the rhythm of marching feet. Resistlessly the long lines swung into +place before her eyes. “Let us die to make men free, while God is +marching on,” and the _Battle Hymn of the Republic_ was achieved. + +“I must get up and write it down, lest I fall asleep again and forget +it,” she said to herself. In the half light she groped for pen and +paper and scrawled the lines down, almost without looking--a thing she +had often done before, when verses came to her in the night. With the +words put down in black and white, safe from oblivion, she went to +sleep again, saying drowsily to herself, “I like this better than most +things I have written.” + +The poem was published soon after in the _Atlantic Monthly_, but +aroused little comment. The war, with alternate victory and defeat, +engrossed public attention. Small heed could be paid to a few lines in +a magazine. + +But an army chaplain in Ohio read it, liked it, and memorized it before +putting down the _Atlantic_. Captured at Winchester, where he had +delayed to help the doctors with the wounded, this chaplain was sent +to Libby Prison, in Richmond. One large, comfortless room the Union +men had, with the floor for a bed. The Confederate officer in charge +told them one night that the South had just had a great victory; and +while they sat there in sorrow old Ben, a negro who sold them papers, +whispered to one prisoner that this news was false, that Gettysburg had +been a great defeat for the South. + +The word passed like a flame. Men leaped to their feet, and broke into +rejoicings. They shouted and embraced one another in a frenzy of joy +and triumph. And the fighting Chaplain McCabe, standing in the middle +of that great room, lifted up his fine baritone voice and sang, “Mine +eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” Every voice took +up the chorus and “Glory, glory hallelujah, our God is marching on,” +rang through Libby Prison. You can imagine the effect of the tremendous +uplift of the lines. + +Released, the fighting chaplain began work for the Christian Commission +and gave a lecture in the hall of representatives in Washington. +As part of his recent experiences he told this incident of their +celebration of the battle of Gettysburg, and ended by singing Mrs. +Howe’s poem, as only the man who had lived it could sing it. The great +audience was electrified. Men and women sprang to their feet and wept +and shouted. Above the wild applause they heard the voice of Abraham +Lincoln calling, while the tears rolled down his cheeks, “Sing it +again!” + +McCabe sang it and the nation took up the chorus. The story of this +lecture made the hymn popular everywhere. It was sung in all the homes +of the North, at recruiting meetings and rallies. The troops sang it in +bivouac at night, and on the march. The Union army seized on it as its +battle cry and sang it as they went into action. + +This song, which wrote itself in a wonderful moment of inspiration, +embodied the very soul of the Union cause. Yet throughout its twenty +lines there is no hint of sectional feeling. It was like an electric +shock to the people of the North, the call of a silver trumpet, the +flash of a lifted sword. It inspired them with hope and courage, giving +a new faith in the justice of God. The strength it brought to millions +of men and women can never be measured. + +And in the world war of the twentieth century, somewhere in France, +it was sung over and over. Phrase by phrase, the words fitting new +conditions, as they fitted those of the sixties--the lightning of His +terrible sword, the fiery gospel written in burnished rows of steel, +the trumpet that shall never call retreat, sifting out men’s hearts +before His judgment seat, let us die to make men free--these apply in +any warfare or crusade where men are fighting not for self, but for +ideals. + +After the war was ended Mrs. Howe continued to study, to write essays +and poems, to give lectures, to serve in many great causes. But she +is best remembered for the message which seemed to come to America, +through her loving and sorrowing heart, from God himself, in the +_Battle Hymn of the Republic_. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + MARY A. LIVERMORE + + 1821-1905 + + +Mary Ashton Rice was a little Boston girl, brought up very strictly. +She was a restless active child, quick to learn at school, always +enthusiastic over her tasks. A great favorite and a leader, she took +the part of any unfortunate child in school; a cripple, a shabbily +dressed youngster, one who was ridiculed because of her scanty +luncheon, found friend and defender in Mary. + +There were few playthings for the Rice children and Mary invented +a wonderful game called “playing church.” In the old woodshed they +arranged logs for the pews and sticks of wood eked out the audience of +children. Mary always conducted the services, praying and preaching +with the greatest seriousness, while the others listened. And her +father would say, “I wish you’d been a boy, child, we’d have trained +you for the ministry.” None of them ever dreamed that she would become +a great public speaker and would often give addresses in churches. + +Graduating from school at fourteen, she went to the Charlestown Female +Seminary, and before the term closed was asked to take a position made +vacant by the death of one of the teachers. Reciting and studying out +of hours, she managed to complete the four-year course in two years and +at the same time earned the money for this education. + +Then she went as governess in the family of a Virginia planter. She +had heard Lucretia Mott and Whittier lecture, and determined to find +out for herself whether the facts of slavery were as black as they +were painted. She came back from her two years in Virginia, a stanch +abolitionist. + +She served as principal in a Massachusetts high school for the next +three years, and resigned to marry Doctor Livermore, a young minister +whose church was near the school. She assisted in his parish work; she +started benevolent and literary and temperance societies among the +church-members; and she helped her husband edit a religious paper, +after they moved to Chicago. She frequently wrote stories and sketches +for eastern magazines, and she sat at the press table in the “Wigwam” +when Lincoln was nominated for the presidency in 1860. With her +writing, her three children, and a quiet, happy home life, doing the +common duties of every day, it seemed impossible that Mary Livermore +would ever be helping to make American history. + +But Lincoln was elected, Sumter was fired on, the nation plunged into +civil war, the president called for volunteers. + +Summoned to Boston by her father’s illness, Mrs. Livermore was in +the station when the Massachusetts troops started south. The streets +were crowded, the bells rang, the bands played. Women smiled and said +good-by when their hearts were breaking. After the train had pulled out +several women fainted and Mrs. Livermore stayed to help them. + +“He has only gone for three months, you know,” she said to one little +mother. + +“If my country needs him for three months or three years, I’m not the +woman to hinder him,” was the brave reply. “When he told me at noon +to-day he’d enlisted I gave him my blessing and told him to go, for if +we lose our country, what is there to live for?” + +Seeing such partings Mary Livermore could not rest. She had no sons to +send. What could women do to help? + +“Nothing,” was the answer from Washington when they offered their +services; “there is no place for women at the front, no need for them +in the hospitals.” + +The outbreak of the war found the North wholly unprepared. Hospitals +were few and poorly equipped, nurses scarce and not well trained; there +were no diet kitchens, no organized ways to supply medicines to the +sick, to care for the wounded. Taxed to the utmost in every direction, +the government could not meet all the urgent demands for hospital +supplies. Relief societies sprang up everywhere, working individually, +sending boxes to the troops from their special localities. + +But what a waste in that haphazard method! Perishable freight +accumulated till it was a serious problem. Baggage cars were flooded +with fermenting sweetmeats and broken jars of jelly. Decaying fruit +and demoralized cakes were found packed in with clothing and blankets. +The soldiers were constantly moving about and many packages failed of +delivery. The lavish outpouring of the generous people of the North +meant for a time a lavish waste. If the men’s answer to Lincoln’s call +was unparalleled, no less remarkable was the response of the women; but +it needed to be systematized and organized like a great business. That +was Mary A. Livermore’s contribution to saving the Union. + +To supplement the work of the federal government the Sanitary +Commission was established. Mrs. Livermore was president of an aid +society in Chicago which was one of the first to merge with the +Commission. And from then till peace came she gave her time, her +energy, her heart and mind and soul to the work of relief. She had +enlisted not for three months, but for the duration of the war. With +Mrs. Jane Hoge she served as organizer and executive not only for all +the activities of Chicago and Illinois, but for the entire Northwest. +Faithfully she worked to provide for the sick and wounded soldiers +abundantly, persistently, methodically. + +What full and varied days she had for those four years--opening a great +sewing-room in Chicago where hospital garments were made by the wives +of soldiers, writing hundreds of letters with news of missing men, +establishing a system of relief for their families and for refugees, +giving instructions and arranging transportation for groups of nurses +starting to the front, planning ways and means to raise money and +supplies, writing for her husband’s journal and for other publications +sketches of her “Sanitary” experiences, supervising the four thousand +aid societies under the Chicago office, constantly visiting groups +of ladies to help them start the work, sending out monthly bulletins +to keep in close touch with these branches, appointing inspectors to +report on the quality of food and water, and the sanitary arrangements +in camps and hospitals, printing and distributing to the army pamphlets +on preserving health in camp and emergency treatment, initiating and +overseeing forty soldiers’ lodgings--free hotels for men passing back +and forth separated from their regiments--helping with a pension +agency, a back-pay agency, a directory of more than two hundred +hospitals, sending to the battle-fields surgeons and instruments, +ambulances, anesthetics, and frequently going herself to see that the +things reached the men and were efficiently distributed. + +The work of the women of the Northwest she consecrated and organized, +making them half-soldiers while she kept the soldiers half-civilian by +bridging over the chasm between military and home life. She planned +wisely, largely. She worked exactly, persistently. In a few months army +surgeons were enthusiastic in their praise of the Sanitary Commission, +where at first the whole scheme was regarded as quixotic, described +as the fifth wheel of a coach, and reluctantly agreed to only because +its plans could do no harm. And the people of the North accepted their +larger methods and gave supplies to any hospital and any men needing +them. The Commission became the great channel through which the bounty +of the nation flowed to the army. + +Every hour saw boxes arriving at the crowded rooms of the Chicago +branch, where the total force of workers was four. Supplies were +unpacked, assorted, repacked, one kind in a box, and sent to Washington +or Louisville, the gates to the South. A high standard Mrs. Livermore +set for her aid societies--one box of hospital supplies every month, +and this standard she upheld throughout the war. Such a rigid system +was insisted on, in receiving and distributing their stores, that a +very insignificant fraction was lost, the vouchers taken at every stage +making it possible to trace them back to the original contributors. + +Her first actual war experience was after the victory at Donelson. +There was a cold rain during the first day’s fighting which changed +to sleet and snow with a bleak wind. There were no tents. The men +bivouacked in the snow. Hundreds of them who fell were frozen to the +ground and had to be dug out. The hospitals were not ready for such a +stream of patients. There were few ambulances. In their bloody frozen +uniforms wounded men were jolted over the hilly roads in springless +carts, to be sent to St. Louis. + +Mrs. Livermore spent three weeks in the different hospitals there and +in Cairo, visiting every ward, reporting careless arrangements, happy +to see great improvements on her second visit. Always the men greeted +her gladly, stretching out their hands to touch hers, talking freely of +home and friends. + +A year later she was sent down the Mississippi with shipments of +sanitary stores, to inspect every hospital from Cairo to Young’s Point, +opposite Vicksburg. Mud and water she found everywhere, swamp fever and +malaria and scurvy. One group of hopelessly sick men she offered to +take north with her, and Grant made this possible by cutting the red +tape of the military régime. + +The demand for hospital supplies increased steadily, as the army +increased in numbers and in the scope of its operations. The Sanitary +Commission expended fifty million dollars during the war, each battle +costing about seventy-five thousand, and Gettysburg half a million. And +in raising this vast sum Mrs. Livermore was one of the most efficient +workers. + +She planned a great Sanitary Fair in Chicago, to raise twenty-five +thousand dollars. The men laughed at such an impossibility. But the +women went ahead. They hired fourteen of the largest halls in the city, +and went into debt ten thousand dollars. They must have gone crazy, +said the business men, and sent a committee to advise that the fair be +given up, and adding that when they thought the money was needed they +would contribute the twenty-five thousand. But the ladies thanked them +courteously and continued with their plans. + +Such a fair as it was, opening with a great parade, “the potato +procession,” the papers had called it, making sport of the scheme. The +school children were given a holiday. Banks and stores were closed. +Railroads ran excursions, bells rang, guns were fired, the whole city +gathered to see the parade--children carrying flags, convalescent +soldiers in carriages, captured standards of the Confederate armies, +and farmers’ wagons with mottoes such as “Our father lies at Stone +River” and “We buried a son at Donelson.” The flags on the horses’ +heads were edged with black. The women who rode beside son or husband +were dressed in black. And when the parade stopped in front of Mrs. +Livermore’s house, the crowd was in tears. + +The farmers gave great wagon loads of potatoes and cabbages and onions, +for shipment to the soldiers. Live stock was sold at auction just +outside the main hall. In manufacturers’ annex were plows and reapers +and stoves and trunks and washing machines, all for sale. There was +a curiosity shop, an art gallery whose treasures were loaned for the +fair, one hall for entertainments every evening--concerts, tableaux, +lectures by Anna Dickinson, the girl orator. Dinner was served each +day. When it was all over the women had cleared a hundred thousand +dollars. + +But the fair did far more than raise this large sum of money. It +was a splendid demonstration of loyalty to the Union. It encouraged +the soldiers. It kindled an electric generosity and a contagious +patriotism, infusing into widely scattered groups of workers an impetus +that lasted through the war. It captured the attention of the entire +loyal North for weeks. Its success led to Sanitary Fairs in Cleveland, +Boston, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, New York and Philadelphia. + +Soon after the Chicago fair was over, Mrs. Livermore was asked to +speak to an aid society in Dubuque, Iowa. She left on the night train, +reaching the Mississippi River at a point where there was no bridge and +travelers must cross by ferry. But the ice in the river had stopped the +boats. She waited nearly all day. Could she keep her engagement? At +last she saw two men starting out in a small rowboat, but they refused +to take her. + +“You’ll be drowned,” they said. + +“I can’t see that I shall drown any more than you!” was her reply, and +finally they rowed her across. Her determination to accomplish whatever +she undertook was one reason for her success. + +She had expected to talk informally to a small group of women. To her +dismay she found that great preparations had been made. The largest +church in Dubuque was filled with an eager crowd, the governor and many +noted men being present, and every county in Iowa represented. And her +lecture was announced, “A Voice from the Front.” + +“I can’t do it,” she said. “I’m not a public speaker. What I had to +say to a few ladies is not worthy to be called a lecture to this great +audience. I can’t do it!” + +So it was arranged that Colonel Stone, with whose regiment she had +spent some time near the line of battle, should take down brief notes +of the talk she would have given to the aid society, and tell the story +to the people. They had started into the church to carry out this plan +when he said to her, “I’ve seen you at the front, I watched your work +in the hospital, and I believe you’re in earnest. I’ve heard you say +you’d give anything for the soldiers. Now is the time for you to give +your voice. Shall this opportunity be lost--or shall Iowa be enlisted +for the work of the Sanitary Commission?” + +“I will try,” said Mary A. Livermore. + +The sea of faces blurred before her. She seemed to be talking into +blank darkness. She could not hear her own voice. But suddenly the +needs of the soldiers crowded upon her mind, the destitution, sickness, +suffering she had seen at the front,--and the people of Iowa must be +roused to do their share. She thought she had spoken half an hour, it +was nearly two hours. The audience listened spellbound, men and women +weeping, every heart filled with a new patriotism. + +“Now,” said the governor when she closed, “Mrs. Livermore has told us +of the soldiers’ needs. It is our turn to speak, and we must speak in +money and gifts.” + +Eight thousand dollars were pledged, five hundred barrels of potatoes, +bushels of onions and anti-scorbutics of which the army was greatly +in need. People stayed till eleven o’clock, and the leaders till one, +planning for an Iowa fair which later cleared sixty thousand dollars. + +That was the first public speech of the little Mary Rice who had +preached to sticks of wood. But it was not the last. In hundreds of +towns she spoke, raising thousands of dollars for hospital work and +soldiers’ homes, helping organize aid societies and fairs. + +And after the war, from Atlantic to Pacific, in churches and colleges, +in city and country, she lectured to crowded houses, talking on her war +experiences in the “Sanitary,” on temperance and woman’s suffrage. A +most popular speaker she was, achieving much for the various causes +with which she was connected. But most of all she is remembered for the +wonders accomplished in the many-sided work of the Sanitary Commission, +whose efficient service helped to win the war. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + BARBARA FRITCHIE + + 1766-1862 + + +In December, 1766, a daughter was born in the house of a German +immigrant, Nicolaus Hauer, in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and she was +named Barbara. She had four sisters and brothers. Their early years +were spent in Pennsylvania and then the family moved to Frederick, +Maryland. + +Barbara went to school for a while in Baltimore. Her education was +the best that could be obtained at that day, for she was “thoroughly +well-read and could write.” When she was ninety-two years old she +scorned making her mark on business papers and proudly signed her name. + +Barbara remembered the discussions that went on, when she was a very +little girl, about the Boston tea party and the English taxes. She was +nearly ten years old when the Declaration of Independence was signed. +All her life long she talked with great pride of the success of the +colonists. She remembered many scenes of the Revolution. Step by step +she watched Washington’s career and shared in the popular rejoicing +when peace was announced. In 1791 Washington was entertained in +Frederick and Barbara begged that her china be used in pouring the tea +at the ball. And when Washington died and a memorial funeral was held +in the town, she was chosen as one of the pall-bearers. + +Frederick was a lovely little gem, set in a circle of historic hills, +like Nazareth--an old town with narrow streets and lanes, and houses +with queer roofs where the shingles had a double lap that made them +look like old Dutch tiles. There was a market square in the center of +the town, and on the outskirts the stone barracks built during the +reign of Queen Anne, where Braddock met Washington and Franklin in +council, and where prisoners were kept during the Revolution. + +Here lived Barbara Fritchie, an active capable woman, known for her +sturdy good sense, her incessant industry and her intense loyalty to +her country. Literally she grew with its growth, watching its progress +through the War of 1812, the admission of new states, westward and ever +westward expanding, till gold was discovered in California; and always +the slavery question sinister and threatening in the background. + +When Barbara was nearly forty she married John Caspar Fritchie, a glove +maker. They lived in a little high-gabled story-and-a-half house on +West Patrick Street, built of red brick penciled in white, with white +shutters and two dormer windows in the long sloping roof. They owned +two slaves, Nellie and Harry, who were so kindly treated that when +freed they returned often, as children seek the home of their parents. + +Her husband died in 1849 and Dame Fritchie, who never had any children, +lived alone in the little house, busy with her many nieces and nephews, +her knitting and her garden; a slight figure, under medium height, with +small penetrating eyes, usually dressed in black alpaca or satin, with +a starched muslin kerchief crossed on her breast, and a close white +cap. She was always firm and decisive, and had indeed the reputation of +a sharp tongue. + +Then began the Civil War and Barbara, ninety-four years old, was noted +for her fearless behavior and her intense outspoken loyalty, when +loyalty was not the easiest matter in that border state. For Frederick +had much to endure that winter. Soldiers of both armies were constantly +in the way, skirmishes and duels were frequent in the narrow streets. + +The flag was always flying from the Fritchie window and Dame Barbara +kept busy, helping sick soldiers and cheering the despairing Unionists. +“Never mind,” she would say when news of reverses came, “we must +conquer sometime.” For stimulated by the glorious memory of what +she had lived through, she had a supreme faith that the Union must +survive. “It will never happen that one short life like mine shall see +the beginning and the end of a nation like this.” She would ask the +shopkeeper, “How do matters look now?” If the reports were cheering her +joy was evident; if sad, she would say, “Do not be cast down. We have +seen darker times. Stand firm, it will all come right, I know it will. +The Union must be preserved.” + +Often the southern troops marched through Frederick, tired out, and +stopped to rest on the porches of private houses. Once they halted in +front of Barbara Fritchie’s home, sat on her steps, and went to the +spring near by for water. To all this she made no objection, but when +they began to talk in a derogatory way of her beloved country, she was +at the door in a moment and bade them move on, laying about her with +her cane in the most vigorous manner, crying, “Off, off, you Rebels!” +and clearing the porch in a few moments. + +With victory alternating between North and South, matters dragged on +until September of 1862, when Lee’s advance troops under Stonewall +Jackson spent a week in Frederick, to encourage recruiting for the +Confederate army. Every Union flag was ordered hauled down, and +according to one version of the story Barbara Fritchie, with the other +loyalists, took down her flag and hid it in the Bible, saying that no +Rebel would think of looking for it there. + +Another story tells how on the morning of the sixth Dame Barbara’s +niece went to see her and told her of a rumor that the soldiers would +pass through the town that day. Presently the child ran in and called +out in great excitement, “Aunt Fritchie, the troops are coming!” + +To the loyal old lady troops meant only one army. She heard the sound +of marching feet. Picking up a silk flag she stepped out on the porch +and waved it at the men passing. Instantly a murmur arose. A captain, +riding up to the porch, said kindly, “Granny, you had better take your +flag in the house.” + +“I won’t do it, I won’t,” was her reply, as she saw for the first time +that the passing soldiers were dressed in gray. Defiantly she shook the +flag. The excitement in the ranks increased. Threatening murmurs arose. +Another officer left the line and said, “Old woman, put that flag away, +or you may get in trouble.” + +“I won’t,” she responded and waved it again. + +Angry shouts came from the men. A third officer approaching warned her: + +“If you don’t stop that, you’ll have that flag shot out of your hand.” + +The captain, who was still standing near, turned to him and said +angrily, “If you harm a hair of her head, I’ll shoot you like a dog! +March on,” he commanded sternly, for some of the soldiers had lifted +their guns. + +On the twelfth of September the southerners left Frederick and the +Union forces marched in, to leave the following day for South Mountain +and Antietam. It was common talk among the northern soldiers that +some old lady had kept a Union flag flying from her window during the +Rebels’ possession of the town, and that it had been fired on. + +As the Federal troops were leaving the city General Reno noticed a +crowd of people in front of Barbara Fritchie’s home, reined in his +horse and heard the story. On being told that she was more than ninety +years old, he exclaimed, “The spirit of 1776!” and his men gave a +mighty shout that echoed along the street. Some of the boys in blue ran +to the window and grasped her hand, saying, “God bless you, old lady!” +and “May you live long, you dear old soul!” + +The general dismounted to shake hands with the aged heroine, who gave +him some home-made currant wine, served in the blue delft from which +Washington had drunk. He asked if she would sell him the flag. This she +refused to do, but gave him a bunting flag. + +“Frank,” he said to his brother as they rode away, “whom does she +remind you of?” + +“Mother.” + +The general nodded his head. The next day Reno fell at South Mountain, +mortally wounded, and Barbara’s flag was placed on his casket when it +was sent north to his Massachusetts home. + +Three months later Dame Fritchie died, at fourscore and sixteen, and +was buried in the little graveyard of the Reformed Church in Frederick. + +Her story was published in the newspapers and gained credence in +Maryland and in Washington. It was accepted as a fitting symbol of a +real and great emotion of the people. Mrs. Southworth, the novelist, +hearing it from friends and from a neighbor who was a connection of the +Fritchie family, sent it to Whittier, adding, “This story of a woman’s +heroism seemed as much to belong to you as a book picked up with your +autograph on the fly-leaf.” + +Within a fortnight after its receipt the Quaker poet, in his most +heroic mood, wrote his Barbara Fritchie ballad, remarkable for its +lofty patriotism. Though he had no military training his lines are full +of the spirit of army life, the tread of marching soldiers, the orders +short and sharp, a stirring setting for the courageous act of an old +lady of ninety-six. + +“It ought to have fallen into better hands,” Whittier wrote to Mrs. +Southworth. “If it is good for anything thee deserves the credit of it.” + +The poem was sent to the _Atlantic Monthly_, whose editor replied, +“Enclosed is a check for fifty dollars, but Barbara’s weight should be +in gold!” + +The ballad was, and is, most popular through the North, for it belongs +in the class which the world will never willingly let die. But it +aroused great enmity in the South where people bitterly resented the +statement that a favorite general had ordered his men to fire on an old +lady. There were many denials of all the details of the story, some +from members of the Fritchie family--that Jackson did not pass the +Fritchie house, proved by statements from his staff; that Barbara had +waved her flag only to welcome the Union army, and the incident had +been blended with the story of Mrs. Quantrell, a loyal school-teacher +who did wave the flag in sight of the Confederates; that no such person +as Barbara Fritchie had ever lived in Frederick! + +Said Whittier years later, “There has been a good deal of dispute about +my little poem. That there was a Dame Fritchie in Frederick who loved +the old flag is not disputed by any one. If I made any mistake in the +details there was none in my estimate of her noble character and her +loyalty and patriotism. If there was no such occurrence, so much the +worse for Frederick City.” + +Across the town from the little churchyard where John and Barbara +Fritchie lie buried is the monument marking the grave of the author of +_The Star-Spangled Banner_. And in both cemeteries the flag floats out, +signaling the one to the other, fulfilling the lines of the Quaker poet: + + “Over Barbara Fritchie’s grave + Flag of freedom and union, wave! + And ever the stars above look down + On thy stars below in Frederick town.” + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + CLARA BARTON + + 1821-1912 + + +Clarissa Harlowe Barton was born on December twenty-fifth, in an old +farmhouse in Worcester County, Massachusetts. Her grandfather had +fought through the Revolution, her father in Mad Anthony Wayne’s +campaigns against the Indians. Clara listened to many a stirring story +of the dangers they had met. As they fought their battles over again, +she learned her country’s history and loved it passionately. + +The older Barton children were her teachers and very rapidly indeed she +learned. For she went to school at three, able to spell words of three +syllables, but so shy she could not answer questions. Her athletic +brother David, whom she admired greatly, taught her to ride. + +“Learning to ride is just learning a horse!” said he. + +“How can I learn a horse?” asked the little sister. + +“Just feel the horse a part of yourself, the big half for the time +being. Here, hold fast by the mane,” and David lifted her up to a +colt’s back, sprang on another himself and away they galloped down the +pasture--a mad ride which they repeated often, till she learned to +stick on. In after years when she rode strange horses in a trooper’s +saddle, for all-night gallops to safety, she was grateful to David for +those wild rides among the colts. + +Strong in body, alert in mind, Clara Barton grew up, never free from +shyness unless she was busily at work. “The only real fun is doing +things,” she would say. She helped milk and churn, she learned to drive +a nail straight, to deal with a situation efficiently, with quick +decision. + +When she was eleven David was seriously injured by a fall from the +roof of a new barn, and was for two years an invalid. At once Clara +took charge, her love and sympathy expressed in untiring service. In a +moment she was changed from a lively child, fond of outdoor sports, to +a nurse calm and cheerful, full of resources, no matter how exacting +the doctors’ orders were, no matter how much David was suffering. The +sickroom was tidy and quiet. Clara was clear-headed, equal to every +emergency, always at her post, nothing too hard for her to do well and +promptly, if it would make her brother more comfortable. For those two +years she had not even one half-holiday, so her apprenticeship was +thoroughly served. + +“That child’s a born nurse,” the neighbors would say. And the doctors, +agreeing, praised her tenderness and patience. Years later thousands of +men echoed David’s words when he spoke of her loving care. + +But these two years made her more sensitive and self-conscious. Her +shyness and unhappiness made her a real problem to her mother. + +“Give her some responsibility,” advised a wise family friend, “give her +a school to teach. For others she will be fearless.” + +Far ahead of girls of her age in her studies, at fifteen Clara Barton +put up her hair and lengthened her skirts and went to face her forty +pupils. “It was one of the most awful moments of my life,” she +described it long afterward. “I could not find my voice, my hand +trembled so I was afraid to turn the page. But the end of that first +day proved I could do it.” + +Her pluck and strength won the respect of the big rough boys, who tried +her out on the playground and found she was as sturdy as they. That +school was a great success, and for sixteen years she taught, winter +and summer. + +In Bordentown, New Jersey, no school was possible, she heard, because +of the lawless children who ran wild on the streets. The town officials +were convinced it was hopeless, no use to make the experiment. Here was +something to be done, it challenged her! + +“Give me three months, and I’ll teach for nothing,” she proposed, her +eyes flashing with determination. + +In a tumbledown old building she began with six gamins, each of whom +at the end of the day became an enthusiastic advertisement for the new +teacher. At the close of the school year she had an assistant, six +hundred children on the roll, and a fine new building was erected, the +first public school in the state. For Clara Barton had a gift for +teaching, plus a pioneer zeal. + +When her voice gave out she went to Washington for a rest and secured +a position in the patent office. So she was at the capital when the +conflict long threatening between North and South developed into civil +war. Sumter was fired on. The time for sacrifice had come. + +In response to Lincoln’s call for volunteers Massachusetts sent men +immediately, and on the historic nineteenth of April one regiment was +attacked in the streets of Baltimore by a furious mob. With a good many +wounded their train finally reached Washington and was met by a number +of sympathetic women, Clara Barton among them. In the group of injured +soldiers she recognized some of her old pupils and friends. At the +infirmary she helped dress their wounds. Nothing was ready for such an +emergency. Handkerchiefs gave out. Women rushed to their homes and tore +up sheets for bandages. This was Clara Barton’s first experience in +caring for wounded soldiers. + +She wanted them to have the necessities, and all the comforts +possible. So she put an advertisement in a Worcester paper, asking +for supplies and money for the wounded men of the sixth regiment, +and stating that she would receive and give out whatever was sent. +Overwhelming was the response of Massachusetts. The food and clothing +filled her apartment to overflowing and she had to rent space in a +warehouse. + +This work made a new person of the shy Clara Barton who had been a +bundle of fears. This was no time to be self-conscious. Here was a +great need, and she knew that she had the ability to meet it. + +South of Washington battles were going on. Transports left each day +with provisions for the army of the Potomac, returning with a load of +wounded soldiers. Clara Barton went to the docks to meet them. She +moved about, bandaging here, giving medicine there, feeding those weak +from the long fighting and lack of nourishment, writing letters home, +sick at heart when she saw men who had lain on the damp ground for +hours, whose fever had set in, for whom her restoratives and dressings +and tender care were too late. + +If only wounds could be attended to as soon as the soldiers fell in +battle, she knew that hundreds of deaths could be prevented. She must +go to the front, to the very firing line, though it was against all +tradition, against all army regulations, against public sentiment. For +many weeks she met only rebuffs and refusals, always the same reply: +“No, the battle-field is no place for a woman. It is full of danger!” + +True--but how great was the need of the men at the front, how great the +need of each soldier’s life for the nation! Help must be brought to +them when they fell. She laid her plan before her father who said, “If +you believe that it is your duty, you must go to the front. You need +not fear harm. Every true soldier will respect and bless you.” + +Without a doubt then she determined to persist until she +received permission. At last she was able to put her request to +Assistant-Quartermaster General Rucker and asked him for a pass to the +battle front. + +“I have the stores, give me a way to reach the men.” + +“But you must think of the dangers this work will bring you. At any +time you may be under the fire of the enemy’s guns.” + +“But,” was her answer, “I am the daughter of a soldier, I am not afraid +of the battle-field.” She described to him the condition of many of the +men when they reached Washington and added earnestly, “I must go to the +front, to care for them quickly.” + +The passport was given her and through the weary years of the war she +stayed at her post--giving medicine to the sick, stimulants to the +wounded and dying, nourishing food to men faint from loss of blood. +Working under no society or leader she was free to come and go. On +sixteen battle-fields, during the hot, muggy summer days of the long +siege of Charleston, all through the Wilderness campaign, in the +Richmond hospitals, there was no limit to her service. And from her +first day on the firing line she had the confidence of the officers and +their help and encouragement. Wherever there were wounded soldiers who +had been under her care, Clara Barton’s name was spoken with affection +and with tears. + +In as far as was possible, word of coming engagements was sent her in +advance, that she might be ready with her supplies. At Antietam while +shot was whizzing thick around the group of workers, she ordered her +wagons driven to an old farmhouse just back of the lines. Between the +tall rows of corn, into the barnyard, the worst cases were carried. For +lack of medical supplies the surgeons were using bandages of cornhusks. + +Her supplies quickly unloaded, Clara Barton hurried out to revive the +wounded, giving them bread soaked in wine. The store of bread ran out, +she had left only three cases of wine. “Open them,” she commanded, +“give us that, and God help us all!” for faster and faster soldiers +were coming in. She watched the men open the cases. What was that +around the bottles? Cornmeal! She looked at it closely; yes, finely +ground and sifted. It could not have been worth more if it had been +gold dust. In the farmhouse they found kettles. She mixed the cornmeal +with water and soon was making great quantities of gruel. All night +long they carried this hot food up and down the rows of wounded +soldiers. + +On one of these trips, in the twilight, she met a surgeon tired and +disheartened. He had only one short candle left, and if men’s lives +were to be saved, the doctors must work all night. “Heartless neglect +and carelessness,” he stormed. But Miss Barton had four boxes of +candles in her stores, ready for just such an emergency. + +Near that battle-field she remained until all her supplies were gone. +“If we had had more wagons,” she reported to General Rucker, “there +would have been enough for all the cases at Antietam.” + +“You shall have enough the next time,” he responded. And the +government, recognizing the value of her service, gave her ten wagons +and sixty mules and drivers. + +Her work succeeded because she had initiative and practical judgment +and rare executive ability and the power of managing men. When her +drivers were rebellious and sulky, showing little respect for orders +that put them under a woman, she controlled them just as she had the +rough boys in her school. Once she prepared a hot dinner and asked them +to share it. After she had cleared away the dishes and was sitting +alone by the fire, awkward and self-conscious they came up to her. + +“Come and get warm,” she welcomed them. + +“No’m, we didn’t come for that,” said the leader. “We come to tell you +we’re ashamed. Truth is, lady, we didn’t want to come. We knew there +was fightin’ ahead, an’ we ain’t never seen a train with a woman in +charge. Now we’ve been mean and contrary all day long, and here you’ve +treated us like we was the general and his staff, and it’s the best +meal we’ve had in two years and we shan’t trouble you again.” + +The next morning they brought her a steaming hot breakfast and for +six months remained with her, through battles and camps and marches, +through frost and snow and heat, a devoted corps of assistants, always +ready for her orders. They helped her nurse the sick and dress the +wounded and soothe the dying, and day by day they themselves grew +gentler and kinder and more tender. + +Once Clara Barton worked for five days and nights with three hours of +sleep. Once she had a narrow escape from capture. Often in danger it +seemed as though she had a special protection that she might save the +lives of others. Stooping to give a wounded soldier a drink of water, +a bullet whizzed between them, tearing a hole in her sleeve and ending +the boy’s life. + +She gave her help to men who had fought on either side. They were +suffering, they needed her, that was enough. No man is your enemy +when he is wounded. She leaned over a dying officer in a hospital; a +Confederate looked up into her kind face and whispered: + +“You have been so very good to me. Do not cross the river, our men are +leading you into an ambush. You must save yourself.” + +But his warning was unheeded when later that day the hero-surgeon who +was opening an emergency dressing-station across the river, asked her +help. She went over to Fredericksburg where every stone wall was a +blazing line of battle. A regiment came marching down the street. She +stepped aside. Thinking she must be a terrified southerner, left behind +in their hurried flight, the general leaned from his saddle to ask: + +“You’re alone and in great danger, madam. Do you want protection?” + +“Thank you, but I think”--Clara Barton looked up at the ranks of +soldiers marching past--“I think, sir, I’m the best protected woman in +the United States!” + +“That’s so, that’s so,” cried out the men and gave her a great cheer +that was taken up by line after line till it sounded like the cheering +after a victory. + +“I believe you’re right, madam,” said the general, bowing low, and +galloped away. + +Over the battle-field a sharp wind was blowing. The suffering men lay +shivering and half frozen in the bitter cold. Some were found famished +under the snow. Clara Barton had all the wounded brought to one place +and great fires built up. But that was not heat enough to warm them. +What to do? She discovered an old chimney not far away. “Tear it down,” +she ordered, “heat the bricks and place them around the men.” Soon she +had kettles of coffee and gruel steaming over the fires, and many a +life she saved at Fredericksburg. + +As the war drew to an end President Lincoln received hundreds and +hundreds of letters from anxious parents asking for news of their +boys. The list of missing totaled sixty thousand. In despair the +president sent for Miss Barton, thinking she had more information than +any one else, and asked her to take up the task. A four years’ task +it proved to be. She copied infirmary and burial lists. She studied +records of prisons and hospitals. At Andersonville she laid out the +national cemetery and identified nearly thirteen thousand graves. She +succeeded in tracing and sending definite word of thirty thousand men. +From Maine to Virginia the soldiers knew her. Through the whole country +her name became a household word. + +Her strong will had held her body to its work during the long war and +for this tracing service afterward. Then the doctors insisted she must +rest and sent her to Switzerland for change of scene. After a month +when she was beginning to feel some improvement, she had callers one +day representing the International Red Cross Society. + +“What is that?” asked Clara Barton. + +And they explained--how a Swiss, visiting the battle-field of +Solferino and seeing thousands of French and Austrians wounded, +inadequately cared for, had planned a society for the relief of +soldiers. Its badge, a red cross on a white ground, would give its +workers protection from both armies, and they would help all persons +without regard to their race or religion or uniform--exactly the +principle on which she had been working, and to-day the very heart of +the Red Cross plan. Already, they said, the society was formed and +twenty-two nations had joined it. But the United States, though invited +twice, had done nothing. They asked her help. + +Three days afterward the Franco-Prussian War began and soon Clara +Barton was again at the front. With the German army she entered +Strasburg after the siege. On every hand were sick and wounded +soldiers, women and children homeless and ragged and starving. Relief +work started, she went to Paris on the outbreak of the revolution +there. And this work made her enthusiastic about the Red Cross. For at +once she felt the difference--she saw the new society accomplish in +four months, with system and trained workers, what our country had +failed to do in four years. What a contrast--supplies in plenty, wounds +dressed at once, cleanliness, comfort, wherever the white flag with the +red cross was flying, instead of mistakes, delays, needless suffering, +lives sacrificed. She said to herself, “If I live to return to America, +I will try to make them understand what the Red Cross and the Geneva +Treaty mean.” + +She succeeded, though it was a task of years. She found officials +indifferent, hard to convince, clinging to the tradition and prejudice +that forbade any alliance with foreign countries, and saying, “Why make +plans for another war? We’ll never have it!” + +But in March, 1882, the treaty was signed. Clara Barton became the +first president of the American Red Cross Society, an office she held +for twenty-two years. It was her suggestion that they be prepared to +meet any emergency and give relief in time of peace as well as war. +It was her influence that carried this American amendment in the +International Red Cross Congress. + +Many have been the calamities where the Red Cross has given aid--two +wars, floods in the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, the Texas famine, the +Charleston earthquake, the disaster at San Francisco, Florida’s yellow +fever, the Johnstown flood, forest fires--these are a few of the urgent +calls in our own land; and abroad the sufferers in the Russian and +Chinese famines, in Armenia and South Africa, bear witness to her care. + +Eighty years old, she went herself to Galveston. At seventy-seven +McKinley sent her to carry relief to the starving Cubans. And during +the Spanish War she nursed American and Cuban and Spanish soldiers, +once in a storm repeating her Antietam experience with hot gruel! + +Vast sums of money, poured out by the generous American people, were +placed at her disposal for relief to the suffering and destitute. +A sufficient sum in ready cash she always kept on hand, in case a +telegram came when the banks were closed; for there must be no delay in +the Red Cross’s starting on its mission of mercy. + +The world over Clara Barton was known and loved and honored. The German +emperor gave her the order of the iron cross, which at that time had +been awarded only for heroism on the battle-field. Queen Victoria +herself pinned an English decoration on her dress. The Duke of Baden, +Serbia, the Prince of Jerusalem all gave her honors; and her home was +decorated with the flags of all the nations. + +Dying at ninety, Clara Barton, retiring and bashful, had given fifty +years of service to suffering humanity, working always on the firing +line. David’s born nurse became head nurse to all the nation. The angel +of the battle-field, as the soldiers loved to call her, became the +country’s angel of mercy. + +And in the Red Cross Society, building perhaps better than she knew, +Clara Barton gave the opportunity for every American citizen, man or +woman or little child, to share in her work of love and mercy. + + + + + EPILOGUE + + +Thus ends the story of these women who helped to make the history of +our country. It is a record of courage and of service, of splendid +achievement. And these fifteen women by no means tell the whole story. +The contribution of each could be duplicated, in less degree, many +times. They are but typical of countless women who have been true +American patriots. + +The exploring and settling of our country lasted for three centuries, +the building of the nation is not yet finished. There is work for the +women of to-day, if they would be worthy inheritors of these fifteen, +to shape the present true, for the generations to come after. Making +history offers a wide range of service, for heroism wears many forms, +as these brief stories show. But it is of the greatest importance to +the nation that its ideals of heroism shall be high and true. + +Every woman can be a soldier faithful, brave and loyal. We of to-day +and of to-morrow must stand shoulder to shoulder with the inspired +women of the past, to express the best in womanhood, to work for the +highest ideals. + + + + + BIBLIOGRAPHY + + +CHAPTER I + + Eggleston--_A First Book in American History_, 23-41. + + Holland--_Historic Girlhoods_, 92-106. + + Jenks--_Captain John Smith_. + + Seelye and Eggleston--_Pocahontas_. + + Smith--_The Story of Pocahontas and Captain John Smith_. + + Sweetser--_Ten American Girls from History_, 1-35. + + +CHAPTER II + + Bouvé--_American Heroes and Heroines_, 13-31. + + Brooks--_Dames and Daughters of Colonial Days_, 1-29. + + Eggleston--_The Beginners of a Nation_, 326-341. + + Foster, ed.--_Heroines of Modern Religion_, 1-22. + + Hart--_American History Told by Contemporaries_, I, 382-387. + + +CHAPTER III + + Harrison--_The Stars and Stripes_, 60-64. + + Horner--_The American Flag_. + + Schauffler--_Flag Day_, 50-58 and 61-66. + + Tappan--_The Little Book of the Flag_. + + +CHAPTER IV + + Brooks--_Century Book of the American Revolution_, 87-89. + + Hemstreet--_The Story of Manhattan_. + + Ullmann--_Landmark History of New York_. + + Wilson--_New York Old and New_. + + +CHAPTER V + + Bouvé--_American Heroes and Heroines_, 120-128. + + Brooks--_Century Book of the American Revolution_, 130-135. + + _Journal of American History_, 5:84 (1911). + + Stockton--_Stories of New Jersey_. + + Sweetser--_Ten American Girls from History_, 71-85. + + +CHAPTER VI + + Brooks--_Dames and Daughters of Colonial Days_, 133-167. + + Herbert--_The First American--His Homes and His Households_. + + Lossing--_Mary and Martha Washington_. + + Wharton--_Martha Washington_. + + +CHAPTER VII + + Brady--_Border Fights and Fighters_, 151-163. + + Purcell--_Stories of Old Kentucky_. + + +CHAPTER VIII + + Brooks--_First across the Continent_. + + Dye--_The Conquest_. + + Holland--_Historic Adventures_, 21-58. + + _Journal of American History_, I:468 (1907). + + Laut--_Pathfinders of the West_. + + Lewis and Clark--_Journals_. + + Schultz--_Bird Woman_ (written by a man adopted by the Blackfeet + Indians, from accounts given him by friends of Sacajawea). + + +CHAPTER IX + + Bolton--_Famous Leaders among Women_, 123-158. + + Bouvé--_American Heroes and Heroines_, 171-180. + + Brooks--_Dames and Daughters of the Young Republic_, 1-42. + + Holland--_Historic Girlhoods_, 203-216. + + Madison--_Memoirs and Letters_. + + Tappan--_American Hero Stories_, 224-230. + + Todd--_The Story of Washington_. + + +CHAPTER X + + Bolton--_Girls Who Became Famous_, 33-49. + + Foster, ed.--_Heroines of Modern Religion_, 88-114. + + Hallowell--_James and Lucretia Mott--Life and Letters_. + + Morris--_Heroes of Progress in America_, 219-225. + + +CHAPTER XI + + Adams and Foster--_Heroines of Modern Progress_, 89-119. + + Bolton--_Girls Who Became Famous_, 1-17. + + Crowe--_Harriet Beecher Stowe: Biography for Girls_. + + Fields--_Life and Letters of Harriet Beecher Stowe_. + + Stowe--_Life of Harriet Beecher Stowe_ (by her son). + + Wright--_Children’s Stories in American Literature_, 188-202. + + +CHAPTER XII + + Adams and Foster--_Heroines of Modern Progress_, 178-214. + + Bolton--_Famous Leaders among Women_, 272-303. + + Bristol--_Life of Chaplain McCabe_, 192-203. + + Howe--_Reminiscences_. + + Parkman--_Heroines of Service_, 117-147. + + Richards and Elliott--_Julia Ward Howe_ (by her daughters). + + Wade--_The Light Bringers_, 142-171. + + Wright--_Children’s Stories in American Literature_, book 2, 212-221. + + +CHAPTER XIII + + Bolton--_Girls Who Became Famous_, 50-67. + + Livermore--_My Story of the War_. + + Livermore--_The Story of My Life_, chapter 28. + + _Our Famous Women_, 386-414. + + Whiting--_Women Who Have Ennobled Life_, 53-85. + + +CHAPTER XIV + + _Bookman_, 13:418 (1901). + + _Pennsylvania German_, 1906. + + _Southern Historical Society Papers_, vol. 27. + + +CHAPTER XV + + Adams and Foster--_Heroines of Modern Progress_, 149-177. + + Barton--_The Red Cross in Peace and War_. + + Bolton--_Successful Women_, 198-223. + + Epler--_Life of Clara Barton_. + + Parkman--_Heroines of Service_, 59-85. + + Sweetser--_Ten American Girls from History_, 143-173. + + Wade--_The Light Bringers_, 64-111. + + + + + INDEX + + + Barton, Clara: + nurse at eleven, 190-1; + success as teacher, 191-3; + cares for first wounded soldiers in Civil War, 193; + distributes supplies, 194; + receives permission to go to front, 195-6; + war record, 196-201; + appointed to search for missing, 201-2; + serves under Red Cross in Franco-Prussian War, 203-4; + starts Red Cross in America, 204; + its president for twenty-two years, 204; + service in disasters, 205; + honors paid her, 205-6. + + _Battle Hymn of the Republic_, 159-63. + + Beecher, Henry Ward, 132, 136, 144. + + Bishop (Washington’s body-servant), 56-8, 67. + + Burr, Aaron, 45, 104-5. + + + Chaboneau, Toussaint, 81-7, 91, 96-8. + + + Dale, Governor, 11, 12. + + Declaration of Independence, 111, 120, 170. + + + Fritchie, Barbara: + saw four wars, 179-82; + marriage, 181; + her loyalty and faith when Civil War broke out, 182; + troops in Fredericksburg, 182-3; + different versions of flag story, 183-5; + Whittier’s poem, 186-8. + + Fugitive slave law, 128-9, 138-40, 146. + + + Garrison, William Lloyd, 118, 122, 125, 131. + + + Hamilton, Alexander, 45, 63. + + Harlem, battle of, 45-6. + + Howe, General, 41, 43-6. + + Howe, Julia Ward: + ancestry, 155; + carefully educated, 154; + a social favorite, 155; + marriage, 156-7; + longed to help in Civil War, 158; + how the _Battle Hymn of the Republic_ was written, 159-60; + how Chaplain McCabe popularized it, 161-2. + + Hutchinson, Anne: + voyage to America, 18-9; + popularity, 20-1; + her meetings for women, 21-3; + church and state, 22-4; + trial and banishment, 24-8; + massacred by Indians, 28. + + + Jackson, Stonewall, 183, 187. + + Jamestown colony, 7-11, 16-7. + + Johnson, Jemima: + Indians attack frontier settlement, 72-3; + imperative need of water, 74-5; + volunteers to bring it, 75-6; + scheme succeeds, 76-7; + attack repulsed, 77-8. + + Jones, Paul, 36. + + + Lafayette, 53. + + Lewis and Clark Expedition, 81-5, 89-96, 99. + + Libby Prison, 161. + + Lincoln, Abraham, 149, 162, 201-2. + + Livermore, Mary A.: + first-hand experience with slavery, 165; + helped husband in church and editorial work, 165-6; + organized and systematized relief work of Northwest, 167-72; + Sanitary fairs, 172-4; + first public speech, 175-7. + + + McCabe, Chaplain, 161-2. + + Madison, Dolly: + girlhood in Virginia and Philadelphia, 101-2; + marries John Todd, 103; + death of husband and baby, 103-4; + popularity, 104, 107; + marries Madison, 105-6; + mistress of White House for sixteen years, 107, 113; + British attack Washington, 108-11; + saves Stuart portrait of Washington and Declaration of + Independence, 110-1; + adventures in flight from city, 111-3; + homage paid her, 114. + + Madison, James, 104-8, 112-4. + + Martineau, Harriet, 121. + + Mataoka, 1, 2, 6. + + Monmouth, battle of, 50-2. + + Morris, Robert, 33, 35. + + Mott, Lucretia: + childhood at Nantucket, 115; + early interest in slavery, 117; + preaches in Quaker meeting-houses, 117-20, 126-7, 165; + member of anti-slavery societies, 120-1; + delegate to London convention, 121; + excluded from its meetings, 121-2; + abused and attacked, 123-7; + her part in Dangerfield trial, 128-9; + pioneer work for abolition, 130-1. + + Mount Vernon, 59, 63, 66-8, 70, 71. + + Murray, Mary Lindley: + delays Howe’s march across Manhattan Island, 43-5; + saves patriot army, 45-6. + + + Phillips, Wendell, 118, 121, 131. + + Pitcher, Molly (Mary Ludwig Hays): + childhood on farm, 47; + accompanies husband to war, 48-50; + carries water for soldiers, 51; + takes husband’s place at cannon, 51-2; + honors given her, 52-4; + monument, 54. + + Pocahontas: + saves John Smith, 4-6; + how she got her name, 1, 2, 6; + befriends Jamestown colony, 7; + taken prisoner, 8-10; + marries Rolfe, 11; + visits England, 12-5; + descendants, 16. + + Powhatan, 2-6, 8-13. + + Putnam, Israel, 41-6. + + + Red Cross, 202-6. + + Rolfe, John, 11, 12, 15. + + Ross, Betsy: + apprenticed, 30; + marriage, 30; + reputation as needlewoman, 31, 33; + widowed, 32; + five-pointed star, 35; + her flag adopted by Congress, 35-7. + + Ross, Colonel George, 33. + + + Sacajawea (Bird-woman): + taken prisoner, 80-1; + marries Chaboneau, 81; + meets Lewis and Clark, 81-2; + engaged as interpreter, 82; + birth of son, 82; + heroine of expedition, 83-4; + saves papers and instruments, 84-5; + illness, 85-6; + escape from cloudburst, 86-7; + guides expedition, 88, 92-3; + meets friend and brother, 89-90; + persuades tribe to help white men, 90, 92; + bargaining with Indians, 91; + resourcefulness, 94; + rapid return trip, 95-6; + bids farewell to leaders, 96; + later years and death on Indian reservation, 98-9; + memorials, 99-100. + + Sanitary Commission, 168-72. + + Smith, John, 2-8, 14. + + Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, 122. + + Stars and Stripes, 34-7. + + Stowe, Harriet Beecher: + early interest in compositions, 133-4; + moves to Cincinnati, 134; + marries Professor Stowe, 135; + discussions over slavery, 135-7; + her own experiences with negroes, 136-7, 141-2; + writing, 135, 138; + excitement over fugitive slave bill, 138-9; + how _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_ was written, 139-43; + its reception and results, 144-9; + translations, 145; + trip to England, 149-50; + helps change public sentiment in England during Civil War, 152. + + + _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_, 139-50. + + + Valley Forge, 62, 64-6. + + + Washington, George, 32-5, 39, 41, 42, 46, 49-54, 56-71, 110-1, 180. + + Washington, Martha: + education, 55; + first meeting with Washington, 56-7; + marriage, 57-8; + life at Mt. Vernon, 59, 67; + interest in public affairs, 60, 69-70; + patriotic sacrifices, 59, 63-4; + winters spent at headquarters, 61-6; + work for soldiers, 63-6; + at Valley Forge, 62, 64-6; + first lady of the land, 68-71. + + Whittier, John G., 148, 186-8. + + Williams, Roger, 23, 28. + + Winthrop, John, 20, 24-7, 29. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76056 *** diff --git a/76056-h/76056-h.htm b/76056-h/76056-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..019e1e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/76056-h/76056-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4984 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Women in American history | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +ul.index { list-style-type: none; } +li.ifrst { + margin-top: 1.5em; + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 1em; +} +li.indx { + margin-top: .5em; + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 1em; +} +li.isub2 { + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 3em; +} +li.isub4 { + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 5em; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; width: 60%;} +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } +.x-ebookmaker table {width: 95%;} + +.tdr {text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} +.page {width: 8em; vertical-align: top;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; +} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +.w50 {width: 50%;} +.x-ebookmaker .w50 {width: 75%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Poetry */ + +.poetry { + display: block; + text-align: left; + margin-left: 0 + } +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ +/* .poetry {display: inline-block;} */ +/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ +@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5% + } +.poetry-container { + margin: 1.5em auto; + text-align: center; + font-size: 98%; + display: flex; + justify-content: center + } +.poetry .stanza { + padding: 0.5em 0; + page-break-inside: avoid + } +.poetry .verse { + text-indent: -3em; + padding-left: 3em + } + +.xbig {font-size: 2em;} +.big {font-size: 1.3em;} +.small {font-size: 0.8em;} + +abbr[title] { + text-decoration: none; +} + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} + + + /* ]]> */ </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76056 ***</div> + + + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h1>WOMEN IN AMERICAN HISTORY</h1> +<hr class="tb"> + + +<p class="center"> +<i>By</i><br><span class="big"> +GRACE HUMPHREY</span><br> +AUTHOR OF<br> +Illinois—The Story of the +Prairie State<br> +</p> +</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="001" style="max-width: 13.1875em;"> + <img class="w50 p2" src="images/001.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="center p2"> +INDIANAPOLIS<br> +THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br> +PUBLISHERS<br> +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Copyright 1919</span><br> +<span class="smcap">The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span><br> +</p> +</div> + +<p class="center small p2"> +PRESS OF<br> +BRAUNWORTH & CO.<br> +BOOK MANUFACTURERS<br> +BROOKLYN, N. Y.<br> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr><th> +CHAPTER </th><th></th><th class="tdr page">PAGE</th></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr page"> +I </td><td><span class="smcap">Pocahontas</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +II </td><td><span class="smcap">Anne Hutchinson</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +III </td><td><span class="smcap">Betsy Ross</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +IV </td><td><span class="smcap">Mary Lindley Murray</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +V </td><td><span class="smcap">Molly Pitcher</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +VI </td><td><span class="smcap">Martha Washington</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +VII </td><td><span class="smcap">Jemima Johnson</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +VIII </td><td><span class="smcap">Sacajawea</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +IX </td><td><span class="smcap">Dolly Madison</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +X </td><td><span class="smcap">Lucretia Mott</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +XI </td><td><span class="smcap">Harriet Beecher Stowe</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +XII </td><td><span class="smcap">Julia Ward Howe</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +XIII </td><td><span class="smcap">Mary A. Livermore</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +XIV </td><td><span class="smcap">Barbara Fritchie</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> + +XV </td><td><span class="smcap">Clara Barton</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> + +<span class="smcap">Epilogue</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> + +<span class="smcap">Bibliography</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> + +<span class="smcap">Index</span> </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr> +</table> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center xbig"> +WOMEN IN<br> +AMERICAN HISTORY<br> +</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br> +POCAHONTAS<br> +1595-1617</h2> +</div> + + +<p>One cold stormy day, more than three hundred years ago, a group of +Indians was sitting around the fire in a “long house” on the James +River in Virginia. Warriors and young braves, squaws and maidens, were +listening to stories, while the children played about boisterously. +Some of them were wrestling, some racing with dogs, and others turning +somersaults in the long narrow passageway.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the deerskin curtains parted and in dashed an Indian runner. +He spied the chief at the far end of the room near the fire and started +toward him; but one of the children, a little girl named Mataoka, who +was turning hand-springs, collided with him and knocked him down. A +little girl she was, ten or eleven years old, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> swarthy skin, black +eyes and long straight hair, like all the other Indian girls; but she +was distinguished among the group, for she was the daughter of the +chief.</p> + +<p>“Child,” said her father, “in your rough play you have knocked down +your brother, the runner who has come with some message. That is not +play for a girl. Why will you be such a little tomboy?”</p> + +<p>At this all the Indians present took up the word <i>tomboy</i> and +repeated it in the guttural Algonquin speech—<i>pocahuntas</i>, +<i>pocahuntas</i>. And that nickname stayed with her all her life long.</p> + +<p>“I have news,” said the runner, when he could get his breath. “I have +great news,” and he paused dramatically. “The white captain is caught!”</p> + +<p>What an excitement this created in the long house! Warriors and squaws +crowded around the tired runner, eager to have the details of his +story—how two hundred Indians, with the chief’s brother at their head, +had watched from behind the trees as the white captain, with an Indian +guide, left his two men in the boat and went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> ashore; how stealthily +they lay in wait to attack him, in the heart of the deep woods; how +they shot their arrows thick and fast, when the right moment came, till +they saw the white captain seize the Indian and use him as a shield, +while he slowly made his way back toward the boat; how the Indians +were afraid they would lose their prey after all, but fortune favored +them when the white man stumbled into a bog and was held fast by the +slippery ground and the icy water; and how, after he was nearly dead +with the cold and had thrown away his arms, they took him prisoner. +At first, said the runner, the braves wanted to kill him, but later +thought it would be a better plan to lead him to the village where the +whole tribe could rejoice in this triumph.</p> + +<p>All this Pocahontas, the little daughter of the great chief Powhatan, +heard, and was deeply interested. For the plucky captain had saved his +life by a device that was almost an Indian trick. So you may be sure +she was there, the next day, when the noted prisoner was brought in. +She was very proud of her father, who ruled over a league of nearly +forty tribes, numbering some eight<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> thousand people, as she looked +up at him, sitting in state on a raised platform, dressed in raccoon +skins, with all the tails left on, and wearing his splendid crown of +red feathers. Proud, too, she was to be his favorite daughter.</p> + +<p>At the council Mataoka listened while the Indians told how the +prisoner had shot at their men, one of whom had since died. She was +heavy-hearted when she learned the verdict, “Then he too must die—that +is the Indian custom!” She watched while some young braves brought in +two great stones and placed them in front of Powhatan. She saw them +seize the prisoner, drag him before her father, force him down until +his head was on the stones, and then tie his hands and feet. And all +the time her heart went out to him, so fair, so friendly, so fine a man +he was!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile John Smith, the white captain, not understanding what the +Indians were saying, could only guess at his fate. He had often been +near to death, in his adventurous life, and he thought now of some of +his narrow escapes—of his fighting days in the Low Countries, in the +Holy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> Land against the Turks, and that wonderful day when he met the +three Turkish champions in single combat, came out victorious, and was +given a coat of arms. He thought of the times he had been robbed and +shipwrecked, captured by Barbary pirates and sold into slavery. Yes, +he had been close to death before. Would some providence save him this +time?</p> + +<p>No, there were only forbidding looks on the swarthy faces around him, +glances of hatred, contempt, of triumph. Smith, from his position on +the ground, saw the chief motion to the executioners, who brought in +their great war clubs. Now they swung them up over their shoulders +and stood ready for the word of command. Powhatan had opened his lips +to speak when suddenly there was a commotion in the group as a little +figure darted past the platform, slipped through deterring hands, and +flung herself on the helpless prisoner.</p> + +<p>No girl’s game now was the little tomboy playing, as she took John +Smith’s head in her arms and with her own body shielded him from death. +The executioners stopped, uncertain what to do,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> for they were fond +of the chief’s daughter and would not harm a hair of her head. With +flashing eyes she waved them back and pleaded with the stern Powhatan +to spare the white captain’s life.</p> + +<p>At once there was a scene of the wildest commotion. There were shouts +and threats and many cries of “Kill! Kill!” for the Indians feared the +power of these newcomers and longed to drive them from the land. But +the little Pocahontas was a chief’s daughter and stood for her rights. +Let them grant this enemy his life and adopt him into their tribe; for +what harm had he done them? They ought to be friends. And she had her +way. Powhatan raised his hand and when the clamor ceased, he spoke to +the warriors who set the plucky paleface free.</p> + +<p>Mataoka smiled upon him and gave him many a look of wondering +curiosity. Smith presented her with some trifling gifts and asked her +name. Now it was the Indian custom never to tell a name to a stranger, +lest it give him some magic harmful influence, so Powhatan replied that +his daughter’s name was Pocahontas.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> + +<p>This story is questioned by some historians because Smith did not +include it in his first published account of the Virginia colony, nor +yet in the second, though he did praise the Indian girl. In a letter he +sent to the English queen, years later, bespeaking for her the royal +favor, he tells how Pocahontas saved his life and the colony as well.</p> + +<p>True or not, Pocahontas and Smith became warm friends and the +kind-hearted little Indian girl was loyal and faithful to the +settlement at Jamestown, and saved the colony more than once. +Frequently she would go with her brothers, or some of her Indian +attendants, carrying corn or venison to the people who were in danger +of starving—you remember how improvident those first colonists were, +and how badly their affairs were managed? Once she hid a messenger whom +the savages planned to kill; she saved the life of a captured English +boy; three times she stole cautiously into Jamestown and warned her new +friends of threatened attacks; and she told Smith himself of a trap +laid to surprise him, while his party waited for promised provisions.</p> + +<p>“Great cheer (corn) will be sent you by and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> by,” she whispered, “but +my father Powhatan and all the power he can make will come afterward, +if the braves that bring the corn do not kill you when you are at +supper. Hurry away! No, no,” she added, refusing a compass he offered +her, “I can no take. Indians see it. Powhatan kill me. If know I tell +you, I am but dead.”</p> + +<p>As quietly as she had come through the forest she slipped away, while +the Englishmen, ready for the attack, returned in safety to Jamestown.</p> + +<p>In the autumn of 1609, tired of the endless quarreling and dissension +in the colony, and sorely wounded by an explosion of gunpowder, Smith +went back to England. Then Pocahontas made no more visits to Jamestown. +Finally word came that Smith was dead and the little Indian girl +grieved deeply. After this all friendship between the red men and the +whites ceased. The settlers were often greedy and selfish, frequently +breaking their promises to the Indians who soon came to distrust, then +to fear and at last to hate them.</p> + +<p>A British soldier, Captain Argall, half pirate and half trader, thought +of a fine plan to persuade<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> Powhatan, who was trying to starve the +British out, to keep the peace. This was to get Pocahontas into their +power, and the old chief would do anything to ransom her. Now the maid +was visiting old Chief Japazaws and his wife on the Potomac River. And +so Captain Argall won them to his scheme by promising them a wonderful +copper kettle if they succeeded, and threatening them if they failed. +The squaw was to bring Pocahontas aboard his ship, lying at anchor in +the Potomac.</p> + +<p>As they walked along the river bank the old woman said she had seen the +English ships three times before, with their great sails like white +wings, but she had never been aboard, and oh! how much she wanted to +go! Wouldn’t her husband take her?</p> + +<p>“No, no,” he said sternly.</p> + +<p>And when she continued to beg, he threatened to beat her—all part +of the plan! Pocahontas with her tender heart was moved to pity and +offered to go with her, if Japazaws would consent, which he did but +only on condition that he accompany them. So the three of them paddled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> +out to the ship, where they were well entertained and invited to a +merry supper; after which the Indians with the precious kettle went +ashore while Pocahontas was kept a prisoner.</p> + +<p>A message was sent to Powhatan that his delight and his darling, +Pocahontas, was a captive there at Jamestown and would only be released +if he sent back all the Englishmen he held, all the tools and guns and +swords he had taken or stolen, and a large amount of corn as a ransom. +The maid had a long wait, for the chief made no reply for three months, +torn between affection for his daughter and desire for the weapons; and +then he sent back only seven Englishmen and a few guns. So the crafty +Argall continued to hold her prisoner.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she liked the little town better than the smoky long house of +her tribe, for she was treated with the greatest friendliness. From +the very first she had been warm and cordial to the strangers. Now, an +innocent, interesting prisoner, she was honored and petted. Pocahontas +had grown to be a woman and had learned the ways of English people. +One of the settlers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> Master John Rolfe, who is described in the old +records as “an honest and discreet gentleman of good behaviour,” fell +in love with her, for she was gentle and generous, pretty and graceful, +altogether captivating—and she loved him in return.</p> + +<p>Rolfe consulted Governor Dale about this marriage and gained his +approval. Powhatan also consented and sent his brother to give the +bride away, and his two sons and several chiefs of the tribe to be +present at the wedding.</p> + +<p>In the little church at Jamestown, Pocahontas was baptized and +christened Rebecca. And early in April, 1614, she and John Rolfe were +married there. The whole colony went to the ceremony, for everybody +was interested in the little hostage, and hoped great things from this +union—peace with the tribes of red men, and plenty of trade—with +Pocahontas as the bond to cement their friendship. They must all have +rejoiced when a year later her little son was born, and felt saddened +when the family moved out to Bermuda Hundred, a new plantation on the +James River where Rolfe raised the first tobacco in Virginia.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> + +<p>Here her husband and Governor Dale and the local minister devoted +themselves to teaching her English and the Christian religion. She +was eager to learn, for she liked civilized life, though the English +customs were in great contrast to the Indian ways. In a short time +Pocahontas became so well educated that she had no desire to return to +her father. Then she had the greatest affection for her husband, and +she dearly loved her son.</p> + +<p>When they had been married two years they started to England—Governor +Dale, Pocahontas and Rolfe, the baby Thomas, and an old Indian named +Tomocomo, whom Powhatan sent as a special guard for his daughter. If +life in the colony seemed strange to the forest maid, what must this +voyage have been? The great extent of the sea, the many ships, were a +marvel to her. At Plymouth the governor of the town came to the wharf +to bid her welcome to England. Her journey to London was almost a royal +progress.</p> + +<p>Everywhere she was received with great honor, as a foreign princess. +She was entertained at banquets and receptions. She went to the +theaters. She was present at <i>Twelfth Night</i> when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> Ben Jonson’s +masque was played; with Lady Delaware she was presented to the king and +queen, who welcomed her with pomp and ceremony. She carried herself as +though she were the daughter of a king, and among all the ladies of +the court none was a greater favorite, for her dark beauty and gentle +modest ways won all hearts.</p> + +<p>The greatest excitement followed the travelers. Everybody was curious +to see Pocahontas. Bishops and great lords and ladies drove in their +coaches to call upon her. And in compliment to this princess from the +new world many inns and taverns were called “La Belle Sauvage,” a name +you will still find on old swinging signs in London Town.</p> + +<p>The shrewd old chief, Tomocomo, with his tawny skin and shining black +hair, dressed in his war feathers and Indian robes, attracted almost +as much attention. Powhatan had told him to count the men he saw in +England, that the tribe might know the strength of their friends—or +enemies? He had given Tomocomo a bundle of sticks whereon he should +make a notch for each man he saw.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> Long before the party reached London +every stick was notched closely, and with an Indian grunt of disgust +which meant “My arithmetic fails me!” Tomocomo gave it up and threw +away his sticks.</p> + +<p>John Smith had again been adventuring and exploring but now, returning +to England, he heard every one talking of Pocahontas. Remembering old +times and all he owed his little friend, he at once went to visit her. +When Smith appeared she was greatly moved and for a long time could not +speak. At last she said, “They told me you were dead!”</p> + +<p>She reproached him for calling her the formal “Lady Rebecca” and asked +why he didn’t call her his child, as he used to do?</p> + +<p>“But,” said Smith, “the king has commanded that you be treated as a +princess!”</p> + +<p>Pocahontas, as before, had her way, and the two good friends sat down +for a long talk of the old days in Virginia, and all that had happened +since their separation.</p> + +<p>Though she was so petted in England Pocahontas did not really belong +there. More and more her thoughts turned toward home. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> wearied of +crowded London and longed for the forest again. Every day she would +stand by the window, looking toward the west where Virginia and her +early life lay. She thought much of the old days, of the changes +that had come to her and to her people, with the appearance of the +fair-haired stranger and his Englishmen. Rolfe grew alarmed at her +evident home-sickness, and feared she would fall ill with longing. But +they must wait till the ship at Gravesend took on her supplies for the +long trip to America, and was loaded with the many cases being sent to +Virginia.</p> + +<p>At last, word came that all was ready and sailors were sent to take +them aboard. But though she had set her face to the west, Pocahontas +was not to return to America. A sudden weakness overcame her, gently +she fell asleep, and at twenty-two in a foreign land, she died and was +buried in the little church at Gravesend.</p> + +<p>Her son Thomas was educated in England by his uncle, a London +merchant. But when he was grown he returned to Virginia, and among +his descendants were many families of that state,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> proud to claim as +their ancestor the tomboy Pocahontas. One of them was William Henry +Harrison, president of the United States; another John Randolph, of +Roanoke, a man famous in his day, for many years a member of Congress +in House and Senate. When he rose to speak there, his flashing black +eyes and jet-black hair, his brown parchment-like face seamed with a +thousand small wrinkles, his lean figure, with long arms and long bony +forefinger, his bursts of brilliant oratory, would remind people of +his forebears, and they would say, “Yes, Randolph boasts of the blood +of Pocahontas in his veins.” Years later, in our own century, another +descendant, Edith Bolling Wilson, became mistress of the White House, +the first lady in the land.</p> + +<p>Pocahontas is the first woman who made history in our country. Her +story is full of romance, of adventure, of gentleness and daring +courage. Far more she did than save Smith’s life; for it was through +her friendship with the English that the colony was supplied with food. +It was her marriage that made possible, as long as Powhatan<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> lived, +peace between the two peoples. It was she, said John Smith, who saved +Virginia from famine, confusion and death.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br> +ANNE HUTCHINSON<br> +1590-1643</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Anne Marbury was an English girl who lived in Lincolnshire, near the +town of Boston. Her father was a Puritan minister, preaching there and +in London. In Lincolnshire Anne passed her girlhood, doubtless hearing +a great deal of theological controversy and religious discussion, +for this was the time of the Puritan revolt in England, and of great +religious excitement. Naturally intelligent and earnest, her mental +powers were aroused and quickened.</p> + +<p>At an early age she married William Hutchinson, “a very honest and +peaceable man of good estate.” And in 1634 with her husband and +children she journeyed to America—the outcome of the Reverend John +Cotton’s leaving England because of his persecution by the bishops. +Anne Hutchinson had been one of his most ardent disciples in the church +at old Boston, and was now to sit under him in the new Boston.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> + +<p>It was a pleasant voyage of seven weeks, in the good ship +<i>Griffen</i>. There were over a hundred passengers, among them +two ministers, so you may be sure there were sermons and prayers +and religious discussions all during the crossing. Indeed Mistress +Anne Hutchinson was so outspoken in her doctrines that, when they +landed, one of these ministers reported her to the governor as holding +dangerous beliefs. Though her husband was accepted at once, the colony +leaders took a week’s time to look into her liberal views, and then +examined her rigorously before admitting her to membership in the +church.</p> + +<p>For Massachusetts, you remember, was settled by Puritans who had met +persecution in England, and had braved the dangers of the long voyage +and the greater dangers of hunger and illness in a new land, in order +to worship God in their own way. In accomplishing this they became as +intolerant as those from whom they had fled. Indeed there was a far +closer relation of church and state in Massachusetts than in England. +The only liberty the fathers allowed was the liberty to believe just as +they believed. They were right,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> others were wrong, and on this theory +they regulated everything, both religious and civil.</p> + +<p>Until their own house could be built, Mistress Anne Hutchinson and +some of the children lived at the Reverend Cotton’s; and for the three +years the family remained in Boston, their home was across the street +from John Winthrop’s. Almost immediately this house became the social +center of the town and Anne Hutchinson had a leading place among the +three hundred inhabitants and the fast friendship of the brilliant +young Englishman, Sir Harry Vane, then serving a term as governor of +the colony. The women loved her for her goodness of heart, her cheerful +neighborliness, her great skill in nursing. Both men and women welcomed +her intellectual and magnetic personality. She had a vigorous mind, +a dauntless courage, a natural gift for leadership; she was capable, +energetic, amiable.</p> + +<p>And there was another reason why the women liked her. The colonists had +two church services on Sunday, with sermons sometimes three hours long; +Thursday lectures, and a Saturday night meeting. There was also during +the week religious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> discussion for the men. Mrs. Hutchinson started +meetings for women—a new departure, for never before had women met +for independent thought and action. At first this won high approval. +The women—forty, sixty, sometimes eighty of them, even a hundred, for +they came from near-by towns as well as from Boston homes—were soon +holding regular meetings to review the sermons of the Sunday before, +with Mistress Anne’s comment and interpretation.</p> + +<p>“All the faithful embraced her conference,” a contemporary record +describes the gatherings, “and blessed God for her fruitful discourses.”</p> + +<p>But from a review of the sermons to discussion and criticism of them +and the ministers as well was a short step. It soon began to be said +that Anne Hutchinson cast reproaches on those who preached “a covenant +by works” instead of the “covenant by grace” in which she fervently +believed. Such freedom of speech could not be tolerated by the good +Puritans, and a theological dispute arose which threatened the very +life of the colony. There were two parties, grace and works. Politics +became a matter of Hutchinson opinions,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> for political lines and +religious lines coincided exactly. Indeed there was no separation of +church and state; the leaders of one controlled the policy of the other.</p> + +<p>From the beginning of the colony the preachers had had an unlimited +influence. Now they complained that “more resort to Mrs. Hutchinson +for council about matters of conscience than to any minister in the +country.” Moreover this grace and works difficulty was carried into +every phase of life. Some people turned their backs contemptuously and +walked out of meeting when a preacher not under a covenant of grace +entered the pulpit. Others interrupted the services with questions of +controversy. Indeed it was carried so far that when the Pequot Indians +became aggressive and dangerous and it was necessary to send troops +against them, the Boston soldiers refused to be mustered into service, +because the chaplain, drawn by lot, preached a covenant of works, and +they disagreed with his Sunday sermon! The whole town of Boston, the +whole colony of Massachusetts, church and state, were set in commotion +and turmoil. This theological<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> quarrel was a stumbling block in the way +of all progress.</p> + +<p>The ministers so freely criticized were embittered and determined +to call Mistress Hutchinson and her doctrines to account. So they +summoned a synod, all the clergymen and magistrates of Massachusetts, +who met in Cambridge for full three weeks, discussing some eighty-two +opinions which they condemned—some as dangerous, some blasphemous, +some erroneous, and all unsafe. The women’s meetings were forbidden as +“disorderly and without rule.”</p> + +<p>Forbidden to speak in public Anne Hutchinson continued to hold meetings +in her own house. Roger Williams, who was shortly to feel the full +displeasure of the Puritan leaders, said that in view of her usefulness +as a nurse and a neighbor, she ought to be allowed to speak when she +chose and to say what she wished, “because if it be a lie, it will die +of itself; and if it be truth, we ought to know it.”</p> + +<p>The authorities in Massachusetts were in constant dread of losing their +charter, which was especially endangered by reports of disorderly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> +proceedings. And certainly nothing had provoked so much disorder +and sedition as the course taken by Mistress Anne. Both politically +and religiously they felt it a duty to suppress her party. So in +October, 1637, she was brought to trial before the General Court of +Massachusetts, sitting in the meeting-house in Cambridge.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Mrs. Hutchinson,” said Winthrop, presiding, “you are called here as +one of those that have troubled the peace of the commonwealth and the +churches here.... You have maintained a meeting and an assembly in +your house that hath been condemned by the general assembly as a thing +not tolerable nor comely in the sight of God nor fitting for your +sex, and notwithstanding that was cried down you have continued the +same. Therefore we have thought good to send for you to understand how +things are, that if you be in an erroneous way we may reduce you that +so you may become a profitable member here among us, otherwise if you +be obstinate in your course that then the court may take such course +that you may trouble us no further.”</p> +</div> + +<p>This trial was at once a civil, judicial and ecclesiastical process, +lasting through two long weary days. Extremely tiring and exhausting +must have been the examination, for the deputy-governor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> complained +that they would all be sick from fasting! The forty-three men who +tried her were like an English court of High Commission, almost like +the Inquisition. For Anne Hutchinson had no lawyer. They even kept her +standing until she almost fell from fatigue, before they allowed her to +answer seated.</p> + +<p>Governor and deputy, magistrates and judges were arrayed against her. +They examined and cross-examined her. They badgered and insulted and +sneered at her. They browbeat and silenced her witnesses, in absolute +disregard of fair play. Only one man of them all defended her, saying +with spirit, “There is no law of God that she has broken, nor any law +of the country, and she deserves no censure.”</p> + +<p>They found it no easy thing to make her trap herself. Their fine +theological distinctions were familiar ground to her. She had a ready +grasp of scriptural authority, and wonderful skill in using her +intellectual power to prove her spiritual position. With the ability +and clearness of a trained advocate she conducted her case, showing +tact and judgment and self-reliance, and always with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> demeanor of +a lady. What Winthrop described as her “nimble wit and voluble tongue” +never deserted her, though she was hard pressed by the keenest minds of +the colony.</p> + +<p>When they failed to prove her women’s meetings opposed to the Bible, +they fell back on the argument of their authority and said, “We are +your judges, and not you ours, and we must compel you to it.”</p> + +<p>When she answered to some of their questions, “That’s matter of +conscience, sir,” stern Governor Winthrop replied, “Your conscience you +must keep, or it must be kept for you.”</p> + +<p>It was the deputy-governor who summed the whole matter up:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“About three years ago we were all in peace. Mrs. Hutchinson from that +time she came hath made a disturbance.... She hath vented divers of +her strange opinions and hath made parties.... She in particular hath +disparaged all our ministers.... Why this is not to be suffered, and +therefore being driven to the foundation and it being found that Mrs. +Hutchinson ... hath been the cause of what is fallen out, why we must +take away the foundation and the building will fall.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> + +<p>The result of the trial might have been announced before it opened. +Read how the court record finishes:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Governor Winthrop: The Court hath already declared itself satisfied +concerning the things you hear, and concerning the troublesomeness +of her spirit, and the danger of her course amongst us, which is not +to be suffered. Therefore if it be the mind of the Court that Mrs. +Hutchinson, for these things that appear before us, is unfit for our +society, and if it be the mind of the Court that she shall be banished +out of our liberties, and imprisoned till she be sent away, let them +hold up their hands.”</p> +</div> + +<p>All but three held up their hands.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Governor Winthrop: Mrs. Hutchinson, you hear the sentence of the +Court. It is that you are banished from out our jurisdiction as being +a woman not fit for our society, and you are to be imprisoned till the +Court send you away.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Hutchinson: I desire to know wherefore I am banished.</p> + +<p>“Governor Winthrop: Say no more. The Court knows wherefore, and is +satisfied.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Semi-imprisonment Mistress Anne had all that winter, in the house of a +man in Roxbury whose brother was one of her most bitter enemies. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> +was sent up to Boston to be admonished by the elders of the church; and +when she refused to sign an absolute retraction of her opinions, and +would not promise to hold any more meetings, she was excommunicated.</p> + +<p>The sentence of banishment was carried out in March of 1638. To the +sorrow of many of the colonists, William Hutchinson went with his wife. +He refused their invitations to remain, saying, “For I am more dearly +tied to my wife than to the church.... And I do think her a saint and +servant of God.” With husband and children and seventy friends Mistress +Anne went to Rhode Island where Roger Williams offered the party a +friendly refuge. From the Indians they bought an island, for ten coats, +twenty hoes, and forty fathoms of white wampum; and lived there until +1642 when William Hutchinson died.</p> + +<p>Hearing a rumor that Massachusetts was trying to extend her control +over Rhode Island, the settlers left for a new site in the Dutch colony +to the west. A year later a friendly Indian one morning visited Anne +Hutchinson’s house. Seeing that the family was defenseless he returned +that night<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> with others of his tribe, killed the sixteen members of the +household and set fire to the buildings.</p> + +<p>When Governor Winthrop heard of this massacre he declared that +“the bare arm of God displayed itself in her death.” Ministers in +Massachusetts announced it a divine judgment supporting their verdict. +One of them wrote, “God’s hand is more apparently seen herein to +pick out this woful woman to make her and those belonging to her an +unheard-of heavy example above others.” But Mistress Anne’s friends +charged the guilt of her murder upon the colony and declared it was the +judgment of the Lord on Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>An able woman, clever, brilliant, possibly indiscreet in her criticism +of the ministers, Anne Hutchinson’s life was a strange mixture of +consecration and conflict, of kindliness and contention, with a tragic +end. She was fighting the first battle in a long series to be fought +out in America—for religious toleration and for freedom of thought and +speech, for liberty of conscience, for a true democracy in religion.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br> +BETSY ROSS<br> +1752-1836</h2> +</div> + + +<p>In 1752 the eighth child was born in the Quaker family of Griscom in +Philadelphia, and was named Elizabeth. Nine other children came after +her, so with a total of sixteen brothers and sisters you may be sure +she never had much opportunity to be lonely. Perhaps the large number +of children is the explanation for her being apprenticed at Webster’s, +the leading upholstery establishment in the city. There Elizabeth +became acquainted with John Ross, one of her fellow-apprentices; their +friendship grew to love, and when she was twenty-one they were married. +Now John Ross was the son of an Episcopal clergyman and because of that +fact Elizabeth was “disowned” by the Friends for her marriage.</p> + +<p>Soon afterward they left Webster’s and opened a little upholstery shop +of their own, in a two-story house on Arch Street—a quaint little +house that was old then, for it was built of bricks that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> came over +to America as ballast in one of William Penn’s vessels. It is still +standing, in a good state of preservation, and very little changed from +the old days, with its wide doors, big cupboards, narrow stairs and +tiny window-panes. The front room was the shop, where Elizabeth and +John waited on customers; and next to this was the back parlor.</p> + +<p>Now Elizabeth Ross was not only an energetic and trained upholsterer, +she was also the most skilful needlewoman in Philadelphia, and had +a great reputation for embroidering and darning. There was a story +current of a young lady visiting in the city, who wanted an elaborately +embroidered frock mended. She was directed to take it to Mistress Betsy +Ross. And the owner said, when it was finished, that the darning was +the handsomest part of the gown! Considerable artistic skill had Betsy, +too, for she could draw free-hand, very rapidly and accurately, the +complicated designs used in those days for quilting. Withal she was a +thoroughly efficient housekeeper.</p> + +<p>The happiness of the Ross family was not to last long. The spirit of +liberty was awakening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> among the colonists, the spirit of resistance +to the demands of the mother country. In common with many patriotic +women, Betsy Ross saw her husband march away for military service. With +several other young men he was guarding cannon balls and artillery +stores on one of the city wharves along the Delaware River, when +he received a serious injury, from the effects of which he died in +January, 1776, after long and anxious nursing on the part of his young +wife. He was buried in the Christ Church burying-ground; and in that +historic old Philadelphia church you can still see the Ross pew, marked +with the Stars and Stripes.</p> + +<p>There was Betsy Ross, a widow at twenty-four. She determined to +maintain herself independently, if possible, and to continue alone the +upholstery business they had developed together. About five months +after her husband’s death, some time between the twenty-second of May +and the fifth of June, she was one day working in the shop when three +gentlemen called.</p> + +<p>The first was General Washington, in Philadelphia for a few days to +consult the Continental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> Congress. Mistress Ross had frequently seen +him, for the story is that he had visited her shop more than once, to +have her embroider the ruffles for his shirts, an important branch of +fine hand-sewing in those days. With him was Robert Morris, to go down +in history as the treasurer and financier of the Revolution; and her +husband’s uncle, Colonel George Ross, a signer of the Declaration of +Independence.</p> + +<p>These gentlemen had come to consult her. She knew, of course, how the +various banners carried by troops from the different colonies, as +well as by different regiments, had caused confusion and might mean +danger. It was time to do away with the pine tree flag, the beaver +flag, the rattlesnake flag, the hope flag, the silver crescent flag, +the anchor flag, the liberty tree flag, and all the rest of them, and +have a single standard for the American army. Betsy Ross had heard, +too, of the Cambridge flag, often called the grand union flag, which +Washington had raised the New Year’s day before, a flag half English, +half American, with thirteen red and white stripes, and the crosses of +St. George and St. Andrew. But since the first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> of the year events had +moved rapidly and the desire for separation from England had become +steadily stronger. A new flag was needed, to show the growing spirit of +Americanism—which was soon to crystallize on the fourth of July.</p> + +<p>All this Betsy Ross knew, as a good patriot would. And she could not +have been greatly surprised when General Washington said they had come +to consult her about a national flag.</p> + +<p>“Can you make a flag?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Modestly and with some diffidence she replied, “I don’t know, sir, but +I can try.”</p> + +<p>Then in the little back parlor Washington showed her a rough sketch he +had made—a square flag with thirteen stripes of red and white, and +thirteen stars in the blue canton. He asked her opinion of the design. +With unerring accuracy of eye she saw at once what was needed to make +the flag more beautiful, more attractive. She suggested that the +proportions be changed, so that the length would be a third more than +the width; that the thirteen stars should not be scattered irregularly +over the canton, but grouped to form some design, say a circle or a +star, or placed in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> parallel rows; and lastly that a five-pointed star +was more symmetrical than-one with six points.</p> + +<p>“But,” asked Washington, “isn’t it more difficult to make?”</p> + +<p>In answer practical Betsy Ross took up a piece of paper, folded it +over, and with one clip of her scissors cleverly made a perfect star +with five even points.</p> + +<p>That was sufficient, and the general drew up his chair to her table +and made another pencil sketch, embodying her three suggestions. The +second sketch was copied and colored by a Philadelphia artist, William +Barrett, a painter of some note, who returned it to Mistress Ross. +Meantime not knowing just how to make a flag, for it must be sewed in a +particular way, she went to a shipping merchant, an old Scotchman who +was a friend of Robert Morris, to borrow a ship’s flag as a guide.</p> + +<p>And in this way Betsy Ross made the first Stars and Stripes. To try the +effect, the new flag was run up to the peak of one of the vessels in +the Delaware River, the story goes, a ship commanded by Paul Jones; and +the result was so pleasing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> that on the same day the flag was carried +into Congress and approved. At the same time the Congress passed a +resolution putting Paul Jones in command of the <i>Ranger</i>.</p> + +<p>“The flag and I were born the same day and hour,” Jones used to say. +“We are twins, we can not be parted in life or death. So long as we can +float, we shall float together. If we must sink we shall go down as +one.”</p> + +<p>It was not until June 14, 1777, that the Continental Congress passed +a resolution formally adopting this flag as the national standard, a +resolution reported to have been introduced by John Adams. Another and +unexplained delay followed, for not until September was this resolution +publicly promulgated.</p> + +<p>The fact that Betsy Ross was not named in the <i>Congressional +Record</i> has been considered by some sufficient evidence that the +whole story is a myth. But there is no Congressional record whatever +about the Cambridge flag, which was used for almost a year. Is it +surprising then that its modification was not put on record promptly? +There was no newspaper notice of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> resolution of June fourteenth, +the basis of our modern flag day. And in all the letters and diaries +and writings of the time, there is found no mention of this flag +resolution. Betsy Ross had made the flag months earlier, and all that +time it had been gradually coming into use. Does not that explain the +apparent lack of interest? This story she told, over and over and over, +to her daughters and grandchildren, and in later years they wrote the +account down, just as they had heard it from her, and as you have read +it here.</p> + +<p>We know too from other records that before the flag was officially +adopted by Congress, Elizabeth Ross was engaged in flagmaking. For +in May of 1777 the state navy board of Pennsylvania passed an order +to pay her the sum of fourteen pounds, twelve shillings and two +pence, for making ships’ colors for the fleet in the Delaware River. +And immediately after the resolution did pass, she was authorized +to proceed at once to manufacture a large number of flags for the +Continental Congress.</p> + +<p>For more than fifty years Betsy Ross continued<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> to make government +flags, with her daughters and nieces, and later her grandchildren, +helping her. She continued to sew red and white stripes together and +put five-pointed stars on the blue canton, even after her second +marriage to a sea captain, while he went back and forth to Europe +on his dangerous business, and during his imprisonment in England, +where he died. When his friend, who had been a fellow-prisoner, was +finally released and returned to Philadelphia to deliver to Betsy Ross +her husband’s little property, she married this messenger and kept +on making flags. Except for a brief residence with her daughter, she +continued to live in the quaint little house on Arch Street where the +flag was born. Shortly before her death she became completely blind; +but her busy fingers must keep on stitching, and with her little +grandsons to sort the colors for her, she sewed happily on carpet rags.</p> + +<p>When Mistress Ross retired from the business of making flags her +daughter Clarissa took over this work and carried it on until 1857. +Flags of many kinds they made—for army and navy, for arsenals and +the merchant marine; flags with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> thirteen stars in a circle, like a +round-robin to show that one state should have no precedence over the +others; flags with stars in parallel rows of four, five and four; flags +with fifteen stripes and stars; flags bearing the arms of Pennsylvania, +painted on the silk by William Barrett.</p> + +<p>It was George Washington, more than any other, who seems to have been +most interested in the question of a national flag. But it was to the +skilled needlewoman that he took his first rough design, to have her +opinion of its worth. It is to Betsy Ross that much of the beauty of +our flag is due. A true patriot of Revolutionary times, her humble life +is an incentive to others, showing that there is more than one way to +serve the nation—even if one is known only as a maker of ruffles.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br> +MARY LINDLEY MURRAY<br> +1720-1782</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Except for one day’s events the story of Mrs. Murray is quickly told. +A famous Quaker belle in Philadelphia was the beautiful Mary Lindley. +After her marriage to Robert Murray, a merchant, she lived near +Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and in North Carolina, until in 1753 they +moved to New York City, where Murray and Sansom soon became one of the +great merchandising firms of the time. There were a dozen children in +the Murray household, one son being Lindley Murray, the grammarian. +Hoping the milder climate would benefit her husband’s health, Mrs. +Murray took her family to England where they lived for eleven years, +returning to America during the first year of the Revolution.</p> + +<p>Always a belle, she is described as a lady of great dignity and +stateliness of manner, mild and amiable, quick at repartee. She and +her daughters were ardent patriots, but Mr. Murray, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> rich merchant +and landowner, was not unnaturally a Tory, loyal to the Crown. Shortly +before peace was made with England, after the success at Yorktown had +crowned Washington’s efforts for America, Mrs. Murray died.</p> + +<p>But on the fifteenth of September, 1776, Mary Lindley Murray gave aid +to Washington, her contribution to the War for Independence being +woman’s wit and beauty. That September was a difficult month for the +patriots. At the end of August had come the British victory at the +battle of Long Island, and Washington’s skilful retreat to Manhattan. +As usual Howe was dilatory in following and not until sixteen days +later did he cross with his troops.</p> + +<p>The fifteenth of September was a hot day. From their country house on +a hill near the center of Manhattan Island the Murrays looked down on +the new breastworks thrown up at Kip’s Bay. They knew the Americans +were scattered—the main force at the north on Harlem Heights, and +Putnam’s men far to the south. Then up the East River sailed five +British men-of-war and anchored opposite the Murray house, in the bay.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +Before the handful of militiamen had time to wonder why the ships had +come, out swarmed a number of dories. To the Murrays, watching from +the hill half a mile away, the river seemed suddenly dyed scarlet, for +under cover of the warships’ guns eighty-four boats landed the British +soldiers, while up the bank clambered four thousand Redcoats, driving +the Americans before them. At the first fire, the Continentals fled +from their trenches back to higher ground, fled in head-long retreat.</p> + +<p>Four miles to the north Washington heard the booming of cannon +and galloped down to the scene of action. To his astonishment and +consternation his men were flying in all directions. Riding excitedly +into the midst of the runaways he shouted, “Take to the wall! Take to +the cornfield!” His attempt to rally them was vain. Chagrined he would +have ridden straight into danger, had not an aide seized his horse’s +bridle and turned the general back toward safety. In great confusion +and disorder the post at the bay was deserted. And there were Putnam’s +divisions to the south, separated from the main army,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> caught in a trap +if the British threw their men across the island.</p> + +<p>Now this was exactly General Howe’s plan, but he failed to count Mrs. +Murray into his scheme. From the bay he marched west for a half-mile +until he came to the Murray house. Set in a wide lawn, with extensive +gardens on either side, “Belmont” was considered one of the loveliest +spots on the island. Its fair mistress had heard the firing, had seen +the disorderly retreat and realized what the Americans needed most of +all was time. She would make it for them!</p> + +<p>She posted a maid in the cupola of the great square mansion, with +orders to report to her by signals how Putnam was progressing. It was +a season of extreme drought, and the dense clouds of dust made it +easy to follow his march. At the proper time Mrs. Murray sent a negro +servant with a cordial invitation to General Howe and his staff to dine +with her. This genial Quaker lady was not unknown to the Britishers, +for they had met her in England. Here was an opportunity to renew the +acquaintance of peaceful days, but duty first, for a general.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p> + +<p>“I do thank you, madam,” was Howe’s courteous reply, “but I must first +catch that rascally Yankee, Putnam.”</p> + +<p>“Did thee not hear he had gone?” was her quick rejoinder. “It is too +late to catch him. Pursuit is hopeless. Thee had better come in and +dine.”</p> + +<p>If Putnam was really out of reach there was no need for haste, and +the day was sweltering. So across the broad veranda and into the cool +attractive house went Howe, with Clinton and Cornwallis and Governor +Tryon, and others of his staff. Outside, in the hot September sun, his +men rested and prepared and ate their midday meal. Within, Mrs. Murray +and her beautiful daughters proved charming hostesses, with a warm +welcome for their English guests. The good merchant, who was known to +be heartily loyal to the king, was not at home that day, but his rare +old Madeira was served with dainty cakes after the dinner.</p> + +<p>So witty and delightful was the talk, so keenly did the others enjoy +Tryon’s raillery of their hostess about her patriot friends and how +the ragged Continentals had run that morning, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> not one of them +noticed the rapid flight of time. And you may be sure that Mistress +Murray prolonged their stay, bearing the teasing with rare good humor +and making herself thoroughly agreeable, for every moment gained would +count.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, half a mile to the west, Putnam was hurrying northward, +his march greatly hampered by his cannon, his camp impedimenta, and +the refugee women and children. Terribly they suffered from the heat. +Alexander Hamilton gallantly led one company. A young major, Aaron +Burr, acted as guide, for he knew every foot of the ground; riding +back and forth he showed the patriots bypaths and lanes through the +thickets, until ahead they saw Washington’s tents on the heights of +Harlem, and knew they were safe. Through Mrs. Murray’s hospitality the +British had lost their chance to take four thousand prisoners. Her own +wit and her husband’s wine had saved the day.</p> + +<p>Behind the Harlem entrenchments the patriots were ready for Howe’s +attack the following morning, and a spirited encounter that was in +the buckwheat field. But the British failed to capture the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> heights +and so force Washington off the island. Counted only by the number of +men engaged, this was really not a great battle, but it was a great +victory for the Americans who had lost heart after their defeat on +Long Island and their forced evacuation of New York. It restored their +confidence and put new hope into their hearts. It clinched Washington’s +determination and made possible the brilliant exploits at Trenton and +Princeton.</p> + +<p>In Revolutionary journals kept by American and British soldiers you +will find Howe’s delay at the Murray home given as the reason for +Putnam’s escape. And it was a common saying among the Americans that +the beautiful Quaker lady had saved “Old Put,” the wolf-killer, and his +four thousand men. For patriotism and courage do not exist only behind +a bayonet. One can be heroic in any way that conquers circumstances.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br> +MOLLY PITCHER<br> +1754-1832</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mary Ludwig, the daughter of a German settler, was born on a small farm +between Princeton and Trenton in New Jersey. Her father was a dairyman +and Molly, like other children of her parentage, was brought up to work +hard. A typical German peasant girl, heavy-set, strong and sturdy, she +toiled in the fields, she milked the cows, and drove them to pasture. +The story is that she could swing a three-bushel sack of wheat to her +shoulder and carry it to the upstairs room of the granary; and this +strength and endurance stood her in good stead years later, for after +the battle of Princeton she picked up a wounded soldier, carried him +two miles to a farmhouse, and there nursed him back to health.</p> + +<p>A Mrs. Irvine from Carlisle, visiting in Trenton, wished to take a +young girl home with her to help in the housework. She saw buxom Molly +Ludwig, liked her honest face and wholesome,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> energetic appearance, and +on her return took the German girl with her. For some years Molly lived +with Doctor and Mrs. Irvine, and proved to be a valuable assistant in +their home. She did not like sewing, but she was expert at scrubbing +and scouring and washing—any kind of violent exercise!</p> + +<p>Near the Irvines’ house was a little barber shop kept by an Irishman, +John Hays. Whenever Molly was scrubbing the front steps or scouring +the door-knocker, the young barber was sure to be watching from his +window. When the girl was about sixteen years old, this courting ended +in marriage.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly Carlisle heard the news of Lexington, nothing but war +was talked of. Doctor Irvine, who had served in the French and Indian +campaigns, was colonel of a Pennsylvania regiment. Hays went as gunner +in the artillery, and when his time was out reenlisted under Colonel +Irvine.</p> + +<p>“I’m proud to be a soldier’s wife,” was Molly’s answer when he told +her he must go. “I’ll stand by you!” But neither of them guessed that +this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> would literally come true. No slacker, she waved him a cheerful +good-by, and went on with her household duties for Mrs. Irvine. But +when a few months later Hays sent her word to go back to her father’s, +as the troops were encamped near by and he could see her occasionally, +she too said, “I must go,” and rode off behind the messenger. At home +again Molly donned her rough farm garments, helping with the cattle, +working in the fields as before. And frequently John Hays paid a flying +visit to the little farm, and Molly occasionally went to visit him in +camp.</p> + +<p>During the Revolution it was not unusual for wives to accompany their +soldier husbands, not to fight, but to wash and mend and cook, to care +for the sick and wounded. Once while Molly was cooking for the men, +she had a large kettle over the fire which she wanted to remove, so +she called to a passing soldier to help her. His prompt compliance and +kindness of manner made her ask his name, and she was so astonished +that she almost dropped the kettle when she heard his reply, “I am +General Washington.”</p> + +<p>Hays and Doctor Irvine were both soldiers.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> Molly’s heart was with them +and with the country, fighting for independence. All she needed was +the opportunity to show of what mettle she was made. This came at the +battle of Monmouth Court House.</p> + +<p>After the winter’s drilling at Valley Forge, Washington followed +closely behind Clinton, who was marching across New Jersey from +Philadelphia. The British had an enormous amount of baggage and their +line was twenty miles long. The Americans waited for the chance to +attack. Cornwallis brought his men into line of action opposite Lee, +who ordered a retreat. Washington’s angry rebuke to Lee, plus the +splendid work of Mad Anthony Wayne and Lafayette and Knox and Greene, +saved the day for the patriot army. Lee’s record was stained by this +traitorous action. The outstanding hero of the day was Molly Hays.</p> + +<p>It was a very hot June Sunday. The blazing sun beat down on both +armies with scorching, record-breaking heat. Men and horses were +well-nigh overcome. The Americans, however, had the advantage, for +they were dressed for summer weather and had left their packs by the +meeting-house<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> at Freehold. The British had heavy woolen uniforms and +full knapsacks. The Hessians carried in addition to all this the load +of decorations which Frederick the Great thought necessary for his +soldiers.</p> + +<p>The air was sultry. Not a leaf stirred on the maple trees. Men dropped +fainting to the earth, from sunstroke. Yet the American guns were fired +vigorously, sending their sh’ot across the swamp into the British +ranks, and until night the battle went on. Sometimes under shelter, +sometimes under fire, Molly Hays went back and forth to the spring, +carrying water for the suffering men, and for wetting the sponges to +swab out the cannon. And the weary thirsty soldiers, welcoming the +sight of her with the sparkling water, would call out gratefully, “Here +comes Molly with her pitcher!” a call soon shortened to “Molly Pitcher!”</p> + +<p>On one of her trips from the well Molly saw her husband fall suddenly. +Accounts differ as to whether he was wounded, or had a sunstroke +working in the blistering heat near the cannon. General Knox, in +charge of the battery, had no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> competent man to put in Hays’ place and +was about to withdraw the gun, when Molly sprang forward, seized the +rammer and fired. A moment was sufficient to show that she could fill +her husband’s position, that she had the strength and nerve for his +task. The men cheered as she loaded and fired shot after shot, with +the skill of a veteran gunner. Her hair disheveled, her eyes blazing, +her hot face begrimed with powder and smoke and dust, barefooted like +many of the soldiers, she kept on with her perilous work. That night +the British stole silently away, leaving their dead and wounded, with +Washington in possession of the field. This victory was the last battle +of importance in the North, the beginning of a brighter period for the +Americans.</p> + +<p>The story of Molly Pitcher’s brave act spread through the camp. General +Greene thanked her, “in the name of the army.” The next morning in her +dusty, torn, powder-stained dress, she was presented to Washington. +With such honor as he would have shown to one of his gallant men, +he spoke a few words of sympathy and praise, gave her a sergeant’s +commission, and later<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> placed her name on the list of half-pay officers +for life.</p> + +<p>An old Revolutionary rhyme tells the story:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Moll Pitcher she stood by her gun</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And rammed the charges home, sir;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And thus on Monmouth’s bloody field</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A sergeant did become, sir.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Hays was the proudest man in the army, at Washington’s praise of his +wife, when he heard the soldiers cheer her to the echo. Lafayette asked +if his men “might have the pleasure of giving Madame a trifle,” and +invited Molly to review his troops. Between two long lines of French +officers she passed, and at the end her hat was filled with gold crowns.</p> + +<p>Until the close of the Revolution, Molly Hays, or Molly Pitcher, as +she was always called, remained with the army; and following her +husband’s death, shortly after the war ended, she lived for many +years at the Carlisle barracks, cooking and washing for the soldiers. +In 1794 she saw General Washington again, for when he was traveling +through Pennsylvania, he stopped near Carlisle, and Molly Pitcher made +a pilgrimage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> on foot to see him. When her story was recalled to the +general he greeted her most cordially.</p> + +<p>In 1822 the legislature of Pennsylvania, without a dissenting voice, +voted her the sum of forty dollars, and an annuity of that amount +during her lifetime. When she died ten years later, she was buried with +military honors, a company of soldiers firing a salute. On the Fourth +of July, 1876, there was unveiled at her grave a white marble monument +inscribed to “Molly Pitcher, the heroine of Monmouth.” And each year +on the thirtieth of May, along with the score of Revolutionary graves +in the churchyard, hers is decorated with flowers by the people of +Carlisle.</p> + +<p>In the little park at Freehold a monument was erected to commemorate +the victory of Monmouth Court House, and on one of its five panels +Molly Pitcher is shown, barefooted, ramming home the charge, her +husband lying exhausted at her feet. She was a real heroine, when the +need came, a true and courageous soldier.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br> +MARTHA WASHINGTON<br> +1732-1802</h2> +</div> + + +<p>On a great Virginia plantation in the year 1732 Martha Dandridge was +born. Her father was a prominent landowner and his daughter had the +usual education of the time—not much schooling in comparison with +to-day, but she learned to play the spinet, to dance gracefully, and +to sew with all the mysteries of elaborate stitches. A well-behaved, +pretty child she was who at fifteen made her début in Williamsburg, +the capital of Virginia, which then afforded the gayest social life in +America. Dressed in a stiff bodice and flowered petticoat, Martha was +the belle of the ball, and of many succeeding ones as well, for at once +she became a great favorite.</p> + +<p>When she was barely eighteen she married Daniel Parke Custis, a +wealthy landowner, who was more than twenty years her senior. They +lived near Williamsburg at his country home, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> “White House.” Seven +years later he died, leaving her with two young children and a great +fortune—thousands of pounds and thousands of acres of Virginia land.</p> + +<p>In May, 1758, Mrs. Custis was visiting at Major Chamberlayne’s, when +her host brought an unexpected guest—none other than young Colonel +George Washington, already a military hero and commander of the +Virginia troops. He was en route to Williamsburg to report to the +governor on the needs of his regiments, and when Major Chamberlayne +pressed him to stop, he had at first refused, but yielded when told +that the prettiest and richest widow in all Virginia was there.</p> + +<p>He would stay for dinner then, but must go on at once, and gave orders +accordingly to his servant, Bishop, bequeathed to him by General +Braddock. But when dinner was over and the horses were brought round +no Washington appeared, though Bishop had never known his master to be +late before. In the drawing-room the young colonel and the young widow +were talking, oblivious to everything else, while the impatient steeds +pawed the drive restlessly. Till the day<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> was done and twilight at hand +Washington loitered.</p> + +<p>“No guest can leave my house after sunset,” said the major, and +insisted that he must stay the night. Late the next morning Bishop +and his master rode away to Williamsburg. The little widow in the +white dimity frock, with the cluster of May-blossoms at her belt, and +the little white cap half covering her soft, wavy brown hair, had +completely captivated the soldier. His business in the town completed, +he rode on to the “White House.”</p> + +<p>“Is your mistress at home?” he asked the negro who met him at the ferry.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sah,” was the reply, and the man added, his white teeth flashing +in a broad smile, “I reckon you’s the man what’s ’spected!”</p> + +<p>Evidently he was, for when, on the following day, Washington left for +camp and the western campaign against Fort Duquesne, the two were +engaged.</p> + +<p>In January, 1759, when they had met just four times, Mrs. Custis and +George Washington were married. A brilliant scene the wedding was. +The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> guests included wealthy planters and their wives and daughters, +all very grand in their satins and brocades, English officers in army +and navy uniforms, the governor of Virginia, in scarlet embroidered +with gold, with a bag wig. The groom wore a blue suit, the coat lined +with scarlet silk and trimmed with silver, an embroidered white satin +waistcoat, with knee and shoe buckles of gold; while in contrast to +his six feet two was the little bride in a petticoat of white quilted +satin, with an overdress of white corded silk interwoven with silver +threads, high-heeled satin shoes with diamond buckles, point lace +ruffles and pearls. At the door, attracting almost as much attention as +the wedding party, stood Bishop in his red coat, holding his master’s +chestnut horse.</p> + +<p>With her three bridesmaids Mrs. Washington drove to her home in a coach +and six, while her husband and a group of his friends rode beside them. +Thus began their forty years of married life.</p> + +<p>After a few months in Williamsburg, to settle the business of the +Custis estate and to attend the meetings of the House of Burgesses, of +which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> Washington had been elected a member during his campaign against +the French, he took his bride to Mount Vernon, his eight-thousand acre +plantation on the Potomac River. Here they planned to live quietly, he +busy with his fields and flocks, she with the large household, and both +enjoying the growth of the Custis children. In a white apron and cap, +with a bunch of keys jingling at her side, Mrs. Washington supervised +the busy kitchen and slave quarters, looked after the strict training +and the lessons of the children, and was a charming hostess to their +guests.</p> + +<p>But public affairs changed and with them this quiet happy life. The +stamp act and oppressive taxes stirred the colonies. Like many patriot +women, Martha Washington ceased using tea at her table, ceased to buy +English cloth and other goods of English manufacture. No less than +sixteen spinning-wheels were kept busy at Mount Vernon, and on the +looms homespun was woven for the family’s clothing and for the large +number of slaves.</p> + +<p>Rapidly events moved to a crisis. The first Continental Congress was +called, and Washington<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> elected as one of Virginia’s three delegates. +When the party started north Mrs. Washington saw them off with these +words of wifely appreciation, “I hope you will all stand firm. I know +George will. God be with you, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>And this was not idle talk on her part, for she foresaw plainly the +consequences. At the many discussions and debates which had occurred at +their home, for and against English policy, she had said little, but +had listened intelligently. She summed it up in writing to a friend:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Dark days and darker nights, domestic happiness suspended, social +enjoyments abandoned, property put in jeopardy—but what are all these +evils when compared with the fate of which the Port Bill may be only a +threat? My mind is made up, my heart is in the cause.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The second Congress met the following May and Washington was +unanimously chosen commander-in-chief of the army. He wrote this news +to his wife at Mount Vernon, adding that he hoped to return in the +autumn. Instead he then invited her to come to him in Cambridge, but +carefully pointed out the difficulties of the journey. Unhesitating, +undismayed, a true soldier’s wife,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> she set out for the long trip to +the North, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to +leave the ease and security of her southern home and spend the winter +in a New England camp on the outskirts of a city held by the enemy.</p> + +<p>The coach with its four horses, and postillions in white and scarlet +livery, attracted great attention. In the country people rushed to +doors and windows to get a sight of her. In the towns she was met by +escorts of Continental soldiers, the ringing of bells, and enthusiastic +cheering. With a mingled feeling of pride and wonder this little woman, +who had never been out of Virginia, realized what it was to be the wife +of General Washington.</p> + +<p>This was a real farewell to the quiet plantation and the beginning +of her public life. Except for the year when Trenton and Princeton +and active winter campaigning made it too dangerous for women to be +present, it was Martha Washington’s custom to join her husband when +the army went into winter quarters, and to march back home when work +opened with the spring. Thus she heard the first and last gun of every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> +campaign, and described herself as a perambulator for those eight years.</p> + +<p>Because she was the wife of the general, it did not follow that she +could live in luxury. In Cambridge to be sure headquarters were in +the Craigie House, later the home of the poet Longfellow; and here +Mrs. Washington had some social life, with the wives of the Harvard +professors. But in other places lodgings were often very, very +uncomfortable, “a squeezed-up room or two.” At Valley Forge a log +cabin was built—near a Quaker farmhouse where the Washingtons had +two rooms—to serve as a kitchen and dining-room; but when this same +plan was proposed for the headquarters at Morristown, no lumber was +available! At Newburgh their inconvenient dining-room had one window +and seven doors, and the sitting-room was so small that when Washington +entertained a French officer, the guest had to sit on a camp bed.</p> + +<p>Martha Washington’s presence lessened the general’s cares and broke +the monotony of the long anxious winters. She was always a delightful +hostess and even with camp limitations her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> hospitality and genial +manner reminded her guests of Virginia. Nearly every day some of the +young officers and their wives were invited to dinner, the General and +Mrs. Washington sitting side by side, while Alexander Hamilton carved.</p> + +<p>Martha Washington was always a simple, dignified woman, as a group of +Morristown ladies who went to call upon her testified. Having heard +that the general’s wife was a very grand lady, they wore their best +bibs and bands, and most elegant silks and ruffles. Mrs. Washington, in +a plain homespun dress and a “specked” (checked) apron, received them +very graciously, a half knit stocking in her left hand, the ball of +yarn in her pocket. After the usual compliments were over, she resumed +her knitting.</p> + +<p>“And there we were,” described one of the women afterward, “without a +stitch of work, and sitting in state, but General Washington’s lady was +knitting socks!”</p> + +<p>She showed them two dresses of cotton and silk, woven at Mount Vernon, +the stripes made from ravelings of brown silk stockings and old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +crimson damask chair covers. She took pains to tell them that the +livery of her coachmen was all homespun, save for the scarlet cuffs, +made of English material imported long before the war.</p> + +<p>After that visit, work for the soldiers, rather than fine feminine +clothes, became the fashion in Morristown.</p> + +<p>At another New Jersey headquarters Washington was staying at a private +house, whose mistress one day saw a coach drive up to the door, with +ten dragoons as the escort. Out stepped a plain little woman dressed +in brown homespun, wearing a hood; over her bosom was folded a large +white kerchief. She must be a maid, thought the hostess, until she saw +General Washington greeting her, and inquiring about the children, and +his favorite horses at Mount Vernon. The general’s wife, dressed like +that!</p> + +<p>Everywhere the soldiers loved Lady Washington, as they called her. +During the sad winter at Valley Forge, when the army was in desperate +straits, suffering greatly from lack of food and blankets and clothing, +and the consequent constant sickness, she went to share the soldiers’ +privations<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> and make a spot of cheer in their dreary lives. She arrived +in a rough farm sleigh, hired from the innkeeper at the forks of the +Brandywine, where the deep snow had forced her to abandon her coach. +Stanch patriot that she was, she made light of inconveniences and +discomforts and hardships; and never was a woman busier than Martha +Washington, all that dismal winter. In a cloak and hood, with her +basket on her arm, she went in the deep snow from hut to hut, carrying +delicacies for the sick and consolation for the dying, and by her +sympathy and generosity stimulating the loyalty and courage of the +men. “God bless Lady Washington!” was frequently heard, when her kind, +motherly face appeared.</p> + +<p>Day after day she assembled in her two rooms the wives of the +officers, to knit and patch, and make new garments whenever materials +could be secured. No more embroidering and spinet playing, and other +light accomplishments! The work these women did at Valley Forge was +far-reaching in its effects. News of it spread to Philadelphia, where +the British were having a gay winter, and the patriotic ladies there +commenced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> making shirts for the soldiers, and ultimately contributed +nearly three thousand garments. Small in amount, perhaps, in comparison +with such service to-day; but Martha Washington was a pioneer, +anticipating the work of the Sanitary Commission and the American Red +Cross.</p> + +<p>Officers, soldiers and women, all were steadied by her serenity and +unwavering faith. And when the middle of March brought better times, +she led in the camp gaiety. The news of the French alliance was +celebrated with a grand review. The soldiers cheered for the king of +France, for the thirteen states, for their general; then there came +shouts of “Long live Lady Washington!” and a thousand hats were tossed +into the air in the excitement.</p> + +<p>Yorktown and victory, and the end of the war in sight, but Washington +must remain on duty until peace was actually signed. Martha Washington +was present, sitting in the gallery of the old capitol at Annapolis, +when he resigned his commission; and together they drove to Mount +Vernon, arriving on Christmas Eve. Standing at the door of his cottage +to welcome them was old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> Bishop, dressed in the scarlet regimentals he +had worn at Braddock’s defeat. All the servants and slaves assembled, +and such a Christmas celebration as Mount Vernon had!</p> + +<p>More than all else the Washingtons longed for quiet days on their +plantation, to enjoy the rest they so much needed. But there +were guests innumerable, so that Mount Vernon was described as +a well-resorted tavern. When he had been home almost two years, +Washington wrote in his diary,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Dined with only Mrs. Washington, which I believe is the first +instance of it since my retirement from public life.”</p> +</div> + +<p>This furlough, as the general used to speak of it, was not destined +to continue overlong. The federation of the states proved too weak a +government, and Washington must go to Philadelphia for months, to sit +as president of the Constitutional Convention. Then after the people +had ratified the Constitution, there came one day riding up the broad +drive at Mount Vernon the aged secretary of Congress, with a letter +notifying George Washington that he had been elected president of the +United States.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I little thought when the war was finished,” wrote Martha Washington, +“that any circumstances could possibly have happened which would call +the General into public life again. I had anticipated that we should +have been left to grow old in solitude and tranquillity together. That +was the first and dearest wish of my heart.... Yet I can not blame him +for having acted according to his ideas of duty in obeying the voice +of his country.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Alone to New York for the inauguration went George Washington, wearing +a homespun suit woven at Mount Vernon. When his wife, likewise dressed +in homespun, followed a few weeks later, her welcome all along the +journey was second only to his. She entered many a town between two +long columns of Revolutionary soldiers; and at New York City she was +rowed across the bay by thirteen oarsmen dressed in white, while the +guns fired thirteen rounds and crowds cheered her.</p> + +<p>As the president’s wife, Martha Washington was hostess for the nation, +entertaining distinguished citizens and foreigners, cabinet officers +and congressmen, presiding at the state dinners and giving public +receptions every Friday, where<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> plum cake, tea and coffee were served. +The guests were always dismissed before nine, with her grave, frank +little formula, “For the general always retires at nine, and I usually +precede him.” The need over, she laid aside her homespun and dressed in +silk, satin, velvet and lace, as became the wife of the president.</p> + +<p>People criticized Mrs. Washington for the ceremony in force at her +levees, saying they were too much like those of royalty. Guests were +shocked because they had to stand, while the truth was, the rooms +would not have contained a third enough chairs. Presided over by the +Washingtons, the executive mansion combined with the most ardent +patriotism a dignity and elegant moderation that would have honored +any European court. They saved the social life of a new country from +both the crudeness and bald simplicity of extreme republicanism, and +from the luxury and excesses often marking sudden elevation to power +and place. And in all these social functions Mrs. Washington never +joined in any political discussion. Though the letters between her and +her husband were filled with talk of public affairs, she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> was never +once heard to utter any opinion on important questions of state; and +in this, as in many details of her life, she is a worthy model for any +American woman whose husband is in public service.</p> + +<p>The year in New York was followed by similar years in Philadelphia, +after the capital was moved there. The second term of the presidency +over and a third term refused, the Washingtons gladly returned to +Virginia; their joy being evidenced in this letter:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“I can not tell you how much I enjoy home, after having been deprived +of one so long, for our dwelling in New York and Philadelphia was +not home, only sojourning. The General and I feel like children just +released from school or from a hard taskmaster, and we believe that +nothing can tempt us to leave the sacred roof tree again, except on +private business or pleasure. I am fairly settled down to the pleasant +duties of an old-fashioned Virginia housekeeper, steady as a clock, +busy as a bee, and cheerful as a cricket.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Happily they lived at Mount Vernon two years, until the general’s +death. During his brief illness Mrs. Washington never left his room.</p> + +<p>“’Tis well,” were his last words.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> + +<p>“Is he dead?” she asked, so gentle had been the change. “’Tis well. All +is over now. I shall soon follow him. I have no more trials to pass +through.”</p> + +<p>She moved up to a little attic room whose windows looked out toward his +grave, and beyond to the waters of the Potomac which he had so loved. +Surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, cheerful in +her sorrow and loneliness, she survived him two years, and when she +died, was buried beside him in the simple brick tomb at Mount Vernon.</p> + +<p>A woman not wise nor great perhaps in any worldly sense, Martha +Washington had those qualities of heart that make a noble rounded +character. A devoted and loyal wife, a tender mother, an earnest +Christian, she was fitted to be the chosen companion of “the greatest +of our soldiers and the purest of our patriots.” Serene and kindly, in +the familiar white cap and kerchief, she has become the nation’s ideal +of the president’s wife, our country’s first hostess.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br> +JEMIMA JOHNSON<br> +1753-1814</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Of Jemima Johnson, pioneer and volunteer, I can tell you very little. +Just this one incident has come down to us, but you are surely right +in thinking that the rest of her life was in harmony with this day’s +heroism.</p> + +<p>It happened in Kentucky, when the Revolutionary fighting was almost +ended, but before peace had come to the frontier. Raid after raid on +isolated settlements was made by the Indians, stirred up continually by +the British in Canada. People were murdered and tortured with shocking +barbarity, for once started the red men could not be controlled. Chief +among them were the Wyandottes, a tribe that stood first for military +skill and ferocious valor, and with them was the notorious renegade, +Simon Girty, whose name was a byword and a hissing along the frontier.</p> + +<p>Bryan’s Station was a Kentucky settlement of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> forty cabins connected +by strong palisades, set in a clearing with thick woods all around. +One August day in 1782 messengers arrived, saying that the Indians +were threatening to attack a neighboring fort and asking for aid. The +men at Bryan’s made ready to go and at dawn Captain Craig had finished +his preparations when he discovered a group of savages in full view, +just on the edge of the woods. There were only a few of them, and +being out of rifle range they were exposing themselves carelessly and +indifferently.</p> + +<p>“They’re trying to attract our attention,” Craig immediately said to +himself. “Do they think that because they’re few we’ll leave the fort +and pursue them?”</p> + +<p>Their actions made him suspicious, for he had been trained in Indian +fighting in the school of Daniel Boone. He ordered the relief party to +wait while he called the principal men of the station to a council. +They agreed that it was only a feint on the part of the savages to +invite an attack, and that the main fight would come from the other +side. They would meet one trick with another and beat the Indians at +their own game.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span></p> + +<p>But the siege would be severe, perhaps long. Nothing could be done +until they had a supply of water—and the spring was not inside the +palisade, as was the frontier custom, but a short distance away, near +the very spot where the red men were hiding in the thick woods. The +night before only the ordinary amount of water had been brought in. +The buckets were empty, and it was a hot August day. Life inside the +stockade, even though there were no battle, would be unendurable. +Captain Craig thought a moment, then called up the women and children, +and told them his plan.</p> + +<p>“Will you, you women and you children who are large enough, go down to +the spring, with every bucket you can carry, and bring back water? Our +lives depend upon it. We think the Indians are hidden near the spring, +waiting. Now if you’ll go, just as you do every morning, I think +they’ll not molest you, for that would break up their plan. As far as +we can we’ll cover you with our rifles. You see, don’t you, that this +is our only hope? If we men go to the spring, it would be so unusual +that it would rouse their suspicions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> at once; and if we were shot +down, there would be no one to save the fort and you. Will you go?”</p> + +<p>They were quick to appreciate the situation. Of course Captain Craig +might be all wrong in his theory. The savages might capture the women +and children, right under the eyes of the men in the fort. No one could +tell what they might do. It was a terrible state of affairs. They +knew what capture meant—death by torture. They had not lived on the +frontier for nothing. A shudder of terror went through the group.</p> + +<p>Water we must have.</p> + +<p>The men can’t go for it.</p> + +<p>We women will.</p> + +<p>Such were the steps Jemima Johnson’s thoughts took, and instantly she +volunteered. The Spartan daughter of a fearless pioneer, the sister of +others, the wife of another, Jemima Suggett Johnson was also the mother +of five little children, and her husband was away in Virginia. But she +was the first to offer to go.</p> + +<p>Quickly she gave her orders: Betsy, who was ten, was to go with her; +Sally, to look after the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> two little boys as well as watch baby +Richard, in his cradle. Now who would go with her for the water?</p> + +<p>Armed with wooden dippers, the wives of the Craig brothers and their +children volunteered. Others quickly offered. Captain Craig opened +the gate and out they marched after Captain Johnson—twelve women and +sixteen children—true helpmates of those sturdy frontiersmen. They +were nearly overcome with terror, yet they laughed and chatted as +they tramped down the hill some sixty yards to the spring. A few of +the younger ones found it hard to hide their agitation, but Jemima +Johnson’s steadiness and cool composed manner reassured them and +completely deceived the savages.</p> + +<p>Within a stone’s throw the Indians were concealed, and with eager +covetous eyes watched the women filling their buckets. It took some +time to dip up water for so many, but Captain Johnson had said each +must wait until they were all ready to start back. Then deliberately +they made their way up the hill to the fort, and not a shot was fired, +for the Indians, in the hope of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> carrying out their original plan, did +not betray their presence.</p> + +<p>Some of the children, as they neared the gate, broke into a run and +crowded into the door of the stockade, but only a little of the +precious water was spilled. With sighs of relief the fifty men in the +fort saw their wives and children safe again, and the supply of water +stored away.</p> + +<p>Then Captain Craig began to carry out his part of the scheme. Thirteen +of his men were sent to the front of the fort, to engage the Indians +there, with as much noise and confusion as possible. This, he guessed, +was the signal agreed upon for the main body of savages to attack at +the back of the stockade. So at the loopholes there he posted the rest +of his men, with strict orders to make no move, to fire not a gun, +till he gave them word. Hearing the noise at the front of the fort, +the Indians near the spring dashed from cover and up to the back wall, +which they supposed was undefended. They shouted their savage war +cries, expecting an easy victory. Then suddenly the stockade bristled +with rifles, and a steady fire was poured into the Indians massed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> for +the attack. With cries of terror they fled to the woods; but all day +long the firing continued. Deaths in the fort were very few, but any +Indian who exposed himself was sure to be killed by the unerring shot +of a frontiersman. Two savages climbed a tree, to fire from there, but +were quickly dislodged. They shot burning arrows up into the air, to +fall on the roofs of the buildings, but the plucky children put out +the fires as fast as they were started. Betsy Johnson even tossed one +arrow off baby Richard’s cradle. The women who had brought the water +that made this long defense possible, molded bullets and loaded rifles, +repaired breaches in the palisade, and sometimes took their places at +the loopholes.</p> + +<p>At last the Indians decided their efforts could not succeed, so they +killed the cattle, burned the fields of grain, and made the country +look like a desert. Then they stole away in the night.</p> + +<p>Thus Bryan’s Station was saved, due in large measure to Jemima Johnson +and her party of women who brought in the water. Years later the baby +Richard commanded the Kentucky regiment whose brilliant charge decided +the battle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> of the Thames. He, it was believed, killed the Indian chief +Tecumseh. And this same son of Jemima Johnson became vice-president of +the United States.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br> +SACAJAWEA<br> +1790-1884</h2> +</div> + + +<p>During the last years of the eighteenth century, in an Indian village +along the banks of the Snake River, just west of the Bitter Root +Mountains, in what is now the state of Idaho, a little girl was born. +She was named Sacajawea (Sah-cah″-jah-we′ah), which in English means +“Bird-woman.” Of her early life there is little to tell. She doubtless +lived as did the rest of her tribe, grinding corn into meal, providing +the food, always out-of-doors, alert and resourceful.</p> + +<p>When she was about nine years old the Shoshones (or Snake Indians, as +they were sometimes called) were attacked suddenly by their hereditary +foe, the Minnetarees of Knife River. They hastily retreated three miles +up-stream and concealed themselves in the woods, but the enemy pursued. +Being too few to contend successfully, the Shoshone men mounted their +horses and fled,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> while the women and children scattered, but were soon +captured. Sacajawea tried to escape by crossing the river at a shallow +place, but half-way over was taken prisoner.</p> + +<p>Eastward the captives were hurried, to a Minnetaree village near the +present city of Bismarck, North Dakota, and here the girl Sacajawea was +sold as a slave to Toussaint Chaboneau, a French half-breed, a wanderer +and interpreter for the Northwest Fur Company. When she was about +fourteen, an age considered womanhood among the Indians, Chaboneau +married her.</p> + +<p>In October of that year, 1804, there was much excitement in the +village. Up the river from the south came a great boat, filled with +white men, who, finding a good site for their camp on an island not +far from the Minnetaree wigwams, landed, built a number of log huts +and remained throughout the winter. From all the region roundabout the +inquisitive Indians were continually visiting these white men whose +errand was strange though peaceable. Not to make war, but to travel far +to the west had they come. Among their supplies were many things about +which the savages<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> were curious. The squaws particularly were attracted +by a mill that would grind their maize, enviously comparing its ease +and speed with their slow methods. They longed for many articles in +the white men’s packs, and were glad to barter their corn for blue and +white beads, for rings and for cloth. There was constant trading, and +many, many were the questions asked about the great unknown country to +the north and west.</p> + +<p>A Canadian half-breed served the two white leaders of the party as +interpreter. They also talked through Chaboneau, who knew both French +and an Indian dialect, and who one day pointed out Sacajawea to them +saying proudly, “She my slave, I buy her from de Rock Mountain, I make +her my wife.” When they heard who the Bird-woman was, they invited +her and her husband to go with them on their long journey. He could +interpret for some of the tribes, she for the Shoshones, for she had +not forgotten the language of her childhood.</p> + +<p>On the eleventh of February Sacajawea’s son Baptiste was born, and +a merry little papoose he proved to be. The travelers started west +on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> the seventh of April, Chaboneau accompanying them, and Sacajawea +carrying her baby, not quite two months old; every step of that +five-thousand-mile journey she carried him, so that he was the most +traveled papoose in the land.</p> + +<p>Taking the Bird-woman with them was an extremely wise measure on the +part of the leaders, Lewis and Clark. Her presence was a sure guarantee +that their intentions were peaceful, for no Indian tribe ever took a +woman in their war parties. For the whole group of men the presence of +this gentle, virtuous, retiring little woman and her baby must have had +a softening, humanizing effect, greater than they were aware. Near the +fire she would sit, making moccasins and crooning a song in her soft +Indian monotone, while the baby toddled about, the two giving a touch +of domesticity to that Oregon winter.</p> + +<p>There were many heroes of this journey to the Far West, but only one +heroine—this modest, unselfish, tireless squaw. With the strongest of +the men she canoed and trudged and climbed and starved, always with +the baby strapped on her back. Long dreary months of toil she endured<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> +like a Spartan. Instead of being a drag on their progress she was time +and again the inspiration, the genius of the expedition. And in their +journals both Lewis and Clark gave her frequent credit for her splendid +services and frankly acknowledged in terms of respect and admiration +their indebtedness to her.</p> + +<p>One May afternoon when the travelers had been five or six weeks on +their journey and were making good time with a sail hoisted on their +boat, a sudden squall of wind struck them. The boat nearly went over, +for Chaboneau, who was an interpreter and not a helmsman, lost his +head, let go the tiller and called loudly to God for mercy. The water +poured in and the boat was almost capsized before the men could cut the +sail down. Out on the stream floated valuable papers and instruments, +books, medicine, and a great quantity of merchandise. Always plucky +in trouble, Sacajawea, who was in the rear, saved nearly all of these +things, which were worth far more than their intrinsic value, since +to replace them meant a journey of three thousand miles and a year’s +delay. No wonder that Clark added, when speaking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> of the quick action +of the Bird-woman, “to whom I ascribe equal fortitude and resolution +with any person on board at the time of the accident.”</p> + +<p>Soon after this, from the tenth of June to the twenty-fourth, Sacajawea +was very ill. One of the white captains bled her, a process that must +have seemed strange to the Indian girl, but from their journals one +can see that excellent care was taken of her. The party must continue +on its way, so she was moved into the back part of the boat which +was covered over and cool. All one night the Bird-woman complained, +refusing the medicine offered her, while Chaboneau made constant +petition to be allowed to return with his squaw.</p> + +<p>The leaders were concerned for Sacajawea for they knew enough of +medicine to see that her case was serious. And they were also concerned +for the expedition’s sake, for she was their sole dependence to +negotiate with the Shoshone Indians on whom they relied for help. Lewis +therefore determined to make camp till she was entirely restored. He +persuaded her to take some laudanum and herbs and two days later wrote +in his diary:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Indian woman much better to-day. Continued same course of medicine. +She is free from pain, clear of fever, her pulse regular, eats as +heartily as I am willing to permit her of broiled buffalo well +seasoned with pepper and salt and rich soup of the same meat.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The next day she improved rapidly, sat up for a time and even walked +out. But alas! this brief period of convalescence Sacajawea evidently +thought sufficient, and the following morning she</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“walked out and gathered a considerable quantity of white apples +of which she ate so heartily in their raw state, together with a +considerable quantity of dried fish without my knowledge that she +complained very much and her fever returned. I rebuked Chaboneau +severely for suffering her to indulge herself with such food, and gave +her diluted nitre and thirty drops of laudanum.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The next day, however, she appeared to be in a fair way for recovery, +walking about and fishing, so the party again started westward.</p> + +<p>Nine days later, while Clark, Chaboneau and Sacajawea were making a +portage, they noticed a black cloud coming up rapidly in the west. +Hunting about for shelter they found a ravine protected by shelving +rocks. Clark had laid aside<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> his gun and compass, the Bird-woman her +baby’s extra clothes and his cradle, when suddenly rain fell in such a +torrent that it washed down rocks and earth from higher up the gorge. A +landslide followed but just before the heaviest part of it struck them, +the white captain seized his gun in one hand and with the other dragged +Sacajawea, her baby in her arms, up the steep bank. Chaboneau caught at +her and pulled her along, but was too frightened to be of much help.</p> + +<p>Down the ravine in a rolling torrent came the rain, with irresistible +force, driving rocks and earth and everything before it. The water rose +waist high and before Clark could reach the higher ground had ruined +his watch. The compass and the cradle and the baby’s clothes were +washed away. By the time they reached the top of the hill the water +was fifteen feet deep in the ravine. Anxious lest little Baptiste take +cold and fearful that Sacajawea should suffer a relapse, Clark hurried +the group to camp with all possible speed and gave the Indian woman a +little spirits to revive her.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of July they came to a country<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> which Sacajawea knew. At +first she was guided by instinct, like a homing bird. Then she began +to recognize familiar landmarks, for this was where she had lived as +a little girl. Both as guide and interpreter she was now the leading +individual in the party, and of invaluable service. Often the white +men could not see plainly the buffalo paths and Indian trails, but she +divined them immediately. During her childhood she had traveled this +road often, for it was the great resort of the Shoshones who came there +to gather quamash and to trap the beaver.</p> + +<p>Reaching the three forks of the Missouri River she advised that they +follow the southern branch, as that was the route her tribe always took +when crossing into the plains. One of their camps, the Bird-woman said, +was on the very spot where she herself had been taken prisoner.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“She showed no distress at these recollections,” comments the record, +“nor any joy at the prospect of being restored to her country, for +she seems to possess the folly or philosophy of not suffering her +feelings to extend beyond the anxiety of having plenty to eat and a +few trinkets to wear.”</p> +</div> + +<p>But that Sacajawea had no emotions was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> clearly a mistaken inference, +for the journal, a few days later, has an interesting story to tell. +Hoping to find an Indian trail that would lead to a tribe which could +supply them guides and horses, they landed, resolved to succeed if it +took a month’s time. It seemed a forlorn search, but at all costs these +two necessities must be had.</p> + +<p>With Chaboneau and his wife, Clark was walking along the shore, the +Indians a hundred yards ahead, when Sacajawea began to dance and show +every mark of the most extravagant joy, turning round to the white +captain, pointing to several Indians approaching them, and sucking her +fingers to show that they belonged to her tribe. Suddenly a woman made +her way through the crowd, ran toward her and embraced her with the +most tender affection. Companions in childhood, they had been taken +prisoner at the same time and had shared captivity. Finally the one +had escaped, while the other was left to be sold as a slave to the +half-breed interpreter. A peculiarly touching meeting this was, for +they had scarcely hoped ever to see each other again, and now they were +renewing their friendship.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span></p> + +<p>The two white captains meanwhile had a long conference with the +Shoshone chief. After smoking together, gifts were exchanged. Then +in order to converse more intelligently, Sacajawea was sent for. She +sat down and began to translate, when, looking intently at the Indian +chief, she recognized him as her brother. Jumping up she ran to him, +embraced him, threw her blanket over him and wept. The chief himself +was moved. Sacajawea tried to go on with her work of interpretation, +but seemed overpowered by the situation and was frequently interrupted +by tears.</p> + +<p>Cameahwait, the Shoshone chief, agreed to aid the white men, giving +them horses and guides, in which business Sacajawea was of the greatest +help. She had a long talk with her brother, telling him of the great +power of the American government, of the advantages he would receive by +trading with the whites, and completely won the good will of her nation +as she did that of other tribes they met. She persuaded her people to +make the white men’s journey through their country possible.</p> + +<p>Now the chief wealth of the Shoshone Indians<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> was in their small wiry +horses, fleet and sure-footed. Fine presents the white chiefs gave in +exchange for pack-horses—an axe, a knife, a handkerchief and a little +paint, all for one horse. As long as the supply of kettles held out, +a kettle and a white pony were considered an even trade. Sometimes +instead of the coveted kettle Clark would give a sword, a hundred +bullets and powder, with some additional small articles. Once three +horses were bargained for with one of the Indians, who left, the proud +possessor of a chief’s coat, handkerchiefs, a shirt, leggings and a few +arrow points. One day after many wares were offered in exchange for +otter skins, Sacajawea gave the precious beads which she wore around +her waist.</p> + +<p>The Bird-woman was invaluable also as an interpreter. The captains +would speak in English, which was put into French by one of the men, +Chaboneau then repeated it in the Minnetaree dialect to his wife, who +translated it into the Shoshone tongue which was understood by an +Indian boy in the party, and he in turn told it to the tribe with whom +Lewis and Clark wished to talk. Do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> you wonder that when possible they +all used sign language, and relied still more on the language of gifts?</p> + +<p>The Americans were surprised that Sacajawea showed no desire to remain +with her own people, but her loyalty and devotion to the explorers were +unfailing. Once she learned of threatened treachery on the part of her +tribe, that they planned to break camp and go down the Missouri River +to the buffalo country on the east, taking with them the horses which +had been promised to the white men. This would leave the newcomers +stranded in the mountains, the lack of horses preventing their going +westward. Immediately she told Lewis and Clark, who called the chiefs +together, and after some discussion the plan was changed. By the end of +August, with a replenished larder and fresh horses, the explorers were +ready to start once more on their journey westward.</p> + +<p>The road, Sacajawea told the white captains, was over steep and rocky +mountains, in whose fastnesses they would come to the narrow divide +marking the source of the Missouri River. An<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> hour later they would +find a stream running west, that would grow into a large river and flow +on till it came to the great waters far away. But there was no food +along its course, no paths along its rocky banks, no canoes could swim +on its rough current. If they went on they must follow rude Indian +trails where there was no game. For ten days they must cross a sandy +desert. In many places travel would be slow.</p> + +<p>Slow progress indeed it was, on this toilsome, dangerous journey. +Some days five miles was the best they could make; other days they +went forward scarcely at all. Food became scarce, and among the men, +as winter weather came on, there was much sickness. Once they had a +six-day storm that drenched everything they had on. And by this time +their supply of dried meat and fish was exhausted.</p> + +<p>They followed obscure windings of Indian trails, known only to the +savages. Sometimes they made their way through wild cañons strewn with +stones; sometimes they climbed painfully up a rough slippery height, or +skirted the edge of a precipice. Almost a month was spent in getting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +through the mountains. Cold, half-starved, fatigued, ragged, footsore, +they came out on the other side, more like fugitives than conquerors.</p> + +<p>What would they have done without Sacajawea? Dauntless and determined, +always cheerful and resourceful, she had in her care the lives and +fortunes of the whole party. It was she who gathered plants unknown +to the white captains and cooked them into a mush. It was she who +varied their monotonous diet by roasting, boiling and drying fennel +roots, and stewing wild onions with their meat. It was she who found +berries and edible seeds when starvation seemed the only outcome. She +searched in the prairie dogs’ holes with a sharp stick and discovered +wild artichokes, as valuable as potatoes, with a delicious flavor. She +taught the white men how to break shank bones of elk, boil them and +extract the grease to make “trapper’s butter.” When Clark was ill she +made bread for him with some flour she had saved for her baby—the only +mouthful he tasted for days.</p> + +<p>Late in November they reached the coast and spent the winter, a forlorn +group, at Fort Clatsop.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> There was much sickness and the strength of +the men began to fail. There was nothing but dried fish for food, and +it rained and rained till their clothes and bedding rotted away.</p> + +<p>They had a strange celebration on Christmas day, when the men sang +songs in the morning, and the Bird-woman brought a gift to Clark—two +dozen white weasels’ tails!</p> + +<p>In January during a brief interval of sunny weather, they planned to +go to the beach to get oil and blubber from a whale that was reported +stranded there. Sacajawea had heard of the Pacific in the legends of +her tribe, she had heard of whales too, and begged to be allowed to go. +Had she traveled all that long way only to fail to see the great waters +and the great fish? So Clark agreed that she should accompany them. +When they arrived the Indians had already disposed of the whale, the +skeleton, a hundred and five feet long, being all that was left.</p> + +<p>Because of sickness and scant stores of food, bitterly disappointed +when no trading ships appeared with fresh supplies, they began the +return trip early in March instead of in April. Progress<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> was so rapid +that the journey which westward had lasted for full eight months, was +made in five, and six weeks of this time was taken up by a detour. The +party divided and Clark, with Chaboneau and Sacajawea as guides, went +to explore the Yellowstone.</p> + +<p>In August they were once more at the Minnetaree village where the +Bird-woman had first seen the white captains and their mill for +grinding corn. Here the leaders said good-by to their Indian friend and +guide. Clark offered to take the family to the states, give them land, +horses, cows and hogs to start farming, or a boatload of merchandise +as a stock for trading. But Chaboneau preferred to remain among the +Indians, saying he had no acquaintance in the East and no chance of +making a livelihood. Clark then offered to take the baby, “my little +dancing boy Baptiste,” now eighteen months old, and bring him up as his +own child, but Sacajawea refused.</p> + +<p>Chaboneau’s wages, together with the payment for a horse, were five +hundred dollars and thirty-three cents. The records say not a word of +any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> sum for Sacajawea whose faithfulness and intelligence had made +success possible. She who could divine routes, who had courage when the +men quailed, who could spread as good a table with bones as others with +meat, was unthought of when bounties in land and money were granted.</p> + +<p>Writing back to Chaboneau a few days later, Clark did indeed give her +full credit when he said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Your woman who accompanied you that long and dangerous and fatiguing +route to the Pacific Ocean and back deserved a greater reward for her +attention and services on that route than we had in our power to give +her at the Mandans.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Chaboneau’s money probably served to establish his family very +comfortably in the village in Dakota. You can imagine what stories they +told of their adventures during the long winter evenings—of the wild +animals they met, of their escape from the cloudburst at the Great +Falls, of the mysterious, explosive sounds heard in the mountains, of +the portages they made, of shooting the rapids in the Columbia, of +their struggle among the snows of the Bitter Root range, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> of the +great salt ocean at the sunset—for they had taken part in the most +remarkable exploration of modern times.</p> + +<p>For many years there is no record of Sacajawea. Clark, as +superintendent of Indian affairs, in 1837 appointed Chaboneau +interpreter, with a salary of three hundred dollars. And there is one +official item, an expense account for a boy (possibly Baptiste) in +school at Saint Louis, which was paid to Chaboneau, in 1820. The little +papoose who traveled all that long journey grew up to be a guide, with +his mother’s native instinct and cleverness. He served with Bridger +in southwest Wyoming; he is mentioned with Fremont in 1842 and from +sometime in the sixties he lived on an Indian reservation in Fremont +County, Wyoming.</p> + +<p>Sacajawea was there with him after 1871. An old, old woman, she is +described by one of the missionaries, Doctor Irwin, short of stature, +spare of figure, quick in her movements, remarkably straight and +wonderfully active and intelligent considering her great age. She +often told of her journey to the place of “much water<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> for the great +Washington,” as the government was always referred to, and talked of +the “big waters beyond the shining mountains, toward the setting sun.” +And on that reservation she died and was buried.</p> + +<p>The journey of the two white captains pushed the frontier from the +Mississippi to the coast. It burst through the Rocky Mountain barrier +and opened the gates to the Pacific slope. It gave the nation a rich +territory from which ten states were formed. But the services of +Sacajawea had for many years no lasting commemoration. Shortly after +the adventure in the boat the leaders did indeed name a river for the +Bird-woman, one of the branches of the Musselshell in central Montana, +but the very first settlers changed it from Sacajawea to Crooked Creek +and so it is called to-day. In very recent times the Geological Survey +named for her the great peak in the Bridger range overlooking the spot +where she was captured, and where she pointed out the pass over the +mountains—a route chosen years later by the engineers of the Northern +Pacific Railroad. This place was also marked with a boulder and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> tablet +by the Montana chapter of the Daughters of the Revolution.</p> + +<p>That is all that remains of Sacajawea—a peak bearing her name, and her +story. A century after her long journey the women of Oregon erected, +in the center of the great exposition court at Portland, a bronze +statue of the noble Indian girl whose faithful service as a guide made +possible the success of the Lewis and Clark Expedition.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br> +DOLLY MADISON<br> +1772-1836</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Dolly Payne was a Virginian, though she was born while her parents +were on a visit in North Carolina. She lived on a great plantation +where she had wide fields to play in, and a devoted black mammy to look +after her. Both her mother and grandmother were noted belles and Dolly, +who was named for her second cousin, Mrs. Patrick Henry, evidently +inherited their beauty, for as a very little girl, going to school, she +wore a wide-brimmed sunbonnet and long mitts, to shield her face and +arms from the sun.</p> + +<p>Dolly remembered how her father, in spite of the fact that they were +Quakers, had buckled on his sword and ridden away to be a captain in +the Revolutionary army, and how when the war was over, he came home +again to join in the neighborhood’s thanksgiving for America.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span></p> + +<p>Soon after the war, when Dolly was fourteen years old, he freed his +slaves, sold the plantation, and moved north to the city of brotherly +love that he might be among Quakers. It was then the largest town in +the nation, with a reputation for being very rich and gay. But the +Paynes maintained a strict Quaker standard of simplicity.</p> + +<p>Dorothy was a pretty girl, demure in her gray dress, but with bright +Irish-blue eyes, long lashes, curling black hair and soft warm-hued +skin. She had a particularly gay and joyous disposition, but was +forbidden such pleasures as dancing and music. She went to the +Friends’ meeting-house where the men and boys in their black coats and +broad-brimmed hats sat on one side of the room, the women and girls in +their mouse-colored bonnets and drab gowns on the other.</p> + +<p>Dolly’s father had done very well on the southern plantation, but when +he went into business in Philadelphia he found many troubles. Living +cost much more than in Virginia, a good deal of his property had been +lost through the war and he failed, then ill health added its burden. +A<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> rich young Quaker lawyer named John Todd helped and advised him. He +had fallen in love with Dolly, and though she meant never to marry, she +consented, to please her father who had only a few months more to live.</p> + +<p>On two successive Sundays she went through the embarrassing Quaker +ceremony of rising in meeting and saying she proposed taking John Todd +in marriage; and standing up before the congregation, they were married +in the somber bare-walled meeting-house. Mistress Todd lived for three +years the life of a Quaker lady, and a devoted wife she was to her +young husband. She always wore a cap of tulle, a gray gown, with a lace +kerchief over her shoulders and a large brooch fastening it—no other +ornaments. Except for her beauty she was like a hundred other young +Quaker women in the city of brotherly love.</p> + +<p>In August of 1793 an epidemic of yellow fever broke out in +Philadelphia. Todd sent his wife and their two little children to a +summer resort on the river, where many of their friends took refuge. +He stayed in the city to care for his father and mother but they died +of the plague.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> Already ill himself he joined his family, only to +give them the dread disease, he and the baby dying shortly after his +arrival. Dolly too was stricken with the fever, but recovered.</p> + +<p>At first she was bowed down by her great loss. But Philadelphia was +gay and gradually Mistress Todd began going about again, far more +freely than in the days of her sober girlhood. She found herself really +enjoying society and all the pleasures of the city. From a shy girl she +developed into a most attractive woman. With her youth and her riches, +it is no wonder that she became the object of much attention. Gentlemen +would station themselves to see her pass, and her friends would say, +“Really, Dolly, thou must hide thy face. There are so many staring at +thee!”</p> + +<p>Among her many admirers was Aaron Burr, then a United States senator. +For Philadelphia, you remember, was the capital of the newly organized +government, and the leading men of the time lived in the city. One day +he asked her if he might bring a friend to call, for the “great little +Madison,” as his colleagues called him, had requested<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> the honor of +being presented. So the handsome Colonel Burr introduced Mr. James +Madison, a little man dressed all in black, except for his ruffled +shirt and silver buckles. Dolly wore a mulberry satin gown with silk +tulle about her neck and a dainty lace cap on her head, her curly hair +showing underneath. The scholarly Madison, who was twenty years older +than she, was captivated by the pretty widow, sparkling with fun and +wit, and soon offered himself as a husband, and was accepted.</p> + +<p>The President and Mrs. Washington were much pleased when they heard of +the engagement. Sending for Dolly Mrs. Washington asked her if the news +was true.</p> + +<p>“No, I think not,” said Mistress Todd.</p> + +<p>“Be not ashamed to confess it, if it is so. He will make thee a good +husband and all the better for being so much older. We both approve +of it. The esteem and friendship existing between Mr. Madison and my +husband is very great, and we would wish you two to be happy.”</p> + +<p>Happy they were, during the week’s journey when they drove down to +Virginia, to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> married at the home of Dolly’s sister; and during the +merrymaking following the wedding which lavish southern hospitality, +with, a ball and feast after the ceremony, made quite different from +her first marriage. The quiet reserved Madison let the girls cut off +bits of his Mechlin lace ruffles as keepsakes. And happy they were +together for more than forty years.</p> + +<p>They lived only a short time at Montpelier, Madison’s home in the Blue +Ridge country, for public affairs soon took them back to Philadelphia +and then to Washington. At her husband’s request Dolly laid aside her +Quaker dress, entered society and entertained frequently. Her sweet +manners, her tact and kindness of heart, made her friends everywhere. +At that time party spirit ran high and political differences caused +great bitterness, but all animosities seemed forgotten in Mrs. +Madison’s presence. She slighted no one, hurt no one’s feelings, and +often made foes into friends. Perhaps her influence had almost as much +to do with Madison’s prominence in national affairs as did his own +unquestioned ability; for her sound common sense and exceptionally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> +good judgment often helped him in deciding public questions.</p> + +<p>When Jefferson was elected president he made Madison his secretary of +state. And since Jefferson was a widower and needed a lady to preside +at the White House, he often called upon Mrs. Madison for this service. +Then Madison succeeded Jefferson and Dolly became in name what she had +been in effect, the first lady of the land. Thus for sixteen years she +was hostess for the nation, and a famous hostess she was indeed.</p> + +<p>“Every one loves Mrs. Madison,” said Henry Clay, voicing the common +sentiment.</p> + +<p>“And Mrs. Madison loves everybody,” was her quick response.</p> + +<p>The president used to say that when he was tired out from matters of +state a visit to her sitting-room, where he was sure of a bright story +and a hearty laugh, was as refreshing as a long walk in the open air.</p> + +<p>But even with such a mistress of the White House the affairs of the +nation did not remain tranquil. Trouble with England, which had long +been brewing, came to a crisis and war was declared<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> in 1812. As most +of the fighting was at sea, life at Washington went on undisturbed +until August of 1814, when the British landed five thousand men near +the capital and marched to attack it. The town was in a panic when the +messenger rode in at full speed, announcing fifty ships anchoring in +the Potomac.</p> + +<p>“Have you the courage to stay here till I come back, to-morrow or next +day?” asked the president.</p> + +<p>And Dolly Madison replied, “I am not afraid of anything, if only you +are not harmed and our army triumphs.”</p> + +<p>“Good-by then, and if anything happens, look out for the state papers,” +said Madison, and rode away to the point where the citizen-soldiers +were gathering.</p> + +<p>Many Washington people began carrying their property off to the +country, but the brave woman at the White House did not run away. At +last there came a penciled note from the president:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Enemy stronger than we heard at first. They may reach the city and +destroy it. Be ready to leave at a moment’s warning.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p> + +<p>Most of Mrs. Madison’s friends were already gone, even the soldiers +who had been left to guard the executive mansion. Not a wagon could be +secured. “Bring me as many trunks as my carriage will hold,” ordered +Dolly Madison and set to work packing them with the nation’s most +valuable papers. Night came but the lady of the White House worked on. +At dawn she began searching through her spyglass, hoping to catch a +glimpse of her husband. All she could see was here and there a group of +soldiers wandering about, men sleeping in the fields, frightened women +and children hurrying to the bridge over the Potomac. She could hear +the roar of cannon, the battle was going on only six miles away; still +the president did not come.</p> + +<p>One of the servants, French John, offered to spike the cannon at the +gate and lay a train of powder that would blow up the British if they +entered the house. But to this Mrs. Madison objected, though she could +not make John understand why in war every advantage might not be taken.</p> + +<p>About three o’clock in the afternoon two men<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> covered with dust +galloped up and cried, “Fly, fly! The house will be burned over your +head!”</p> + +<p>Some good friends had succeeded in getting a wagon and Mrs. Madison +filled it with the White House silver.</p> + +<p>“To the bank of Maryland,” she ordered, and added to herself, “or the +hands of the British—which will it be?”</p> + +<p>Two friends came in to urge haste, reminding her that the English +admiral, Cockburn, had taken an oath that he would sit in her +drawing-room and that other officers had boasted they would take the +president and his wife both prisoner and carry them to London to make a +show of them. They were just ready to lift her into the carriage when +Dolly stopped.</p> + +<p>“Not yet—the portrait of Washington—it shall never fall into the +hands of the enemy. That must be taken away before I leave the house.”</p> + +<p>The famous painting by Gilbert Stuart was in a heavy frame, screwed to +the wall in the state dining-room, but in that frantic hurry there were +no tools at hand to remove it.</p> + +<p>“Get an axe and break the frame,” commanded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> Dolly Madison. She watched +the canvas taken from the stretcher, saw it rolled up carefully, and +sent to a place of safety. Later it was returned to her, and to-day +hangs over the mantel in the red room of the White House.</p> + +<p>One more delay—the Declaration of Independence was kept in a glass +case, separate from the other state papers. Notwithstanding all the +protests of her friends, Dolly Madison ran back into the house, +broke the glass, secured the Declaration with the autographs of the +signers, got into her carriage and drove rapidly away to a house beyond +Georgetown.</p> + +<p>None too soon did she leave. The sound of approaching troops was heard. +The British were upon the city. They broke into the executive mansion, +ransacked it, had dinner there in the state dining-room, stole what +they could carry, and then set fire to the building.</p> + +<p>Instead of sleeping that night, Dolly Madison, with thousands of +others, watched the fire destroying the capital, while the wind from an +approaching storm fanned the flames. Before daybreak she set out for a +little tavern, sixteen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> miles away, where her husband had arranged to +meet her. The roads were filled with frightened people, while fleeing +soldiers spread the wildest rumors of the enemy’s advance.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the inn finally in the height of the storm, the woman in +charge refused to take her in, saying, “My man had to go to fight; your +husband brought on this war and his wife shall have no shelter in my +house!”</p> + +<p>The tavern was thronged with women and children, refugees from the +city, who finally prevailed on the woman to let Mrs. Madison enter. The +president arrived later, but before he had rested an hour a messenger +came crying, “The British know you are here—fly!”</p> + +<p>Dolly Madison begged him to go to a little hut in the woods where he +would be safe, and promised that she would leave in disguise and find +a refuge farther away. In the gray of the morning she started, but +soon came the good news that the English, hearing reinforcements were +coming, had gone back to their ships. At once she turned and drove +toward the city. The bridge over the Potomac was afire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> + +<p>“Will you row me across?” she asked an American officer.</p> + +<p>“No, we don’t let strange women into the city.”</p> + +<p>In vain she pleaded. He was firm. “We have spies enough here. How do +I know but the British have sent you to burn what they have left? You +will not cross the river, that is sure.”</p> + +<p>“But I am Mrs. Madison, the wife of your president,” she answered, +throwing off her disguise. Then he rowed her across the Potomac. +Through clouds of smoke, past heaps of still smoldering ruins, she made +her way to the home of her sister, and waited there for Mr. Madison to +return.</p> + +<p>While the White House was being rebuilt the Madisons lived in +Pennsylvania Avenue, and a brilliant social life centered about them. +They revived the levees of Washington and Adams, gave handsome state +dinners and introduced music at their receptions.</p> + +<p>When Madison’s second term was ended they went to live at Montpelier, +their beautiful Virginia home, where they entertained with true +southern hospitality the many friends and tourists<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> who visited them. +Mr. Madison, for many years an invalid, busied himself with books and +writing.</p> + +<p>Soon after his death in 1836 Dolly returned to Washington, to be near +her old friends. Her home again became a social center, for her tact +and beauty and grace made her always a favorite and a leader. She +entertained many distinguished guests, “looking every inch a queen,” +the British ambassador declared. Sometimes there were as many visitors +at her receptions as at those at the White House. All the homage of +former times was hers, and much consideration was shown her by public +officials, Congress voting her a seat on the floor of the House.</p> + +<p>Brought up in strict Quaker ways, she adorned every station in life +in which she was placed. And in a crisis when the White House was in +danger, Dolly Madison was courageous enough to delay her departure +till she had saved the Stuart Washington and the Declaration of +Independence.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br> +LUCRETIA MOTT<br> +1793-1880</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Lucretia Coffin was a Quaker, born on the quaint little island of +Nantucket. Her father “followed the sea,” captain of a whaler, and +was often gone for long periods of time. So it was the mother who was +responsible for the early training of the six children. Thrift and +efficient housekeeping Lucretia learned, along with the Quaker doctrine +of non-resistance, and a thorough knowledge of the Bible.</p> + +<p>When she was twelve, Captain Coffin forsook the sea and moved his +family to Boston. Public schools there gave Lucretia a feeling of +sympathy for the patient struggling poor which was always a prominent +trait in her character.</p> + +<p>Later she was sent to a Friends’ boarding-school at Nine Partners, New +York, and stayed for two years, with no holidays and no vacation. A +strict school it was, for though both boys and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> girls were the pupils, +they were not allowed to speak to each other unless they were near +relatives in which case they might talk on certain days over the fence +that separated their playgrounds. Punishment Lucretia Coffin could bear +herself far more easily than she could see some one else endure it; +when for some trifling misdemeanor, a little boy, a cousin of James +Mott, one of the teachers, was locked up in a dark closet and given +only bread and water, Lucretia managed to slip into the forbidden side +of the house and supply him with more substantial food.</p> + +<p>One of the instructors left the school, and fifteen-year-old Lucretia +became an assistant teacher, working with her classes in the daytime, +and with her books by the light of a solitary candle far into the +night. A year later she was made a regular teacher, with a salary of a +hundred dollars, her living and tuition for one of her little sisters.</p> + +<p>The two young pedagogues, James Mott and Lucretia Coffin, found that +they had many ideas in common—ability, and a desire for knowledge and +a wider culture—so they formed a French<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> class and had lessons for six +weeks. Such good friends they became that when she was eighteen and he +a few years older, they became engaged and were married and settled +in Philadelphia. He was quiet, reserved, serious; she bright, active, +very pretty. And after they had worked together for a great cause, they +loved each other more deeply than ever.</p> + +<p>As a very young girl Lucretia Mott had been interested in slavery. +Her sympathy had first been enlisted from reading in her schoolbooks +Clarkson’s vivid picture of the slave ships. Many years later she +repeated word for word a description of the horrors of the “middle +passage,” which she had memorized from a reader. In 1818 on a journey +to Virginia, she had a first affecting glimpse of the slaves themselves.</p> + +<p>This trip to the South was for the purpose of holding religious +meetings, for early that year Lucretia Mott discovered her great +gift—public speaking. Among the Friends it was no uncommon thing for +women to take part in meeting, and Mrs. Mott soon became one of their +favorite preachers. She had a real power over her audiences—her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> +slight figure, her delicate, charming face in the Quaker bonnet, at +once strong and tender, her sweetness of voice added to the convincing +earnestness of her manner.</p> + +<p>People of all denominations went miles to hear her. Soon she began +traveling around the country, speaking in Quaker meeting-houses, +telling her listeners of the peace-loving principles of the Friends, +pointing out the evils of injustice in any form, and always, in +season and out of season, emphasizing the sin of slavery. Long before +Lundy and Garrison began their newspapers, long before Garrison and +Wendell Phillips were thundering against slavery and urging immediate +emancipation, this small sweet-faced Friend, mild and gentle in nature, +was blazing the way for the anti-slavery movement, a pioneer among the +advocates for freedom.</p> + +<p>Through New York State, into New England and across to Nantucket, +as far south as Virginia, west to Ohio and Indiana, she traveled by +stage-coach or boat or carriage. Speaking at seventy-one meetings +in a ten weeks’ trip seems to have been no unusual record for her. +She always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> wore a simple, dove-colored dress, with a crossed muslin +kerchief at the neck, and a prim little cap. But the secret of her +magnetic personality was that she spoke because she was conscious of a +power impelling her to do so. Words came to her, as tears come, without +will of her own, because her heart was full and she couldn’t help +it. Though the leading abolitionists were often described as raving +fanatics, Lucretia Mott was noted for her unfailing composure, her +calm tone of profound faith, her lack of vehement accents and violent +gestures.</p> + +<p>“Notice was given here for a religious meeting,” said the distressed +elders in one western town that bordered on a slave state. “We do hope, +Mrs. Mott, you will not name slavery, or allude to it this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Why,” was her answer, “that is eminently a religious subject. I should +consider myself disobedient to the voice of God in my soul if I did not +speak against it.”</p> + +<p>Her audience there was so large that many had to stand. Ordinarily they +would have become restless. For an hour and a half she held them,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> +closely attentive, and though she said some things far from palatable +to that prejudiced, excited, border section, her sincerity commanded +their respect and they crowded the hall again that evening to hear her +speak.</p> + +<p>Gradually the opposition to slavery, which she had been fostering, +won adherents to its cause. The Garrison campaign began. Friends of +freedom came out openly and spoke their views. In 1833 a national +anti-slavery society was formed in Philadelphia. Of the sixty or +seventy delegates, four were women, Lucretia Mott among them. They were +present by invitation, as listeners only. But during the discussion of +the proposed constitution, when one of the women briefly, modestly, +suggested transposing certain sentences, to put first the reference +to the Declaration of Independence, the men were so impressed that +they made the change immediately. But more than this Mrs. Mott, a +listener, accomplished. Her encouragement strengthened and confirmed +their purpose at a critical moment when some overcautious souls urged a +policy of delay.</p> + +<p>The following year the Female Anti-slavery<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> Society was formed, the +majority of its members Friends, and Lucretia Mott served as president +during most of its existence. For women to have an association of +their own was almost unheard of, in the eighteen thirties. They had no +idea of the meaning of preambles, resolutions and voting; and later +they confessed with amusement that they had to invite a colored man to +preside at their first meeting, to get them started.</p> + +<p>In 1840 came a world’s anti-slavery convention in London, and Lucretia +Mott was one of the delegates from the United States. Full of +enthusiasm the first group arrived, only to find that women were not to +be recognized. The doors were shut against them, because of the old, +old prejudice—women should stay at home and be entertaining, public +affairs would rob them of their sweetest charm.</p> + +<p>Wendell Phillips protested and moved that the ladies be admitted. The +excited discussion lasted for several hours, but when the vote was +taken the majority against the resolution was overwhelming. So in +the gallery sat Lucretia Mott, with Harriet Martineau, Mrs. Wendell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> +Phillips, and other women delegates, and their recruit, Elizabeth Cady +Stanton.</p> + +<p>Arriving some days later, Garrison felt so outraged at this treatment +of his co-workers that he refused to take his seat in the convention. +With two other masculine members from the American Society he sat +up-stairs with the ladies. The British were scandalized—what sort +of world’s convention was this, with the founder of the greatest +anti-slavery movement of the century debarred from taking his seat on +the floor? They sent him a special invitation, but Garrison was firm. +He remembered that Lucretia Mott had been the first to shake his hand +when he came out of prison!</p> + +<p>But before the meetings were over a tea was given with more than +four hundred guests; and there, much to the men’s consternation, +Lucretia Mott spoke. With a dignity that carried great force, with +real eloquence, she chose this way of addressing the convention. The +delegates found themselves listening with pleasure and admiration, and +broke into applause.</p> + +<p>While they were in London, Lucretia Mott had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> a call from Clarkson, the +English abolitionist, then an old, old man of eighty-one, almost blind, +and they had a long talk together.</p> + +<p>It is difficult for people of to-day to appreciate what peril and +reproach it meant to take a stand against slavery. Individuals who +dared to do so had to face private detraction and public abuse, +sometimes actual physical violence. On the side of slavery was +ranged all the power of trade and politics, of church and state, of +respectability and riot. This opposition became more and more bitter, +more and more popular, more and more widely spread. In equal or greater +ratio the earnestness and zeal of the anti-slavery group increased. +They were held up to odium and ridicule, for the spirit of persecution +was abroad. Lucretia Mott’s old friends scorned her and laughed at her. +They passed her on the street without speaking.</p> + +<p>“But,” said she, “misrepresentation and ridicule and abuse heaped on +these reforms do not in the least deter me from my duty.”</p> + +<p>Mobs of men and women would assemble outside the halls where +anti-slavery meetings were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> being held. They stoned the windows, they +broke in, leaped on the platform, and shouted so loudly that the +speaker’s voice was lost in the noise. Pennsylvania Hall, dedicated +to “liberty and the rights of man,” was surrounded by a crowd while +Lucretia Mott was addressing an audience of Philadelphia women, and +brickbats were hurled through the windows. The next day, shortly after +the meeting had adjourned, the mob set the hall on fire, then marched +through the streets, threatening an attack on the Motts’ house. The +children were sent away to a place of safety, and the little Quaker +lady, with her husband and a few friends, sat quietly waiting for the +crowd to come. But their fury was turned against another part of the +city and the Motts were safe for that night.</p> + +<p>Shortly afterward they were sitting in the parlor one evening when they +heard confused noises and cries that came nearer and nearer—an angry +rumble hard to describe, but all too familiar to the experienced ears +of negroes and abolitionists. In the crowd was a young man who knew the +Quaker family. “On to the Motts’!” he cried,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> and purposely ran up the +wrong street, making several quick turnings. The rioters followed him +blindly until he slipped away from them, and a second time the Motts +were saved from violence.</p> + +<p>In New York City an anti-slavery meeting was broken up by the crowd +and Garrison and other speakers roughly handled. Lucretia Mott, whose +fears and thoughts were never for herself, always unshrinking and +self-possessed in the stormiest scenes, noticed that some of the women +looked timid.</p> + +<p>“Won’t thee look after the others?” she asked the gentleman who +accompanied her.</p> + +<p>“Then who will take care of you?”</p> + +<p>“This man will see me through,” she said, putting her hand on the arm +of a big ruffian in a red shirt. Roused by this unexpected appeal to +his chivalry he made way for her through the crowd and escorted her +safely to the house where she was staying.</p> + +<p>The next day in a restaurant near the hall, she recognized him and +sitting down at his table began talking with him. When he left he asked:</p> + +<p>“Who is that lady?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p> + +<p>“Lucretia Mott.”</p> + +<p>Dumfounded for a moment he shook his head and then said, “Well, she’s a +good sensible woman!”</p> + +<p>In her own home Lucretia Mott sheltered fugitive slaves, till it became +widely known as a place of refuge. Many a poor negro she helped on his +way to Canada, by the Underground Railroad. In the entrance hall of +the Mott house there stood two roomy armchairs which the family called +“the beggars’ chairs,” for there applicants, rich and poor, known and +unknown, black and white, waited to see Mrs. Mott.</p> + +<p>Almost incredible was the opposition she met. Even the gentle Quakers +reproached her for “lugging in” slavery at their meetings. Many of +them wished she would resign. A minority wanted to disown her. They +refused the use of their meeting-houses for abolition lectures. When +she was speaking away from Philadelphia they allowed her to stay at +country taverns, instead of inviting her to their homes—a great breach +of hospitality. They discussed taking away her “approved minister’s +minute,” which introduced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> her to Quaker communities. But in justice +to herself, and because she loved the society and its traditions and +desired to remain a Friend, she was so careful that they could bring no +case against her.</p> + +<p>Never did she compromise her principles. Never did she ask for police +protection, though the mob clamored and howled around the building. +And never did she meet bodily harm. She lived the Quaker doctrine +of non-resistance, and did not believe in repelling violence with +violence. Holding that slavery was wrong, the Motts decided to use +nothing made with slave labor. That meant giving up sugar and candy +and cotton cloth. Most of all, it meant giving up the cotton goods +commission business in which for the first time James Mott was finding +it possible to make a comfortable living. Yet unflinchingly they +sacrificed material prosperity for the spiritual gain. Mrs. Mott opened +a school and they managed to get along until a new business could be +established.</p> + +<p>After the Civil War colored people were not allowed to ride in the +Philadelphia street-cars except in certain ones reserved for them. +One<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> rainy day Lucretia Mott saw a negress, evidently in poor health, +standing on the platform in a cold drizzle. She asked the conductor +to let her enter the car, but he refused. Immediately Mrs. Mott went +outside and stood by the woman. The famous Mrs. Mott, seventy years +old, riding in the rain on the platform of his car? That would never +do! The conductor begged her to come in.</p> + +<p>“Not without this woman—I can not!” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, bring her in then,” he said. And soon the company changed +the rule discriminating against colored passengers.</p> + +<p>After the fugitive slave law was passed in 1850 many exciting cases +came up in Philadelphia. Perhaps the most famous was the trial of a +negro named Daniel Webster Dangerfield, who was arrested, charged with +being a fugitive slave. The alleged master engaged a famous lawyer +who was later attorney-general of the United States. The trial lasted +all one day, into the night and the next day; all that time Lucretia +Mott with her knitting sat in the crowded room beside the poor ragged +prisoner, like a guardian spirit. The opposing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> counsel asked that her +chair be moved, fearing that her face would influence the jury!</p> + +<p>In the court the negro won; but outside a rabble surged up and down, +threatening to give him over to his Maryland master, while inside a +group of young Quakers was equally determined that he should keep his +hard-won freedom. Another colored man, resembling him, was driven +away from the court-house in the carriage, while Dangerfield walked a +few squares with some of his friends, then was sent eight miles to an +unsuspected station of the Underground Railroad, and in a few days was +safe in Canada.</p> + +<p>“I have heard a great deal of Mrs. Mott,” said the opposing lawyer at +the conclusion of the trial, “but never saw her before to-day. She is +an angel!”</p> + +<p>Soon after he joined the party of freedom. Asked how he dared to +make the change, with so many interests arrayed on the other side, +his answer was, “Do you think there is anything I dare not do, after +sitting in that court room facing Lucretia Mott?”</p> + +<p>With all her public work this gentle Friend was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> first of all a womanly +woman, a fine housekeeper, a splendid mother, a devoted wife. Her +letters speak constantly of the varied activities of her hands—of +doing the family ironing, making mince meat for forty pies, sewing +and putting down carpets, knitting, and making carpet-rags and the +children’s clothes. She was herself the best answer to the argument +that public affairs must necessarily take a woman’s attention from her +household.</p> + +<p>For years the abolitionists felt their cause hopeless. The very utmost +they could do would be a lifelong protest against slavery. But Lucretia +Mott lived to see freedom for the negroes an accomplished fact. Nor did +she confine her work to this one cause. She was as firm an advocate +of woman’s equality with man, an able speaker for woman’s rights in +that early day when the subject met only ridicule and abuse. She used +her eloquence for temperance, for the advancement of the freedmen, for +peace through arbitration.</p> + +<p>Instead of averted faces and open condemnation, in her last years +she met everywhere with tenderness and veneration. And her face was +like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> that of a transfigured saint, for she was without jealousy or +bitterness, free from malice, incapable of hate. She was a preacher, a +reformer, a woman commanding our admiration.</p> + +<p>Exactly how much she did for abolition in that half-century of +agitation and reform can not be measured accurately. She planted the +seed and encouraged others. As famous and as much abused as Garrison, +as popular a speaker as Phillips, she antedated them both. She was a +veritable pioneer in the great movement that culminated in Lincoln’s +Emancipation Proclamation.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br> +HARRIET BEECHER STOWE<br> +1811-1896</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The Beechers came to America in 1638 and were leaders in the New Haven +colony. Almost two centuries later the most celebrated member of this +family was born in the old parsonage in the beautiful Connecticut +hilltown of Litchfield. The father of this little girl, Lyman Beecher, +was preaching earnest sermons, on the munificent salary of five hundred +a year. To add to their income the mother, a beautiful and gifted +woman, opened a school, though she had eight children of her own to +care for. All of them grew up to be distinguished, especially the two +youngest, Harriet and Henry Ward, who were inseparable companions.</p> + +<p>Harriet had a remarkable memory and read all the books she could find. +But most of her father’s library was sermons and church pamphlets, +appeals and replies and theological discussions;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> so you can imagine +her delight when at the bottom of a garret barrel of musty sermons +and essays she discovered <i>The Arabian Nights</i>, and delicious +fragments of <i>The Tempest</i> and <i>Don Quixote</i>. Her father had +said his children were not to read novels, but made an exception of +<i>Ivanhoe</i>. The delighted Harriet and her brother George read it +through seven times in six months, until indeed they could recite many +scenes by heart.</p> + +<p>The Beecher children were wide-awake, bright, happy youngsters, a big +family of them, partly educated by running wild on the long breezy +hills. Until she was eleven Harriet went to a “dame school” and to the +Litchfield Academy, showing her future bent by thoroughly enjoying, +instead of dreading, the task of composition writing. Sir Walter Scott +helped form her style. She read and re-read her few books until words +and sentences were fixed in her mind.</p> + +<p>At one of the school exhibitions when compositions were read, Doctor +Beecher, listening idly, suddenly brightened and looked up.</p> + +<p>“Who wrote that?” he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span></p> + +<p>“Your daughter, sir,” replied the teacher.</p> + +<p>“That,” said Harriet years later, when she knew something of fame, “was +the proudest moment of my life.”</p> + +<p>The older sister Catherine had opened a school for girls at Hartford, +and twelve-year-old Harriet went there, first as a pupil, then as +teacher. Indeed she was for a time both, and crowded days she had. In +this double race for development her brain wearied out her body. The +memory of those overworked days lingered with her all her life. Healthy +and hearty as a little child, she was allowed to think and feel and +study too much. Consequently as a woman she was far from vigorous, +finding her lack of strength a continual drawback to her work.</p> + +<p>Her father had been preaching for six years in Boston and was now +offered the presidency of Lane Seminary, to be opened in Cincinnati. +Catherine was to start a school for girls, with Harriet as her +assistant. The whole family made the toilsome adventurous journey +across the mountains by stage-coach, to what was then considered the +Far West.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> + +<p>In addition to her work in the school Harriet wrote short essays and +sketches for publication, giving them away at first. But when the +<i>Western Magazine</i> offered a prize of fifty dollars for a story +and she won it, she began to think of writing as a possible means of +livelihood.</p> + +<p>In 1836 she married Calvin Stowe, a professor in the seminary. They +were far from wealthy, at times even poor, for Professor Stowe, rich in +Greek and Latin and Hebrew and Arabic, was rich in nothing else. Though +she had a household of little children, and often a few boarders, +Harriet continued writing from time to time. Her first check was used +to buy a feather bed. When a new mattress or carpet was needed, or the +year’s accounts wouldn’t balance, she would send off a story, literally +to keep the pot boiling.</p> + +<p>Outwardly their life in Ohio was orderly and quiet, but every month +occurred something stirring, even spectacular. There were fierce +debates on the slavery question among the seminary students. Doctor +Bailey, a Cincinnati editor who started a discussion of the subject in +his paper, twice had his presses broken and thrown into the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> river. +Mrs. Stowe’s brother went about his newspaper work armed. Houses of +colored people were burned and attacked; the shop of an abolitionist +was riddled; free negroes were kidnapped. The Beecher family slept with +weapons at hand, ready to defend the seminary. Many slaves escaping +from Kentucky sought refuge in the town, where the Underground Railroad +helped them to reach Canada and safety.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to live in Cincinnati and not be personally affected. +Servants were hard to secure, especially for a household with slender +means, though colored maids were available. The Stowes had a young +negress from Kentucky who had been brought to Cincinnati by her +mistress and left there. When a man came across the river hunting for +her, meaning to take her back to slavery again, Mr. Stowe and Henry +Ward Beecher drove the poor girl at night, in a severe storm, twelve +miles into the country, where they left her with a friend until search +for her was given over.</p> + +<p>Colored boys and girls came to the classes Mrs. Stowe had for her own +children. One little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> fellow was claimed by his former master, arrested +and put up at auction. The distracted mother begged and pleaded for +help. Harriet Beecher Stowe went out and raised the money to buy the +child and give him back to his mother.</p> + +<p>Pathetic incidents such as these were continually coming to the +attention of the professor’s family. In Cincinnati this New England +woman had a real acquaintance with negroes, and was quick to note +their peculiar characteristics. Unconsciously she was absorbing and +assimilating pictures of slavery which later served a great purpose.</p> + +<p>“What is there here to satisfy one whose mind is awakened on the +subject?” she asked. “No one can have it brought before him without an +irrepressible desire to do something, but what is there to be done?”</p> + +<p>To find this something-to-do gradually became one of her chief +thoughts, even though her domestic cares were almost overwhelming and +her health suffered from the strain. The resources of the family did +not increase. One year she was ill six months out of the twelve, yet +she put up the stiffest kind of fight against the most disheartening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> +odds. Whenever the household was in a comparative calm she would seize +her pen and write some story or sketch. A delicate, highly strung, +little woman, with seven children on her hands, she wrote in the tumult +of the living-room, with babies tumbling about her, with tables being +set and cleared away, with children being washed and dressed, and +everything imaginable in a household going on.</p> + +<p>Doctor Stowe received a call to Bowdoin College, in Brunswick, Maine. +Perhaps the family was glad to leave the excited atmosphere of +Cincinnati where feeling on the slavery question was so inflamed, and +live once more in the calm of New England. Yet for Mrs. Stowe it was +not to remain for long a calm background.</p> + +<p>On the journey north she stopped in Boston at the home of her brother +Edward. The fugitive slave bill was being debated in Congress just at +this time and everywhere the hearts of thinking men were stirred. Her +visit came at the height of the fierce and fiery discussion of the +proposed law which not only gave southern owners the right to pursue +their slaves into free states, but forced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> the North to assist in the +business. Her brother had received and forwarded fugitives many a time. +She heard heartrending accounts of slaves recaptured and dragged back +in irons, of children torn from their mothers and sold south—this +breaking up of families offended her most of all.</p> + +<p>Soon after the Stowes were settled in their Maine home a letter came +from her sister-in-law in Boston.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Hattie, if I could use a pen as you can, I would write something to +make this whole nation feel what an accursed thing slavery is.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Reading this letter aloud to the family, when she came to that sentence +Harriet Beecher Stowe rose, crushed the paper in her hand, and with a +look on her face that her children never forgot, she exclaimed, “I will +write something—if I live, I will!”</p> + +<p>She was forty years old, in delicate health, overladen with +responsibilities; a devoted mother, with small children, one still a +baby; with untrained servants requiring supervision; with her pupils +to be taught daily; and boarders to eke<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> out the limited salary—her +hands were full to overflowing. It seemed unlikely that she would ever +do anything but this ceaseless labor. But her heart burned within her +for those in bondage. The law passed and the fugitives were hunted out +and sent back into servitude and death. The people of the North looked +on indifferently. Could she, a woman with no reputation, waken them by +anything she might write?</p> + +<p>While at a communion service in the little church at Brunswick, like a +vision the death of Uncle Tom on Legree’s plantation came before her. +Scarcely able to control her sobbing, she hurried home, locked herself +in her room, and wrote it out, exactly as it stands now, in a white +heat of passionate enthusiasm. She read it to her two little boys, ten +and twelve years old. Through his sobs one of them said, “Oh, mamma, +slavery is the most cursed thing in the world!”</p> + +<p>Then she wrote the opening chapters and offered the manuscript to +Doctor Bailey who had moved his paper from Cincinnati to Washington. +He accepted it and arranged that it should be printed in weekly +instalments—a dangerous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> method unless the story is completed before +publication begins. With only fragments of her time to write, she sent +off the necessary chapters each week, composed sometimes in pain and +weariness, under almost insurmountable difficulties, seldom revised, +sometimes not even punctuated. But the story was to her so much more +intense a reality than any other earthly thing that the required pages +never failed.</p> + +<p>The subject possessed her. Her whole being was saturated with her +theme. Her hot indignation was welling up, her deep pity was a part +of her inmost soul. Day and night it was there in her mind, waiting +to be written, needing but a few hours to bring it into sentences +and paragraphs. She had been a guest at the Shelby plantation soon +after her arrival in Cincinnati. Now, nearly twenty years later, she +described the details of that visit with minutest fidelity—the humble +cot of the negro, the planter’s mansion, the funny pranks and songs of +the slaves. Eliza’s escape was suggested by the story of one of her own +servants. Uncle Tom’s simple honor and loyalty were characteristics +impressed on her by the husband<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> of a former slave woman for whom she +wrote letters, a man who remained in bondage rather than break his +promise to his master and so win his freedom. Topsy was a child in Mrs. +Stowe’s mission Sunday-school class, who only grinned in bewilderment +when asked, “Have you ever heard anything about God?” When the teacher +asked again, “Do you know who made you?” the answer was, “Nobody as I +knows on,” the eyes twinkling as she added, “I ’spect I growed.” And +Legree’s plantation was pictured to her in a letter from her brother +Charles, who went on a business trip up the Red River to an estate +where the slaves were treated with a brutality almost indescribable. +Her own experiences thus gave the personal touch that fires knowledge +into passion.</p> + +<p>“My heart was bursting with the anguish excited by the cruelty and +injustice our nation was showing to the slave, and praying God to let +me do a little, and to cause my cry for them to be heard. Weeping many +a time as I thought of the slave mothers whose babes were torn from +them, I put my lifeblood, my prayers, my tears, into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> the book,” was +her own graphic description of its making.</p> + +<p>The story was not so much composed by her as imposed upon her. Scenes +and conversations and incidents rushed on her with a vividness and +importunity admitting of no denial. She had no choice in the matter, +the book insisted on getting itself into shape and could not be +withstood.</p> + +<p>Years afterward an old sea captain asked to shake hands with the author +of <i>Uncle Tom’s Cabin</i>.</p> + +<p>“I did not write it,” said the white-haired lady gently.</p> + +<p>“You didn’t?” he ejaculated in great surprise. “Why, who did, then?”</p> + +<p>“God wrote it,” she replied simply, “I merely did His dictation.”</p> + +<p>“Amen,” said the captain reverently, and walked thoughtfully away.</p> + +<p>The serial ran in the <i>New Era</i> from June of 1851 to the following +April. When it was nearing completion a firm in Boston offered to print +it in book form, but feared failure if it was much longer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p> + +<p>“I can not stop,” was her answer, “until it is done.”</p> + +<p>Henry Ward Beecher told his sister his plans to work against slavery in +Plymouth church.</p> + +<p>“I too have begun to do something,” was her reply; “I have begun a +story trying to set forth the sufferings and wrongs of the slaves.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right, Hattie. Finish it and I’ll scatter it thick as the +leaves of Vallombrosa.”</p> + +<p>But there was small need for his endorsement. It was soon published +as a book. Would anybody read it, she asked herself doubtfully; +the subject was so unpopular. She would help it make its way, if +possible, and sent a copy to Queen Victoria, knowing how deeply she was +interested in the abolition of slavery. Then this busy woman waited in +the quiet Maine home to see what the world would say.</p> + +<p>The first day three thousand copies were sold, ten thousand in ten +days, over three hundred thousand the first year. The magazine had +paid her three hundred dollars for the manuscript; the check for +her first month’s royalty was ten thousand dollars, when Professor +Stowe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> had hoped the proceeds would buy her a new silk dress. There +were translations into twenty different languages, forty editions in +England, while the publishers lost count of the number in America. How +restful for the tired overworked woman to have more than enough for her +daily needs, to be free from the anxieties of poverty!</p> + +<p>“Having been poor all my life,” she said, “and expecting to be poor for +the rest of it, the idea of making money by a book which I wrote just +because I couldn’t help it, never occurred to me.”</p> + +<p>Written with a purpose, a great underlying principle, <i>Uncle Tom’s +Cabin</i> is distinctly the work of a woman’s heart, not of her head. +And this explains the book’s merits as well as its literary defects.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“But if critics find unskilful treatment,” wrote George Sand, “look +well at them and see if their eyes are dry when they are reading this +or that chapter. The life and death of a little child and of a negro +slave—that is the whole book. The affection that unites them is the +only love story.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Yet this book met with a success that reads like a fairy tale. It was +dramatized immediately, six London theaters playing it at the same +time.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> Learned reviews printed long notices of it, leading writers +in America and England added their critical appreciation. Even those +rating it low as a work of art called it a true picture of slavery. +The common people accepted it eagerly, making it the most widely read +book of modern times. It was one of the greatest triumphs in literary +history, to say nothing of the higher moral triumph.</p> + +<p>Its effect on the public was electric. The air, already charged with +feeling, was ready to become impassioned. After its reading the +Missouri Compromise was felt to be monstrous and impossible, enforcing +the fugitive slave law absolutely out of the question. Throughout the +North the book was received with acclamations. All classes, rich and +poor, young and old, religious and irreligious, read it. No one who +began it could remain unchanged. Echoes of sympathy came to the author +from all parts of the land; the indignation, pity and distress which +had long weighed on her soul seemed to pass from her to the readers of +the book.</p> + +<p>Some of the slaveholders Mrs. Stowe pictured as amiable, generous, +just, with beautiful traits of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> character. She admitted fully their +temptations, their perplexities, their difficulties. She thought the +abolitionists would say, “Too mild altogether!” But the entire South +rose against the book, in a hurricane of denial and abuse. The daily +papers featured column after column of minute criticism which seemed to +leave the book in tatters—its facts were false, its art contemptible, +its moral tone slanderous and anti-Christian. Thousands of angry and +abusive letters poured in on the author.</p> + +<p>“<i>Uncle Tom’s Cabin</i> met with such a universal praising,” she said +to one of her brothers, “that I began to think, ‘Woe unto you when all +men speak well of you!’ But I have been relieved of my fears on that +score. If there is any blessing in all manner of evil said falsely +against one, I am likely to have it.”</p> + +<p>In the North a large element condemned the book no less severely—those +who thought slavery just, who feared civil strife, who opposed +abolition. But it was encouraging at least in this respect: The subject +of slavery was now fairly up for inquiry before the public mind. The +systematic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> efforts which had been made for years to prevent its being +discussed were proving ineffectual. And on the whole the North accepted +the story as a fair indictment of the national sin and as a sermon to +them on their part in it.</p> + +<p>For the moral sense of the people was awakened. The men who had viewed +the subject with indifference became haters of the system. The sleepy +church which had lagged behind in the rear of progress was stirred as +if by a blast from the last trumpet. Politicians in Congress trembled, +statesmen scented danger near. The unpopular reformers who had taken +their lives in their hands, found their ranks reinforced by sturdy +enthusiastic recruits. The story told the same appalling facts they +had been stating in their meetings and printing in their papers, but +the people would neither listen nor read. But Uncle Tom spoke with +authority, and not as the scribes.</p> + +<p>The marvel of its time, the wonder of succeeding generations of +readers, this book was the beginning of the end of slavery. No other +individual contributed so much to its downfall—Whittier’s fiery +lyrics, Sumner’s speeches, Phillips’ eloquence,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> the sermons of Parker +and the Beechers, all fell short of the accomplishment of Harriet +Beecher Stowe. She now found herself the most famous woman in the +world. When she went to Washington, after the Civil War had begun, +Abraham Lincoln on being introduced to her asked, “What! are you the +little woman that caused this great war?” and then took her off to a +deep window-seat for an hour’s talk.</p> + +<p>Invited to England, Mrs. Stowe found her journey there almost a royal +progress. People stood at their doors to see her pass by. Children ran +ahead of the carriage and offered her flowers. “That’s her,” cried +out the newsboys on the street, “d’ye see the courls?” A national +penny offering, coming from all classes of society, was turned into a +thousand golden sovereigns and presented to her, to be used for the +cause of the slave. There were many addresses and public meetings and +demonstrations of sympathy, and from the people a perfect ovation. The +great of the court, of literary England, anti-slavery leaders, united +to pay her homage.</p> + +<p>One of her gifts she brought back to America,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> in order to complete +its record. The Duchess of Sutherland gave her a gold bracelet in +the form of a slave’s shackles, inscribed “We trust it is a memorial +of a chain that is soon to be broken.” Its links bore the dates for +the abolition of the slave trade and of slavery itself in England +and her possessions. Later Mrs. Stowe had other links marked for +the ending of slavery in the District of Columbia, the Emancipation +Proclamation, and the constitutional amendment abolishing slavery in +this country—changes due largely to her work, two of these events +coming within a decade after <i>Uncle Tom’s Cabin</i> was published.</p> + +<p>After her return to America, Mrs. Stowe kept on writing—sketches of +her experiences abroad, essays and stories of New England life, and a +second slavery novel called <i>Dred</i>, which the critics announced a +greater book than <i>Uncle Tom’s Cabin</i>, but its popular success was +less.</p> + +<p>Her whole soul was bound up in the affairs of the nation as the crisis +of 1861 drew nearer. She dreaded war, yet believed that it was the +red-hot iron that must burn away the nation’s disease.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“It was God’s will,” she said, “that this land, north as well as +south, should deeply and terribly suffer for the sin of consenting +to and encouraging the great oppressions of the south; that the +ill-gotten wealth which had arisen from striking hands with oppression +and robbery should be paid back in the taxes of war; that the blood of +the poor slave, that had cried so many years from the ground in vain, +should be answered by the blood of the sons from the best hearthstones +through all the free states; that the slave mothers whose tears nobody +regarded should have with them a great company of weepers, north +and south, Rachels weeping for their children and refusing to be +comforted; that the free states who refused to listen when they were +told of lingering starvation, cold, privation, and barbarous cruelty +as perpetrated on the slave, should have lingering starvation, cold, +hunger, and cruelty doing its work among their own sons, at the hands +of these slave masters with whose sins our nation had connived.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Her own son was among the first to enlist when Lincoln called for +volunteers. “Would you have men say that Harriet Beecher Stowe’s son is +a coward?” he replied to a question about his going. And she received +him back from Gettysburg with a wound in his head from which he never +recovered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span></p> + +<p>From morning till night, all the days of the week, throughout the war +Mrs. Stowe worked steadily. Years before she had written an appeal +to the women of America, setting forth the injustice and misery of +slavery, begging them to work together to have the system abolished. +And when a strong party arose in England favoring the South, she wrote +another appeal to her sisters there, which helped to crystallize public +sentiment in favor of abolition and the North, to stop the English talk +of recognizing the independence of the confederacy and of mediation. +Its effect on the press and on Parliament was at once evident, and all +over the kingdom resolutions were passed for the Union.</p> + +<p>During the trying days of reconstruction she worked to secure full +rights for the freedmen. Living in Florida for the winters, and in +Connecticut in the summers, both north and south she helped to educate +the negroes whom she had helped to free.</p> + +<p>She still wrote well for many years, though she never achieved another +exceptional success. Thirty books in all she published, some of them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> +admirable, and then claimed a release from active service, saying she +had written all her thoughts. But had Uncle Tom been her only hero, +still would she live in the history of our country as foremost in the +movement against slavery.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br> +JULIA WARD HOWE<br> +1819-1910</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Julia Ward was born in New York City, and lived most of her life there +and in Boston. Her father was a wealthy banker, with a fine sense of +American noblesse oblige. Her mother, a woman of scholarly tastes, died +when Julia was only five.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ward gave his children every possible advantage—lessons in French +and Italian and music, as well as the best English education; and the +three daughters had as good a training as the three sons. Julia was +an unusual child with a wonderful memory, and learned very quickly. +She wrote poems, solemn poems, when a very little girl. At nine she +listened at school to recitations in Italian and handed the amazed +instructor a composition in that language asking to be allowed to join +the class—and this request was granted, though the other pupils were +twice her age.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span></p> + +<p>Life was a serious thing to this child who was brought up very +strictly, with duty and dignity constantly impressed upon her. She +heard frequently stories of her ancestors—colonial governors, +Revolutionary officers, Nathaniel Greene, and Marion, the “swamp fox +of Carolina,”—the long line passed before the grave little girl, +terrible as an army with banners; but always with the trumpet call of +inspiration in the thought that they belonged to her.</p> + +<p>When she was sixteen her brother returned from several years of study +in Germany, and a new world was opened to her—German philosophy and +poetry, and simultaneously New York society; for at once he made the +Ward home one of the social centers of the city. Julia became the +reigning favorite and won everybody by her beauty and charm, her tact +and ready wit and good humor. She continued her studies regularly, +translating German and French and Italian poems, reading philosophy and +writing verses.</p> + +<p>Visiting in Boston, she made the acquaintance of the literary group +there—Longfellow, Emerson, Whittier and Holmes. Charles Sumner was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> +her brother’s intimate friend, and one day when he and Longfellow +were calling on Miss Ward they suggested driving over to the Perkins +Institute for the Blind.</p> + +<p>They had frequently talked to her of its founder, Doctor Samuel Gridley +Howe, the truest hero that America and their century had produced, and +withal the best of comrades. The Chevalier, they named him, a Bayard +without fear and without reproach. She knew something of the six years +he had spent in Greece, fighting during the war for independence +and serving as surgeon-in-chief. She knew of his pioneer work for +educating the blind, and of his marvelous achievement in teaching Laura +Bridgeman—the little blind and deaf and dumb girl, the statue which he +had brought to life.</p> + +<p>When the three friends arrived Doctor Howe was absent, but before +they had finished their tour of the building Sumner spied him from +the window and called out, “There he is now, on his black horse.” The +young lady saw him, “a noble rider on a noble steed,” and into her +life he rode that day, like a medieval chevalier, in spite of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> the +fact that he was forty and she only twenty-four, in spite of the fact +that she had lived a gay social life and he was a serious reformer and +philanthropist who believed that with the world so full of needy people +no one had a right to luxury.</p> + +<p>Life with a reformer husband was not always the care-free thing Julia +Ward had known, but she had shipped as mate for the voyage, she once +said with a merry laugh, and added, “I can not imagine a more useful +motto for married life.” She realized always that the deepest and +most steadfast part of herself she owed to Doctor Howe. “But for +the Chevalier, I should have been merely a woman of the world and a +literary dabbler.”</p> + +<p>With all the cares and joys of a rich home life with her six children, +she found time for study and writing. She published two volumes of +verse, the first anonymously, but the secret could not be kept, for +people declared that no one but Julia Ward Howe could be its author.</p> + +<p>In addition to his work for the blind, Doctor Howe edited an +anti-slavery paper called the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> <i>Boston Commonwealth</i>, and his wife +helped him with that task. Garrison, Sumner, Phillips, Higginson and +Theodore Parker became their friends and co-workers. To balance the +reformers, Edwin Booth, Holmes, Longfellow and Emerson were frequent +guests, drawn by the magnet of Mrs. Howe’s personality.</p> + +<p>The slavery question became more and more acute, and soon the country +was plunged into civil war. Every earnest woman longed to be of some +immediate service to the nation and to humanity. Mrs. Howe was fired +with the desire to help. Her husband was beyond the age for military +duty, her oldest son was a lad, the youngest child two years old. She +could not leave home as a nurse. She lacked the practical deftness to +prepare lint and hospital stores. She seemed to have nothing to give, +there was nothing for her to do.</p> + +<p>If only her gift for verses were not so slight! If she could but voice +the spirit of the hour!</p> + +<p>During the autumn of 1861 Julia Ward Howe visited Washington. With +friends she went to watch a review of the northern troops, at +some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> distance from the city. While the maneuvers were going on, a +sudden movement of the Confederates brought the pageant to a close. +Detachments of soldiers galloped to the assistance of a small body of +men in danger of being surrounded and cut off from retreat; while the +troops remaining were ordered back to camp.</p> + +<p>The carriage with the Boston visitors returned very slowly to +Washington, for soldiers filled the roads. There were tedious waits +while the marching regiments passed them. To beguile the time and to +relieve the tense situation, they sang snatches of popular army songs, +and one of these was <i>John Brown’s Body</i>.</p> + +<p>“Good for you!” called out the passing boys in blue, and joined in the +chorus with a will, “His soul goes marching on.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Howe,” asked James Freeman Clarke, who was in the carriage with +her, “why don’t you write some really worthy words for that stirring +tune?”</p> + +<p>“I have often wished to do it,” she replied.</p> + +<p>And that night her wish was fulfilled. Very early, in the gray of the +morning twilight, she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> awoke and as she waited for the dawn the poem +came to her, line by line, till the first stanza was finished. Phrase +by phrase, and another stanza! The words came sweeping over her with +the rhythm of marching feet. Resistlessly the long lines swung into +place before her eyes. “Let us die to make men free, while God is +marching on,” and the <i>Battle Hymn of the Republic</i> was achieved.</p> + +<p>“I must get up and write it down, lest I fall asleep again and forget +it,” she said to herself. In the half light she groped for pen and +paper and scrawled the lines down, almost without looking—a thing she +had often done before, when verses came to her in the night. With the +words put down in black and white, safe from oblivion, she went to +sleep again, saying drowsily to herself, “I like this better than most +things I have written.”</p> + +<p>The poem was published soon after in the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, but +aroused little comment. The war, with alternate victory and defeat, +engrossed public attention. Small heed could be paid to a few lines in +a magazine.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span></p> + +<p>But an army chaplain in Ohio read it, liked it, and memorized it before +putting down the <i>Atlantic</i>. Captured at Winchester, where he had +delayed to help the doctors with the wounded, this chaplain was sent +to Libby Prison, in Richmond. One large, comfortless room the Union +men had, with the floor for a bed. The Confederate officer in charge +told them one night that the South had just had a great victory; and +while they sat there in sorrow old Ben, a negro who sold them papers, +whispered to one prisoner that this news was false, that Gettysburg had +been a great defeat for the South.</p> + +<p>The word passed like a flame. Men leaped to their feet, and broke into +rejoicings. They shouted and embraced one another in a frenzy of joy +and triumph. And the fighting Chaplain McCabe, standing in the middle +of that great room, lifted up his fine baritone voice and sang, “Mine +eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” Every voice took +up the chorus and “Glory, glory hallelujah, our God is marching on,” +rang through Libby Prison. You can imagine the effect of the tremendous +uplift of the lines.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p>Released, the fighting chaplain began work for the Christian Commission +and gave a lecture in the hall of representatives in Washington. +As part of his recent experiences he told this incident of their +celebration of the battle of Gettysburg, and ended by singing Mrs. +Howe’s poem, as only the man who had lived it could sing it. The great +audience was electrified. Men and women sprang to their feet and wept +and shouted. Above the wild applause they heard the voice of Abraham +Lincoln calling, while the tears rolled down his cheeks, “Sing it +again!”</p> + +<p>McCabe sang it and the nation took up the chorus. The story of this +lecture made the hymn popular everywhere. It was sung in all the homes +of the North, at recruiting meetings and rallies. The troops sang it in +bivouac at night, and on the march. The Union army seized on it as its +battle cry and sang it as they went into action.</p> + +<p>This song, which wrote itself in a wonderful moment of inspiration, +embodied the very soul of the Union cause. Yet throughout its twenty +lines there is no hint of sectional feeling. It was like an electric +shock to the people of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> North, the call of a silver trumpet, the +flash of a lifted sword. It inspired them with hope and courage, giving +a new faith in the justice of God. The strength it brought to millions +of men and women can never be measured.</p> + +<p>And in the world war of the twentieth century, somewhere in France, +it was sung over and over. Phrase by phrase, the words fitting new +conditions, as they fitted those of the sixties—the lightning of His +terrible sword, the fiery gospel written in burnished rows of steel, +the trumpet that shall never call retreat, sifting out men’s hearts +before His judgment seat, let us die to make men free—these apply in +any warfare or crusade where men are fighting not for self, but for +ideals.</p> + +<p>After the war was ended Mrs. Howe continued to study, to write essays +and poems, to give lectures, to serve in many great causes. But she +is best remembered for the message which seemed to come to America, +through her loving and sorrowing heart, from God himself, in the +<i>Battle Hymn of the Republic</i>.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br> +MARY A. LIVERMORE<br> +1821-1905</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mary Ashton Rice was a little Boston girl, brought up very strictly. +She was a restless active child, quick to learn at school, always +enthusiastic over her tasks. A great favorite and a leader, she took +the part of any unfortunate child in school; a cripple, a shabbily +dressed youngster, one who was ridiculed because of her scanty +luncheon, found friend and defender in Mary.</p> + +<p>There were few playthings for the Rice children and Mary invented +a wonderful game called “playing church.” In the old woodshed they +arranged logs for the pews and sticks of wood eked out the audience of +children. Mary always conducted the services, praying and preaching +with the greatest seriousness, while the others listened. And her +father would say, “I wish you’d been a boy, child, we’d have trained +you for the ministry.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> None of them ever dreamed that she would become +a great public speaker and would often give addresses in churches.</p> + +<p>Graduating from school at fourteen, she went to the Charlestown Female +Seminary, and before the term closed was asked to take a position made +vacant by the death of one of the teachers. Reciting and studying out +of hours, she managed to complete the four-year course in two years and +at the same time earned the money for this education.</p> + +<p>Then she went as governess in the family of a Virginia planter. She +had heard Lucretia Mott and Whittier lecture, and determined to find +out for herself whether the facts of slavery were as black as they +were painted. She came back from her two years in Virginia, a stanch +abolitionist.</p> + +<p>She served as principal in a Massachusetts high school for the next +three years, and resigned to marry Doctor Livermore, a young minister +whose church was near the school. She assisted in his parish work; she +started benevolent and literary and temperance societies among the +church-members; and she helped her husband edit a religious paper, +after they moved to Chicago. She frequently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> wrote stories and sketches +for eastern magazines, and she sat at the press table in the “Wigwam” +when Lincoln was nominated for the presidency in 1860. With her +writing, her three children, and a quiet, happy home life, doing the +common duties of every day, it seemed impossible that Mary Livermore +would ever be helping to make American history.</p> + +<p>But Lincoln was elected, Sumter was fired on, the nation plunged into +civil war, the president called for volunteers.</p> + +<p>Summoned to Boston by her father’s illness, Mrs. Livermore was in +the station when the Massachusetts troops started south. The streets +were crowded, the bells rang, the bands played. Women smiled and said +good-by when their hearts were breaking. After the train had pulled out +several women fainted and Mrs. Livermore stayed to help them.</p> + +<p>“He has only gone for three months, you know,” she said to one little +mother.</p> + +<p>“If my country needs him for three months or three years, I’m not the +woman to hinder him,” was the brave reply. “When he told me at noon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> +to-day he’d enlisted I gave him my blessing and told him to go, for if +we lose our country, what is there to live for?”</p> + +<p>Seeing such partings Mary Livermore could not rest. She had no sons to +send. What could women do to help?</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” was the answer from Washington when they offered their +services; “there is no place for women at the front, no need for them +in the hospitals.”</p> + +<p>The outbreak of the war found the North wholly unprepared. Hospitals +were few and poorly equipped, nurses scarce and not well trained; there +were no diet kitchens, no organized ways to supply medicines to the +sick, to care for the wounded. Taxed to the utmost in every direction, +the government could not meet all the urgent demands for hospital +supplies. Relief societies sprang up everywhere, working individually, +sending boxes to the troops from their special localities.</p> + +<p>But what a waste in that haphazard method! Perishable freight +accumulated till it was a serious problem. Baggage cars were flooded +with fermenting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> sweetmeats and broken jars of jelly. Decaying fruit +and demoralized cakes were found packed in with clothing and blankets. +The soldiers were constantly moving about and many packages failed of +delivery. The lavish outpouring of the generous people of the North +meant for a time a lavish waste. If the men’s answer to Lincoln’s call +was unparalleled, no less remarkable was the response of the women; but +it needed to be systematized and organized like a great business. That +was Mary A. Livermore’s contribution to saving the Union.</p> + +<p>To supplement the work of the federal government the Sanitary +Commission was established. Mrs. Livermore was president of an aid +society in Chicago which was one of the first to merge with the +Commission. And from then till peace came she gave her time, her +energy, her heart and mind and soul to the work of relief. She had +enlisted not for three months, but for the duration of the war. With +Mrs. Jane Hoge she served as organizer and executive not only for all +the activities of Chicago and Illinois, but for the entire Northwest. +Faithfully she worked to provide for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> the sick and wounded soldiers +abundantly, persistently, methodically.</p> + +<p>What full and varied days she had for those four years—opening a great +sewing-room in Chicago where hospital garments were made by the wives +of soldiers, writing hundreds of letters with news of missing men, +establishing a system of relief for their families and for refugees, +giving instructions and arranging transportation for groups of nurses +starting to the front, planning ways and means to raise money and +supplies, writing for her husband’s journal and for other publications +sketches of her “Sanitary” experiences, supervising the four thousand +aid societies under the Chicago office, constantly visiting groups +of ladies to help them start the work, sending out monthly bulletins +to keep in close touch with these branches, appointing inspectors to +report on the quality of food and water, and the sanitary arrangements +in camps and hospitals, printing and distributing to the army pamphlets +on preserving health in camp and emergency treatment, initiating and +overseeing forty soldiers’ lodgings—free hotels for men passing back +and forth separated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> from their regiments—helping with a pension +agency, a back-pay agency, a directory of more than two hundred +hospitals, sending to the battle-fields surgeons and instruments, +ambulances, anesthetics, and frequently going herself to see that the +things reached the men and were efficiently distributed.</p> + +<p>The work of the women of the Northwest she consecrated and organized, +making them half-soldiers while she kept the soldiers half-civilian by +bridging over the chasm between military and home life. She planned +wisely, largely. She worked exactly, persistently. In a few months army +surgeons were enthusiastic in their praise of the Sanitary Commission, +where at first the whole scheme was regarded as quixotic, described +as the fifth wheel of a coach, and reluctantly agreed to only because +its plans could do no harm. And the people of the North accepted their +larger methods and gave supplies to any hospital and any men needing +them. The Commission became the great channel through which the bounty +of the nation flowed to the army.</p> + +<p>Every hour saw boxes arriving at the crowded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> rooms of the Chicago +branch, where the total force of workers was four. Supplies were +unpacked, assorted, repacked, one kind in a box, and sent to Washington +or Louisville, the gates to the South. A high standard Mrs. Livermore +set for her aid societies—one box of hospital supplies every month, +and this standard she upheld throughout the war. Such a rigid system +was insisted on, in receiving and distributing their stores, that a +very insignificant fraction was lost, the vouchers taken at every stage +making it possible to trace them back to the original contributors.</p> + +<p>Her first actual war experience was after the victory at Donelson. +There was a cold rain during the first day’s fighting which changed +to sleet and snow with a bleak wind. There were no tents. The men +bivouacked in the snow. Hundreds of them who fell were frozen to the +ground and had to be dug out. The hospitals were not ready for such a +stream of patients. There were few ambulances. In their bloody frozen +uniforms wounded men were jolted over the hilly roads in springless +carts, to be sent to St. Louis.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Livermore spent three weeks in the different hospitals there and +in Cairo, visiting every ward, reporting careless arrangements, happy +to see great improvements on her second visit. Always the men greeted +her gladly, stretching out their hands to touch hers, talking freely of +home and friends.</p> + +<p>A year later she was sent down the Mississippi with shipments of +sanitary stores, to inspect every hospital from Cairo to Young’s Point, +opposite Vicksburg. Mud and water she found everywhere, swamp fever and +malaria and scurvy. One group of hopelessly sick men she offered to +take north with her, and Grant made this possible by cutting the red +tape of the military régime.</p> + +<p>The demand for hospital supplies increased steadily, as the army +increased in numbers and in the scope of its operations. The Sanitary +Commission expended fifty million dollars during the war, each battle +costing about seventy-five thousand, and Gettysburg half a million. And +in raising this vast sum Mrs. Livermore was one of the most efficient +workers.</p> + +<p>She planned a great Sanitary Fair in Chicago,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> to raise twenty-five +thousand dollars. The men laughed at such an impossibility. But the +women went ahead. They hired fourteen of the largest halls in the city, +and went into debt ten thousand dollars. They must have gone crazy, +said the business men, and sent a committee to advise that the fair be +given up, and adding that when they thought the money was needed they +would contribute the twenty-five thousand. But the ladies thanked them +courteously and continued with their plans.</p> + +<p>Such a fair as it was, opening with a great parade, “the potato +procession,” the papers had called it, making sport of the scheme. The +school children were given a holiday. Banks and stores were closed. +Railroads ran excursions, bells rang, guns were fired, the whole city +gathered to see the parade—children carrying flags, convalescent +soldiers in carriages, captured standards of the Confederate armies, +and farmers’ wagons with mottoes such as “Our father lies at Stone +River” and “We buried a son at Donelson.” The flags on the horses’ +heads were edged with black. The women who rode beside son or husband +were dressed in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> black. And when the parade stopped in front of Mrs. +Livermore’s house, the crowd was in tears.</p> + +<p>The farmers gave great wagon loads of potatoes and cabbages and onions, +for shipment to the soldiers. Live stock was sold at auction just +outside the main hall. In manufacturers’ annex were plows and reapers +and stoves and trunks and washing machines, all for sale. There was +a curiosity shop, an art gallery whose treasures were loaned for the +fair, one hall for entertainments every evening—concerts, tableaux, +lectures by Anna Dickinson, the girl orator. Dinner was served each +day. When it was all over the women had cleared a hundred thousand +dollars.</p> + +<p>But the fair did far more than raise this large sum of money. It +was a splendid demonstration of loyalty to the Union. It encouraged +the soldiers. It kindled an electric generosity and a contagious +patriotism, infusing into widely scattered groups of workers an impetus +that lasted through the war. It captured the attention of the entire +loyal North for weeks. Its success led to Sanitary Fairs in Cleveland, +Boston, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, New York and Philadelphia.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> + +<p>Soon after the Chicago fair was over, Mrs. Livermore was asked to +speak to an aid society in Dubuque, Iowa. She left on the night train, +reaching the Mississippi River at a point where there was no bridge and +travelers must cross by ferry. But the ice in the river had stopped the +boats. She waited nearly all day. Could she keep her engagement? At +last she saw two men starting out in a small rowboat, but they refused +to take her.</p> + +<p>“You’ll be drowned,” they said.</p> + +<p>“I can’t see that I shall drown any more than you!” was her reply, and +finally they rowed her across. Her determination to accomplish whatever +she undertook was one reason for her success.</p> + +<p>She had expected to talk informally to a small group of women. To her +dismay she found that great preparations had been made. The largest +church in Dubuque was filled with an eager crowd, the governor and many +noted men being present, and every county in Iowa represented. And her +lecture was announced, “A Voice from the Front.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> + +<p>“I can’t do it,” she said. “I’m not a public speaker. What I had to +say to a few ladies is not worthy to be called a lecture to this great +audience. I can’t do it!”</p> + +<p>So it was arranged that Colonel Stone, with whose regiment she had +spent some time near the line of battle, should take down brief notes +of the talk she would have given to the aid society, and tell the story +to the people. They had started into the church to carry out this plan +when he said to her, “I’ve seen you at the front, I watched your work +in the hospital, and I believe you’re in earnest. I’ve heard you say +you’d give anything for the soldiers. Now is the time for you to give +your voice. Shall this opportunity be lost—or shall Iowa be enlisted +for the work of the Sanitary Commission?”</p> + +<p>“I will try,” said Mary A. Livermore.</p> + +<p>The sea of faces blurred before her. She seemed to be talking into +blank darkness. She could not hear her own voice. But suddenly the +needs of the soldiers crowded upon her mind, the destitution, sickness, +suffering she had seen at the front,—and the people of Iowa must be +roused to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> do their share. She thought she had spoken half an hour, it +was nearly two hours. The audience listened spellbound, men and women +weeping, every heart filled with a new patriotism.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said the governor when she closed, “Mrs. Livermore has told us +of the soldiers’ needs. It is our turn to speak, and we must speak in +money and gifts.”</p> + +<p>Eight thousand dollars were pledged, five hundred barrels of potatoes, +bushels of onions and anti-scorbutics of which the army was greatly +in need. People stayed till eleven o’clock, and the leaders till one, +planning for an Iowa fair which later cleared sixty thousand dollars.</p> + +<p>That was the first public speech of the little Mary Rice who had +preached to sticks of wood. But it was not the last. In hundreds of +towns she spoke, raising thousands of dollars for hospital work and +soldiers’ homes, helping organize aid societies and fairs.</p> + +<p>And after the war, from Atlantic to Pacific, in churches and colleges, +in city and country, she lectured to crowded houses, talking on her war +experiences in the “Sanitary,” on temperance and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> woman’s suffrage. A +most popular speaker she was, achieving much for the various causes +with which she was connected. But most of all she is remembered for the +wonders accomplished in the many-sided work of the Sanitary Commission, +whose efficient service helped to win the war.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br> +BARBARA FRITCHIE<br> +1766-1862</h2> +</div> + + +<p>In December, 1766, a daughter was born in the house of a German +immigrant, Nicolaus Hauer, in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and she was +named Barbara. She had four sisters and brothers. Their early years +were spent in Pennsylvania and then the family moved to Frederick, +Maryland.</p> + +<p>Barbara went to school for a while in Baltimore. Her education was +the best that could be obtained at that day, for she was “thoroughly +well-read and could write.” When she was ninety-two years old she +scorned making her mark on business papers and proudly signed her name.</p> + +<p>Barbara remembered the discussions that went on, when she was a very +little girl, about the Boston tea party and the English taxes. She was +nearly ten years old when the Declaration of Independence was signed. +All her life long she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> talked with great pride of the success of the +colonists. She remembered many scenes of the Revolution. Step by step +she watched Washington’s career and shared in the popular rejoicing +when peace was announced. In 1791 Washington was entertained in +Frederick and Barbara begged that her china be used in pouring the tea +at the ball. And when Washington died and a memorial funeral was held +in the town, she was chosen as one of the pall-bearers.</p> + +<p>Frederick was a lovely little gem, set in a circle of historic hills, +like Nazareth—an old town with narrow streets and lanes, and houses +with queer roofs where the shingles had a double lap that made them +look like old Dutch tiles. There was a market square in the center of +the town, and on the outskirts the stone barracks built during the +reign of Queen Anne, where Braddock met Washington and Franklin in +council, and where prisoners were kept during the Revolution.</p> + +<p>Here lived Barbara Fritchie, an active capable woman, known for her +sturdy good sense, her incessant industry and her intense loyalty to +her country. Literally she grew with its growth,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> watching its progress +through the War of 1812, the admission of new states, westward and ever +westward expanding, till gold was discovered in California; and always +the slavery question sinister and threatening in the background.</p> + +<p>When Barbara was nearly forty she married John Caspar Fritchie, a glove +maker. They lived in a little high-gabled story-and-a-half house on +West Patrick Street, built of red brick penciled in white, with white +shutters and two dormer windows in the long sloping roof. They owned +two slaves, Nellie and Harry, who were so kindly treated that when +freed they returned often, as children seek the home of their parents.</p> + +<p>Her husband died in 1849 and Dame Fritchie, who never had any children, +lived alone in the little house, busy with her many nieces and nephews, +her knitting and her garden; a slight figure, under medium height, with +small penetrating eyes, usually dressed in black alpaca or satin, with +a starched muslin kerchief crossed on her breast, and a close white +cap. She was always firm and decisive, and had indeed the reputation of +a sharp tongue.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span></p> + +<p>Then began the Civil War and Barbara, ninety-four years old, was noted +for her fearless behavior and her intense outspoken loyalty, when +loyalty was not the easiest matter in that border state. For Frederick +had much to endure that winter. Soldiers of both armies were constantly +in the way, skirmishes and duels were frequent in the narrow streets.</p> + +<p>The flag was always flying from the Fritchie window and Dame Barbara +kept busy, helping sick soldiers and cheering the despairing Unionists. +“Never mind,” she would say when news of reverses came, “we must +conquer sometime.” For stimulated by the glorious memory of what +she had lived through, she had a supreme faith that the Union must +survive. “It will never happen that one short life like mine shall see +the beginning and the end of a nation like this.” She would ask the +shopkeeper, “How do matters look now?” If the reports were cheering her +joy was evident; if sad, she would say, “Do not be cast down. We have +seen darker times. Stand firm, it will all come right, I know it will. +The Union must be preserved.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span></p> + +<p>Often the southern troops marched through Frederick, tired out, and +stopped to rest on the porches of private houses. Once they halted in +front of Barbara Fritchie’s home, sat on her steps, and went to the +spring near by for water. To all this she made no objection, but when +they began to talk in a derogatory way of her beloved country, she was +at the door in a moment and bade them move on, laying about her with +her cane in the most vigorous manner, crying, “Off, off, you Rebels!” +and clearing the porch in a few moments.</p> + +<p>With victory alternating between North and South, matters dragged on +until September of 1862, when Lee’s advance troops under Stonewall +Jackson spent a week in Frederick, to encourage recruiting for the +Confederate army. Every Union flag was ordered hauled down, and +according to one version of the story Barbara Fritchie, with the other +loyalists, took down her flag and hid it in the Bible, saying that no +Rebel would think of looking for it there.</p> + +<p>Another story tells how on the morning of the sixth Dame Barbara’s +niece went to see her and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> told her of a rumor that the soldiers would +pass through the town that day. Presently the child ran in and called +out in great excitement, “Aunt Fritchie, the troops are coming!”</p> + +<p>To the loyal old lady troops meant only one army. She heard the sound +of marching feet. Picking up a silk flag she stepped out on the porch +and waved it at the men passing. Instantly a murmur arose. A captain, +riding up to the porch, said kindly, “Granny, you had better take your +flag in the house.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t do it, I won’t,” was her reply, as she saw for the first time +that the passing soldiers were dressed in gray. Defiantly she shook the +flag. The excitement in the ranks increased. Threatening murmurs arose. +Another officer left the line and said, “Old woman, put that flag away, +or you may get in trouble.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t,” she responded and waved it again.</p> + +<p>Angry shouts came from the men. A third officer approaching warned her:</p> + +<p>“If you don’t stop that, you’ll have that flag shot out of your hand.”</p> + +<p>The captain, who was still standing near, turned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> to him and said +angrily, “If you harm a hair of her head, I’ll shoot you like a dog! +March on,” he commanded sternly, for some of the soldiers had lifted +their guns.</p> + +<p>On the twelfth of September the southerners left Frederick and the +Union forces marched in, to leave the following day for South Mountain +and Antietam. It was common talk among the northern soldiers that +some old lady had kept a Union flag flying from her window during the +Rebels’ possession of the town, and that it had been fired on.</p> + +<p>As the Federal troops were leaving the city General Reno noticed a +crowd of people in front of Barbara Fritchie’s home, reined in his +horse and heard the story. On being told that she was more than ninety +years old, he exclaimed, “The spirit of 1776!” and his men gave a +mighty shout that echoed along the street. Some of the boys in blue ran +to the window and grasped her hand, saying, “God bless you, old lady!” +and “May you live long, you dear old soul!”</p> + +<p>The general dismounted to shake hands with the aged heroine, who gave +him some home-made<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> currant wine, served in the blue delft from which +Washington had drunk. He asked if she would sell him the flag. This she +refused to do, but gave him a bunting flag.</p> + +<p>“Frank,” he said to his brother as they rode away, “whom does she +remind you of?”</p> + +<p>“Mother.”</p> + +<p>The general nodded his head. The next day Reno fell at South Mountain, +mortally wounded, and Barbara’s flag was placed on his casket when it +was sent north to his Massachusetts home.</p> + +<p>Three months later Dame Fritchie died, at fourscore and sixteen, and +was buried in the little graveyard of the Reformed Church in Frederick.</p> + +<p>Her story was published in the newspapers and gained credence in +Maryland and in Washington. It was accepted as a fitting symbol of a +real and great emotion of the people. Mrs. Southworth, the novelist, +hearing it from friends and from a neighbor who was a connection of the +Fritchie family, sent it to Whittier, adding, “This story of a woman’s +heroism seemed as much to belong to you as a book picked up with your +autograph on the fly-leaf.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> + +<p>Within a fortnight after its receipt the Quaker poet, in his most +heroic mood, wrote his Barbara Fritchie ballad, remarkable for its +lofty patriotism. Though he had no military training his lines are full +of the spirit of army life, the tread of marching soldiers, the orders +short and sharp, a stirring setting for the courageous act of an old +lady of ninety-six.</p> + +<p>“It ought to have fallen into better hands,” Whittier wrote to Mrs. +Southworth. “If it is good for anything thee deserves the credit of it.”</p> + +<p>The poem was sent to the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, whose editor replied, +“Enclosed is a check for fifty dollars, but Barbara’s weight should be +in gold!”</p> + +<p>The ballad was, and is, most popular through the North, for it belongs +in the class which the world will never willingly let die. But it +aroused great enmity in the South where people bitterly resented the +statement that a favorite general had ordered his men to fire on an old +lady. There were many denials of all the details of the story, some +from members of the Fritchie family—that Jackson did not pass the +Fritchie house, proved by statements from his staff; that Barbara had +waved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> her flag only to welcome the Union army, and the incident had +been blended with the story of Mrs. Quantrell, a loyal school-teacher +who did wave the flag in sight of the Confederates; that no such person +as Barbara Fritchie had ever lived in Frederick!</p> + +<p>Said Whittier years later, “There has been a good deal of dispute about +my little poem. That there was a Dame Fritchie in Frederick who loved +the old flag is not disputed by any one. If I made any mistake in the +details there was none in my estimate of her noble character and her +loyalty and patriotism. If there was no such occurrence, so much the +worse for Frederick City.”</p> + +<p>Across the town from the little churchyard where John and Barbara +Fritchie lie buried is the monument marking the grave of the author of +<i>The Star-Spangled Banner</i>. And in both cemeteries the flag floats +out, signaling the one to the other, fulfilling the lines of the Quaker +poet:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Over Barbara Fritchie’s grave</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Flag of freedom and union, wave!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And ever the stars above look down</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On thy stars below in Frederick town.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br> +CLARA BARTON<br> +1821-1912</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Clarissa Harlowe Barton was born on December twenty-fifth, in an old +farmhouse in Worcester County, Massachusetts. Her grandfather had +fought through the Revolution, her father in Mad Anthony Wayne’s +campaigns against the Indians. Clara listened to many a stirring story +of the dangers they had met. As they fought their battles over again, +she learned her country’s history and loved it passionately.</p> + +<p>The older Barton children were her teachers and very rapidly indeed she +learned. For she went to school at three, able to spell words of three +syllables, but so shy she could not answer questions. Her athletic +brother David, whom she admired greatly, taught her to ride.</p> + +<p>“Learning to ride is just learning a horse!” said he.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> + +<p>“How can I learn a horse?” asked the little sister.</p> + +<p>“Just feel the horse a part of yourself, the big half for the time +being. Here, hold fast by the mane,” and David lifted her up to a +colt’s back, sprang on another himself and away they galloped down the +pasture—a mad ride which they repeated often, till she learned to +stick on. In after years when she rode strange horses in a trooper’s +saddle, for all-night gallops to safety, she was grateful to David for +those wild rides among the colts.</p> + +<p>Strong in body, alert in mind, Clara Barton grew up, never free from +shyness unless she was busily at work. “The only real fun is doing +things,” she would say. She helped milk and churn, she learned to drive +a nail straight, to deal with a situation efficiently, with quick +decision.</p> + +<p>When she was eleven David was seriously injured by a fall from the +roof of a new barn, and was for two years an invalid. At once Clara +took charge, her love and sympathy expressed in untiring service. In a +moment she was changed from a lively child, fond of outdoor sports, to +a nurse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> calm and cheerful, full of resources, no matter how exacting +the doctors’ orders were, no matter how much David was suffering. The +sickroom was tidy and quiet. Clara was clear-headed, equal to every +emergency, always at her post, nothing too hard for her to do well and +promptly, if it would make her brother more comfortable. For those two +years she had not even one half-holiday, so her apprenticeship was +thoroughly served.</p> + +<p>“That child’s a born nurse,” the neighbors would say. And the doctors, +agreeing, praised her tenderness and patience. Years later thousands of +men echoed David’s words when he spoke of her loving care.</p> + +<p>But these two years made her more sensitive and self-conscious. Her +shyness and unhappiness made her a real problem to her mother.</p> + +<p>“Give her some responsibility,” advised a wise family friend, “give her +a school to teach. For others she will be fearless.”</p> + +<p>Far ahead of girls of her age in her studies, at fifteen Clara Barton +put up her hair and lengthened her skirts and went to face her forty +pupils. “It was one of the most awful moments of my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> life,” she +described it long afterward. “I could not find my voice, my hand +trembled so I was afraid to turn the page. But the end of that first +day proved I could do it.”</p> + +<p>Her pluck and strength won the respect of the big rough boys, who tried +her out on the playground and found she was as sturdy as they. That +school was a great success, and for sixteen years she taught, winter +and summer.</p> + +<p>In Bordentown, New Jersey, no school was possible, she heard, because +of the lawless children who ran wild on the streets. The town officials +were convinced it was hopeless, no use to make the experiment. Here was +something to be done, it challenged her!</p> + +<p>“Give me three months, and I’ll teach for nothing,” she proposed, her +eyes flashing with determination.</p> + +<p>In a tumbledown old building she began with six gamins, each of whom +at the end of the day became an enthusiastic advertisement for the new +teacher. At the close of the school year she had an assistant, six +hundred children on the roll, and a fine new building was erected, the +first public<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> school in the state. For Clara Barton had a gift for +teaching, plus a pioneer zeal.</p> + +<p>When her voice gave out she went to Washington for a rest and secured +a position in the patent office. So she was at the capital when the +conflict long threatening between North and South developed into civil +war. Sumter was fired on. The time for sacrifice had come.</p> + +<p>In response to Lincoln’s call for volunteers Massachusetts sent men +immediately, and on the historic nineteenth of April one regiment was +attacked in the streets of Baltimore by a furious mob. With a good many +wounded their train finally reached Washington and was met by a number +of sympathetic women, Clara Barton among them. In the group of injured +soldiers she recognized some of her old pupils and friends. At the +infirmary she helped dress their wounds. Nothing was ready for such an +emergency. Handkerchiefs gave out. Women rushed to their homes and tore +up sheets for bandages. This was Clara Barton’s first experience in +caring for wounded soldiers.</p> + +<p>She wanted them to have the necessities, and all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> the comforts +possible. So she put an advertisement in a Worcester paper, asking +for supplies and money for the wounded men of the sixth regiment, +and stating that she would receive and give out whatever was sent. +Overwhelming was the response of Massachusetts. The food and clothing +filled her apartment to overflowing and she had to rent space in a +warehouse.</p> + +<p>This work made a new person of the shy Clara Barton who had been a +bundle of fears. This was no time to be self-conscious. Here was a +great need, and she knew that she had the ability to meet it.</p> + +<p>South of Washington battles were going on. Transports left each day +with provisions for the army of the Potomac, returning with a load of +wounded soldiers. Clara Barton went to the docks to meet them. She +moved about, bandaging here, giving medicine there, feeding those weak +from the long fighting and lack of nourishment, writing letters home, +sick at heart when she saw men who had lain on the damp ground for +hours, whose fever had set in, for whom her restoratives and dressings +and tender care were too late.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> + +<p>If only wounds could be attended to as soon as the soldiers fell in +battle, she knew that hundreds of deaths could be prevented. She must +go to the front, to the very firing line, though it was against all +tradition, against all army regulations, against public sentiment. For +many weeks she met only rebuffs and refusals, always the same reply: +“No, the battle-field is no place for a woman. It is full of danger!”</p> + +<p>True—but how great was the need of the men at the front, how great the +need of each soldier’s life for the nation! Help must be brought to +them when they fell. She laid her plan before her father who said, “If +you believe that it is your duty, you must go to the front. You need +not fear harm. Every true soldier will respect and bless you.”</p> + +<p>Without a doubt then she determined to persist until she +received permission. At last she was able to put her request to +Assistant-Quartermaster General Rucker and asked him for a pass to the +battle front.</p> + +<p>“I have the stores, give me a way to reach the men.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> + +<p>“But you must think of the dangers this work will bring you. At any +time you may be under the fire of the enemy’s guns.”</p> + +<p>“But,” was her answer, “I am the daughter of a soldier, I am not afraid +of the battle-field.” She described to him the condition of many of the +men when they reached Washington and added earnestly, “I must go to the +front, to care for them quickly.”</p> + +<p>The passport was given her and through the weary years of the war she +stayed at her post—giving medicine to the sick, stimulants to the +wounded and dying, nourishing food to men faint from loss of blood. +Working under no society or leader she was free to come and go. On +sixteen battle-fields, during the hot, muggy summer days of the long +siege of Charleston, all through the Wilderness campaign, in the +Richmond hospitals, there was no limit to her service. And from her +first day on the firing line she had the confidence of the officers and +their help and encouragement. Wherever there were wounded soldiers who +had been under her care, Clara Barton’s name was spoken with affection +and with tears.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span></p> + +<p>In as far as was possible, word of coming engagements was sent her in +advance, that she might be ready with her supplies. At Antietam while +shot was whizzing thick around the group of workers, she ordered her +wagons driven to an old farmhouse just back of the lines. Between the +tall rows of corn, into the barnyard, the worst cases were carried. For +lack of medical supplies the surgeons were using bandages of cornhusks.</p> + +<p>Her supplies quickly unloaded, Clara Barton hurried out to revive the +wounded, giving them bread soaked in wine. The store of bread ran out, +she had left only three cases of wine. “Open them,” she commanded, +“give us that, and God help us all!” for faster and faster soldiers +were coming in. She watched the men open the cases. What was that +around the bottles? Cornmeal! She looked at it closely; yes, finely +ground and sifted. It could not have been worth more if it had been +gold dust. In the farmhouse they found kettles. She mixed the cornmeal +with water and soon was making great quantities of gruel. All night +long they carried this hot food up and down the rows of wounded +soldiers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span></p> + +<p>On one of these trips, in the twilight, she met a surgeon tired and +disheartened. He had only one short candle left, and if men’s lives +were to be saved, the doctors must work all night. “Heartless neglect +and carelessness,” he stormed. But Miss Barton had four boxes of +candles in her stores, ready for just such an emergency.</p> + +<p>Near that battle-field she remained until all her supplies were gone. +“If we had had more wagons,” she reported to General Rucker, “there +would have been enough for all the cases at Antietam.”</p> + +<p>“You shall have enough the next time,” he responded. And the +government, recognizing the value of her service, gave her ten wagons +and sixty mules and drivers.</p> + +<p>Her work succeeded because she had initiative and practical judgment +and rare executive ability and the power of managing men. When her +drivers were rebellious and sulky, showing little respect for orders +that put them under a woman, she controlled them just as she had the +rough boys in her school. Once she prepared a hot dinner and asked them +to share it. After she had cleared<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> away the dishes and was sitting +alone by the fire, awkward and self-conscious they came up to her.</p> + +<p>“Come and get warm,” she welcomed them.</p> + +<p>“No’m, we didn’t come for that,” said the leader. “We come to tell you +we’re ashamed. Truth is, lady, we didn’t want to come. We knew there +was fightin’ ahead, an’ we ain’t never seen a train with a woman in +charge. Now we’ve been mean and contrary all day long, and here you’ve +treated us like we was the general and his staff, and it’s the best +meal we’ve had in two years and we shan’t trouble you again.”</p> + +<p>The next morning they brought her a steaming hot breakfast and for +six months remained with her, through battles and camps and marches, +through frost and snow and heat, a devoted corps of assistants, always +ready for her orders. They helped her nurse the sick and dress the +wounded and soothe the dying, and day by day they themselves grew +gentler and kinder and more tender.</p> + +<p>Once Clara Barton worked for five days and nights with three hours of +sleep. Once she had a narrow escape from capture. Often in danger it +seemed as though she had a special protection that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> she might save the +lives of others. Stooping to give a wounded soldier a drink of water, +a bullet whizzed between them, tearing a hole in her sleeve and ending +the boy’s life.</p> + +<p>She gave her help to men who had fought on either side. They were +suffering, they needed her, that was enough. No man is your enemy +when he is wounded. She leaned over a dying officer in a hospital; a +Confederate looked up into her kind face and whispered:</p> + +<p>“You have been so very good to me. Do not cross the river, our men are +leading you into an ambush. You must save yourself.”</p> + +<p>But his warning was unheeded when later that day the hero-surgeon who +was opening an emergency dressing-station across the river, asked her +help. She went over to Fredericksburg where every stone wall was a +blazing line of battle. A regiment came marching down the street. She +stepped aside. Thinking she must be a terrified southerner, left behind +in their hurried flight, the general leaned from his saddle to ask:</p> + +<p>“You’re alone and in great danger, madam. Do you want protection?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span></p> + +<p>“Thank you, but I think”—Clara Barton looked up at the ranks of +soldiers marching past—“I think, sir, I’m the best protected woman in +the United States!”</p> + +<p>“That’s so, that’s so,” cried out the men and gave her a great cheer +that was taken up by line after line till it sounded like the cheering +after a victory.</p> + +<p>“I believe you’re right, madam,” said the general, bowing low, and +galloped away.</p> + +<p>Over the battle-field a sharp wind was blowing. The suffering men lay +shivering and half frozen in the bitter cold. Some were found famished +under the snow. Clara Barton had all the wounded brought to one place +and great fires built up. But that was not heat enough to warm them. +What to do? She discovered an old chimney not far away. “Tear it down,” +she ordered, “heat the bricks and place them around the men.” Soon she +had kettles of coffee and gruel steaming over the fires, and many a +life she saved at Fredericksburg.</p> + +<p>As the war drew to an end President Lincoln received hundreds and +hundreds of letters from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> anxious parents asking for news of their +boys. The list of missing totaled sixty thousand. In despair the +president sent for Miss Barton, thinking she had more information than +any one else, and asked her to take up the task. A four years’ task +it proved to be. She copied infirmary and burial lists. She studied +records of prisons and hospitals. At Andersonville she laid out the +national cemetery and identified nearly thirteen thousand graves. She +succeeded in tracing and sending definite word of thirty thousand men. +From Maine to Virginia the soldiers knew her. Through the whole country +her name became a household word.</p> + +<p>Her strong will had held her body to its work during the long war and +for this tracing service afterward. Then the doctors insisted she must +rest and sent her to Switzerland for change of scene. After a month +when she was beginning to feel some improvement, she had callers one +day representing the International Red Cross Society.</p> + +<p>“What is that?” asked Clara Barton.</p> + +<p>And they explained—how a Swiss, visiting the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> battle-field of +Solferino and seeing thousands of French and Austrians wounded, +inadequately cared for, had planned a society for the relief of +soldiers. Its badge, a red cross on a white ground, would give its +workers protection from both armies, and they would help all persons +without regard to their race or religion or uniform—exactly the +principle on which she had been working, and to-day the very heart of +the Red Cross plan. Already, they said, the society was formed and +twenty-two nations had joined it. But the United States, though invited +twice, had done nothing. They asked her help.</p> + +<p>Three days afterward the Franco-Prussian War began and soon Clara +Barton was again at the front. With the German army she entered +Strasburg after the siege. On every hand were sick and wounded +soldiers, women and children homeless and ragged and starving. Relief +work started, she went to Paris on the outbreak of the revolution +there. And this work made her enthusiastic about the Red Cross. For at +once she felt the difference—she saw the new society accomplish in +four months, with system<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> and trained workers, what our country had +failed to do in four years. What a contrast—supplies in plenty, wounds +dressed at once, cleanliness, comfort, wherever the white flag with the +red cross was flying, instead of mistakes, delays, needless suffering, +lives sacrificed. She said to herself, “If I live to return to America, +I will try to make them understand what the Red Cross and the Geneva +Treaty mean.”</p> + +<p>She succeeded, though it was a task of years. She found officials +indifferent, hard to convince, clinging to the tradition and prejudice +that forbade any alliance with foreign countries, and saying, “Why make +plans for another war? We’ll never have it!”</p> + +<p>But in March, 1882, the treaty was signed. Clara Barton became the +first president of the American Red Cross Society, an office she held +for twenty-two years. It was her suggestion that they be prepared to +meet any emergency and give relief in time of peace as well as war. +It was her influence that carried this American amendment in the +International Red Cross Congress.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p> + +<p>Many have been the calamities where the Red Cross has given aid—two +wars, floods in the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, the Texas famine, the +Charleston earthquake, the disaster at San Francisco, Florida’s yellow +fever, the Johnstown flood, forest fires—these are a few of the urgent +calls in our own land; and abroad the sufferers in the Russian and +Chinese famines, in Armenia and South Africa, bear witness to her care.</p> + +<p>Eighty years old, she went herself to Galveston. At seventy-seven +McKinley sent her to carry relief to the starving Cubans. And during +the Spanish War she nursed American and Cuban and Spanish soldiers, +once in a storm repeating her Antietam experience with hot gruel!</p> + +<p>Vast sums of money, poured out by the generous American people, were +placed at her disposal for relief to the suffering and destitute. +A sufficient sum in ready cash she always kept on hand, in case a +telegram came when the banks were closed; for there must be no delay in +the Red Cross’s starting on its mission of mercy.</p> + +<p>The world over Clara Barton was known and loved and honored. The German +emperor gave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> her the order of the iron cross, which at that time had +been awarded only for heroism on the battle-field. Queen Victoria +herself pinned an English decoration on her dress. The Duke of Baden, +Serbia, the Prince of Jerusalem all gave her honors; and her home was +decorated with the flags of all the nations.</p> + +<p>Dying at ninety, Clara Barton, retiring and bashful, had given fifty +years of service to suffering humanity, working always on the firing +line. David’s born nurse became head nurse to all the nation. The angel +of the battle-field, as the soldiers loved to call her, became the +country’s angel of mercy.</p> + +<p>And in the Red Cross Society, building perhaps better than she knew, +Clara Barton gave the opportunity for every American citizen, man or +woman or little child, to share in her work of love and mercy.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Thus ends the story of these women who helped to make the history of +our country. It is a record of courage and of service, of splendid +achievement. And these fifteen women by no means tell the whole story. +The contribution of each could be duplicated, in less degree, many +times. They are but typical of countless women who have been true +American patriots.</p> + +<p>The exploring and settling of our country lasted for three centuries, +the building of the nation is not yet finished. There is work for the +women of to-day, if they would be worthy inheritors of these fifteen, +to shape the present true, for the generations to come after. Making +history offers a wide range of service, for heroism wears many forms, +as these brief stories show. But it is of the greatest importance to +the nation that its ideals of heroism shall be high and true.</p> + +<p>Every woman can be a soldier faithful, brave and loyal. We of to-day +and of to-morrow must stand shoulder to shoulder with the inspired +women of the past, to express the best in womanhood, to work for the +highest ideals.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BIBLIOGRAPHY">BIBLIOGRAPHY</h2> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Eggleston—<i>A First Book in American History</i>, 23-41.</p> + +<p>Holland—<i>Historic Girlhoods</i>, 92-106.</p> + +<p>Jenks—<i>Captain John Smith</i>.</p> + +<p>Seelye and Eggleston—<i>Pocahontas</i>.</p> + +<p>Smith—<i>The Story of Pocahontas and Captain John Smith</i>.</p> + +<p>Sweetser—<i>Ten American Girls from History</i>, 1-35.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Bouvé—<i>American Heroes and Heroines</i>, 13-31.</p> + +<p>Brooks—<i>Dames and Daughters of Colonial Days</i>, 1-29.</p> + +<p>Eggleston—<i>The Beginners of a Nation</i>, 326-341.</p> + +<p>Foster, ed.—<i>Heroines of Modern Religion</i>, 1-22.</p> + +<p>Hart—<i>American History Told by Contemporaries</i>, I, 382-387.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Harrison—<i>The Stars and Stripes</i>, 60-64.</p> + +<p>Horner—<i>The American Flag</i>.</p> + +<p>Schauffler—<i>Flag Day</i>, 50-58 and 61-66.</p> + +<p>Tappan—<i>The Little Book of the Flag</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span></p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Brooks—<i>Century Book of the American Revolution</i>, 87-89.</p> + +<p>Hemstreet—<i>The Story of Manhattan</i>.</p> + +<p>Ullmann—<i>Landmark History of New York</i>.</p> + +<p>Wilson—<i>New York Old and New</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Bouvé—<i>American Heroes and Heroines</i>, 120-128.</p> + +<p>Brooks—<i>Century Book of the American Revolution</i>, 130-135.</p> + +<p><i>Journal of American History</i>, 5:84 (1911).</p> + +<p>Stockton—<i>Stories of New Jersey</i>.</p> + +<p>Sweetser—<i>Ten American Girls from History</i>, 71-85.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Brooks—<i>Dames and Daughters of Colonial Days</i>, 133-167.</p> + +<p>Herbert—<i>The First American—His Homes and His Households</i>.</p> + +<p>Lossing—<i>Mary and Martha Washington</i>.</p> + +<p>Wharton—<i>Martha Washington</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Brady—<i>Border Fights and Fighters</i>, 151-163.</p> + +<p>Purcell—<i>Stories of Old Kentucky</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Brooks—<i>First across the Continent</i>.</p> + +<p>Dye—<i>The Conquest</i>.</p> + +<p>Holland—<i>Historic Adventures</i>, 21-58.</p> + +<p><i>Journal of American History</i>, I:468 (1907).</p> + +<p>Laut—<i>Pathfinders of the West</i>.</p> + +<p>Lewis and Clark—<i>Journals</i>.</p> + +<p>Schultz—<i>Bird Woman</i> (written by a man adopted by the Blackfeet +Indians, from accounts given him by friends of Sacajawea).</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Bolton—<i>Famous Leaders among Women</i>, 123-158.</p> + +<p>Bouvé—<i>American Heroes and Heroines</i>, 171-180.</p> + +<p>Brooks—<i>Dames and Daughters of the Young Republic</i>, 1-42.</p> + +<p>Holland—<i>Historic Girlhoods</i>, 203-216.</p> + +<p>Madison—<i>Memoirs and Letters</i>.</p> + +<p>Tappan—<i>American Hero Stories</i>, 224-230.</p> + +<p>Todd—<i>The Story of Washington</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Bolton—<i>Girls Who Became Famous</i>, 33-49.</p> + +<p>Foster, ed.—<i>Heroines of Modern Religion</i>, 88-114.</p> + +<p>Hallowell—<i>James and Lucretia Mott—Life and Letters</i>.</p> + +<p>Morris—<i>Heroes of Progress in America</i>, 219-225.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Adams and Foster—<i>Heroines of Modern Progress</i>, 89-119.</p> + +<p>Bolton—<i>Girls Who Became Famous</i>, 1-17.</p> + +<p>Crowe—<i>Harriet Beecher Stowe: Biography for Girls</i>.</p> + +<p>Fields—<i>Life and Letters of Harriet Beecher Stowe</i>.</p> + +<p>Stowe—<i>Life of Harriet Beecher Stowe</i> (by her son).</p> + +<p>Wright—<i>Children’s Stories in American Literature</i>, 188-202.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Adams and Foster—<i>Heroines of Modern Progress</i>, 178-214.</p> + +<p>Bolton—<i>Famous Leaders among Women</i>, 272-303.</p> + +<p>Bristol—<i>Life of Chaplain McCabe</i>, 192-203.</p> + +<p>Howe—<i>Reminiscences</i>.</p> + +<p>Parkman—<i>Heroines of Service</i>, 117-147.</p> + +<p>Richards and Elliott—<i>Julia Ward Howe</i> (by her daughters).</p> + +<p>Wade—<i>The Light Bringers</i>, 142-171.</p> + +<p>Wright—<i>Children’s Stories in American Literature</i>, book 2, +212-221.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Bolton—<i>Girls Who Became Famous</i>, 50-67.</p> + +<p>Livermore—<i>My Story of the War</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span></p> + +<p>Livermore—<i>The Story of My Life</i>, chapter 28.</p> + +<p><i>Our Famous Women</i>, 386-414.</p> + +<p>Whiting—<i>Women Who Have Ennobled Life</i>, 53-85.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Bookman</i>, 13:418 (1901).</p> + +<p><i>Pennsylvania German</i>, 1906.</p> + +<p><i>Southern Historical Society Papers</i>, vol. 27.</p> +</div> + + +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Adams and Foster—<i>Heroines of Modern Progress</i>, 149-177.</p> + +<p>Barton—<i>The Red Cross in Peace and War</i>.</p> + +<p>Bolton—<i>Successful Women</i>, 198-223.</p> + +<p>Epler—<i>Life of Clara Barton</i>.</p> + +<p>Parkman—<i>Heroines of Service</i>, 59-85.</p> + +<p>Sweetser—<i>Ten American Girls from History</i>, 143-173.</p> + +<p>Wade—<i>The Light Bringers</i>, 64-111.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span></p> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX">INDEX</h2> +</div> + + +<ul class="index"> +<li class="ifrst"> Barton, Clara:</li> +<li class="isub2">nurse at eleven, <a href="#Page_190">190-1</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">success as teacher, <a href="#Page_191">191-3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">cares for first wounded soldiers in Civil War, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">distributes supplies, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">receives permission to go to front, <a href="#Page_195">195-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">war record, <a href="#Page_196">196-201</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">appointed to search for missing, <a href="#Page_201">201-2</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">serves under Red Cross in Franco-Prussian War, <a href="#Page_203">203-4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">starts Red Cross in America, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">its president for twenty-two years, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">service in disasters, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">honors paid her, <a href="#Page_205">205-6</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> <i>Battle Hymn of the Republic</i>, <a href="#Page_159">159-63</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Beecher, Henry Ward, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Bishop (Washington’s body-servant), <a href="#Page_56">56-8</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Burr, Aaron, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104-5</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Chaboneau, Toussaint, <a href="#Page_81">81-7</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96-8</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Dale, Governor, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Declaration of Independence, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Fritchie, Barbara:</li> +<li class="isub2">saw four wars, <a href="#Page_179">179-82</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marriage, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">her loyalty and faith when Civil War broke out, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">troops in Fredericksburg, <a href="#Page_182">182-3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">different versions of flag story, <a href="#Page_183">183-5</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">Whittier’s poem, <a href="#Page_186">186-8</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Fugitive slave law, <a href="#Page_128">128-9</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138-40</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Garrison, William Lloyd, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Hamilton, Alexander, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Harlem, battle of, <a href="#Page_45">45-6</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> Howe, General, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43-6</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Howe, Julia Ward:</li> +<li class="isub2">ancestry, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">carefully educated, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">a social favorite, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marriage, <a href="#Page_156">156-7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">longed to help in Civil War, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">how the <i>Battle Hymn of the Republic</i> was written, <a href="#Page_159">159-60</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">how Chaplain McCabe popularized it, <a href="#Page_161">161-2</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Hutchinson, Anne:</li> +<li class="isub2">voyage to America, <a href="#Page_18">18-9</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">popularity, <a href="#Page_20">20-1</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">her meetings for women, <a href="#Page_21">21-3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">church and state, <a href="#Page_22">22-4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">trial and banishment, <a href="#Page_24">24-8</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">massacred by Indians, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Jackson, Stonewall, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Jamestown colony, <a href="#Page_7">7-11</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16-7</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Johnson, Jemima:</li> +<li class="isub2">Indians attack frontier settlement, <a href="#Page_72">72-3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">imperative need of water, <a href="#Page_74">74-5</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">volunteers to bring it, <a href="#Page_75">75-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">scheme succeeds, <a href="#Page_76">76-7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">attack repulsed, <a href="#Page_77">77-8</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Jones, Paul, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Lafayette, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Lewis and Clark Expedition, <a href="#Page_81">81-5</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89-96</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Libby Prison, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Lincoln, Abraham, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201-2</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Livermore, Mary A.:</li> +<li class="isub2">first-hand experience with slavery, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">helped husband in church and editorial work, <a href="#Page_165">165-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">organized and systematized relief work of Northwest, <a href="#Page_167">167-72</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">Sanitary fairs, <a href="#Page_172">172-4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">first public speech, <a href="#Page_175">175-7</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> McCabe, Chaplain, <a href="#Page_161">161-2</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Madison, Dolly:</li> +<li class="isub2">girlhood in Virginia and Philadelphia, <a href="#Page_101">101-2</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marries John Todd, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">death of husband and baby, <a href="#Page_103">103-4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">popularity, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marries Madison, <a href="#Page_105">105-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span>mistress of White House for sixteen years, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">British attack Washington, <a href="#Page_108">108-11</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">saves Stuart portrait of Washington and Declaration of</li> +<li class="isub4">Independence, <a href="#Page_110">110-1</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">adventures in flight from city, <a href="#Page_111">111-3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">homage paid her, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Madison, James, <a href="#Page_104">104-8</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112-4</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Martineau, Harriet, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Mataoka, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Monmouth, battle of, <a href="#Page_50">50-2</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Morris, Robert, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Mott, Lucretia:</li> +<li class="isub2">childhood at Nantucket, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">early interest in slavery, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">preaches in Quaker meeting-houses, <a href="#Page_117">117-20</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126-7</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">member of anti-slavery societies, <a href="#Page_120">120-1</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">delegate to London convention, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">excluded from its meetings, <a href="#Page_121">121-2</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">abused and attacked, <a href="#Page_123">123-7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">her part in Dangerfield trial, <a href="#Page_128">128-9</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">pioneer work for abolition, <a href="#Page_130">130-1</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Mount Vernon, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66-8</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Murray, Mary Lindley:</li> +<li class="isub2">delays Howe’s march across Manhattan Island, <a href="#Page_43">43-5</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">saves patriot army, <a href="#Page_45">45-6</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Phillips, Wendell, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Pitcher, Molly (Mary Ludwig Hays):</li> +<li class="isub2">childhood on farm, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">accompanies husband to war, <a href="#Page_48">48-50</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">carries water for soldiers, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">takes husband’s place at cannon, <a href="#Page_51">51-2</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">honors given her, <a href="#Page_52">52-4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">monument, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Pocahontas:</li> +<li class="isub2">saves John Smith, <a href="#Page_4">4-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">how she got her name, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">befriends Jamestown colony, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">taken prisoner, <a href="#Page_8">8-10</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marries Rolfe, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">visits England, <a href="#Page_12">12-5</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span>descendants, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Powhatan, <a href="#Page_2">2-6</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8-13</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Putnam, Israel, <a href="#Page_41">41-6</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Red Cross, <a href="#Page_202">202-6</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Rolfe, John, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Ross, Betsy:</li> +<li class="isub2">apprenticed, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marriage, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">reputation as needlewoman, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">widowed, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">five-pointed star, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">her flag adopted by Congress, <a href="#Page_35">35-7</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Ross, Colonel George, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Sacajawea (Bird-woman):</li> +<li class="isub2">taken prisoner, <a href="#Page_80">80-1</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marries Chaboneau, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">meets Lewis and Clark, <a href="#Page_81">81-2</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">engaged as interpreter, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">birth of son, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">heroine of expedition, <a href="#Page_83">83-4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">saves papers and instruments, <a href="#Page_84">84-5</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">illness, <a href="#Page_85">85-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">escape from cloudburst, <a href="#Page_86">86-7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">guides expedition, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92-3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">meets friend and brother, <a href="#Page_89">89-90</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">persuades tribe to help white men, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">bargaining with Indians, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">resourcefulness, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">rapid return trip, <a href="#Page_95">95-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">bids farewell to leaders, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">later years and death on Indian reservation, <a href="#Page_98">98-9</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">memorials, <a href="#Page_99">99-100</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Sanitary Commission, <a href="#Page_168">168-72</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Smith, John, <a href="#Page_2">2-8</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Stars and Stripes, <a href="#Page_34">34-7</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Stowe, Harriet Beecher:</li> +<li class="isub2">early interest in compositions, <a href="#Page_133">133-4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">moves to Cincinnati, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marries Professor Stowe, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">discussions over slavery, <a href="#Page_135">135-7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">her own experiences with negroes, <a href="#Page_136">136-7</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141-2</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">writing, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">excitement over fugitive slave bill, <a href="#Page_138">138-9</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span>how <i>Uncle Tom’s Cabin</i> was written, <a href="#Page_139">139-43</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">its reception and results, <a href="#Page_144">144-9</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">translations, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">trip to England, <a href="#Page_149">149-50</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">helps change public sentiment in England during Civil War, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> <i>Uncle Tom’s Cabin</i>, <a href="#Page_139">139-50</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Valley Forge, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64-6</a>.</li> + + +<li class="ifrst"> Washington, George, <a href="#Page_32">32-5</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, + <a href="#Page_49">49-54</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56-71</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110-1</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Washington, Martha:</li> +<li class="isub2">education, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">first meeting with Washington, <a href="#Page_56">56-7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">marriage, <a href="#Page_57">57-8</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">life at Mt. Vernon, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">interest in public affairs, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69-70</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">patriotic sacrifices, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63-4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">winters spent at headquarters, <a href="#Page_61">61-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">work for soldiers, <a href="#Page_63">63-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">at Valley Forge, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64-6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub2">first lady of the land, <a href="#Page_68">68-71</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Whittier, John G., <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186-8</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Williams, Roger, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"> Winthrop, John, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24-7</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76056 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/76056-h/images/001.jpg b/76056-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc4d38c --- /dev/null +++ b/76056-h/images/001.jpg diff --git a/76056-h/images/cover.jpg b/76056-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..86124a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/76056-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5dba15 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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