 In this little book I am going to tell you about some of the women who have been famous in the past. There are perhaps many names more famous than those I have chosen, but it was not always the best women who were the most talked about. In the past it was seldom that any woman, who was not a royal lady or some great aristocrat, became known to the world. In the early days of Christianity many women suffered bravely for their faith and later in the convents there were studious nuns who became known for their learning. In the account of St. Hilda you will read of one of the most famous of these. But most women were busy in keeping their houses and had to do many things which no woman would dream of doing now. Cloth and linen had to be woven at home. Simple medicines and ointments were made by the great ladies, who had often to act as doctors as well as nurses. Only few women had any book learning, and it was long before it was thought desirable for a woman to learn to write. When good schools were started for boys few people thought it desirable to do anything for the education of girls. It was not till the nineteenth century that a change began, and that people as a rule began to think that as girls had minds as well as boys it was as well to give them the chance of learning. When you read about Mrs. Somerville you will see how great was the change in their lifetime. No one troubled to teach her when she was a child, but before her death the first colleges for women were founded at Cambridge. Joan of Kent is an example of the aimless life led by a great lady in the Middle Ages who was kindly and beloved, but did not know how to make her life of use to others. Margaret Beaumont was also a great lady, and might have spent her days in pleasure, but the experiences of her life made her serious and she used her life and her money in the service of others. Since their day there have been many great ladies who have been like one or other of these two. The first way in which women who had no great position in the world made themselves famous was by their care for the poor and the suffering. What such women could do, and there have been many of them, is seen in the lives of Elizabeth Fry, Sister Dora, and Florence Nightingale. Other women have given their lives to sharing the sorrows and anxieties of their husbands, and by their love and devotion have been their greatest help in difficult times. These are seldom known to fame, but we see examples of them in Lady Rachel Howard and Lady Ingalls. But whilst most women would always choose a quiet home life, there are others of whom Mrs. Bishop is an example who are filled with the spirit of adventure and like to face difficulties and see new things. It is not possible in one small book to give examples of all the different kinds of women who have lived for the service of others. I should like to have told you something about the women doctors, the great women teachers, the women writers and novelists. From all their lives you would learn one lesson which is set forth clearly in the life of Queen Victoria. Nothing worth doing is done without a great deal of trouble. The ruler of a great empire has to work as hard as any girl in a factory, and Queen Victoria is known as a great queen, not because she had talents above other women, but simply because she set herself to do her duty in the position in which God had placed her. In that we can all imitate her. But what shall I say about the one woman in our book who is not English, the maid of France? She seems to me to stand apart from all other women like a beautiful vision for our delight and reverence. But she is like all other good women in this, that she did the thing that lay before her. Without fear and perfect simplicity, she took up the task to which she felt she was called and went straight on without looking back even to death. We do not know what work may be asked from women in the future, but the same spirit will still be needed, the capacity to take trouble, the readiness to do difficult things when duty calls, and the gentle spirit of love which in spite of all her learning made Mrs. Somerville a better wife and mother than most, even of those who have devoted themselves entirely to their domestic duties. End of Section 1. Section 2 of Some Famous Women by Louise Creighton. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Pamela Nagami. Chapter 1. St. Hilda Amongst our forefathers, the wild German tribes who conquered Britain and made it England, women had always held an honorable place. This made it possible for them in the days when the Christian faith was first preached in England to do a great deal to help the work of the Church. They did not have to spend their days in fighting like the men, and they were eager to listen to the new teaching which showed the many different ways of serving God and helping their fellow creatures. Probably it was the Christian wife of Ethelbert, King of Kent, a French princess, who helped to make him willing to listen to Augustine the missionary sent from Rome by the Pope to convert the English. Kent was the first of the English kingdoms to become Christian. In the northern part of England, there was a great king called Edwin, who ruled over Northumbria and had his capital at York. He seems to have heard much in praise of one of Ethelbert's daughters, Ethelberga, who was so beloved in her family that they called her Tata the Darling. Edwin sent messengers to ask Ethelberga's brother, Edbalt, who had succeeded his father as king, to give him his sister in marriage. But Edbalt said that he could not give his sister to a heathen. Edwin would not be refused. He sent messengers again and said that if only he might have Ethelberga as his wife, he would allow her to worship in her own way and would be willing to adopt her faith if on hearing more about it his wise men should decide that it was better than his own. So Ethelberga was sent to York with Bishop Polinus as her chaplain. Edwin was true to his word. He treated Polinus kindly, and after a while listened to his teaching, and when he had consulted his wise men, and they too were willing, he decided to be baptized. Quickly a little wooden chapel was built on the spot where now stands the Great Minster of York, and within its walls Edwin and many others were taught the Christian faith. On Easter Eve, in the year 627, he was baptized. Many of his nobles as well as members of his family were baptized with him. Amongst them was a young girl, his great-niece, the princess Hilda, then 14 years old. We do not know anything about Hilda's life as a child, nor for some years after her baptism. Her mother and her sister were also early converts to Christianity. In some way, Hilda must have continued her Christian education. Most probably she lived at a religious settlement in the North, and was busy in some sort of work for the church. In those days, all girls either married or entered a convent of some kind. Hilda, a member of a royal family which certainly had been sought in marriage, had it not been known that she had in some way given herself to a religious life. Many royal ladies were founders of convents. They received grants of land from their fathers or brothers, and gathered round them those who wished to live in peace, away from all the fighting and disturbance of the world. Many royal ladies retired into convents after their husband's death, or sometimes even during their husband's lifetime. In the convents they could study or do beautiful embroidery for the churches, care for the sick and aged or teach the children. It was considered the holiest life that a woman could lead. Those men too, who wished to lead quiet lives and to spend their days in study rather than in fighting, could only do so by retiring into a convent. If it had not been for the convents in early times, there would have been no books, no learning, no art or industry. It was by the people who lived in the convents that the land was drained and cultivated, and that sheep and oxen were reared. France had become Christian earlier than England, so there were more famous convents there, and ladies belonging to the English royal families used to go over to the French convents to be educated and often retired to them to end their days. We are not told that Hilda was sent to a French convent to be educated, but her sister, Harris Whitha, who had married the King of East Anglia, went after his death to a French convent, and Hilda prepared to join her there. Hilda was by this time thirty-three. All that we know of her life since her baptism is what the old Northumbrian historian Bede tells us, that she lived very nobly among her family and fellow citizens. Somehow her virtues and gifts attracted the notice of Aden, the holy bishop of Lindisfarne, who was working with zeal and devotion to win the wild people of the North for Christ. He seems to have been Hilda's friend and advisor, and he wanted her help in his work. When he heard that she was thinking of going to join her sister in France, he begged her to remain among her own people and to help them. Hilda yielded to his wishes, and she first settled down with a few companions on the river where. But soon afterwards she was called, in the year 647, to be head of a convent in Hartlepool, which had been founded some years before and was the first convent for women in that part of England. Those were very anxious days. There had been Christian kings in Northumbria, who had made it into a great and strong kingdom, and with the help of Aden and other holy men, had made the people Christian and brought peace into the land. But the Northumbrian kings were attacked by Penda, the last great heathen king in England, a fierce and mighty fighter, and it seemed at times as if he would utterly destroy the power of the Christian kings. Hilda in her quiet convent must have waited anxiously for the news that came of the fighting between Azwe, the king of Northumbria, and Penda, who with his great army of fierce fighters seemed to rush like a torrent over the country. It was eight years after she had gone to Hartlepool that Azwe, with a much smaller army, utterly routed Penda's great host in a battle in which the fierce old heathen king was himself killed. Before the battle Azwe had sworn that if he gained the victory he would give his infant daughter to God, and he now sent his little Alfred, not yet a year old, to his kin's woman Hilda to bring up in her convent. With his daughter he gave also a rich gift of land, so that Hilda might be able to extend her work. The little Alfred was a great delight to Hilda and grew up to be her dearest companion and fellow worker. Hilda had done much at Hartlepool. She had learnt all she could from wise men as to how to order a convent. Aden and all the religious men who knew her used to visit her constantly. They were glad to teach her all they knew, and they loved her dearly because of her wisdom and her delight in the service of God. In those days the work that women could do for the church was highly esteemed, and the apices who ruled over the convent were very important people. They had to manage large estates as well as to order all the different kinds of work that were carried on in the convent. Many of them were very learned women, and we know of Hilda that she was always eager to learn and knew well how to teach others what she had learnt. After she had spent some years at Hartlepool she decided to found a new convent on some of the lands that had been granted to her by King Oswe. She chose a beautiful spot, on the top of a high cliff overlooking the sea at the mouth of the River Esk. This spot was afterwards called Whitby, and by that name Hilda's famous Abbey is best known. But though in later times a beautiful Abbey church was built there, the ruins of which are still standing, all that Hilda could build was a rude little church made of split trunks of trees thatched with rushes. Round the church stood the huts in which Hilda and her nuns lived, with their kitchen and their dining hall. Farther off but still in the enclosure of the convent were huts in which monks lived, for in those early days it often happened that men and women joined together to found one convent. The monks and the nuns lived apart, but Hilda ruled over all of them alike. Some of the monks tilled the fields belonging to the convent, and there were barns and farm buildings as well as rooms for writing and study. Over all these different men and women, Hilda ruled firmly and wisely. They were all treated alike. There was no one in her convent who was rich and no one who was poor, for those who came there gave all their possessions into the common store. Hilda so ruled that peace and charity prevailed amongst them all. All who knew her called her mother because of her singular piety and grace, and the fame of her virtue spread far and wide. She loved learning and wished all to study and made them give much time to the reading of the Bible. Her own wisdom and prudence were so well known that many people and amongst them even kings and princes came to her for advice in their difficulties. Amongst those who studied at Whitby many grew afterwards to be famous, and five of those who had lived under Hilda's rule became bishops of the church. But of all the dwellers at Whitby the most famous was one who had begun life simply as one of the workers on the farm, the sweet singer Cadman. In those days at feasts it was the custom for one after another to be asked for a song, and the harp was passed round the table each taking it in turn and accompanying himself whilst he sang. Cadman thought that he could not sing, and when he saw that his turn was coming near he used to get up and quietly leave the table and go home. One day he had left the feast in this way and gone to the stable where it was his duty that night to take care of the horses. Having done his work he settled himself to sleep. And in the night one stood by his side and calling to him said, Cadman, sing some song to me. He answered, I cannot sing, for that reason I left the feast and withdrew to this place because I cannot sing. But he who stood by his side answered, however you shall sing. What shall I sing, asked Cadman, and the answer came. Sing the beginning of created beings. Then in his dream he sang in praise of God the Creator with words which he had never heard before. When he awoke he remembered what he had sung and added more verses to those which had come to him in his dream. He told the steward who was set over him of this gift of song that had been granted to him in his sleep and the steward took him to the Abbas Hilda. She bade him in the presence of herself and of several learned men, repeat the verses which he had made, and they all decided that it must be through the grace of God that this gift had come to him. They explained to him a passage from the Bible and bade him go away and turn it into verse. Next morning he came back and recited to them the excellent verses which he had made. Then Hilda bade him give up his work on the farm and come into the convent and become a monk. Then he might devote himself to cultivating the gift of song which he had received. She directed some of the brethren to teach him the sacred history contained in the Bible that he might turn it into song. After they had taught him, Cadman would think over all that he had heard, turning it over in his mind as the couch used the cud till he brought it out again as harmony as verse which he would sweetly repeat to his masters who now in their turn became his hearers. He sang of the creation and of the doings of the people of Israel and of the life and sufferings of the Lord Jesus Christ and tried by his poems to lead men to love virtue and hate vice. Through his sweet singing great fame came to Hilda's convent and after some years he died there in great peace and holiness. We are not told whether Hilda was able as time went on to build a more stately church in place of the rough wooden one which she had at first put up, but it seems most likely considering the fame of her abbey that she must have done so. She probably was friendly with Benedict Biskup, the abbot of Wehrmuth, which was also in the north of England. Benedict Biskup had made many journeys to France and Italy and he first brought to England glass windows and beautiful vestments for his church as well as skilled masons and glass workers from France who taught their craft to the Northumbrians. We cannot doubt that Hilda, with her energy and her wisdom, got some of these men to come and teach her people also how to put up beautiful buildings. Perhaps Benedict Biskup may have given her some of the treasures, vestments, pictures, or vessels for the church services which he had brought back with him. The fame and importance of the abbey of Whitby is shown by the fact that it was chosen as the spot in which to hold a great council of the church in 664. When many bishops met with King Oswe to settle matters of great importance for the whole church in England, Hilda had to care for the entertainment of this great gathering and take part in their discussions. They had met to decide whether in certain matters the customs of the Church of Rome or the customs of the Church in Northumbria should be followed. Hilda was in favor of the customs of Northumbria, but when King Oswe decided that it would be better to do as the rest of the Church did, she was wise enough to give in to his decision, seeing that these were matters which concerned only the order and not the teaching of the Church. We know that Hilda founded at least one other convent herself, and several others were founded in different parts of England in imitation of the great abbey of Whitby. For many years she ruled her convent with wisdom and diligence. At the end of her life she was called to bear the trial of a long illness. For six years she lay ill, but during all that time whenever possible she would still teach those under her rule. She bade them serve God dutifully when they were in perfect health and always return thanks to him, even when in trouble or suffering. How to do this she showed by her own example, for all through her long sickness she never failed to return thanks to God. When at last she felt death drawing near she gathered all the inmates of her convent around her and having bidden them to live in peace with one another and with all others she joyfully welcomed death who came to take her from her sufferings to new life. She died in 680 at the age of 66. Elflade, the daughter of King Oswe, who as an infant had been confided to Hilda's care, succeeded her as Abbas. Hilda was honored as a saint by the church after her death. On the 19th of March 1329 a great English noble Edmund Earl of Kent would be headed outside the walls of Winchester. He was the youngest son of one of England's noblest kings, Edward I. But he was a weak vain man, and in the troublest days which followed Edward I's death he had been used first by one party and then by another until he had made many enemies and kept few friends. The wicked Queen Isabella who had allowed her foolish husband Edward II to be murdered and ruled the country with her favorite Mortimer in the name of her young son, Edward III, hated the Earl of Kent. She vowed his ruin and had him convicted of treason. Men did not love Kent, but it was thought a terrible thing that the son of Edward I should perish like a traitor. Though he was condemned to death no one dared lift their hand against him and from morning till evening the great Earl waited, till a condemned criminal consented to win his own pardon by cutting off the Earl's head. Kent's youngest child, the Little Joan, was then only a year old and two years afterwards Philippa, Queen of Edward III moved with compassion for her desolate state, took her under her care to bring her up at her court. Many stories told of Queen Philippa show the kindness of her heart and we cannot doubt that the Little Joan was happy under her care. She grew up in the court of Edward III which after his successful wars in France became one of the most magnificent in Europe. Life was a ceaseless round of festivities and gayities. Rich booty was brought back from the French wars and the English ladies copied the extravagant fashions of the French. We read of the feather beds with gorgeous hangings which were used, of the rich furs, of the velvet robes embroidered in silk and pearls, of the trailing dresses which lay in heaps upon the ground in front as well as behind. Joan grew up to be a very beautiful girl and to be very fond of fine clothes. She is said to have been full of charm and to have been clever and brilliant as well. The king's eldest son, Edward, afterwards known as the Black Prince, was two years younger than she and growing up together they seemed to have learned to love one another. It was natural that Joan, who is described as the most beautiful and the most lovable of all the maidens of England, should have had many suitors. Her heart was won by Sir Thomas Holland but whilst he was away at the wars the Earl of Salisbury tried to win her as his wife. When Holland came back he petitioned the pope to affirm his right to Joan's hand and after both sides had been heard, judgment was given that Joan was the wife of Holland. She was then just twenty-one and shortly afterwards as both her brothers died she became her father's heiress and countess of Kent. Her husband was given various appointments in France and Joan went there with him several times. She always surrounded herself with luxury of every kind and spent a great deal of money on dress. Holland died in thirteen sixty leaving her still beautiful and charming with three children. She was at once sought in marriage by many suitors but she would listen to none of them. An old writer tells us that one day the Black Prince visited her and tried to persuade her to accept one of these suitors who was a friend of his. She constantly refused and at last answered weeping that she had given herself to the most noble knight under heaven and that for love of him she would have no other husband as long as she lived but that she knew that he could never be hers. Then the Prince implored her to tell him who this most noble knight was and when she would not speak he went down on his knees saying that if she would not tell him he would be her mortal enemy. At last he rung from her the confession that it was he himself whom she meant and when he heard this he was filled with love for her and vowed that he would never have any other wife so long as he lived. Edward was then thirty years of age and had refused many princely offers of marriage. Perhaps he'd never forgotten the beautiful cousin who had grown up with him and now when she was free he rejoiced to make her his. It is said that Edward III was very displeased when he heard that his son had made a marriage contract with Joan but that Queen Philippa who had always loved her tenderly took her part. However this may be we know that they were married by the Archbishop of Canterbury at Windsor in the presence of the King only ten months after the death of Joan's first husband. The marriage took place in October and they went afterwards to the Prince's castle at Burkhamstead where they spent Christmas. In those days a great part of France was under the rule of the King of England and the knights and ladies of the Fair Duchy of Aquitaine which had belonged to the Kings of England since the day when it had come to Henry II through his wife Eleanor asked Edward III to send his son to rule over them. The Black Prince was famous for his courage and for the great victories he had won in battle against the King of France. Edward III thought it only right that his son should have a distinguished position and he appointed him Prince of Aquitaine. Then the Black Prince and Joan made great preparations for their departure for they were determined to have a magnificent court in Aquitaine and to take with them many English knights and nobles. The English Parliament found it difficult to provide the large sums of money needed for the luxurious lives of Edward III and his sons. It was hoped that Aquitaine would be able to provide for the needs of the Black Prince and his wife but they spent so much before their departure and entertaining the King in court for Christmas at their castle and in supplying themselves with clothes and furniture and all things needed for their journey that they left England deeply in debt. Early in the year 1363 they landed at La Rochelle and were received by a great company of knights and gentlemen who welcomed them with much joy. Four days were spent at La Rochelle in feastings and merriment and then they set out on their journey to Bordeaux. At every town through which they passed they were received by all the nobles of the neighbourhood who crowded to do homage to the Prince. Aquitaine was a rich and flourishing country covered with vineyards and carried on a vigorous wine trade with England. The Prince set up his court at Bordeaux and it soon became the most brilliant court in Europe. Both the Prince and Princess were alike in being very extravagant and in loving fine clothes and merry-making. Those were the days of chivalry when the knights were brave and courteous to one another and loved jousts and tournaments in which they fought together in the presence of noble ladies and the winner received the prize for his valor from the hand of a fair lady. But in their pursuit of pleasure the Princes and Nobles forgot their duties as wise rulers. As long as they could win fame for themselves and get enough money for their wars and their luxuries they cared very little for the well-being of the people. In the Black Prince's court at Bordeaux the pride and magnificence and neglect of the needs of the people which were the weakness of chivalry showed themselves most clearly. The Black Prince was a noble host and he made everyone around him happy. Eighty knights and four times as many squires feasted every day at his table. The Princess never showed herself except surrounded by many ladies and fair maidens. The luxury of their dress and strange new fashions in which their clothes were cut and their wonderful head dresses embroidered with pearls shocked the people who had been accustomed to simpler and severer manners. The Princess seems never to have remembered that the money to pay for all these luxuries had to be wrung by taxation from the people. In other ways she ever showed herself warm-hearted and generous and herself on one occasion pleaded with one of the Nobles to diminish the ransom due to him from a prisoner taken in war. The joyous life at Bordeaux was crowned by the birth of a son. Soon afterwards there began to be talk of war with Spain and it was decided that the Black Prince should lead an expedition there. Great was the despair of the Princess when she heard that he was to go. The old chronicler tells us that she lamented bitterly saying, Alas, what will happen to me if I shall lose the true flower of gentleness, the flower of magnanimity, him who in the world has no equal for courage. I have no heart, no blood, no veins, but every member fails me when I think of his departure. But when the Prince heard her lamentations he comforted her and said, Lady, cease your lament and be not dismayed, for God is able to do all things. He took a sleeve of her very tenderly and said lovingly, Lady, we shall meet again in such case that we shall have joy both we and all our friends, for my heart tells me this. Then they embraced with many tears and all the dames and damsels of the court wept also, some weeping for their lovers, some for their husbands. Shortly before the Prince's departure Joan had given birth to a second son, Richard, called Richard of Bordeaux from the place of his birth, who afterwards became King Richard II. The Black Prince was away in Spain for a year. He was victorious in the war and on his return he was magnificently welcomed at Bordeaux. A solemn procession of priests bearing crosses came out to meet him, followed by the Princess with her elder son, then three years old, surrounded by her ladies and her knights. They were full of joy at their meeting, and after tenderly embracing they walked hand in hand to their palace. For the moment all seemed happy. But it soon appeared that the Prince had come back tired and worn out. He had succeeded in Spain but the cause for which he had fought was not a just one. The people of Aquitaine were discontented because of the heavy taxes they had to pay to keep up his luxurious court. It seemed to his enemies a good moment to attack him, and the King of France anxious to win back some of the lands that he had lost declared war against the English. When the war began the Black Prince was helpless with illness. He was so furious with the French that he had himself carried in the litter to attack them and for the first time he showed himself cruel to the people he conquered. Everything seemed to go wrong. Their eldest son died to the great grief of the Prince and Princess, and at last the Prince was so ill that he had to give up the command of his army to his brother John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, and returned to England. It was a sad coming home, very different from their joyous setting out for France. In England too things were going badly. The King was old and the people were discontented because of the extravagance of the court and the nobles. The Black Prince and his wife retired to their castle at Burkhamstead. He was afflicted with a grievous malady and suffered terribly, but he interested himself in the affairs of the country and supported the parliament, which was trying to remedy some of the abuses of the government. In order to do this he moved up to London to the royal palace at Westminster. It was there that he died after four years of illness and suffering. He commended his wife and his little son Richard to the care of his father and brothers and begged his followers that as they had served him so they would serve his little son. The princess was brokenhearted at her husband's death and bewailed herself with bitter tears and lamentations. She was named Guardian of her little son Richard, who was then ten years old. He was made Prince of Wales and declared heir to the throne, and only a year passed before at his grandfather's death he became King of England. Those were anxious days in England. The country was worn out with the expenses of long wars and of an extravagant court. The people had suffered from a terrible pestilence called the Black Death. Everywhere there was want and scarcity which led to bitter discontent. The boy king was surrounded by his uncles, ambitious men who each wished to be the chief power in the country. His mother, the Princess Joan, does not seem to have had any ambition to take part in public affairs. We do not hear of her mixing herself up in any of the intrigues that went on round the little king. Only once or twice she seems to have come forward to make peace. She is said to have been interested in the teaching of John Wycliffe, a learned clergyman. Disgusted with the corruption of many of the clergy, he was trying to teach a purer faith, and he had translated the Bible into English so that even the unlearned might read it. But we hear so little about Joan that it is clear that she must have lived very quietly during these troubled days. The discontent of the people at last led the peasants to rise and revolt in many parts of the country, and to march on London in order to get redressed for their wrongs. Princess Joan had been on a pilgrimage to Canterbury where the Black Prince lay buried, when on her way back she fell in on crossing Blackheath with a crowd of the rebels. The rough men surrounded her but the charm and beauty which she still possessed won their respect and the protection of their leaders. It is said that after asking her for some kisses they allowed her to pass on her way unharmed. She went to join her son in the tower. Richard, then a boy of fifteen, was not frightened by the rebels who swarmed around the tower and asked that the king should come out and hear their grievances. He rode out with one or two followers and went to meet the rebels at Mile End where he promised all that they asked him. But whilst he was away another band of rebels broke into the tower. They forced their way into the princess's room and treated her with rough familiarity and rudeness. They plunged daggers into her bed to see if anything was hidden there and terrified her so much that she fainted. Then her ladies carried her away and conveyed her in an open boat across the river to a house belonging to the king called the Wardrobe and there Richard joined her. Meanwhile the rebels had seized and murdered the archbishop, the chief minister of the king. In the end the rebels were put down after much bloodshed. Richard II seems to have had the charm and beauty of his mother and as a boy at least the courage of his father but he did not grow up to be a wise king. He quarreled with his powerful uncle John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster who was suspected of wishing to make himself king and John angry with his nephew shut himself up in his castle at Pontefract. The princess Joan was ill and had grown so stout that traveling was very difficult for her. But in spite of her sufferings she made several journeys to Pontefract to see John of Gaunt and at last succeeded in reconciling him with Richard. Richard treated her with great respect and when he went away to make war in Scotland he appointed five noble gentlemen to stay with her for her protection wherever she chose to live. But she could not always persuade him to do as she wished. Her son by her first marriage, John Holland, had a quarrel with another gentleman and slew him treacherously. Richard to punish him seized his lands and when Joan implored his pardon refused to listen to her. This so grieved her that she fell ill and died whilst Richard was away in Scotland. In her will she asked to be buried near her first husband in the church at Stamford and there on Richard's return her funeral took place. The quarrels between her son and his uncles which she had tried to heal grew worse after her death till they ended in the deposition of Richard and the choice of John of Gaunt's son Henry as king. Joan was not in any way a great woman but we feel that there must have been something uncommon about her beauty and her charm for the memory of it to have lasted as it did. It was some time after her death that the name of the fair maid of Kent was given her. She is an example of the great lady of those days, kindly, generous, loving, brave men, trying to promote peace and kindness but extravagant and pleasure seeking. No evil is told of her and she seems to have loved both her husbands dearly and to have won their love in return. On January 6th, probably in the year 1412, John Dark was born in Dom Rémy, a little village in Lorraine, the great duchy which lies on the eastern frontier of France. John's father was a hard-working peasant. He owned horses and cattle and was one of the most respected inhabitants of his village. There were no village schools in those days and John never learned to read and write. Her mother taught her the creed and her prayers as well as sewing and the work about the house. Like other peasant girls, she plowed and worked in the fields and took care of the cattle. She played with the other children and used to dance and weave garlands with them. Best of all, she loved to go into the little church and pray so that sometimes the other children laughed at her for her piety. She used to nurse the sick and would even lie all night upon the hearth in order to give up her bed to some poor person. France was at this time in a most troubled state. The whole land was divided into two parties, the Burgundians and the Arminyaks. The Burgundians had made friends with the English, who under Henry V had conquered great part of France. Henry V was dead, but his little son, Henry VI, had been crowned King of France and his uncle, the Duke of Bedford, held Paris and many other towns in the north of France for him. The true King of France, Charles VII, had not been crowned yet and many people still called him the Dauphin, the name by which the eldest son of the King of France used to be called. He was quite young, of a slow and lazy disposition, and had lost heart and did not know how to meet the difficulties which surrounded him. News of the sad state of France must often have reached Dom Rémy, brought by travelers of all kinds, peddlers, pilgrims, and wandering friars, who carried the news in those days as the newspapers do now. When John was about thirteen, at noon, one summer's day, she was in her father's garden, when she suddenly saw a strange light and heard a voice speaking to her. She was filled with fear and wondered what this could mean. But she believed that it was the voice of God that she heard, and after hearing it thrice, she knew it to be the voice of an angel. Twice or thrice a week she used to hear the voice. It told her to be good and to go off into church, and it also told her that she must go into France. Sometimes there were several voices, and she thought they were the voices of the archangel Michael and of the saints Margaret and Catherine. Sometimes she saw their visible shapes, Michael in armor, the saints crowned with fair crowns. Their voices were beautiful, gentle, and sweet, and a delicate fragrance accompanied them. We cannot explain these visions. Jeanne herself believed that she saw and heard the saints, and that they guided her in all she had to do. After she had seen them, she grew still more devout in her prayers, but though again and again the voices told her to go into France, she waited for three to four years, wondering what this could mean, and speaking to no one of the voices. In 1428 they told her to go to the governor of the neighboring town Vaux Couleurs and ask him for an armed escort into France that she might save the town of Orléans, which was besieged by the English. She answered, I am a poor girl who cannot ride or be a leader in war. But at last the day came when she felt that she could not resist the voices any more. She did not tell her father and mother, but she asked permission to visit a married cousin who lived near Vaux Couleurs. Then she persuaded her cousin's husband to take her to see the governor. The governor was a blunt, rough soldier, not at all likely to believe in Jeanne's mission. He could not be expected to think that an ignorant girl of sixteen could save France, and he seems only to have laughed at her. She went home, not discouraged, but quite clear in her mind that next year she would save the dauphin and take him to be crowned at Rimes, the city where the French kings had always been crowned. In 1429 once more she went to Vaux Couleurs. It was long before she could get the governor to listen, but her determination never wavered. She said, I must be with the king by mid-lent if I wear my legs down to the knees. We do not know what at last prevailed upon the governor to let her go, but she found two men who believed in her mission who undertook the leader to the king, and with them and their two servants she was allowed to start. By the advice of one of these friends she decided to travel in a man's dress. She wore a tunic with breeches and boots and a pages cap. The people of Vaux Couleurs gave her a horse. Her friends gathered to see her off begging her not to go and urging the dangers of the journey. But she answered, The way is made clear before me. I have my lord who makes the path smooth to the gentle dauphin for to do this deed I was born. Jean met with no difficulties on her journey right across France de Chineau where the king was. At first he would not see her, but at last she was brought into his presence where he sat surrounded by fifty knights in a hall blazing with fifty torches. No one told her which was the king, but she knew neither fear nor doubt. One who was there says that she came forward with great humility and simplicity and spoke to the king. Most noble lord dauphin, I come from God to help you in your realm. The king drew her apart and spoke to her for a long time. She told him that she would drive away the English from before or Leon, that she would lead him to be crowned, and she told him other things which were kept secret between him and her, what they were she would never tell. The king seemed to those who were watching to rejoice at what he heard, but he was always slow to move. He had to wait and consult many people and test the maid in many ways to find out whether he might trust her before he would let her do as she wished. In vain Jean prayed and wept, longing to be allowed to bring help to the people of Orléans. She was taken to the city of Poitiers and questioned by learned men. She was so bothered by their many questions that when one asked, do you believe in God, she answered more firmly than you do. It was six weeks before it was decided that she might be trusted and allowed to go to Orléans. Then a suit of steel armor was made for her. She wished to wear a special sword, which she said that her voices had told her would be found behind the altar at a little church near Tour. It was found, as she said, covered with rust which however came off easily when they began to clean it. The people of Tour gave her two splendid sheaths, one of red velvet and one of cloth of gold for the sword. In her hand she carried her standard which was white with angels painted on it and the motto Gézou Maria. She never used her sword and never killed anyone herself. Several men were chosen as her attendants and her two brothers joined her. When Jean was with the army, twice every day, she gathered the priests who were there around her banner and they prayed and sang hymns. Men learned to behave better for her presence. As she neared Orléans, Dunois, one of the chief men in the French army came out to meet her and said that he was right glad of her coming. With him she made her way into Orléans past the English army. She entered the city by night lest the crowd should be too great, but many bearing torches came to meet her and men, women and children pressed lovingly around her. Her business now was to attack the forts which the English had built outside the town. But before she would allow this to be done she insisted that the English should thrice be summoned to depart in peace. In her clear young voice, she was only seventeen, she cried to them across the river, and they shouted back insulting words saying they would burn her if they caught her. But just as Jean's coming had filled the French soldiers with new hope and courage, so would it terrify the English. They did not dare attack that slim figure in shining armor. At last the French from the other side began to attack the English forts. Jean worn out was resting on her bed, she did not know that the fighting had begun. But suddenly she woke with a cry saying that she must go against the English. Quickly her armor was buckled on, she sprang on her horse and was off. On the next five days there was fighting with the English, except on ascension day when Jean would not allow anyone to go out. On the last day the chief of the English forts was attacked and Jean led the attack. At noon as she mounted the first scaling ladder set against the wall an arrow struck her shoulder piercing her armor. She shrank and wept, but she barely paused to have her wounds stanched and went back to the front. When the sun was sinking and men doubted whether the fort could be taken her voice was heard crying, doubt not, the place is ours. Her faithful followers rallied rounder and one ceased her standard and dashed forwards. Watch, Jean said, till the tail of my standard touches the wall. When it did she said, then enter, all is yours. The last terrible assault carried all before it and the fort was won. When Jean saw close at hand the terrors of war she knelt weeping and praying for the souls of her enemies. Her first act was to go to the church and give thanks. After that she had her wound dressed. A few days after this glorious victory Jean went with Duneois to visit the Dauphin. Her good sense which was one of the causes of her wonderful success made her wish to press on to Reims. Besides, her voices had told her that she would only have one year in which to do her work and she was eager to get on. But the Dauphin hesitated and listened to other advice. Noble Dauphin, Jean pleaded, hold not such long and wordy counsels but come at once to Reims and be worthily crowned. She could not persuade him to make haste and the next month she spent in taking other places from the English. A young noble saw her at that time and wrote to his mother. To see her and hear her speak she seems a thing holy divine. At last her persistence was rewarded and the Dauphin agreed to march to Reims. The towns on their way yielded to him or rather to Jean. It was she who ever filled her friends with courage and her foes with fear. Reims opened its gates to them and preparations were at once made for the coronation. When Charles was crowned in the great cathedral, the maid stood next to him with her standard in her hand, and when all was over she knelt embracing his knees and weeping for joy saying, Gentle King, now is accomplished the will of God, who decreed that I should raise the siege of Orléans and bring you to the city of Reims to receive your solemn sacring thereby showing that you are the true king and that France should be yours. In less than three months she had accomplished what she had set out from her village to do. Jean had hoped that the day after the coronation the king would set out for Paris which was in the hands of his enemies, but again there were delays. Charles consented to make a truce of fifteen days with his enemies. Jean's good sense showed her what a mistake this was. Weary of the struggle she longed that it might be God's pleasure for her to lay down her arms and return to keep her father and mother's sheep, but she would not leave her task. It was nearly six weeks before she was allowed to go against Paris, and she was so badly supported that in spite of her great courage the attack failed. Once she stood all day in the ditch under the wall in the heat of the fire calling on the enemy to yield till she was shot in the leg. Then when her men carried her under cover though she could not move for her wound she kept on crying out to them to charge and telling them that the place was theirs if they would, but it was of no avail. Three days after the king decided to retreat and go back to the Loire. During most of the following winter there was little fighting, but in the spring once more Jean began to advance on Paris. It was then one day in Easter week that her voices told her that she would be captured before Midsummer Day, adding that she must take all things well for God would help her. So they warned her every day but never told her the hour of her captivity. Yet with this terrible fate before her she rode on she knew no turning back. A few weeks afterwards she was a compien and led her men out against the enemy. They were surprised by an unexpected attack as they rode. Thrice, Jean charged and drove back the enemy, but more and more soldiers came up. Most of Jean's men fled. Only a few faithful ones stayed with her. The enemy surrounded them and Jean was forced from her horse and carried off. Great was the joy of the English and their French friend the Duke of Burgundy when they heard that Jean was a prisoner. She was in the hands of a French noble of the English party and was treated as a prisoner of war, but her enemies planned to sell her to the English who had always said they would burn her if they could get her. Meanwhile she was kept in the castle of Bourrivoir and kindly treated by the ladies of the castle. They wished her to lay aside her man's dress but she refused saying that she had not yet had leave from God. She did not feel that her mission was ended. She was much distressed by the stories that she heard of the sufferings of the people of Compiègne, the town which she was trying to relieve when she was taken prisoner. She longed to go and help them. She knew too that she was to be sold to the English and she dreaded falling into their hands. So one night she tried to escape by leaping from the tower a height of sixty feet. She was found lying insensible in the ditch but with no bones broken. She said afterwards that her voices had bitten her not to leap and told her that Compiègne would be saved. Now the voices comforted her, bidding her beg God's pardon for having leaped. Jean soon recovered from her injuries and Compiègne was indeed relieved, but the maid was sold to the English after she had been some four months a prisoner. She was carried to several different places and at last a roule, where she was imprisoned in the castle with rough rude men to guard her. No woman was allowed to come near her. She was kept in chains and night and day had to endure the company of the soldiers. It was because she still hoped that some way of escape might be shown her that she would not give her promise not to try to escape. Had she done so she might have been more kindly treated, but her great courage made her ready to bear anything rather than give up the chance of going back to her task. Jean was to be tried by the church because the plan of the English was to treat her as a witch inspired by devils. A French bishop belonging to the English party was the chief of her judges and with him sat forty three learned lawyers and clergy to judge the peasant girl of eighteen before whom the English army had shrunk in terror. The maid had already been nine months a prisoner when she was brought to trial. She appeared dressed in a black suit like a page, strong in her confidence in the guidance of God and trusting in her voices to tell her what to answer. The judges could not make her swear to answer truthfully all their questions. She swore to speak the truth on certain subjects, but on others, chiefly on her private communications to the king, she said she would say nothing. First for six long days she was questioned in the public court, the ignorant peasant girl alone amongst her enemies. She never faltered, her answers came quick and ready, though often her judges wearied her by going again and again over the same points. When they asked if she often heard her voices, she said there was no day when she did not hear them and she had great need of them. She described once how the voice had awakened her and she had risen and sat on her bed with folded hands to listen and to give thanks for its coming. Always she showed that all she had done had been done at the bidding of God. I would rather have been torn in pieces by four horses than have come into France without God's command, she said. She stated confidently her belief that her king would gain the kingdom of France, adding that it was this revelation that comforted her every day. She never complained and said that since it had pleased God to allow it she believed that it was best that she should have been taken. She said that her voices encouraged her to bear her martyrdom patiently, for she would at last come to the heavenly kingdom. When she was asked what she meant by speaking of her martyrdom, she answered that she meant the pains she suffered in prison and that she thought it probable she would have pains still greater to bear. For six days she was publicly examined in court and later, on nine other days, she was secretly examined in prison. During all this time in spite of her constant entreaties, she was not allowed to hear mass. On her way to the court she passed in front of a little chapel and she used a kneel to pray at the entrance till even this was forbidden. When at last her examination was finished, a long statement was drawn up in which Jean was declared to be a witch and a heretic and accused of many evil deeds. These accusations were sent to many learned men for their opinion and all declared that Jean's voices were either inventions or the work of the devil and that she was a liar. Meanwhile her judges visited her in prison and exhorted her to submit and own that she had been deceived. It was nearly two months since the beginning of her trial. Long sermons were preached at her, she was confused by many questions difficult for an ignorant girl to answer and told that it was her duty to submit to the church. Again and again she answered simply, I submit to God my Creator. She was ill and worn out with suffering and anxiety. But as she lay upon her bed in prison, she still answered bravely through her weariness. Come what may, I will do or say, no other thing. For a week she lay in her chains, the rude soldiers always with her. Then again others visited her, urging her to confess, but she said, if I saw the fire lit, if I were in the flames, I would say no other thing. To the last she had hoped that the deliverance would come somehow, but now it seemed to her that she was altogether deserted. On the 24th of May she was taken out to the stake in the marketplace at Roule amongst the shouting crowd of hostile people. There a statement of the accusations against her was read out, and she said that she was willing to do as the church ordered, and that since the doctors of the church had decided that her visions and voices were not to be believed in, she would not defend them. She was bitten to sign a paper to this effect, and told that if she did so her life would be spared. We do not know what the paper was that at last Jean and her fear and weariness consented to sign with her mark, and we do not know whether she understood what she signed, but a few days afterwards she said, my voices have told me since I greatly sinned in that deed in confessing that I had done ill, what I said I said in fear of fire. Jean was now handed over to the church to spend her life in prison, she cried. Here some of you church folk, take me to your prisons and out of the hands of the English. But her judge sent her back to the same horrible prison with the English soldiers. A woman's dress was brought her and she was bitten to wear it. For three days she lay in prison with her legs and irons and chained to a wooden beam. We do not know exactly what happened but on the third day it was announced that Jean was again wearing the man's dress which she had sworn to her judges that she would not wear again. News was at once taken to the judges that she had relapsed, and they hurried to ask her the reason. She pleaded that it was more convenient to wear a man's dress among men and said, I would rather die than remain in irons. If you will release me and let me go to mass and lie in gentle prison I will be good and do what the church desires. But there was no pity for her. It was decided that she must be given up by the church to the English to be burnt. It is said that Jean cried piteously and tore her hair when she was told her fate. If so, she soon regained her courage. Her last desire was granted her. She was allowed to receive the sacrament. Then she was led out to the marketplace, weeping as she went, so that she so moved the hearts of those who were with her and they also wept. She had to wait in the sight of a great crowd whilst the sermon was preached at her. When it was over she humbly asked forgiveness of all and said that she forgave the evil that had been done to her. Some who watched were moved to tears but others were impatient to get away to dinner, so the bailiff said, away with her. Then Jean was led to the scaffold piled with faggots. She climbed it bravely but asked for a cross to hold as she burnt. There was none for her till an English soldier broke his staff and made a little cross and gave it her. She kissed it and cried to her savior for help. To the last she affirmed that she was sure that her voices had come from God and had not deceived her. As she was being chained to the stake she said, Ah, Ruel, I fear greatly that thou mayest have to suffer for my death. Then as the smoke rose round her she cried upon the saints who had befriended her and with a last strong cry, Jésus, her head sank, and she was free from her pain. The story of Jean the maid of France seems too wonderful to be true but all that we know about her is taken from the words of those who knew and saw her and from her own words at her trial, recorded not by her friends but by her enemies. It is by her own words that we know her best and they show us her pure nature, her marvelous courage, her perfect devotion to the task given to her. We cannot explain what her voices were but we know that she believed she heard them and that somehow this simple peasant maid was taught how to save her king. She accomplished her task. It was she who gave the French courage in their hour of despair and in the end the English were driven out of the land and Charles VII became king of the whole of France. Section VI of Some Famous Women by Louise Creighton. This Librobox recording is in the public domain, recording by Pamela Nagami. CHAPTER IV Margaret Beaufort. It was in the beginning of the troubled times of the wars of the roses that Margaret Beaufort was born. Her father, the Duke of Somerset, was one of the great nobles on the Lancastrian side. He was the grandson of John of Gaunt, son of Edward III, and Duke of Lancaster, who had married a rich and noble heiress. Margaret was born in 1441 in her mother's manner of Bletsoe in Bedfordshire. Only three years after her birth, her father died, and the little girl, his only child, was left heiress to vast estates and riches. She passed the early years of her life at Bletsoe with her mother. Great care seems to have been given to Margaret's education. It was not common in those days for girls even to be taught to write, but Margaret was bred in studious habits. She knew French perfectly and also some Latin, but in later life regretted that she had not been able to gain a fuller knowledge of that language. She was very clever with her needle, and is known to have executed beautiful embroidery. Above all, she was well taught in religion and trained in habits of piety. But the condition of a great heiress was far from agreeable in those days. It was the custom to give her to some great noble as his ward, and he then had the right to arrange for her marriage as he liked. When Margaret was nine years old, the king gave her as ward to the Duke of Suffolk, one of the most powerful men of the time, and he had her brought to court and wished to marry her to his son. But the king Henry VI wanted her to marry his half-brother, Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond. Margaret was puzzled by these different proposals and asked the advice of an old lady whom she dearly loved. The old lady bade her ask St. Nicholas, a saint who was thought to care especially for young girls, to help her in this difficult matter. Margaret prayed often to St. Nicholas in one night, whether she was awake or asleep, she did not know. St. Nicholas in the dress of a bishop appeared before her and told her to take Edmund Tudor as her husband. This dream seems to have decided the choice of her mother, and thus shortly afterwards the Duke of Suffolk fell into disgrace, it came about, that Margaret was allowed to marry Edmund Tudor when she was not quite fifteen years old. After her marriage she went with her husband to live at his castle at Pembroke in Wales, his native country. Only a year afterwards he died, and a few weeks after his death her son Henry was born. At the age of sixteen, only a child herself, she was left a widow with a child to take care of. The baby was small and weakly, and to it Margaret gave all her care. It was an anxious time for the members of the land castry and family. Their rivals, the Yorkists, were beginning to rise into power, and the little Henry, both on account of his great possessions, and because through his descent from John of Gaunt he was so nearly related to King Henry VI, was not likely to find them friendly to him and his mother. Margaret was glad to stay in quiet seclusion at Pembroke Castle under the protection of Jasper Tudor, her husband's brother, now owner of the castle. Even had he wished Henry VI could not have befriended her. He was powerless, sometimes in the hands of those who called themselves his friends, sometimes flying before his enemies whilst the country was distracted with the struggles of the Yorkists and the land castrians. Margaret thought it best to seek a protector for herself and her son by marrying Lord Henry Stafford. When Henry VI was in power she and her son were able to visit the court, but at other times she was only safe in her castle in Wales. At last Edward of York became king as Edward IV, and Henry VI was cast as a prisoner into the tower. Edward IV seized the lands belonging to the little Henry, and his mother feared lest even his life might not be safe. So she was willing that he should escape to France under the care of his uncle Jasper. Henry was then fourteen. Margaret had watched anxiously over his delicate childhood, moving him about to different places in Wales for the good of his health. He was an intelligent boy, and once when his uncle Jasper had taken him to court to see Henry VI, the king is reported to have said when he looked at him, surely this is he to whom both we and our adversaries shall hereafter give place. His tutor said that he had never seen a boy of so much quickness and learning. But now the poor boy had to leave his mother and his country. The wind drove him and Jasper to land on the coast of Brittany, and when the Duke of Brittany heard of their arrival he ordered them to be brought to his castle at Van. There he kept Henry as a sort of prisoner, but refused to give him up to Edward IV, and though not allowed to leave Van, he was at least safe. For fourteen years Henry was obliged to remain in Brittany, separated from his mother. The Yorkist king Edward IV was on the throne, and Margaret, separated from her son, lived as quietly as possible in her estates in the country, anxious to save what she could of her money and her lands for Henry. She seems to have stayed in different parts of the country. Wherever she lived she devoted herself to the care of the poor and the good of the church. Staying at one of her houses in Devonshire she found that the priest's house was at some distance from the church so that he had some way to walk to and fro. She therefore presented to the church forever her own manor house with the land around it for the priest's use, as it was close to the church. She lived chiefly at Colley Weston in Northamptonshire, where she built herself a fine house. She was deeply religious, and during these long years she spent much of her time in prayer. She used to get up at five o'clock and spend the hours till ten, which was in those days the hour for dinner, in meditation and prayer. The rest of the day she spent partly administering to the wants of the poor and sick, partly in study. Books in those days, just before the introduction of printing, were scarce and precious. Margaret busied herself with translating into English some books of devotion from the French. Amongst other things she was the first to translate into English, part of that famous book The Imitation by Thomas E. Kempis, which has helped and comforted so many people. We know little of her second husband and do not know how much he was with her. He died after they had been married 22 years, and in his will he spoke of Margaret with warm love and trust. Shortly after his death Margaret married for a third time Lord Stanley, himself a widower with a large family and one of the most powerful nobles at the court of Edward IV. In those days great people married more from policy than from love. Margaret probably felt that now that it seemed as if the power of the Yorkists was established, it would be well for her to gain the protection of a powerful noble at court, who might in time help to make it possible for her son to return to England. She now left her quiet life and came to live in a great house in London belonging to her husband. Very shortly afterwards everything was changed by the unexpected death of Edward IV. When his brother the Duke of Gloucester made himself king as Richard III and caused his little nephew to be murdered in the tower, there was such discontent in England that it seemed to the friends of the House of Lancaster a good opportunity to destroy the Yorkist power. Margaret's son Henry as the descendant of John of Gaunt was the chief representative of the House of Lancaster. A plan was made to make him king and marry him to Elizabeth, the beautiful young daughter of Edward IV. The Duke of Buckingham, one of the chief nobles of the time, until now a friend and supporter of Richard III was one of the chief movers in this plot. Margaret was traveling one day on the road between Bridge North and Worcester on her way to visit a special shrine at Worcester when she chanced to meet the Duke of Buckingham journeying from Tewkesbury. He told her of the proposed plot and she was naturally eager to help in anything which might bring back her son to her. Reginald Bray, a discreet man who was in Margaret's service and helped in looking after her estates, was employed in communicating with Henry. The young prince found many friends and a fleet was got together to bring him to England. But after he had started, a mighty storm arose, scattered his ships and drove him back to the coast of France with such fury that he narrowly escaped with his life. For the moment all seemed lost. Richard III's suspicions were thoroughly aroused. He knew that Margaret had been communicating with her son and he was very angry with her. But he did not dare to anger her powerful husband, Lord Stanley, by treating her too severely. He bade Stanley keep her safely in some secret place at home, without any servant or company, so that she might have no means of communicating with her son. Stanley himself was really in Henry's favour, and Richard, beginning to suspect him, seized his eldest son and kept him as a hostage for his father. Somehow communications with Henry still went on, and in 1485 he landed in Wales and all men flocked to join him. Stanley, who pretended to keep faith to Richard to the last, deserted him just before the Battle of Bosworth, where Richard was utterly defeated and killed. His crown was found hanging in a bush by Reginald Bray and brought to Stanley, who placed it on the head of Henry crying, Long Live King Henry VII! It seems likely that Henry first met his mother at Leicester after the battle. She had parted with him fifteen years before, when he was a boy of fourteen. She met him again as King of England. The rite that Henry had to the throne came to him through his mother. She might have claimed to be Queen herself, but she never thought of doing this, nor did she try to take any part in public affairs. Of course, all her lands were restored to her, and she was called at court the Full Noble Princess Margaret, Countess of Richmond, Mother of our Sovereign Lord the King. She now, for the most part, lived in her manner of woking and surrey, coming to court only on important occasions. Henry married Elizabeth, the tall golden-haired daughter of Edward IV, a few months after he became King, and Margaret seems to have been with her on all important occasions. Perhaps she may have domineered over her a little too much, for the Spanish envoy reported to his court that Elizabeth was a very noble woman and much beloved, but that she was kept in subjection by her mother-in-law the Countess of Richmond. In any rate, Margaret was by her side on all great occasions. Together they watched from behind a lattice the coronation of Henry and Westminster Abbey and the banquet afterwards in Westminster Hall. Together they went in state in a barge to Greenwich to see a water-fet arranged by the Lord Mayor in honour of the King's coronation, where among other shows they watched a dragon which was carried along in a barge and spouted fire into the Thames. Henry VII always treated his mother with great consideration. Margaret seems to have been in authority on matters of etiquette, for before the birth of his first child Henry asked her to draw up a set of rules about the ceremonies to be observed on the occasion. In these rules it is stated that there were to be two cradles of tree, meaning of wood, one large for state occasions to be adorned with paintings and furnished with cloth of gold and ermine fur and crimson velvet. At its christening the child was to carry a little taper in its hand, and two hundred torches were to be borne before it to the altar. After the baptism the torches and the little taper were to be lit and the child was to present the taper at the altar. It looks as if the love for grand ceremonies which distinguished the tutors had been started by Margaret. Her own household was beautifully ordered. She had drawn up a set of rules for the guidance of all the servants and the ladies and gentlemen who made up her household, and these rules were read aloud four times a year that all might know and observe them. She visited in turn all her different estates, spending some time at each, so that she might see that each was well ordered and hear the complaints of all those who had any grievances. She herself would constantly speak loving words of encouragement to her servants, bidding them all to do well and to live in peace with one another. She employed a band of minstrels of her own who would sometimes wander round the country and perform before the king and the court. As was the custom in those days many young gentlemen were educated in her household. Her care of the sick and suffering never failed. She would minister to them with her own hands and twelve poor folk to whom she gave food and raiment lodged constantly in her house. Neither did Margaret forget her interest in study. We are told by Bishop Fisher, who knew her well, that she was of singular wisdom far surpassing the common rate of women. She collected a great number of books, both English and French, and she was a warm friend of William Caxton who first introduced printing into England and who dedicated a book to her, which he said had been translated from the French at her request. After Caxton's death in 1496 his assistant, Winkin De Word, became the chief printer in London. He was much favored by Margaret and allowed to call himself printer unto the most excellent princess, my lady the king's mother. He published books for Margaret and amongst others one which she had herself translated from the French. Margaret had always been a deeply religious woman and with growing years she gave ever more time to her religious observances. Many hours were spent in prayer and in services in her chapel. She observed strictly all the fasts ordained by the church which were very severe in those days and she wore on certain days in each week a hair shirt or a hair girdle next to her skin in order to mortify her flesh. In 1497 Margaret appointed a learned at Cambridge scholar John Fisher whom she had noticed with favor at court where he had come on business connected with his university to be her confessor. Fisher gained great influence over her and he used it for the good of his university which was then by no means in a prosperous condition. Margaret was always generous with her money. Fisher says of her that she hated avarice and covetousness and she was glad to use her wealth to promote the cause of learning. Under Fisher's guidance she founded professorships at Cambridge and Oxford which are still called after her. The college where Fisher had himself studied called God's House was very poor and Margaret refounded it under the name of Christ's College and herself made the statutes under which it was to be governed. She took great interest in it and kept some rooms in it for herself where she might stay when she came to Cambridge. Once when she was staying there before the building of the college was finished she was looking out of the window when she saw the dean beating a scholar who had misbehaved. She did not interfere to stop the punishment but only called out in Latin lente lente gently gently wishing that the beating might be less severe. It was in Cambridge that the famous scholar Erasmus met her on one of his visits to England when she was an old lady and admired her good memory and a ready wit. Before the buildings of Christ College were finished Fisher won Margaret's interest in the foundation of another college St. John's. At that time the time which is known as the Renaissance because art and learning seemed to be born again men were eager to improve the teaching at the universities and to make it possible for all who wished to gain knowledge. Fisher was friends with Erasmus and other learned men and Margaret was willing to help with her money his plans for the advancement of learning just as she had helped Caxton and wink into word in printing and publishing books. But though for those days she was a learned woman herself she does not seem to have thought that other women should be helped to study and it was only the learning of men that she aided by her gifts. Henry VII was interested in his mother's plans and himself visited Cambridge to see her college. He also thought highly of Fisher and named him Bishop of Rochester. There seems to have been a deep affection between Henry and his mother. Once in writing to her toward the end of his life he says that he has bounden to her for the great and singularly motherly love and affection that she has always had for him. In writing to the king Margaret called him my own sweet and most dear king and all my worldly joy and often addressed him as my dear heart. She had the sorrow of seeing him die before her but she did not live many months after him. She suffered greatly from rheumatic pains in what Bishop Fisher calls her merciful and loving hands so that her ladies and servants wept to see her agony. She died at Westminster and was buried in Henry VII's chapel in Westminster Abbey where a black marble tomb commemorates her memory. Bishop Fisher preached her funeral sermon and said in it all England for her death had cause of weeping the poor creatures that were wont to receive her alms to whom she was always piteous and merciful the students of both universities to whom she was a mother all the learned men of England to whom she was a very patroness all the good religious men and women whom she so often was wont to visit and comfort. Margaret's plans for the foundation of St. John's College were not finished at her death and Woolsey the favorite of her grandson Henry VIII tried to get her lands for other purposes. Fisher's efforts succeeded in keeping a great deal for St. John's though not as much as Margaret had meant to give. She left all her jewels books vestments plate and altar cloths to her two colleges. She had been especially fond of fine goldsmith's work and many beautiful things had been made for her adorned with her own emblem a daisy or with the rose and the portcullis which through her descent from the Lancaster and Beaufort families became the Tudor emblems. Besides her colleges she founded several alms houses and a school at Wimborn where her parents were buried. She used her great possessions as a trust which she held for the good of the country and for herself sought no luxury or display being as Bishop Fisher says in his sermon, temperate in meats and drinks, eschewing banquets and keeping fast days. End of Section 6. Section 7 of Some Famous Women by Louise Creighton. This Librobox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Pamela Nagami. Chapter 5. Rachel, Lady Russell. Rachel Risley was the daughter of the Earl of Southampton and a French Huguenot lady whom he had married when traveling in France and who was renowned for her beauty and virtue. Rachel was born in 1636. She never knew her mother who died when she was an infant. Her father married again and we know nothing about her relations with her stepmother but we know that she dearly loved her sisters and was very good friends with her step sister. England was passing through troubleous times during her childhood on account of the disputes between Charles I and his Parliament. Lord Southampton was a sensible, moderate man and he could not approve of the King's doings but he remained true to him and took his side when the Civil War broke out. When the terrible end came and Charles I was beheaded in 1649, Southampton got permission to watch by the King's body during the night after the execution. He is reported to have told a friend that whilst he was watching at about two o'clock in the morning he heard a step on the stair and a man entered muffled in a cloak and stood by the body. He heard him sigh, cruel necessity, and he knew by the voice that it was cromwell. Southampton's moderation was so well known that though he had been the King's friend, the Parliament did not seize his lands and he was suffered to live quietly on one of his estates in Hampshire. Rachel was then about 13 years old and must have benefited from the companionship of her father during these quiet years. We know nothing of her education and she does not seem in afterlife to have possessed any learning but no doubt it was from her father she gained the good sense and the deep religious faith which distinguished her through life. She was an heiress since her father had no son and only two of his other daughters survived him. As was the custom in those days as suitable marriage was soon arranged for her, she was only 17 when she married Lord Vaughn who died four years afterwards. All that is known of her married life is that Lady Rachel behaved so as to win the love of her husband's family who always remained her friends. When her husband died she went to live in Hampshire with her sister Elizabeth to whom she was deeply attached. Each of the sisters possessed a fine house in Hampshire and when Elizabeth died both these places, Titchfield and Stratton, belonged to Rachel. Her father had lived to see the restoration of Charles II and to be one of his first ministers but he was now dead and Rachel was completely her own mistress. There was no one to arrange a marriage for her and she was able to choose for herself a man whom she deeply loved. She had known William Russell, the younger son of the Duke of Bedford for two years before they were married. He had shown his devotion to her for some time but perhaps because he was a younger son and she and Eris he hesitated at first to ask her to be his wife. They were married at last in 1669 and fourteen years of perfect happiness began for Rachel. The only real sorrow that came to her was the death of her sister whom she described as a delicious friend. Her other sorrows were her brief separations from her husband when he had to visit his father at Woburn. William Russell's elder brother had died and he was now heir to the Dukedom of Bedford. He was not a brilliant man but he was a very good man, devotedly attached to his family and his friends and very anxious to do his duty. When they were separated Lady Russell wrote constantly to him telling him all she heard that might interest him. When he had only been gone a few hours she wrote that she could not let this first post-night pass without giving my dear man a little talk. Once when she had gone over to Tunbridge Wells to drink the waters she wrote, after a toilsome day there was some refreshment to be telling our story to our best friends. I have seen your girl well laid in bed and ourselves have made our suppers upon biscuits, a bottle of white wine and another of beer mingled my uncle's way with nutmeg and sugar. Beds and things are all very good here. Our want is yourself and good weather. They had three children, two girls and a boy, and her letters are full of illusions to the eldest. Our little girl is very well and extremely merry and often calls Papa. She gets new pretty tricks every day. And another time. Your girls are very well. Miss Rachel has prattled a long story, but I must omit it. She says Papa has sent for her to Woburn and then she gallops and says she has been there and a great deal more. Lord Russell was in Parliament but at first he did not take much part in public affairs. He had no ambition and liked his quiet home life better than the bustle of public life. For many years he sat silent in Parliament, but his strong love of liberty and of the Protestant religion at last drove him to be more active. There was much discontent with the government of Charles II and with the favour which he showed to the Roman Catholics. Lord Russell joined himself with a number of others to whom the nickname of Wiggs was given, who were anxious to maintain the rights of Parliament and to prevent the King's brother, James Duke of York, who was a Roman Catholic, from being considered the heir to the throne. Lady Russell was very anxious lest her husband should do or say anything rash and even once sent him a little note to the House of Parliament begging him to be silent. People were then very excited and very bitter against those who thought differently from them. An imposter named Titus Oates pretended to have discovered a popish plot to destroy the King and by his false accusations caused many innocent men to be put to death. A few years afterwards others pretended to have discovered a wig plot to kill Charles II and his brother. Lord Russell had not joined in any of the violent accusations made against those opposed to him, nor had he been aware of any plot. But he was a man of great influence, one of the leaders amongst the Wigs, and he too was anxious to keep James from succeeding to the throne. When people were angry and alarmed at the supposed wig plot, the King and his friends thought it a good opportunity to get rid of some of the wig leaders. There was one amongst them, Lord Howard, who was ready to secure his own safety by betraying the others. Lord Russell knew that he was in danger and one day a man was set at his front gate to watch and to prevent his going out, but there was no one at his back gate so that he could easily have escaped had he wished. This was perhaps what his enemies wanted. But he felt that to escape would be the same thing as confession of his guilt. He sent his wife out to ask the opinion of his friends and they agreed with him. So he stayed quietly at home, and the next day he was fetched to appear before the King's council and was afterwards sent as a close prisoner to the tower. He knew the fury of his enemies and said to his servant that they would have his life, and when the servant answered that he hoped they would not have the power he said, yes, the devil is loose. From that moment Lord Russell allowed himself no hope. He looked upon himself as a dying man and turned his thoughts away from this world to another world. But his friends of course were eager to do everything to save him. We can imagine what the suffering of his wife must have been. She who had found it hard to bear a separation of a few days had now to face the terrible probability that he would be condemned to death for high treason. Her first letter to him in the tower was sent concealed in a cold chicken. Afterwards she seems to have been able to communicate with him more easily. Her courage was equal to her love and she set to work at once to try to collect evidence in his favor. Her efforts never ceased during the fortnight which passed before he was brought to trial and she got hold of every possible fact that could be urged in his defense. Moreover she was brave and self-controlled enough to determine to be present at his trial. She wrote to Ask His Leave saying, Your friends, believing I can do you some service at your trial, I am extremely willing to try. My resolution will hold out. Pray let yours. But it may be the court will not let me. However, do you let me try. When Lord Russell was brought before the bar at the Old Bailey, he asked for pen, ink and paper and the use of the papers that he had and said, May I have somebody to write to help my memory? He was told that he might have one of his servants to write for him and he answered, My wife is here, my lord, to do it. The Lord Chief Justice said, If my lady please to give herself the trouble. So Lady Russell was allowed to be at his side to help him. He was accused of conspiring against the king's life and of plotting to raise a rebellion in England. Both of these accusations he firmly denied. The witnesses against him were men of despicable character and there is no doubt that their evidence was false, but the jury found him guilty and he was condemned to death as a traitor. There was only a week left before he was to be executed. His wife and his friends could not give up hope. His father offered the king fifty thousand pounds if he would spare his life and begged him not to put his gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. People of all kinds interceded with Charles but it was all in vain. Lady Russell never ceased her efforts. It was suggested that she should try to surprise the king in the park and throw herself at his feet, but this does not seem to have been possible. At her earnest entreaty Lord Russell wrote to the king asking his pardon for having been present at any meetings which may have been unlawful or provoking to the king, but Charles never hesitated. He seems to have regarded Lord Russell as a dangerous person. Lord Russell himself was absolutely resigned to his fate and only wished to be left in peace to prepare for his death. Every day he was visited by a clergyman, Dr. Burnett, who was left in account of his last days, and Lady Russell was also much with him. She did not distress him by her lamentations but showed a greatness of spirit which was an immense comfort to him. Sometimes when he spoke to her the tears would come into his eyes and he would quickly change the subject. Once he said that he wished she would give up beating every bush for his preservation, but he realized that it would help her afterwards to think that she had done everything in her power, just as it helped her during those sad days to have something to do. He was always cheerful and ready to talk and even joke with those who came to see him, but he gave his mind chiefly to prayer and religious thoughts and to preparing a statement of his opinions which he wished to be distributed after his death. On the last evening of his life he signed this paper and sent it to be printed. Then some of his friends and his children came to see him and he was calm and cheerful with his children as usual. He bade his wife stay to supper with him, saying, Stay in supper with me, let us eat our last earthly food together. He talked cheerfully during supper on various subjects and particularly of his two daughters. When a note was brought to Lady Russell with some new plan for his deliverance he turned it into ridicule so that those who were with him were amazed. At ten o'clock Lady Russell had to leave him. He kissed her four or five times and she, brave to the last, kept her sorrow so within herself that she gave him no disturbance by their parting. After she was gone he said, Now the bitterness of death is past, and he talked long about the blessing she had been to him and what a comfort it was that in spite of her great tenderness she had never wished him to do a base thing in order to save his life. He said, What a week should I have passed if she had been crying on me to turn in former and be a Lord Howard. He thanked God for giving him such a wife and said that it was a great comfort to him that he left his children in such a mother's hands and that she had promised to him to take care of herself for their sakes. Then he turned to think of the great change that was before him and at last went to bed and slept soundly. Those who were with him next morning were amazed at the temper he was in. He thanked God that there was no sort of fear nor hurry in his thoughts and so he prayed and waited till they came to take him in his coach to his execution. He was still cheerful as he went, singing softly a Psalm to himself. As they came near his own house and then turned from it into another street he said, I have often turned to the other hand with great comfort and now I turn to this with greater. But as he looked toward his house some tears were seen to fall from his eyes so he remained calm and cheerful till he laid his head on the block and all his troubles were over. We do not know and we can hardly bear to think how his wife passed those terrible hours after she had parted from him. Seven years afterwards she wrote, There was something so glorious in the object of my biggest sorrow I believe that in some measure kept me from being then overwhelmed. She was roused only a few days after Lord Russell's death to defend his memory since it was asserted that the paper which he had written before his death and which had been printed and widely read was not his but had been written by Dr. Burnett. She wrote to the king describing herself as a woman amazed with grief and begged him to believe that he who in all his life was observed to act with the greatest clearness and sincerity would not at the point of death do so false a thing as to deliver for his own what was properly not so. Still Dr. Burnett was regarded with such suspicion that he thought it wise to leave the country for a time. He Russell left London and went with her children to Wolburn, the place of the Duke of Bedford, her father-in-law. She had kind friends to help her in her sorrow. The Duke of Bedford cherished her and her children with tender affection and for long she made her home with him. He addressed her in his letters as his dearest daughter and signed himself your most affectionate father and friend. A clergyman, Dr. Fitzwilliam who had been her father's chaplain and had known her from infancy, wrote often to her and to him she poured out her sorrow as to one who had known both her and her husband and had seen their life together and therefore would be patient with her whilst her disordered thoughts and her amazed mind made it difficult for her to speak of anything but her grief. She had promised her husband that she would live for her children and to their care she now devoted herself, determining to teach them herself, and we do not hear that her daughters ever had any other teacher. Mr. Hoskins, her lawyer, helped her in the management of her affairs with most tender sympathy and tried to persuade her by degrees to take some interest in them so that she might not be too entirely absorbed in her sorrow. He told her that great persons had great trials but also had more opportunity than common people to fit their minds to bear them. Her children were too young to know what they had lost, and she was determined to do all in her power for them and particularly for her son, that he might not feel, if he grew to be a man, that it would have been better for him had he had a mother less ignorant or less negligent. She said that she had no choice in any matter for herself and could not like one way better than another so long as what was done was for the good of those young creatures whose service was all the business she had in the world. But she hardly realized how dear her children were to her till the serious illness of her little boy showed her what it would cost her to part with him. When he recovered she felt that she had indeed something still to live for and that she might be blessed with some joy and satisfaction through her children. Her little boy was heir to his grandfather the Duke of Bedford, and on all matters connected with his education she consulted the Duke. Neither of them wished to make him begin study too soon, but Lady Russell was anxious that he should have a French tutor, that he might learn the language. There were many Huguenot in England who had fled from the persecutions in France, and by engaging one of them she was able both to do a charity and to be of use to her son. Only two years after Lord Russell's execution Charles II had died and been succeeded by his brother James II. James II's attempt to upset the authority of Parliament and to rule by his own will alone led to the rebellion which in 1688 made his daughter Mary and her husband William of Orange King and Queen of England. Whilst these stirring events were passing Lady Russell was living quietly in the country, her only fear was lest her children should run any risk. Once things were settled she knew that she could count upon the friendship of William and Mary, and at the Duke of Bedford's wish she went with him to London. She was full of thankfulness for the change and wrote that it was difficult to believe that it was more than a dream, yet it was real and an amazing mercy. Her husband's friend Dr. Burnett came over with Mary and was made Bishop of Salisbury. One of the first acts of the new government was to reverse the sentence passed on Lord Russell and the House of Commons to creed that his execution had been a murder. Lady Russell was now in a position of influence and importance, but she did not change her quiet way of living. A paper that she wrote about this time for her children shows her loving anxiety for them. In it, after bidding them never to forget their prayers morning and evening, she tells them about her own prayers and how she always carried with her a little piece of paper on which she noted her faults that she might ask forgiveness for them. In this way she had gained a habit of constant watchfulness. One of her anxieties had been to arrange suitable marriages for her children, and it was a great joy to her when her husband's closest friend, the Duke of Devonshire, proposed that his son should marry her eldest daughter. When this marriage was decided on, Lady Elizabeth was only fourteen and Lord Cavendish not sixteen. Lady Russell had to go to London to make the necessary arrangements and felt it right to go more into society, though she said that going to parties was hard for one with a heavy and weary mind. The marriage was delayed by the bride having an attack of measles, and when it did take place the young couple only spent three weeks together under Lady Russell's care, and then Lord Cavendish was sent to finish his education by traveling on the continent for two years. A few years later Lady Russell married her younger daughter to the eldest son of the Duke of Rutland, the best match in England. When her son was only fifteen, a seat in Parliament was offered her for him, but she refused because she thought him too young. She had, however, already arranged a marriage for him to a girl in whose education she took the deepest interest. He was married when he was fifteen, but his wife stayed at home with her mother and he went to Oxford for a year's study, during which his mother often visited him. At seventeen he was sent to travel abroad, as Lady Russell believed that to live well in the world it is for certain necessary to know the world well. During his travels he caused her some anxiety, for he took to gambling and lost so much money that when he came home she had to ask her grandfather for money to pay his debts. Shortly afterwards his grandfather died and he became Duke of Bedford. Now it seemed as if Lady Russell's anxieties were over since her three children were all happily married, but sorrow followed her to the last. Her son, in the fullness of life and health, was seized with smallpox, the haunting terror of those days before vaccination was discovered. His wife and children had to fly from the infection and only his mother with her never failing courage stayed to soothe his last moments. Shortly afterwards her younger daughter, the Duchess of Rutland died. Once again a demand was made on Lady Russell's courage. Her only remaining daughter, the Duchess of Devonshire, had just given birth to a child. It was feared that if she heard of the death of her sister this shock might be fatal. So her mother stayed with her and did not let her learn the truth, telling her that she had that day seen her sister out of bed, by which she really meant that she had seen her in her coffin. Another trouble of Lady Russell's later life was the fear of blindness, but she bore this calamity with patience till an operation restored her sight. She lived till the age of 88 when she died after a short illness, watched over by the loving care of her only remaining child. During a long life her courage, her love, her faith had never failed her in spite of her sore trials. It is interesting to remember that three of the chief families of England, the Houses of Devonshire, Bedford and Rutland, look back to this pure warm-hearted woman and her murdered husband as their common ancestors. End of section seven.