Transcriber's Notes.
Hyphenation has been standardised.
A GROUP OF
FAMOUS WOMEN
STORIES OF THEIR LIVES
BY
EDITH HORTON
ILLUSTRATED
D. C. HEATH AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
D. C. HEATH & COMPANY
1 C 4
TO THE
WOMEN TEACHERS OF AMERICA
WHOSE NOBLE LIVES HAVE EVER BEEN
AN INSPIRATION TO THE YOUTH
OF OUR LAND
FOREWORD
The best kind of American woman is proud. She has confidence in
herself. She is not vain or conceited or self-assertive, but she
has faith in her own powers. Even if she could, she would not spend
her life in play or in idleness; she would choose to work. She
believes that because she is doing her chosen work—whatever it may
be—steadily, hour by hour, day by day, she is achieving. Because she
has confidence in herself, she can live and labor serenely, proudly.
No matter how obscure her lot, she feels herself to be in the same
class as the most famous of her American sisters who have worked
with steadiness and confidence at their task, and who have achieved
greatness.
So difficult has it been for teachers to find brief, readable
biographies of distinguished women to use in connection with their
lessons in history and civics that they will welcome this interesting
collection. It should help to make the girls in our American schools
proud of their womanhood and it should give them a strong desire to be
worthy of belonging to the same class as this group of noble workers.
EMMA L. JOHNSTON
Principal Brooklyn Training School for Teachers.
March 16, 1914.
"If women now sit on thrones, if the most beautiful painting in the
world is of a mother and her child, if the image of a woman crowns the
dome of the American Capitol, if in allegory and metaphor and painting
and sculpture the highest ideals are women, it is because they have a
right to be there. By all their drudgery and patience, by all their
suffering and kindness, they have earned their right to be there."
—_O. T. Mason_
"The Egyptian people, wisest then of nations, gave to their Spirit
of Wisdom the form of a woman; and into her hand, for a symbol, the
weaver's shuttle."
—_John Ruskin_
INTRODUCTION
The advantages of biography as a means of education are obvious.
History and biography go hand in hand, the latter giving vitality and
reality to the former.
Educators have for a long time appreciated this, and in many Courses
of Study throughout our land provision has been made for the teaching
of history through biography. In most cases, emphasis has been laid
upon the notable careers of Washington, Franklin, Lincoln, and other
illustrious men, with the purpose of interesting the young and
inspiring in them the spirit of emulation.
It is a remarkable fact that little attention, if any, has been given
to the study of the careers of distinguished women, and the question
has often been asked why short biographies should not be prepared, in
order that the pupils in our schools might become familiar with the
noble and unselfish lives of the many remarkable women whose influence
has been inspiring and uplifting. It is hoped that those who read the
stories of the lives of the women whose names appear in this volume
will find in them an incentive to guide their own lives into useful
channels.
These types have been selected because of their direct influence upon
events of world-wide significance. Only a limited number of types has
been given because it would be impossible, within the compass of one
volume or of many, to record the great and good deeds of women, past
and present.
The compiler has no intention of expressing her personal opinions; the
facts of these women's lives speak for themselves, and the stories,
necessarily brief here, of their careers are so full of vital and human
interest that it is hoped that the young reader may be led to the
perusal of more complete biographies in later life.
Many foreign born girls in our schools have practically no means
of acquiring any adequate idea of the ideal standard of American
womanhood—a standard radically different from that in their own native
lands. The foreign born boys, however, invariably study the lives
of great American men, and thus have no difficulty in familiarizing
themselves with high ideals in ethics and statesmanship at precisely
the time when the most enduring impressions are being made. As there is
no reason whatever for this disparity of opportunity, it should cease,
and by means of this little work and others of similar character,
our school girls in general—and more especially those of foreign
birth or parentage—should be made acquainted with the traditions and
responsibilities of American women, and the unlimited opportunities for
development and progress in this great Republic.
Women have been important factors in our national growth, and the value
of their aid in carrying forward the progress of human improvement
has never been properly estimated. The future of woman in America is
undoubtedly to be of still greater significance to our country. Every
art and profession is open to her, everything compatible with womanhood
is within her reach, and she should be in readiness for the supreme
civic privilege if such be granted her.
To-day, women are voting in ten states of the Union, a fact which
calls attention to the necessity of educating girls for the duties of
citizenship. The woman of the future will be better equipped to meet
such duties by the study of the lives of certain representative women.
In the schools, side by side with boys, our girls study civics. Side by
side with boys, they salute the Flag. Grown to womanhood, still side by
side with men, they will help to uphold all the sacred traditions for
which our Flag stands,—the true woman never forgetting that the home
and the family are the bulwarks of the country.
E. H.
CONTENTS
PAGE
JOAN OF ARC 1
DOROTHY PAYNE MADISON 13
ELIZABETH FRY 27
LUCRETIA MOTT 35
MARY LYON 49
DOROTHEA DIX 61
MARGARET FULLER 75
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 83
MARIA MITCHELL 99
LUCY STONE 107
JULIA WARD HOWE 115
QUEEN VICTORIA 123
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 133
SUSAN B. ANTHONY 143
MARY A. LIVERMORE 151
CLARA BARTON 165
HARRIET HOSMER 173
LOUISA M. ALCOTT 183
FRANCES E. WILLARD 199
WOMEN ON THE BATTLE-FIELD AND IN PIONEER
LIFE 207
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Joan of Arc: The Peasant Girl _Frontispiece_
"The Maid of Orleans" 11
Dorothy Payne Madison 12
Elizabeth Fry 26
Lucretia Mott 34
Mary Lyon 48
Dorothea Dix 60
Margaret Fuller 74
Harriet Beecher Stowe 82
Maria Mitchell 98
Lucy Stone 106
Julia Ward Howe 114
Queen Victoria 122
Florence Nightingale 132
Susan B. Anthony 142
Mary A. Livermore 150
Clara Barton 164
Harriet Hosmer 172
Louisa M. Alcott 182
Frances E. Willard 198
Martha Washington 206
Molly Pitcher 210
A GROUP OF FAMOUS WOMEN
"_The woman's cause is man's; they rise or sink
Together, dwarf'd or godlike, bond or free._"
—ALFRED TENNYSON
[Illustration:
_Henri Chapu, (1833-1891)_ _Louvre_
JOAN OF ARC: THE PEASANT GIRL AT DOMRÉMY]
JOAN OF ARC
(1410, 1412-1431)
"Oh child of France! Shepherdess, peasant girl! Trodden under foot by
all around thee, how I honor thy flashing intellect, quick as God's
lightning, and true as God's lightning to its mark, that ran before
France and laggard Europe by many a century, confounding the malice of
the ensnarer, and making dumb the oracles of falsehood!"
—_De Quincey_
The story of the life of Joan of Arc is so unusual and so wonderful
that it would be difficult to believe it to be true, if all that
happened to her had not been told in a court of law and written down
during her lifetime. Few facts in history come to us so directly, for
these old records are still preserved in France, where they may be seen
and read to-day.
Joan was born sometime between 1410 and 1412, in the little village of
Domrémy, France, being the fifth child of Jacques and Isabelle d'Arc.
Her parents were peasants in comfortable circumstances and Joan did
not suffer through poverty. She never learned to read or write—indeed,
very few people at that time were able to do so—but she became
skillful in the use of the needle and helped her mother in all the
household tasks. She was always good and obedient to her parents and
kind to every one, especially the sick and the poor.
When work for the day was over, Joan ran about with her playmates, full
of fun and frolic, dancing and singing for the pure joy of living.
Often the children would run to the beautiful forest near the village,
where there was an oak which they called the fairy tree. Here they
would bring cakes for little feasts, at which they would dance, hanging
garlands of flowers on the branches in honor of the good fairies. This
was a custom of peasant children of France in those days.
Joan would sometimes steal away from her companions and sit quietly
and thoughtfully alone. For she was living in a very unhappy time for
France, and the misfortunes of her beloved country weighed upon her
spirits.
Her father had told her of the sad condition of France, of how the
kings of England had been for nearly a hundred years trying to make
themselves kings of France, and how, little by little, they had taken
possession of French lands until it was feared they would soon own the
entire country and France would have an English king. Charles, called
the Dauphin, son of the old French king, did not dare to be crowned,
and no prince was thought to become really king of France until that
ceremony had taken place. For centuries, the French kings had been
crowned and anointed with sacred oil at the Cathedral of Rheims, but
as the city of Rheims was far away and in the power of the English,
Charles thought he could not safely go there.
As Joan grew older, she spent much of her time alone and in prayer,
brooding over the wrongs of her country. She implored God to have pity
on France. When about thirteen years of age, and while she was standing
in her father's garden at noon one summer day, she suddenly saw a great
light and heard voices telling her to be good, and telling her, also,
that she must go to the rescue of her country. Joan said that she was
only a young, ignorant peasant girl, who could neither ride a horse nor
use a sword. But the voices kept on speaking to her for years, always
telling her the same thing, to go to the relief of the Dauphin.
Joan at last came to believe that the visions and the voices came from
God, and she determined to obey them. When she told her father and
mother what she intended to do, they tried to dissuade her, telling her
that the voices she heard were imaginary, and that it was impossible
for a girl to do what trained military men and great generals had
failed to accomplish. Though it was very hard for her to act contrary
to the wishes of her parents, Joan said she must do the work God had
planned for her. Soon her gentle persistence had its effect, and people
stopped laughing at her and ridiculing her, some even beginning to
believe in her mission.
The voices bade Joan go to the Dauphin, who was then living at Chinon,
a castle on the Loire, and tell him that she had come to lead his army
to victory and that he would shortly go to Rheims to be crowned.
At first it seemed impossible for her to get to Chinon, but she went to
Vaucouleurs, where her uncle lived, and with his help she succeeded in
persuading Robert de Baudricourt, the commander there, to give her an
escort of a few armed men for the journey. Someone gave her a beautiful
war-horse, which, to the surprise of all, she rode well, though she had
never ridden before in her life. She cut her long, black hair short
and dressed herself in doublet and hose like a boy, and this costume
she wore during the remainder of her life.
On February 23, 1429, she rode out of Vaucouleurs through a gate
which is standing to-day, and after several days journeying came to
Chinon. Here there was some delay, for Charles was surrounded by people
who advised him not to grant Joan an interview, but she was finally
permitted to enter the great hall of the castle, where crowds of men,
knights, and nobles in gorgeous attire, were assembled. But Joan was
not dismayed. With confidence, but also with modesty, she walked up
to one who was very plainly dressed, and fell on one knee before him
saying, "God send you long life, gentle Dauphin." The man pointed to
another, richly dressed in gold and silk embroidery, saying, "That is
the King." But Joan said, "No, fair Sir!" She was not to be deceived,
and her recognition of Charles, notwithstanding his disguise, caused
all to wonder and many to believe in her.
The King asked her name and what she wanted.
"Fair Dauphin, my name is Jeanne the Maid; and the King of Heaven
speaks unto you by me, saying that you shall be anointed and crowned at
Rheims," Joan replied.
She then asked to be allowed to lead his army to the relief of Orleans,
which city was under siege by the English at that time, telling him
that under her guidance the victory would be theirs. Many of the nobles
laughed at the idea of a girl leading an army, but after talking
with her, Charles granted her request and sent her to Tours, where
preparations were made for the journey to Orleans.
At length all was in readiness and the start was made. On a bright
spring day, Joan rode away from Tours at the head of the King's army,
wearing beautiful armor of white wrought iron. She carried an ancient
sword, which she had divined was hidden behind the altar of St.
Catherine in the chapel at Fierbois, and a banner embroidered with
golden lilies. Such a sight was never seen before nor since.
It was night, April 29, when the French reached Orleans. They had
safely passed an English fortress and entered the town without trouble.
The people of Orleans, carrying torches, crowded around Joan, eager
to see the brave girl who had come to their rescue. The women tried
to kiss her hands and all the people shouted and cheered. The entire
city rejoiced, for Joan's calm confidence, her bravery and decision,
inspired the soldiers with belief in her and in the success of her
undertaking.
Very soon Joan led her soldiers forth against the English and they were
successful in taking several forts. She had prophesied long before this
time that she would be wounded during the fighting, and one evening,
shortly before the siege was raised, she said to Brother Pasquerel, the
priest who was with her, "To-morrow rise even earlier than to-day. Stay
always at my side, for to-morrow I shall have much ado—more than I
have ever had, and to-morrow blood shall flow from my body."
The next day, while placing a ladder against a wall during the thick
of the fight, a cross-bow entered her shoulder in spite of her armor
and blood flowed. The arrow was drawn out and the wound was dressed,
whereupon she insisted upon returning to the battle, though it is said
she cried a little because of the pain.
At eight o'clock that night one of Joan's generals came to her for
permission to stop the fighting until morning. But Joan asked him
to wait a while. Then she rode into a vineyard and prayed. When she
returned to the field, she found that a soldier had carried her banner
into a ditch. She seized it, and waving it so that all the men saw it,
cried, "When my standard touches the wall, we shall take the fort!"
Soon the wind blew the fringe of the banner against the wall and with a
mad rush the French climbed into the fort, while the English fled.
The next day, May 8, 1429, the siege was raised, and ever since, the
people of Orleans celebrate that day and pay honor to Joan, called by
them "The Maid of Orleans."
Several other victories were won by the French under Joan's leadership
until the English were driven far to the North. Then Joan tried to
induce Charles to go to Rheims to be crowned, so that the French people
would feel that he was really their King. But the distance was great
and the roads passed through towns which were occupied by friends of
the English, and Charles, who loved his ease, was hard to move. At
length, however, he was persuaded, and with an army of twelve thousand
men Charles started on his journey to Rheims, which city he entered on
July 16, being crowned the next day with imposing ceremonies.
This was perhaps the happiest day of Joan's life. The great Cathedral
was crowded with people, only the center aisle being kept free for
the procession. First came the Archbishop, accompanied by his canons
in their robes of state. Then came men of high rank, magnificently
dressed. From the west door Joan and the King appeared side by side,
and cheers and cries of welcome greeted them, followed by a deep
silence preceding the solemnity of the coronation. The Archbishop of
Rheims administered the coronation oath; then the Dauphin was anointed
with the sacred oil, and crowned, while the trumpeters played and the
people shouted. The Maid knelt at the King's feet and wept for joy.
When asked by Charles to choose a gift as a reward for her work for her
country, she begged that the people of her native town Domrémy might be
free from paying taxes. This was granted, and for three hundred years
the taxes were remitted. On the books is written against the town of
Domrémy: "Nothing. For the sake of the Maid."
This was all Joan would accept. For herself she desired nothing except
to be allowed to go back to her village home to tend her sheep and be
again with her mother. But Charles VII would not consent to that, for
France was not yet free from the English.
So it was decided to try to recapture Paris. Shameful to say, however,
the King did not give Joan the assistance he should, withdrawing
instead from the city. Soon afterwards, while leading an attack
against the Duke of Burgundy, Joan was taken prisoner and sold to the
English. King Charles made no effort to effect a ransom for her, nor
did anyone else in France attempt to raise money to save her from her
unhappy fate. She was charged with sorcery, put into prison in Rouen,
and after a year was brought to trial. At the trial she was found
guilty, was sentenced to death, and burned at the stake in the market
place of Rouen, May 30, 1431.
Joan of Arc had no grave; her ashes were thrown into the Seine. There
remains no relic of her, no portrait, or any article she ever touched.
Still she will never be forgotten. It is now nearly five hundred years
since her death, yet to-day she is honored and reverenced, and many
statues have been erected to her memory.
A mere child in years, she rescued her country from the English by a
series of brilliant victories, crowned the French king, and in return
for this was burned alive at the stake, while those for whom she had
fought looked on, making no effort to save her. She was seventeen years
of age when she led the armies of France to victory, and but nineteen
when she met her cruel death.
[Illustration]
Her pure, steadfast, simple faith, together with her devotion to God
and her patriotism, constitute her greatness. During her life in camp,
in Court, in her home, and in prison, she never forgot her womanly
ideals, though she was called upon to do a man's work; and she stands
to-day to all nations a shining example of pure and noble womanhood.
[Illustration: DOROTHY PAYNE MADISON]
DOROTHY PAYNE MADISON
(1772-1849)
"It is by woman that Nature writes on the hearts of men."
—_Richard Brinsley Sheridan_
Dollie Madison was born May 27, 1772, in North Carolina. Her father,
John Payne, was a native of Virginia, but he lived on a large
plantation in North Carolina which had been given him by his father.
He married Mary Coles, a noted belle and beauty, and their daughter
Dorothy inherited her mother's good looks.
In their home on the Southern plantation, the Paynes avoided all
display, although they enjoyed every comfort and were generous in
hospitality. The little Dorothy was brought up to dress quietly and
wear no finery. After their removal to Philadelphia, which occurred
when Dorothy was fourteen years of age, both John Payne and his wife,
already Quakers, became more strict in that creed than they had been
before. It was Mr. Payne's conviction—as it was of all Quakers in good
and regular standing—that slavery was sinful, and this belief led him
to free his slaves, sell his plantation and come North.
In their Northern home, the Quaker rules were rigidly carried out.
Though young and of a particularly gay and joyous disposition,
Dorothy—or "Dollie" as her friends called her—was forbidden such
pleasures as dancing, music, and many other amusements. All this
discipline, which we should call unnatural, Dollie received with
sweetness and cheerfulness. Her beautiful face reflected a beautiful
character.
Mr. Payne, who was untrained in business ways, met with financial
reverses, and in his troubles was aided by a young lawyer of wealth
named John Tod, also a member of the Society of Friends. This young
man, who had fallen in love with Dollie, showed Mr. Payne much
kindness, finally obtaining his consent to ask his daughter's hand in
marriage. When he proposed to Dorothy, however, she replied that she
"never meant to marry." But her father was ill at the time, and to
please him, Dorothy, like the dutiful daughter she had always been,
consented, and so had the satisfaction of making her father happy for
the remaining few months of his life.
After her marriage, Dollie lived for three years the life of a Quaker
matron, devoting herself to her husband, her home, and her two babies.
Then an epidemic of yellow fever broke out, and John Tod sent Dollie
and the babies away from the city while he remained to look after his
parents, who were both dying of the fever.
As soon as he could leave, and already ill, he hastened to his wife
and children. Mrs. Payne, Dollie's mother, opened the door for him. "I
feel the fever in my veins," he gasped, "but I must see her once more!"
In a few hours, he and one of the babies were dead. Dollie herself was
then stricken, and fatally, it was believed. She recovered, however,
and taking with her the remaining child, a boy whom she had named John
Payne after her father, Dollie went to her mother in Philadelphia.
These sad experiences broadened and deepened her lovely nature so that
she developed from a shy girl into an attractive woman. Her troubles
seemed only to increase the natural sweetness of her disposition and
enhance her beauty. These gifts, together with her youth and riches,
caused her to become the object of much curiosity and attention.
On a certain morning during her walk, she was seen by James Madison,
who immediately sought for an introduction. This undoubtedly flattered
Dollie, for Mr. Madison was a very prominent and important figure in
Congress, with a name celebrated throughout Europe and America. He had
worked with Washington, Franklin, and Hamilton to establish the United
States government on a firm basis, so that he has since been called the
Father of the Constitution.
In a letter to her friend Mrs. Lee, Dollie wrote:
DEAR FRIEND:
Thou must come to me. Aaron Burr says that the "great-little Madison"
has asked to be brought to see me this evening....
When he came, Mrs. Tod received him in a fine mulberry satin gown, with
silk tulle about her neck and a dainty lace cap on her head, a curl of
her pretty black hair showing from underneath. She so sparkled with fun
and wit that the scholarly Mr. Madison concluded that there was nothing
to do but to offer himself as a husband, and before long they became
engaged.
President and Mrs. Washington were much pleased when they heard of this
and sent for Dollie to come to them. Mrs. Washington said, "Be not
ashamed to confess it, if it is so," for Dollie was shy and confused.
Then she added,
"He will make thee a good husband and all the better for being so
much older. We both approve of it. The esteem and friendship existing
between Mr. Madison and my husband is very great and we would wish thee
to be happy."
Dollie was just twenty-two years of age and Mr. Madison forty-four. In
September, 1794, at Harewood, Virginia, the home of Dollie's sister
who had become the wife of a nephew of Washington, Mrs. Tod and James
Madison were married. The guests came from far and near, and there was
much merrymaking and gaiety at the wedding; even the quiet, reserved
bridegroom became transformed and permitted the girls to cut off bits
of Mechlin lace from his ruffled shirt as mementoes.
The bride and groom went first to Montpelier, Virginia, Mr. Madison's
home, but soon returned to Philadelphia, where, at the request of her
husband, Dollie, laying aside her Quaker dress, entered society and
began to entertain largely. Her tact and kindness of heart won every
one, and at a time when party spirit ran high and political differences
caused bitter feeling, Mrs. Madison entertained with dignity and
elegance, slighting no one, hurting the feelings of none, and sometimes
making friends out of foes.
When Washington died, Mr. and Mrs. Madison were among his sincere
mourners, and helped to comfort the lonely widow for the loss of
her greathearted husband. When Thomas Jefferson became President of
the United States, James Madison was made Secretary of State. Mr.
Jefferson, being a widower, and requiring a lady to assist at his state
banquets, often called upon Mrs. Madison to sit at the head of his
table in the White House. Her charms especially fitted her for such a
position.
After Jefferson had served two terms as President, James Madison was
elected to fill his place. At the inauguration ball Mrs. Madison wore a
gown of buff-colored velvet, a turban with a bird of paradise plume on
her head, and pearls on her beautiful neck and arms.
During the first years of Madison's administration, while national
affairs were going on smoothly, Mrs. Madison's entertainments at the
White House were many and popular. She had the rare gift never to
forget a name and the faculty of putting people at their ease, and thus
banishing shyness and stiffness. Her receptions were never dull. Her
sparkling conversation drew the best minds to her, and the ease with
which she met strangers was remarkable.
She was kind alike to rich and poor, and gave generously of her wealth
to the deserving. To her husband she was an able adviser, her sound
common sense and good judgment often helping him in his decisions of
public matters. President Madison said that, when he was tired and worn
out from matters of state, a visit to his wife's sitting-room never
failed to rest him.
But national affairs were not to remain quiet. Trouble had long been
brewing with England. The commerce of the United States had been almost
entirely destroyed by acts of the British. The Atlantic coast from
north to south was blockaded by them and many American seamen were
impressed. Washington and Adams had managed to avert this war, but now
matters were come to a crisis: the whole nation was inflamed, and on
June 18, 1812, Congress formally declared war.
As most of the fighting was done at sea, life at the capital went
on undisturbed until August 19th, when it began to be rumored that
the British were coming to attack Washington. The rumor became a
certainty when a horseman dashed through the villages forty miles below
Washington, shouting:
"To arms! Cockburn is coming!"
The English had landed five thousand men and were marching toward the
capital. Washington was in a state of panic. Citizens banded together
for defence and marched to meet the enemy. On August 22, President
Madison bade farewell to his wife and left for the front. Up to this
time Mrs. Madison had been without fear, but now, learning that the
American ships had been destroyed and knowing that her husband was in
danger, she became very uneasy.
The work of saving records was at once begun. Important papers were
piled into wheelbarrows and carts and carried away. At three o'clock,
August 24, Mrs. Madison sat anxiously waiting for some word from her
husband. She refused to leave the White House until a large portrait
of General Washington was saved, and time being too short to admit of
its being unscrewed from the wall, she gave the order to have the frame
broken with an axe and the canvas taken out. It was sent in a carriage
to a woman living beyond Georgetown, who afterward returned it to Mrs.
Madison. It now hangs in the White House again.
A hurried note from the President bade her be in readiness to leave in
a carriage at a moment's notice, for it was feared the British would
destroy the city. Soon her worst fears were realized, for sounds of
approaching troops were heard. Two gentlemen rushed into the room,
exclaiming:
"Fly, madam! At once! The British are upon us!"
Mrs. Madison suddenly remembered that the Declaration of Independence,
which was kept in a case separate from other documents, had been
overlooked when the other papers were sent away. She turned, and
notwithstanding the protests of her friends, ran into the house, broke
the glass in the case, secured the Declaration, and then jumped into
the carriage, which took her to the home of a friend in Georgetown.
Washington could be rebuilt and many valuable articles which were
destroyed could be replaced, but the Declaration of Independence once
gone would have been lost forever.
That night, few people in or near the city of Washington slept.
Instead, they watched the flames destroying the beautiful city, for the
British had set fire to the public buildings, the President's house,
the new Capitol, the Library of Congress, the Treasury Buildings, the
Arsenal and Barracks, besides many private buildings, and the wind from
an approaching storm fanned the flames, thus completing the fearful
destruction.
Before daybreak, Mrs. Madison left her retreat and traveled to a
small tavern, sixteen miles from Washington, where her husband met
her. Shortly, word was brought to them that the hiding place of the
President had been discovered, and that the British were even then in
pursuit of him. Mrs. Madison induced him to retreat at once to a small
house in the woods, while she started for Washington, first disguising
herself, for the English had said that they were going to capture the
beautiful woman and take her to England.
President Madison, however, learning that the British had evacuated
Washington, returned to the city that night. His wife had also reached
there in safety. The burning of Washington filled the hearts of
Americans with indignation, and even in England many condemned the act
of Admiral Cockburn, saying that it was "a return to barbaric times."
After three years of fierce conflict, the peace treaty between England
and the United States was signed at Ghent, on December 24, 1814. Every
one was glad, but no one more so than President Madison, who had been
drawn by his party into the war and who was greatly criticized and
blamed for it. The President and his wife now took a large house on
Pennsylvania Avenue. The brilliancy of social life at the White House
had never been equaled before Dollie Madison's time, and it is doubtful
if it has been since.
In 1817, James Monroe became President and Mr. Madison retired to
Montpelier, Virginia, where he and his wife entertained with true
Virginian hospitality the many friends and tourists who came to
visit them. Their home was a beautiful one, containing many artistic
treasures. Here they lived happily until Mr. Madison's death in 1836.
Soon after her husband's death, Mrs. Madison returned to Washington to
live among her old friends, and after a time her home again became a
social center. Much consideration was shown her by Congress and by high
officials, who respected her for her worthy and honorable life, and for
her heroism during the burning of Washington.
During her latter years she was saddened by the dissolute habits of her
only son, Payne Tod, whose debts had been frequently paid by President
Madison and who now appealed to his mother for money. To save him from
disgrace she even sold her beloved Montpelier.
Dollie Madison died in Washington, July 12, 1849, at the age of
eighty-two, and was buried in the cemetery at Montpelier beside her
husband.
Lossing says: "Mrs. Madison adorned every station in life in which she
was placed."
[Illustration: MRS. FRY READING TO THE PRISONERS IN NEWGATE PRISON
_From an old engraving_]
ELIZABETH FRY
(1780-1845)
"A lamp is lit in woman's eyes
That souls, else lost on earth,
Remember angels by."
—_N. P. Willis_
In Warwick, England, lived a family of Quakers named Gurney. They were
not "plain Quakers" at that time, which means that they did not wear
plain clothes and refrain from the use of ornaments, nor did they
refuse to take part in the pleasures of the world, as strict Quakers
are supposed to do. The children, nevertheless, were brought up in
accordance with the doctrines of the Bible, very rigidly interpreted.
Mrs. Gurney, a woman of fine education and sound judgment, instructed
her little daughters in English, mathematics, literature, Latin and
French, and in domestic duties. They were taught to sew and to make
plain garments, to oversee the preparation of the meals, and if
necessary, to do the cooking. Very great care was taken with their
manners, for Mrs. Gurney believed that gentleness and polite behavior
were necessary in women.
Elizabeth, the third child, born May 21, 1780, who became the famous
Elizabeth Fry, was frail in health, and so nervous that she was afraid
of the dark. To cure her of this, her father compelled her to go to bed
without a light—a treatment that only increased her nervousness and
fear. So firmly was the memory of this severe punishment fixed in the
child's mind that, when she married and had children of her own, she
never permitted any method of discipline that tended to cause fear.
Elizabeth had not a tractable disposition, but was inclined to be
wilful, obstinate, and opinionated. Even as a child, she would act
independently. This pronounced trait in her character, so objectionable
in youth, enabled her in later years to do many things worth while, in
the face of unreasonable opposition.
Her mother died when Elizabeth was twelve years old. As she grew older,
she gradually broke loose from her Quaker training and began to think
more about dress and adornments; she even learned to dance, and enjoyed
going into society. But, while enjoying these pleasures, she all the
while realized that she was not really happy. Then she tried to find
out the reason. She went among the poor and helped them, but this was
no more than all Quakers did. She feared that she was becoming more and
more satisfied with the light, pleasant, easy things of life, while the
great and good things that might be done ever haunted her, and called
to her to regard them.
At this time a traveling Quaker preacher named William Savery, a man
of great force and a powerful and compelling speaker, came over from
America. He addressed a meeting of Friends which the Gurney sisters
attended, including Elizabeth, all sitting in a row on the women's
side in the Meeting-House. These young girls wore some ornaments and
were more elaborately dressed than the other Quaker girls. When the
speaker touched on this matter of adornment and in a gentle, tender
voice pleaded for the customs of the plain Quakers, Elizabeth was much
affected; all her pleasures seemed to her sinful, and she wept bitterly.
Afterward she had long talks with William Savery, in the course
of which, it is said, he prophesied her future. His words changed
Elizabeth utterly; she cared no more for the world and its pleasures.
Her father, to test the genuineness of her conversion, induced her to
visit friends in London who lived in the midst of gaiety. There, she
attended the theater, but was not interested; she danced, but found it
dreary; she played cards, but was wearied. All the enjoyments of former
times failed to satisfy her. She returned home, and after several
months spent in meditation, finally came to the conclusion that, for
her at least, those things were wrong; that, for her, life held more
important duties. She then gave up all amusements, began to use the
"thee" and "thou" of the strict sect, adopted the close cap and plain
kerchief of the Quakeress, and preached at meetings.
Once her mind had cleared, she never wavered in the belief that her
life must be devoted to works of charity. She began by opening a school
for poor children. She was only nineteen, very youthful-looking and
very pretty. Everybody wondered how she could govern this school of
seventy wild street-children, who had never before known restraint.
While she was occupied with this school, a young Quaker from London,
named Joseph Fry, fell in love with her and proposed marriage. At first
Elizabeth thought she could not accept Joseph's offer; that to marry
would interfere with her plans. But the young man was deeply interested
in benevolent work, himself, and had sufficient means to assist her in
her projects.
So they were married at Norwich, and later their home at St. Mildred's
Court, London, became a meeting place for Quakers from all parts of the
world. Instead of card-games and dancing for their entertainment, the
visitors in this house heard discussions of plans for the formation of
poorhouses, schools, and hospitals for the poor.
In 1809, Elizabeth's father died; and on her knees by his bedside,
Elizabeth again vowed to devote her life to the service of God. She now
lived in Plashet, Essex, the country seat of her husband's family. With
growing children of her own about her and great numbers of guests, one
might suppose that she had all she could possibly do. Nevertheless, she
found time to open a girls' school for street-children, to organize a
soup kitchen, a drug-store, and a library for them, while in her own
home she kept a collection of clothes of all sorts with which to clothe
them.
When this enterprise was well established and the poor people about her
made comfortable, Mrs. Fry turned her attention to the great prison
at Newgate, London, where conditions were reported to be shocking.
In company with officials and a party of friends, she made her first
visit, in 1813. They found things much worse than they had been led to
believe.
Mrs. Fry at once determined to reform prison life. Illness in the
family delayed this project for nearly three years; but the idea never
left her until at last the work was begun. The life of the prisoners in
Newgate, and in all prisons at that time, was too harrowing to be here
described.
The public listened to her reports, were properly shocked, but scoffed
at the bare idea of Elizabeth Fry as a reformer. For a _woman_ to
attempt such a work was absurd! Mrs. Fry paid no attention to what was
said, but went straight ahead. She began by establishing a school for
the prisoners' children, and gave the wretched women prisoners work for
which they were paid. Before this, being idle, they had spent their
time quarreling, fighting and gambling; now, when they could earn a
little money, their behavior began to improve.
Soon Parliament took an interest in this work, ordering an
investigation. When the wonderful reforms she had accomplished became
known, Mrs. Fry was the most famous woman in England. Queen Victoria
expressed a desire to become acquainted with her, and a meeting was
arranged which has been described as follows:
Her Majesty's small figure, her dress ablaze with diamonds, her
courtesy and kindness as she spoke to the now celebrated Quakeress,
who stood outwardly calm in the costume of her creed and just a little
flushed with the unwonted excitement, attracted universal homage. The
two women spoke, and cheer after cheer went up from the crowd gathered
about.
The Court learned that day that there was in goodness and benevolence
something better than fashion and nobler than rank.
Mrs. Fry's work for the poor and unfortunate took her to the prisons of
many lands, and everywhere honors were bestowed upon her. She died at
the age of sixty, October 13, 1845.
[Illustration: LUCRETIA MOTT]
LUCRETIA MOTT
(1793-1880)
"There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire which
beams and blazes in the dark hours of adversity."
—_Washington Irving_
Born on the quaint little island of Nantucket, January 3, 1793,
Lucretia Coffin grew to girlhood among peaceful and beautiful
surroundings. Her father was Captain of a whaler and was, consequently,
often away from home for long periods of time, so that the mother was
responsible for the early training of the children.
Lucretia and her sisters were taught to be thrifty in household
matters, and trustworthy in all the relations of life. Industry, too,
was greatly encouraged in the Coffin family. When the mother had to
go out, she would set her daughters at their knitting, telling them
that when they had accomplished a certain amount of work, they might
go down into the cellar and pick out as many of the small potatoes as
they wanted, and roast them. This was considered a great treat, and we
can picture the six little children gathered about the big fireplace
watching the potatoes in the ashes.
Captain Coffin gave up the sea at last and moved his family to Boston,
where he entered into business. The children at first attended a
private school, but Captain Coffin, who was nothing if not democratic,
decided afterward that they should go to the public school, where they
might "mingle with all classes without distinction." Lucretia said in
after life that she was glad of this action of her father. "It gave me
a feeling of sympathy for the patient and struggling poor, whom but for
this experience, I might never have known."
At thirteen years of age, Lucretia was sent to a Friends' boarding
school at Nine Partners, New York. Both boys and girls attended this
school, but were not permitted to speak to each other unless they
were near relatives. In that case they might talk together a little
while, on certain days, over a corner of the fence that divided the
playgrounds.
One of Lucretia's sisters—"the desirable little Elizabeth," as her
father called her—accompanied her to this school. These sisters,
although very different in character, loved each other with a
peculiarly deep affection. Elizabeth, though clever, was retiring in
disposition and always kept in the background, while Lucretia, who was
high-spirited and wide awake, was inclined to take the lead among her
companions. Throughout their lives they remained devoted friends, and
although Elizabeth could never be persuaded to take any part in public
life, she counseled and advised her distinguished sister, who seldom
took any important action without consulting her.
At this school, on the boys' side of the house, was an able young
teacher named James Mott. It happened one day that a little boy, a
cousin of James Mott, was punished by being confined in a dark closet,
being allowed only bread and water for his supper. Lucretia, who
thought the boy had not been at fault, managed to get some bread and
butter to him. This act attracted the attention of James Mott to the
girl, and afterward his sister Sarah, who also attended the school,
became Lucretia's most intimate friend. During one of the vacations,
Lucretia visited Sarah Mott and thus met the family into which she
afterward married.
When fifteen years old, Lucretia became assistant teacher in this
school, at a salary of one hundred dollars a year. Her father, who
thought women should be trained to usefulness, gave his consent to
have Lucretia remain away from home for this extra year, which proved
to be an eventful one for her. The two young teachers, James Mott and
Lucretia Coffin, found that they had many ideas in common. Both had
ability and both were desirous of gaining knowledge. They formed a
French class and it was while studying together that their attachment
began.
It was at this time, also, that Lucretia became impressed with the
unequal condition of women as compared with that of men. She said:
"Learning that the charge for the tuition of girls was the same as that
for boys, and that when they became teachers, women received only half
as much as men for their services, the injustice of this distinction
was so apparent that I early resolved to claim for myself all that an
impartial Creator had bestowed." She little thought at the time what an
important part she would play in supporting that claim.
While the two sisters were at school, their father gave up his business
in Boston and took charge of a factory in Philadelphia, where Lucretia
and Elizabeth joined him in 1810. Soon after, James Mott resigned
his position as teacher and followed them to Philadelphia, entering
business life. In a short time, he and Lucretia became engaged. These
two young people were just different enough to live in harmony together.
Lucretia was a bright, active and very pretty girl, quick to understand
and quick to execute,—qualities that often made her impatient with the
slowness or stupidity of others. She was fond of a joke, too.
James, on the other hand, was quiet, reserved and shy, taking serious
views of life. In 1811, they were married according to Quaker rites.
Then began one of the happiest of wedded lives,—and in spite of
privations, for James Mott always found it difficult to support his
family.
When Lucretia's father died, leaving her mother with three children
to support, the Motts did all they could to help her. Lucretia opened
a school for the purpose, and soon afterward her husband's business
ventures prospered, so that he, too, could assist.
Just as their prospects were brightening, however, there came a severe
blow in the death of their only son. Lucretia then gave up teaching and
spent a great deal of time in the study of the Bible and of theology.
She used to read William Penn, Dean Stanley, and John Stuart Mill with
her baby on her knee.
Soon she took her place as a preacher in the Society of Friends,
feeling "called," as she tells us, "to a public life of usefulness";
and during the latter part of the year 1818, she accompanied another
minister named Sarah Zane to Virginia, for the purpose of holding
religious meetings. Here Mrs. Mott came into contact with the question
of slavery, and in all her discourses she never failed to urge the
doctrine of emancipation. She believed in liberty of the body and
liberty of thought; indeed, her belief in liberty may be said to have
been the basis of all her sermons.
The Quakers who held slaves freed them as early as 1774. The Society
of Friends, to which Mr. and Mrs. Mott belonged, became so interested
in the slavery question as to recommend that any goods produced by
slave-labor should not be handled by any Quaker in regular standing.
Mr. Mott was at that time engaged in a prosperous cotton business,
but consistent with his views, he gave up this business,—for a while
finding great difficulty in making a living.
In 1833, the Female Anti-Slavery Society was formed in Philadelphia.
Mrs. Mott was one of four women who, braving public opinion, gave
their voices to the cause of Freedom. She was President of the society
during most of its existence; and it was due mainly to her inspiring
presence, her courage and activity, and her unfailing dignity, that the
society accomplished its great work.
She sheltered fugitive slaves, everywhere befriended the colored
people, and traveled from place to place preaching the doctrine of
liberty.
Young people of the present time can hardly understand the bitter and
fierce opposition encountered by those people who were working to
free the slaves. For many years, public feeling on the subject was
so intense that many anti-slavery meetings were broken up by acts
of violence. Sometimes mobs of men and women stoned the windows of
the houses where these meetings were being held, breaking into the
assemblage, leaping upon the platform, and shouting so loudly that the
speaker's voice was lost in the noise.
In 1838, during a riot in Philadelphia, a mob burned Pennsylvania Hall,
and then marched through the streets threatening an attack upon the
house of James and Lucretia Mott. Mrs. Mott sent her children out of
the house to a place of safety, and she, with her husband and a few
friends, sat quietly waiting for the mob. Before it reached the house,
however, the leaders urged the rioters to attack a home for colored
orphans in another part of the city, and so the raid upon the Mott
house was given up for that night.