Ruth and Naomi.
 
 r 1 1 !; 
 
 HEROINES OF DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. OCTAVIUS FREIRE OWEN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "HEROINES OF HISTORY," " RAISED TO THE PEEKAGK, 
 BTC. ETC. 
 
 ' There are homesteads which have witness' d deeds 
 That battle-fields, with all their banner'd pomp, 
 Have little to compare with. Life's great play 
 May, so it have an actor great enough, 
 Be well perform'd upon a humble stage." 
 
 WBSTLAND MARSTOIT. 
 
 E3DITIO1T. 
 
 LONDON: 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, 
 
 THE BROADWAT, LUDGATE ; 
 Nk:\V YORK: <l(i U ROD ME .STREET.

 
 m 
 
 4 
 
 
 
 TO 
 
 MISS ANGELA BURDETT COUTTS, 
 
 WHOSE CONSISTENT AND UNOSTENTATIOUS PHILANTHROPY ATTESTS 
 HER APPRECIATION OF THE VIRTUES THESE PAGES EXHIBIT, 
 
 are Bc&tcateft, 
 
 BY 
 
 
 
 THE AUTHORESS. 
 
 t 
 
 ^OCVI *^M cr 
 *JU*J 1 O 1 o
 
 
 * 
 

 
 
 PftEEACE. 
 
 THE aphorisms of great men are not always to be 
 taken unreservedly ; since in them the world encou- 
 rages the license of assumption. Thus, when Dr. 
 Johnson declared "that character to be the best, 
 which does little but repeated acts of benevolence," 
 and styled " heroic deeds the bon-mots of society, 
 which occurred seldom, and were too highly thought 
 of;" it is obvious that his remarks, though mainly 
 true, are not to be entirely accepted. 
 
 The present age, whilst it deprecates moral or intel- 
 lectual energy being urged forward into pretentious- 
 ness, has grown too accurate in its appreciation of the 
 relative duties of the sexes, to permit either to ignore 
 responsibility, by consuming life in selfish ease. No 
 man or woman has a right to become a mere cipher 
 in existence, and both are called upon to imitate Him 
 who " deems it not beneath the dignity of His tran- 
 scendent majesty, to work unceasingly for all." To 
 draw, therefore, from the great moralist's expressions, 
 any discouragement to the practice of those heroic
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 virtues which seek not notoriety, yet cannot escape it, 
 would be to pervert not less the truth than, possibly, 
 the meaning of the speaker. 
 
 An invidious desire to restrict woman's legitimate 
 influence, is no new thing ; and although the universal 
 increase of education confessedly demands her propor- 
 tionate advancement, to keep pace with the day, we 
 find narrow prejudice still striving to depress her in 
 the social scale. In his defence of female education, 
 Sidney Smith strongly animadverts upon this tendency. 
 " Nothing," he observes, " requires more vigilance than 
 the current phrases of the day, of which there are 
 always some resorted to, in every dispute, and from 
 whose sovereign authority it is often vain to appeal. 
 ' The true theatre for a woman is a sick chamber : ' 
 ' Nothing is so honourable to a woman as not to be 
 spoken of at all.' These two phrases, the delight of 
 Noodledom, are grown into common-places on the 
 subject, and are not unfrequently employed to extin- 
 guish that love of knowledge in women, which, in our 
 humble opinion, it is of so much importance to 
 cherish." He adds significantly, " the great use of 
 her knowledge will be, that it contributes to her 
 private happiness." 
 
 The real answer, however, to those casuists who. 
 impugn whatever may lead woman out of that 
 inane repose, in which they seek to keep her, is 
 derived from facts themselves. Any virtue elicited 
 by a great event, becomes, ipso facto, matter of history,
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 and therefore celebrated ; yet this does not invali- 
 date its claim to be essentially domestic. Feminine 
 heroism comprehends those elements which make 
 better wives, mothers, and daughters ; and if circum- 
 stances reveal such characteristics as devotion, fidelity, 
 piety, unselfishness, in their highest culmination, we 
 can no more ignore them, than we can repudiate 
 those plants, which, growing unobtrusive in the forest, 
 restore a nation to health, disarm infection, or miti- 
 gate the agony of death. In a similar manner, domestic 
 heroism desires not fame, which is alien to its very 
 nature, yet becomes of public import, as its unas- 
 suming virtue spreads from the cottage to the 
 throne, cheers the home or the hospital, and alle- 
 viates even the scaffold and the gaol. 
 
 Still, it cannot be denied that association with 
 aspects of severer duty, is apt to give a masculine 
 hardness to the mind and the manners, inauspicious 
 to feminine delicacy, the especially graceful attribute 
 of the sex. The constant habit of thinking for herself, 
 of ruling rather than obeying, nay, even conversance 
 with subjects of hospital and camp life, wears off from 
 woman, under such circumstances, her soft and gentle 
 character. Our observation may be thought strange ; 
 but we think that such heroines never proved their 
 claim to the appellation more, than when they volun- 
 tarily sacrificed the attractiveness of feminine sensibi- 
 lity, by the exercise of self-imposed obnoxious offices. 
 Possibly upon this result, the jealousy of allowing
 
 Till PREFACE. 
 
 women a more active sphere, is founded. The heart, 
 like the hand, gets coarse by familiarity with rough- 
 ness, and, to sensitive minds, certain pursuits would 
 be simply intolerable ; but here constitutional dispo- 
 sition comes in, and the natural tendency of the in- 
 dividual predisposes to such practice. In fact, each 
 follows his or her bias ; so that often, except where 
 physical suffering is concerned, a heroine has volun- 
 tarily chosen a path she need never have entered upon. 
 Yet, after all, what is life but one appeal to duty ? Or 
 what are its functions, but demands upon submission 
 to the severest discipline ? So long, therefore, as the 
 obligation rests upon both sexes, to " bear one another's 
 burdens," those elements must be encouraged in 
 woman, which qualify her the better to discharge her 
 responsibility. 
 
 There is an evil in the present day, which particu- 
 larly calls for the study of pure models of excellence. 
 We allude to the all-pervading proneness to selfish 
 luxury, which is a sad impediment to woman's 
 work. Whatever, then, can direct the mind to noble 
 example, checks this tendency to perversion from our 
 being's high end and aim ; " for all education of the 
 sex upon dignified and important subjects, multiplies, 
 beyond measure, the chances of human improvement, 
 by preparing and medicating those early impressions, 
 which, in a great majority of instances, are quite 
 decisive of character and genius." 
 
 If, indeed, the sex would entitle itself to the quaint
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 compliment of Malherbe, that " the Creator may have 
 repented of having formed man, but never woman," it 
 is clear that graver thoughts of her true destiny, must 
 be imparted into the old system of educating her 
 to be merely a pretty puppet in the drawing-room. 
 Hence, such subjects have been selected as stand 
 highest in the roll of fame ; this series being devoted 
 especially to the illustration of the domestic virtues. 
 To condense is more difficult than to elaborate ; but 
 it will be well if these records stimulate examina- 
 tion of fuller biographies ; and although courage, con- 
 jugal and filial piety, philanthropy, and self-culture, 
 may impart an unavoidable resemblance to such 
 annals, for, alas, the list of human virtues is soon 
 run out, though never fulfilled ! yet the variety of 
 circumstances, as well as of individual constitution, 
 presents ample materials for thought. 
 
 To enhance such motives, therefore, as, while they 
 discourage assumption, teach woman to endure her 
 chief lesson in this life ! and unselfishly to support 
 others her main prerogative ! at a period when 
 her greater activity is demanded, is the object of this 
 work. But let it be remembered that true greatness 
 is of Nature, not of Art, and that Heroism cannot 
 be instilled. It must be instinctive ; and though it 
 may be imitated, yet its primary elements cannot 
 be acquired. Education may teach us to shun the 
 shoals, but it can as little construct the ruling 
 mind, which guides the vessel over them, as create
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 those tides which prostrate all obstacles, by the resist- 
 less energy of an indomitable will. Virtue, genius, 
 greatness, are of loftier source, and like happiness, 
 belong to a brighter sphere than this ; the artist can 
 imitate, but cannot inspire his model ; and though 
 Prometheus is said to have formed the fairest image 
 of humanity, the vivifying spark which taught the 
 soul and eye to speak, was caught from heaven ! 
 
 E. 0. 
 
 23, CARLTON HILL EAST, 
 ST. JOHN'S WOOD. Oct. 1850.
 
 ANNE ASKEW 
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET ................................... 105 
 
 POCAHONTAS.... ......................................... 137 
 
 LUCY IIUTCHINSON .................................... 151 
 
 LADY RACHEL RUSSELL .............................. 171 
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE .................................... 187 
 
 WINIFRED, COUNTESS OP NITHSDALE ............... 219 
 
 HELEN WALKER . 235
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 RVIH 1 
 
 ANTIGONE 9 
 
 PANTHEA 19 
 
 EPONINA 29 
 
 GERTRUDE VON DER WART 41 
 
 MARGARET ROPER 53 
 
 ANNE ASKEW 89 
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET 105 
 
 POCAHONTAS.... 137 
 
 LUCY HUTCHINSON 151 
 
 LADY RACHEL RUSSELL 171 
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE 187 
 
 WINIFRED, COUNTESS OF NITHSDALE 219 
 
 HELEN WALKER ., 235
 
 Xll CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 FLORA MACDONALD 249 
 
 LOUISE SCHEPLER 285 
 
 EMILIE DE LAVALETTE 307 
 
 ELIZABETH FRY 319 
 
 PRASCA LOUPOULOFF 337 
 
 SARAH MARTIN 353 
 
 GRACE DARLING 367 
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE .. 351
 
 " Love is not love 
 
 "Which alters when it alteration finds, 
 Or bends with the remover to remove : 
 Oh, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark 
 That looks on tempests and is never shaken ; 
 It is the star to every wandering bark 
 
 worth 's unknown, although his height 
 
 be taken," 
 
 8HAKSPEARE.
 
 ABOCT B.C. 1322. 
 
 SCRIPTURE is sometimes wronged of certain striking 
 aspects under which its contents may be viewed, by 
 being considered solely as a revelation for redeeming 
 man ; whereas it is no unimportant point connected 
 with this most marvellous volume, that it compre- 
 hends the siibject-matter of every science, and teems 
 with narrations of individual life and character. 
 Under this regard comes the Book of Ruth, con- 
 taining the history of a Moabitess, who has passed 
 down to modern ages as the mirror of constancy, 
 which is placed in our Bibles between the Book of 
 Judges and those of Samuel, as being the sequel of the 
 former and an introduction to the latter. Probably 
 its author was Samuel himself, and he has carefully 
 marked the time of its occurrences as subsequent to 
 the rule of the Judges ; the mention of David proves 
 that the book was composed during his time. The 
 authenticity of the record has never been disputed, 
 B 2
 
 4 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 and St. Matthew refers to Ruth in his genealogy of 
 our Saviour ; but some variation as to its chronology 
 is incident to the different points it is made to occupy 
 in the tables of the Rabbins. By some it is supposed 
 that Boaz, the husband of Ruth, was the same as 
 Ibzan, who judged Israel about A.M. 2823, between 
 Jephthah and Elon ; others, again, confine the story to 
 the time of Ehud, and the servitude of Israel to Eglon, 
 king of Moab. We find it, moreover, assigned to the 
 epoch of Barak, Gideon, Abimelech, and Shamgar 
 respectively ; but whatever diversity of opinion may 
 exist as to the date, the simplicity and straight- 
 forwardness of the persons mentioned in the narrative 
 are no less conspicuous than the independence of the 
 writer, who does not hesitate to trace the royal house 
 of David to a foreign family, in circumstances of 
 the greatest poverty. As to the character and de- 
 portment of Ruth herself, they will ever appear to 
 reflect, in striking lustre, the qualities of filial piety, 
 devotion to duty, and a single-hearted innocence truly 
 sublime. 
 
 Her history is as follows : Born in the country of 
 Moab, she had married Chilion, the son of Elimelech 
 and Naomi, two Israelites of wealthy and influential 
 connection, who had emigrated during a famine. 
 Isaomi wan shortly afterwards deprived of her hus- 
 band and both her sons; so that, being reduced to great 
 distress, she resolved, upon returning to Bethlehem, at 
 the same time representing to her widowed daughters-
 
 BUTH. 
 
 in -law the policy of their abiding in Moab, in con sequence 
 of the very small expectation she entertained of being 
 able to support them in Judaea. This discussion re- 
 vealed the constancy and fidelity of Ruth towards 
 her aged relative, in marked contrast to the beha- 
 viour of Orpah, who had married her other son, and 
 who yielded to the strong test of sincere devotion 
 Naomi's proposition imposed by " going back," as she 
 expressed it, "to her people and to her gods." This 
 addition to the speech, especially when collated with 
 Ruth's answer, proves that the latter had already be- 
 come a proselyte to Judaism : faith in the one true 
 God constituting the groundwork of her devotion to 
 her whose affliction she was so willing to share. Few 
 instances occur, even in Scripture narrative, where 
 pious self-abnegation, and unaffected dedication of the 
 heart at the shrine of dutiful love, are more beauti- 
 fully portrayed than in her touching, yet decided 
 reply, " Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return 
 from following thee ; for whither thou goest I will 
 go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge : thy people 
 shall be my people, and thy God my God. Whex-e 
 thou diest," she even goes on to say with the wildness, 
 as it were, of earnest abandonment, " will I die, and 
 there will I be buried : the Lord do so to me, and 
 more also, if aught but death part thee and me." 
 The whole of her speech declared, not only a thorough 
 renunciation of the errors of idolatry, but a resolution 
 to cleave to the truth through evil report and good
 
 6 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 report. It has been said that the power of faith 
 will often shine forth the most where the character is 
 naturally weak, since there is less to intercept and 
 interfere with its workings j but, however this may 
 be, it is no less true that dispositions of firm, though 
 mild quality are materially enhanced in their develop- 
 ment by the instrumentality of adverse circum- 
 stances, which, as in the case of Ruth, conduct the 
 agent through difficult paths by the light of faith and 
 holy principle. Equally void of superstition as of that 
 stern obduracy which not unfrequently misrepresents 
 egotism or selfishness as conscientious zeal, she was 
 
 O 
 
 dutiful, yet, at the call of faith, uncompromising; 
 and her conduct combines the tender simplicity of the 
 child, with the calm fortitude and thoughtfulness of 
 the woman. 
 
 Upon her return to her own country, Naomi found 
 herself without friends or means of support, and 
 although she was aware that her husband's kinsman, 
 Boaz, " was a mighty man of wealth," yet it does not 
 appear that she directed Ruth to apply to him, in the 
 first instance. On the contrary, the young widow is 
 described as going out to glean in the fields to support 
 Vier mother and herself, and " lighting," doubtless ac- 
 cording to the overruling designs of Providence, yet 
 with no premeditation of her own, upon the fields of her 
 rich relative. His attention was drawn to her in con- 
 sequence of the favourable report he had heard of her 
 conduct towards Naomi, and he not only authorized her
 
 RUTH. 1 
 
 to refresh herself trom the provisions for his labourers, 
 but with genuine and delicate kindness, directed the 
 reapers to let fall " some of the handfuls on purpose 
 for her." The lines of Mrs. Hemans are too descriptive 
 for us to omit their quotation : 
 
 "Oh! forlorn 
 
 Yet not forsaken Ruth ! I see thee stand 
 Lone, 'midst the gladness oi the harvest band ; 
 Lone as a wood-bird on the ocean's foam 
 Fall'n in its weariness. Thy fatherland 
 Smiles far away ! Yet to the sense of home, 
 That finest, purest which can recognize 
 Home in Affection's glance, for ever true 
 Beats thy calm heart." 
 
 Naomi then discovered to Ruth the affinity between 
 Boaz and herself, and directed her secretly to claim 
 the protection which the Jewish law enjoined towards 
 distressed relatives. An interview accordingly took 
 place under circumstances which set forth the integrity 
 and uprightness of Boaz in a remarkable degree ; and 
 he, aware that Naomi had a nearer kinsman than him- 
 self, fulfilled the obligations of consanguinity, by giving 
 him the option of marrying Ruth and redeeming her 
 estate, and, finally, upon his refusal, became her hus- 
 band. The tenderness which united the mother-in- 
 law and the fair Moabitess was cemented still more 
 strongly by the birth of a son, Obed, the grandfather 
 of David. Naomi, we are told, took the child and 
 laid it in her bosom, and became nurse to it, her 
 affection to the house of Ruth being so entire, that
 
 8 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the neighbours spoke of the new-born babe as though 
 it were her own offspring, and characterized Ruth's love 
 as being better than that of seven sons. The sacred 
 history goes no further than to afford a brief genealogy ^ 
 probably because its object, consistent with the tenor 
 of the other Scriptures, is not to gratify curiosity, but 
 to enforce truth and record instruction. Still the oat- 
 line of this fair type of female character may be filled 
 up in thought, and the heart must be callous indeed 
 to the attractions of essential goodness, which does nat 
 dwell with fondness upon the memory of one pure in 
 her suffering as in her prosperity, and unchanged in 
 her piety by either.
 
 'That still face 
 
 Had once been fair ; for on the clear arch'd brow, 
 And the curved lip, there lingers yet such grace 
 As sculpture gives its dreams ; and long and low 
 The deep black lashes o'er the half-shut eye 
 For death was on its lids fell moiirnfully. 
 But the cold cheek was sunk, the raven hair 
 Dimm'd, the slight form all wasted as by care." 
 
 MRS. HEMANS.
 
 B.C. 1225. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the period at which the circumstances of 
 our heroine's life occurred, invests them with a portion 
 of the mythical mist of tradition, yet there is little 
 doubt that she was not only a real character, but 
 distinguished for remarkable proofs of that filial 
 and sisterly love which has made her instanced in 
 all ages as 
 
 " The father's staff, the brother's friend." 
 
 She was the daughter of CEdipus, king of Thebes, 
 and Jocasta ; and the romantic history of her parents 
 has been one of the most favourite themes of ancient 
 poets. Before we pass on to her own particular life, 
 we may remark that mythology, or what is called, per- 
 haps, more properly, the fabulous era of history, is not 
 to be wholly spurned as if altogether untrue, nor 
 accepted merely as an exercise for schoolboys, or a 
 topic for imaginative rhymesters. Like those curious 
 shells, or cases, in which the cadis and other insects
 
 12 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 hide themselves, composed of various materials amal- 
 gamated in fantastic shapes by a singular adhesion, yet 
 affording habitation for life within, so mythology holds 
 inherently the germ, in many instances, of some fact ; 
 is often the vehicle of even a scriptural truth ; but 
 the tides of Time have rolled over it, and the changes 
 of man's habits, and the progress of civilization have 
 trodden it down into wild and weird forms, so that to 
 the spectator externally, it appears grotesque, or 
 strangely beautiful, yet, nevertheless, all this while 
 there is vital truth within, and the diligent inquirer 
 will find it. 
 
 After the self-banishment of (Edipus from Thebes, 
 his resignation of the kingdom, together with his dire- 
 ful destruction of his own sight, the irascible old man, 
 whom we cannot help sympathizing with, as far as the 
 story goes, since he appears to have been the victim of 
 circumstances rather than of voluntary crime, with- 
 drew to Colonus, a hamlet, or district, near Athens. 
 Separated from his country, and at enmity with his 
 own sons, who were rival claimants for the throne 
 of Thebes, as well as with Creon, his wife's relative, 
 (Edipus, led by Antigone, implored the protection of 
 Theseus, who granted it. JEschylus, Sophocles, and 
 Euripides, all make her a character in their dramas, 
 particularly dwelling upon, and setting forth her 
 religious devotion, self-sacrifice to her father and 
 brother Polynices, and the tenderness of her love to 
 Hoemon, the son of Creon. We annex a translation
 
 ANT1GOJNK. 13 
 
 of her speech, when, urging upon her father the duties 
 of forgiveness of injuries, and prudent moderation of 
 anger ; she thus addresses him, with all the simplicity 
 and fervour of the Greek drama : 
 
 "Father! my youth should not exhort thine age, 
 Yet patient, hear me, and thy wrath assuage 
 Let Theseus follow what the gods inspire, 
 Nor quench the ardour of affection's fire, 
 Which, animating him, glows forth in me, 
 Who plead forgiveness with a suppliant knee. 
 Think not that kingly power, but friendly zeal 
 Bids thee a father's tenderness to feel ? 
 My brother pardon, and, by Nature won, 
 W 7 elcome thine erring, but repentant son. 
 Lurks there disgrace to list reflection's voice ? 
 The great in noblest sentiments rejoice. 
 Did he not draw from thee the breath of Heaven 
 Wouldst thou extinguish what thyself hast given ? 
 If criminal beyond that utmost bound 
 Which e'en the vilest doom'd of Fate hath found, 
 Yet Heav'n forbid that thou, from vengeful ire, 
 Should perpetrate, than his, a sin more dire. 
 Turn, turn thine heart, my father ! Grant the pray'r 
 Which Nature pleads ; let Hope supplant Despair ! 
 Others have sunk beneath that vastest woe, 
 Ungrateful children, whose remorseless blow 
 Has paralyzed their soul : in others, rage 
 Rends the sad history of their darken'd age : 
 Yet Wisdom's tones have brought, at length, relief, 
 And " words in season " mitigated grief : 
 Love has disarm'd their hatred, quell'd their fears, 
 And flowers of joy sprang up 'neath Pity's tears ! 
 Then him disown not, banish vengeful dread. 
 Warn'd by past woe ; and if by Wisdom led, 
 Forgiveness sway thee, soon thou'lt comprehend 
 How misrul'd temper hath pernicious end.
 
 14 DOMESTIC IIEROINES. 
 
 Thine eyes, dim guides ! see not the light of day, 
 
 Let Reason's star shed forth unerring ray. 
 
 Its bright gleam gladly follow ; for a good 
 
 Is doubled when its pray'r is not withstood. 
 
 And those who plead for Truth at Conscience gate 
 
 ! hear thou freely, nor doom long to wait ! " * 
 
 From this quotation we learn, that not only was 
 (Edipus at variance with his sons, but that the affec- 
 tion of Antigone was especially devoted to Polynices, 
 whom she endeavoured to restore to her father's still 
 influential protection. As to the life she led when at 
 Colonus, the romance of tragedy, which overlays fact 
 with sentiment, affords but little information ; but 
 that she ministered to one not less physically blind 
 than mentally perverse ; that she bore the unequal 
 temper of the will ; that she studied to apply every 
 lenitive to his affliction ; and that this duty was dis- 
 charged, notwithstanding the proffers of wealth and 
 power to elevate her to regal dignity, from the weari- 
 some task of tending on misfortune, which only filial 
 affection rendered tolerable, is clear from the concur- 
 rent testimony of all writers. She was to CEdipus what 
 Cordelia is represented as having been to Lear 
 
 " a sacrifice on which 
 The gods themselves throw incense." 
 
 and remained with her father till he died, when she 
 returned to Thebes. According to Apollodorus, 
 Haemon, the son of Creon, had died before this time, 
 
 * Translated by the Rev. 0. F. Owen.
 
 ANTIGONE. 15 
 
 but Sophocles, to suit his own tragic purposes, repre- 
 sents him as alive, and falling in love with Antigone, 
 a circumstance which constitutes the dramatic founda- 
 tion of one of his best plays. It had been agreed be- 
 tween the sons of (Edipus, that after their father's 
 abdication, each should reign his alternate year ; bub 
 Eteocles having broken the compact, induced a siege 
 of his capital, which ended in the mutual destruction 
 of the brothers by single combat. The ancients, 
 by a curious, yet significant fable, which fully 
 bore out their creed in the indelibility of human 
 passion, represented that their bodies being burned, 
 the flame parted itself, as a token of such deadly 
 hatred between them, that as during life their minds, 
 so after death their bodies could never agree. This 
 unforgiveness of injuries constitutes one great, un- 
 alterable distinction between the creed which ia 
 human, and that which is divine. Socrates could! 
 reason upon the immortality of the soul; anticipate 
 the joys of future existence ; nay, even descant upon 
 the nature of God Himself; yet owned still, and 
 admitted into his system the tyranny of human pride, 
 for he taught that revenge was commendable, and 
 that man need not pardon. 
 
 It is after the death of Polynices that the devotion 
 of Antigone ta duty again appears. A consistent 
 character (we speak of it as far as human frailty allows), 
 is itself a proof of genuineness, and the remark 
 peculiarly applies- to- Antigone. As she had urged her
 
 16 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 brother's cause to her father, so she determines, when 
 Polynices fell, to risk all in the administration to his 
 body of those honours which, according to the Greek 
 religion, marvellously in this respect anticipating the 
 doctrine of purgatory, were considered imperatively 
 necessary to convey the soul to the abodes of the blessed. 
 Creon, in his wrath against the family of the outcast 
 monarch, had issued an edict forbidding the burial of 
 the fratricides. Antigone broke the order, and im- 
 pelled, no less by horror at the sacrilegious despotism 
 which could persecute beyond the grave, than by that 
 deep love to him over whose failings death had thrown 
 the majesty of its shroud, secretly buried the body of 
 her brother. Her conduct in this respect resembles 
 that of certain other of our heroines, with whom the 
 death of their beloved wrought no difference in 
 devotion to self-imposed duty ; but we are now speak- 
 ing of what is called a barbarous age, a strange 
 misnomer when we reflect that such an era touches 
 nearest upon that unsophisticated state of early nature 
 when men walked with angels ! If ages pass away and 
 men acquire different habits, yet humanity itself re- 
 mains the same ; and though luxury enervate, or per- 
 secution test its principle, the same circumstances will 
 elicit the same result in disposition, though varied in 
 application, and modified in degree. 
 
 We are told that her punishment followed fast upon 
 Ler exploit, we cannot call it a crime, for disobedience 
 to injustice and impiety is a virtue. Apollodorus says
 
 ANTIGONE. 17 
 
 that Creon had her buried alive in the same tomb as 
 her brother, but Sophocles states she was shut up in a 
 subterranean cave, where she killed herself. Stoicism, 
 or that indifference to pain which was frequently the 
 exhibition of a courageous hypocrisy, considered suicide 
 as a virtue. Even the moral and the virtuous, in their 
 ignorance, forgot their responsibility of life to the Giver 
 of it, " nor remembered that before they left the world 
 they were bound to return what God had done for 
 them in it." Hence we must not impugn the memory 
 of Antigone, if she even acted, according to the ques- 
 tionable testimony of a poet, from the evil tendencies 
 of Grecian superstition. The event is worked up by 
 Sophocles with the greatest pathos and the proper 
 measure of retribution meted out to Creon. HaBinon, 
 the lover of Antigone, hearing of her death, seeks her 
 in the cavern, and kills himself by her side. Theseus 
 makes war upon the tyrant and slays him, and the 
 whole race of the Theban dynasty is made an exhibi- 
 tion of the Divine judgment upon error. 
 
 The elements of the story, such as they present 
 themselves to the general reader, will be easily identi- 
 fied with those upon which many modern moralists 
 and dramatic authors have founded their striking 
 idealities. But the disposition of Antigone, her 
 actions, nay, even as the tragedians have represented, 
 her speech, condense, as in a focus, the rays of many 
 lessons, giving potency to all. She is exhibited to the 
 mind's eye as a " very woman," loving and filial as 
 c
 
 18 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 Cordelia ; pure and devoted to the impulses of a 
 higher destiny as Dorothea, the virgin martyr of 
 JMassinger ; with Portia's intellect, and Arria's courage. 
 It may be that the poets drew upon their imagination, 
 and that these virtues, rare in their separate excel- 
 lence, were made wonderful by their combination in 
 one ideal ; but let the lesson only be that she suffered 
 well, it is enough. Past ages have admired, and in 
 some small degree, though so great demand is not 
 made upon unselfishness, let th3 present copy her. 
 She remains a concentration, a statue of harmonized 
 principles, all tending to the development of the con- 
 sistent beauty of virtue. If the image be of stone, still 
 the rules of its creation accord to those of life ; but 
 the predominant charm of the portraiture of Antigone 
 is, that it contains the soul of love, v.nworldly, self- 
 denying, constant, and pure !
 
 antjjes. 
 
 " Against self-slaughter 
 There is a prohibition so divine 
 That cravens my weak hand." 
 
 SHAKESPEAKE, 
 
 c 2
 
 ant |rje a. 
 
 ABOUT B.C. 67. 
 
 IF ancient history were merely a collection of events^ 
 and did not present constant instances that human 
 nature, like its Divine Creator, is "the same yester- 
 day, to-day, and for ever," a great portion of its 
 instruction would be superseded. It is from our 
 tracing perpetual examples of virtue, adapted to every 
 age, whatever be the clime or the circumstance, that 
 we derive the impressive lessons that there is nothing 
 new under the sun ; that neither prosperity nor mis- 
 fortune can exceed the limits which individuals have 
 already experienced ; and that whatever man has done 
 or suffered, he may, when called upon, do or suffer 
 again. 
 
 Cyrus, king of the Medo-Persians, born about B.C. 
 590, was one of those remarkable conquerors who are 
 raised up by Providence for special purposes, so that 
 he is even mentioned in Scripture by name (Isa. xliv. 
 28; xlv. 1 ; Ezra, i. 1), above one hundred years before
 
 22 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 his birth, as the destroyer of Babylon, and the restorer 
 of the Jews to their country. He was the son of 
 Cambyses and Mandane, a daughter of Astyages, or 
 (as he is called by the prophet Daniel) Ahasuerus, 
 king of Media. Revolting from his grandfather, he 
 delivered the Persians from the Median yoke, defeated 
 Croesus, king of the Lydians, taking Sardis, the capital, 
 and subsequently captured Babylon. 
 
 During the campaign against Cyaxares. Panthea, 
 the wife of Abradates, king of Susiana, fell into the 
 hands of the victors, and her beauty being extolled 
 to Cyrus, he at first declined to see her, fearing that 
 such an object might, by enervating his affections, 
 withdraw him from his career of ambition. He, there- 
 fore, confided his captive to the care of Araspes, with 
 the prudent caution not to permit himself to be over- 
 come by the charms of her beauty and conversation. 
 The young nobleman, too confident in his insensibility, 
 soon became so desperately enamoured of Panthea, as 
 to compel the latter to appeal for protection to Cyrus, 
 who rebuking her assailant, the latter withdrew him- 
 self from the army, and Panthea became anxious to 
 supply his loss by the proffer of the services of her hus- 
 band, whose merits as a general were widely renowned. 
 When he arrived at the camp, she made Abradates 
 acquainted with the magnanimity of their benefactor, 
 to whom he hastened to express his gratitude. 
 
 " You see before you," he said, " the tenderest friend, 
 the most devoted servant, and the faithfullest ally you
 
 PANTIIEA. '23 
 
 ever had ; who, not being able otherwise to acknowledge 
 your favours, comes and devotes himself entirely to your 
 service." His friendship was reciprocated, and the 
 first example of the devotion of husband and wife to 
 each other, and to their friend and protector, as well 
 QS the confidence of the latter in the skill and attach- 
 ment of his new ally, is related in Xenophon's account 
 of the battle of Thymbria. 
 
 Nothing can be more simply beautiful than this 
 sketch of early manners, as it is thus given by the 
 historian : " The chariot of Abradates, that had four 
 perches and eight horses, was completely adorned c.v 
 him ; and when he was going to put on his linen 
 corslet (which was a sort of armour used by those of 
 his country), Pantbea brought him a golden helmet, 
 and arm-pieces, broad bracelets for his wrists, a purple 
 habit reaching down to his feet, and hanging in folds 
 at the bottom, and a crest dyed of a violet colour. 
 These things she had made unknown to her husband, 
 and by taking the measure of his armour. He 
 wondered when he saw them, and inquired thus of 
 Panthea : ' Have you made me these arms by destroy- 
 ing your own ornaments 1 ' ' No, truly,' said Panthea, 
 ' not what is the most valuable of them ; for it is you, 
 if you appear to others to be what I think you, that 
 will be my greatest ornament ; ' and saying that, she 
 put on him the armour ; and, though she endeavoured 
 to conceal it, the tears poured down her cheeks. 
 When Abradates, who was before a man of fine
 
 24 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 appearance, was set out in these arms, lie appeared 
 the most beautiful and noble of all, especially being, 
 likewise, so by nature. Then, taking the reins from 
 the driver, he was just- preparing to mount the chariot, 
 when Panthea, after she had desired all that were 
 there to retire, thus said : ' O Abradates ! if 
 ever there was a woman who had a greater regard 
 to her husband than to her own sou], I believe 
 you know that I am such a one. "What need I, 
 therefore, to speak of things in particular? For I 
 reckon that my actions have convinced you morft 
 than any words I can now use. And yet, though I 
 stand thjus affected towards you, as you know I do, I 
 swear by this friendship of mine and youi's, that I 
 certainly would rather choose to be put under ground 
 jointly with you, approving yourself a brave man, than 
 to live with you in disgrace and shame ; so much I do 
 think you and myself worthy of the noblest things. 
 Then I think that we both lie under obligations to 
 Cyrus ; that, when I was a captive, and chosen out icr 
 himself, he thought fit to treat me neither as a slave, 
 nor, indeed, as a woman of mean account ; but he took 
 and kept me for you, as if I were his brother's wife. 
 Besides, when Araspes, who was my guard, went away 
 from him, I promised him that if he would allow me to 
 sendforyou,you would cometohim,and approve yourself 
 a much better and more faithful friend than Araspes.' " 
 Thus she spoke : and Abradates, being struck with 
 admiration at her discourse, laying his hand gently on
 
 PAKTHEA. 25 
 
 her head, and lifting up his eyes to heaven, made this 
 prayer : " Do thou, O greatest Jove, grant me to ap- 
 pear a husband worthy of Panthea, and a friend worthy 
 of Cyrus, who has done us so much honour ! " 
 
 Having distinguished himself with the greatest 
 bravery, and overthrown that part of the enemy 
 which was opposed to him, he became entangled in 
 the fall of his chariot, and was despatched with a 
 hundred wounds. As soon as Cyrus heard of the sad 
 event, he galloped to the spot, where Panthea was 
 sitting, with the head of her husband in her lap. In 
 vain did he, according to Xenophon, seek to console 
 her by promises of protection and honour. She still 
 continued to reproach herself with having urged 
 him on. 
 
 We give the statement of the last interview in the 
 words of the historian : 
 
 " Cyrus, shedding tears for some time in silence, then 
 spoke, ' He has died, lady, the noblest death ; for he 
 has died victorious ! Do you adorn him with these 
 things that I furnish you with ' (Gobryas and Gadatas 
 were then come up, and had brought rich ornaments 
 in great abundance with them). 'Then,' said he, 'be 
 assured that he shall not want respect and honour in 
 all other things ; but, over and above, multitudes 
 shall concur in raising him a monument that shall be 
 worthy of us ; and all the sacrifices shall be made him 
 that are proper to be made in honour of a brave man. 
 You shall not be left destitute ; but, for the sake of
 
 2"6 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 your modesty and every other virtue, I will pay you 
 all other honours, as well as place those about you who 
 will conduct you wherever you please. Do you but 
 make it known to me, where it is that you desire to be 
 conveyed to.' And Panthea replied, ' Be confident, 
 Cyrus, I will not conceal from you to whom it is 
 that I desire to go/ 
 
 " She having said this, Cyrus went away, with great 
 pity for her, that she should have lost such a husband, 
 and for the man, that he should have left such a wife 
 behind him, never to see her more. Panthea then 
 gave orders for her servants to retire, ' till such time,' 
 said she, ' as I shall have lamented my husband as I 
 please.' Her nurse she bid to stay, and gave orders 
 that when she was dead, she would wrap her and her 
 husband up in one mantle together. The nurse, after 
 having repeatedly begged her not to do this, and 
 meeting with no success, but, observing her to grow 
 angry, sat herself down, breaking out in tears. She 
 being beforehand provided with a sword, killed herself, 
 and laying her head down on her husband's breast, she 
 died. The nurse set up a lamentable cry, and covered 
 them both as Panthea had directed. The three ser- 
 vants drew their swords and killed themselves; and 
 Cyrus, struck with admiration at Panthea's heroism, 
 raised over herself and husband a monument of very 
 great size." 
 
 Such was the end of one who, in her ignorance of 
 true religion, rushed, unsummoned, into the presence
 
 PAXTHEA. 27 
 
 of Him who gave us being, and alone has the right to 
 resume it. We may admire the greatness of her 
 courage, although, even here, we should not forget 
 that real fortitude is that which endures in dutiful 
 obedience, not seeks to break through the will of 
 Heaven. 
 
 " Death may be call'd in vain, and cannot come ; 
 Tyrants may tie him up from your relief, 
 Nor has a Christian privilege to die. 
 Brutus and Cato might discharge their souls, 
 And give them furloughs for another world ; 
 But we, like sentries, are obliged to stand 
 In st&rless rights, and wait th' appointed hour." 
 
 DEYDEN.
 
 " Oh ! who the exquisite delight can tell, 
 
 The joy which mutual confidence imparts 
 Or who can paint the charm unspeakable 
 
 Which links, in tender bands, two faithful hearts? 
 In vain, assailed by Fortune's envious dapts, 
 
 Their mitigated woes are sweetly shared, 
 And doubled joy reluctantly departs : 
 
 Let but the sympathizing heart be spared, 
 What sorrow seems not light, what peril is not dared?" 
 
 MRS. TIGHE.
 
 BORN A.D. 50. DIED A D. 78. 
 
 AT the period when Rome was distracted by the 
 struggles of Otho, Vitellius, and Vespasian, for em- 
 pire, lived Julius Sabinus, a powerful chief of the 
 Lingones. 
 
 Married to a beautiful and accomplished woman, 
 ambition, which sometimes leads men to sacrifice those 
 they love, in the wild aspiration of obtaining for them 
 more than even love itself requires, induced Sabinus 
 to put forward his claim for a sceptre, which the cha- 
 racter given of him by Tacitus proves his inability 
 to wield. 
 
 This description, drawn with all the vigorous terse- 
 ness of that celebrated historian, represents him as 
 no less rash in attack than precipitate in panic ; and 
 it appears wonderful how a person so different in 
 intellectual and moral energy from the requirements 
 and characteristics of his time, should have been able 
 to associate to himself what Tacitus applauds as a
 
 32 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 wonderful constancy in liis friends, and the devoted 
 attachment of his wife. Addisou observes, 
 
 " True fortitude is seen in great exploits, 
 That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides. 
 All else is towering phrensy and distraction." 
 
 Nothing could be move exactly opposed to the 
 career of the husband, who, without fortitude, vio- 
 lated the terms of a treaty, and wildly engaged in a 
 rebellion against a virtuous monarch ; yet how often 
 do we find in married life the folly of the one partner 
 elicit the fondness of the other. That Sabinus was 
 associated with a heroine, all history testifies, and 
 the less incentive to conjugal duty we find in him, 
 the more we are induced to extol the inflexible fidelity 
 of Eponina. 
 
 It is to be regretted, indeed, that the history of 
 Tacitus terminates before the fulfilment of his promise 
 to inform iis of the details of Eponina's conduct, which 
 not only elicited his admiration, but which, judged by 
 its transmission through other sources, would have 
 afforded one of the finest opportunities for his noted 
 analysis of character. The story, full of romance, 
 would strike the dramatist with salient topics for 
 effect, through those passages to the human heart which 
 the virtues open from the great temple of truth within 
 the soul ; while the philanthropist, who needs them 
 not, and the misanthrope, who requires them most, 
 would be, the one compelled to admit, and the other 
 eager to admire, the evident proofs it affords that the
 
 EPONINA. 33 
 
 pillars of original excellence in our nature, though 
 prostrate, yet demonstrate, even under the disparage- 
 ment of fortune, that their handiwork, if marred, is 
 not obliterated. Could any scene be more powerfully 
 effective than that of a desolate cavern concealing 
 the claimant of a throne ; the neighbourhood beset 
 with indefatigable enemies and restless spies ; anxiety 
 within ; at times the breath drawn with fear ; the 
 conversation in a whisper ; the ear grown sensitive by 
 the ceaseless alarm of the heart, at first, startled by 
 the fail of a leaf, and then, from long experience in 
 danger, become so callous as to make the captive, in 
 disguise, it is true, but yet with strange audacity, 
 trust to the filmy veil of a changed garb, or a feigned 
 voice, for protection and escape ? Then we have not 
 only scenic accessories, but the whole dramatis per- 
 sonce are here. The faithful friends, the ready-witted 
 and devoted servant, running all hazards, but in- 
 flexibly honest to one master ; above all, the wife, 
 from whose example probably, kindling their admira- 
 tion, the fidelity of friends and the constancy of fol- 
 lowers were elicited, and by a word or smile of whose 
 recognition both were repaid. 
 
 The incidents of the narrative, however, although 
 striking, are but few ; but of both husband and wife 
 it may be said, 
 
 " Their hearts made all their harmony ; 
 
 Love's broken murmur, and more broken sigh." 
 
 Hence, the life within, rather than that without them, 
 
 D
 
 34 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 constitutes the element of attraction. Sabinus, it 
 seems, relying upon a real or supposed descent from 
 the first Caesar, fomented an insurrection among the 
 Gaulic tribes, caused himself to be proclaimed em- 
 peror, and endeavoured to gain over those legions and 
 allies of Rome, who were disaffected to the new go- 
 vernment. At the head of an ill-disciplined horde, 
 he attacked the Sequani, a people in strict alliance 
 with Rome, and being defeated, sought safety in 
 spreading abroad a false report of his death. Escap- 
 ing, with diflaculty, the general carnage, he reached a 
 house situated upon a small property he possessed in 
 the neighbourhood, and calling together the few 
 faithful adherents left to him, informed them of his 
 determination to avoid the disgrace and death which 
 awaited him, by putting an end to his existence by 
 his own hand. Having received their adieux, he shut 
 himself up, and soon the flames of the burning build- 
 ing attested the fate its owner had voluntarily em- 
 braced. 
 
 Eponina, left in Rome, to bear as she might the 
 suspense of the undertaking's success this is woman's 
 constant fate ; and is not the passive agony of inac- 
 tion far harder to bear than all the excitements of 
 actual peril ? Eponina heard with bursting heart the 
 tidings of defeat which speedily were followed by 
 those of her husband's death. She shut herself within 
 the seclusion of her own chamber, and mourned as 
 Roman wives were taught to mourn, not in resina-
 
 EPONINA. 35 
 
 tion, but in despair. She refused all nourishment, and 
 in three days was reduced to so pitiable a condition, 
 that it was evident her sole hope, that of rejoining 
 Sabinus in the grave, would soon be realized. Either 
 commissioned to reveal the secret, or penetrated with 
 grief and pity beyond further control at the sight of 
 his mistress, Martialis, a freed man, who had brought 
 to Eponina particulars of her husband's supposed 
 death, now informed her, with every necessary caution, 
 that he was still living, and in comparative safety. 
 A scheme had been concerted by this faithful domestic 
 and one other, to preserve their master's life, and he 
 was now concealed in a cavern, where he anxiously 
 awaited the coming of his beloved wife. Eponina, 
 still keeping up the appearance of grief, made ar- 
 rangements for immediately joining him : under the 
 protecting veil of darkness, she flew to the subter- 
 ranean abode, where Sabinus pined in darkness and 
 anxiety ; and having solaced and comforted him by 
 her affection and sympathy, returned with equal 
 secrecy to Rome. Emboldened by success, again and 
 again did Eponina visit her husband, supplying him 
 with every necessary, and teaching him, by the re- 
 freshment of her presence, how to bear those tedious 
 hours when she could no longer be near. Seven 
 months thus passed ; and at the end of that time, 
 finding her constant absences productive of suspicion, 
 she formed the project of concealing Sabinus in her 
 own house. The removal was not effected without 
 
 D 2
 
 36 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 much difficulty, and Fortune refused to smile upon 
 an endeavour which, if successful, would have dimi- 
 nished the evils of captivity, by allowing the unre- 
 strained intercourse of affection. Again, therefore, 
 was the ingenuity of the faithful wife taxed to remove, 
 once more, the weary prisoner to the shelter of his 
 subterraneous home. Her hopes of obtaining a 
 pardon through the influence of friends had turned 
 out fallacious, and we may easily picture the heart- 
 wrung anguish with which she retraced her steps to 
 her husband's precarious asylum ; but when we read 
 that for nine years afterwards, she continued her 
 visits, and shared the gloom of an imprisonment her 
 presence alone irradiated, we are lost in admiration 
 of a fidelity so inexhaustible in its patience, and 
 unswerving in the self-sacrifice of its devotion. 
 Woman is described by Shakspeare as " naturally 
 born to feai's ; " and how these must have been aug- 
 mented by the perils of a life, each act of which, in 
 reference to her husband, was a hazardous enterprise, 
 threatening not less her own safety, than that of her 
 other far dearer self, must be fully realized before 
 we can appreciate such genuine nobility of nature. 
 Suffice it, that in this type of woman, Eponina will, 
 indeed, " outstrip all praise, and make it halt behind 
 her." 
 
 That nothing might be wanting to intensify the 
 pathos of her history, we find that, during her 
 nine years' voluntary incarceration, Eponina became
 
 EPOXINA. 37 
 
 a mother. This circumstance, of course, rendered de- 
 tection almost certain ; but, by a ready stratagem, 
 it was evaded, and the twin-sons, who first looked 
 upon the world in the gloom of unnatural solitude, 
 were educated by their heroic mother, whose life had 
 been perilled for their own. These, she fondly hoped, 
 would become additional promoters of her plea for 
 her husband's pardon at the court of Vespasian ; but 
 before she could carry out fresh preparations in favour 
 of Sabinus, treachery or cupidity had done its work. 
 In the year 78, Eponina and her unfortunate com- 
 panions were dragged in fetters to Borne. Probably, 
 and we say this in justice to the character of the 
 emperor, he would have yielded to the eloquence of 
 a mother whose Spartan fortitude commanded his 
 sympathy and admiration. As she presented her 
 children, and prostrated herself at his feet, while, 
 with impassioned eloquence, she mitigated her hus- 
 band's crime, and faithfully depicted his sufferings 
 and her own, the heart of the Roman, for an instant, 
 trembled. "What man worthy of the name, could re- 
 sist such an address as that, the fragments of which 
 have reached us ? 
 
 "Not till these boys could join their tears to 
 those of their mother, did I seek, oh, Caesar ! to 
 disarm your wrath against him whom it is now 
 your opportunity to pardon, and thereby gild your 
 diadem with clemency, the brightest gem of con- 
 quest. By a coincidence in which the Fates them-
 
 38 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 selves seem to strengthen our appeal, this is the 
 first day when, coming, as it were, from a tomb, they 
 behold the sun, and seek your pity to warm into life 
 the emotions so long buried in darkness and sor- 
 row." Finding that, whilst all around were moved, 
 the countenance of the emperor remained impassive, 
 she redoubled her earnest prayers ; but in vain. The 
 cold, iron policy which, in this age, contaminated 
 Roman councils, whilst it yet did not confirm the 
 strength of the imperial authority, prevailed ; so 
 that, abandoning all hope of forgiveness from one 
 whose fame this act of cruelty has for ever tarnished, 
 Eponina rose from her knees, and changed at once 
 her attitude and address. 
 
 " I am resolved, then, as you refuse to hearken to 
 the voice of magnanimity, that your tyranny shall 
 have two victims. Depend upon this truth, that not 
 in vain have I so long contemplated peril. You shall 
 see how I scorn death when life is deprived of the 
 only boon it can bestow. More happy than a tyrant 
 surrounded with unsafe splendour and insecure 
 tranquillity, have I been with my husband and my 
 children, though banished from the light of day. For 
 them I have forgotten pain, to him I now sacrifice 
 life, and die, leaving our oppressor to the vengeance 
 of the immortal Gods ! " 
 
 According to Plutarch, Vespasian's death, and the 
 extirpation of his whole family, attested the anger of 
 Heaven towards an act which all historians condemn
 
 EPONINA. 39 
 
 as one of narrow-minded vengeance and impolitic 
 cruelty. In this respect, we may remark, that the 
 characteristics of woman's reputed vindictiveness and 
 man's magnanimity, are powerfully transformed j 
 Vespasian appearing a pitiful parallel of JTulvia, 
 whilst Eponina develops the majestic fortitude of 
 Socrates or Julius. But " man is the sport of cir- 
 cumstances ; " and it is to be hoped that, had all the 
 concomitant details been made known to us, some 
 extenuation might be found for what, otherwise, 
 appears a crime of the darkest tyranny. As to our 
 heroine, in her case " that domestic worth that shuns 
 too strong a light," as Lord Lyttleton observes, 
 partook of what is woman's not unfrequent excel- 
 lence, an undeviating rectitude of principle, which, 
 shrunk not, when called upon, from the boldest 
 avowal, and the most uncompromising dedication to 
 duty. Her soul was the spell and light of each 
 path the sharers of her captivity pursued. She has 
 written her fame in one of the brightest pages ot 
 female constancy, and realized, more than most, in 
 character and conduct, the description given by our 
 great magician, Byron. 
 
 " Herself a billow in her energies 
 To bear the bark of others' happiness, 
 Nor feel a sorrow till their joy grew less."
 
 ton tor Mart, 
 
 " Dark lowers our fate, 
 And terrible the storm that gathers o'er us ; 
 But nothing, till that latest agony 
 Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose 
 This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-house, 
 In the terrific face of armed law : 
 Yea, on the scaffold, if it needs must be, 
 I never will forsake thee ! " 
 
 JOANNA BAILLIE.
 
 A.D. 1308. 
 
 ALBERT I., emperor of Austria, surnamed, from 
 his victories, the Triumphant, was son of the emperor 
 Eudolph of Hapsburg, and a competitor for the im- 
 perial crown with Adolphus of Nassau. This prince, 
 who was emperor of Germany, was yet unable to cope 
 with his powerful and able rival, by whom he was 
 ultimately defeated and killed. Exactly ten years 
 after, in 1308, the victor was himself vanquished; 
 not, however, in the field, but falling a victim to assas- 
 sination, doubtless compassed by adherents of his 
 deceased antagonist. 
 
 Germany, with its petty states and subdivided 
 interests, seems to deserve, more than Flanders, the 
 sobriquet of the " tilticg-ground of Europe ; " nor 
 until Charles "V., about two hundred years after the 
 period we write of, condensed the states into a com- 
 pacted territory under his own indomitable will, does 
 the history of the country present any other aspect
 
 44 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 than that of constant intrigue and unscrupulous 
 partisanship. 
 
 It is necessary to bear these considerations in 
 mind, in order to comprehend how the husband of 
 Gertrude von der Wart became a victim to malevolent 
 persecution. 
 
 He had been accused of aiding and abetting John 
 of Suabia in the murder of Albert, although to the 
 last he maintained his innocence ; and his assertion 
 is corroborated by the concurrent testimony of all 
 historians. We have seen that, in those days, a 
 man's destruction was resolved upon before his trial, 
 and that the will of his foes, not the evidence of 
 truth, decided his sentence. The incidents of Von 
 der Wart's execution were transcendent in their 
 horror, even at that barbarous epoch ; and, when 
 accompanied by the thrill of sympathy excited by 
 the heroism of his wife, have formed a subject of 
 serious and sorrowful contemplation through all 
 succeeding ages. He was sentenced to be broken 
 on the wheel ; a mode of punishment extant even 
 to the present century, and which may rank with 
 the most exquisite inventions of cruelty ever de- 
 vised by the satanic malignity of man against his 
 fellow. 
 
 The criminal was laid upon a machine resembling 
 a cross, in the shape of an X, and raised horizon- 
 tally a few feet from the ground. Sometimes it 
 was inclosed by a circle of wood and iron, which
 
 GERTKl/UJi VON DER V. Aiif. 45 
 
 gave it the appearance of a wheel. The limbs of the 
 wretched victim being stretched out, the executioner, 
 with a heavy crowbar, broke them successively be- 
 tween the joints, the intervals between each fracture 
 being prolonged according to the degree of vengeance 
 which malice desired to inflict on the sufferer. Under 
 these circumstances, a life of agony was drawn out, as 
 it were, drop by drop, " death shunned the wretch 
 who fain the blow would meet ; " but the coup de 
 grdce was not given until, the limbs being crushed, 
 no other cruelty could be devised ; and then the 
 executioner either fractured the skull, or dispatched 
 the quivering culprit with a dagger. 
 
 Civilization, in its arrogance, even to twenty years 
 ago, used to talk of barbarism as the Pharisee did of 
 the publican : we are afraid that, when the history of 
 nations is completed, its blackest page will be that 
 which tells of a professedly religious people, notwith- 
 standing its opportunities of knowledge, for a paltry 
 loss, almost a trivial fault, torturing or sacrificing the 
 image of God. 
 
 Our chief accounts of the amazing magnanimity 
 evinced by Gertrude von der Wart, are derived from 
 her letter to Margaret Freienstern, than which few 
 records can be more thrillingly pathetic. Resolved to be 
 with her husband in his last moments, she made every 
 preparation for attending the fearful spectacle ; and 
 the beautiful poem of Mrs. Hemans, commemorative 
 of this noble woman's constancy, accurately portrays,
 
 46 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 not only the state of her feeling, but the facts of the 
 
 case. 
 
 " Her hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes raised, 
 
 The breeze threw back her hair ; 
 Up to the fearful wheel she gazed, 
 
 All that she loved was there. 
 The night was round her clear and cold, 
 
 The holy Heaven above ; 
 Its pale stars watching to behold 
 
 The might of earthly love. 
 " ' And bid me not depart,' she cried, 
 
 ' My Rudolph, say not so ; 
 This is no time to quit thy side ; 
 
 Peace, peace, I cannot go ! 
 Hath the world aught for me to fear, 
 
 When death is on thy brow ? 
 The world, what means it, all is bare, 
 
 I will not leave thee now ! ' " 
 
 Our heroine thus writes : 
 
 " I prayed under the scaffold on which my hus- 
 band was fastened alive upon the wheel, and exhorted 
 him to fortitude. I then arose, and with thick pieces 
 of wood built myself a kind of steps, by means of 
 which I could mount up to the wheel, laid myself upon 
 his trembling limbs and head, and stroked the hair 
 from his face, which the wind had blown all over it. 
 ' I beseech you, leave me ! Oh, I beseech you,' he 
 exclaimed continually ; ' when day breaks, should you 
 be found here, what will be your late ; and what new 
 misery will you bring upon me 1 Oh, God ! is it 
 possible that thou canst still increase my sufferings V 
 
 " ' I will die with you ; 'tis for that I came ; and no
 
 GERTRUDE VON DER WART. 47 
 
 power shall force me from you/ said I, and spread out 
 my arms over him, and implored God for my Rudolph's 
 death. 
 
 " She wiped the death-damps from his brow 
 
 With her pale hands and soft ; 
 Whose touch upon the lute-chords low 
 
 Had still'd his heart so oft. 
 She spread her mantle o'er his breast, 
 
 She bathed his lips with dew, 
 And on his cheek such kisses press'd, 
 
 As hope and joy ne'er knew." 
 
 " The day broke slowly, when I saw many people in 
 motion opposite us. I replaced the thick pieces of 
 wood where I had found them. It was the guard, 
 who had fled on my appearance, but had remained near 
 the spot, and, as it seemed, caused a report to be 
 made of what had passed ; for, at daybreak, all the 
 people, men, women, and children, came flocking out 
 of the town. 
 
 " As some people approached, I saw, also, several 
 women of my own acquaintance ; among them was the 
 wife of the bailiff, Hugo von Winterthur. I saluted 
 her, and begged her intervention with her husband, 
 that he might order the executioner to put an end to 
 my husband's cruel sufferings." 
 
 " ' He dare not do anything for me,' sighed Wart, 
 upon the wheel, again moving his head at this mo- 
 ment, and looking down upon me with his swollen 
 eyes ; ' he dare not do anything ; the queen (Agnes, 
 queen of Hungary, daughter of the murdered emperor)
 
 48 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 pronounced the sentence, and the bailiff must, there- 
 fore, obey ; otherwise, I had well deserved of him that 
 he should do me this last kindness.' 
 
 " Some people brought me bread and confectionery, 
 and offered me wine to refresh me ; but I could take 
 nothing, for the tears that were shed, and the pity 
 that animated every heart, and was kindly expressed, 
 was to me the most agreeable refreshment. As it 
 grew lighter, the number of people increased ; I recog- 
 nized also the sheriff, Steiner von Pfungen, with his 
 two sons, Conrad and Datlikon ; also a Madame von 
 Neuftenback, who was praying for us. 
 
 " The executioner came also ; then Lamprecht, 
 the confessor. The first said, with a sigh, ' God have 
 compassion on this unhappy man, and comfort his 
 soul ! ' The latter asked Rudolph if he would 
 not yet confess 1 Wart, with a dreadful exertion 
 of all his strength, repeated the same words that 
 he had called out to the queen before the tribunal 
 at Brugk (denying the charge). The priest was 
 silent. 
 
 " All at once I heard a cry of ' Make way ! ' and a 
 troop of horsemen approached with their vizors down. 
 The executioner knelt ; the confessor laid his hand 
 upon his breast ; the horsemen halted. Fathers and 
 mothers held up their children in their arms, and the 
 guard with their lances formed a circle, while the 
 tallest of the knights raised himself in his stirrups, 
 and said to the executioner, ' Whither ar& the crows
 
 GERTRUDE VON DER WART. 49 
 
 flown, that he still keeps his eyes?' and this was 
 Duke Leopold. 
 
 " My heart ceased to beat, -when another knight, 
 with a scornful smile, said, ' Let him writhe as long 
 as he has feeling ! but these people must be gone. 
 Confounded wretches ! this sighing and crying makes 
 me mad ! No pity must be shown here. And she 
 here, who so increases the howling ; who is she ? and 
 what does the woman want ? Away with her.' 
 
 " I now recognized the voice of the queen. It was 
 Agnes, in the dress and armour of a knight. I 
 remarked immediately that it was a woman's voice, 
 and it is certain it was Agnes. 
 
 " ' It is Wart's wife,' I heard a third knight say ; 
 4 last night, when the sentence was executed, we took 
 her with us to Kyburg. She escaped from us, and I 
 must find her here, then. "We thought that, in her 
 despair, she had leapt into the moat of the castle. 
 We have been seeking her since this morning early. 
 God! what faithful love! let her alone; nothing 
 can be done with her.' 
 
 " I here recognized the mild-tempered Yon Lan- 
 denberg. How well did he now speak for me ! I 
 could have fallen at his feet. 
 
 " ' Well, Gertrude,' cried a fourth to me, ' will you 
 not take rational advice ? Do not kill yourself! 
 Save yourself for the world ! you will not repent of 
 it.' Who was this 1 Margaret ! I trembled ; it was 
 she who wanted to persuade me at Brugk to leave the
 
 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 criminal "VVart to his fate, and pass days of joy with 
 her. Then I, too, could have almost exclaimed, ' God ! 
 this is too much ! cease ! ' 
 
 "Agnes made a signal to an esquire to raise me 
 tip, and bring me away from the scaffold. He 
 approached me ; but I threw my arm round it, and 
 implored my own and my husband's death ; but in 
 vain ; two men dragged me away. I besought assist- 
 ance from Heaven : it was granted me. 
 
 " Von Landenberg (otherwise a faithful servant of 
 Austria) once more ventured to speak for me. ' Cease 
 to humble her : such fidelity is not found on earth ; 
 angels in heaven must rejoice at it. But it would 
 be good if the people were driven away ! ' 
 
 " They let me loose again ; the horsemen departed ; 
 tears flowed from Lamprecht's eyes ; he had acted 
 strictly according to his duty, and executed the will 
 of the queen ; he could now listen to the voice ot 
 nature, and weep with me. ' I can hold out no longer, 
 noble lady ! I am vanquished ; your name shall be 
 mentioned with glory among saints in heaven, for 
 this world will forget it. Be faithful unto death, 
 and God will give you the crown of life,' said he. He 
 gave me his hand, and departed. 
 
 " Every one now left the place except the execu- 
 tioner and the guard. Evening came on, and at length 
 silent night ; a stormy wind arose, and its howling 
 joined with the loud and unceasing prayers which I 
 put up to the Almighty.
 
 GERTRUDE VON DER WART. 51 
 
 " One of the guard now brought me a cloak,' to 
 protect me from the wind, because it was night ; but 
 I got upon the wheel, and spread it upon the naked 
 and broken limbs of my husband. The wind whistled 
 through his hair ; his lips were dry. I fetched some 
 water in my shoe, which was a refreshment to us 
 both. I know not, my dearest Margarita, how it 
 was possible for me to live through such heartbreak- 
 ing and cruel hours. But I lay as if guarded and 
 wonderfully strengthened by God, continually praying 
 near the wheel, on which my whole world reposed. 
 
 " As often as a sigh broke from the breast of my 
 Rudolph, it was a dagger in my heart ; but I con- 
 soled myself with the hope that, after a short time of 
 suffering, the eternal joys of heaven would be my 
 portion ; and this gave me courage to suffer. I knew 
 for whom I suffered, and this gave me sti'ength in 
 the combat, so that I endured to the very last 
 mament. 
 
 " Though Wart had at first so earnestly begged me 
 not to increase his agonies by my presence, yet he 
 now thanked me as much for not having left him ; 
 in my prayers to God he found consolation and re- 
 freshment, and it was a comfort to his soul when I 
 prayed. 
 
 " How the last dreadful morning and noon were 
 
 spent, permit me to pass over in silence. A few 
 
 hours before evening, Rudolph moved his head for 
 
 the last time ; I raised myself up to him. He mur- 
 
 E 2
 
 52 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 mured very faintly, but with smiling love upon his 
 lips, these words : ' Gertrude, this is fidelity till death /' 
 and expired. On my knees I thanked God for the 
 grace which He had given me to remain faithful to 
 the end." 
 
 " Oh ! lovely are ye, Love and Faith, 
 
 Enduriug to the last ! 
 She had one meed, one smile in death, 
 And his worn spirit pass'd. 
 
 While ev'n as o'er a martyr's grave 
 
 She knelt on that sad spot, 
 And weeping, bless'd the God who gavo 
 
 Strength to forsake it not ! "
 
 [argarrt 
 
 " What weight of duty 
 
 Lay on a child from such a parent sprung, 
 What virtuous toil to shine with his renown, 
 Has been my thought by day, my dream by night." 
 
 MALLET.
 
 Margaret 
 
 BOEN1508. DIED 1544. 
 
 A FAIR family picture the fairer in grouping for 
 tlie deep shadows which form its background has 
 been drawn for us by a gifted authoress of recent 
 times, in the "Household of Sir Thomas More." 
 In it there is no imaginary excellence, the artist 
 flatters not himself in perfectioning his subjects : 
 eminently pleasing and graceful as the portraiture 
 is, it possesses a still higher advantage, that of 
 accuracy, for it has been taken from life. 
 
 Upon the canvas we see, sharp and angular in the 
 sunlight, the large quaint mansion of the Chancellor. 
 It is situated at Chelsea, hard by the river ; indeed, 
 the large and beautiful gardens stretch down to the 
 very water's edge. There, looking across the terrace, 
 perched upon the balustrades of which, Juno and 
 Argus, the two favourite peacocks, unfold their bur- 
 nished glories, is the pavilion, where Erasmus used 
 to sit conversing with his learned and illustrious
 
 56 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 friend. Those are the windows of the " Academia," 
 shaded by their cool green curtains ; glancing within, 
 we find three or four fair maidens bending over their 
 desks, some writing, some reading ; all with an air 
 of pleasant earnestness. Then comes the chapel ; 
 and there, far above, one may see the observatory, 
 whither royalty itself ofttimes ascends to watch the 
 stars, and discourse upon their nature, and the laws 
 which limit their bright courses, with the sire of 
 that gentle sisterhood, the master of that happy 
 household. 
 
 Without the limit of the domain, rises, from the 
 embowering shade of majestic trees, many a neigh- 
 bouring mansion, enriched by every charm wealth 
 and power perhaps taste also can impart. Fur- 
 ther on is the almshouse, guerdon of Sir Thomas 
 More's benevolence ; and there the church, in which, 
 upon fasts, festivals, and Sundays, he may be seen, 
 clothed in a white surplice, himself assisting in the 
 celebration of that ritual whose dogmas, however 
 erroneous, the lustre of his conscientious sincerity 
 irradiates, as does the sun's early beam the prismatic 
 colours of the gossamer steeped in dew. 
 
 Like a series of dissolving views, rises before us 
 scene after scene of that "eventful history." We 
 behold, yonder, upon the bosom of the " cleare 
 shining Thames," barges pass and repass, filled with 
 glittering company. Anon, heralded by a flock of 
 swans, which come breasting the water with their
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 57 
 
 milk-white prows, the wherry lands three persons, 
 Sir Thomas and the " deare little man " Erasmus, 
 together with a tall stripling, who carries the cloak 
 of the former ; and to meet them, we see issue from 
 the house a fair girl, whom we may presently know 
 for the favourite child, the " best-beloved Meg ; " and 
 she kisses the hands of the elders, and laughs and 
 blushes when the tall lad, an old playmate long 
 absent, no other than Will Roper himself, makes as 
 if he would perform the same ceremony with her 
 soft cheek, only he has no courage ; whereat Sir 
 Thomas laughs, and cries, apropos of his two in- 
 effectual attempts, that " the third time 's lucky." 
 
 Presently, it is in the hayfield, we see the father 
 and his children, where the summer sun is lying in 
 slanting evening rays along the fragrant rows. There 
 the laughing girls pursue the liveliest pastimes of 
 youthful innocence ; they swathe him, not a whit 
 less merry, in ropes made of the hay ; but when, at 
 length, in soberer mood, he reclines at full length 
 Amongst it, it is upon Margaret's knee his head 
 rests, it is to Margaret's ear he addresses, with 
 closed eyes, the expression of his thoughtful dream- 
 ing of " that far-off, future day, Meg, when thou and 
 I shall looke back on this hour, and this bay-field, and 
 my head on thy lap." 
 
 And now, a less bright vision. The favourite child 
 struck down by disease, we see the father watching at 
 her bedside, or praying, with almost frantic hope, for
 
 58 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 her restoration to health. In his agony, words escape 
 which show how dearer than child ever can be to him 
 agaiti, is that slight suffering form. If she die, he says 
 with solemnity, for her sake will he abjure the world, 
 its honours, its triumphs, for evermore. 
 
 Pass on. The invalid comes forth to breathe the 
 healthful air. Colour steals back to her cheek, the 
 lustre to her eye. Guests arrive ; among them, the 
 two maiden aunts, the " lay nuns ; " and it is plea- 
 sant to see that these, who have parted for ever 
 with the youthful wreath of rose and passion-flower, 
 can yet smile with joy, scarcely reflected, to see such 
 garlands twined around the bright heads of their sis- 
 ter's children. But, in a little time, another visitor is 
 seen, a large man, with a fair, handsome countenance, 
 and reddish, gold hair ; and he walks with his arm 
 around the neck of the Chancellor, "for an hour or 
 soe," the latter addressing him by the title, just then 
 coming into ordinary use for the first time, " your 
 Majesty." 
 
 And now we have an artist, painting in a cool, 
 sequestered-looking chamber, where all the light is 
 excluded, save that which downward falls upon his 
 work. At his side sits the same gentle form which 
 has so often greeted us, less sylph-like in its propor- 
 tions than of old, and with a graver, yet a deeper 
 happiness, lying in the luminous abyss of her beau- 
 tiful eyes. Sometimes the "tall stripling" stripling 
 no longer is there, too ; and then her cheek is
 
 MAIIGARKT ROPER. 59 
 
 brighter still, her accents tenderer ; whilst, ever and 
 anon, flashes of the old playfulness break out, alike 
 in daughter and father ; for a fair-haired boy nestles 
 in her arms, who plays with the painter's colours, and 
 climbs his knee to ses if the picture is like " grand- 
 father." 
 
 But Hans Holbein and his easel fade away, and 
 it seems as if a cloud were hanging between the sun 
 and that once cheery house, for all the children's 
 smiles and merry singing voices that fill it now. 
 There is an air of gloom strangely pervading that 
 cool flower-studded garden ; and in the pavilion sits 
 Margaret, alone and in tears, trying to decipher a 
 scarcely legible letter, which seems, as indeed it is, 
 written with but a clumsy substitute for ink, a morsel 
 of coal, a letter which dates its mission from a 
 prison ! 
 
 Such are some of the scenes vividly brought back 
 to our thought by the very name of " More," and 
 not one of them but has been painted fully, and with 
 truthful pathos. Whatever, in the way of illustra- 
 tion, therefore, we may say of Margaret, the principal 
 figure in that group, of Margaret, the favourite 
 child in the household, of Margaret, the highest 
 and the best, must necessarily be de trop, after what 
 has been already so well, and so earnestly depicted. 
 All that remains is to afford a simple recital of the 
 principal circumstances connected with the elucida- 
 tion of that filial devotion which has fairly won her
 
 60 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 a prominent place in the temple of filial heroism ; and 
 this we propose to do in the following sketch. 
 
 Margaret More was the daughter of a Miss Joanna 
 Colte, of New Hall, in Essex, who was married to the 
 elegant author of the "Utopia" in the year 1507. 
 The match was one of inclination, and the young 
 husband appears to have had nothing left to desire 
 for many years after his union. Death, however, 
 deprived him of his beloved wife, after she hud borne 
 him three daughters, of whom Margaret was the 
 eldest, and then a son, all of whom were of tender 
 age at the period of her demise. 
 
 Upon their marriage, the young couple had taken 
 a house in Bucklersbury, and here their children were 
 born ; but afterwards, and probably about the time 
 of their father's return from his mission to Bruges, 
 he purchased Crosby Place, a mansion more in keep- 
 ing with his fortunes, which were then steadily in 
 the ascendant. In 1516, when Margaret was about 
 eight years old, he was appointed one of the privy 
 councillors of the sovereign, and the following year 
 received the dignity of Master of the Eequests. The 
 before-named journey to Bruges formed the ground- 
 work of his famous work, the "Utopia." In the preface 
 the following remarks occur, which give a very fair 
 idea of his domestic life, and the description of home 
 his daughters were likely to enjoy : 
 
 " Whilst," says Sir Thomas, " I daily either plead 
 other men's causes, or hear them sometimes as an
 
 MARGARET ROPER, Gl 
 
 arbiter, otherwliiles as a judge ; whilst this mau I 
 visit for friendship, another for business ; and whilst I 
 busy myself abroad about other men's matters all the 
 whole day, I leave no time for myself; that is, for 
 study. For when I come home, I must discourse 
 with my wife, chat with my children, speak with my 
 servants ; and seeing this must needs be done, I 
 number it amongst my affairs ; and needful they are, 
 unless one will be a stranger in his own house ; for 
 we must endeavour to be affable and pleasing unto 
 those whom either nature, chance, or choice hath made 
 our companions ; but with such measure, it must be 
 done, that we do not mar them with affability, or 
 make them of servants our masters, by too much 
 gentle entreaty and favour. Whilst these things are 
 doing, a day, a month, a year passeth. When, then, 
 can I find any time to write 1 for I have not yet 
 spoken of the time that is spent in eating and sleep- 
 ing, which things alone bereave most men of half 
 their life. As for me, I get only that spare time 
 which I steal from my meat and sleep, which, because 
 it is but small, I proceed slowly ; yet, it being some- 
 what, I have now, at the length, prevailed so much, 
 as I have finished, and sent unto you Peter, my 
 Utopia." 
 
 The next move Sir Thomas made was to the" house 
 at Chelsea ; and here, unconscious of the fatality 
 hanging over him, he hoped to pass the remainder 
 of his days. At this time he had formed a second
 
 62 DOilLSTIC HEROINIIS. 
 
 marriage with a lady named Alice Middleton, a 
 widow, some years older than himself; arid in so 
 doing, he had possibly his children's welfare princi- 
 pally in view. A large portion of time was now 
 devoted to their improvement ; and if he did not 
 positively take upon himself the responsibility of 
 their education, he supervised so constantly the 
 teaching of the excellent tutors he provided, that it 
 is not surprising they imbibed his habits of thought, 
 and grew to be worthy followers of the high example 
 he afforded them. 
 
 The two sisters of Margaret More, Elizabeth and 
 Cecilia, shared with herself the talents and tastes of 
 their father ; but their brother John, who was the 
 youngest of the family, was also the least-gifted by 
 nature. While his sisters were studying Plato, and 
 composing Latin epistles, he was performing all kinds 
 of mischievous pranks, and seeking amusement in 
 every possible shape that presented itself. This was 
 the occasion of Sir Thomas's remark, " that the mother 
 of his girls, not content with them, desired ardently 
 to have a boy, and was at last given one who meant 
 to remain a boy as long as he lived." 
 
 Of the interesting trio, the eldest daughter appears 
 to have possessed at once the superior talents and the 
 most Attractive manners. " She was," says her bio- 
 grapher, "to Sir Thomas More what Tullia was to 
 Cicero, his delight and comfort." Early she became 
 proficient in Greek and Latin ; thus qualifying herself,
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 6.3 
 
 if not for a sharer in his studies, at least for an intel- 
 ligent companion. Cardinal Pole was so impressed 
 by the elegance of her style in Latin writing, that 
 some difficulty was experienced in persuading him it 
 was the production of a woman's pen. She wrote two 
 declamations in English, which her father, by way of 
 exercise, proposed to her to turn into Latin. He 
 made a translation at the same time she did hers, and 
 upon comparing them, it was found difficult to deter- 
 mine which of the two was the best as well as most 
 elegant version. 
 
 In languages, Dr. Clement and Mr. Gunnel were 
 Margaret's instructors ; but the arts and sciences were 
 by no means forgotten, and to assist her in overcoming 
 the difficulties of these, such teachers as were espe- 
 cially qualified were given her. Sir Thomas was a 
 devoted admirer of music, and encouraged his chil- 
 dren in its exercise. This was one of their favourite 
 recreations when the more serious study of theology 
 and physics, especially recommended by her father, 
 left Margaret at leisure for lighter occupations. 
 
 It was Sir Thomas More's custom to go into the 
 chapel every morning with his family, and remain 
 there while not only the ordinary prayers were read, 
 but the Psalms and Litany. The same duty was 
 observed at the close of the day, when the Collects 
 were added to the Psalms, &c. The whole of every 
 Friday he devoted to his religious exercises. While 
 the family dined, some person read aloud, always from
 
 61 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 a profitable, often from a religions book. "We may 
 conceive, in a household thus ably regulated, -what 
 must have been the happiness and contentment of the 
 inmates. Perhaps no better idea may be conveyed of 
 the patriarchal simplicity which perpetually reigned 
 there, culminating the excellence that characterized 
 it, than in the words of Erasmus, which we here 
 transcribe : 
 
 " More," he writes, in a letter addressed to an inti- 
 mate friend, " has built near London, on the banks of 
 the Thames, a commodious house, where he converses 
 affably with his family, consisting of his wife, his 
 son and daughter-in-law, his three daughters and their 
 husbands, with eleven grandchildren. There is no 
 man living so fond of his children, or who possesses a 
 more excellent temper. You would call his house the 
 academy of Plato. But I should rather do it an injury 
 by such a comparison. It is rather a school of Chris- 
 tian goodness, in which piety, virtue, and the liberal 
 sciences, are studied by every individual of the family. 
 No wrangling or intemperate language is heard ; no 
 one is idle ; the discipline of the household is courtesy 
 and benevolence, and every one performs his duties 
 with cheerfulness and alacrity." 
 
 This opinion is valuable as being, not that of an 
 ordinary visitor upon high days and holidays, when 
 everybody donned their company manners with the 
 festival clothing, but the result of the observation of a 
 constant guest, and one before whom it was highly
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 65 
 
 improbable that the smallest concealment would ever 
 be practised. 
 
 Illustrious in every point of view was Sir Thomas 
 More : refined of speech, playful of wit, erudite as 
 magnanimous, and firmly devoted to the stern path 
 of rectitude, while his heart acknowledged with 
 feminine impressionability every impulse of tender- 
 ness, it is not astonishing to observe the mixture of 
 respect and love, little short of adoration, borne 
 him by his family. Erasmus, Colet, Linacre, Grocyn, 
 Latimer, Tunstal, Lily, Pole, and Fisher, were his 
 intimate friends, and the constant associates of his 
 daughters. Erasmus seems to have been the most 
 valued among these interesting names. In several 
 letters to Margaret, we find him praising her as a 
 woman famous not only for piety and virtue, but for 
 true and solid learning. He it was who gave to her 
 the title of "Britannia Decus," the honour or glory 
 of Britain, a compliment which, coming from him, 
 she must have very highly appreciated. 
 
 For filial love, it seems to have been hereditary, as 
 one fact alone goes far to prove. Sir Thomas, himself, 
 at the time Lord Chancellor of England, used to stop 
 every morning on his way to Westminster, and going 
 into the King's Bench, of which his father was judge, 
 to kneel, and ask the old man's blessing before going 
 to sit in Chancery. The attribute, more or less 
 existent in every member of the Chancellor's family, 
 shone most brilliantly in the eldest child ; in fact, was 
 p
 
 f,6 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the moving spring of her character. Such love as this 
 father and daughter bore each, other, can scarcely 
 be conceived in these days of lukewarmness and in- 
 gratitude to the authors of our being, and the givers 
 of all the earthly comfort and happiness we enjoy. 
 What can form a more painful contrast than their 
 intercourse, which, sublimated by holy love, was distin- 
 guished by its courteous tenderness, with the rough, 
 ill-bred independence too often exhibited by the 
 young towards the old in our day] It was proved 
 in the sequel that she whom he cherished was worthy 
 the rich treasure of such parental confidence. 
 
 When Margaret was about nineteen, she was at- 
 tacked by an epidemic of a highly dangerous character, 
 termed the sweating sickness. It had appeared first 
 in England at the end of the previous century, and 
 broke out at intervals up to the year 1528, when it 
 happily ceased. This malady it was, which, in the 
 Tune of that year, caused a panic even to stout-hearted 
 Wolsey, and so affected the king, as to induce him, in 
 great alarm for the health of his soul, engendered by 
 that for the body, to patch up a temporaiy reconcilia- 
 tion with the injured Catharine, and send off Anne 
 Boleyn to Hever Castle, where, as it happened, both 
 herself and her father fell ill from the same pesti- 
 lence within a few days. Margaret More had a narrow 
 escape of her life. She lay for many days so danger- 
 ously ill, that the physicians gave little hope to her 
 afflicted relatives The only chance of recovery was
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 67 
 
 to keep up a constant sudorific action, and to prevent 
 the patient from sleep at the critical period. Nothing 
 can be more touching than the account given of the 
 father's tearful anxiety during this terrible illness. 
 Every moment snatched from attendance at the in- 
 valid's bedside, was spent by him in fervent prayer. 
 His solicitations were graciously answered ; Margaret 
 recovered ; lived to prove a faithful child to so faith- 
 ful a parent, and to administer the best earthly con- 
 solations that noble heart could receive, in the hour 
 of imprisonment, and in the bitterness of death. 
 
 All Sir Thomas More's children were married eai'ly, 
 but Margaret first, who must have become Mrs. Roper 
 shortly after her recovery from the epidemic, and 
 when she was in her twentieth year. There was 
 scarcely more than a year's difference in age between 
 the sisters respectively. Elizabeth married John 
 Dancey, and Cecilia, Giles Heron; and the hus- 
 bands of all three were fitting matches in point of 
 birth. The only child of Mrs. More also, Margaret 
 Middleton, who was about the age of her mother's 
 stepdaughters, married near the same time. So far 
 from causing conflicting interests, these marriages 
 seem to have enhanced the harmony and content- 
 ment of the household. All lived with Sir Thomas, 
 at Chelsea ; nor did the new ties they had formed 
 abate an iota of the devotion experienced towards 
 him by his entire family. Besides these, there was a 
 poor relation of the More family, brought up from a 
 F 2
 
 68 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 child among them, another Margaret married several 
 years after to their tutor, Dr. John Clement, born in 
 the same year as our heroine. This young lady seems 
 to have been regarded in the light of a beloved child, 
 and worthy the benefits conferred upon her. It is 
 a striking illustration of the peculiar temperament 
 and happy system of education of Sir Thomas, that 
 all these young women became noted for possessing, in 
 a high degree, those characteristics which most nearly 
 approximate perfection in the feminine nature, while 
 they were eminent, even in those days of learning, for 
 a lore seldom attained by members of their own sex. 
 Surely, this ought to be a sufficient answer to those 
 narrow intellects who maintain scholarly cultivation 
 incompatible with the gentler attributes of woman. 
 So true it is, that 
 
 "The woman's cause is man's ; they rise or sink 
 Together. 
 
 He gains in sweetness and in moral height 
 She mental breadth,nor fails in childward care ; 
 Nor losing childlike in the larger mind, 
 Till at the last she set herself to man, 
 Like perfect music unto noble words." 
 
 The peaceful calm which reigned over the house at 
 Chelsea, was soon to be dispelled. Upon the disgrace 
 of Wolsey, the favour of the fickle monarch, Henry 
 VIII., fixed upon Sir Thomas More, and most reluct- 
 antly did he accept the high office of Lord Chancellor, 
 now forced upon him. The cardinal had never been a 
 favourite with his successor ; but the same courteous
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 69 
 
 spirit had always been exemplified by the latter, even 
 when his sentiments had caused him to be most in 
 opposition. To the foresight and penetration of Sir 
 Thomas More, the dignity offered him only presented 
 a dangerous and equivocal aspect. It is more than 
 probable he mentally predicted the result of the step 
 circumstances now dictated ; nor does it appear that 
 he was at any time dazzled by a condescending fami- 
 liarity, which, to one who read the character of his 
 royal patron as he did, could have presented no cause 
 for pride or triumph. 
 
 The honour thus "thrust upon the unwilling 
 shoulders" of her father, withdrew Margaret more 
 than she had been ever before, from the companion- 
 ship and teaching she so highly appreciated. Her 
 children, dear as they were, formed no substitute 
 for the loss of the one who was equally missed 
 by her husband and herself. During the period 
 which follows, the courageous endurance of this 
 noble-hearted woman was probably called into hourly 
 action. The mind of her father was oppressed by 
 business, or distracted by the responsibilities of power. 
 In the solitude of her home, whilst educating her 
 children or studying her father's favourite authors, 
 she was insensibly maturing the heroic spirit which, 
 later on, exemplified itself; but the process was a 
 painful one, the more so, that Sir Thomas's confi- 
 dence had, doubtless, foreshadowed to her the end ! 
 
 The new queen, Anne Boleyn, who had already
 
 70 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 compassed the downfall of "Wolsey, was to prove the 
 instrument of the present chancellor's destruction. 
 Too sincere for a courtier, too much influenced by 
 conviction to retain office when ability to serve his 
 country was withdrawn, in a word, preferring in- 
 tegrity to place, Sir Thomas More, after expressing 
 his disapprobation of the king's conduct relative to 
 his repudiated wife, the unfortunate Catharine, de- 
 clared his intention of resigning the chancellorship. 
 Henry, whose regard for his faithful minister had 
 yet some vitality, combated strongly this resolu- 
 tion ; but More, urging that he was growing old, 
 and had need of repose, prevailed at last, and re- 
 tired from court in the May of the year 1532, with- 
 drawing to the quiet home he had long sighed for, 
 and to the daughter who was its chief ornament and 
 his purest consolation. 
 
 An interesting account is given of the words used 
 by the master of the hitherto happy and united house- 
 hold, upon his return to Chelsea, and when the dis- 
 covery had to be made that he, who had also been 
 ever a liberal patron, a refined Maecenas, could no 
 longer support the heavy outlay of such an establish- 
 ment. Sir Thomas, living under the same roof, and 
 in the midst of his family, the expenses of which he 
 had hitherto defrayed from his revenue, knew not 
 how, on the resignation of his office, to support the 
 idea of a separation from them. Having assembled 
 Lis children together, he advised with them respect-
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 71 
 
 ing the measures which it would be necessary to 
 pursue ; and, while they listened to him in mourn- 
 ful and respectful silence, thus addressed them : 
 "I have been brought up at Oxford, at an inn of 
 Chancery, at Lincoln's Inn, and in the king's court 
 from the lowest degree to the highest ; and yet have 
 I, in yearly revenues, at this present time, little left 
 me above one hundred pounds a year. If, therefore, 
 we continue to live together, we must all become con- 
 tributors. But my counsel is, that we descend not to 
 the lowest fare first j we will not yet comply with 
 Oxford fare, nor that of New Inn ; but we will begin 
 with Lincoln's Inn diet, where many persons of dis- 
 tinction live very agreeably. And should we find 
 ourselves incapacitated from living thus the first 
 year, we will, the next, conform ourselves to that 
 of Oxford. Should our purses not even allow us 
 that, we may afterwards, with bag and wallet, go 
 and beg together, hoping that, for pity, some good 
 people will give us their charity ; and at every man's 
 door we will sing a Salve regina, whereby we shall 
 still keep company and be merry together." 
 
 This year was a sad one for the More family in 
 several ways. One of their griefs was the death of 
 Sir John, the grandfather of Margaret, who was 
 beloved by them all, and whose loss was especially 
 severe to his son, the ex-lord-chancellor. A very 
 brief interval elapsed, when, refusing to take the oath 
 of supremacy, Sir Thomas was warned by his friends,
 
 72 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 who speedily found their fears but too well founded. 
 He was sent to the Tower, as a means of forcing him 
 into the required concession. "We can form a faint 
 idea, from the attachment already depicted between 
 the parties, of the agony of this separation. It was 
 in the lovely spring time, when everything in nature 
 teemed with promise, that the dark cloud fell upon 
 that house ; the bright face, which had been the 
 source of sunshine throughout it, was withdrawn, and 
 the idolized parent dragged away, never to be again 
 restored ! 
 
 Twelve weary months Sir Thomas lay in prison, 
 twelve weaiy months his eldest and best-beloved child 
 wore out a burdensome existence of suspense and pain. 
 It will be scarcely supposed that Margaret would 
 relax her efforts to obtain an interview with the 
 prisoner until that object had been accomplished ; 
 and, at length, in consequence of incessant impor- 
 tunity, she prevailed. Poignant had been her grief, 
 but, upon admission to his prison, she was shocked 
 yet more deeply by the discovery of the state of desti- 
 tution to which the royal tyrant had consigned his 
 former favourite. 
 
 It is said, that when Sir Thomas More was first 
 conveyed in custody to the Tower, he gave to the 
 porter who, in accordance with an established custom, 
 demanded as his fee, the cloak or uppermost garment 
 he wore his cap, saying, " That is my uppermost 
 garment. I would, for your sake, friend, it were of
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 73 
 
 greater value." This remark seems to declare his con- 
 viction that, once an inmate of the terrible structure, 
 no further occasion would be given him for a covering 
 for his head : it said, " I shall never issue hence again 
 I shall die here," with sad significance. Too well 
 founded was the involuntary prediction. This world 
 was at an end for him ; there was no going forth 
 more, except to pass the threshold of another ! 
 
 The bishop of Rochester, one of More's dearest 
 friends, had been incarcerated near the same time, on 
 account of similar contumacy. No entreaty nor threat 
 could induce these men to waive the conscientious 
 scruples they entertained ; neither would acknowledge 
 the king's supremacy. Bishop Fisher's case was more 
 distressing, in one sense, even than that of his friend, 
 for he was a more aged man, between seventy and 
 eighty years old ; indeed, even Henry himself, heart- 
 less as he was, might have been thought capable of 
 extending some compassionate solicitude to a prisoner 
 so entitled to pity and respect. His sufferings were a 
 transcript of those of Sir Thomas More, and we may 
 judge of them by an extract from a letter written 
 by the bishop, from his prison in the " Bell Tower," to 
 Cromwell : " Furthermore, I beseech you to be good 
 master in my necessity ; for I have neither shirt nor 
 suit, nor yet other clothes that are necessary for me 
 to wear, but that be ragged and rent too shamefully. 
 Notwithstanding, I might easily suffer that, if they 
 would keep my body warm. But my diet also, God
 
 <4 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 knoweth how slender it is at many times. And now 
 in mine age, my stomach may not away with but a 
 few kinds of meats, which if I want, I decay forth- 
 with," This learned and venerable man, the friend of 
 Henry in his earliest years, the firm adherent of his 
 father, and the counsellor recommended on her death- 
 bed by the countess of Richmond to her royal grand- 
 son, this man, when attainted of misprision of treason 
 for refusing the oaths, was thrown into a dungeon, 
 and left in sickness and suffering, without sufficient 
 clothing, and all but in want of sustenance ! "We 
 doubt whether Tiberius, Nero, or Caligula furnished a 
 worse instance than Henry did of rancorous tyranny. 
 That More was relieved from a condition altogether as 
 miserable, was mainly owing to the " filial heroism " 
 of his beloved daughter. 
 
 Once admitted to his presence, Margaret employed 
 the precious moments in urging her father to oppose 
 the king's will no longer, but to save the sacrifice of a 
 life so dear to them all, by concession. She herself, 
 " less tenacious, or less bigoted," had taken the oath, 
 but with the following reservation, " as far as would 
 stand with the law of God." Arguments, entreaties, 
 and even tears failed, however, to shake the deter- 
 mination and constancy of the prisoner ; and Margaret, 
 with a heavy heart, left him, and returned home. 
 
 " What think you, my most dear father," s"he 
 writes, " comforts us, in this your absence, at Chelsea ? 
 Surely, the remembrance of your manner of life
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 75 
 
 passed among us, your holy conversation, your whole- 
 some counsels, your examples of virtue ; of which 
 there is hope that they do not only persevere with 
 you, but that they are, by God's grace, much more 
 increased." During the year of Sir Thomas More's 
 imprisonment, all that could be done was done by 
 Margaret to alleviate his confinement, and solace both 
 in their separation. Letters passed constantly between 
 them, many of which have been preserved, and serve 
 forcibly to illustrate the tender affection subsisting 
 between these two noble hearts. " There is nothing 
 more sweet unto me than thyself, my dearest 
 daughter, thee especially, whom virtue and learning 
 have made most dear unto me," writes the prisoner 
 from his desolate dungeon ; and Margaret responds 
 with no less devotion, exhorting him to " accom- 
 modate himself to the king's pleasure," as the only 
 means of preserving to his children, the object of 
 their veneration and love. 
 
 That terrible twelvemonth passed all too rapidly. 
 In the May of the year 1535, the trial of Sir Thomas 
 More came on ; upon the 22nd of June, in that 
 " same year of blood," Bishop Fisher was dragged 
 to execution ; and early on the 6th of the following 
 month, intimation was given to his friend and fellow- 
 prisoner, that " he was to die before nine in the 
 morning of the very day." "When Sir Thomas 
 Pope, More's " singular good friend," who brought 
 the intelligence, had departed, the condemned rose
 
 76 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 and began to prepare with alacrity for his execution. 
 Death must have been welcome to the worn and 
 heart-broken captive, emancipation from the dreary 
 hours passed within those melancholy walls, where he 
 was not only deprived of the society of a single 
 member of his family, but restricted in the use of pen, 
 paper, and ink, and above all, books, the refresh- 
 ment, if not the very nutriment, of his daily life. 
 Rich, the king's infamous solicitor, no friend of Sir 
 Thomas, had fetched them all away, and probably 
 delighted in the refinement of cruelty afforded him 
 by the task. The last letter to Margaret, the farewell 
 outpouring of hope, and the aspiration after " perfect 
 freedom," that beautiful discourse of peace and good- 
 will to man, of exhortation and blessing to herself, 
 had been traced with a piece of charcoal upon some 
 scraps of paper, mercifully left in his way for the 
 purpose by George, the lieutenant's servant. 
 
 A few days before, he had passed under the dreary 
 portal of the Tower to his trial ; he had appeared as 
 a traitor in the same court where he used to sit in 
 judgment, his brown hair changed to silver, his form 
 and countenance emaciated, supporting himself with 
 difficulty upon a staff; to such premature decrepitude 
 had his enemies reduced him ! The draught of 
 despair had been nearly drained that day ; but the 
 dregs of it were reserved for the moment which 
 witnessed not his condemnation, but a scene which 
 shortly followed it the severest trial of his whole
 
 Margaret Roper taking her farewell of her Father. 
 
 P 77.
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 77 
 
 life ; after which, the bitterness of death was in- 
 deed past. "As he moved from the bar, his sou 
 rushed through the hall, fell upon his knees, and 
 logged his blessing;" but upon reaching the Tower 
 wharf, his " dear daughter, Margaret Roper, forced 
 her way through the officers and halberdiers that 
 surrounded him, clasped him around the neck, and 
 sobbed aloud. Sir Thomas consoled her, and she 
 collected sufficient power to bid him farewell for ever; 
 but as her father moved on, she again rushed through 
 the crowds, and threw herself upon his neck. Here " 
 the strength, not " the weakness, of nature overcame 
 him, and he wept as he repeated his blessing, and 
 again uttered his Christian consolation. The people 
 wept too ; and his guards were so much affected, that 
 they could hardly summon up resolution to separate 
 the father and daughter ! " The noble victim was 
 once more to pass forth, and this time the old spirit 
 of calm fortitude forsook him not for a moment j 
 there was a flush upon his faded cheek, a lustre in his 
 eye, long quenched, but now flashing up afresh, a gleam 
 of the old wit-sparkle in the words he addressed to 
 those around him. 
 
 When informed of the king's " clemency " (!) in 
 commuting his sentence from " hanging, drawing, and 
 quartering " to simple decapitation, he said, " God pre- 
 serve all my friends from such royal favours ! " He rose 
 calmly, and apparelled himself for the last scene which 
 was so shortly to be enacted. One request only did
 
 78 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 he make, and this again had reference to her who, ever 
 since the death of her mother, seems to have been for 
 him the most valuable possession, the dearest conso- 
 lation the world afforded. " Let Margaret be allowed 
 the liberty of being present ; permit my child's eyes 
 to see the last of her father," he pleaded. So long as 
 life remained, it was a blessing inexpressible to think 
 that that true heart was beating near his own, that 
 the prayers of those pure lips he had taught to lisp 
 their first childish petitions, were uniting with his, 
 and floating around him as he passed the dread portal, 
 through which even her tried affection could in no 
 other shape accompany him ! 
 
 As usual on such occasions, the headsman demanded 
 pardon of the victim before proceeding to the fulfil- 
 ment of his odious vocation. He received for reply, 
 that he would that day confer upon Sir Thomas More 
 the greatest favour in the power of man to give. 
 "Strike not awry," was smilingly added, "for the sake 
 and credit of thy profession ; but hold, until I remove 
 my beard, for that, at least, has never committed any 
 treason." After declaring, in a clear voice, that he 
 died a faithful subject and a true Catholic, this great 
 man calmly laid his head upon the block, and in a 
 moment more had ceased to exist, for at one stroke it 
 was severed from the body. 
 
 When Margaret had visited her father in the Tower, 
 he had demanded how Anne Boleyn, the proximate 
 author of all his misfortunes, did. She replied, "that the
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 79 
 
 queen Lad never been better. Nothing was thought of 
 at court but dancing and sporting." " Never better, 
 you say, Meg," he rejoined sadly. " Alas ! it pitieth 
 me to think into what misery, poor soul, she will 
 shortly come. These dances of hers will prove such 
 dances, as with them she will spurn our heads off like 
 footballs ; but it will not be long ere her head will 
 dance the like dance." The account of More's execu- 
 tion being brought to the king as he sat " playing at 
 tables " with the queen, the conscience, hardened as it 
 was by crime, of the royal profligate, showed yet some 
 signs of discomposure, and saying to Anne, "Thou art 
 the cause of this man's death ! " he hastily withdrew, 
 to shut himself within the solitude of his chamber. 
 Even then the fulfilment of the prediction was on the 
 horizon of events ! " How prophetically he spoke these 
 words," says that grandson of More who became his 
 biographer, " was proved by the sequel of the tragedy." 
 Another year had not reached its expiration, before 
 the barge of the queen retraced the way from Green- 
 wich to the Tower, and this time she passed beneath 
 / a different entrance to that whence she had formerly 
 issued, in all the pride of bridal state. It is recorded, 
 that, passing beneath the sombre shadow of the 
 " Traitor's Gate," Anne, looking up with horror de- 
 picted upon her fair pale features, sank upon her 
 knees, and again reiterating her innocence of tho 
 charges imputed to her, called upon Heaven for 
 help and succour. In that bitter moment, and after-
 
 :0 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 wards, in the yet more terrible one, -when kneeling, 
 with steadfast eyes fixed on her executioner, she met 
 the same fate, it is but too probable the form of the 
 man murdered, if not by her actual, at least by her 
 indirect means, seemed to hover before her, and 
 share, with the memory of the supplanted Catha- 
 rine, that royal mistress to whom he had been faith- 
 ful, even unto death, in the mission of reproach and 
 retribution. 
 
 The sacrifice of Sir Thomas More was consummated 
 on a fine summer morning : we may fancy the sad 
 mockery of nature's brightest and loveliest hues spread- 
 ing over that dear old Chelsea garden, upon the fatal 
 day, to the heart-broken family of the victim. What 
 agonies of mind must have been endured by the de- 
 voted Margaret and her sisters ; by William Roper, 
 scarcely less attached than herself, to the noble father 
 of his wife ! In the very extremity of her grief, how- 
 ever, the favourite daughter preserved that endurance 
 and constancy of purpose which had, probably, been 
 one of the principal charms which knit her to her 
 father's breast. She was determined his remains 
 should find the resting-place which he had himself 
 destined, and where an epitaph by his own hand, was 
 .already placed in the chancel of the church, near their 
 quiet home. By her unwearied care and exertion, 
 the victim's body was interred, first in the chapel of 
 St. Peter's ad Vincula, in the Tower, and afterwards, 
 when opportunity served, brought to the church at
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 81 
 
 Chelsea. But still another enterprise possessed her 
 mind. That beloved head, with its countenance ever 
 uniformly tender towards her, was an object of ardent 
 yearning ; but immediately after the execution it had 
 been elevated high upon London Bridge, where that of 
 Bishop Fisher, his companion and friend, had been 
 fixed. The latter's was thrown into the Thames, in 
 order that Sir Thomas More's should replace it. It 
 is probable this circumstance suggested to Margaret 
 Roper the only means by which it was possible she 
 could obtain the object she desired. Watching and 
 waiting, the time arrived when no guard cared longer 
 about the preservation of " the head of the traitor ; " 
 it was lowered from the pole whereon it had been 
 raised, and Margaret tremblingly received the pre- 
 cious relic before it touched the river's edge, and, 
 unobserved, escaped, bearing it with her. The grand- 
 son of Sir Thomas, a Romanist, greedily credulous of 
 the very shadow of a miracle, and firmly possessed 
 with the belief that his grandfather had died " a 
 blessed and constant martyr" for the sake of his 
 church, declares that not only did Bishop Fisher's 
 countenance present a fresher and comelier appear- 
 ance after its fourteen days' exposure upon the bridge, 
 but that of Sir Thomas More, equally indestructible, 
 grew daily more life-like, until, when it came into his 
 daughter's possession, it was found that " his lively 
 favour was not all this while in anything almost dimi- 
 nished ; but the hairs of his head, being nearly grey 
 o
 
 82 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 before his martyrdom, seemed now, as it were, reddish 
 or yellow. Wherefore the people came daily to see 
 the strange sight " of these two miraculous heads, and 
 the passage over the bridge was so obstructed with their 
 going and coming, that " neither cart nor horse should 
 pass." Thus happened it that the executioner was 
 bidden to throw the heads successively into the river 
 in the night-time ; and thus was it that Margaret had 
 it in her power to inclose the treasured relic in a leaden 
 box, which she privately conveyed, when able to do so 
 securely, to the family burying-place in St. Dunstan's 
 church at Canterbury. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that, surrounded by spies, 
 at that time so numerous and so malignant, this pious 
 deed of filial affection remained long a secret. Mar- 
 garet Roper was summoned, before the council; and 
 boldly avowing the truth, and maintaining her rights 
 as well as sentiments, she was imprisoned by order of 
 the king. If they hoped to terrify or subdue her, they 
 were, however, mistaken. After suffering with calm- 
 ness for a period, she was unexpectedly liberated, and 
 permitted, without restriction, to seek her home and 
 her family. 
 
 She found her stepmother and the rest of the house- 
 hold in pecuniary distress, as well as plunged in pro- 
 found grief for the loss they had all sustained. They 
 had to thank the king's mercy for the confiscation 
 of Sir Thomas More's property, the widow being libe- 
 rally allowed from the proceeds of it, an annuity of
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 83 
 
 j20 for the remainder of her life ! There was now 
 a sad but general breaking up of the forlorn house- 
 hold : Mrs. Roper withdrew herself to domestic retire- 
 ment, and endeavoured to mitigate, by the education 
 of her children, the terrible conclusion to the devotion 
 and happiness of her girlhood. 
 
 It would be difficult to conceive a more perfect 
 character than we think is fairly presented to ex- 
 ample and admiration in the person of Margaret 
 Roper, completely embodying the beau ideal of the 
 Chancellor as to the qualifications desirable in a wife. 
 
 "We are tempted to quote the passage, if only foi 
 the purpose of showing how felicitously the theorist 
 succeeded in practically illustrating his system, by 
 educating a wife and mother upon the model he held 
 up to his fuiend. This model is contained in a Latin 
 poem, written to a friend by way of advice, and com- 
 mences by charging him to overlook beauty and wealth 
 in his choice, and join himself with a woman of virtue 
 and knowledge. 
 
 " May you meet with a wife who is not always 
 stupidly silent, nor always prattling nonsense. May 
 she be learned, if possible, or, at least, capable of being 
 made so. A woman thus accomplished will be always 
 drawing sentences and maxims of virtue out of all the 
 best authors of antiquity. She will be herself, in all 
 changes of fortune, neither puffed up in prosperity nor 
 broken by adversity. You will find in her an even, 
 cheerful, good-humoured friend, and an agreeable com- 
 G 2
 
 84 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 panion for life. She will infuse knowledge into your 
 children with their milk, and from their infancy train 
 them up to wisdom. Whatever company you are en- 
 gaged in, you will long to be at home, and retire with 
 delight from the society of men into the bosom of one 
 who is so dear, so intelligent, and so amiable. If .she 
 touches her lute, or sings to it any of her own compo- 
 sitions, her voice will soothe you in your solitude, and 
 sound more sweetly in your ear than that of the night- 
 ingale. You will spend with pleasure whole days and 
 nights in her conversation, and be ever finding out new 
 beauties in her discourse. She will keep your mind in 
 perpetual serenity, restrain its mirth from being disso- 
 lute, and prevent its melancholy from being painful. 
 
 " Such was, doubtless, the wife of Orpheus ; for who 
 would have undergone what he did to recover a foolish 
 lirid<!? Such was the daughter of Ovid, who was his 
 rival in poetry. Such was Tullia, as she is celebrated 
 by the most learned and most fond of fathers ; and 
 such was the mother of the Gracchi, who is no less 
 famous for having been their instructor than their 
 parent." 
 
 And that this was no impossible paragon of perfec- 
 tion, Margaret, the intelligent, the refined, the womanly, 
 for that is a word which embodies all that can re- 
 flect most lustre upon the maid, the wife, or the mother, 
 satisfactorily proved. " You, dear Margaret" (the f':d ln-r 
 says in a letter to her), " have never been a loiterer in 
 learning ; but you are so modest that you had rather
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 8/5 
 
 still accuse yourself of negligence than vainly boast of 
 ignorance." Yet, even at this time, she had shown 
 herself no mean contributor to the stores of literature. 
 Many of her Latin epistles, poems, and orations, had 
 been freely circulated, and met with universal praise. 
 A reply to Quintilian, an oration, in defence of the 
 rich man whom he accuses of having poisoned, with 
 certain venomous flowers in his garden, the poor man's 
 bees, is said to have rivalled in eloquence the produc- 
 tion to which it formed an answer. Besides her decla- 
 mations, before mentioned, Mrs. Roper composed a 
 treatise, " Of the Four last Things," which was cha- 
 racterized by so much power of thought and reasoning, 
 that her father abandoned in its favour, a discourse 
 which he had partly composed upon the same subject. 
 Added to these, she effected a translation of the Eccle- 
 siastical History of Eusebius from Greek into Latin ; 
 and this was again rendered into English, some years 
 after, by Mary, the youngest of her daughters, who 
 emulated, successfully, the pursuits of her accomplished 
 mother. For the essentially feminine attributes of 
 tenderness, charity, and endurance, we have seen, she 
 may be classed among the highest examples. The 
 name bestowed upon her by Erasmus, " the Honour 
 of England," had, doubtless, as significant an allusion 
 to her virtues, as to her eminent learning. 
 
 ~\Ve repeat, no more conclusive refutation could be 
 adduced to the arguments of those who would debar 
 our sex from the refined enjoyments of cultivated intel-
 
 86 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 lect and scholarly taste, than the circumstance that in 
 Margaret Roper the highest mental education was pro- 
 ductive of the truest moral excellences, going hand 
 in hand with every inherent sensibility or feminine 
 impulse, and enhancing, rather than diminishing them. 
 In fact the character we have djscussed corroborates 
 the just defence of well-educated ladies of rank, by 
 Dr. Johnson, who observes, that whereas one fault, or 
 its suspicion, in them, excites greater stigma, from the 
 malignancy of the vulgar, so the latter have all the 
 tendency to human errors, increased by ignorance, and 
 unconnected by the educational incentives to virtue. 
 It may be thought that the possession of strong innate 
 powers of reflection, induces a sternness incompatible 
 with the truly appropriate gentleness of woman ; but 
 this shaft of criticism falls powerless beside her grave, 
 who, though the counsellor of one of England's greatest 
 minds, recorded her filial tenderness by the injunc- 
 tion to be buried with her father's head resting on her 
 bosom. 
 
 In the examination and writings of Archdeacon 
 Philpot, we find the husband of our heroine appear- 
 ing as one of the commissioners appointed by 
 queen Mary, and exhibiting a rancorous spirit of 
 persecution towards Protestantism. Nothing can 
 be more grievous than to discover, even in other- 
 wise amiable dispositions, a fierce relentless hate 
 towards those who, if in error, should be restored " in 
 the spirit of meekness." In this view, the memory of
 
 MARGARET ROPER. 87 
 
 Sir Thomas More himself is tarnished ; nor can we 
 peruse the account of his severity to Bainham without 
 as much regret for the cruelty of his creed, as for its 
 tendency to obscure the intellectual as well as the 
 moral faculties. 
 
 The Latin inscription to the memory of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Roper, translated, is as follows : 
 
 " Here lieth interred William Roper, Esq., a venerable and 
 worthy man, the son and successor of the late John Roper, Esq. 
 
 "Also Margaret his wife, daughter of Sir Thomas More, 
 knight, once High Chancellor of England, a woman excellently 
 skilled in the Greek and Latin tongues. The above-mentioned 
 William Roper succeeded his father, John Roper, in the office 
 of prothonotary of the High Court of King's Bench ; and after 
 having discharged the duties of it faithfully fifty-four years, he 
 left it to his son Thomas. The said William Roper was liberal 
 both in his domestic and public conduct, kind and compassionate 
 in his temper, the support of the prisoner, the poor, and the 
 oppressed. 
 
 " He had issue by Margaret, his only wife, two sons and three 
 daughters, whose children and grandchildren he lived to see. 
 He lost his wife in the bloom of his years, and lived a widower 
 thirty-three years. At length (his days being fulfilled in peace) 
 he died, lamented by all, in a good old age, on the 4th day of 
 January, in the year of our redemption 1557, and of his age, 
 eighty-two."
 
 " The atrocities of Popery are on a par with its arrogance. 
 In every age it has been ready with the fire and the fagot ; and 
 every one who dared to dissent from its opinions was put to 
 death with the cruellest brutality. Popery is a wreck and a 
 scorn ; and man and knowledge have triumphed." 
 
 HOWITT.
 
 BOEN 1522. DIED 1546. 
 
 A DANGEROUS thing is it for controversies to arise, 
 upon any subject, between husband and wife, but upon 
 religious ones most of all. The weaker sex, it would 
 seem, may be pardoned almost any sin rather than the 
 presumption of opposing arguments, and exercising 
 reason, in the overthrow of a dogma, or the exposure 
 of an error. The woman who is wise will leave alto- 
 gether the discussion of ordinary topics where diver- 
 sity of opinion exists, or only prolong such to a point 
 which she may safely approach ; but in the case of 
 religion this cannot be done. " If a faithful woman 
 have an unbelieving husband," her duty is clear, nor 
 in remembering that she is "unequally yoked with an 
 unbeliever," must she forget that "he that loveth 
 father or mother more than Me, is not worthy of 
 Me." So meditated Anne Askew. 
 
 The story of this lady is briefly as follows : Two 
 country gentlemen in Lincolnshire a knight and his
 
 92 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 neighbour, an esquire devised, in furtherance of their 
 own interest, an union between their children when 
 the latter should attain a marriageable age. Before 
 this period arrived, the eldest daughter of Sir William 
 Askew died, but the father, unwilling to forego a 
 connection which held out great pecuniary advan- 
 tages, forced his second daughter, Anne, heedless of 
 her dislike and remonstrance, to fulfil her deceased 
 sister's engagement, by becoming the wife of Mr. 
 Kyme. Intuitive fear and antipathy, warned the 
 young bride of the dissimilarity and opposition she 
 would experience. Her marriage laid the founda- 
 tion of the misfortunes which agitated her short but 
 turbulent life, and resulted in a violent and untimely 
 end. 
 
 Sir William Askew had given his children a liberal, 
 and even scholarly education ; and the younger, espe- 
 cially, had profited by the spirit as well as erudition 
 of her teaching. Above all, she had read carefully 
 in secret, and studied for herself, that Holy Scripture 
 denied to her by the Church of which she was a 
 member ; for, becoming interested in the discussions 
 relative to the Reformation, she examined further 
 into the authorities whence the opposing parties drew 
 their opinions, until doubt was gradually lost in cer- 
 tainty, the perversion of gospel truth grew to be 
 regarded in its true and melancholy colours, and 
 she, first in private, and at length avowedly, adopted 
 the principles of the Reformers.
 
 ANNE ASKEW. 93 
 
 It proved, now, that Anne had not formed an 
 unjust estimate of the temper of her enforced help- 
 mate. Mr. Kyme, upon discovering the sentiments 
 of the new convert, forgot how exemplary had been 
 her life since the time her opposition to the match 
 had been overruled by the will of her father : he no 
 longer considered how good and faithful a wife and 
 mother she had shown herself; and with scarcely 
 an attempt, it would seem, to deal gently with one to 
 whom he owed so much forbearance, he listened to the 
 anathemas of his priests, and drove her with brutal 
 violence from her home. This conduct, in the esti- 
 mation of Anne, absolved her from the further duties 
 of what had been a constrained union, and she deter- 
 mined to sue for a divorce, doubtless convinced of the 
 hopelessness of ever endeavouring to live again beneath 
 the same roof, with so bigoted and violent a person. 
 
 In pursuance of this desire for a separation, de- 
 pressed at the severance of every domestic tie, but 
 resigned to all trials for the sake of the good cause, 
 she proceeded to London, and threw herself upon the 
 protection of those who had declared the Protestant 
 faith. Her reception was encouraging ; several ladies 
 about the queen, who herself secretly entertained 
 similar opinions with the persecuted proselyte, took up 
 her cause with warmth, and ultimately introduced her 
 to their royal mistress. Katharine Parr, the sixth 
 wife of Henry VIII., who had within the last two 
 or three years succeeded her murdered predecessor,
 
 94 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 Katharine Howard, in the unenviable graces of the 
 fickle monarch, was no mean theologian, and fully 
 impressed with the tenets of the Reformation. At 
 this very period she was composing several doctrinal 
 works, and compiling selections of prayers ; whilst 
 her enthusiastic exertions to promote the translation 
 of the Bible had even wrought upon the incipient 
 bigot, her stepdaughter Mary, afterwards of bloody 
 memory, to lend her aid to the furtherance of her 
 desire. In many respects, however, Anne Askew's 
 controversial knowledge exceeded that of the queen ; 
 and she urged upon her majesty the perusal of various 
 works which the arbitrary notions of the king, who 
 desired nothing better than to create an infallibility of 
 his own, to replace the defunct one of the Pope, and 
 his stringent statute against reading heretical books, 
 rendered a matter of peril. The queen was surrounded 
 by spies and traitors. " Envy, hatred, malice, and all 
 uncharitableness," dogged her steps ; nor could she say 
 or do the most innocent thing without misconstruc- 
 tion and suspicion. The Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, 
 of evil reputation, and Gardiner, the malignant bishop 
 of Winchester, were already striving, by every avail- 
 able means, to compass the destruction of this amiable 
 and learned lady, of whom it has been truly said, that 
 " the Protestant Church may well regard her as its 
 glory." Her influence over the king daily augment- 
 ing, and her probable formation of the opinions of the 
 young Prince Edward, son of poor Jane Seymour, made
 
 ANXE ASKEW. 95 
 
 her an object of fear and abhorrence to these men ; 
 but her irreproachable life, and the natural shrewdness 
 which detected her enemies, and led her to defeat 
 their intentions, rendered it a difficult business to 
 prove her compromised. They could not, in the first 
 instance, attack one occupying so prominent and 
 exalted a position as the queen ; and to this circum- 
 stance is attributed the extraordinary and unrelenting 
 persecution which the unfortunate appearance of the 
 innocent Mrs. Kyme at this crisis, set on foot against 
 the latter's opinions and life. She might safely be 
 attacked ; indeed, her history had doubtless travelled, 
 by means of the priests, whose arguments she had 
 dared to answer, to their brethren in London. It 
 were an act of loyalty and religious zeal to denounce 
 her, and comparatively easy to frighten or torture her 
 into admissions fatal to Queen Katharine, with whom, 
 it appeared, she was in some degree mixed up. 
 
 Accordingly, one March morning, Anne was seized, 
 taken away from her abode, and confronted with the 
 Bishops, the Chancellor, and the Lord Mayor, who 
 subjected her to a variety of examinations respecting 
 her faith, the opinions she held upon transubstan- 
 tiation, masses for the dead, and several other points. 
 The particulars of this examination she herself 
 recorded, and they were published after her death. 
 Her answers were characterized by a clear soundness, 
 extremely irritating to her inquisitors. The following 
 is an example of them :
 
 96 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 In the course of her examination, she was asked 
 by the Lord Mayor whether the priests could not 
 make the body of Christ, in allusion to the doctrine 
 of the Eucharist ? To which she replied, " I have 
 read that God made man ; but that man can make 
 God, I never yet read, nor, I suppose, ever shall 
 read." " After the words of consecration," re- 
 torted her adversary, "is it not the Lord's body?" 
 " No, it is but consecrated or sacramental bread." 
 " What if a mouse eat it after the consecration, 
 what shall become of the mouse?" "What shall 
 become of it, say you, my lord?" " I say that the 
 mouse is damned." " Alas, poor mouse ! " replied she, 
 smiling. Thus did her persecutors pervert the tra- 
 gedy of suffering and the sublimity of holy ordinances 
 into dogmatic puerilities, and contemptible evasion. 
 When threatened by the Chancellor with the stake, 
 she observed, that having searched the Scriptures, she 
 had never been able to find that either Christ, or his 
 Apostles, put any creature to death. The Chancellor 
 rebuked her for referring to the Scriptures, declaring, 
 with the usual popish boldness in mendacity, that 
 women were forbidden by St. Paul to speak of the 
 word of God. To this she modestly replied, that " the 
 prohibition of St. Paul respected teaching publicly in 
 the congregations." 
 
 Bale, in his " Examination of Mistress Anne 
 Askew," gives her husband the credit of bringing 
 the first accusation against her. He says it was at
 
 AXXE ASKEW. 97 
 
 Kyme's " labour and suit." If so, truly did she realize 
 the Saviour's pi'ediction, that His followers' foos 
 should be those of their own households. She was 
 detained by her judges about five hours, and then con- 
 veyed away in the custody of the clerk of the Council, 
 to the house of Lady Garnish. On the following day, 
 she was again brought up for interrogation, and, 
 failing other means to elicit something to her disad- 
 vantage, the bishop of Winchester desired to speak with 
 her alone. This she refused. They asked, why ? 
 " In the mouth of two or three witnesses every matter 
 should stand," she replied, " after Christ's and Paul's 
 doctrine." Again she was dismissed. " So went I 
 to my lady's again ; " " but on the Sunday she was," 
 she goes on to tell us, "sore sick, thinking no less 
 than to die ; therefore I desired to speak with 
 Latimer. It would not be. Then was I sent to 
 Newgate in my extremity of sickness, for in all my 
 life afore was I never in such pain. Thus the Lord 
 strengthen you in the truth. Pray, pray, pray!" 
 This touching faith in the efficacy of prayer, shows 
 how bitterly the future martyr had been tried. In 
 Newgate she employed herself, prohibited from any 
 intercourse with her friends, in holy meditations and 
 appeals to the supporting hand of the Almighty. Her 
 purpose never was shaken, and she constantly fortified 
 her resolution to endure the coming trial of her 
 principles. On the 23rd, one of her relatives, Mr. 
 Brittain, who had in vain offered bail for her re- 
 II
 
 98 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 appearance, visited her, and finding the condition she 
 was in, urged it so forcibly that he obtained permission 
 to become, with a Mr. Spilman, of Gray's Inn, her 
 surety. 
 
 But she was within a very short period again ap- 
 prehended, and summoned before the King's Council, 
 when, being found still impracticable, she was re- 
 manded to Newgate, and shortly after sent thence 
 to the Tower, where a final attempt was made to 
 procure a deposition fatal to Lady Suffolk, Lady 
 Herbert, and the queen, but without effect. " They 
 asked me of my lady of Suffolk, my lady of Sussex, 
 my lady of Hertford, my Lady Denny, and my 
 Lady Fitzwilliams. I said that if I should pro- 
 nounce anything against them, I were not able to 
 prove it." 
 
 In Newgate, Anne's spirits had sustained her 
 nobly. " Neither," she wrote, " do I wish death, 
 nor yet fear his might. I am as merry as one that 
 is bound towards heaven." In the Tower, gleams 
 of brightness from above, irradiated the dreary 
 walls of her prison, and strength, not of earth, 
 animated her delicate frame. The fierce "VVriotb.es- 
 ley having procured a royal order, to proceed to 
 the horrible extremity of the torture in Anne's 
 case, this disgraceful expedient was not only 
 carried into execution in his presence, but to his 
 lasting condemnation by his very hands. The lieu- 
 tenant of the Tower, horror-struck at the fiendish
 
 ANNE ASKEW. 99 
 
 duty he was enjoined to fulfil, at length refused further 
 to sti'ain the dislocated limbs of the innocent victim, 
 when Wriothesley and Rich, throwing off the officir.l 
 robes, as they had already abandoned the principles of 
 justice, worked the rack themselves. " Then," she 
 writes, " did they put ine on the rack, because I con- 
 fessed no ladies or gentlemen to be of my opinion ; 
 and thereon they kept me a long time ; and because I 
 lay still, and did not cry, my Lord Chancellor and 
 Master Rich took pains to rack me in their own hands, 
 till I was nigh dead." 
 
 Is it possible to conceive a more affecting picture 
 than is here pi'esented ? Alas, for the mingled pride 
 and brutality of human nature ! These were the persons 
 whp professed to teach men to follow in the footsteps 
 of the gentle and forgiving Jesus ! These were the 
 pretended exponents of the kindly precepts of the 
 Gospel ! Well might Cecil call Popery the devil's 
 masterpiece. Truly has another, describing the spirit 
 of bigotry, written, "She has no head, and cannot 
 think ; no heart, and cannot feel. When she moves, 
 it is in wrath ; when she pauses, it is amidst ruin ; 
 her prayers are curses, her god is a demon, her com- 
 munion is death, her vengeance is eternity, her deca- 
 logue is written in the blood of her victims ; and if 
 she stops for a moment in her infernal flight, it is 
 upon a kindred rock, to whet her vulture-fang for a 
 more sanguinary desolation." It is not our intention 
 to harrow the minds of the young and the guileless, 
 u 2
 
 100 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 whose years, and as yet tender nature, predispose 
 them to mercy, by the recapitulation of deeds which 
 nothing but malevolence and ignorance of the Gospel 
 as seen in the character of its bright Exemplar 
 could have evoked. We would rather turn to magnify 
 in Anne the power of God, confessing with her 
 chronicler, Bale, that she showed in her suffer- 
 ings the fruits of a true believer, and that death 
 unto such an one is a profitable harvest, which, after 
 toil and labour, " bringeth in most delectable fruit." 
 She indeed endured, " as seeing Him who is in- 
 visible." 
 
 Set free at length from the terrible engine of 
 punishment, Anne, seated on the ground, still undis- 
 mayed by pain, and more than ever zealous of God's 
 glory, reasoned with her persecutors for the space of 
 two hours; but the gentle breathings of her pure 
 spirit fell unheeded upon their ears, and again they 
 left her, having pressed by every possible entreaty, 
 flattery, and menace, the recantation of her declara- 
 tions, which, even as the only means of preserving her 
 life, she still steadily refused. 
 
 Anne Askew was sentenced to the stake. Queen 
 Katnarine was powerless to aid her generous friend, 
 though cut to the heart at her cruel fate. It was, 
 alas ! at that time not improbable she might herself, 
 at no distant period, experience a reverse as fatal, and 
 it also behoved her to be cautious how she expressed 
 even interest in one whom that verv circumstance
 
 ANNE ASKEW. 101 
 
 was likely to subject to still further and more pro- 
 longed torment. Several other professors of the 
 reformed faith shared the sentence of Anne ; her 
 tutor, John Lascelles, among the number. To this 
 gentleman she addressed almost the last letter she 
 wrote, justifying herself from the charge which had 
 gone abroad, that she had yielded to her tormentors ; 
 and she composed a general address to the people 
 also, expressing the same denial. A confession of 
 her faith, with an attestation of innocence, was 
 also drawn up in her last moments, and she 
 concluded it with a prayer for perseverance, 
 and fortitude, in the performance of her duty, 
 as well as for the pardon and conversion of her 
 enemies. 
 
 Before fire was put to the pile, a last attempt 
 was made to induce her to recant ; but averting 
 her gaze from the paper containing the king's 
 pardon, she replied, firmly but gently, "I come not 
 hither to deny my Lord and Master." We can 
 easily believe the assertion of one of the witnesses 
 of her martyrdom, " that she had at this moment 
 an angel's countenance," like to the face of holy 
 Stephen in the same dreadful hoiir. Her fearless 
 conduct strengthened the courage of her fellow- 
 sufferers, for persecution is the soil on which the 
 truth grows best ; and the biting winds and terrible 
 storms of perilous trial make the faithful pilgrim 
 enwrap himself closer in the garb of faith, which
 
 102 DOMESTIC IIEROINES. 
 
 he is too often tempted to throw aside when beamed 
 upon by the treacherous sunshine of the world's 
 favours. 
 
 It is persecution which 
 
 " drags the martyr into fame, 
 And chases him to heaven." 
 But while 
 
 " we execrate in deed 
 The tyranny which doomed them to the fire," 
 
 let us not "give the glorious sufferers little praise." 
 Their glory is a reflected one, of His favour which 
 made them " more than conquerors ;" but their claim 
 upon the honour and gratitude of all ages, is no less 
 durable and deep. For, as Jean-Paul Richter observes, 
 " To die for truth is not to die for one's country, but 
 to die for the world. Truth, like the Yenus de' Medici, 
 will pass down in thirty fragments to posterity ; but 
 posterity will collect and recompose them. Then also 
 thy temple, O Eternal Truth ! that now stands half 
 below the earth, made hollow by the sepulchres of its 
 witnesses, will raise itself in the total majesty of its 
 proportions, and will stand monumental granite, and 
 every pillar on which it rests, will be fixed in the 
 grave of a martyr." If, therefore, it should ever 
 happen that in the inscrutable counsels of Heaven, an 
 age of bigotry and fiery trial should again revisit 
 earth, let none doubt but that, whenever called upon 
 to confront the tyranny of Antichrist, whenever the 
 burning element of religious strife shall be enkindled,
 
 AN\E ASKEW. 103 
 
 the same spirit which in Anne Askew quenched 
 the violence of fire, will still support the saints of 
 God ; who, like those of old, resisting the tyranny of 
 the Babylonian king, shall find One who walks with 
 them in the flame, and preserves them unscathed in 
 the conflagration !
 
 " True Religion 
 
 Is always mild, propitious, and humble ; 
 Plays not the tyrant, plants no faith in blood, 
 Nor bears destruction on her chariot-wheels ; 
 But stoops to polish, succour, and redress, 
 And builds her grandeur on the public good."
 
 $eanm 
 
 BORN 1523. DIED 1572. 
 
 THE name of the heroic queen of Navarre, mother 
 of Henry IV. of France, scarcely appears adapted, at 
 first sight, to domestic annals ; yet a perusal of her 
 history will show that she is propei'ly entitled to 
 mention in these records. To very many queenly 
 attributes, she united self-denial, patience, and resig- 
 nation ; her sustained energy declared itself at an age 
 when youth generally obscures perception, yet proved 
 equally potent in shaking off the trammels of elevated 
 position. Judicious in the selection of a path of 
 rectitude, her uncompromising fidelity to truth and 
 religion, even against the hardest of all temptations, 
 the influences of home, was only equalled by her 
 tenderness in the relations of wife and mother ; such 
 qualities, therefore, warrant our recognition, among 
 the heroic traits of domestic life, of the manifold
 
 108 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 virtues which illustrated the foster-mother of the 
 Reformation. 
 
 Jeanne d'Albret was born in the palace of Fon- 
 tainebleau, being the daughter of Margaret d'An- 
 gouleme, the celebrated sister of Francis I. and 
 Henry, king of Navarre. Her birth had been 
 anxiously anticipated by her royal uncle, to whose 
 care the infant heiress of Navarre and Beam was 
 committed at a very early period. The castle of 
 Plessis-les-Tours was appropriated to her abode, and 
 in this retirement the princess received an education, 
 the excellence of which may be easily estimated by 
 her subsequent qualifications and conduct. 
 
 Jeanne appears to have very soon asserted that 
 independence of mind which formed her pre-eminent 
 characteristic. She was easily excited against weak- 
 ness or indecision, among her companions, and 
 demonstrated her own superiority to them, by a 
 decided will. From the first, it was a fruitless 
 endeavour to obtain her concurrence, or submission, 
 as to any measure which she felt cf uoubtful issue ; 
 and this principle, as she grew older, developed itself 
 in impatience of the restraint she experienced, sepa- 
 rated from her mother, and shut up in a fortress, 
 invested by her with all the horrors of a prison. 
 " This abode," says the Bearnois historian, " proved 
 very wearisome to our princess, so that her chamber 
 often echoed with her lamentations, and the air with 
 her sighs, while she gave a loose rein to her sorrow.
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 109 
 
 The lustre of her complexion, for she was one of 
 the fairest princesses of Europe, was marred by the 
 abundance of her tears : her hair floated negligently 
 on her shoulders, and her lips remained without 
 smiles." This melancholy picture was the result of 
 the king of France's fear lest his niece should be 
 given in marriage by her father, to Philip of Spain ; 
 but at length, being touched by the captive's grief, 
 Francis determined to bestow her hand elsewhere, 
 without consulting her parents, and thus put it out 
 of their power to effect an alliance, as hateful to him, 
 as disagreeable to herself. 
 
 Although this plan promised her escape, it was far 
 from being one which Jeanne approved. The duke of 
 Cleves, the husband selected by her uncle, was young, 
 handsome, and accomplished ; but he proved as per- 
 sonally distasteful to her, as political reasons rendered 
 him to the king of Navarre, and though a child of 
 but twelve years old, she determined never voluntarily 
 to receive his addresses. 
 
 Marguerite of Navarre, if at first inclined to resent 
 her brother's sudden change in his declared intentions 
 to unite his son, the duke of Orleans, with his young 
 cousin, seems to have become afterwards reconciled to 
 the proposed match. She devoted herself to procure 
 her husband's approbation, and next, a yet more 
 difficult task, to obtain their daughter's acquiescence 
 to the alliance. Jeanne declared, "that she deemed 
 it uo advantage to leave France, and her own heritage
 
 110 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 of Beam, to espouse a duke of Cleves ;" that she should 
 "die if the project were persisted in;" until, finding 
 entreaty and argument alike useless in averting the 
 betrothal, she adopted the very original method, when 
 her youth is considered, of composing a protest against 
 it, which, from its curiosity, we deem it worth while 
 to insert. 
 
 "I, Jeanne de Navarre, persisting in the protestations I have 
 already made, do hereby again affirm and protest by these pre- 
 sents, that the marriage, which it is desired to contract between 
 the duke of Cleves and myself, is against my will ; that I have 
 never consented to it, nor will consent ; and that all I may say 
 and do hereafter, by which it may be attempted to prove that I 
 have given my consent, will be forcibly extorted against my will 
 and desire, from my dread of the king, of the king my father, and 
 of the queen my mother, who has threatened to have me 
 whipped by the baillive of Caen, my governess. By command 
 of the queen my mother, my said governess has also several 
 times declared that if I do not all in regard to this marriage 
 which the king wishes ; and if I did not give my consent, I 
 should be punished so severely as to occasion my death ; and that, 
 by refusing, I might be the cause of the total ruin and destruction 
 of my father, my mother, and of their house, the which has in 
 spired me with such fear and dread, even to be the cause of the 
 ruin of my said father and mother, that I know not to whom t< 
 have recourse, excepting to God, seeing that my father and my 
 mother abandon me, who both well know what I have said to 
 them, that never can I love the duke of Cleves, and that I will 
 not have him. Therefore, I protest beforehand, if it happens 
 that I am affianced, or married to the said duke of Cleves, in 
 any way or manner, it will be against my heart, and in defiance 
 of my will ; and that he shall never become my husband, nor 
 will I ever hold and regard him as such, and that my marriage 
 shall be reputed null and void. In testimony of which, I appeal 
 to God and yourselves, as witnesses of this my declaration that
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. Ill 
 
 you are about to sign with me, admonishing each of you to 
 remember the compulsion, violence, and constraint employed 
 against me upon the matter of this said marriage. 
 
 (Signed) "JEANNE DE NAVARBE, 
 
 "J. D'AEROS, 
 
 "FRANCES NAVARRO, 
 " ARNAULD DUQUESSE." 
 
 Although this document is said to have been both 
 dictated and written by the princess, it seems pro- 
 bable she was assured of her father's secret appro- 
 bation of her rebellion, if not actually aided by his 
 advice in the course she pursued. Some deeper reason 
 for this determined resistance appears to have existed 
 than the mere contumacy of a child ; though, bearing 
 in mind Jeanne's subsequent conduct, it is quite 
 possible that an antipathy might at this early period 
 have been engendered, so decided as to justify her 
 discbedience, where the happiness of her whole life 
 was at stake. Had the duke been a Roman Catholic, 
 we might have imagined religious scruples had some 
 influence ; but he, like Marguerite of Navarre, pro- 
 fessed the tenets of the reformed faith. Jeanne her- 
 self had been brought up a Romanist ; but we confess 
 it seems to us possible she had long privately deter- 
 mined to profess the religion of her mother whenever 
 opportunity offered. In any case, religion does not 
 seem to have entered into her objections, nor can the 
 nature of them, beyond the personal dislike she 
 avowed, be determined. 
 
 Finding the king treated her opposition as childish,
 
 112 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 and insisted upon the immediate accomplishment of 
 her public betrothal, Jeanne calmly prepared to 
 accompany her mother to Chatellerault, contenting 
 herself with concocting a second memorial, which, 
 like the first, was properly witnessed, and left in 
 safe custody until it should be required. This paper 
 similarly declared that only under violence would the 
 "pretended betrothal" take place, and that she hoped, 
 " by God's help," the present document would one day 
 avail her " to set aside such compulsory nuptials." 
 
 Far from being dazzled by the splendour and im- 
 portance which invested her upon her arrival, or worn 
 out by the commands and persuasions she met on all 
 sides, the unwilling bride persevered up to the last 
 moment in the opposition she had so boldly com- 
 menced. The marriage ceremony was, however, de- 
 spite all, performed ; nor did the refusal voluntarily 
 to walk to the altar, avail, when, complaining of 
 indisposition and the weight of her ornaments, the 
 childish figure remained immovable, thereby exciting 
 the great vexation of the French monarch. "The 
 bride," says Brantome, " being led to church, covered 
 with gold and jewels, sunk under the weight of her 
 robes. Francis, observing her unable to proceed, 
 commanded the constable of Montmorenci to bear 
 her in his arms." In this manner she reached the 
 chapel. A grand ball, banquets, jousts, and pageants, 
 followed the ceremony ; such brilliancy characterizing 
 all, that the festivities were talked of, as the most
 
 Jeanne d'Albert refusing to walk to the altar. 
 
 P. 112.
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 113 
 
 memorable event of the time. " Les noces salees " 
 (so called from the salt-tax, which was levied by the 
 Crown to liquidate the expenses contracted in their 
 celebration) were signalized by tournaments and 
 pageants, as well during the night as day, for the 
 space of more than a week. " Lists were constructed, 
 in which the joustings continued by torchlight, a 
 thing never before heard of in France." When these 
 amusements were finished, the duke of Cleves paid 
 his adieux to his young duchess, and resigning her 
 to the custody of her mother, " until such time as she 
 should have attained suitable years to fulfil the con- 
 jugal engagements she had contracted," departed to 
 prosecute the war against the emperor, while Jeanne 
 accompanied her parents to Pau, in Beam, the capital 
 of their kingdom. 
 
 Whether or no her daughter's sentiments had been 
 hitherto uninfluenced by Marguerite of Navarre, it 
 is certain she soon exhibited a decided leaning to the 
 Lutheran church. During the happy period of her 
 retreat with the natural protectors of her girlhood, 
 she daily conversed with the reformers, then refugees 
 in Beam, and studied the Scriptures with her theo- 
 logical preceptors, as well as under the guidance of 
 her mother. The teaching of the latter corrected the 
 natural failings of her temper and disposition ; nor did 
 the lessons she then received, aided by the example 
 of that accomplished princess, the patroness of re- 
 finement and learning, the friaud of all who were 
 I
 
 114 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 destitute and oppressed, ever lose their influence over 
 her mind. 
 
 It was destined that the marriage, so hateful to the 
 young heiress of Navarre, should never be concluded. 
 After a terrible fright, from the arrival of Cardinal du 
 Bellay to conduct her to meet her bridegroom at 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, and her performance of a part of the 
 journey in accordance with nothing short of absolute 
 necessity, she had the happiness to receive tidings, on 
 reaching the city of Soissons, which set further appre- 
 hensions at rest. In the middle of the night a messenger 
 arrived, with instructions from the king of France, 
 to put a termination to the inauspicious nuptials he 
 had so warmly set on foot. The abject concessions of 
 the intended bridegroom to the emperor of Germany, 
 had so disgusted Francis, that he swore no vassal of 
 that empire " should receive investiture of a fief ap- 
 pertaining to the French crown ; " and he desired his 
 niece might be forthwith taken to Fontainebleau, 
 to remain under the protection of the queen of 
 France, until she should be pronounced, by the voice 
 of Rome, free to bestow her hand and her heritage 
 elsewhere. 
 
 This was accomplished with but little delay. The 
 efforts of the king were now as vehement to annul, as 
 they had formerly been to bind, and as the duke of 
 Cleves warmly seconded the endeavour to release him- 
 self from what must have been a very unpromising 
 engagement, no difficulty arose, and the princess was
 
 JEANNE D'ALBEET. 115 
 
 left at liberty to form another more in accordance with 
 her inclinations. 
 
 Shortly after this period, Francis I. died, and 
 Henry II. ascended the throne, with Catharine de 
 Medici, a princess against whom Jeanne d' Alb ret was 
 destined to wage a life-long contest. Upon these 
 events, the latter retired to Beam, and remained in 
 attendance upon her mother, to whom she was ten- 
 derly attached, and whose enfeebled health seemed at 
 this time to present some alarming indications, which 
 she did not long after survive, until summoned again 
 to court some months after. 
 
 The fact was, lovers were coming from far and near 
 in the hope of securing the hand of Jeanne, and 
 among them Philip of Spain, now that he had lost 
 his first consort, again urged pretensions, which were 
 as repugnant to the young king Henry II. as they had 
 been to his father. She was, therefore, desired to repair 
 without delay to Fontainebleau, where, as it proved, an 
 admirer awaited her, whose addresses were destined 
 to be fatally successful. 
 
 At Moulins, in the October of the year 1548, Jeanne 
 d'Albret was a second time married, to Antoine de 
 Bourbon, duke de Vend6me. " No two characters " 
 (says the authoress of some interesting volumes, re- 
 cently published,* upon the life of our heroine) " could 
 present a greater contrast than those of Duke Antoine 
 and his consort ; the duchess, noble-minded, unselfish, 
 * Miss Freer, " Life of Jeanne d'Albret." 
 
 I 2
 
 116 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 and acting always from principle, however great the 
 pain of self-denial ; Antoine, gay, luxurious, ever 
 ready to make compromise with conscience, unstable, 
 and passionate. While the duke feasted royally 
 with his boon companions, Jeanne, who inherited 
 the literary tastes of her mother, laying aside the 
 externals of her rank, devoted herself to the study 
 of philosophy, theology, and history. The religious 
 questions of the day topics so hotly debated and as- 
 sailed with scepticism so impious occupied much of her 
 leisure. Jeanne weighed and discussed these opinions 
 with fearless independence ; her mind partook of the 
 severe tone which distinguished that of her grand- 
 mother, Louise de Savoye, and at this period of her 
 history, like that celebrated princess, it is to be feared 
 that the duchess de Vendome viewed the divisions 
 agitating the Church, more as curious speculations for 
 the student and politician, than as subjects of vital 
 import, in the elucidation of which the well-being of 
 all was involved. The duke's dissipated habits, and 
 the familiarity to which he condescended, were very 
 displeasing to his consort, and had the effect of in- 
 creasing the dignified reserve of her manner. Yet 
 Jeanne was tenderly attached to her husband, and 
 had he possessed wisdom enoxigh to be guided by her 
 penetration, his career might have been as prosperous 
 as it proved the reverse." 
 
 During the first five years of her union, Jeanne 
 became the mother of two sons; but they both perished
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 117 
 
 during infancy. The first, from the circumstance of his 
 having been confided to the care of Jeanne's former 
 governess, now become old and rheumatic, died from 
 the effect of the stifling heat which she kept up in 
 her apartments ; and the second from the carelessness of 
 a nurse. In the latter case, the nurse and a gentleman 
 of Henry of Navarre's household were playing with 
 the infant prince, throwing him backwards and for- 
 wards from one to the other, when they carelessly 
 permitted him to escape their grasp, and he fell on 
 the marble steps, fracturing a rib, from which injury 
 he died within a few days. 
 
 The father of the duchess, who had greeted the 
 child with the greatest joy, as the future heir of his 
 kingdom, reproached Jeanne so bitterly when this 
 second misfortune took place, that the poor mother 
 half forgot her grief, in horror at the blame he 
 appeared to attach to her, as a neglectful protector 
 of her children's lives. To pacify him, it was pro- 
 mised she should repair to Pau whenever another 
 child was born, so that her father might remove 
 the entire management of the infant, from its birth, 
 from one he considered unfit to fulfil her maternal 
 duties. Poor Jeanne submitted to his conditions, 
 though she thought them unjust and unmerited : she 
 parted with her father in grief and anger ; for Henry 
 not only had thrown the entire blame of all upon her 
 self, but declared his intention of marrying again, should 
 a healthy grandson not soon make his appearance.
 
 113 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 During some months, the duchess de Yendome 
 lived in camp with her husband; and she proved 
 herself, upon several occasions, a worthy and clear- 
 sighted adviser. At length, when again expecting 
 to become a mother, she fulfilled her promise by 
 journeying to. Pau, and, quitting Picardy, arrived 
 there a fortnight and four days after, travelling in 
 a litter drawn by mules. The journey was a difficult 
 one ; but the solicitude and care of the king, her 
 father, re-established her strength, and she was soon 
 able to appear in public, charming thereby her future 
 subjects, who were already warmly attached to her. 
 We quote, from the same excellent authority as above, 
 the following account of the somewhat peculiar 
 circumstance attending the birth of the afterwards 
 renowned Henri Quatre. 
 
 " Meantime, Jeanne was not unmindful of the pro- 
 ceedings of her father's ambitious mistress, and of the 
 latter's intrigues to bring forward her son. Jeanne 
 often attempted to penetrate the secret of her father's 
 will, much to the amusement of the king, who seemed 
 to take pleasure in increasing her curiosity and anxiety 
 on the subject. One day, the duchess, being alone 
 with her father in his cabinet, made some allusion to 
 the subject which so greatly occupied her thoughts, 
 expressing a desire to be informed what the king's 
 testamentary injunctions were respecting his son. 
 Henry rose, and opening a coffer, took therefrom a 
 small gold box, having a chain attached to suspend
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 119 
 
 it from the neck, and showing it to the duchess, he 
 said, with a smile, ' Ma fille, you see this box : well, 
 it shall be your own, with my last will, which it con- 
 tains, provided that, when the pains of labour assail 
 you, you will sing me a Gascon or a Bearnois song. 
 I do not want a peevish girl or a drivelling boy ! ' 
 The duchess laughed, but accepted the proposal. The 
 king, thereupon, placed an old and faithful valet-de- 
 chambre, named Cotin, in the princess's wardrobe- 
 chamber, ordering him to bring instant intelligence 
 of the first symptoms of indisposition felt by his 
 daughter. Early on the morning of the 13th of 
 December, between the hours of one and two o'clock, 
 the duchess de Vendome felt that her delivery was at 
 hand. Faithful to her engagement, she ordered that 
 Cotin might be informed, and sent with a summons to 
 King Henry. The king rose in haste, and proceeded 
 to visit his daughter. When Jeanne heard her father's 
 step approach, she commenced in a firm and clear 
 voice the Bearnoise chanson, ' Notre Dame du bout 
 du pont, aidez-moi a cette heure.' This ditty was 
 popular throughout Beam ; the Virgin invoked as 
 1 Notre Dame du bout du pont,' being a miraculous 
 image honoured as a Lucina, by the Bearnoise matrons, 
 and whose chapel was built at the extremity of the 
 bridge crossing the river Gave, in the town of Pau. 
 Jeanne, it is recorded, bravely sang on, omitting not 
 one of the numberless verses of the song. She had 
 scarcely made an end, when her son was born the
 
 120 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 future hero of Coutras and d'Arques Henry IV., of 
 illustrious memory. . . . Transported with joy, King 
 Henry received the babe," and when it was in his 
 arms, " he approached the duchess, and, placing the gold 
 box in her hand, exclaimed, ' There, that is thine own, 
 daughter ; but,' continued the king, pointing to the 
 infant, ' this is mine ! ' It is stated, however, that 
 Henry mischievously withheld from the duchess the 
 key of the golden box ; therefore, though she possessed 
 the much-desired document, Jeanne, being still tanta- 
 lized by her desire to peruse it, felt much disconcerted 
 at the king's method of evading her curiosity." 
 
 The king of Navarre lived but two years after the 
 birth of the infant he had so delightedly welcomed 
 as his future heir. He died of an epidemic, whilst 
 "organizing a military expedition," intended to 
 attempt the recovery of his lost possessions, and 
 Jeanne became queen of Navarre. The accession 
 to her new dignity had no power to silence the 
 voice of nature and affection in her heart, and deeply 
 did she mourn his loss, who, next to her mother, 
 had possessed the greater portion of its earnest devo- 
 tion. 
 
 Very different was it with the consort of the new 
 sovereign, Antoine, now, by Jeanne's desire, saluted 
 as king of Navarre in the camp at Estree-le-Pont. 
 She foresaw the title only ushered in a legion of 
 difficulties and dangers ; already did her foresight 
 anticipate the policy of her enemies, and provide
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 121 
 
 means of controverting them ; he, on the contrary, 
 charmed with the glare of royalty, was as excited and 
 busy as a child with a new toy. Jeanne had already 
 discovered his deficiencies for the station he would 
 fain have filled, and she very soon resolved nothing 
 should induce her to sacrifice the rights committed to 
 her care ; that she would reign singly, while her will 
 should be unquestionable. Even on the threshold of 
 her new dignity, she had a difficult task to preserve 
 it : only her moderation and prudence could have 
 arranged matters so that, in lieu of ceding their new- 
 sovereignty to the crown of France, as Antoine had 
 nearly done, she was crowned with him in the hall of 
 the castle of Pau, simply, and with no show or mag- 
 nificence, but welcomed by her subjects with shouts 
 of acclamation and attachment. 
 
 We have no space to enter upon the history of 
 Jeanne's reign, marked as was her conduct by a mix- 
 ture of address and generosity, which, excites our 
 fullest admiration and interest. Neither do we purpose 
 discussing the subject of the Reformation, which 
 progressed so favourably under the auspices of the 
 queen. Suffice it to say that Antoine, who at first had, 
 by his mistaken zeal and want of tact, done much 
 disservice to the sect he professed to have joined, 
 renounced ultimately, and actually persecuted its 
 members ; while Jeanne, who had in the commence- 
 ment questioned and doubted, refusing, with her dis- 
 tinguishing characteristic, to believe anything she had
 
 122 DOMESTIC HEROIXES. 
 
 not for herself examined, became a humble votary of 
 that faith which alone could console her, under what 
 certainly was anything but a life of ease or happiness. 
 Disappointed to the utmost in her marriage (for the 
 king of Navarre, weak, incompetent, and vacillating 
 as he was, had yet graver faults with which to agonize 
 the refined sensibility of his unhappy wife), she turned 
 with redoubled fervour to the lessons of the Reformers, 
 and at length determined publicly to avow the reli- 
 gious opinions she had long secretly nourished. At 
 this period a marriage was proposed between Jeanne's 
 little daughter Catherine, then four years old, and 
 Henry, duke d'Anjou, the proposition coming from 
 Catharine de Medici, his mother, whom Jeanne had 
 long and justly distrusted. The king of Navarre had, 
 since the death of the young king, Francis II., 
 husband of Mary Stuart, divided with Catharine the 
 regency of France. The latter had saved his life by 
 timely warning, when the Guises had worked up the 
 helpless young king to consent to and aid Antoine's 
 murder, while paying him a visit of ceremony ; but 
 Jeanne saw through the wily queen-mother's policy, 
 and trusted her not the more for doing a service, 
 which also prevented her own ambitious views upon 
 the government from being annihilated. It suited 
 Catharine's projects at this time to invite the queen 
 ot Xavarre to Paris. Her firmness of character was 
 needed to supply her husband's utter want of principle ; 
 and this, Jeanne saw : the cause of the Reformed
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 123 
 
 faith, too, exacted her personal assistance : thus, 
 though reluctantly, she proceeded to obey the queen- 
 regent's behest, leaving her home in the early autumn 
 of the year 1561. She little expected how many and 
 terrible would be her regrets before she should again 
 behold the tranquil scene of her own private studies, 
 and enjoy the benefits she lavished upon those around 
 her. 
 
 On arriving at Paris, Jeanne declined Queen Catha- 
 rine's urgent invitation to accept of apartments in the 
 Louvre, and took up her residence at the Hotel de 
 Conde". Nothing but distress awaited her, and very 
 speedily her very heart was wrung by the conduct of 
 her husband. She was branded as a heretic ; a 
 divorce was spoken of between them, and he even 
 threatened to deprive her of her children, whilst his 
 attentions to Mdlle. de Rouet formed the common sub- 
 ject of remark. Jeanne was represented to him " as 
 the sole obstacle to his aggrandisement. When 
 Catharine issued a command, requiring all the ladies 
 of the court to attend mass, and to forbear from, 
 introducing theological discussions into their private 
 converse, the king of Navarre, to demonstrate that he 
 lived not under the dominion of his consort, insisted 
 that Jeanne should likewise obey the same mandate. 
 The volatile and inconsistent Antoine even ventured 
 to try compulsion ; and it is recorded, that one day, 
 when Jeanne was about to step into her litter to 
 attend the precke of one of the ministers, Antoine
 
 124 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 presented himself, and taking the queen by the hand, 
 he led her back to her apartments, and commanded 
 the litter to be dismissed. He next proceeded to 
 signify his express commands that she should no 
 more attend the services of the Calvinist ministers ; 
 but outwardly conform in all things to the worship 
 of the Roman Catholic church. Jeanne coldly 
 replied, ' that it was not her purpose to barter 
 her immortal soul for territorial aggrandisement, and 
 that she would not be present at mass, or at any 
 ceremony of the Romish church whatever.' " 
 
 Antoine followed up this attack by threatening her 
 to sue for a divorce, if she refused obedience to his 
 commands ; and his intention to despoil her of the 
 inheritance of her ancestors ! After this discovery 
 of the total worthlessness of her husband, Jeanne 
 seems to have given up all hope of happiness with 
 him ; and she urged, in passionate terms, her right to 
 retire to Beam, accompanied by her two children ; but 
 this she was not permitted to do. The persecution 
 and violence with which she was treated by Antoine, 
 at length so aroused her hitherto gentle spirit, that 
 we find her declining " to hold any communication 
 with him on the subject of religion or politics, in 
 which matters they so materially differed." When, 
 at the same time, she was urged (by Catharine de 
 Medici) to attend mass, as a means of not only recon- 
 ciling herself with her husband, but of retaining the 
 principality of Beam for her son, "Madame," exclaimed
 
 JEANNE D'ALBUET. 125 
 
 the queen of Navarre with passionate vehemence, 
 " if I at this very moment held my son and all the 
 kingdoms of the world together in my grasp, I would 
 hurl them to the bottom of the sea, rather than peril 
 the salvation of my soul." 
 
 Upon the departure of the court to Fontainebleau, 
 whither the queen-mother had hurried the youthful 
 Charles on the alarm of her own life being in danger, 
 Jeanne again urged the anxious desire she experienced 
 to be allowed to depart. Plots, however, of the direst 
 nature were in progress against her. She was pointed 
 out as a fair mark for the assassin's pistol-shot ; and 
 Antoine, when consulted relative to a plan for her 
 imprisonment, " gave his full and voluntary consent to 
 the scheme." Upon being informed of this proceed- 
 ing, Jeanne displayed little grief and less surprise ; 
 " but," she writes mournfully some years after the 
 event took place, " from that moment I closed my 
 heart for ever against the affection which I still che- 
 rished for my husband, and devoted its every impulse 
 to perform my duty." 
 
 To the prince of Conde, Antoine's brother, and ever 
 a warm friend of Queen Jeanne, the latter confided 
 the danger which menaced her. The result was that 
 the Huguenots of the capital assembled about the 
 hotel she occupied, and prepared with enthusiasm to 
 protect her from evil. After this public maik of 
 popularity, it was nearly hopeless to arrest Jeanne in 
 Paris; she was therefore permitted to depart, the
 
 12G DOMESTIC HEKOIXES. 
 
 design being to carry out the plan of capture at Ven- 
 d6me, where she would stop on her journey. Before 
 leaving Paris, the poor queen went to bid farewell to 
 her son, who remained by his father's direction at 
 St. Germain. Their parting was a melancholy one. 
 Taking him in her arms, she besought him " never to 
 forget her counsels, amidst the distractions of a 
 court ;" then, drying her tears, she " very earnestly 
 and affectionately forbade him to attend mass, adding 
 thereto a threat, that if the prince disobeyed her com- 
 mand, she would disinherit him, and refuse longer to 
 own him for her son." 
 
 The following day Jeanne and Antoine parted, 
 never to meet again. 
 
 Very narrowly did the deserted wife escape the 
 intended arrest at Vendome ; and commands followed 
 up the failure of that plan, from Antoine himself, to 
 seize the queen, and bring her back to Paris, directing 
 that on no account should she be suffered to cross the 
 frontier into Beam. On the journey she was taken 
 ill, and had very nearly been made prisoner when 
 lying on a sick-bed ; but in spite of all the dangers 
 that beset her, she effected her escape, and was at 
 length again in safety within her own capital. 
 
 After this Jeanne did not for some time venture 
 out of the sphere of her own territory. " Her life," 
 says her biographer, "now took a new and higher 
 development. From this period, her career of fame 
 commences. The difficulties which she had to en-
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 127 
 
 counter were sufficient to daunt and paralyze a spirit 
 undaunted even as her own. When she returned to 
 assume the government of her hereditary principality, 
 Jeanne possessed not a single friend from whom she 
 could seek succour and counsel. Her husband had 
 become her bitter persecutor, and she was deprived 
 of her son. Catharine de Medici now treated her 
 with disdain, and repeatedly sent word that if 
 she wished to retain the favour of King Charles, 
 she must conform to the religion recognised at 
 court. The steady perseverance shown by Jeanne 
 in the faith which she had deliberately accepted, 
 became a tacit reproach to Catharine, for her 
 own convenient latitude in religious matters. 
 The queen -regent abhorred a character at once 
 consistent and open; it was an anomaly she could 
 uot fathom, but which, nevertheless, she persecuted 
 with rancour. Queen Jeanne's frankness of speech 
 disconcerted the astute Catharine ; and sentiments 
 which the queen would, willingly, and intended to 
 veil amid the flowery mazes of rhetoric, were fre- 
 quently brought to a premature revelation by some 
 apt comment or word from the lips of the queen of 
 Navarre." 
 
 Jeanne's position was now a critical one. The 
 pope threatened her kingdom with the horrors of 
 an interdict, and the terrible Inquisition cited her 
 to appear before it. The warring sentiments of her 
 subjects, as to religion, rendered it a difh'cuit matter
 
 128 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 to legislate, so as to give satisfaction without com- 
 promising principle ; while, to add to her griefs, the 
 young Henry was attacked by violent small-pox, and 
 she was unable to comply with his entreaties for his 
 mother's presence, though she urged with all the argu- 
 ments and eloquence of which she was mistress, that 
 he should be given back to her care. Jeanne now 
 published a patent, permitting the free exercise of the 
 reformed faith throughout her dominions. She caused 
 Beam to be strongly fortified, and, despite the fear of 
 her unworthy husband's anger, she commanded that 
 his envoy, perfidiously sent to destroy her power and 
 persecute herself, should be cast into prison. " By 
 this act," said the queen, " I asserted the power that 
 God has given me over my own subjects, but which 
 I once ceded to my husband, in deference to the 
 obedience which God commands wives to show 
 towards their husbands. But when I perceived that, 
 by this concession, the glory of God and the welfare 
 of my people were outraged, I without hesitation 
 exercised my royal rights." Shortly after, tidings 
 were brought to Pau that its sovereign was released 
 from this unnatural persecution and warfare with one 
 who should have proved her truest friend and coun- 
 sellor. Antoine de Bourbon was wounded at the 
 siege of Rouen, and Jeanne more than guessed the 
 fatal shot to have " proceeded from a hand which 
 Antoine had recently grasped in friendship. From 
 the very earliest days of her widowhood, the queen
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 129 
 
 protested that she would never more enter into the 
 bonds of matrimony. Her life had been embittered 
 by Antoine's neglect, her power as a sovereign princess 
 curtailed, and her fine and noble spirit, so susceptible 
 of God in its aspirations, had been wounded, and its 
 womanly impulses deadened. Outraged and disap- 
 pointed in her hopes of domestic happiness, Jeanne, 
 concentrating those admirable talents with which 
 nature had endowed her, became the dauntless and 
 politic princess, against whose genius such a character 
 as that of Antoine de Bourbon became helpless as a 
 straw tossed on the waves of the ocean." * 
 
 At the time of her husband's death, Jeanne had 
 reached her thirty-fourth year ; ten more, and she had 
 ceased to exist. With the remainder of her life we 
 have obviously little to do. Her career after this 
 period became too political, she was too completely 
 public property to have leisure for those silent fire- 
 side virtues which otherwise would have marked her 
 entire history. That she still possessed them is 
 proved by many little anecdotes, which creep out 
 from the details of statesmanship and prowess of 
 which her biography is composed ; but as she ever 
 after remained (despite many attempts to induce her 
 to ally herself in marriage with neighbouring powers) 
 a widow, and was deprived of the custody of her son, 
 her domestic tenderness had only scope to expend 
 itself in the management of her only daughter's 
 
 * Miss Fr.er. 
 
 X
 
 130 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 education, and in the excellent letters of advice to 
 the young Henry, by which she seconded her cou- 
 rageous maintenance of his rights, in the heritage 
 she trusted to bequeath to him. An active life was, 
 indeed, forced upon her. 
 
 Jeanne's devotion to the cause of the Reformation 
 was unwavering and consistent. She succeeded ulti- 
 mately after great personal suffering, and peril to 
 her position as queen of a little principality dependent 
 on the French king, its suzerain, with whom she was 
 for many years at utter variance in abolishing popery 
 throughout her dominions. In this enterprise she set 
 at defiance the power of the pope and the Inquisition, 
 and, though treachery was busy near her, she managed 
 to escape all plots to entrap herself and her children 
 into the power of that fearful tribunal in Spain ; as 
 well as to avoid the mesh of unpopularity in which 
 the nature of intestine discords, as well as foreign 
 warfare, generally involves a ruler. Deeply was 
 Jeanne enshrined in the hearts of her people ; they 
 knew her noble nature, and that her highest ambition 
 was indeed " a mission of reconciliation and peace to 
 all." The aid and countenance of Elizabeth of England 
 was a source of consolation to Jeanne d'Albret ; the 
 greatest cordiality subsisted between the two queens. 
 Once it was agitated that the English sovereign 
 should be united to the prince of Navarre ; but 
 Jeanne had, doubtless, too good sense to take part 
 in this, or desire it in her heart, while Elizabeth
 
 JEANNE D'ALBKET. 131 
 
 seems to have paid scarcely any attention to the 
 proposition. One of Jeanne's most ardent desires 
 was to see the New Testament circulated among her 
 subjects ; and this, after having caused it to be trans- 
 lated into the Basque dialect, she had the happiness 
 of accomplishing in the April of the year 1571. 
 
 An occurrence about this time, illustrating the 
 union of feminine tenderness and firm endurance 
 characterizing Jeanne, deserves to be commemorated. 
 The valiant La Noue, the Huguenot general, was 
 wounded in the arm at Sainte Gemme, and compelled 
 to relinquish his command and retire to La Eochelle. 
 Notwithstanding all care, the wound mortified, and it 
 was found impossible to save his life without amputa- 
 tion of the injured limb. La Noue, the bravest 
 soldier in the world, preferred death to an existence 
 maimed and disabled. He refused to submit, and 
 news was brought to the queen that, without her 
 assistance, a general would perish, whose loss was as 
 grievous to the army as personally distressing to her- 
 self. The queen, thus summoned, lost no time in 
 seeking the sick-room of La None, feeling that every 
 moment increased the peril he underwent. Trembling 
 with emotion, Jeanne had yet presence of mind to 
 exercise that extraordinary eloquence against which 
 few persons could long remain proof. She urged so 
 earnestly and yet so affectionately the necessity of the 
 operation, that the sufferer, fearful of grieving her by 
 a refusal, half agreed to submit to it. Profiting by 
 K 2
 
 132 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 her momentary advantage, she hastily signalled her 
 physicians to approach. Herself laying bare the arm, 
 and sustaining it while the terrible ordeal was in 
 progress, Jeanne addressed to La None words of such 
 consolation and encouragement, that he never in after- 
 life could recall them without tears of gratitude. The 
 operation was a successful one. In allusion to the 
 arm which Jeanne caused to be made, of metal, to 
 supply the lost limb as far as possible, and enable 
 La None to guide his horse, he was afterwards known 
 by the name of " Bras de Fer." 
 
 Upon the occasion of Charles IX.'s marriage, 
 Catharine de Medici, appearing to forget past dis- 
 sensions, invited Jeanne of Navarre to court. This 
 invitation was refused ; but, despite her determined 
 opposition, the long-agitated union between her son 
 and the daughter of Catharine, Marguerite de Valois, 
 drew Jeanne there ultimately a fatal visit whence 
 she never returned. Up to the very last she remained 
 inflexible in her dislike to this marriage ; and it was 
 only when she found her son join his entreaties for 
 her consent, with those of her closest advisers, that 
 she ceased to oppose it further, with the mournful 
 words, " Helas ! je compte peu d'amis." How re- 
 pugnant this marriage must have been to her mater- 
 nal heart, how deeply she must have foreseen its 
 perils to her beloved child, in a religious as well as 
 domestic point of view, the firmness of her opposition 
 sufficiently proves. Marguerite de Valois, though the
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 133 
 
 loveliest princess of the age, was a rigid papist : she 
 had been disappointed where her heart was given ; 
 already her levity bordered closely upon profligacy, 
 and such a nature, with also such a mother's training, 
 struck terror into the heart of the high-minded and 
 refined queen of Navarre. 
 
 In the hope of yet averting these dreaded nuptial.-?, 
 Jeanne delayed to send for her son for some time 
 after the consent had been obtained, and she had 
 reached Blois. Her mind was distracted by the 
 anxieties she experienced, and when King Charles 
 overruled by his mandate the conditions as to religion, 
 <kc., that Catharine de Medici had endeavoured to 
 make, and the Papal bull (by many suspected to be a 
 forgery) arrived, authorizing the marriage of Mar- 
 guerite and Henry, she summoned the latter with 
 a heavy heart ; thus abandoning every shade of hope 
 for the future. 
 
 Preparations were making in Paris upon the most 
 splendid scale for the marriage, when Jeanne d'Albret 
 entered that city. She took up her residence at the 
 Hotel de Conde, where she had lived during her former 
 visit to the French capital. Here, scarcely more than a 
 week after, she was attacked by sudden illness, and 
 took to her bed, never again to leave it. 
 
 It is believed that Jeanne, in closely attending upon 
 her daughter, when attacked by severe inflammation 
 of the lungs, which threatened her life, accelerated 
 the same disease which had Ions slumbered within
 
 134 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 herself. Violent pains in the chest and difficulty of 
 breathing commenced the disorder, and from the first 
 the symptoms seemed familiar to the sufferer, who 
 expressed her assurance that she should never again 
 be restored to health. Yet, notwithstanding these 
 circumstances, and the discovery of an abscess on the 
 lungs upon examination after her death, so well 
 known was Catharine's hatred to the innocent Jeanne; 
 so common were tragedies of the same nature in the 
 then fearful state of the French metropolis, that many 
 believed the queen of Navarre to have died from the 
 effects of poison ; and the instrument of destruction 
 was declared to have been a pair of gloves, impreg- 
 nated with some drug, so deadly as to immediately 
 accomplish the desired catastrophe. She died in her 
 forty-fourth year, at an age, in many instances, the 
 very prime of life. 
 
 It is recorded that when Henry, himself a renegade 
 from the Protestant faith, counselled the same apos- 
 tasy to his sister, the latter, in declaring her inflexible 
 adhesion to the religion of her youth, added, that it 
 was in no slight degree owing to the " respect she 
 entertained towards the memory of her mother, 
 whose life and actions she held to be inimitable." 
 That calmness in the hour of anticipated dissolution 
 which well-grounded faith can alone impart, was never 
 more exhibited than upon the death-bed of Jeanne 
 d'Albret. Consoling her attendants, she spent her 
 last hours in expressing her submission to God, and
 
 JEANNE D'ALBRET. 135 
 
 in conjuring Madame de Thignouville solemnly to 
 instil the same holy precepts into the mind of her 
 daughter. During the intervals of pain, she devoted 
 herself to prayer, and to earnest attention to portions 
 of Scripture, especially the 14th, 15th, and 16th 
 chapters of St. John's Gospel, which, at her request, 
 her chaplains read aloud. On the morning of 9th 
 June, 1572, she was released without a struggle, and 
 was buried in the cathedral of Yendome, contrary to 
 her express desire that she should repose in the 
 cathedral of Lescar, near Pau, the burial-place of 
 her father and family. It is somewhat remarkably 
 observed, that the spectacle of the large concourse ot 
 Huguenot nobles assembled to do honour to her 
 obsequies, suggested to the implacable Catharine 
 the plot for the " Massacre of St. Bartholomew," 
 occurrent in August of the same year, and which, 
 foreboded by the religious vigilance of the deceased 
 queen, seemed like the signal triumph of bigotry over 
 the victims of truth, now that their protecting spirit 
 had passed away.
 
 " The white man landed ! Need the rest be told ? 
 The New World stretch'd its dusk hand to the Old 
 Each was to each a marvel, and the tie 
 Of wonder wanu'd to better sympathy." 
 
 BYKOJf.
 
 BORN 1594. DIED 1617. 
 
 AT the very Antipodes of scene, yet not of fortune, 
 of education, yet not of birth, when viewed in rela- 
 tion to the character last described, comes now before 
 the reader the striking and pathetic narrative of 
 Pocahontas. 
 
 Deep in the Virginian forests, where the pine, the 
 cypress, and the cedar excluded alike the sun's 
 material rays, and the scarcely less vital warmth 
 of civilization, was cradled one of Nature's truest 
 hearts, whose instincts of humanity, as direct chan- 
 nels, were to induce and interchange influences, 
 blessing, like the mercy to which they belonged, 
 both giver and recipient, and that not individually, 
 but nationally. 
 
 Powhatan, called by his tribe, Emperor of Atta- 
 noughkamouck, ruled over that tract of country
 
 140 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 originally bestowed by Queen Elizabeth upon Sir 
 Walter Raleigh, and named by him "Virginia," in 
 compliment to the royal giver. The celebrated Indian 
 chief was, about the year 1606, at the height of his 
 power ; and it was at this time the inti-epid English 
 officer, Captain John Smith, was taken prisoner, and 
 brought before him to be summarily punished for his 
 efforts to found a British colony in this varied and 
 beautiful province. Whilst exploring the James river, 
 Captain Smith was surprised by a party of Indian 
 warriors ; his intentions were well understood, and 
 the natural fury of his captors excited to the utmost 
 against him. No time was lost ; a council, imme- 
 diately called, decided upon the death of the prisoner ; 
 he was to be bound, his head placed upon a stone, and 
 beaten to death : a horrible sentence they proceeded 
 at once to execute. Yet, in the extremity of his 
 danger, assistance was close at hand. Powhatan's 
 favourite child, the Princess Matoaka, or Pocahontas, 
 a girl of little more than twelve years old, had been 
 present at the council, and heard, with indignation and 
 grief, its result. At the moment when the club of her 
 father was uplifted to strike, she flung herself upon the 
 prostrate form of the victim, thus shielding him at the 
 peril of her own life. One of those sudden revolutions of 
 feelings ensued, to which untaught, as well as educated 
 minds, are subject. The act of courage and pity saved 
 the life of the Englishman. In a few moments he 
 btood unfettered, though he was told he must remain
 
 POCAHONTAS. 141 
 
 for the present an inmate of the Indian chief's wigwam, 
 and give a solemn promise not to attempt escape. 
 
 Subsequent circumstances leave little doubt that the 
 occurrence elicited the first scintillations of womanly 
 tenderness, in the Indian maiden's heart. The slum- 
 bering fire of her age and country, burst into existence, 
 and she grew to love the man she had protected, with 
 all the wild devotion of a nature knowing nothing of 
 deception or constraint. Whether its object perceived 
 the character of the feeling he had inspired, is not 
 known ; but it is probable it became evident to her 
 father, since it is difficult otherwise to account for the 
 short interval of time which elapsed, before Powhatan 
 removed the Englishman from his daughter's sight, by 
 restoring to him his liberty. We may imagine the 
 pang with which the poor girl saw him quit the Indian 
 camp. They were never likely to meet again. 
 
 Two years elapsed. Pocahontas continued the same 
 simple and unsophisticated mode of life. She assisted 
 in the household duties of her father's tent, and seems 
 to have won the affection and regard of all subjected 
 to her influence. She forms, at this period, a sweet 
 and graceful picture ; for we agree with a clever 
 living writer in thinking, " on earth there is nothing so 
 combining loveliness with dignity, as woman when, 
 adorning with her native charms, the sphere of her 
 appropriate duties. Even our corrupt age still reads 
 with delight, the tales of simple and primitive manners; 
 Low Sarah, the great sheikh and patriarch Abraham'*
 
 142 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 wife, made, with her own hands, cakes for the guests, 
 and baked them on the hearth ; how the comely 
 Rebecca, sister of the wealthy Laban, drew water for 
 Eliezer's camels ; how the shepherdess Rachel, daughter 
 of the same Laban, came with her father's sheep to 
 the well, and there met her heaven-directed lover." 
 Yet, however occupied with the womanly cares around 
 her, Powhatan's daughter turned an anxious ear to all 
 conversations connected with the nation to which he 
 belonged, for whom she had dared her father's wrath, 
 and endangered her own life. She watched, with 
 untiring vigilance, the movements of the tribe, and 
 kept herself fully informed upon every expedition 
 likely to menace the English. At length reports 
 came which fanned the latent jealousy of the Indians 
 into fury. The influence of Captain Smith and his 
 people appeared gaining ground with alarming celerity ; 
 his exploits and progress threatened annihilation to 
 the Indian rule, and no time was to be lost in opposing 
 the plans of the intruders by commencing determined 
 hostilities. The first step in the attainment of their 
 object was to regain possession of the bold spirit who 
 was at the head of the enterprise, and it was settled 
 Smith should be entrapped into their hands. 
 
 Pocahontas heard the scheme and determined to 
 frustrate it. She set out on foot through the tangled 
 forest, a distance of more than nine miles, and arrived 
 in the dead of the night at a spot where Smith had 
 taken up his temporary abode, for the purpose of
 
 POCAHONTAS. 143 
 
 meeting Powhatan, and negotiating with him for the 
 supply of provisions. Full of gratitude and admira- 
 tion, he endeavoured to press upon her acceptance 
 some trinkets which, his acquaintance with Indian 
 tastes led him to believe, would be gladly accepted. 
 To his surprise she refused them. "She would at all 
 events take some i-efreshment ?'' and he hastened to 
 spread before her the utmost his resources commanded.. 
 " No ! nothing." It was found useless to attempt to 
 combat her resolve, and Pocahontas departed to 
 retrace her painful and perilous way, full of anxiety, 
 lest her father and his wives should have remarked 
 her absence, and guessed the mission she had under- 
 taken, was to warn their former captive, of the 
 danger he ran of again falling into their hands. 
 
 Pocahontas was equal to more than a single effort 
 in the cause she had embraced. Her attachment 
 to the English gained ground daily; she watched 
 their interests, untiringly, with a natural intelligence 
 sharpened by affection ; protected them in the numerous 
 difficulties which beset them, and averted the effects 
 of her father's enmity from them, by every means in 
 her power. It is not to be supposed that her efforts 
 should have passed unobserved by the tribe to which 
 she belonged. Before long, they excited against her, 
 unbounded wrath in the midds of all, not excluding 
 
 7 O 
 
 her father, who, incensed at length beyond endurance, 
 determined to deprive himself of his favourite daughter, 
 and send her to a relative, the chief of Potomac,
 
 144 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 some distance away. It is believed this step was 
 almost necessitated on the part of Powhatan, who 
 feared his warriors might be induced to punish Poca- 
 hontas summarily, for the attachment to the whites 
 she evinced. She was now a handsome young woman 
 of eighteen, raised by her innate intelligence above the 
 prejudices of her education, and the savage customs of 
 her country ; longing for instruction, and of a nature 
 well qualified to receive the pure light of the Gospel. 
 Her intercourse with the more civilized beings her 
 care had protected, had already produced a moral and 
 intellectual energy towards the truth ; and although 
 the great grief of her life, probably, had passed over 
 her, in the news, communicated about this period, of 
 Captain Smith's death, her y^ung and ardent spirit 
 had been sublimated, rather than crushed by the 
 shock. Captain Argall, who ascended the Potomac 
 with a view to trading with the tribe, saw her, and 
 formed a plan to establish peace through her in- 
 strumentality. He had in his possession a large 
 copper kettle, the brightness of which had struck the 
 fancy of the Indian chief with whom she had been 
 placed. This kettle was the somewhat unworthy bait 
 Argall used to gain his purpose : " If Jopazaws, the 
 Indian chief, would give him Pocahontas, he should 
 receive the kettle in her stead." We should be 
 shocked to relate the offer was accepted, had not 
 the circumstance exercised a favourable effect upon 
 our heroine's fate. Tbe copper kettle, the largest
 
 POCAHOKTAS 145 
 
 precious stone Jopazaws believed he had ever seen 
 was forthwith exchanged for Pocahontas ; Argall 
 conceiving that, once in his power, her father Powhatan 
 would consent to any terms proposed as her ransom. 
 Having received her, Argall lost no time in communi- 
 cating the fact to the Indian father. He had miscal- 
 culated, however. Powhatan offered five hundred 
 bushels of corn as her ransom, but, the proposition being 
 rejected, no second one was made. 
 
 Surrounded now by the English, Pocahontas rapidly 
 imbibed the customs and opinions of the nation she 
 was ultimately to adopt. A young officer, remarkable 
 no less for his piety than courage, named Rolfe, under* 
 took to teach her the English language. The constant 
 opportunities thus afforded him of becoming acquainted 
 with his pupil's graces, as well of mind as person, re- 
 sulted as might have been expected, and Pocahontas 
 received an offer of his hand. 
 
 It is probable that by this period the Indian chief, 
 Powhatan, was becoming wearied of continual warfare. 
 He appears to have received the proposal of Mr. Rolfe 
 with pleasure, and raised no obstacle to his daughter's 
 marriage. Though her heart doubtless still mourned 
 its first passion, yet she accepted her lot, influenced by 
 the reflection that her union would probably prevent 
 further animosity against the colony on the part of the 
 Indians, and such was indeed the case. Peace was 
 established in consequence of it, and lasted for a con- 
 siderable time. 
 
 L
 
 146 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 Pocahontas was married in the presence of several 
 of her relatives, and according to the ceremonies of the 
 Church of England, whose tenets she had by this time 
 embraced. The sight must have been an interesting 
 one : the Indians, with their swarthy countenances 
 and picturesque attire, clustering round the young 
 bridal pair, their features expressive of curiosity. 
 Could the page of the future have been unfolded 
 to their gaze, the eyes of the spectators, from either 
 hemisphere, would have rested upon the heroic and 
 tender girl who stood on the threshold of wifehood, 
 with yet graver observation. She was only destined 
 to enjoy for a brief interval the treasures of instruc- 
 tion just opening upon her, or bask in the sunshine 
 of a husband's love. 
 
 In 1616, about three years after her marriage, she 
 set out upon a visit to England ; and arriving in 
 London, found herself the object of considerable atten- 
 tion, her story having preceded her. There she re- 
 ceived a visit from Captain Smith, the account of 
 whose death had been invented, for some purpose con- 
 nected with the policy of her father, and his tribe. 
 Her surprise at finding him still alive caused her ex- 
 cessive emotion : on his first appearance she was com- 
 pletely overcome, and, turning away, buried her tearful 
 face in her hands. The deceit of her friends may have 
 shaken her system ; indeed, this sudden blow seems 
 fully to account for the death of an apparently robust 
 young woman such as Pocahontas. The cause, how-
 
 POCAHOKTAS. 1-47 
 
 ever mysterious, produced its sad result in the prime 
 of life : she never lived to return to her own land. 
 
 Actuated not less by friendship and gratitude than 
 by a feeling of patriotism, Captain Smith represented, 
 in a memorial to the queen (Anne of Denmark), her 
 services so forcibly as to secure the royal friendship. 
 For a short period she enjoyed this recognition at the 
 hand of one who herself was doomed to survive her 
 but two years, and whose existence was marked by fur 
 less influence of character. It might form a fitting 
 page in the tangled narrative of destiny, this interchange 
 between royal stems, one of which was to die compara- 
 tively unimportant, and the other, of less high origin, 
 accomplish efficient benefit both to herself, and to her 
 country. By a not unusual combination also of events, 
 when the work was done, the author died, young, and 
 with years of future energy fraught with promise 
 unfulfilled. In 1617, when just about to embark for 
 her native land, she fell a victim either to one of those 
 great plagues which periodically ravaged the country 
 in the comparative darkness of medical science, or, as 
 is not improbable, oppressed by those emotions which 
 are sometimes incident to great moral changes in the 
 individual. Adopting not less the habits than in- 
 fluenced by the affection of her husband, Pocahontas 
 evinced her readiness to listen to those earnest lessons 
 of revelation which he conscientiously endeavoured 
 to instil. She, the first heathen of the Western World 
 who became converted to Christianity by the English 
 L 2
 
 148 DOA[ESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 settlers, realised the apostolical principle that con- 
 nubial union should issue in the establishment of a 
 common faith. Although we do not entirely adopt 
 the language of Mrs. Hale, who says that "the religion 
 of the Gospel seemed congenial with her nature," yet 
 there is no doubt that this last possessed an eminent 
 readiness, so far as human infirmity might permit, to the 
 acceptance of Divine Truth. We may, moreover, fully 
 concur in the testimony to her conduct, that " she was 
 like a guardian angel to the white strangers who came 
 to the land of the red men. By her the races were 
 united ; thus proving the unity of the human family 
 through the spiritual nature of the woman, ever, in its 
 highest development, seeking the good, and at enmity 
 with the evil ; the preserver, the inspirer, the exem- 
 plar of the noblest virtues in humanity." 
 
 Her physiognomy accorded to her disposition. Her 
 face was finely formed ; her eyes lustrous with intel- 
 ligence, and expressive of shrewdness and powerful 
 perception, yet unsullied with cunning or weakness ; 
 the benevolence of her whole nature constantly irra- 
 diating their expression. Her mouth developed mild- 
 ness, and bore the type of firmness without obstinacy, 
 and of self-control with the freedom of unstudied can- 
 dour. Her whole contour bespoke a happy \inion 
 of duty with inclination, nor could a beholder hesi- 
 tate to admit that her face was the index of a 
 mind devoted to the cause of universal love. Judging 
 
 O O 
 
 from her portrait, her complexion was a rich olive ;
 
 POCAHOXTAS. 149 
 
 and, although disfigured by the odious Spanish high- 
 crowned hat, characteristic of one of the most fantastic 
 periods of dress, whereby the head seems separated 
 from the body by the strangling ruff, yet her redundant 
 tresses, ever and anon escaping in careless richness, 
 gave much witchery to the archness of her glance. Her 
 person partook of the free elasticity of a denizen of 
 Nature's most luxuriant and unrestrained scenes, tem- 
 pered, yet not fettered, by the adoption of artistic cos- 
 tume and civilized regularity ; so that, in a word, the 
 body was fitted to its proper office of becoming the 
 agent, not the dictator, to the mind, and her physical 
 exterior readily accorded to the dictates of an active 
 intelligence and a prompt will. 
 
 As might be expected, such an individuality has 
 constituted a favourite theme of fiction and of song ; 
 but the simple truth of her story requires little addi- 
 tion from imaginative effort. Practically, we have 
 reason to hope that, through her solitary descendant, 
 her virtues have penetrated beyond the haunts of 
 the savage, and brought back to the land of her 
 own and her son's education, motives and records of 
 national affinity, uniting England and the Far West. 
 Her son, after being brought up in this country by 
 his uncle, returned to Virginia, where he became 
 wealthy ; and as we may fairly attribute to the 
 co-operation of nature and science the influence he 
 achieved, acting with no less benefit upon com- 
 merce than intelligence, so it is pleasant to record
 
 150 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 that several families of Virginia not only boast their 
 descent from, but exhibit the characteristic virtues 
 of our heroine. The great pass away in their gran- 
 deur a gi'andeur oftentimes achieved by suffering ; 
 the mighty establish a fame, which, though it flatter 
 egotism, is but a poor equivalent for national woe or 
 social depravity ; but the memorial of what is truly 
 good, and truly great, is that which establishes the 
 truth, that the most unmixed excellence has always 
 sacrificed self to the call of duty, at the shrine of 
 public good, and this glory it is which invests with 
 an imperishable halo the name of Pocahontas.
 
 uidjinm 
 
 " There is a comfort in the strength of love, 
 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else 
 Would overset the brain, or break the heart." 
 
 WORDSWORTH.
 
 BOBN 1620. DIED . 
 
 ABOUT the middle of the seventeenth century, the 
 umbrageous solitudes of Richmond were made the 
 theatre of a little romance, the record of which resem- 
 bles in character the creations of fiction, rather than 
 reality ; yet is, in effect, strictly true. A young man, 
 of good birth and fortune, whose heart had hitherto 
 resisted all the blandishments of the fair sex, went 
 thither to breathe a purer air than that of the metro- 
 polis, then tainted with the advent of the plague, and 
 was warned by his friends that so many attractions 
 were to be found there, in consequence of the vicinity 
 of the court, that no disengaged person ever visited 
 that beautiful environ of London, and returned heart- 
 whole. In spite of this hint, John Hutchinson went, 
 and established himself in a house belonging to a musical 
 professor, Mr. Coleman, who had given him lessons
 
 1 54 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 when in town. He soon became acquainted with 
 many young persons of both sexes, the house in which 
 he lodged being the scene of musical soirees, very 
 popular in the neighbourhood, and his society becom- 
 ing sought after by invitations pouring in on all sides ; 
 for Hutchinson was singularly favoured by Nature, 
 handsome and of elegant exterior, and possessing 
 mental qualifications of correspondent value. 
 
 He was of middle height, well and gracefully pro- 
 portioned : his complexion fair ; his eyes grey and 
 expressive ; his mouth characterized by sweetness, 
 mingled with considerable dignity ; hair of a soft 
 brown, curling in loose rings, fell around his counte- 
 nance in the fashion of the day. He had been 
 educated at Cambridge, and, at first, destined for the 
 law, was entered a member of Lincoln's Inn. His 
 university career had strengthened and improved his 
 intellectual qualities, while the succeeding sojourn 
 in London had been diligently spent in the acquisition 
 of accomplishments. It may be supposed this interest- 
 ing specimen of humanity attracted general observation, 
 and among the numerous handsome and lively girls who 
 now "set their caps at him," it was matter for occasional 
 serious complaint, that he should remain so completely 
 insensible to attacks, covert, as well as declared. The 
 young hero's heart was not, however, composed of 
 such impenetrable matter as they imagined ; and he, 
 who had hitherto set the sex at defiance, was destined 
 to become the slave of an idea, an idea, moreover,
 
 LUCY HUTCHINSOX. 155 
 
 of which the reality, strange to say, was to rivet his 
 chains ; a rare, almost impossible, concatenation of 
 circumstances, as the reader will admit. 
 
 An inmate of the same house with himself, where 
 she was located for the purpose of learning the lute, 
 during the temporary absence of her family, was a 
 little girl, the daughter of Sir Allen Apsley, late 
 lieutenant of the Tower, who had a residence within, 
 a short distance of that occupied by Mr. Coleman. 
 Young Hutchinson contracted a great liking for this 
 engaging child, and often sat near while she prac- 
 tised, or chatted pleasantly with her, when her task 
 was accomplished. One day his young favourite pro- 
 posed a walk to her mother's house, of which she had 
 the keys, and the visit proved so agreeable that he 
 often accompanied her thither, amusing himself with 
 examining the house and grounds, while she, possibly, 
 was superintending little household directions left to 
 be carried out in her mother's absence. The excellent 
 manner in which this lady had brought up her family, 
 is proved by the circumstance of a child twelve years 
 old, being intrusted with this kind of authority. It is 
 also more than probable that she was aware of the 
 result of Lady Apsley's protracted sojourn in "Wilt- 
 shire. Be this as it may, the young man, allowed, 
 one day, access to a little cabinet filled with books, 
 discovered there some Latin and other volumes, which 
 so excited his interest, that he made inquiries to 
 whom they belonged, and received for answer that
 
 156 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the owner of them was the elder Miss Apsley, a 
 young lady of seventeen, who was gone with her 
 mother to pay a visit to her maternal relations, the 
 St. Johns of Liddiard Tregooze ; and further, that it 
 was very likely " dear Lucy" would contract a mar- 
 riage there, with a gentleman much approved by 
 them. The younger sister's innocent and naive 
 remarks increased Mr. Hutchinson's curiosity, and 
 before he had heard much more, he began to feel the 
 strongest desire to meet the young lady, who had, 
 according to all accounts, received as much attention 
 from the other sex, as hers had lavished upon himself ; 
 the suitors in either case meeting with but scant 
 return. He possessed himself of minute particulars 
 relative to her appearance and pursuits, and was 
 almost pleased to find other ladies considered her too 
 reserved and studious, to be an agreeable companion. 
 This, to his tone of mind, was far from being a 
 reproach, and the similarity of their circumstances, as 
 well as a certain resemblance in tastes and modes of 
 thought, which he imagined in the fair unknown, 
 fanned the interest he had first experienced into 
 something he was at a loss to comprehend. Hence- 
 forth, the young bachelor eagerly seized every 
 opportunity of hearing Miss Apsley mentioned, and 
 at length, growing emboldened, was able to discuss 
 a question become most interesting to him, that of 
 her probable marriage, which afforded great food for 
 conversation in the neighbourhood.
 
 LUCY HUTCHIXSON. 157 
 
 A concert just at this time took place at Mr. 
 Coleman's house, and among the songs selected for 
 performance was one which suggested an argument 
 among the company, and provoked the disclosure that 
 an answer had been written to the words, which, after 
 some hesitation, was produced and read. This answer 
 must have had some merit, for the gentleman who had 
 written the original song, declared his conviction that 
 only two women of his acquaintance could have 
 composed it, and, of these, Miss Apsley was one. 
 The other supposed authoress having at once dis- 
 claimed the production, public opinion immediately 
 set Hutchinson's innamorata down as the writer. 
 He, on his part, discovered in the lines even more 
 merit than others did ; and getting into conver- 
 sation with the eulogist of Miss Apsley, he expressed 
 his anxiety to become acquainted with her, in no 
 measured terms. 
 
 " Do not build upon the idea," replied his com- 
 panion ; " Miss Apsley is of so reserved a nature, 
 that she opposes all introductions to new friends, 
 especially of our sex." 
 
 This only increased Mr. Hutchinson's interest. " I 
 will bet you what you please, I become intimate with 
 her, before a month is over our heads." 
 
 " Well, it will profit you but little, if you have 
 designs that way," was the rejoinder ; " for Mistress 
 Lucy will bear the name of Apsley no longer when 
 she returns, you may be sure It is all settled."
 
 158 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 An innate conviction to the contrary had taken 
 possession of Hutchinson's mind ; he was, in fact, 
 already deeply in love, without ever having seen the 
 object of his attachment, and a report which reached 
 the neighbourhood shortly after, that the marriage 
 had actually taken place, produced such a violent 
 effect upon him, that he became very ill, and was 
 obliged to take refuge in his own chamber. When 
 alone, he endeavoured to recall himself to reason, and 
 to " wonder why he should be so concerned in an 
 unknown person. He then remembered the story 
 that was told him when he came down, and he began 
 to believe there was some magic in the place, which 
 enchanted men out of their right senses ; but it 
 booted him not to be angry at himself, nor to set 
 Wisdom in her reproving-chair, nor Reason in her 
 throne of council ; the sick heart could not be chid, 
 or advised into health." Let this excessive emotion 
 be the result of imagination or reality, Hutchinson 
 was happily restored, by tidings which caused instant 
 revulsion of feeling, a few days after. Miss Apsley, 
 his little favourite, was suddenly sent* for to receive 
 her mother and sister upon their return home ; the 
 story of the marriage was all false ; and so well did 
 our hero manage, that he was invited to escort the 
 little girl home, and make acquaintance with her 
 relatives, a suggestion, we may imagine, he hesitated 
 not to comply with. Now took place the first meet- 
 ing between the amant imaginaire, and the object
 
 LUCY HUTCHINSON. 159 
 
 of his reveries. He found her, if not exactly as he 
 had pictured, still so completely in consonance with 
 his ideas of womanly perfection, that he lost no time 
 in improving the acquaintance, and placing himself 
 in a position to commence his suit. Pique may have 
 had something to do with this extraordinary and 
 sudden attachment, fancy even more, yet we must 
 allow it was strange ; and still more so, that Lucy 
 Apsley, from the first moment she looked upon him, 
 reciprocated the feeling of interest she had unwit- 
 tingly inspired. Not that an idea of love seems to 
 have entered a mind innocent as a child's, until some 
 considerable period after ; yet she felt hei'self drawn 
 towards him, confessed that the dislike to the other 
 sex she formerly entertained had passed away, and 
 that the question of marriage, which, to please her 
 mother, she had done her best to become reconciled to, 
 in Wiltshire, and from which a presentiment seemed 
 to warn her at that time, despite all her endeavours, 
 existed no longer when she became the object of 
 Mr. Hutchinson's regard. They appear to have been 
 excellently suited to one another in taste and senti- 
 ment ; their courtship, she herself remarked afterwards, 
 would have furnished matter for a better romance 
 than many extant ; and if the devotion of a lifetime 
 upon the part of each to the other affords corroboration 
 to their early love-passages, we may be satisfied it was 
 sincere, and far from overcoloured by the magic pencil 
 though one not always true to nature of youth
 
 160 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 That Mr. Hutchinson loved Lucy Apsley for lier- 
 pelf, is proved by an incident which merits relation. 
 By a strange coincidence, she was taken ill upon the 
 very day chosen to conclude preliminaries for the 
 wedding, her disorder being the small-pox. For some 
 days her life was in danger, and her lover suffered 
 agonies of suspense ; at length, the disease abated ; 
 but he was informed her beauty was greatly dimi- 
 nished, if not absolutely at an end. These tidings 
 produced upon him no visible effect, he was only 
 anxious for one thing, to make her his wife, the 
 moment she was able to quit her chamber. When 
 the priest and all around were " affrighted to look on 
 her," so disfigured was the bride by her late sickness, 
 she became Mrs. Hutchinson ; and it is pleasant to 
 learn his constancy was rewarded, though not till a 
 considerable time afterwards, by her entire restoration 
 to the charms she had originally possessed. 
 
 When the young pair were united, it was the 
 summer-time of 1638, and Lucy Hutchinson had 
 just attained her eighteenth year. The flame of 
 civil war had not, as yet, been kindled in our 
 country, but there were many indications of the 
 coming strife, and neither she nor her husband was 
 of a temper to ignore the principles they held, for 
 the sake of selfish ease, or even the indulgence of 
 their domestic happiness. Mrs. Hutchinson belonged 
 to a stanch royalist family, but Ireton was a rela- 
 tive and near neighbour of her husband, and spared
 
 LUCY HUTCHINSON. 161 
 
 no endeavours to render them confirmed supporters of 
 the parliamentary cause. We have not space here to 
 enter upon the question which so deeply agitated the 
 minds of many good and thinking men at this crisis. 
 Mrs. Hutchinson, though convinced of the king's in- 
 efficiency for government, seems to have done full 
 justice to his personal virtues. It is lamentable that, 
 in her Imsband's case, as in many others, party feeling, 
 which had originally its rise in the seeking after reli- 
 gious light, should have reached lengths unwarranted 
 by either the laws of justice or Christianity, and ended 
 in affixing the stain of regicide upon his name. 
 
 The peaceful life the young couple had led at 
 Enfield and Owthorpe was too soon at an end. 
 Hutchinson became a colonel in the parliamentary 
 ranks, and his wife, conceiving it her duty to be near 
 him whenever it was practicable, qualified herself, by 
 her constant participation in all his trials and dangers, 
 for the task of his biographer, one which she after- 
 wards, at considerable length, accomplished. Her 
 sympathy in everything interesting to him, is con- 
 sistently developed in her character ; she loses, in- 
 deed, all thoughts of self, in following his train of 
 feeling as well as action. It is impossible to imagine 
 a wife more devoted, nor can we doubt, had circum- 
 stances demanded it, that she would have readily 
 accompanied him to a scaffold, in compliance with 
 the principles he professed, and which she, for his 
 sake, so completely participated. 
 M
 
 1G2 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 But Hutchinson, becoming a marked man, was 
 obliged to leave his wife, and resort to concealment. 
 After some perils, the departure of the royalist forces 
 restored him to his family, and for a brief period all 
 were again happy at Owthorpe. Soon after, upon 
 receiving his commission as Lieutenant-Colonel, he 
 removed with his troop to Nottingham, where Mrs. 
 Hutchinson and her family joined him by night, for 
 greater safety than they could enjoy at home. Not- 
 tingham was, in those times, a place of considerable 
 importance, as commanding the passage to the North ; 
 and upon the withdrawal of the army on both sides, 
 Colonel Hutchinson received the appointment of 
 governor of the castle, a place then extremely ill- 
 fortified, and as badly provided with requisites for 
 sustaining a siege. Under the new administration, 
 the ruinous and forlorn structure was made capable of 
 lodging four hundred men in ease and comfort. Colonel 
 Hutchinson was thus prepared, in a measure, when, a 
 few months after, the earl of Newcastle attacked the 
 fortress of Nottingham, and, when demanding its sur- 
 render, received for answer from the intrepid governor, 
 " that if his lordship would have that poor castle, he 
 must wade to it in blood." There was but trifling 
 prospect of the castle being able to hold out for any 
 length of time, and little doubt may be entertained 
 that Colonel Hutchinson used his endeavours to per- 
 suade his wife to take refuge in flight before more 
 danger ensued. She resisted, and remained, without
 
 LUCY IIUTCHINSON. 163 
 
 hesitation, to share his perils. The earl's menace 
 turned out, however, innocuous ; he drew off his 
 troops to Hull, where Fairfax then was, and Not- 
 tingham was left in comparative security. Mrs. 
 Hutchinsou, in the mean time, rendered herself an 
 able coadjutor to her husband. They supplied funds 
 from their own property to the needy, she dispensing 
 food and medicines to the destitute or wounded sol- 
 diers, and acting to them the part of a tender friend 
 and nurse. Still greater usefulness was in her power 
 to contribute, for the inhabitants of Nottingham 
 were many of them disaffected to the parliamentary 
 cause, and treacherously admitted into the town a 
 troop of six hundred strong, who immediately laid 
 siege to the castle, in which the governor was shut 
 up with only a garrison of eighty men, many of his 
 soldiers who lodged in the town having been already 
 taken prisoners. While thus surrounded, Mrs. Hutchin- 
 son took upon her the duties of a surgeon, there 
 being none in the fortress. Her mother, Lady Apsley, 
 had acquired some knowledge of medicine from Sir 
 Walter Raleigh, whose experiments she had often 
 witnessed when he was imprisoned in the Tower of 
 London, of which Sir Allen Apsley was governor. 
 She attended the wounded, and it is recorded that 
 only one person was lost, who " bled to death before 
 he could be conveyed to the governor's lady." After 
 five days, succour arrived, and now we find Mrs. 
 Hutchinson not only ministering to her own people's 
 it 2
 
 164 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 wants, but relieving and assuaging the sufferings of 
 the royalists who had been captured. She bound up 
 and dressed their wounds with her own hands, an 
 act of charity which raised her up many enemies 
 among more narrow-minded and less humane persons. 
 
 When Cromwell became Protector, Colonel Hutchin- 
 son, sharing, with many others, the disappointment 
 his conduct elicited, withdrew himself, and again re- 
 sumed the life of peaceful happiness he had been 
 forced to abandon temporarily. The family returned 
 to Owthorpe, which was rebuilt and improved, it 
 having been plundered and partially destroyed by the 
 Royalists. Here Mrs. Hutchinson's charities had even 
 wider scope than at Nottingham. She relieved, but 
 not indiscriminately ; and whereas the neighbourhood 
 had been hitherto infested with thieves and beggars, 
 there " was suddenly not one left in the country." 
 Her wise and intelligent rule seems to have worked 
 wonders, and her name was long and deservedly re- 
 spected as the author of changes, momentous to the 
 cause of morality and industry. 
 
 An anecdote illustrative of JVIrs. Hutchinson's 
 courage may be inserted here. An*emeute had taken 
 place in Nottingham, and the soldiers were mustering 
 against the citizens, when she happened to drive into 
 the town. Seeing the state of affairs, she decided 
 without hesitation upon undertaking the office of 
 mediatrix. She appealed first to the soldiery, then 
 addressed herself to the townspeople, and actually sue-
 
 Lucy Hutchinson binding up the wounds of a Royalist. 
 
 P. 1C1
 
 LUCY HUTCHIXSON. 165 
 
 ceeded in restoring tranquillity. The citizens showed 
 their appreciation of her courage and address, by elect- 
 ing Colonel Hutchiuson their member, though he had 
 previously refused, partly on account of ill-health, to 
 represent the county. 
 
 Time went on, and Charles II. was restored to the 
 throne of his fathers. We may imagine how anxious 
 a crisis this "was, for so devoted a wife as Lucy 
 Hutchinson. She left no means untried to ensure her 
 husband's safety ; and thinking she detected on his 
 part, an inclination to render himself up a public 
 sacrifice, she resolved to prevent his intention by 
 every act in her power. After some difficulty, she 
 succeeded in prevailing on him to remain in conceal- 
 ment, declaring she would not live to see him 
 made a prisoner. She forced him to abandon her to 
 the custody of a friend, and then set about the work 
 of soliciting all her acquaintance for his safety. The list 
 of those persons excluded from pardon, did not happily 
 contain the name of Colonel Hutchinson, and she 
 became comparatively reassured ; but yet she could 
 not bring herself, for a long time, to consent to his 
 surrender, upon the proclamation of the sovereign, 
 which declared that all of the late king's judges, who 
 did not yield themselves in fourteen days, should re- 
 ceive no pardon. 
 
 Accused by her friends of obstinacy, she thought of 
 a means by which she imagined the safety of her 
 beloved husband might be secured. She wrote to the
 
 166 DOMESTIC HEROIITES. 
 
 Commons, in his name, saying that, "by reason of some 
 inconveniency it might be to him, he desired not to 
 come into custody, and yet should be ready to appear 
 at their call ; and if they intended any mercy to him, 
 begging that they would begin it, by permitting him 
 his liberty upon his parole, until they should finally 
 determine of it." This effort at temporizing, whether 
 well imagined or the reverse, turned out so far satis- 
 factory, that her endeavours, and those of her brother, 
 Sir Allen Apsley, ai-e believed to have produced the 
 result she desired. Not that Colonel Hutchinson 
 could ever be persuaded to profess repentance ; he was, 
 notwithstanding, permitted to remain at large, and to 
 return once more, peaceably, to his Owthorpe retire- 
 ment. 
 
 The health of the ex-governor required all her care. 
 Mrs. Hutchinson was yet obliged to leave him, and 
 travel to London, to prevent the passing of a bill 
 which would have saddled their estate with a con- 
 siderable debt. During this absence, she obtained 
 intelligence that the king had spoken in no favourable 
 terms of her husband. " He believed a man had been 
 saved who would do the same thing for him, that he 
 had done for his father, since he was still unchanged 
 in his principles, and readier to protect, than accuse 
 any of his associates." Such was the opinion of 
 Charles II., as repeated to Mrs. Hutchinson, and she 
 was furthermore assured that the pardon she hoped 
 for, would never be confirmed by the royal signature.
 
 LUCY HUTCHINSON. 1C7 
 
 Her informant, who was a relative, employed all his 
 address to induce her to reveal certain circumstances 
 of which she was cognizant, and took the surest 
 method of gaining his end, that of promising her the 
 future safety of her husband, in return for betrayal of 
 the secrets committed to her keeping. Mrs. Hutchinson 
 came nobly out of the ordeal. Though a woman, she 
 " resisted the bewitching vanity of showing the con- 
 fidence that had been reposed in her, by betraying it." 
 She made him believe she was ignorant, though she 
 could have enlightened him in the very thing he sought 
 for, and finding her secreay inviolable, he advised 
 her, if she wished to save her husband from ending his 
 days in captivity, to persuade him to leave England 
 without loss of time. Upon her urging, in reply, that 
 the act of oblivion protected him from further danger, 
 he told her, in confidence, that if the slightest pretence 
 could be found, the intention was to imprison Colonel 
 Hutchinson, and never again to set him at liberty. 
 
 Upon hearing these unpleasant tidings, the anxious 
 wife immediately commenced her persuasions to her 
 husband to depart for the continent ; but the colonel 
 would not be convinced, and only answered that this 
 was the place where the Almighty will had set him, 
 and it would evince distrust on his part to forsake his 
 country. The information she had received, proved 
 only too accurate. An excuse was speedily found, and 
 Colonel Hutchinson, accused of suspicious practices, 
 was committed to the Tower, where his wife could
 
 168 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 only see him in the presence of a witness, while their 
 house was searched, and boxes and cabinets ransacked, 
 but without finding any treasonable papers. From 
 this moment, Mrs. Hutchinson's exertions were unre- 
 mitting to procure his release, or, at all events, a 
 mitigation of the very stringent orders connected with 
 his imprisonment. All were unavailing. At length 
 he was removed to Sandown Castle, and her application 
 to be permitted to inhabit the same apartments with 
 him, being refused, she took lodgings in Deal, and 
 walked daily with her daughter to see him. The con- 
 dition of the unfortunate prisoner must, indeed, have 
 been galling in the extreme, to a man of refinement, 
 accustomed to a life of comfort. " He had to get his 
 chamber glazed, which was a thoroughfare room, having 
 five doors in it, one of which opened upon a platform 
 that had nothing but the bleak air of the sea ; whilst 
 every tide washed the foot of the castle walls." So 
 unwholesome and damp was the place, that every 
 package and, almost, article of furniture became, in 
 the course of the night, and even in the summer, covered 
 with mould. The colonel bore all without complaint, 
 nay, even cheerfully. Deprived of every other recrea- 
 tion, he amused himself with sorting shells, which his 
 wife and daughter brought to him. We may imagine 
 but scarcely realize, the frightful existence which the 
 captive wore out in this way, the monotony of each day 
 only broken by the visit of his beloved ones, who were 
 obliged to leave him at a given hour to all the melan-
 
 LUCY HUTCHINSON. 169 
 
 choly visions of the night. What Mrs. Hutchinson 
 endured is still less to be conceived : her unvai'ying 
 devotion to him, the grand idea of her life, must have 
 rendered the continual sight of his .suffering almost 
 a greater trial than humanity could bear. 
 
 Colonel Hutchinson was not destined to wear oufc 
 a long life in captivity. Death, more merciful than 
 man, interfered, and released him, exactly eleven 
 months from the period of his first arrest. Mrs. 
 Hutchinson taking notice of one of those extraordinary 
 coincidences that occur continually in life, though they 
 are not always observed, remarks, " that at the same 
 hour, and the same day of the month, and the same 
 day of the week, that the wicked soldiers fetched him 
 out of his own rest and quiet condition at home, eleven 
 months before, the Lord of Hosts sent his Holy angels 
 to fetch him out of their cruel hands up to his ever- 
 lasting and blessed rest above ; this being the Lord's 
 day, about seven o'clock at night, the eleventh day of 
 September, 1664 ; the same day and hour, the eleventh 
 of October, 1663." 
 
 His end was in consonance with the life he had led ; 
 the physicians in attendance, though strangers to him, 
 were moved to tears, and averred that no death- 
 bed scene could be more affecting or consolatory. His 
 faithful companion in so many scenes of trial, was not 
 permitted to behold the conclusion ; she was gone on 
 important business to Owthorpe, but she was told her 
 name had been the last upon his lips. " Let her," he
 
 170 DOMESTIC HEEO1NES. 
 
 had said shortly before, " as she is above all women, 
 show herself on this occasion a good Christian, and 
 above the pitch of ordinary women." This message 
 seems to have formed the guiding rule of conduct for 
 Mrs. Hutchinson's after-life. The recollection of her 
 husband and of her happiness with him, was hence- 
 forward her chief consolation, and by dwelling upon 
 the long enjoyment of her blessing, rather than be- 
 moaning its loss, and bringing himself and his actions 
 continually before her own and her children's minds, 
 she, in idea, prolonged his existence. She compiled an 
 elaborate memoir of him, for the purpose of giving 
 her children a true notion of the events of the period ; 
 at the same time she left them a record of their 
 father's virtues. Her narrative is considered more 
 satisfactory than many histories of the period ; and it 
 is matter for admiration in no slight degree, that whilst 
 it proves her to have " added to the erudition of the 
 scholar, the research of the philosopher, the politician, 
 and the divine, the zeal and magnaminity of a patriot; 
 yet she descended from all these elevations, to perform, 
 in the most exemplary manner, the functions of a 
 wife, a mother, and mistress of a family."
 
 " Oh ! not when hopes are brightest 
 
 Is all Love's sweet enchantment known ; 
 Oh ! not when hearts are lightest 
 
 Is all fond woman's fervour shown : 
 But like the lamp that lightens 
 
 The Greenland hut beneath the snow, 
 The bosom's home it brightens 
 
 When all beside is chill below." 
 
 PRINGLE.
 
 BORN 1636. DIED 1723. 
 
 THE distinguishing excellence of conjugal love con- 
 sists in its being totally opposed to that selfishness to 
 which our fallen nature is liable. The mutual devo- 
 tion of two persons is, where the union is happily 
 cemented according to God's law, all-pervading and 
 entire. Even animals participate in this emotion, and 
 the most fierce and untamed creature will frequently 
 sacrifice its own wants to supply those of its mate. 
 Wedded love has something inexpressibly holy about 
 it, and the very afflictions of life, so shared, are but 
 the dews which waken up flowers of virtuous loveli- 
 ness, from this their genial soil. 
 
 The object of our present notice has ever been 
 regarded as one of the brightest examples of that 
 imobtrusive feminine constancy, which softens great- 
 ness by the better qualification of goodness. Lady
 
 174 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 Rachel Russell was never greater than in her sorrow, 
 because therein she proved herself a truly religious 
 woman. Adversity, indeed, like the rude touch which 
 tramples down beds of violets and wild thyme, only 
 drew forth the fragrant sweets of a character, whose 
 influence was felt soothingly, by all who came within 
 the circle of her virtues. 
 
 Born about the year 1636, she was the younger of 
 the two only daughters of Thomas Wriothesley, earl 
 of Southampton, a zealous adherent to the fallen 
 fortunes of the unhappy Charles I. Early in her 
 infancy, the little Rachel had the misfortune to lose 
 her mother. That circumstance, combined with the 
 disturbed state of the kingdom, prevented her from 
 receiving a complete education ; but this evil she 
 remedied by her own exertions in after-life. Upon 
 the murder of King Charles, her father shut himself 
 in retirement, from which he only emerged upon the 
 restoration of Charles II. to the throne. 
 
 Marriages at that period were very differently con- 
 ducted to those of our own time. As Lady Rachel 
 herself remarked, " acceptance was then all tha$ was 
 necessaiy upon young people's part." She was scarcely 
 seventeen, when her father and the earl of Cavberry 
 arranged an union between their respective children, 
 and she became the wife of Francis Lord Vaughan, 
 who, however, died a few years after. 
 
 It was while sharing with her sister, Lady Elizabeth 
 Noel, the seclusion of their patrimonial inheritance at
 
 LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 175 
 
 Tichfield, in Hampshire, that she first became ac- 
 quainted with Lord William Russell, the then younger 
 son of a noble house. Her first husband had been her 
 father's choice, the second was her own. Gifted and 
 attractive, deservedly popular with the world, and 
 possessed of many tastes and qualifications in accord- 
 ance with those she herself evinced, it would, perhaps, 
 be impossible to imagine a more complete affection 
 than sprang up between these young persons. After 
 two years' engagement they were married, and she 
 departed with her husband, to enter upon that 
 public life which both were so eminently calculated 
 to adorn. 
 
 And now the excellent endowments of the Lady 
 Rachel's character began fairly to show themselves. 
 Taking a strong interest in political affairs, which 
 engaged her husband's attention, her judgment was 
 so clear, her opinions so diffidently yet so cor- 
 rectly formed, that her assistance became of infinite 
 value to him, and he consulted her upon every 
 question of importance. Many of his actions were 
 dictated by herself, nor does her influence ever 
 appear to have been exerted for an unworthy 
 purpose. 
 
 Happy in the entire affection of her husband, 
 and blessed with two daughters and a son, who bid 
 fair to inherit their parents' excellences, our heroine 
 seems at this period to have been in the enjoy- 
 ment of a lot as near perfection as is ever permitted
 
 176 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 to the travellers through this uncertain world. 
 Several of her letters have been preserved to us, 
 and prove how grateful a heart she possessed : in one 
 of them, written about the year of her son's birth, she 
 says : 
 
 " It is my great care so to moderate my sense 
 of happiness here, that when the appointed time 
 comes of my leaving it, or its leaving me, I may 
 not be unwilling to forsake the one, or be in some 
 measure prepared and fit to bear the trial of the 
 other." 
 
 The intensity, alas ! of her appreciation of this 
 sunny period of her existence, had no power to put 
 off that evil day, when dark clouds should lour 
 around her, and one by one, the cherished objects 
 of her attachment be removed from her sight, to 
 await her coming in another world, leaving her bereft 
 of all temporal aid, and unprotected from the storms 
 of fate, in this. 
 
 Whether justly or unjustly, Lord William Russell 
 was accused of treasonable intentions against the 
 Government. His stanch adherence to the Pro- 
 testant faith, and the independence of his principles, 
 had created for him a host of implacable enemies ; 
 and we are told, that " the laws against treason were 
 strained to produce his conviction ; " while, though 
 fully cognizant of the purity of his own intentions, he 
 had " too high a spirit to disavow having been con- 
 cerned in the conspiracy."
 
 LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 177 
 
 Several others were involved in the same accusation : 
 Lord William was the first to be apprehended. He 
 was found quietly reading in his study, neither con- 
 cealing himself, nor making preparations to elude the 
 pursuit he foresaw. He gave Tip all hopes of his life, 
 upon being taken into custody ; knowing how bitterly 
 his firm religious opinions had offended those then un- 
 happily in power. There must have been something 
 especially endearing about the character of this high- 
 souled man, from the evidences of regard many of his 
 friends gave him. Lord Essex, who was then at his 
 country house, whence he could very easily have made 
 his escape, when urged to do so, at the same time as he 
 was informed of the capture of his beloved companion, 
 replied " that his own life was not worth saving, if, 
 by drawing suspicion upon Lord Russell, it would 
 bring that of the latter into danger." Lord Cavendish 
 also planned an escape for one he had long and inti- 
 mately loved, by proposing to exchange clothes with 
 him in prison, and submitting to all the consequences 
 of remaining in his stead ; and the duke of Monmouth 
 sent messengers to him, declaring the joy with which 
 he would surrender his own person, if by so doing he 
 could ensure the precious life of his friend. Russell 
 was of course too generous to hear of either of these 
 proposals : he replied to them all, that he " had fore- 
 seen, and was fully prepared to meet his fate." 
 
 From the moment, however, when her husband had 
 been arrested, the Lady Rachel, instead of giving way
 
 178 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 to useless regrets, had seriously set about affording him 
 all the assistance, as well as consolation, he needed, in 
 his great danger and distress. She arranged the 
 papers for his defence, hurried to such witnesses as 
 were likely to attest his innocence from the grave 
 offences that were imputed to him ; and when the 
 request, first for the delay of a day, to give time for 
 these to appear, and then for that of a few poor hours, 
 was refused, prepared herself to stand at his side, his 
 support in the hour of peril. 
 
 The dreaded time drew near. The court of the Old 
 Bailey was crowded with people. Eight judges were 
 appointed, and three witnesses came forth to accuse 
 the prisoner. Calm and dignified he stood, unprovided 
 with any legal adviser, and requested to be permitted 
 to make use of another person's pen to write such 
 notes as he might require. 
 
 The Chief Justice made answer 
 
 " Any of your servants shall assist you in writing 
 anything you please." 
 
 "My wife is here to do it," replied the noble 
 prisoner ; and at the same moment the Lady Rachel 
 rose from beside him, and stood awaiting with 
 melancholy, yet hopeful eagerness, the desired per- 
 mission. 
 
 Her beauty and firmness struck the whole court. 
 The spectacle was as novel as it was impressive ; and 
 when the Chief Justice spoke again, it was with more 
 mildness and respect.
 
 LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 179 
 
 " If my lady will give herself that trouble," he said, 
 assentingly. 
 
 During the whole trial did this interesting and 
 devoted creature, seated beside her husband, follow 
 out the devious windings of the forced accusations 
 against him ; and when at length no further assistance 
 could avail, and a sentence was pronounced, which 
 " was considered by all who had any sense of shame 
 left, as the most crying injustice ever known in 
 England," still her heroic fortitude did not give way, 
 but alone she sought the presence of her sovereign, 
 and flinging herself at his feet, used every entreaty 
 which affection and despair could prompt ; urging, in 
 the most pathetic terms, her father's services to 
 the " martyr king," as a claim to the clemency and 
 justice of his son. 
 
 From the time of his condemnation she made almost 
 superhuman efforts to save him. Unceasingly occu- 
 pied in the endeavour to preserve a life so inexpressibly 
 dear to her, yet, to her undying praise be it spoken, 
 she never urged that renunciation of principles, which 
 would have placed him in immediate safety. His 
 honour was too precious to her to be, for any earthly 
 consideration, sacrificed. 
 
 Lord William's melancholy prognostications were 
 
 but too fatally founded. All attempts failed, every 
 
 entreaty met with the same refusal, his doom was 
 
 sealed, nor was he permitted the respite of many days, 
 
 N 2
 
 180 DOMESTIC HEROIIfES. 
 
 before, in the full flush of youthful bloom, he was to 
 fall beneath the headsman's sword. 
 
 Early on the morning before his execution, he was 
 permitted the sad satisfaction of seeing his children 
 for the last time, and giving them his blessing. The 
 still more terrible parting with his wife, did not take 
 place till eleven o'clock that evening. During the day 
 he spoke much of this devoted and beloved one, and 
 his eyes, at mention of her, filled with tears of love 
 and regret. His parting with her, he said, was the 
 hardest thing he had to do. Yet when the dreaded 
 time came, and she was to look her last upon those 
 features, the memory of whose endearing lines was 
 never to be obliterated by another image ; so unselfish, 
 so heroic, could this soft feminine heart become, in the 
 furnace of her fiery trial, that she forbore even a word 
 of regret, an exclamation of complaint, but, lest she 
 should unnerve him for his approaching fate, or aug- 
 ment, by a pang, his suffering, parted from him with- 
 out a single sob. 
 
 We may faintly imagine what a storm, of anguish 
 shook her soul when the heavy prison- door closed 
 after her, shutting her husband for ever from her 
 sight. For him, to use his own words, " the bitter- 
 ness of death was past ! " She herself looked back, 
 in after-time, with wonder, to the fortitude with 
 which she supported her misfortune. " There was 
 something," she said, " so glorious in the object of
 
 LADY KACHEL RUSSELL. 181 
 
 my greatest sorrow, I believe, that, in some degree, 
 kept me from being then overwhelmed." An eye- 
 witness writes of her in the following terms : " As 
 to Lady Russell, she bore the shock with the same 
 magnanimity which she had shown at his trial, when, 
 in open court, attending at her lord's side, she took 
 notes, and made observations on all that passed, in 
 his behalf. When prostrated at the king's feet, and 
 pleading with his majesty, in remembrance of her 
 dead father's services, to save her husband, she was 
 an object of the most lively compassion ; but now 
 (when, without a sigh or tear, she took her last fare- 
 well of him) of the highest admiration." 
 
 Report says, that with a refinement of cruelty 
 scarcely to be credited, the cold-hearted duke of York 
 had commanded the execution of the unhappy Russell 
 to take place before the windows of his own house 
 in Bloomsbury Square. Had this intention been 
 carried out, we shudder to imagine the distracted 
 mistress of the mourning household there, beholding 
 with unshrinking firmness, the odious paraphernalia 
 of death, and looking her last at her lord, even upon 
 the scaffold. It was, however, overruled, and Lin- 
 coln's-Inn Fields chosen as the scene of the sad 
 catastrophe. Lord Russell met his fate -with the 
 firmness which characterized him. On winding up his 
 watch for the last time, he remarked, with a calm 
 smile, " I have done with time ; now comes eternity !" 
 Without a moment's hesitation, he laid his head upon
 
 182 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the block ; as he did so, the closest observer could 
 detect no change of countenance. At two strokes it 
 was severed from his body. 
 
 Now, indeed, we may look for the resignation of 
 which Lady Russell's previous conduct had given 
 such ample promise. Fate had done its worst ; there 
 was no more excitement, no more hope ; she was 
 alone with her grief ! 
 
 Nor did she disappoint the expectations of those 
 who knew her. Nobly did the spirit of the Christian 
 support the violence of the tempest. Resigned, she 
 bowed to taste the bitter cup. No vain repinings 
 issued from her lips, no complainings against the 
 hand that had given, to take away again so soon her 
 greatest earthly blessing, no malignity launched at 
 his enemies, who had been permitted to shed the 
 innocent blood. Let us never forget the example she 
 has afforded us, and strive to imitate conduct whose 
 true heroism can never be surpassed. 
 
 Lady Russell had duties still to perform. Not 
 only did her own children demand her care, but 
 others, deprived of maternal tenderness, claimed a 
 guardianship which she readily and faithfully afforded. 
 Lady Elizabeth Noel, that dear sister whose interests 
 had ever been her own, the " delicious friend" (as 
 she was accustomed to term her) of her heart, died, 
 leaving her family a legacy of trust to their aunt's 
 affection. We see, indeed, in every relation of life, 
 this rare quality of self-devotion pre-eminent, whether
 
 LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 183 
 
 the object was the education of her daughters, who 
 never had any other instructress, or consolation and 
 advice were needed by a companion, or aid by a 
 dependent. The vacant place in her heart was never 
 again filled. Many years after the great calamity 
 of her life, she thus writes : " There are three days 
 T like to give up to reflection ; the day in which my 
 lord was parted from his family, that of his trial, and 
 the day he was released from all the evils of this 
 perishing world." It has been said she wept herself 
 blind ; whether this is true or not, it is certain she 
 suffered great agony from failing eyesight, and was 
 obliged to submit to a painful operation in conse- 
 quence, which she bore with her usual courage. 
 
 A little circumstance, related by herself, will show 
 that this last-named characteristic lost nothing of its 
 power in advancing years. 
 
 " As I was reading," she says, " in my closet, the 
 door being bolted, on a sudden the candle and candle- 
 stick jumped off the table, a hissing fire ran on the 
 floor, and after a short time left some paper in a flame, 
 which with my foot I put into the chimney to prevent 
 mischief ; then sat in the dark to consider whence 
 this event could come. I knew my door and windows 
 were fast, and there was no way open into the closet 
 but by the chimney ; and that something should come 
 down there and strike my candle off the table in that 
 strange manner, I believed impossible. After I had 
 wearied myself with thinking to no purpose, the
 
 184 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 servant in waiting, when I told him what had hap- 
 pened, begged pardon for having by mistake given 
 me a mould-candle with a gunpowder-squib in it, 
 which was intended to make sport among the fellow- 
 servants on a rejoicing day. 
 
 " Her ladyship bid him not be troubled at the 
 matter, for she had no other concern about it than 
 that of not finding out the cause." 
 
 Another instance of the readiness of her resolution, 
 though not to be commended, as a species of deceit, 
 was afforded in her visit to the duchess of Devonshire, 
 her eldest daughter, who was lying': ill at the time 
 when her mother had just quitted the corpse of her 
 sister. The duchess, inquiring earnestly after the 
 latter's health, her mother, desirous of concealing the 
 fatal event, replied equivocally, " I have seen your 
 sister this day out of bed." She did not explain that 
 she had seen her in her coffin. 
 
 At Lady Russell's decease, which took place in her 
 eighty-seventh year, October 5th, 1723, at Southamp- 
 ton House, she was buried beside her husband, at 
 Chenies, in Buckinghamshire ; an anticipation which, 
 we imagine, had formed no slight consolation to her 
 declining years. She had fulfilled more than woman's 
 usual mission of tenderness and tears, and, like a sun 
 in its setting, had expired in the lustre of those 
 virtues which had illuminated the zenith of her day. 
 At home, a tender mother, the clinging associate, the 
 almost timid dependent upon her lord's love, she awoke
 
 LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 185 
 
 to be transformed, in the hour of trial, into the fearless 
 though sorrowing advocate, the untiring follower, the 
 heroine of self-control. In some instances, great deeds 
 are bruited about by men through generations, in others, 
 they are to be sought for in the quiet nooks of 
 history, yet it is the fragrance of the unobtrusive 
 flower which delights the sense, and not the gaudy 
 glare of scentless blossoms. The virtues of Lady 
 Russell were of the former order : 
 
 " Consecrate unto sorrow and to love ; 
 Thy truth, thy tenderness be all thy fame ! "
 
 " The Rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, 
 
 And Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; 
 The Hose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, 
 And Love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears." 
 
 SCOTT.
 
 IF Heroism be admirable when, brandishing a 
 falchion like Joan d'Arc, it rushes on at the head of 
 armies, to deeds which shall immortalize its name, 
 how much more highly should we estimate it when, 
 without any of the excitement derivable from num- 
 bers, with no incentive furnished by the hope of 
 creating for itself a reputation and a glory, it engages 
 single-handed in the cause of love, and that love 
 the purest and the most unselfish peculiar to our 
 being, the love of the child to the parent ! 
 
 Filial affection ought to be spontaneous, instinctive, 
 though it is not less enjoined by the law of God, than 
 by that of nature and of man. Some cases, it is true, 
 exist, where the impulse can scarcely flourish in all its 
 fulness and intensity, on account of unworthiness in 
 its object. This is a sad sight ; but sadder still is the 
 truth, that characters there are in which this species
 
 190 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 of affection appears to have been an ingredient alto- 
 gether omitted, and whence no amount of care, or 
 devotion, is capable of eliciting its development. 
 Indeed, while the absence of the principle is produc- 
 tive of one of the most repellent phases of moral 
 perversion, its exemplification is so evidently marked 
 as a direct emanation from the Divine hand, that no 
 picture can be more inexpressibly beautiful than one 
 (which, after all, represents the performance of a simple 
 duty), the elastic form of youth, sacrificing its own 
 pleasures, denying its own impulses, and bending to 
 sustain the steps of that age whose prime has been 
 devoted, for the sake of the once tender offspring, to 
 a far more anxious task. 
 
 The action which raised the fair young Scottish 
 maiden, who is the object of the present sketch, from 
 obscurity, to place her a bright beacon in the starry 
 sky of female devotedness, was dictated by the same 
 beautiful and tender emotion of filial regard, which 
 illustrated sweet Margaret Roper, in her successful 
 enterprise at London Bridge. Miss Cochrane was a 
 young and delicate woman, nurtured in luxury and 
 ease ; her manners appear to have been unobtrusive, 
 her diffidence considerable ; indeed, the character of 
 the Scottish damsel was peculiarly retiring and quiet ; 
 yet she hesitated not to assume the garments of the 
 other sex, to sustain the fear of loaded fire-arms, unpro- 
 tected, and to encounter, with her fragile strength, the 
 fearful odds of combat with a powerful and irritated man,
 
 GRIZEL COCHEANE. 191 
 
 While she was yet a child, the father of our heroine, 
 Sir John Cochrane, second son of the first earl of 
 Dundonald, had become deeply involved in the insur- 
 rections which shook Scotland to the centre ; and by 
 the time she had attained her sixteenth year, his 
 deliberations upon the unhappy prospects of his native 
 land, had resulted in a determination to fly the scene 
 of disaster and oppression, and seek an adopted 
 country, which would at least permit the free exer- 
 cise of conscientious faith, denied him by his own. 
 To America the steps of the prospective exile tended, 
 and in the year 1683, Sir John found himself in the 
 streets of London, whither he had gone to arrange 
 the preliminaries of a voyage to South Carolina, 
 where the formation of a colony had been planned 
 by himself and some companions, to be immediately 
 carried into execution. 
 
 But the intentions of the patriotic emigrant were 
 destined to be frustrated. In London he met with 
 many dear friends : Algernon Sidney, the son of the 
 earl of Leicester, Lord William Russell, the heir- 
 apparent to the earldom of Bedford, John Hampden, 
 grandson of the patriot, and others as eminent. 
 With these stanch advocates of religious liberty the 
 Scottish baronet lingered, until he found himself for- 
 getful of the distant home he had sighed for, on the 
 American shore, and again deeply interested in ques- 
 tions, whose importance indeed could scarcely be over- 
 estimated, or their results too ardently discussed.
 
 192 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 The reign of Charles II. was drawing to a close ; 
 his health was menaced by more than one form of 
 disease ; dissipation and excess had done their work, 
 and the approach of death could at intervals be dis- 
 cerned even by the light-hearted monarch, whose 
 moments of reflection were fewer than any prince 
 perhaps we may say than any man ever experienced. 
 But a great change was observable in the king's con- 
 duct at this period. Formerly he had possessed as 
 large a share of the regard of his subjects, as is con- 
 sistent with the entire want of respect. If not be- 
 loved, he had been at least liked ; but now his temper 
 became soured, his gaiety forsook him, he treated 
 even his favourites with moroseness, and substituted 
 rigour and cruelty for the careless leniency which had 
 hitherto attracted many, by whom it had been yet 
 reprehended. 
 
 Grave doubts were entertained by the Protestant 
 party in England and Scotland, that the king nourished, 
 in secret, decidedly papistical opinions. It was treated 
 with severity instead of tolerance ; " the wife was 
 persecuted for concealing her husband, the father 
 for harbouring his own son." Torture, and forfeiture, 
 if not of life, of all those means which make life 
 tolerable, threatened those who were suspected, and 
 were dealt not only to the accused, but occasionally to 
 the very witnesses employed in their conviction. If 
 all this mischief was the result of the influence only 
 of the duke of York, the king's brother, it was easy
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 193 
 
 to imagine what would ensue upon his assuming the 
 sceptre, whenever the death of Charles should occur. 
 A general insurrection, with a view to the exclusion 
 of the duke from the succession, upon the ground of 
 his being a Roman Catholic, was set on foot, and Sir 
 John Cochrane was the person selected to aid the 
 duke of Argyle, in raising a body of the disaffected in 
 Scotland. 
 
 The melancholy history of this design, has been 
 already touched upon in the foregoing life of Lady 
 Rachel Russell. Her hapless husband, together with 
 Sydney, became the victims of treachery and coward- 
 ice : the one had entered the ranks of the conspirators 
 solely from the dread of the restoration of popery, by 
 the duke of York ; the other had embraced their cause, 
 because it opposed itself to a despotism which was now 
 fast becoming unbearable j illegality was resorted to, 
 when substantial accusation failed, and both yielded 
 up their lives upon the scaffold. But Sir John, his 
 companion and countryman Sir Patrick Hume, and 
 several others, were fortunate enough to escape a 
 similar fate, and fled to Holland, where the prince of 
 Orange, who had married the daughter of the duke 
 of York, and even at that period foresaw his probable 
 investiture with the crown of England in her right, 
 received them with kindness. Under his protection 
 they remained until the death of the king, upon 
 which event the slumbering flame of discord was again 
 aroused, by reports that the new sovereign had gon" 
 o
 
 194 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 publicly to mass, the very Sunday after his brother's 
 burial, and openly avowed that he possessed the names 
 of 20,000 conspirators in the recent plot, adding 
 a significant implication that he would not readily 
 forget one of those who had voted for his exclusion. 
 
 The dukes of Monmouth and Argyle had both 
 taken up their quarters at the Hague. To the former 
 the intelligence of the king's demise carried most 
 interest, nor could he hear of the apparently unopposed 
 succession of his uncle, without still more poignant 
 emotions of grief and disappointment. His was likely 
 to be a perpetual banishment ; and instead of being 
 raised to the throne of his father, which he had fondly 
 imagined might have been secured to him, he found 
 himself almost without the necessary funds to meet 
 expenses no longer borne by his cousin, the princess 
 of Orange, who dreaded her father's displeasure if she 
 continued to harbour him at her court. To the duke 
 of Argyle also, who entertained principles of violent 
 religious opposition, the present was a most important 
 crisis ; and after very slight deliberation, the two 
 noblemen agreed, despite many private differences, to 
 embark heart and hand in a fresh insurrection, which 
 should commence in the simultaneous attack upon 
 England and Scotland. Monmouth was to head the 
 latter, Argyle possessing the nominal control in his 
 native country, though placed completely under the 
 supervision of a council of war, without consulting 
 whom he could do nothing.
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 195 
 
 To this latter detachment the gallant Sir John 
 Cochrane belonged j but whether on account of jealousy, 
 as Macaulay supposes, or from justifiable disappro- 
 bation of Argyle's measures, a quarrel speedily broke 
 out between himself and the earl, which threatened to 
 ruin the enterprise at the very outset. The disputed 
 point was the division of the little army placed 
 at their disposal. Cochrane and Hume were for pro- 
 ceeding to Ayrshire ; their commander, for establishing 
 his authority, in the first place, over his own depend- 
 encies, by taking possession of the old domain of his 
 forefathers at Inverary ; in which case he hoped to have 
 raised a large reinforcement of men, and successfully 
 bid defiance to the rest of Scotland. The question was 
 at length settled. " Against the earl's better judg- 
 ment," he consented to divide his forces. Cochrane, 
 who had said he would go to Ayrshire, " even if alone, 
 and armed with nothing but a pitchfork," sailed, ac- 
 companied by Sir Patrick Hume, to invade the Low- 
 lands, whilst Argyle remained with an English officer, 
 named Rurnbold, in the Highlands. 
 
 Success attended neither division. The leaders met 
 again in the Isle of Bute, and so useless had been the 
 lesson hitherto furnished by their misfortune, upon 
 the necessity of unanimity in their councils, that here 
 again they were betrayed into dissensions, though at 
 the same moment the king's ships were advancing to 
 strike terror and despondency, into the hearts of the 
 insurgents. In disguise, the earl attempted to escape, 
 o 2
 
 196 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 whilst his companions endeavoured to provide for their 
 safety by flying in different directions. Accompanied 
 by Major Fullarton, whose guide he assumed to be, 
 the unfortunate earl set forth, and traversed, without 
 detection, the whole of Renfrewshire as far as Inchin- 
 nan. Here their further progress was arrested ; a 
 stream had to be passed, and a guard of the king's 
 soldiers kept watch over the only ford. Despite the 
 endeavours of Fullarton to lull suspicion, the earl's 
 identity was discovered. Overpowered when actually 
 in the water, struck down, and unable to defend him- 
 self, for his pistols, his only weapons, had been wetted 
 and rendered useless, the wretched Argyle found himself 
 again a prisoner, bareheaded, and with his hands tied 
 behind him, on his way to the same cell he had occu- 
 pied in the castle prison of Edinburgh. If Argyle had 
 been weak, formerly, the admirable constancy he showed 
 in the hour of peril and death, amply atoned for all. 
 He refused to purchase the most trifling advantage by 
 the betrayal of any of his coadjutors, in the scheme 
 which so signally failed, and died calmly and manfully, 
 as indeed did his associates Rumbold and Ayloffe, the 
 former of whom was executed a few hours before, and 
 the other shortly after himself. 
 
 While the flight of the earl had thus terminated so 
 fatally, Sir John Cochrane, at the head of a mere 
 handful of men, was engaged in mortal combat with 
 a detachment of the royalist forces. Called upon to 
 surrender, they intrenched themselves in the nearest
 
 GUIZEL COCHRANE. 197 
 
 available camp, a peaceful sheepfold, and so bravely 
 resisted the violence of their assailants, that victory 
 for the moment appeared to crown their arms. News, 
 however, speedily reached them, that a reinforcement 
 was marching to the aid of their opponents, and Sir 
 John, finding it useless to contend further, led his 
 ti'oops to the shelter of a neighbouring morass, where 
 he parted from them, urging upon his brave followers 
 the necessity to provide at once for their own safety. 
 
 In the vicinity of the place where this skirmish 
 had occurred, Cochrane knew his uncle, Mr. Gavin 
 Cochrane, resided. His house, he imagined, would 
 form a safe refuge ; and here, bruised and wounded, 
 the gallant soldier repaired, to find, alas ! treachery 
 prepared for his approach. The lady of the man- 
 sion of Craigmuir had unfortunately a brother, 
 Captain Clellan, among the royalists, who had been 
 killed in the late engagement, and revenge prompted 
 her to violate every principle of hospitality and give 
 up the refugee, who was borne to Edinburgh, and 
 incarcerated in the Tolbooth, previous to being ar- 
 raigned under the heavy accusation of a traitor. 
 
 Slowly passed the hours until the day of trial 
 arrived ! The earl of Dundonald, father of the pri- 
 soner, and a man of influence at court, on account of 
 his stanch adherence to the family who had con- 
 ferred upon him the honours he bore, spared no 
 exertion, left no means untried, to obtain the favour- 
 able consideration of King James.
 
 198 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 In his prison, unvisitecl by friends, for none were 
 permitted to approach him, pondering the fate of his 
 comrades, and calculating the faint chances of his 
 escape from condemnation, the captive, wearily anxious 
 even for the knowledge of that something worse, which 
 would probably end this terrible suspense, lay silent 
 and despairing. Coldly the day dawned, doubt was 
 too surely dispelled by the fatal certainty, and 
 Cochrane, led from his prison to meet the voices 
 of his accusers, and to listen to the enumeration of 
 deeds, his heart forbade him to regret, returned to it 
 a condemned man. He was sentenced to die ! 
 
 The first thought of the unhappy prisoner, upon 
 learning his fate, had been to avert mischief from his 
 sons, who, he well knew, were anxiously awaiting 
 the opportunity of visiting him, an opportunity now 
 accorded to the condemned, but one of which he was 
 anxious they should not avail themselves, until the 
 final interview before his execution, lest by any means 
 they might appear implicated in his crime. But this 
 restriction did not extend to his daughter. Possibly 
 Sir John, in the first grief of prospective parting with 
 those he had hoped to behold patriots and soldiers 
 like himself, the sons in whose glory and renown he 
 thought to " live his youth again," forgot that he 
 had a daughter. Certain it is, his surprise was only 
 equalled by his joy when, in the dim light of his 
 prison, he beheld a strange figure gliding towards 
 him, and felt two loving arms clasped around his
 
 GRIZEL COCIIRANE. 199 
 
 neck, whilst a wet cheek clung passionately to his 
 own. 
 
 Griselda was young and hopeful. After the first 
 burst of emotion, her presence seemed as a ray of 
 sunshine penetrating that gloomy dungeon. She 
 brought news of exertion in the highest quarters to' 
 preserve her father's life ; told how her grandfather, 
 the old lord, had despatched urgent messengers to the 
 king, as well as to the all-powerful Father Petre, his 
 majesty's spiritual adviser ; and endeavoured to raise 
 the drooping spirits of the prisoner, by prognostications 
 of success, which he was only too grateful to hear were 
 even entertained. 
 
 " But the time, my child ? " said Sir John, when, 
 carried away by her sanguine affection, the young girl 
 would have persuaded herself and her auditor, that 
 his pardon was eventually certain. " Alas ! Griselda, 
 should it indeed please Heaven to sway the king's 
 heart for my release, so short a period intervenes, 
 that it is too probable the bearer of the reprieve may 
 arrive too late ; it may be no longer in his majesty's 
 power to save." 
 
 " We must gain time, my father ! Fear not ! 
 Affection will inspire me with some invention to 
 procure the necessary delay." 
 
 " Alas, my darling, what can you do?" 
 
 " 1 1 much ! Remember the fable," she replied, with 
 an attempt at playfulness ; " remember the fable of 
 the lion and "
 
 200 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 " The doors must be closed ! " interrupted the 
 jailor, breaking in upon their conference ; " your time 
 is up, and the young lady must depart." 
 
 After this evening, not a day passed without bringing 
 poor Grizel to share her father's imprisonment, and 
 ' pour comfort and hope into his heart. But at times 
 she would sit vaguely gazing on the straw-littered 
 floor of the cell, and be unmindful of his conversa- 
 tion, though ever so pitiable or tender. The words, 
 "we must gain time," seemed to ring in her ears, 
 and scheme after scheme rose in her brain, to give 
 place to still another and another, less difficult of 
 execution. 
 
 While his devoted daughter meditated the means 
 of setting Sir John free, the hours flew rapidly by ; 
 flew, for they always fly the faster, when we would 
 retain and keep them by us ; and the day for the 
 execution drew near, to the horror of both parent 
 and child. The fearful fate before him, indeed, far 
 from growing familiar, seemed to acquire greater 
 intensity the nearer it approached, and he became 
 silent and dejected, inflicting such inexpressible dis- 
 tress upon Grizel, who was driven almost to frenzy 
 by his sufferings, that it was a relief to her when 
 she parted with him one evening, announcing, at the 
 same time, that she should be absent a few days, 
 and urging him to prevent his spirits from flagging 
 until her return. 
 
 Cochrane doubtless guessed the object that was to
 
 GRIZEL COCHKANE. 201 
 
 take his daughter, his consoling angel, from his side. 
 He gave her many tender injunctions, and inquired 
 anxiously into the purport of her movements, but she 
 was resolved, and would mention nothing of her plan, 
 lest she should be prevented carrying it out, now the 
 only hope for her father's life. 
 
 In the time of James II. travelling was a very dif- 
 ferent thing to what it is in the present day. There 
 were no inventions to prevent fatigue, there were no 
 telegraph wires to convey messages and commands. 
 Fortunate was it for Grizel that it was so. The letters 
 were borne by men on horseback from town to town, 
 and it took more than an entire week to get a letter 
 from London into the hands of those for whom it 
 was destined in Scotland. 
 
 Grizel calculated, and found that the mail would 
 come in before long, bearing with it, she entertained 
 no doubt, the warrant for the execution of her beloved 
 father. This must be got rid of; the man must be 
 waylaid, and his despatches taken from him, which 
 would procure the respite of another week, and give a 
 chance for the letter, she sanguinely anticipated of 
 pardon, to reach the condemned. This task, of which 
 its very nature would have deterred most girls from 
 even dreaming of, Grizel determined should be accom- 
 plished by no one but herself. No other should 
 run the risk of failure, should put life and limb in 
 peril ; and only too happy did she feel at being 
 able to demonstrate, by the performance of so uuex-
 
 202 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 ampled a feat, the adoration she entertained for her 
 parent. 
 
 Attired in the usual habiliments of her sex, the 
 anxious daughter set out on horseback from Edin- 
 burgh ; but although her steed was the same she 
 usually rode, its appearance was so far disguised by 
 want of the usual careful dressing and equipment, that 
 there was as little to excite attention in the animal, as 
 in her own simple habiliments, which had been selected 
 from, those worn by the lower classes in Scotland. 
 Her petticoat was of the coarsest material, her hood 
 to correspond, and in front of her saddle she carried a 
 small parcel tied up in the form of a bundle, and con- 
 taining the few necessaries she required. Yet one 
 more preparation; for the first time in her life, though 
 by no means the first upon which she had essayed theii 
 use, Grizel carried a pair of pistols ; nor could she con- 
 trol a shudder when she placed them, carefully loaded, 
 within the folds of her vest ; for her heart misgave her, 
 lest any disagreeable encounter on the journey, or 
 opposition in effecting the object of it, might force her 
 reluctant hands to call in their aid. 
 
 Before it was light, she commenced her journey, and 
 passing through the sleeping city, took the southern 
 road, and proceeded rapidly onward for several miles, 
 without seeing a creature, or encountering a single 
 observation. At mid-day she stopped to rest her 
 horse ; but, going off the more frequented road, sought 
 for what she wanted at a little farmhouse, where few
 
 GRIZEL COCHRAXE. 203 
 
 questions were likely to be asked. On again as soon as 
 practicable, and stopping in the same manner to give 
 her horse and herself shelter for the night. If she 
 pursued this pace, and with equal success, she would 
 reach the border in a shorter period, than her most 
 sauguine hopes had anticipated. 
 
 Near the town of Berwick, and a mile or two 
 within the territories of England, there lived, at this 
 period, a woman who had nursed some of the mem- 
 bers of Sir John Cochrane's family. She had retired 
 to her own home, and there residing quietly with 
 ier children, heard but little of the fortunes of 
 her patron and his house, for whom, however, she 
 retained the strongest feeling of attachment. 
 
 As this woman was sitting at work in her little 
 dwelling, the second day after that on which Miss 
 Cochrane had left the Scottish capital, she was startled 
 by the entrance of a young female, whose appearance 
 bespoke her a domestic in some second-rate household, 
 and who had dismounted from a tired and travel- 
 stained horse, which, before pushing open the door, she 
 had tied to the porch in advance of it. 
 
 Not until Grizel declared her identity, cautioning at 
 the same time her faithful nurse to be secret, and 
 threw off the enveloping hood, disclosing her well- 
 remembered and beloved features, did the poor woman 
 recognise the child she had brought up, and still loved 
 tenderly. Then, with little difficulty, she compre- 
 hended the object of her young lady's mission, though
 
 204 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 she trembled when the task was fully explained to 
 hor, which that delicate girl, unaided, proposed to 
 accomplish. She turned pale with affright, as Grizel 
 declared her intention of resorting to force, if stratagem 
 were unavailing ; and her eyes filled with tears, upon 
 hearing her solemnly vow, that she would obtain the 
 fatal letter, if with the sacrifice of life itself. But the 
 honest creature never thought of refusing, when 
 told to bring some of her own son's clothes, but 
 between tears and adjurations, equipped her young 
 mistress, who, in the garments of her foster-brother, 
 and when additionally furnished with the horseman's 
 cloak she had concealed in her bundle, appeared, a 
 handsome stripling, very unlike the fragile and elegant 
 maiden who had won many an admiring glance from 
 her father's guests and comrades. 
 
 And now bidding her nurse adieu, having ascer- 
 tained from her lips all details that could assist her in 
 her undertaking, Grizel again set forward towards the 
 small country town of Bel ford, where she intended to 
 waylay the messenger who bore the postbags from 
 Durham, and who usually halted at a hostelry just 
 outside the place, to take a few hours' repose before 
 continuing his journey northwards. She knew accu- 
 rately the time at which the man usually arrived, 
 and so well arranged her own, that she reached the 
 little inn just as the postman, after refreshing himself 
 and his horse, had gone to take his usual nap in a 
 corner, boarded off to admit of the convenience of a
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 205 
 
 sleeping-chamber ; the only room for the accommo- 
 dation of travellers that the cabin for it was scarcely 
 more half house, half hovel, possessed. 
 
 Entering the stable, and fastening her horse there, 
 for no boy or man appeared to perform the duty, 
 Grizel examined with a feeling of interest the steed 
 of the postman, which, disembarrassed of its saddle, 
 was standing with head bent down and eyes closed, 
 in the further corner. She noted, with pleasure, that 
 the animal seemed tired, and was otherwise in no way 
 remarkable in appearance for fleetness or strength. 
 Turning complacently to her own, she left the stable 
 somewhat reassured, and entered the house. 
 
 The grey shades of morning scarcely illuminated 
 the dark and dirty apartment in which the deli- 
 cately nurtured Miss Cochrane now found herself. 
 It was partially illuminated by the light of a 
 glowing fire kindled on the hearth, and near this 
 was a table, bearing the remains of a repast, whose 
 uninviting details filled her with disgust. It was 
 no time, however, for fastidiousness, and without 
 hesitation, she seated herself, while the woman of the 
 house was busied in setting before her what her little 
 pantry possessed, in addition to what was already on 
 the table. Contenting herself with pushing aside 
 the pewter jack which had contained the beverage 
 of the last comer, she asked for a cup of water. 
 
 A moment's reflection had enabled her to decide 
 upon the best course for her to pursue. After casting
 
 206 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 a rapid glance ai'ound the apartment, and taking a 
 mental review of its circumstances, she observed 
 that the door of the little partition was open, whence 
 issued the postman's heavy breathing, and that a 
 pair of pistols, evidently his property, lay upon the 
 settle beside her, half concealed by the cloak he had 
 thrown off. The faint hope flashed across her mind, 
 that he might have deposited the letter-bag here 
 also, and as the woman left the house to procure 
 the draught she had requested, Grizel shook the 
 garment with trembling eagerness ; but no post-bag 
 was there. The next moment the woman put her 
 head in at the door. 
 
 " I say, my boy," she growled sulkily, " mind you 
 don't be playing with them pistols whilst I'm gone. 
 The well 's a muckle step away, and I wad'na be 
 pleased to find ye laying dead upon the floor when I 
 come back, with the contents on 'em in your giddy 
 pate." 
 
 Poor Grizel ! how her heart beat as, the woman 
 fairly gone, she flew on tiptoe to the door of the box, 
 where the postman lay audibly enjoying his repose. 
 She was so far fortunate, that there was no other 
 occupant of the house but herself and the sleeper ; 
 yet the very idea that she was within a few inches 
 of the terrible document whose possession she so 
 passionately coveted, threw her into a paroxysm of 
 tremor. She had now gained a full view of the man, 
 who lay in a dead slumber within the inclosure ; but
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 207 
 
 the mail-bag was nowhere to be seen, and it was only 
 from observing, as she did when her eyes grew ac- 
 customed to the darkness, that a strap, partially 
 revealed, fell down the side of the bedstead, that she 
 could conjecture he had, for security, placed the mail- 
 bags underneath his pillow, whence it was impossible 
 to abstract them. 
 
 Alas for poor humanity ! we might commiserate the 
 anxious Griselda, if a fearful thought passed through 
 her brain, when her hopes were thus foiled by the 
 total hopelessness of securing the paper, without its 
 guardian being aroused. "We may pity, if not sym- 
 pathize with her in the momentary thought, " I have 
 the means of this man's destruction at my disposal ; 
 a movement of my hand, one single pistol-shot 
 he is incapable of offering me opposition and my 
 father safe ! My horse is fleet ; long before I can be 
 pursued, I shall be secure with my prize, miles away 
 on the road to Edinburgh ! " Only a moment, a single 
 moment, could such a thought find shelter in that 
 gentle mind ; it had only to arise, to be repelled with 
 horror. " No, not violence ; a shadow, though of the 
 faintest hope, remained ! She must try other means, 
 and then " 
 
 To the quick hand of the brave girl it was an easy 
 matter to withdraw the charge from the two loaded 
 pistols she had seen upon the settle. For this con- 
 tingency she had practised, and was prepared. By 
 the time the hostess entered, the pretended youth,
 
 208 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 seated in the same position as before, beside the now 
 harmless weapons, was carelessly breaking and demo- 
 lishing a piece of the untempting-looking bread, which 
 had been set before him. 
 
 " Your guest there makes noise enough for a 
 dozen," she said, with an attempt, which proved more 
 successful than she dared to hope, to disguise her 
 woman's voice. "A pretty time to be sleeping and 
 snoring like that, when all honest folks are going 
 about their work." 
 
 The woman was somewhat mollified as Grizel, after 
 taking the draught of water, threw down a fair, 
 though not large, sum to pay for her morning's re- 
 freshment, and answered, civilly enough, that the 
 slumberer was the postman, and had ample need of 
 the repose he gained, having travelled a considerable 
 distance, and during the most solitary hours of the 
 night. 
 
 " Maybe he takes a long spell, now he's in for it, 
 though," said Grizel slily ; " he won't be after starting 
 again until he has had his sleep out, I warrant." 
 
 " No ; he has to reach Berwick by o'clock," 
 
 returned the woman, indicating the hour. " Tis only 
 young callants, such as you, that want your sleep 
 twelve hours round. He'll be off shortly, though I'll 
 have to wake him myself, sure enough." 
 
 The questioner had now ascertained all she desired 
 to learn. She bade the hostess, therefore, good-day, 
 and remounting her palfrey, she put him into a trot,
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 209 
 
 and soon arrived at a secluded part of the high-road 
 towards Berwick, where she determined to await the 
 appearance of her adversary, and, by stratagem or 
 force, obtain the fulfilment of her wishes. 
 
 Let us place ourselves for a moment in Grizel 
 Cochrane's position, and try to realize the dread and 
 agitation with which her woman's nature waited the 
 coming trial. Her casual glance at the head and 
 shoulders of the sleeping postman, appearing above the 
 bed coverlid, had assured her that she would have to 
 contend with no stripling, but a powerful and coura- 
 geous man. She shrank from the very idea of a 
 struggle ; her delicate wrists might have been crushed 
 by one grasp of his iron hand ; nay, though she had 
 withdrawn the charge of the pistols, might he not 
 employ one of them to stun her as she sat in the 
 saddle a minute's work ? What, too, if he discovered 
 the trick that she had played him, examined his arms, 
 and reloaded them, no unlikely circumstance ! Alas ! 
 how many conflicting doubts passed through her mind, 
 and it required all her resolution to keep in view the 
 end she purposed her father's life to restore her 
 nagging spirits, worn with fatigue and anxiety, to 
 composure. 
 
 The sound of a horse's hoofs at length reached the ear 
 of the expectant. To many minds, the presence of what 
 is dreaded, the arrival of the moment of action, brings 
 with it an accession of strength wholly unattainable 
 when the evil is only beheld from a distance. The very
 
 210 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 sight of the man, steadied the hand of Grizel, and 
 stilled the passionate throbbings of her breast. On 
 he came, until he reached her side, at a heavy jog-trot, 
 greeting her with a half-acknowledgment as she 
 urged her horse to keep pace with his, as if desiring 
 to travel in company. 
 
 For a short time the pair proceeded amicably 
 enough ; at last, perceiving that they were entering a 
 thick wood, very favourable for her purpose, Grizel 
 looked around her mysteriously, giving, at the same 
 time, a shrill whistle, a proceeding which, she noticed 
 with pleasure, appeared to afford much speculation to 
 her companion. After a minute or two she repeated her 
 apparent signal, and this time the man inquired with 
 some surprise, the motive of her extraordinary action. 
 
 Grizel now changed her tone altogether, and 
 instead of still appearing the quiet country boy, 
 assumed an air of resolute though swaggering defiance. 
 In a few forcible words, she informed him that she 
 was one of a gang secreted in the forest, and that the 
 whistle he had noticed, was intended to bring them to 
 her assistance. 
 
 " You think, I suppose," said she, " that I am too 
 much of a lad to put my determination into practice ; 
 but you will find there are a score or two of others 
 ready to second every blow I give. We are deter- 
 mined to have the mail- bags, my friend, and, dead or 
 alive, you'll have, before many minutes are over your 
 head, to resign the care of them into my hands."
 
 ijrizel Cochrane stopping tne Postman.
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 211 
 
 As the pretended boy thus spoke, he drew one of 
 his pistols from his bosom, and presented it with un- 
 flinching hand at the breast of the thunderstruck post- 
 man. The action was met by a corresponding gesture. 
 With an oath the man took aim at his boyish assailant, 
 who calmly awaited the shot, feeling at the moment a 
 blissful certainty that the pistol had not been meddled 
 with, since he last saw it at the inn. The event jus- 
 tified his hopes : a momentary flash, and a tiny curl of 
 smoke, were ths only results of the discharge, and 
 joyfully she beheld him fling the harmless weapon 
 violently to the ground, and try its companion, with 
 the same success. 
 
 " See," she said, with a provoking smile, " the mea- 
 sures of our band were better taken than you dreamt 
 o We have made free with your pistols, my fine 
 fellow not a particle of charge in either. Now, take 
 my advice," she added, more seriously ; " don't be 
 such a simpleton as to throw away your life, when I 
 and my companions, who detest bloodshed when we 
 can help it, only want to rid you of those mail-bags 
 there, and look them over, honestly intending to 
 return them to you, in an hour or two." 
 
 The postman deigned no reply. He was enraged 
 to the last possible limit of patience. The taunting 
 words and wicked smile of his assailant, mastered the 
 sole remains of prudence he possessed, and hastily 
 leaping from his horse, he sprang across the road to 
 lay hold of Griselda's bridle. Not so fast ! Seizing 
 p 2
 
 212 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 her opportunity no better could have been afforded 
 Grizel, with one rapid movement, sent her obe- 
 dient steed, swift as an arrow from the bow, several 
 feet ahead, and seizing with wonderful dexterity 
 the reins of the other horse, dashed forward at a 
 tremendous pace, with both animals under her hand. 
 
 In twenty minutes more she had stopped beneath 
 the thickest shade of the wood, far off the spot where 
 she had left her astounded opponent. No violence 
 had been done ; not a hair of the man's head was 
 hurt ; her fingers had not been soiled by the smallest 
 attempt at an encounter, and her father's death-war- 
 rant was in her possession ! 
 
 Ripping up the strong leather fastenings with a 
 sharp knife she carried about her, Grizel had not only 
 the warrant for Sir John's execution before her, but 
 those of many others, whom she was surprised to find 
 even in danger. She tore all into fragments, and cast 
 them to the winds, which speedily separated the 
 atoms, never to be reunited ; and then tying the mail- 
 bags again to the saddle, and fastening the postman's 
 horse to a tree, she hastened back to the house of her 
 nurse, who awaited her in an agony of expectation. 
 
 Here Grizel cast aside the male garments she had 
 assumed, and destroyed by fire any remaining evi- 
 dence as seals or stamps of her exploit. She 
 dressed herself again in the same simple domestic ha- 
 biliments she had arrived in, and was once more, 
 to all appearance, the poor serving-girl going back
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 213 
 
 upon a borrowed horse, after seeing her friends in 
 the country, to her " place " in Edinburgh. 
 
 "Who shall describe the gratitude and wonder of the 
 anxious prisoner, Sir John, when his daughter, fling- 
 ing herself upon his bosom, whispered to him the 
 secret of her bold project, and assured him of his 
 safety until the next eight days' post could bring a 
 fresh order for an execution, which probably, by that 
 time, would be stayed altogether? With an April 
 mixture of tears and smiles, Grizel told her story, and 
 received the reward of blessing and acknowledgment 
 she had so fully merited. 
 
 It pleased Heaven to prosper her dutiful effort. 
 The delay in the fulfilment of the sentence, gave old 
 Lord Dundonald the opportunity of effectually work- 
 ing upon King James, through the priests of his 
 household, whom he bribed with five thousand pounds, 
 which turned the scale in favour of his son's life. 
 In due course of time, a pardon arrived for the 
 prisoner, and, whilst others fell around him like 
 toppling towers in a fearful earthquake, he alone was 
 safe. Years after, when the intrepid daughter became 
 a happy wife and mother, when the stern clarion of 
 strife no longer sounded in the land, when persecution 
 and tyranny were replaced by mild and tolerant rule, 
 and it was no longer treason to whisper the name of 
 "James" in accents of indignant reproof, the story 
 was told by the father to his attentive auditory, of 
 that fair matron's heroism and devotion, and blessings
 
 214 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 still breathed with fervent tenderness upon her head 
 by the white-haired grandsire, who, sitting by her 
 side, prayed silently that the children of her he loved, 
 might be to her as she had been to him. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact that Sir John Cochrane's 
 friend and companion in arms, Sir Patrick Hume, 
 possessed a daughter whose tenderness and heroism 
 strongly resembled those of Miss Cochrane. Her 
 name she also, strangely enough, bore. This young 
 lady had an opportunity of rendering an important 
 service to her father, whose only confidante, out of a 
 large family, she became, when secreting himself in 
 the vaults beneath the church adjoining his own re- 
 sidence. 
 
 " She went," says Lady Murray, her daughter, in 
 a lively little history of her mother's doings, com- 
 mitted to paper some years after, "she went every 
 night, by herself, at midnight, to carry my grand- 
 father, Sir Patrick, victuals and drink, and stayed 
 with him as long as she could, so as to get home 
 before day. In all this time, he showed the same 
 constant composure and cheerfulness of mind that 
 he continued to possess to his death, which was at 
 the age of eighty-four ; all which good qualities she 
 inherited from him in a high degree. Often did they 
 laugh heartily, in that doleful habitation, at different 
 accidents that happened. She, at that time, had a 
 terror for a churchyard, especially in the dark, as is 
 not uncommon at her age, by idle nursery stories ;
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 215 
 
 but when engaged by concern for her father, she 
 stumbled over the graves eveiy night alone, without 
 fear of any kind entering her thoughts, but for soldiers 
 and parties in search of him, which the least noise, or 
 motion of a leaf, put her in terror for. The minister's 
 house was near the church. The first night she went, 
 his dogs kept such a barking as put her in the utmost 
 fear of a discovery. My mother sent for the minister 
 next day, and, upon pretence of a mad dog, got him 
 to hang all his dogs. There was also difficulty of 
 getting victuals to carry him, without the servants 
 suspecting. The only way it was done was by stealing 
 it off her plate at dinner, into her lap. Many a divert- 
 ing story she has told about this and other things of 
 the like nature. Her father liked sheep's head ; and 
 while the children were eating their broth, she had 
 conveyed most of one into her lap. When her brother 
 Sandy (afterwards Lord Marchmont) had done, he 
 looked up with astonishment, and said, 'Mother, will 
 you look at Grizel ; while we have been eating our 
 broth, she has eat up the whole sheep's head ! ' This 
 occasioned so much mirth among them, that her 
 father, at night, was greatly entertained by it, and 
 desired Sandy might have a share in the next." 
 
 Lady Murray also tells us how Sir Patrick was 
 concealed beneath his own castle, in a low room, and 
 how Grizel, with wonderful perseverance and labour, 
 herself excavated a place for the bed he was to occupy, 
 by "scratching up the earth with her nails, till she
 
 216 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 Jeffc not a nail upon her fingers" (to use the exact 
 words), "carrying it into the garden, at night, in 
 bags." 
 
 A little picture of the necessities of the age, may 
 be seen in one more extract from the same narra- 
 tive : 
 
 "All the time they were in Holland (where they 
 afterwards fled), there was not a week my mother did 
 not sit up two nights, to do the business that was 
 necessary. She went to market, went to the mill to 
 have their corn ground (which, it seems, is the way 
 with good managers there), dressed the linen, cleaned 
 the house, made ready dinner, mended the children's 
 stockings and other clothes, made what she could for 
 them, and, in short, did everything. Her sister 
 Christian, who was a year or two younger, diverted 
 her father and mother and the rest, who were fond of 
 music. Out of their small income they bought a 
 harpsichord for little money ; but it was a Rucar" (the 
 Erard of that day, we suppose), " now in my custody, 
 and most valuable. My aunt played and sang well, 
 and had a great deal of life and humour, but no turn 
 to business. Though my mother had the same quali- 
 fications, and liked it as well as she did, she was 
 forced to drudge, and many jokes used to pass between 
 the sisters, about their different occupations." 
 
 Sir Patrick afterwards became an earl, and Chan- 
 cellor of Scotland. It will be seen from the foregoing 
 quotation, that the devotion of Grizel was a charac-
 
 GRIZEL COCHRANE. 217 
 
 teristic of the family. Filial love was hereditary, and 
 speaks as plainly in the pride displayed in every line 
 of Lady Murray's narrative of her mother, and her 
 mother's doings, as in the more energetic and daring 
 feats of Miss Cochrane, and her namesake and con- 
 temporary, Grizel Hume. Heroism was rife in those 
 days, and family attachment equally strong. 
 
 Daughters of England, let circumstances arise to 
 warrant them, who shall say that you would be back- 
 ward in emulating this bright example ?
 
 [hrifab, Countess of ftitjjsbak 
 
 "Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will 
 Out at the casement : shut that, and 'twill out 
 At the keyhole : stop that, 'twill fly with the 
 Smoke out at the chimney." 
 
 SHAKSPEABK.
 
 firafrrir, Countess of ftrfjiskk 
 
 BOBH 1690. DIED 1749. 
 
 THE 9th of January, in the year 1716, the day of 
 the opening of Parliament, was one of fearful import 
 to seven wretched men, who awaited within the 
 Tower prisons, a judicial decision relative to their 
 future fate. They had heen dragged from the North 
 in company with many others ; made to submit to 
 numerous indignities ; and had entered London, their 
 arms tied behind their backs, like common highway- 
 men, while the yells and scoffings of the multitude 
 mercilessly assailed them. These men were the 
 unfortunate adherents of the " Pretender," James 
 Francis, half-brother of Queen Anne, at whose death, 
 two years before, they had attempted to place that 
 prince upon the throne of England. Upon the very 
 day the Houses met, articles of impeachment were pre- 
 sented against Lords Derwentwater, Nairn, and Wid-
 
 222 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 drington, the earls of Nithsdale, Carnwath, and Winton, 
 and Viscount Kenmure, for high treason. Scarcely a 
 voice was raised to avert " the doom of these incom- 
 petent revolutionists," though there were many then 
 present who covertly supported the same cause. Their 
 impeachment was rapidly followed by a species of trial. 
 Before the House of Lords, assembled in the form of a 
 court of justice in Westminster Hall, the prisoners, 
 with one exception, Lord Winton, kneeling, confessed 
 their guilt, and commended themselves to the lenity 
 of the king. Alas ! King George, though " a prince 
 neither unmerciful nor cruel, was far from possessing 
 either a tender heart, or a lively imagination." Lord 
 Stanhope, " who was a man of feeling," interposed, and 
 succeeded in rescuing Lord Nairn, who had been his 
 schoolfellow, from the fate which impended, but upon 
 the rest, sentence of death was pronounced. 
 
 It is not to be supposed but that the friends of 
 the condemned made the most strenuous efforts for 
 a commutation of their punishment. Many mem- 
 bers of the Upper House were among these, and 
 when bribes sixty thousand pounds was offered for 
 the single pardon of Lord Derwentwater failed, 
 personal .solicitation was resorted to, with such 
 urgency, that Lord Nottingham and others forfeited 
 theieby their places in the cabinet. Respite, how- 
 ever, was accorded, as some respect " due to the 
 opinion and feeling of the House of Lords," to the earl 
 of Carnwath and Lord Widdrington, but the three
 
 WINIFRED, COUNTESS OF MTHSDALE. 223 
 
 other noblemen were left for execution ; and to render 
 further efforts in their behalf impossible, orders were 
 given to use all speed, and have the block and heads- 
 man in readiness at an hour's notice. 
 
 Deliverance, however, was at hand for one of these, 
 though for one only. When svery other means had 
 failed ; when the most energetic and resolute men had 
 ceased further endeavour, in despair ; when between 
 life and the prisoner, hope was scarcely as the drifting 
 plank to the drowning mariner, it was reserved for 
 the hand of a woman to snatch the man she loved 
 from the horrors of death, aggravated, inasmuch as 
 it was to be a violent one, and that of a " traitor." 
 
 The young countess of Derwentwater, with plead- 
 ings full of a wife's wildest agony, had implored tlie 
 life of her husband, at the hands of the king ; the 
 duchesses of Cleveland and Bolton had exerted every 
 argument and entreaty, feminine invention could 
 devise. Lady Nithsdale also essayed the eloquence of 
 words and tears, but was destined to meet with no 
 better success. Let us review her history, upon 
 hearing of the imprisonment of her husband, up to 
 the night preceding the execution. 
 
 It was the depth of winter when news was brought 
 to Winifred Herbert, in Scotland, of the impeachment, 
 and probably impending fate of Lord Nithsdale. 
 Though snow was deep upon the ground, she hesitated 
 not a moment to join him in London, being informed 
 that her presence was anxiously anticipated by him,
 
 224 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 and proposing to share with him his captivity. " In 
 so great haste," she says in one of her letters, " had 
 my lord sent for me, that I had no time to settle 
 anything before leaving Scotland. I had in my hands 
 all the family papers ; I dared trust them to nobody. 
 My house might have been searched without warning ; 
 consequently, they were far from being secure there. 
 In this distress, I had the precaution to bury them 
 under-ground, and nobody but the gardener and my- 
 self knew where they were. I did the same with 
 other things of value. The event proved that I had 
 acted prudently. After my departure, they searched 
 the house, and God knows what might have transpired 
 from these papers." 
 
 The dearest possession of all to a mother's heart 
 Lady Nithsdale had also left behind ; and for his 
 safety and concealment she had endeavoured yet more 
 earnestly to provide. She had confided her only son 
 to the keeping of some friends in the neighbourhood, 
 as it was utterly impossible she could be burtheued 
 with a child during her hurried journey to the English 
 metropolis. 
 
 The distracted wife must have left home with no 
 very enviable emotions. Doubtful of the safety of the 
 boy she was leaving, during her enforced absence, 
 tremblingly anticipative of the worst intelligence 
 as to the future of the husband she was going to 
 rejoin, her troubles were augmented by the incle- 
 mency of the season. Arriving at York, she ww
 
 WINIFRED, COUNTESS OF NITHSDALE. 225 
 
 obliged to give up the conveyance in which she had 
 hitherto travelled, for the roads were impassable to 
 wheels. It was necessary to pursue her journey upon, 
 horseback ; but, notwithstanding all obstacles, she 
 succeeded in accomplishing it, and reached the Tower 
 in safety, where she demanded access to her hus- 
 band, and, after some difficulty, obtained permission 
 to see him daily, until the period for his execution 
 arrived. 
 
 At first, Lady Nithsdale, like Lady Derwentwater 
 and others, made earnest efforts to obtain the pardon 
 by means of an interview with the king, and the 
 presentation of various petitions to both Houses of 
 Parliament. She has herself recorded the ill success 
 with which she sought George I., and described 
 herself dressed mournfully in black, waylaying his 
 majesty on his way to the drawing-room, and hanging 
 to the skirts of his coat, from which abject position 
 she was more energetically than politely removed. 
 These endeavours occupied many days, and when it 
 became evident that further applications were utterly 
 fruitless, the devoted wife had only twenty-four hours 
 for the execution of a scheme she had long pon- 
 dered, the only hope that now remained to set him 
 at liberty. 
 
 She who aids her husband in escaping from the 
 penalties of high treason, becomes amenable to simi- 
 lar punishment. Upon hearing the scheme of his 
 beloved Winifred, the earl of Nithsdale was horror- 
 Q
 
 226 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 stnick at the idea of compromising her safety, but 
 her eloquence and sanguine energy prevailed, and at 
 last he was persuaded to consent to the project she 
 had in view, though it doubtless appeared to him 
 wild, if not impracticable. As the countess has 
 detailed, in a letter to her sister, the circumstances 
 of this extraordinary enterprise, we cannot do better 
 than give it in her own words : 
 
 " As the motion had passed generally that the 
 petition should be read in the Lords, I thought 
 I would draw thence some advantage to my design. 
 Accordingly, I left the House of Lords, and hastened 
 to the Tower, where, affecting an air of joy and satis- 
 faction, I told all the guards I passed, that I came to 
 bring joyful tidings to the prisoner. I desired them 
 to lay aside their fears, for the petition had passed 
 the House in their favour. I then gave them some 
 money to drink to the lords and his majesty, though 
 it was but ti-ifling ; for I thought that if I were too 
 liberal on the occasion, they would suspect my designs, 
 and that giving them something would gain their good- 
 humour and services for the next day, which was the 
 eve of the execution. The next morning I could not 
 go to the Tower, having so many things on my hands 
 to put in readiness ; but in the evening, when all 
 was ready, I sent for Mrs. Mills, with whom I lodged, 
 and acquainted her with my design of attempting my 
 lord's escape, as there was no prospect of his being 
 pardoned ; and this was the last night before the
 
 WINIFRED, COUNTESS OP NITHSDALB. 227 
 
 execution. I told her that I had everything in rea- 
 diness, and that I trusted she would not refuse to 
 accompany me, that my lord might pass for her. I 
 pressed her to come immediately, as we had no time 
 to lose. At the same time, I sent for a Mrs. Morgan, 
 then usually known by the name of Hilton, to whom 
 I immediately communicated my resolution. She was 
 of a very tall and slender make ; so I begged her to 
 put under her own riding-hood one that I had pre- 
 pared for Mrs. Mills, as she was to lend hers to my 
 lord. When we were in the coach, I never ceased 
 talking, that they might have no leisure to reflect. 
 Their surprise and astonishment, when I first opened 
 my design to them, had made them consent, without 
 ever thinking of the consequences. 
 
 "On our arriving at the Tower, the first I intro- 
 duced was Mrs. Morgan ; for I was only allowed to 
 take one in at a time. She brought in the clothes 
 that w*re to serve Mrs. Mills, when she left her own 
 behind her. When Mrs. Morgan had taken off what 
 she had brought for my purpose, I conducted her back 
 to the staircase, and, in going, I begged her to send 
 me in my maid to dress me, that I was afraid of 
 being too late to present my last petition that night, 
 if she did not come immediately. I despatched her 
 safe, and went partly down stairs to meet Mrs. Mills, 
 who had the precaution to hold her handkerchief to 
 her face, as was very natural for a woman to do who 
 was going to bid her last farewell to a friend on the 
 Q 2
 
 228 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 eve of his execution. I had, indeed, desired her to do 
 it, that my lord might go out in the same manner. 
 Her eyebrows were rather inclined to be sandy, and 
 my lord's were dark and very thick ; however, I had 
 prepared some paint of the colour of hers, to disguise 
 them ; I also brought an artificial head-dress, of the 
 same coloured hair as hers, and painted his face with 
 white, and his cheeks with rouge, to hide his long 
 beard, which he had not time to shave. All this pro- 
 vision I had before left in the Tower. The poor guards, 
 whom my slight liberality the day before had endeared 
 me to, let me go quietly with my company, and were 
 not so strictly on the watch as they usually had been ; 
 and the more so as, from what I had told them the day 
 before, they were persuaded that the prisoners would 
 obtain their pardon. I made Mrs. Mills take off her 
 own hood and put on that which I had brought for 
 her. I then took her by the hand and led her out of 
 my lord's chamber ; and in passing through ijie next 
 room, in which there were several people, I said, with 
 all the concern imaginable, ' My dear Mrs. Catherine, 
 go in all haste and send me my waiting-maid ; she 
 certainly cannot reflect how late it is ; she forgets 
 that I am to present a petition to-night, and if I let 
 slip this opportunity I am undone, for to-morrow will 
 be too late. Hasten her as much as possible, for I 
 shall be on thorns till she comes.' Every person in 
 the room, chiefly the guards' wives and daughters, 
 seemed to compassionate me exceedingly, and the
 
 WINIFRED, COUNTESS OF NITHSDALE. 229 
 
 sentinel officiously opened the door. When I had 
 seen her out, I returned back to my lord, and finished 
 dressing him. I had taken care that Mrs. Mills did 
 not go out crying as she came in, that my lord might 
 the better pass for the lady, who came in crying and 
 afflicted, and the more so, because he had the same 
 dress on which she wore. When I had almost finished 
 dressing my lord in nearly all my petticoats, I per- 
 ceived that it was growing dark, and was afraid that 
 the light of the candles might betray us, so I resolved 
 to set out. I went out, leading him by the hand ; 
 and he held his handkerchief to his eyes. I spoke 
 to him in the most piteous and afflicted tone of 
 voice, bewailing bitterly the negligence of Evans 
 (the domestic), who had ruined me by her delay. 
 ' Then,' said I, ' my dear Mrs. Betty, for the love 
 of God, run quickly, and bring her with you. You 
 know my lodging ; and if ever you made despatch 
 in your life, do it at present, for I am almost dis- 
 tracted with this disappointment.' The guards opened 
 the doors, and I went down stairs with him, still con- 
 uring him to make all possible despatch. As soon as 
 he had cleared the door, I made him walk before me, 
 for fear the sentinel should take notice of his gait ; 
 but I still continued to press him to make all th 
 haste he possibly could. At the bottom of the steps 
 I met my dear Evans, into whose hands I confided 
 him." 
 
 It will be seen from Lady Nithsdale's recital, that
 
 230 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 she adopted the plan not of remaining in her husband's 
 stead, but the yet more perilous undertaking of leav- 
 ing the prison herself after his escape was achieved. 
 And this, which appears at first sight utterly imprac- 
 ticable, she positively accomplished. When she re- 
 turned alone to her husband's cell, after escorting the 
 pretended lady down stairs, four persons had left the 
 prison, while only three had originally entered it. It 
 is astonishing that this circumstance should have 
 passed unobserved. For his lordship, he found Mr. 
 Mills, the husband of one of his lady visitors, in atten- 
 dance, and was speedily placed in safety, as far as that 
 could be done ; but his courageous wife's liberty was 
 not yet effected. We again take up her account of 
 the affair. 
 
 " In the meanwhile, as I had pretended to have 
 sent the young lady on a message, I was obliged to 
 return up stairs, and go back to my lord's room in the 
 same feigned anxiety of being too late ; so that every- 
 body seemed sincerely to sympathize with my distress. 
 When I was in the room I talked to him as if he had 
 been really present ; and answered my own questions 
 in my lord's voice, as nearly as I could imitate it. I 
 walked up and down as if we were conversing to- 
 gether, till I thought they had time enough thoroughly 
 to clear themselves of the guards. I then thought 
 proper to make off too." 
 
 We may faintly picture the anxious countenance of 
 this fair tactician as she now opened the door, and
 
 WINIFRED, COUNTESS OF NITHSDALE. 231 
 
 stood for a moment, apparently wishing his lordship 
 farewell for the night. How her heart must have 
 throbbed as she endeavoured to steady her voice, and 
 said " that some extraordinary circumstance must 
 have occurred to render Evans remiss in obeying her 
 mistress's instructions ; that there was no resource but 
 to go in person, but that, if possible, he might expect 
 her again before the Tower gates were closed ; if not, 
 the first thing on the ensuing morning, when she 
 trusted she should be the bearer of favourable news. 
 Before shutting the door, Lady Nithsdale pulled the 
 string through which held up the latch, so that it 
 could not be opened from the outside. She appears 
 to have forgotten nothing. Then passing on, she de- 
 sired the servant, who was ignorant of the whole plot, 
 not to carry in lights until his master summoned him, 
 as his lordship had not finished his devotions. Boldly 
 now she passed down stairs, called a coach, and drove 
 home to her lodgings, " where poor Mr. Mackenzie 
 had been waiting to carry the petition, in case my 
 attempt failed. I told him there was no need of any 
 petition, as my lord was safe out of the hands of his 
 enemies, but where I knew not." 
 
 With admirable presence of mind had the Countess 
 of Nithsdale taken her measures ; nor after success 
 was realised did she relax in maintaining all necessary 
 precautions. For two days the earl remained hidden ; 
 and then putting on livery was conveyed, with the 
 Venetian ambassador's suite, to Dover, where he em
 
 232 DOMESTIC HEROIXES. 
 
 barked without meeting any hinderance whatever, and 
 reached Calais, after so favourable a voyage that the 
 captain remarked, being in perfect ignorance whom 
 he had on board, that " if his passengers were flying 
 for their lives, the boat could not have gone quicker/' 
 The remaining two prisoners, Lords Kenmure and Der- 
 wentwater, suffered the terrible fate which their com- 
 panion had escaped so narrowly, the following morning. 
 The second, gallant, courteous, and young, was " per- 
 haps the most interesting victim of this attempted 
 revolution." 
 
 Though she had thus happily compassed her hus- 
 band's deliverance, the task of our heroine was not yet 
 finished ; and she hastened to carry out the remainder 
 of her schemes of domestic happiness, which involved 
 both the restoration of her son to the arms of his 
 parents, and the recovery of the family papers. These 
 last, as we have seen, were consigned to the care of the 
 gardener, who had buried them in a spot known only 
 to his mistress. Lady Nithsdale lost no time in 
 travelling homewards ; and though her only escort 
 consisted of her own female attendants, and a reward 
 was set upon her detention, she managed to reach 
 the family estate. Upon arriving, this energetic 
 woman found news had travelled with less despatch ; 
 and she was enabled, by appearing to have Govern- 
 ment sanction for so doing, to obtain admission to the 
 house, for the purpose of arranging matters there. A 
 few hours sufficed to dispose of the important papers,
 
 WINIFRED, COUNTESS OF NITHSDALE. 233 
 
 and prepare her child for his journey. The next 
 morning she set out on her return to England, just as 
 suspicions were becoming general as to the actual 
 possession of any permission but that of her own free 
 will for her presence in Scotland. 
 
 It may be readily imagined that the king waxec* 
 wroth at the continued defiance at which his fair sub- 
 ject set him. George I. had been informed of her 
 journey to Scotland, and as he had expressly declared 
 that she must be answerable with her life, if found in 
 his dominions, the greatest caution was necessary, to 
 avoid discovery during the remainder of her stay. 
 Yet, despite all, this brave woman, who, according to 
 the royal declaration, " had given him more anxiety 
 and trouble than any other in Europe," remained 
 " perdue" for nearly a fortnight in London, at the end 
 of which time, pursuit having cooled, she embarked 
 with her son for France, whither she arrived in safety. 
 Here she had the happiness of rejoining the man, for 
 whose life she had so energetically and successfully 
 battled ; nor is it on record that they were ever again 
 divided. Italy offered a secure retreat to the pro- 
 scribed pair, and they continued to reside there until 
 the death of Lady Nithsdale, which preceded that of 
 her husband by a few years only. From the lively 
 narrative she has left us of this most exciting event of 
 her life, we can imagine that her reminiscences of that 
 " hair-breadth 'scape," her felicitations on the success 
 of her stratagems, and gratitude to the Providence
 
 234 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 which had sustained her, must have been mingled with 
 many a bit of feminine merriment at the king's signal 
 defeat. Her adroitness and ingenuity took by force, 
 what he refused to her earnest prayers. Nor can we 
 believe that, in after-life, she regretted the occasion 
 which had furnished her with a means of proving the 
 intensity of her love, and the pertinacity of her deter 
 nrination. The oft-quoted line, 
 
 " If she will, she will, you may depend on't," 
 
 would, indeed, have made an excellent motto for the 
 Countess of Nithsdale. 
 
 She breathed her last in Rome, a city whose bright- 
 est annals of antiquity, her heroic and devoted nature 
 would not have dishonoured,
 
 " Accustom your children to a strict attention to Truth, 
 even in the most minute particulars. If a thing happened at 
 one window, and they, when relating it, say that it happened at 
 another, do not let it pass, but instantly check them : you do 
 not know where deviations from Truth will end." JOHNSON.
 
 (THE JEANIE DEANS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.) 
 BORN 1710. DIED 1791. 
 
 AMONG the Waverley series, there is scarcely any 
 novel so remarkable for pathos and interest as the 
 " Ileart of Mid Lothian," certainly none which com- 
 mands more general admiration. This is as much 
 owing to the simple and striking tale, forming its 
 groundwork, as to the powers of the novelist ; and the 
 pleasure afforded by its perusal is enhanced by the 
 circumstance now pretty generally known that the 
 heroine is no fictitious personage, nor the recital 
 which has immortalized her name, other than a far 
 from highly coloured narrative of the facts, as they 
 actually occurred. 
 
 The main features of the story first came under the 
 notice of a lady, wife of Thomas Goldie, Esq., Com- 
 missary of Dumfries, some years after it had occurred.
 
 238 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 They excited her interest so greatly, that she sought 
 and obtained ampler particulars, which many years 
 afterwards she was led to communicate to Sir "Walter 
 Scott. Within a few months of their correspondence, 
 the " Heart of Mid Lothian" appeared, and she had 
 the pleasure of learning from its pages, to which the 
 whole interesting incidents had been transferred, how 
 fully her appreciation and enthusiasm had been shared. 
 The facts were briefly as follows. 
 
 In the early part of the last century, there lived in 
 the hamlet of Irongray, near Dumfries, the widow of 
 a small farmer, named Walker. This poor woman 
 was, from ill health or some other unexplained cause, 
 mainly dependent for subsistence upon the elder of 
 her two daughters, Helen, whose unremitting exer- 
 tions, so long as her mother lived, supported the 
 little family in respectability and comfort. Mrs. Walker 
 however, soon followed her husband to the grave. She 
 died, bequeathing her younger child to the care of the 
 elder ; and Helen, on her part, made a solemn vow to 
 take care of and educate the little Isabel, a duty she 
 faithfully performed. The girl grew up, beautiful and 
 affectionate ; but a terrible blow was in store for her 
 affectionate protectress. Helen Walker had fondly 
 imagined herself the depositary of every confidence, 
 almost of every thought, of this young sister : what 
 must have been her horror when the delusion was 
 rudely dispelled, and she beheld the being whom she 
 had regarded as no less innocent than confiding,
 
 HELEN WALKER. 239 
 
 accused of the most frightful crime of which woman is 
 capable, the murder of her own child ! Poor Helen ! 
 one fatal morning the officers of justice surrounded her 
 humble abode. The evidence was too conclusive ; no 
 doubt of Isabel's guilt appeared reasonable, and our 
 heroine had the fearful trial of seeing her beloved 
 sister dragged away to prison. 
 
 Nor was this all. The heart-stricken orphan had 
 scarcely recovered from the effect of the first agonizing 
 shock, than another was added. She was informed 
 that her evidence would be required, that she would 
 be called as the principal witness, and unless she 
 would consent to speak an untruth, that evidence 
 would be the most conclusive in condemning her 
 sister to the scaffold. The counsel for the prisoner 
 stated to her the circumstances upon which the law 
 acts, and gave her to understand that one means 
 existed by which the unhappy girl might escape. 
 " If," said he, " you can declare that Isabel made the 
 slightest preparation for her expected babe, or that 
 she informed you, by the merest chance word, of the 
 circumstances in which she was placed, such a state- 
 ment will save your sisters life /" " I cannot," she 
 replied, " not even to save her, will I swear a false- 
 hood ; whatever may be the consequence, I must give 
 my oath according to my conscience." 
 
 It was to no purpose that the unfortunate 
 I?abel used every entreaty to shake her sister's re- 
 solution. Though sorely moved, Helen continued
 
 240 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 inflexible. The interval before the trial came on, 
 must have been harrowing in the extreme ; it elapsed. 
 Isabel was tried for her life, found guilty, and con- 
 demned to die. Coming away from the court, she 
 accosted her sister, in terms of reproachful despair. 
 " Oh ! Nelly, ye have been the cause of my death." 
 " Alas ! " was the melancholy response, " ye ken I but 
 speak the truth." 
 
 And now all was decided, and hope seemed banished 
 from her Isabel, the child of her adoption, as well 
 as her beloved sister. Poor Helen forthwith put 
 in practice a scheme which she had formed, scarcely 
 daring to trust it might be successful in accomplish- 
 ing the deliverance of the one so dear to her, from 
 a death of agony and shame. Without a moment's 
 delay she drew up a petition, setting forth the bar- 
 rowing circumstances of the case ; and finding six 
 weeks must elapse before the sentence could be carried 
 into effect, she left Dumfries that same night, having 
 borrowed from some friendly hand the sum neces- 
 sary to defray her expenses on the road to London. 
 Barefooted she commenced her long and solitary 
 journey, and entered London, exhausted but not 
 dispirited, in the shortest possible time she could 
 have walked thither, without introduction or recom- 
 mendation of any kind, utterly friendless, and as to 
 human aid alone ! 
 
 Advice of some kind she must, however, have 
 possessed, for the result proved she took the best
 
 HELEN WALKER. 241 
 
 possible means of attaining the object she had in 
 view, the liberation of her unfortunate sister. Upon 
 arriving in London, she went at once to the house of 
 the duke of Argyle, her countryman ; and, though 
 provided with no letters or influential documents, 
 managed to obtain an interview with him. She 
 entered, wrapped in her Highland plaid, faint with 
 fatigue, and carrying a statement of Isabel's unhappy 
 case in her hand. She afterwards referred gratefully 
 to the strength with which God endues those who 
 trust in Him. If she had lost heart at this critical 
 moment, and abandoned her purpose, the only chance 
 for the preservation of her sister's life would have 
 been forfeited. As it was, the untaught Scottish girl 
 advanced the simple arguments her heart suggested, 
 with such convincing energy, that the nobleman 
 whose interest she came to supplicate, embraced her 
 cause with all the warmth of a generous nature. His 
 representations were favourably received, to Helen's 
 inexpressible joy the pardon was consigned to her 
 care, and she was enabled to return to Dumfries, still 
 on foot, in time to save her sister's life. 
 
 It is pleasing to find the unfortunate girl, whose sin 
 had so nearly been expiated on the scaffold, retained to 
 the end of her days a deep gratitude for Helen's heroic 
 efforts, as well as a full sense of the high principle 
 she had evinced in refusing to declare a falsehood, 
 even to save a life as dear to her as her own. 
 Isabel married the father of her child, and lived in 
 P
 
 242 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 plenty at Whitehaven, -whence presents often found 
 their way to the secluded nook in which her elder 
 sister dwelt. It may be interesting to take a peep at 
 the latter in after-years, still labouring for her own 
 subsistence, which, to her independent and lofty spirit, 
 was, thus attained, far preferable to living on the 
 bread of charity. Mrs. Goldie, "an amiable and in- 
 genious lady," whose wit, and power of remarking 
 and judging character, still survive in the memory 
 of her friends, furnished Sir Walter Scott with the 
 following facts : 
 
 u I had taken for summer lodgings a cottage near 
 the old abbey of Lincluden. It had formerly been 
 inhabited by a lady who had pleasure in embellishing 
 cottages, which she found, perhaps, homely and poor 
 enough. Mine possessed many marks of taste and 
 elegance, unusual in this species of habitation in 
 Scotland, where a cottage is literally what its name 
 declares. From my cottage door I had a partial 
 view of the old abbey before mentioned ; some of 
 the highest arches were seen over, and some through, 
 the trees scattered along a lane which led down to the 
 ruin, and the strange fantastic shapes of almost all 
 those old ashes accorded wonderfully well with the 
 building they at once shaded and ornamented. The 
 abbey itself, from my door, was almost on a level with 
 the cottage, but on coming to the end of the lane, it 
 was discovered to be situated on a high perpen- 
 dicular bank, at the foot of which ran the clear waters
 
 HELEN WALKER. 243 
 
 of the Cludcn, when they hasten to join the sweeping 
 
 Kith, 
 
 ' Whose distant roaring swells the fa's.' 
 
 As my kitchen and parlour were not very far distant, 
 I one day went in to purchase some chickens from a 
 person I heard offering them for sale. It was a little, 
 rather stout-looking woman, who seemed to be between 
 seventy and eighty years of age ; she was almost 
 covered with a tartan plaid, and her cap had over it 
 a black silk hood tied under the chin, a piece of dress 
 still much in use among elderly women of that rank of 
 life in Scotland : her eyes were dark, and remarkably 
 lively and intelligent. I entered into conversation 
 with her, and began by asking how she maintained 
 herself, &c. She said that in winter she footed stock- 
 ings ; that is, knit feet to country people's stockings, 
 which bears about the same relation to stocking-knit- 
 ting that cobbling does to shoemaking, and is, of 
 course, both less profitable and less dignified ; she 
 likewise taught a few children to read ; and in sum- 
 mer she ' whiles reared a wheeu chickens.' 
 
 " I said I could venture to guess from her face she 
 had never married. She laughed heartily at this, and 
 said, ' I maun hae the queerest face that ever was seen, 
 that ye could guess that. Now do tell me, madam, 
 how ye came to think sae ? ' I told her it was from 
 her cheerful, disengaged countenance. She said, ' Mem, 
 have ye na far mair reason to be happy than me, wi 
 a gude husband, and a tine family o' bairns, and plen ty 
 B 2
 
 244 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 o' everything 1 For me, I am the puirest of a' puir 
 bodies, and can hardly contrive to keep myself alive 
 in a' the wee bit o' -ways I hae tell't ye.' After some 
 further conversation, during which I was more and more 
 pleased with the old woman's plain common sense, 
 and the naivete of her remarks, she rose to go away, 
 when I asked her name. Her countenance suddenly 
 clouded, and she said gravely, rather colouring, ' My 
 name is Helen, Walker ; but your husband kens weel 
 about me.' 
 
 " In the evening I related how much I had been 
 pleased, and inquired what was extraordinary in the 
 
 history of the poor woman. Mr. said, ' There 
 
 were perhaps few more remarkable people than Helen 
 Walker ; ' and he gave the history which has already 
 been related here." 
 
 The writer continues : " I was so strongly in- 
 terested by this narrative, that I determined imme- 
 diately to prosecute my acquaintance with Helen 
 Walker ; but, as I was to leave the country next day, 
 I was obliged to defer it until my return in spring, 
 when the first walk I took was to Helen Walker's cot- 
 tage. She had died a short time before. My regret 
 was extreme, and I endeavoured to obtain some ac- 
 count of Helen from an old woman who inhabited the 
 other end of her cottage. I inquired if Helen ever 
 spoke of her past history, her journey to London, tfcc. 
 ' Na,' the old woman said, ' Helen was a wiley body, 
 and whene'er any o' the neebors asked anything about
 
 HELEN WALKER. 245 
 
 it, she aye turned the conversation.' In short, every 
 answer I received only tended to increase my regret, 
 and raise my opinion of Helen Walker, who could 
 unite so much prudence with so much heroic virtue." 
 The same lady endeavoured to discover elsewhere 
 particulars of Helen's early career, but without 
 success. An old woman, distantly related to the 
 sisters, and who was accustomed to do harvest work 
 with them, was interrogated, but affirmed that she 
 never dared ask for any information connected with 
 either the trial of the younger, or the elder's exertions 
 in her behalf. "Helen was a lofty body," she said, "and 
 used a high style of language." It was evident her 
 relation was a little afraid of her ; indeed, so great 
 was the natural dignity of character she exemplified, 
 as well as bitter her sense of the degradation her 
 family, formerly so respectable and upright, had sus- 
 tained, that she shrank from discussing the tale with 
 a delicacy very rarely met with in the rank of life to 
 which she belonged ; though, it must be confessed, 
 when we remember that Scotland is the soil that 
 nurtured this sensitive spirit, our feeling of astonish- 
 ment at the description of pride she evinced be- 
 comes less extreme. Not the least interesting trait 
 in her character was the childlike faith in the God she 
 unostentatiously worshipped. " A small table, with 
 a large open Bible, invariably occupied one corner of 
 her room ; and she was constantly observed stealing a 
 glance reading a text or a chapter, as her avocations
 
 246 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 permitted her time ; and it was her habit, when it 
 thundered, to take her work and her Bible to the 
 front of the cottage, alleging that the Almighty could 
 smite in the city as well as the field." 
 
 Obviously the benefits arising from the considera- 
 tion of a character, are not single but multiform. The 
 same person seen in different aspects, presents, like a 
 prism, various hues ; and excellence depends upon the 
 number and beauteous harmony of these. Moreover, 
 contrasts powerfully enhance the aspects of virtue ; 
 and so, when we think of Helen Walker, poor, yet 
 strong in Truth, the very quality which poverty most 
 assails, morally courageous, thongh femininely weak, 
 we acknowledge each phase of her life abounds with 
 a practical lesson, the most striking of all being, that 
 God upholdeth the righteous. 
 
 Twenty-six years elapsed between Mrs. Goldie's 
 first interview with Helen Walker, near the ruined 
 abbey of Lincluden, and her communicating them to 
 Sir Walter Scott. During that interval, this true 
 heroine of domestic life had quitted the existence 
 the real value of which she had so correctly estimated. 
 She was buried in the churchyard of Trongray ; and 
 the monument Mrs. Goldie once intended to raise over 
 her remains was eventually placed there by the same 
 hand which had immortalized her name and history. 
 As the composition of the great novelist, the inscrip- 
 tion which records the fact is worth inserting here.
 
 HELEN WALKER. 247 
 
 This stone was erected 
 
 by the Author of "Waverley," 
 
 to the memory of 
 
 HELEN WALKER, 
 
 who died in the year of God MDCCXC1. 
 
 This humble individual 
 
 practised in real life 
 
 the virtues 
 
 with which fiction has invested 
 the imaginary character of 
 
 JEANIE DEANS, 
 refusing the slightest departure 
 
 from veracity, 
 
 even to save the life of her sister ; 
 
 she, nevertheless, showed her 
 
 kindness and fortitude 
 
 in rescuing her 
 
 from the severity of the law, 
 
 at the expense of personal exertions, 
 
 which the time rendered as difficult 
 
 as the motive was laudable. 
 
 Respect the grave of Poverty, 
 
 when combined with the love of Truth 
 
 and dear Affection ! 
 
 "We may add, that it has been remarked : " Jeanie 
 Deans is recompensed by her biographer, for the trials 
 through which he leads her, with a full measure of 
 earthly comfort ; for few novelists dare venture to 
 make virtue its own reward ; yet the following reflec- 
 tion shows him to have felt how little the ordinary 
 course of Providence is in accordance with man's 
 natural wishes, and his expectations of a splendid
 
 248 DOMESTIC HEKOINES. 
 
 temporal reward of goodness : ' That a character so 
 distinguished for her undaunted love of virtue, lived 
 and died in poverty, if not want, serves only to show 
 us how insignificant in the sight of Heaven are our 
 principal objects of ambition upon earth.' " 
 
 It might have been added that the divine care is mani- 
 fested as often by denials as by gifts, and that as that 
 weather would be the worst which the farmer some- 
 times ungratefully dares to dictate, so the storms of a 
 man's trials would be overwhelming if wafted upon the 
 gales of his wishes. "We should limit our desires to 
 the simple one of doing good, and then, at the close of 
 life, the gratitude of the young for our counsel, and of 
 the poor and bereaved for our sympathy, would be a 
 nobler monument and more durable than Parian or 
 Italian marble. This virtuous fame it was Helen 
 Walker's principle to seek, and she attained it.
 
 Jfhra 
 
 'Ti8 such as thou, 
 
 Who from affection serve, and freeborn zeal 
 To guard whate'er is dear and sacred to them, 
 That are a king's best honour and defence."
 
 Jflara 
 
 BOBN 1720. DIED 1790. 
 
 Ax the extremity of Loch Shiel, in the secluded 
 valley of Glenfinnan, the traveller's attention will be 
 drawn to a pillar erected in commemoration of the 
 landing of Charles Edward, generally called the 
 " Young Pretender," upon the native shores of the 
 Stuarts. This memento was placed there by a mem- 
 ber of the same family, which had the honour of 
 enumerating amongst its scions, the well-known and 
 heart- stirring name of Flora Macdonald. Hither, 
 where Charles elevated his first standard, came many 
 a true heart and bold hand. 
 
 The entire clan of Macdonald was secretly favour- 
 able to the pretensions of the prince, but only a portion 
 openly espoused his cause. The brother of our young 
 heroine, Macdonald of Milton, and her step-father, 
 also bearing the same name Flora had lost her own 
 lat.her when a child were among those who deemed
 
 252 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the present enterprise, if not rash and premature, at 
 least ill-oi'ganized, and certainly more than doubtful 
 of success. They refrained, therefore, though anxiously 
 interested in every detail of the coming contest, from 
 any direct partisanship ; but the feelings of regard 
 entertained by them for the Stuart cause, were gene- 
 rally understood. 
 
 The history of Charles Edward up to the battle of 
 Culloden is too fully known to need recapitulation. 
 After that fatal encounter, the prince, escaping with 
 difficulty from the scene of his defeat, withdrew to 
 the house of Lord Lovat, where his arrival is thus 
 recorded by Sir Walter Scott : " A lady who, when a 
 girl, was residing in Lord Lovat's family, described to 
 us the unexpected appearance of Prince Charles and 
 his flying attendants at Castle Dounie. The wild, 
 desolate vale on which she was gazing with indolent 
 composure, was at once so suddenly filled with horse- 
 men riding furiously towards the castle, that, impressed 
 with the belief that they were fairies, who, according 
 to Highland tradition, are visible to men from one 
 twinkle of the eyelid to another, she strove to refrain 
 from the vibration which she believed would occasion 
 the strange and magnificent apparition to become in- 
 visible. To Lord Lovat it brought a certainty more 
 dreadful than the presence of fairies, or even demons. 
 The tower on which he had depended, had fallen to 
 crush him, and he only met the Chevalier to exchange 
 mutual condolences."
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 253 
 
 Not long did Charles linger at Castle Dounie, but, 
 departing as soon as the darkness permitted, travelled 
 across the mountains to Invergarie, the neighbourhood 
 of Fort Augustus, which had been set in flames by a 
 body of Highlanders the day previous to the battle. 
 Here the last hopes of the young aspirant were crushed, 
 if not the lingering spark of that ambitious flame 
 which had animated him, extinguished. One by one 
 his followers dropped off; those who had for the last 
 few months perilled life and limb to restore him to the 
 crown of his fathers, came silently to bid him adieu, or 
 slunk stealthily away, until the fugitive was left with 
 his two friends only, O'Sullivan and O'Neil ; the 
 three being attended by a single servant, named 
 Burke, who, knowing the country well, was to assist 
 them also iu the capacity of guide. 
 
 From Invergarie to Lochaber, and thence to Glen- 
 boisdale, the little party stole, ensconcing themselves, 
 when danger approached, in caves, afforded by the 
 rocks, and among trees or brushwood. While leading 
 this wandering and perilous life, the poor prince had 
 full leisure to observe the calamities which, through 
 his instrumentality, overwhelmed the unfortunate 
 Highlanders. Parties of soldiers scoured the country 
 in every direction, ravaging the domains of all suspected 
 persons, and indulging in all the ferocious license of 
 triumphant cruelty. In many places the flying clans 
 were hunted down like wild beasts, smothered in the 
 holes where they endeavoured to conceal themselves,
 
 25 i DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 or dislodged only to fall upon the bayonets of their 
 southern foes. The duke of Cumberland, one of 
 whose adherent volunteers has recorded his chieftain's 
 and his own opinion, that "the Highlands, with their 
 black mountains, and streams of water rolling down 
 them, were a sight sufficient to give a well-bred dog 
 the vapours," was anxious to leave this wild and 
 uncongenial country ; to finish his work, and exter- 
 minate every supposed partisan of his unfortunate 
 cousin. He had declared that " every man wearing 
 the tartan in those parts, was a rebel and a traitor, 
 whose body, soul, and goods were forfeited." The 
 soldiers plundered, killed, and swept the country 
 completely bare of everything, so that the wretched 
 inhabitants who escaped the sword, perished of hunger; 
 and it was no uncommon spectacle to see men, women, 
 and children, following the robbers who had invaded 
 their homesteads, " imploring for the offal of their own 
 black cat tie," slaughtered for the use of the duke's array. 
 
 When, in addition to this rigour, it is remembered 
 that the English government had set a price of 
 thirty thousand pounds upon the Pretender's head, his 
 chances of escape will be considered proportionately 
 small. 
 
 The object the young prince had in view was, if 
 possible, to procure the aid of a French vessel, which 
 should convey him back to his friends in that country ; 
 but it was no easy matter even to make such inquiries 
 as should lead to such timely succour. In disguise,
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 255 
 
 and without further escort than his two faithful 
 friends and the servant Burke, Charles at length 
 obtained, by the help of Macdonald of Borradale, an 
 open eight-oared boat, in which he embarked one even- 
 ing, about ten days from the date of Culloden, for 
 Long Island, where it was hoped a French vessel might 
 be found. 
 
 Long Island is the term employed to designate the 
 isles of North Uist, Benbecula, and South Uist, belong- 
 ing to the group called the Hebrides. These larger 
 ones are connected by small islets, giving the appear- 
 ance of continuous land from end to end. Of the 
 Hebrides, or Western Isles, Lewis is the largest, and 
 lies to the north of the others. Opposite South Uist, 
 in an easterly direction, lies also another of the most 
 conspicuous of the group, Skye, famed of late years 
 for its breed of ugly little dogs. 
 
 Nothing could be more wildly picturesque than the 
 appearance of these islands : rocks, mountains, desolate 
 heaths, and dark morasses, the very sight of which 
 chilled the warm life within the traveller's breast, were 
 only occasionally varied by an ill-kept farm or rudely- 
 built village. The inhabitants were hopelessly poor 
 and illiterate, scarcely capable of supporting their 
 wretched families upon the scanty profits of cattle 
 bred upon a pasture so stunted and rare, that it was 
 a wonder they existed at all ; but one grand qualifica- 
 tion these simple people possessed. Their attachment 
 to their chief was unbounded, their reliance a species of
 
 236 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 infallible belief, and their obedience to his will, blind, 
 unquestioning, and to the death. 
 
 Upon this wild spot, and among the peasant popula- 
 tion, Charles Edward was now thrown, to pass, as it 
 turned out, many months of doubt, suspense, and 
 danger. Scarcely had the fugitives set forth in their 
 humble boat, before a tremendous storm arose. The 
 night was pitch dark, the wind burst in gales, which 
 threatened at every moment to engulf them. At 
 length, more dead than alive, they gained the island, 
 whose rocky shore was even as perilous as the open 
 sea itself, and landed at Benbecula, a desolate place, 
 wholly devoid of any means of sustaining life. 
 
 Fortunately, the boat contained a supply of oat- 
 meal, and this, with the water of a neighbouring 
 brook, formed their entire support during the two 
 days they remained at Benbecula. On the third, the 
 tempest having in a measure subsided, they again put 
 off to sea ; but here their ill-fortune still pursued them, 
 and a fresh gale drove the vessel into the little island 
 of Glas. This second haven was not so inhospitable 
 as the first had been. An inhabitant, half-fisherman, 
 half-farmer, received and lent them a boat to proceed 
 to Lewis, whore he informed them a fishing-vessel at 
 the time was to be found ; and notice was sent to 
 Charles by the scouts he dispatched to ascertain the 
 fact, that the captain was willing that his craft should 
 be hired to convey the party away. To the prince's 
 consternation, however, he found, on reaching Lewis,
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 257 
 
 that his identity had been either discovei'ed or guessed 
 at, and the captain refused to carry out his agreement. 
 Again putting to sea, and doubtful in which direction 
 to proceed, they perceived two men-of-war, believed to 
 be English vessels, in the offing, and, fearful of being 
 captured, they hastened into the nearest island, "which 
 happened to be Issurt. Here they remained until the 
 suspicious ships (which, unforttmately, turned out 
 afterwards to be the very ones sent to the prince's 
 assistance by France, and containing money and arms 
 for his use) were out of sight. Their troubles were, 
 therefore, not nearly at an end. Another peril 
 assailed them. An English sloop of war was actu- 
 ally lying near the coast, and would have captured 
 them, had they not hastily pulled out of sight and 
 concealed themselves in a creek of North Uist, where, 
 finding a hut, they remained several days, with diffi- 
 culty supporting themselves upon some dried fish 
 which was providentially thrown in their way. 
 
 During this terrible interval, the health of Charles 
 nearly failed. Misfortune and hardship had completely 
 prostrated spirits usually buoyant ; and when, about 
 the middle of May, the wretched little party reached 
 the island of South Uist, it required all the hospitable 
 care of the Macdonald of Clanronald, who resided on 
 that island, at a place called Ormaclade, to recruit and 
 restore his visitors. But danger would have environed 
 not only the fugitive, but his kind entertainers also, if 
 he had remained in the house of this faithful adherent, 
 s
 
 258 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 To a hut, therefore, situated in a desolate spot among 
 the neighbouring mountains, the royal adventurer 
 repaired, and awaited, under the friendly care, not only 
 of the island's proprietor, but of every member of his 
 chieftaincy, the means of escaping to the continent. 
 
 When Charles made his appearance at the house of 
 Clanronald, he was in tattered clothing, and almost 
 barefoot. Supplied with every necessary, though con- 
 demned to the shelter of a miserable shed, and fearing 
 to stir beyond the vicinity of his humble abode, he yet 
 recovered, in a degree, his energies, and was compara- 
 tively strengthened to bear the intelligence, when it 
 arrived, that, so far from a prospect of escape to 
 France, his pursuers had gained tidings of his place 
 of refuge, and commissioned General Campbell, after- 
 wards duke of Argyle, to institute a rigorous search 
 throughout the island. In less time than he could 
 realize the approaching danger, Charles beheld himself 
 completely hemmed in by sea and land. Several ships 
 of war guarded the coast, and Campbell himself, 
 with a host of soldiers, scoured every probable re- 
 treat where the object of his search could be con- 
 cealed. 
 
 In this strait, the noble islanders, untutored and 
 primitive as they were, vied with each other in giving 
 every assistance to the efforts of their chieftain, to 
 preserve his guest's life. Although his retreat was per- 
 fectly well known to neai-ly every inhabitant of the 
 island, neither man, woman, nor child ever divulged
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 25 ( J 
 
 the secret : all were called into requisition, and each 
 fn his turn readily responded. 
 
 It chanced, at this time, that Flora, sister to the 
 Macdonald of Milton, also resident in the island, was 
 uoon a visit to her brother, and here became cognizant 
 of the perilous condition of the royal fugitive. Having 
 occasion to visit her relatives at Ormaclade, this young 
 lady, then in her twenty-fifth year, and possessed of a 
 spirit as heroic as the person enshrining it was youthful 
 and attractive, became much interested in the visits 
 of O'Neil to procure necessaries for the Chevalier, and, 
 before long, earnestly expressed her desire to be intro- 
 duced to him, and, if possible, to contribute to his 
 escape. It seems that O'Neil had previously met 
 Flora, and, from the estimate he had formed of her 
 capacity, led Charles's mind to dwell greatly upon 
 engaging her assistance, to rescue him from the im- 
 pending danger. 
 
 The stepfather of Miss Macdonald was, at the time, 
 employed as commander of the very body of soldiers 
 engaged in the pursuit. He was obliged to act so, in 
 obedience to the chief of his clan, the laird of Sleat, 
 which is the southern part of the island of Skye; but 
 he secretly endeavoured to assist the fugitive, and was 
 only too happy to afford his tacit consent to any plan 
 which might be originated for his deliverance. 
 
 It was a beautiful June evening when Flora's desire 
 to see the prince was carried into execution. O'^Neil 
 joined her at the house of one of her brother's m- 
 s 2
 
 260 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 tainers in Benbecula, leaving his companion concealed, 
 until he should have engaged Flora to consent to the 
 plan he had in view. He proposed that she should 
 disguise Charles as a female servant ; and, under 
 pretext of travelling with her maid, conduct him 
 in safety from Uist to the Isle of Skye ; whence 
 further measures could be taken to effect his complete 
 escape. 
 
 This was a proposition that Flora's maidenly deli- 
 cacy, as well as innate prudence, shrank from enter- 
 taining. She hesitated, and changed colour, avowing 
 her distrust in the wildness of the scheme, and her 
 fear of compromising her friends, Sir Alexander and 
 Lady Margaret Macdonald, by taking the fugitive 
 into their neighbourhood. O'Neil, with characteristic 
 Irish tact, however, so worked upon the young lady's 
 feelings, by the production of his hapless prince just 
 at the proper moment, that poor Flora's resolutions 
 melted away before the sight of a figure so at- 
 tenuated, and a countenance so impressed by grief 
 and despair, as those now presented to her sym- 
 pathetic gaze. She consented, after a brief interval, 
 to extend the required aid, and henceforth entered 
 heart and soul into the spirit of the enterprise. 
 
 It may be well in this place to give a slight sketch 
 of the physical characteristics of Charles Edward, at a 
 period so critical to his life and fortunes. 
 
 Born in the year 1720, the prince was now exactly 
 twenty-five, and appears to have been, if not a model
 
 FLORA MACDOXALD. 261 
 
 of manly elegance, at least striking in appearance and 
 demeanour. He was tall and well made, though not 
 
 * O 
 
 robust; his countenance was handsome, and its ex- 
 pression remarkably agreeable and winning. He had 
 regular features, lively and intelligent eyes, and a 
 peculiarity of contour, which made him say of himself, 
 " that he had so odd a face, that no man ever saw 
 him once without knowing him again," yet one of 
 anything but an unpleasiug character, if we may 
 judge from the almost universal admiration he at this 
 time excited. A Highland officer, himself a Mac- 
 donald, thus describes his appearance, in a journal 
 preserved among the Lockhart papers: " About half 
 an hour after the return of Clanronald, there entered 
 the tent a pale youth, of a most agreeable aspect, in a 
 plain blue coat, with a plain shirt, not very clean, and 
 a cambric stock fixed with a plain silver buckle, a fail- 
 round wig out of the buckle, a plain hat with a can- 
 vas string, having one end tied to one of his coat 
 buttons ; he had black silk stockings, and brass 
 buckles in his shoes. At his first appearance I found 
 my heart swell." Another authority says, he was 
 " tall, handsome, of a fair complexion, and wore the 
 Highland dress, with a star of St. Andrew at his 
 breast. The Jacobites compared him to Robert Bruce, 
 whom he resembled, as they thought, in figure and in 
 fortune." That his exterior was prepossessing, indeed, 
 cannot be doubted : even the Whigs allowed he looked 
 like a gentleman and a man of fashion ; though neither
 
 262 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 they, nor many others, gave him credit for being a hero. 
 How impulsive he was, might have been seen from 
 the first glance at his countenance ; but he was, as 
 might be expected, rash also. As to the question of 
 bravely, authorities vary ; but whatever his short- 
 comings were in that point of view, there is no reason 
 f doubt that they proceeded less from anything in 
 the shape of cowardice, than from his entire want of 
 the capacity and experience essential to a general. 
 
 It unfortunately happened that the education of the 
 young prince had been singularly defective ; so that, 
 mentally, he was considerably inferior to the ex- 
 pectations his appearance was calculated to excite. 
 Those who beheld him enter the court-yard of Holy- 
 rood mounted on horseback, a position which showed 
 off his graceful figure and bearing to the greatest 
 advantage ; the noble dames, who " trod a measure " 
 with him in the palace ball-room that same evening, 
 were somewhat disenchanted upon discovering that 
 their would-be sovereign was perfectly ignorant of 
 some of the commonest elements of knowledge, and 
 found a difficulty in writing an ordinary letter, either 
 in French, Italian, or English, without committing 
 gross errors in orthography. 
 
 The ill success of his attempt upon the crown of 
 Britain might have been argued from the prince's 
 bearing upon this very occasion. It was observed, 
 that even in the triumphant hour, when about to 
 enter the palace of his fathers, the air of his counte-
 
 FLORA 11ACDOXALD. 263 
 
 nance was languid and melancholy. To succeed, we 
 must be ourselves confident, self-reliant. The defeat 
 that begins in. the heart, is one to which circum- 
 stances ofFer no retrieval. As well might the mesmeric 
 neophyte, whose will is not under his own control, 
 attempt to sway the actions, and regulate the volition, 
 of others. 
 
 When Flora Macdonald first saw poor Charles 
 Edward, the brilliant prestige of his first arrival had 
 passed away, together with the attractive charm of per- 
 sonal exterior. Weeks of harass and anxiety had taken 
 the colour from his cheek and the fire from his eye ; 
 privation, even actual want, had rendered him ema- 
 ciated : he was no longer the bold aspirant for the 
 throne of the Stuarts ; he was the defeated, the hunted 
 scion of the ex-royal family, struggling to sustain life 
 only, and with a price upon his head ! 
 
 In consequence of the stringent orders of govern- 
 ment respecting the Pretender's capture, no person was 
 permitted to leave the place without a pass from the 
 commander, to be produced, if required, to the guards 
 encircling the island. Spies, indeed, were placed on 
 sea and shore, for the purpose of watching every boat 
 which appeared. Upon leaving the prince, Misa 
 Macdonald and her servant were seized by a band 01 
 militia as they were crossing over from Benbecula to 
 South Uist ; but the difficulty which might have 
 ensued, was happily obviated by our heroine's dia- 
 covery that it was commanded by her step-father.
 
 264 DOMESTIC HEROIXES. 
 
 With little trouble she engaged his assistance, and 
 obtained from him a pass back to the island of Skye, 
 her mother's residence, accompanied by her man-ser- 
 vant, Neil Mackechan. Mention was also made in 
 the passport, of a third person, an Irish domestic, 
 named "Betty Burke," who was especially recom- 
 mended by Captain Macdonald to his wife, as an 
 "excellent spinner of flax, and a faithful servant." 
 This document obtained, Flora's next care was to 
 secure a boat, with a crew of six men, a supply of 
 provisions, and last, but most important of all, the 
 disguise intended to transform the elegant Prince 
 Charles, into a rough Irish maid of-all-work, and which 
 consisted of a printed linen gown, a white apron, and 
 head-gear. 
 
 The morning of the 27th of June was chosen for 
 their departure, and, accompanied by Lady Clanronald, 
 Miss Macdonald set out towards the sea-shore to meet 
 the object of her solicitude. They found the prirvTe 
 " roasting the liver of a sheep for his dinner," a sight 
 which brought the reverses of fortune forcibly to their 
 minds, and moved one of his gentle visitors " to tears." 
 That night an alarm, which drew the ladies back to 
 the house, prevented the boat from starting ; but the 
 next evening, all being in readiness, the prince as- 
 sumed his feminine apparel, and, exchanging his sword 
 for agood-sized walking-stick, embarked with his fair ally, 
 her servant Mackechan, and the six boatmen, for Skye. 
 
 It was not one of pleasure, this voyage, to a
 
 FLORA SIACDOXALD. 265 
 
 young and delicate woman, considering the number of 
 vessels lying all around, and whose shots it would be 
 probably difficult to avoid, if suspicion were excited ; 
 the distance to be accomplished, thirty or forty miles, 
 and the time, night. Soon rain began to fall ; the 
 skies and sea faded into one leaden expanse the boat- 
 men, wet and sulky, relapsed into perfect silence. The 
 voice of the young prince alone broke the stillness ; 
 and he, with a mixture of boyish vivacity and manly 
 tact, told story after story, and sang snatches of 
 songs, until he succeeded in dispelling the cloud 
 of anxiety which oppressed his fair companion, less 
 fearful for her own than for his safety. At length, 
 overpowered by fatigue, Flora insensibly abandoned 
 herself to the influence of the hour, and slept. Charles 
 continued a long while singing, in the hope of lulling 
 her to perfect repose ; and when, some time after, she 
 awoke, she found him watching her with the greatest 
 solicitude, endeavouring to screen her from the spray, 
 and to protect her from contact with the sails and 
 cordage. To her refreshment only, would he permit 
 a small quantity of wine, provided by Lady Clanronald, 
 to be appropriated. In after-years, she recalled these 
 circumstances with pleasure, and adduced them in 
 proof of the chivalric nature of him she had risked so 
 much to assist. 
 
 It must have been an unspeakable relief to the 
 occupants of that little boat, when the first dim lines 
 of light in the distant horizon announced the approach
 
 266 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 of morning. When clear enough to distinguish ob- 
 jects, they discovered that they were alone upon the 
 ocean, no land in sight ; but this gave little anxiety 
 to the sailors, and after a short interval, during which 
 the wind favoured their passage, and propelled them 
 swiftly along, the rocky coast of the mountainous 
 island of Skye appeared. As they were passing a 
 headland called Vaternish, a party of the Macleod 
 militia espied them, and several shots were tired. 
 Happily, however, the tide was out, and before a boat 
 could be got into deep water, pursuit was hopeless. 
 
 " Don't mind the villains, but pull for your lives," 
 cried out the Prince, and the boatmen, animated by 
 his address and courage, replied cheerily that they 
 would soon distance their assailants ; adding, that if 
 they cared at all, it was only for him. 
 
 " Oh, there's no fear of me !" was the response, 
 while the prince busied himself in taking care of 
 Flora, whom he had persuaded to take shelter in the 
 bottom of the boat, a retreat which, to satisfy her 
 fears, he himself adopted shortly after. 
 
 A few miles further, the boat was put into a creek, 
 for the purpose of affording a little repose to the 
 rowers, by this time greatly fatigued. They were 
 soon, however, obliged to put off again, in consequence 
 of being watched from the shore and, proceeding 
 about twelve miles from Vaternish, they reached 
 in safety, Mugstat, the residence of Sir Alexander 
 Macdonald, formerly a stanch Jacobite, though now
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 267 
 
 in actual attendance upon the duke of Cumberland 
 at Fort Augustus. 
 
 Lady Margaret Macdonald had been in correspon- 
 dence with the prince when he was lying hid in South 
 Uist, and she had learned, from Mrs. Macdonald of 
 Kirkibost, that his arrival in the island of Skye might 
 l >e expected. 
 
 " When the boat containing the fugitive had landed, 
 Flora, attended by Mackechan, proceeded to the house, 
 leaving Charles, in his female dress, sitting on her 
 trunk on the beach. On ariving at the dwelling, she 
 desired a servant to inform Lady Margaret that she 
 had called on her way home from Uist. She was 
 immediately introduced to the family apartment, 
 where she found, besides Mrs. Macdonald of Kirki- 
 bost, a Lieutenant Macleod, the commander of a band 
 of militia stationed near, th~ee or four of whom were 
 also in the house. There were also present, Mr. 
 Alexander Macdonald, of Kingsburgh, an elderly 
 gentleman of the neighbourhood, who acted as cham- 
 berlain, or factor, to Sir Alexander, and who was, she 
 knew, a sound Jacobite. Flora entered easily into 
 conversation with the officer, who asked her a number 
 of questions, as where she had come from, where she 
 was going, and so forth ; all of which she answered 
 without manifesting the least trace of that confusion 
 which might have been expected from a young lady 
 under such anxious circumstances. The same man 
 had been in the custom of examining every boat
 
 2G8 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 which landed from the Long Island ; that, for in- 
 stance, in which Mrs. Macdonald of Kirkibost arrived 
 had been so examined, and we can only account for 
 his allowing that of Miss Flora to pass, by the circum- 
 stance of his meeting her under the imposing cour- 
 tesies of the drawing-room of a lady of rank. Miss 
 Macdonald, with the same self-possession, dined in 
 Lieutenant Macleod's company. Seizing a proper 
 opportunity, she apprised Kingsburgh of the circum- 
 stances of the prince, and he immediately proceeded 
 to another room, and sent for Lady Margaret, that he 
 might break the intelligence to her, in private. Not- 
 withstanding the previous warning, she was much 
 alarmed at the idea of the wanderer being so near 
 her house, and immediately sent for a certain Donald 
 Roy Macdonald, to consult as to what should be done. 
 Donald had been wounded in the prince's army at 
 Culloden, and was as obnoxious to the government as 
 he could be. He came and joined the lady and her 
 friends in the garden, when it was arranged that 
 Kingsburgh should take the prince along with him to 
 his own house, some miles distant, and thence pass 
 him through the island to Portree, where Donald 
 Roy should take him up, and provide for his further 
 safety." 
 
 No time was now lost in dispatching Kingsburgh 
 to communicate these arrangements to the prince, who 
 was, no doubt, in an agony of suspense the while, 
 and to carry him some refreshment. The poor refugee,
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 269 
 
 Boeing some one approaching him, started up, and 
 discovering the heavy stick he carried, put himself in 
 an attitude of defiance. 
 
 "I am Macdonald of Kingsburgh, come to serve 
 your highness," said the good old man ; and he pro- 
 ceeded to explain how this might be effected. 
 
 While these two set off towards Kingsburgh, Miss 
 Macdonald, quietly seated with Lady Margaret and 
 the Oificer before named, endeavoured to secure to them 
 a good start upon their journey. Presently she bade 
 farewell to her hostess, who pretended to be extremely 
 averse to parting with her so soon, and invited her 
 warmly to remain ; reminding her that she had pro- 
 mised to pay her a lengthened visit. Flora excused 
 herself, upon the plea that her mother was ill, and 
 needed her presence at home. After dinner, therefore, 
 she departed, leaving young Macleod quite unsuspicious 
 of the real nature of her visit to Mugstat. In after- 
 years, Flora often rallied this gentleman upon having 
 so completely deceived him. 
 
 Mrs. Macdonald of Kirkibost, her servants, and 
 Mackechan, accompanied Flora, whose object was to 
 come up with the pedestrians, and, joining them, to 
 proceed altogether to Kingsburgh. They soon ap- 
 peared in sight ; but as the servants of her companion 
 were unacquainted with the secret, it was necessary to 
 put them off the scent by passing the travellers, as if 
 unknown to them, at a trot. Charles is represented 
 as being very awkward in his feminine attire : Kings-
 
 270 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 burgh laughed and said to him, " Your enemies call 
 you a pretender ; but if you be, I can tell you you are 
 the worst at the trade I ever saw." He held up his 
 petticoats in a very undignified manner j and when 
 remonstrated with, improved upon matters by per- 
 mitting the skirt of his dress to draggle in the water, 
 when a brook again had to be passed. His height was 
 so remarkable, and his strides so immense, that the 
 niaid-servaut at Flora's side exclaimed to her, " That 
 must be an Irishwoman, or else a man in woman's 
 clothes ; see what steps the creature takes !" Flora 
 replied that she was doubtless an Irishwoman. Shortly 
 after they parted company, and Flora rejoined the 
 travellers, who had been -somewhat annoyed on their 
 side by the inquiries and remarks of the persons they 
 met, all having reference to the uncommon height of 
 the pretended Betty Burke. About eleven o'clock at 
 night, the little party arrived in safety at Kingsburgh 
 House, where Mrs. Macdonald, or Lady Kingsburgh, 
 as she was generally called, received them with every 
 mark of kindness. 
 
 Supper followed, Charles, still in gown and coif, 
 presiding, with his hostess on his left hand, and Flora 
 in the place of honour. While the two gentlemen 
 enjoyed a glass of punch together, the ladies withdrew 
 to discuss past perils, and future plans. 
 
 " And what," said Lady Kiugsburgh, " has been 
 done with the boatmen who brought you to the 
 island?"
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 271 
 
 " They have been sent back to South Uist," replied 
 the young lady. 
 
 " That was an oversight. These men ought to have 
 been detained a short time. I fear that if they meet 
 with government officers, they may uncautiously, or 
 from mercenary motives, betray our poor wanderer's 
 retreat." 
 
 Lady Kingsburgh's surmise, which had even at that 
 early period proved correct, seemed so alarming, that 
 Flora decided upon persuading the prince to assume, 
 as soon as possible, the habiliments of his own sex. 
 
 The hunted prince had now been several days with- 
 out taking off his clothes, or enjoying the luxury of a 
 bed ; he was only too happy to retire to the one pro- 
 vided for him, as it was now far into the night. He 
 slept until late the following morning, so late, indeed, 
 that Miss Macdonald went into Kingsburgh's room, 
 and urged him to rouse the prince, and depart with 
 him, lest a party of militia should arrive, and render 
 it impossible to leave the house. 
 
 Kingsburgh, however, would by no means consent 
 to disturb the weary outcast he had so generously 
 sheltered. " Let the poor boy repose after his fatigues," 
 he said. "As for me, I care little if they take off 
 this old grey head, ten or eleven years sooner than I 
 should die, in the course of nature." Saying these 
 words, he turned again to his pillow, and was asleep 
 iu a moment. 
 
 Towards the afternoon, the party again set for-
 
 272 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 ward, but previously, Kingsburgh had provided the 
 prince with a new pair of shoes, his own being com- 
 pletely worn out. " Look," said this enthusiastic 
 Jacobite, holding up the old ones, " I shall faithfully 
 keep these shoes until you are comfortably settled at 
 St. James. I will then introduce myself by shaking 
 them at you, and thus put you in mind of your night's 
 entertainment and protection under this roof." " Be 
 as good as your word, my friend," replied the prince ; 
 ' whenever that time arrives, I shall expect to see 
 you." 
 
 The promise never an-ived at redemption, but 
 Kingsburgh, as long as he lived, kept the relic of his 
 prince; after his death, a stanch supporter of the Stuart 
 cause, bought them for the sum of twenty guineas. 
 As for Lady Kingsburgh, she is said to have preserved 
 the linen used upon Charles's bed, and directed that 
 when she died, a portion should form her winding- 
 sheet ; and it is further added, that a part of one 
 sheet was given to Flora Macdonald, accompanied her 
 in all her wanderings, and was finally appropriated to 
 the same use, as in the case of her mother-in-law. The 
 truth of this assertion is not known. 
 
 One thing is certain, that a lock of the pretended 
 Betty's hair was severed from her head, and divided 
 between Flora and her hostess. It was judged better, 
 as the former lady arrived with a female servant, that 
 she should take one of the same sex away with her ; 
 so Charles waited to alter his dress iintil they
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 273 
 
 reached a little wood upon the road to Portree, when 
 he again assumed his male attire, exchanging his 
 troublesome appendages of petticoat and apron, for a 
 tartan coat and waistcoat, a philibeg and short hose, 
 plaid and bonnet. Kingsburgh here bade adieu to 
 the prince, who, with Mackechan, was to walk a 
 distance of fourteen miles to Portree, while Flora 
 proceeded thither by some other road, that no sus- 
 picion might ensue. 
 
 Previous to their arrival at Portree, Donald Roy 
 had been despatched to the laird of Eosay with di- 
 rections to convey Charles to the place where the 
 cottier's father, who had fought for the prince at 
 Falkirk and Culloden, lay hid. Donald, in com- 
 pany with some of his friends, received the weary 
 traveller upon his arrival, and at a poor public- 
 house by the road-side, he took a hasty meal of the 
 coarsest materials, drinking from an old broken bowl 
 used to bale water out of the boat, which was all they 
 had to offer for the purpose. Flora now made her 
 appearance, pale and tired, but still strong in devotion 
 to his interest. Finding the boat, conveyed by the 
 exertions of two gallant brothers, the Macleods, 
 across a mile of Highland bog and precipice, in 
 readiness, Flora detained him no longer than to bid 
 him an earnest, though agitated farewell. Charles 
 thanked her, in the most animated terms, for all the 
 heroism she had shown in his cause. " Ah ! madam," 
 
 T
 
 274 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 he said, with emotion, "for all that has happened, I 
 hope we shall meet in St. James's yet." 
 
 This was the last time Charles ever saw his gene- 
 rous protectress. They hurried him away to the vessel, 
 while Flora, with a heavy heart, turned her steps 
 towards the house of her mother at Sleat. She had 
 effected all in her power, she had used her best 
 exertions to secure the safety of this, the last unfor- 
 tunate scion of the old Stuart line, and to Heaven 
 she commended, tremblingly, the rest. What vicissi- 
 tudes the wretched Charles encountered, how he lay, 
 pinched with hunger, and failing in health, in cow- 
 sheds, in caves, and among bushes and underwood, 
 until, three months after, he was able to embark from 
 Lochnanuagh, the very spot where he had landed, 
 and to effect his escape to France, is in history well 
 known. It is probable that, after the part she had 
 taken, after the dangers she had boldly confronted in 
 the endeavour to secure his escape, Flora Macdonald's 
 thoughts were with the fugitive constantly ; nor is it 
 to be supposed she ever enjoyed a moment of actual 
 peace of mind, until the news of his safe arrival in 
 Brittany reached her. 
 
 Before we finally dismiss the object of this young 
 lady's generous interest, it may, perhaps, be well to 
 sketch his career, in advancing life, in a few words. 
 Charles scarcely showed himself worthy of the noble 
 girl's assistance, in after-years. What good there had
 
 Mucdonald talcing leave of the Pretender. V. 2?
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 275 
 
 been about him, was clouded and distorted, the evil 
 had grown by contact with misfortune. When his 
 brother, Henry Stuart, afterwards Cardinal York, 
 heard of the defeat at Culloden, he took holy orders. 
 Charles is said to have been infinitely disgusted 
 thei-eat : for himself, he had no fixed principles 
 either of religion, or morality. As a sovereign, he 
 would have probably become a despot ; as an indi- 
 vidual, he is described as haughty, self-willed, and, 
 worse than these, ungrateful to his best friends, whose 
 troubles or perils scarcely excited in him, an indolent 
 compassion. He married the Princess Louisa Maxi- 
 miliana of Stolberg Godern, a woman many years 
 younger than himself, and used her so shamefully 
 that she took refuge from him in a convent. He 
 appears, indeed, to have been completely brutalized, 
 and though the conduct of his wife was scarcely 
 irreproachable, to have conducted himself towards 
 her and others, in a fashion incredible in the elegant 
 and refined gentleman, whose brilliancy attracted so 
 much admiration and devotion, in the Highlands. 
 Charles Edward lived to be sixty-eight years old : 
 he left to a daughter, the duchess of Albany, he 
 assumed the title, subsequently, of Count of Albany, 
 some considerable property he possessed in the French 
 funds, and died at Rome in 1788. As to his widow, 
 she married a second time, Alfieri, the poet, and is 
 reported, after his death, to have formed a third 
 union with Fabre, an historical painter. She died 
 T 2
 
 276 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 in 1824. Henry Stuart, who seems to have been 
 more amiable, though, probably, weaker-minded than 
 his brother, received from George III. a pension of 
 4,000 per annum. 
 
 Flora Macdonald, after quitting the prince, pro- 
 ceeded to the house of her mother. Upon her 
 arrival, she checked the confidence which she would 
 otherwise have gladly made, relative to her late em- 
 ployment, fearing to involve others in the danger she 
 herself had incurred. She considered it better, if 
 inquiries were made, that they should be able to 
 declare nothing had been known to them, of the 
 prince's escape. That such inquiries would arise, 
 Flora felt assured ; and the result proved how cor- 
 rect was her anticipation. Only a day or two inter- 
 vened, before it transpired that the boatmen, on again 
 reaching the island whence they had conveyed the 
 fugitives, had been intimidated into revealing the 
 place whei*e they had left her. A Captain Ferguson, 
 a rabid Government emissary, obtaining the descrip- 
 tion of "Betty Burke's" appearance, sailed at once 
 for Skye, and finding no " tall female " had been seen 
 there with Miss Macdonald, followed upon the latter's 
 track to Kingsburgh, where he soon discovered from 
 the servants, that the supposed Irish domestic had 
 reappeared, and been accommodated with the best 
 bedchamber in the house. The good old Kingsburgh 
 refusing to give further information, was laid in 
 durance, and threatened with no punishment short
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 277 
 
 of death ; while the attendance of Miss Macdonald 
 was commanded without loss of time. In opposition 
 to the advice of her family, Flora wisely determined 
 to obey the summons. On her way, she met her step- 
 father, but was almost immediately after seized by a 
 party of soldiers, and taken to the vessel of Ferguson. 
 Meeting on board General Campbell, she frankly con- 
 fessed to him the truth of the statement made by her 
 boatmen, and quietly resigned herself prisoner. 
 
 It will be remembered that Charles's friend and 
 ardent admirer his only follower, indeed, at that 
 time was Captain O'lSTiel, the same who had first, 
 from some slight acquaintance with Flora, suggested 
 the idea of engaging her aid, and, happily for the 
 prince, succeeded in so doing by the force of the 
 arguments he employed. On board the ship to 
 which, after twenty-two days, Flora was sent, she 
 found, also a prisoner, this generous and lively young 
 Irishman, and going straight up to him, she tapped his 
 face gently with her hand, and said, laughingly, " To 
 that black countenance, it seems, I am to owe all my 
 misfortunes." He replied, earnestly, " Ah ! do not 
 regard as a misfortune what is the brightest honour ; 
 only go on as you have begun ; act up to the character 
 you have obtained, neither repent nor be ashamed of 
 what will yet redound to your greatest praise and 
 advantage." This exhortation must have been need- 
 less to one of our heroine's temperament. 
 
 Owing to the courtesy of those in authority, Flora
 
 278 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 experienced, as well in the ship of Commodore Smith, 
 as on board the Brldgwater, her next prison, the 
 greatest kindness and indulgence. She was permitted 
 to land and bid her mother farewell, to engage a Scotch 
 attendant, the only girl who could be induced to accom- 
 pany her, and to secure a portion of her wardrobe, she 
 having been sometime deprived of a change of habili- 
 ments. On arriving at Leith, she remained nearly 
 two months in harbour, and was allowed to receive 
 visits on board, though it was here interdicted to her 
 to leave the ship. The simple-minded country maiden 
 suddenly discovered that she had been transformed 
 into a heroine : the fame of her courage and loyalty 
 had gone far and wide ; everybody was anxious to see 
 her. Many brought presents, and one a Bible and 
 Prayer-book, together with sewing materials, which 
 she received joyfully. It is related that Lady Mary 
 Cochrane paid her a visit, and upon the wind freshen- 
 ing a little, pretended fear of returning to shore, in 
 order that she might, as she said, " have it in her 
 power to say she had slept in the same bed, or berth 
 we suppose, with Miss Flora Macdonald." One morn- 
 ing Flora was discovered in tears. " Alas ! " she ex- 
 claimed ; " I fear that all I have endeavoured to do is 
 in vain ; the prince is taken prisoner." She refused 
 to be comforted until news arrived that the report had 
 been a false one. " Some," says one of her visitors, 
 the episcopal minister of Leith, " some that went on 
 board to pay their respects to her, used to take a dance
 
 FLORA MACDONAL1X 279 
 
 in the cabin, and to press her much to share with 
 them in the diversion ; but with all their importunity 
 they could not prevail with her to take a trip. She 
 told them that at present her dancing days were done, 
 and she would not readily entertain a thought of that 
 diversion till she should be assured of the prince's 
 safety, and perhaps not till she should be blessed 
 with the happiness of seeing him again. Although 
 she was easy and cheerful, yet she had a certain mix- 
 ture of gravity in all her behaviour, which became 
 her situation exceedingly well, and set her off to great 
 advantage. She is of a low stature, of a fair com- 
 plexion, and well enough shaped. One would not 
 discern by her conversation that she had spent all her 
 former days in the Highlands ; for she talks English 
 (or rather Scots) easily, and not at all through the 
 Erse tone. She has a sweet voice, and sings well ; 
 and no lady Edinburgh bred can acquit herself better 
 at the tea table than she did when in Leith Road. 
 Her wise conduct in one of the most perplexing scenes 
 that can happen in life, her fortitude and good sense, 
 are memorable instances of the strength of a female 
 mind, even in those years that are tender and inex 
 perienced." 
 
 Arrived in London, Miss Macdonald was placed in 
 the house of a gentleman, where she could scarcely be 
 said to be put under restraint of any disagreeable 
 nature. Here she remained for several months, and 
 upon the passing of the act of indemnity in the July
 
 280 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 of the year 1747, was set at liberty without the 
 ceremony of a trial. Public opinion was wholly in her 
 favour, and many in power, Frederick Prince of Wales, 
 father of George III., among the number, made no 
 secret of their approbation of her conduct under the 
 affecting circumstances, in which the unhappy Charles 
 Edward had sought her aid. Immediately upon her 
 liberation, Flora went to the house of Lady Primrose ; 
 and here so many persons crowded to see the " Pre- 
 tender's Deliverer," as she was called, that the streets 
 had the same appearance they present, on the occasion of 
 a royal levee. Nor was the admiration thus expressed, 
 all : a tangible proof of the appreciation in which her 
 name was held, was afforded by a subscription, amount- 
 ing, says Lord Mahon, to 1,500. It may be supposed 
 the fair young Scotswoman lost no time in returning 
 to her family. Lady Primrose (says Boswell) pro- 
 vided a post-chaise to convey her to Scotland, and 
 desired she would choose any friend she pleased to 
 accompany her. She chose the gallant Malcolm Mac- 
 leod, who had been also incarcerated, but set at liberty 
 for want of sufficient evidence, for the prominent part 
 he had taken in forwarding Charles's escape. " So," 
 said he, with a triumphant air, " I went to London to 
 be hanged, and returned in a post-chaise with Miss 
 Flora Macdonald." 
 
 It is probable that even before the commencement 
 of her striking connection with the fortunes of the 
 pretender, Miss Macdonald had responded to the at-
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 281 
 
 tachment of, if not formed an engagement with, her 
 kinsman, young Macdonald, the son of the generous 
 Kingsburgh. Shortly after her return home, upon 
 November 6th, 1750, she was married to him, and 
 became the mother of five sons, more or less remark- 
 able for the courage and intrepidity ennobling their 
 ancestry on both sides. An anecdote of Macdonald 
 himself, is worthy to be recorded, in proof of the tine 
 sense of honour which inspired him, in as high a de- 
 gree as the above-named qualities. 
 
 " Macdonald was brought a prisoner, heavily ironed, 
 from Skye to Fort Augustus. The excellent President 
 Forbes represented to the duke of Cum be dan d, that 
 to execute so popular a man as Kingsburgh, would 
 excite renewed rebellion. But he was so deeply 
 involved in the escape of Charles Edward, that his 
 death seemed to be certain. At Fort Augustus, 
 whilst he was a prisoner, an order came to the officer 
 on guard, for the release of some prisoners. Amongst 
 others, the officer called the name of ' Alexander 
 Macdonald,' asking Kingsburgh if that were not his. 
 He answered, ' That is my name, but I suspect there 
 must be some mistake.' The officer said, ' What mis- 
 take, is not your name Alexander Macdonald ? ' 
 Kingsburgh said that it was, but repeated his warning 
 twice or thrice. At last he went out, and met a 
 friend, who advised him instantly to quit the fort, 
 Kingsburgh said, ' No, I must wait at the opposite 
 alehouse, till I see whether the officer gets into a
 
 282 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 scrape.' He waited. In two hours an officer came 
 with a body of soldiers, and made the subaltern on 
 guard, prisoner, for having set at large so dangerous 
 a rebel. Kingsburgh immediately ran across the 
 street, and saying to the officer, ' I told you there was 
 a mistake,' surrendered himself. However, the Presi- 
 dent Forbes saved his life." 
 
 When Dr. Johnson went with Boswell to the 
 Hebrides, in the year 1773, he was warmly received 
 by the husband of Flora, then himself possessor of 
 the family mansion in which Charles Edward had 
 been successfully hidden. "Kingsburgh," says Bos- 
 well, in his account of the great moralist's tour, " is 
 completely the figure of a gallant Highlander, ex- 
 hibiting the graceful mien and manly looks, which our 
 popular Scotch song has justly attributed to that 
 character. He had jet black hair, which was tied 
 behind, and was a large, stately man, with a steady, 
 sensible countenance." Flora herself he describes, as 
 a woman of middle stature, soft features, gentle 
 manners, and elegant presence. She was, at this 
 time, fifty-three years old. Lady Kingsburgh spelnd 
 her name, not " Flora," but " Flory," Macdonald. 
 
 The year following this visit of the doctor, the 
 Kingsburghs emigrated to North Carolina, in the 
 hope of effecting a comfortable settlement in America. 
 Their journey was not a fortunate one. The husband 
 of Flora who appears to have been as brave as ever, 
 in the cause he embraced, joining the 84th Tloyal
 
 FLORA MACDONALD. 283 
 
 Highland Emigrant Regiment, was imprisoned by the 
 provincial force ; but he was soon set at liberty, and 
 he then joined the North Carolina Highlanders, serving 
 in Canada. Upon the conclusion of the war, he re- 
 turned to Scotland on half-pay, probably wearied of 
 the incessant harass he had experienced in the New 
 World, and yearning for a sight of the mountains of 
 his native land. During their homeward voyage, the 
 ship was attacked by a French privateer. It would 
 scarcely be in character to suppose our heroine a silent 
 or impassive spectator of the combat. While standing 
 on deck near her husband, and boldly animating the 
 sailors by spirited words and gestures, which even in 
 her old age, seemed to have lost nothing of their power, 
 she was thrown down with such violence that the 
 shock broke her arm. In allusion to this accident and 
 the circumstances of it, she is said to have remarked, 
 with, great coolness, that " she had now suffered a 
 little, for both the houses of Stuart and Hanover ! " 
 
 After her return to Skye, Flora never again left it. 
 She lived to be quite an old woman, and was followed 
 to the grave by about three thousand persons, friends 
 and retainers, amongst whom many had been recipients 
 of her bounty, and most were capable of estimating the 
 fine qualities of heart and mind, which rendered her 
 loss a public one. Besides her sons, all of them officers 
 in the army or navy, Flora Macdonald had two 
 daughters, who were married to gentlemen holding 
 the same profession as their brothers. One of the
 
 284 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 sous, anxious to perpetuate the remembrance of the 
 spot where was interred so much heroism and devotion, 
 sent a marble tablet, commemorative of his mother, to 
 be placed upon her tomb in the churchyard of Kilmuir ; 
 but, having been broken by accident, tourists took the 
 opportunity to carry off pieces, and, at the present 
 time, the grave of Flora Macdonald " remains un- 
 distinguished, within the rude inclosure that holds 
 the dust of so many of the brave Kingsburgh family."
 
 " True goodness is like the glowworm in this, that it shines 
 most when no eyes, except those of Heaven, are upon it." 
 
 ANON".
 
 BORN 1763. DIED 1837. 
 
 NARRATIVES of self-devotion too often derive their 
 interest from loud and restless excitement ; the most 
 unobtrusive, on the contrary, is generally the most 
 sterling virtue. The subject of the present memoir 
 presents a singular example of fortitude unstimulated 
 by fame, and of self-denial, at an age when commen- 
 dation possesses a peculiar attraction. We have a 
 young woman discarding, not only the frivolities but 
 even the natural recreations of her girlhood, immuring 
 herself in a voluntary seclusion, and dedicating her 
 existence to the service of an aged pastor, whose cares 
 she alleviated with the tenderness of a daughter, and 
 whose labours she extended by unrelaxing fidelity and 
 zeal. If therefore we wish to recommend a pattern 
 of noiseless piety, and of that true religion which is 
 wanned by a holy fire within, and not by the sun of
 
 288 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 worldly favour; if we would speak of earnestness withoxit 
 fanaticism, of affection untainted by selfishness, and 
 of charity free from ostentation, we naturally turn to 
 Louise Schepler, the housekeeper of Oberlin. 
 
 The good pastor of the Ban de la Roche, or " Valley 
 of Stone," as it is sometimes called, is a personage 
 familiar to even the children of the present generation. 
 Upon the death of Madame Oberlin, an event deeply 
 mourned by the inhabitants of the district she had 
 for years laboured with her husband to evangelize, the 
 void was in a measure supplied, not only to the 
 bereaved family, but to the poor generally, by an 
 orphan, who had already lived eight years in Madame 
 Oberlin's service, and now undertook the management 
 of her household, and the care of her children. Louise 
 Schepler was at this time twenty-three years of age. 
 Her appearance was attractive, her address engaging ; 
 while within her there dwelt a spirit of fervent piety, 
 which had already led her to considerable self-sacrifice 
 in the path of usefulness. To explain this entirely, we 
 must go back a little in our narration. 
 
 When Oberlin entered on his charge in the year 
 1767, he commenced improvements alike in the agri- 
 cultural, domestic, and educational condition of his 
 Hock, and carried them into practice by devoting his 
 own limited means, and applying to some benevolent 
 friends at a distance, in aid of the necessary expenses. 
 Among the first benefits of his cure, was the erection 
 of a new school-house, in place of the hut formerly
 
 LOUISE SCHEPLER. . 289 
 
 devoted to that purpose, and in the course of a few- 
 years a similar one was built in each of the other 
 four villages appertaining to his jurisdiction. He 
 had " observed with concern the disadvantages to 
 which the younger children were subjected while 
 their elder brothers and sisters were at school, and 
 their parents busily engaged in their daily avocations, 
 and he laid down a plan for the introduction of 
 infant schools also, probably the very first ever esta- 
 blished, and the model of those subsequently opened 
 at Paris, and still more recently in this country. 
 Observation had convinced him, that even from the 
 very cradle, children are capable of being taught to 
 distinguish between right and wrong, and of being 
 trained to habits of subordination and industry, 
 and in conjunction with his wife, he formed con- 
 duclrices for each commune, engaged large rooms for 
 them, and salaried them at his own expense. Two 
 women were employed, the one to direct the handicraft, 
 the other to instruct and entertain the children. 
 While those of two or three years old were made at 
 intervals to sit quietly by, those of five or six were 
 taught to knit, spin, and sew, and when they were 
 beginning to be weary of this occupation, their con- 
 ductrice showed them coloured pictures relating to 
 Scripture subjects, or natural history, making them 
 recite after her, the explanations she gave. She also 
 explained geographical maps of France, Europe, or the 
 Ban de la Roche, and its immediate environs, engraved 
 U
 
 290 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 in wood, for the pxirpose, by Oberlin's direction, and 
 mentioned the names of the different places marked 
 upon them ; in addition to this, she taught them to 
 sing moral songs and hymns. Thus she varied their 
 employments as much as possible, taking care to keep 
 them continually occupied, and never permitting them 
 to speak a word of patois, by which means correct 
 French was introduced generally into the Ban de la 
 Roche." * It will be seen that these conductrices were 
 far above the condition of ordinary peasants in point of 
 education. Louise Schepler, therefore, who had filled 
 the office of one of them for some years before the 
 death of Madame Oberlin, must not be considered in 
 the light of a common servant. She had been a sort of 
 helper in the village of "VValdbach, and her long and 
 occasionally difficult walks from cottage to cottage, 
 and to and from the school-houses, had resulted in 
 detrimental influence upon her health from the severe 
 colds, exposure to the snows entailed. 
 
 From the moment this girl became housekeeper to 
 " le cher papa," as Oberlin was affectionately and 
 generally termed, she determined to refuse every offer 
 of marriage, and to devote herself entirely to the 
 service of her Heavenly Master, and His earthly 
 minister. She would accept nothing more than was 
 actually necessary to subsistence, refusing money al- 
 together, even when Oberlin attempted to do away 
 with her reluctance by sending her small sums 
 
 * "Memoirs of Obeilin." London. 1852.
 
 LOUISE SCHEPLEB. 291 
 
 through indirect channels. A note -written at the 
 time by Louise to the pastor upon this subject, will illus- 
 trate the simple attachment of his orphan dependent. 
 
 "WALDBACH, First of the New Tear, 1793. 
 " DEAR AXD BELOVED PAPA, Permit me, at the com- 
 mencement of the new year, to request a favour which 
 I have long desired. As I am now really independent, 
 that is to say, as I have now no longer my father nor 
 his debts to attend to, I beseech you, dear papa, not 
 to refuse me the favour of making me your adopted 
 daughter; do not, I entreat you, give me any more 
 wages, for as you treat me like your child in every 
 other respect, I earnestly wish you to do so in this 
 particular also. Little is needful for the support ot 
 my body ; my shoes and stockings and sabots will cost 
 something, but when I want them, I can ask 'you for 
 them, as a child applies to its father. Oh ! I entreat 
 you, dear papa, grant me this favour, and condescend 
 to regard me as your most tenderly attached daughter, 
 
 " LOUISE SCHEPLEB." 
 
 Who could refuse snch an appeal ? Louise was 
 henceforth considered an actual member of the pastor's 
 family, and allowed the privilege of sharing with his 
 children, in occupations, all, more or less, illustrative ot 
 the enlightened faith he professed. The excellence 
 of the schools where she and they taught, speedily 
 became so renowned, that girls of the middle ranks 
 began to be seut for education to this secluded district 
 u 2
 
 292 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 from a distance, and the title of a scholar of Pastor 
 Oberlin, came to be regarded as a complete testimonial 
 of piety, intelligence, and gentle bearing. 
 
 Louise seems to have been generally chosen to assist 
 her master in the judicious distribution of the various 
 useful articles, and sums of money, collected for the 
 poor, at a time when Oberlin himself had voluntarily 
 sacrificed his own power of extending charity, by 
 resigning the salary always paid by them to their 
 pastor, in seasons of less pressure. He could not, 
 however, long endure the withdrawal of any means 
 of doing good, and as a mode of gaining funds, with 
 which to carry out his schemes of benevolence, he 
 decided upon receiving ten or twelve pupils, whose 
 education devolved principally upon himself, in ad- 
 dition to that of his own family of six, the youngest 
 of whom was now ten years old. Louise's cares were 
 thus doubled. 
 
 In the year 1808, Henrietta Oberlin removed into 
 Russia, as the wife of Mr. Graff, a missionary on the 
 banks of the Volga. One of Oberlin's sons also went 
 to reside as private tutor in the family of a nobleman 
 near Riga. The health of the good pastor had never 
 been so strong since an illness he sustained during the 
 period of the Revolution in 1794, supposed to have 
 been brought on by over-exertion. The continual 
 care and watchfulness of his housekeeper were neces- 
 sary, and though she was no longer pained by seeing 
 bim delirious, and listening to his agonized suppli-
 
 LOUISE SCHEPLER. 293 
 
 cations to her, to bring him enormous sums of money 
 for the furtherance of his plans, yet his condition of 
 health was so critical, as to decide Mrs. Graff to return 
 with her husband before a long time had elapsed, 
 and take up her abode in the paternal mansion, in 
 order to assist in the care of hun ; find, relieve him 
 of some portion of his labours. Henry Oberlin 
 writes of Louise about this period : " Our good and 
 excellent Louise Schepler is still alive, and always in 
 conjunction with my dear father, observing the same 
 fidelity and self-devotion in the performance of her 
 duties." Four more of Oberlin's children married 
 during the next few years, but in the winter of 1817, 
 their brother, the writer of the above testimony to 
 Louise's worth, was removed to another world; he 
 closed his eyes in the arms of that faithful friend, who 
 had for some weeks ministered to the fleeting spirit 
 with unremitting tenderness. 
 
 After this event, which was deeply felt by all who 
 had the privilege of knowing a son worthy in every 
 way of the idolized pastor, life resumed its usual 
 routine at the parsonage of Waldbach. The next 
 mention of Louise is made in the letter of a lady who 
 visited it about the year 1820, and is as follows : 
 
 " We set off for Mr. Oberlin's, a mile and a halt 
 further (a romantic walk through the valley), accom- 
 panied by Mr. Legrand. On the way we met this 
 most venerable and striking man the perfect picture 
 of what an old man and minister should be. He r
 
 294 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 ceived us cordially, and we soon felt quite at ease with 
 him. We all proceeded together towards his house, 
 which stands on the top of a hill, surrounded by trees 
 and cottages ; if we live to return, you shall see my 
 sketch of it. Owing to the fatigue of our journey 
 I felt quite overdone on our first arrival. I could 
 see nothing like a mistress in the house ; but an old 
 woman, called Louise, dressed in a long woollen jacket 
 and black cotton cap, came to welcome us, and we 
 afterwards found that she is an important person at 
 the Ban de la Roche; she is mistress, housekeeper, 
 intimate friend, maid-of-all-work, schoolmistress, enter- 
 tainer of guests, and, I should think, assistant minister, 
 though we have not yet heard her in this capacity. 
 Besides Louise, the son-in-law and daughter, and their 
 six children, live here two young girls, protegees, arid 
 two more maids out of the parish. Mr. Graff, the 
 son-in-law, is a minister, and a very excellent man. 
 There is much religion and simplicity both in him 
 and his wife, but the latter is so devoted to the chil- 
 dren that we seldom see her." This circumstance 
 accounts for what at first sight seems strange, that 
 Madame Graff should not have presided over her 
 father's house. Her maternal duties occupied her entire 
 time ; and indeed she was only too happy to give up 
 to one whom she considered almost in the light of a 
 second mother, the management of domestic and other 
 affairs. " The luxury of a common English cottage," 
 writes the same lady, " is not known in the Ban de la
 
 LOUISE SCHEPLER. 295 
 
 Roche ; we all sit down to the same table, maids and 
 all, one great dish of pottage or boiled spinach, and a 
 quantity of salad and potatoes, upon which they 
 chiefly live, being placed in the middle. Everything 
 is in the most primitive style. I never met with 
 such a disinterested people. It is almost impossible 
 to pay them for any service they do for you. One seldom 
 meets with such shining characters. Mr. Oberlin 
 told us the other day he did not know how to pay 
 Louise, for nothing hurt her so much as offering her 
 money. No one could be more devoted to his service, 
 and that in the most disinterested manner. Her cha- 
 racter has impressed me very much." 
 
 Two years later, the following paragraph occurs in 
 a letter from Mrs. Rauscher, Oberlin's youngest 
 daughter, to the Paris Bible Society : " I will just 
 mention as a single instance, among many others, 01 
 the transforming power of religion, that one young 
 woman refused to marry, that she might devote her 
 time, her talents, and her strength to works of bene- 
 volence ; and allowing herself only the bare necessaries 
 of life, she presented the fruits of her assiduous and 
 unremitting industry to the excellent and pious insti- 
 tutions of the present day ; she also sold all that she 
 thought she could do without, and gave the produce 
 to such objects as she believed calculated, to advance 
 the kingdom of our adorable Lord and Saviour." If 
 this sketch is not intended for Louise, which appears 
 more than probable, it is evident her virtues must
 
 296 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 have raised up imitators. Little doubt, indeed, exists 
 that not the least salutary among the good man's 
 lessons were drawn from observation of his own life 
 and that of his housekeeper, for who can dispute 
 that 
 
 " Example is a living law, whose sway 
 Men more than all the written laws obey ? " 
 
 And when we read that " all our venerable patriarch 
 receives and possesses is only employed for the ad- 
 vancement of the kingdom of His Divine Master ; 
 that he has again remitted one hundred francs, desiring 
 them to be forwarded to the Bible Society, while his 
 Louise has added to it ten francs for the same purpose, 
 and ten for the Missionary Society, the amount of 
 rent of the single field she possesses," can we doubt 
 that Almighty God would indeed put a peculiar 
 blessing upon it, or that " the centre of Christian 
 benevolence being once moved, circle after circle will 
 succeed," and that a ripple is stirred, " gyrating on 
 and on, until it shall have moved across, and spanned 
 the whole ocean of God's eternity, stirring even the 
 river of life, and the fountains at which His angels 
 drink?" 
 
 Oberlin was seized with his last illness about four 
 years after the date of Mrs. Rauscher's letter. He 
 did not linger many days, but gradually declined, 
 resigning his last breath placidly and trustingly, as 
 he had lived. Schooled in self-denial, Louise was 
 throughout the moments of pain, and intervals of eue,
 
 LOUISE SCUEPLEU. 297 
 
 at the side of that revered form. How constantly he 
 thought of her, is proved by a letter, the seal of which 
 was broken a few days after his decease, and which 
 relates entirely to his dispositions for her maintenance 
 and comfort, after he could no longer make them his 
 own care. It illustrates her character so completely 
 that we give it entire. 
 
 " MY VERY DEAR CHILDREN, In leaving you, I 
 commend to your care the faithful nurse who has 
 brought you up the indefatigable Louise. The 
 services which she performed for our family are 
 innumerable. Your dear mother took her under her 
 care before she had attained the age of fifteen ; but 
 even at that early period, she rendered herself useful 
 by her talents, her activity, and her industry. Ou 
 the premature decease of your beloved parent, she 
 became at once your faithful nurse, your careful 
 instructress, and your adopted mother. Her zeal for 
 doing good extended beyond the confines of our own 
 family. Like a devoted servant of the Lord, she 
 went into all the surrounding villages, where I sent 
 her to assemble the children together, to instruct 
 them in God's holy will, to teach them to sing hymns, 
 to direct their attention to the wonderful works of 
 nature, to pray with them, and to communicate to 
 them all the knowledge that she had herself derived 
 from me and your mamma. This was not the labour 
 of a moment ; and the innumerable difficulties which
 
 298 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 opposed themselves to her benevolent employments, 
 would have discouraged a thousand others ; for, whilst 
 on the one hand she had to contend with the wild 
 and froward character of the children, she had, on the 
 other, to correct their patois, and consequently, after 
 having spoken to them in that dialect which was 
 necessary to make herself understood, to translate all 
 she had said into French. The bad roads and the 
 inclement weather, so frequent on these mountains, 
 presented another difficulty ; but neither sleet nor 
 rain, nor wind nor hail, nor deep snows underfoot, 
 nor snow falling from above, detained her from her 
 purpose ; and when she returned in the evening, 
 though exhausted, wet, and weary, and chilled with 
 excessive cold, she would set herself to attend to my 
 children, and to our household affairs. In this man- 
 ner she devoted not only her time and abilities, but 
 also her health, and all her bodily powers, to my 
 service, and to the service of God. For many years 
 past, indeed, her lungs have been injured, and her 
 constitution absolutely ruined, by over-fatigue, and by 
 sudden transitions from heat to cold, and from cold to 
 heat ; having often, when warm with walking, crossed 
 the snows, and sank into them to such a depth as to 
 be scarcely able to get out. She received a sufficient 
 recompense, you will perhaps say, in the ample salary 
 that I allowed her. No, dear children, no ; since 
 the death of your dear mother, I have never been 
 able to prevail on her to accept the least reward for
 
 LOUISE SCHEPLER. 299 
 
 her services. She employed her own little property 
 in doing good, and in the purchase of her scanty 
 wardrobe ; and it was always as a favour that she 
 received from me some slight articles of dress and 
 provisions, which I owed, notwithstanding, to her 
 economy and good management. Judge, dear chil- 
 dren, judge of the debt you have contracted, from 
 her services to me, and how far you will ever be from 
 repaying it. 
 
 " In times of sickness and affliction, how kindly 
 has she watched over both you and me how tenderly 
 has she sought to mitigate our pains, and to assuage 
 our griefs ! Once more I commend her to you. You 
 will evince, by the care that you take of her, how 
 much attention you pay to the last wish of a father, 
 who has always endeavoured to inspire you with 
 feelings of gratitude and benevolence ; but, yes. yes ; 
 you will fulfil my wishes. You will be in your turn, 
 both individually and collectively, all that she has 
 been to you, as far as your means, situation, and 
 opportunity permit. 
 
 " Adieu, my very dear Children, your Papa, 
 
 "J. F. OBERLIN." 
 
 The family of Oberlin were only too ready to carry 
 out the desire of their father; but, as might be 
 expected, the object of his anxious forethought con- 
 tinued true to her principles, by refusing the equal 
 share of their father's small property, pressed upon
 
 300 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 her acceptance by his children. " Whilst a descendant 
 of the name remains," said they, " Louise shall want 
 for nothing ; at least, xintil they themselves are 
 destitute." But this devoted woman declined to re- 
 ceive any favour beyond that of remaining an inmate 
 of the family, the beloved appellation of which, she 
 asked and obtained permission to add to her own. 
 
 Let it not be supposed that, bereft of the guide 
 who had so long sustained and directed her footsteps, 
 Louise sank down disheartened, losing alike the 
 stimulus and reward of her labours. Natures less 
 single-hearted and devoted, might have waxed " weai-y 
 in well doing." Not so our unpretending heroine. 
 The qualities for which she had been remarkable 
 during the life of Oberlin, shone yet more transcen- 
 dently after his demise. So she went on, unostenta- 
 tiously fulfilling the maxims she had drawn from her 
 beloved master, until at length popular admiration, 
 long since excited in her favour, could not be satisfied 
 without endowing her with some tangible testimony of 
 approval. In the year 1829, she was surprised to find 
 herself named as the recipient of one of the Prix de 
 Vertu, annually conferred by the Academic Fran9aise, 
 and the gift of what was to her an enormous sum, was 
 gratefully accepted, as a means of promoting more 
 fully the welfare of others, and of disseminating 
 the principles she professed. Let us see how Louise 
 received this unexpected ovation to her virtues, 
 " that excellent woman who, for half a century, was
 
 LOUISE SCHEPLER. 301 
 
 tbe confidante and comforter of the poor people of the 
 Ban de la Roche, the individual in whose bosom 
 they had reposed their wants, their cares, their trials, 
 she who united wisdom with her benevolence, and 
 was ever actuated, in all her efforts, by a simple 
 desire to please her Heavenly Father," let her own 
 words speak for themselves : 
 
 " I take up my pen in order to have the honour of 
 replying to the letter which you were so good as to 
 write to me on tbe 18th of August last. Yes, dear 
 madam, yes, I am astonished at the merciful hand 
 of God, so graciously extended towards me. Never, 
 no, never, was I anxious to possess wealth for its 
 own sake, or for the gratification of my own desires ; 
 but often, oh, how often ! have I longed for it, that 
 I might be enabled to relieve and succour those who 
 are weighed down by poverty and distress. This 
 bountiful supply will enable me to assist many who 
 are in need. I will mention a few cases which more 
 particularly occur to me." (Here follows a list of per- 
 sons needing help, with the detail of their feelings and 
 sayings, and some of her own sensible and judicious 
 responses.) " Our dear deceased pastor used to inquire 
 into all these wants, going from cottage to cottage, 
 secretly supplying them from his own resources : how- 
 shall I rejoice to do the same ! After being for so 
 many years the help-meet and the almoner of our 
 venerable pere, I am not become insensible to the 
 wants of my fellow-creatures, but am, on the contrary,
 
 302 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 truly thankful that my dear Saviour should have 
 reserved for me, towards the close of my life, the joy of 
 being able to help them. Oh, chere dame, 5000 francs! * 
 c'est beaucoup, oui, c'est beaucoup ; rnais vous voyez 
 que je pourrais en employer encore autant. I have 
 also nephews and nieces, who are all poor, and who, 
 having large families of young children, naturally look 
 for some assistance from their last and only aunt. 
 May I therefore beg you, dear madam, to have the 
 proposed donation paid into a banking-house at Nancy, 
 which M. Legrand will have the goodness to name to 
 you, and where I may draw for a little at a time, as 
 I require it. Oh, blessed be the Lord, a thousand and 
 a thousand times, who is the centre and the source of 
 every perfect gift. Blessed be the noble and generous 
 donor " (M. de Monthyon), " who already reaps the 
 fruits of his benevolence in a happy eternity ! And 
 may the Lord abundantly bless all my dear friends, 
 and grant to His unworthy servant, wisdom and pru- 
 dence rightly to occupy the talent thus intrusted to 
 her care. Amen, amen." 
 
 The announcement of Louise Schepler's good fortune 
 was coupled in one of the public journals with the fol- 
 lowing notice : " The honour of the idea of instituting 
 conductrices and infant-schools an idea attended with 
 such great results, and which will soon be universally 
 adopted is entirely due to Louise Schepler, the poor 
 peasant-woman of Bellefosse. To its realization she has 
 * About 200.
 
 LOUI..E SCIIEPLER. 303 
 
 devoted not only all she possessed, but likewise Tier 
 youth and her health." When the paper containing 
 these lines was shown to her, Louise hastily wrote a 
 Isw lines, and attached them to the journal, knowing 
 that it would be circulated in the neighbourhood. 
 
 "WALDBACH, Sept. 10, 1829. 
 
 " I beg the readers of this article to take into con- 
 sideration that the late Mrs. Oberlin looked kindly 
 upon me, and received me into her service ; that her 
 example and exhortations inspired me with the love of 
 the beautiful and the good, with reverence for virtue, 
 and with devotedness to my divine Saviour ; that our 
 worthy and respected pastor and papa Oberlin, long 
 held the idea of promoting conduclrices for the in- 
 struction of youth ; and that when, at length, he was 
 enabled to carry that idea into execution, I was not 
 even one of the first intrusted with this important 
 and useful office. Therefore, honour and glory to the 
 Lord our God, the author and the source of every vir- 
 tue ; gratitude and love to our late dear and venerated 
 pastor and papa, and to his virtuous wife. But to me, 
 confusion, LOUISE SCHEPLER, 
 
 " Conduclrice," 
 
 "While she repudiated the honour of the nomination, 
 she assumed, and maintained, to the last hour of her 
 existence, the onerous duties of the office. As, also, 
 disinterestedness and self-abasement characterized her 
 every act, so fidelity to Oberlin's family never ceased
 
 304 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 to animate her. After his death, she resided with his 
 son-in-law and daughter ; and with reverential care 
 protected her master's study from any change which 
 might break upon the associations of her attached 
 memory. After a threatening illness during the 
 spring and summer, she was removed, by a brief dis- 
 order, July 25th, 1837, preserving her faculties to the 
 last, and using her fainting accents to implore blessings 
 upon the house of Oberlin, and express her only hope 
 of acceptance, to consist in her Redeemer. With the 
 principle which animates all true Christians, she was 
 anxious to benefit her survivors by wholesome counsel 
 when her lips had ceased to speak, and desired that 
 her will should be read from the pulpit, on the day of 
 her funeral. In it she mentions that she had selected 
 for her funeral text " the words of our dear Saviour " 
 (St. Luke xvii. 10), and implores the "pastor to keep 
 to his text, and not say one word of eulogy in refer- 
 ence to her." Giving God glory for His grace and 
 care, she blesses all her benefactors, relatives, and 
 neighbours, entreats them to seek life in Christ 
 Jesus, and comforts all with the assurance that she 
 leaves them in body only. The Rev. Mr. Rauschcr, 
 jun., grandson of Oberlin, made an appropriate ad- 
 dress upon her tomb, especially commemorating her 
 self-abnegation, her trust in Christ, her pure and 
 holy life, and holding her up as an affectionate 
 example. 
 
 Nor was the record of her virtues without, we
 
 LOUISE SCHEPLEK, 305 
 
 trust, permanent benefit. The best sermon is the 
 life, and the best school of divinity the poor man's 
 cottage. It is in this last especially, that we see 
 humanity shorn of its greatness, brought face to 
 face with death, the contemplation of which, except 
 to the faithful Christian, is rendered more appalling 
 by a withdrawal of those means and appliances for 
 distraction, or, indeed, repose, which so often drive 
 thought from the bedside of the rich, and serve as 
 opiates to conscience, as well as to pain. In Louise 
 Schepler we find a plain, unsophisticated natui'e, 
 learning the lesson of eternal life direct from Heaven 
 itself, and indoctrinating others with it, by the irre- 
 sistible influence of daily example. Her life was one 
 great discharge of duty, which she bore with pleasure > 
 yet surrendered without pain. We hear of other 
 species of duty, but the fame of renowned con- 
 querors, the triumph of crowned kings, the festive 
 pageants of wealth, the sublunary grandeur of ma- 
 jesty, fade away before the mind which contemplates 
 the undimmed and undying spiritual lustre, which 
 rests on the memory of this true servant of God I
 
 <mHie be 
 
 " The wither'd frame, the ruin'd mind, 
 The wreck by passion left behind ; 
 A uhrivell'd scroll, a scatter'd leaf, 
 Sear'd by the autumn blast of grief I " 
 
 BY ROW.
 
 ilu to Jfabalette, 
 
 BOBN 1780. DIED 1820. 
 
 REVOLUTIONS, like earthquakes, produce startling 
 combinations and phenomena, which defy all human 
 expectancy. The convulsion of France demonstrated 
 this truth, hurling long-seated power from its high 
 estate ; enthroning beggars, with precarious occupancy, 
 to sway the destiny of long-descended sovereigns ; en- 
 tangling old friendships in the meshes of distrust ; 
 subverting order, and instituting affinity between the 
 most heterogeneous social elements ! It is obvious 
 that whole histories might still be written, as many 
 have already been, upon the various phases of the 
 wild phantasmagoria which troubled the world with 
 a nightmare of terror, and pressed out of individual 
 hearts, genius and goodness from some, and hideous 
 crime and blasphemy from others. Suffering then, 
 as it always does, made many heroines ; and the rapid
 
 310 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 change of circumstances raised singular rulers, for the 
 hour, upon the thrones of genius as well as of more 
 material dynasties. We will, for the present, choose 
 one from the crowd of competitors, in whose conjugal 
 devotion the truest elements of heroism were con- 
 centrated ; nor do we think our selection will be 
 impugned, by any impartial reader of the life of 
 Madame de Lavalette. 
 
 In the early part of the year 1815, the emperor 
 Napoleon escaped from Elba, and speedily arriving at 
 Paris, expelled Louis XVIII. from the kingdom. The 
 victor of Marengo and Austerlitz was received by nu- 
 merous friends with the liveliest joy, though that joy 
 was clouded by the threatening aspect of the future. 
 Among them, one of his truest as well as most con- 
 fidential advisers, was the Count de Lavalette, formerly 
 an aide-de-camp of Napoleon, and connected with his 
 imperial master, by the ties of marriage. Lavalette 
 had originally been intended for the priesthood, but 
 while studying for this purpose, the commencement of 
 the revolution transformed him into an officer of the 
 National Guard. He subsequently volunteered during 
 the Italian campaign, and rapidly rose to promotion ; 
 his admiring devotion to the interests of Napoleon 
 being so conspicuous, as to win the affection of his 
 chief, who appeared to rely not less upon the coolness 
 of his judgment, than upon the disinterested fervency 
 of his attachment. In consequence of this, Lavalette 
 speedily became one of the emperor's trusted agents,
 
 EMILIE DE LAV ALETTE. 311 
 
 In matters not only of warfare, but diplomacy : he was 
 made a count of the empire, and, later on, nominated 
 a peer. When Napoleon was again made prisoner and 
 sent to the island of St. Helena, Lavalette was among 
 the first to be arrested under the new regime ; he was 
 tried for conspiring against the royal authority, and 
 condemned to die. 
 
 The count had been married some years before this 
 period, to a member of the family of Beauharnais, the 
 niece of Josephine, empress of France. " She was," 
 says Napoleon, " a very fine woman. Louis, my 
 brother, fell in love with, and wanted to marry her ; 
 to prevent which, I caused her to espouse Lavalette, 
 to whom she was attached." This was not the only 
 occasion on which the love-passages of the susceptible 
 Louis were brought to a sudden conclusion by the 
 prompt measures of his brother. He married, in the 
 sequel, not the niece, but the daughter of Josephine, 
 Hortense, mother of the present emperor of the French, 
 Napoleon III. 
 
 Anxiety and terror had, at the period of her hus- 
 band's arrest, shaken the health of Madame de Lava- 
 lette to a painful degree. She was so weak that the 
 movement of a carriage caused her acute suffering, 
 and for some time past, she had been obliged to adopt 
 the then common practice of riding in a sedan chair, 
 such as is still shown to the visitors to the Lesser 
 Trianon, as that belonging to, and constantly used by, 
 the hapless Marie Antoinette. On the evening before
 
 312 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the day appointed for her husband's execution, Madame 
 de Lavalette came to visit him, for the last time, at the 
 Conciergerie, accompanied by her daughter, a girl of 
 twelve, and a faithful dependent, Madame Dutoil. 
 On arriving at the prison, she learned with anguish 
 that so determined was the government to carry out 
 its sentence, that orders had been received to lose no 
 time in conveying the apparatus of death to the Place 
 de Greve, and that no doubt could be entertained he 
 would suffer death at four o'clock on the following 
 evening. The chill gusts of the melancholy December 
 night, sent not so sharp a thrill through her enfeebled 
 frame, as did these cruel tidings inflict upon her 
 heart ; nevertheless, she had come prepared to make a 
 last effort for the life a thousand times more precious 
 when in peril. Others might abandon hope ; it was 
 reserved for the true-hearted wife, to plan, to antici- 
 pate, to succeed, when all else had failed. 
 
 The prisoner for high treason was, nevertheless, not 
 debarred from a last farewell with his wife and child. 
 The visitors were admitted, and remained with him 
 until his dinner was served ; then came coffee, pro- 
 vided for all four ; and now the final adieu must be 
 taken, the last words exchanged, and Eberle, the man 
 whose duty it was to wait upon Lavalette, withdrew, 
 either from delicacy or connivance, receiving orders 
 not to return until summoned. 
 
 No very long interval elapsed before the bell rung. 
 The gaoler, named Roquette, was standing with Eberle
 
 EMILIE DE LAVALETTE. 313 
 
 in the hall, and he desired the latter to go and see 
 the visitors out. As soon as the door of Lavalette's 
 apartment was opened, he saw, as he believed, 
 Madame de Lavalette pass out, in her riding costume 
 of cloth and fur, a drooping Spanish hat and feathers 
 on her head. The lady's whole appearance betokened 
 the extreme of misery ; her handkerchief was pressed 
 to her eyes, while beside her, walked the little girl 
 sobbing vociferously. Although accustomed to such 
 scenes of anguish, the heart of Eoquette was not 
 entirely callous. He advanced, in the scantily-lighted 
 hall, to the lady, and offered her his hand to conduct 
 her, as usual, from the prison. The child and her com- 
 panion, Dutoil, were behind ; Eberle speedily sum- 
 moned the sedan Madame de Lavalette had left at the 
 door during her interview with her husband ; the lady 
 seated herself in it, and, followed by Mademoiselle 
 de Lavalette and Dutoil, disappeared from the gate of 
 the Couciergerie. 
 
 Shortly after, Roquette visited the chamber of 
 Lavalette. He saw no one, but heard some one 
 moving in a portion of the room concealed by a 
 large screen. He was satisfied, and withdrew at first ; 
 but some misgiving rising in his mind, he returned 
 again soon after, and called out the prisoner's name. 
 No answer was returned. He sprang forward, and 
 discovered Madame Lavalette concealed behind the 
 screen. " Mon mari est parti," she had just strength 
 to falter. " "What, madame, am I then deceived 1 he
 
 314 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 has escaped !" cried Koquette. " I hope so !" fervently 
 exclaimed the poor wife ; " but stay one moment " 
 for Roquette was already hastening to give the 
 
 alarm " stay ! and may you " He cut her 
 
 short with " No, madame, not another moment ; 
 this is insufferable." Anxiety lent sudden energy to 
 the weak and ailing woman. She struggled with 
 Roquette to gain every second of delay she could, 
 for her husband. His coat was torn, and her strength 
 utterly exhausted, when at length he forced himself 
 away. 
 
 In the mean time, Lavalette's safety was anything 
 but achieved. He lost no time in throwing off his 
 wife's dress, which had so felicitously disguised him ; 
 but the departure from Paris remained yet to be 
 effected. " Whilst his name resounded from every 
 tongue, coupled with plaudits of his magnanimous 
 wife, never were the energies of the French govern- 
 ment more vigorously exerted, nor the court more 
 inveterate, than upon that momentous occasion. All 
 the barriers were closed, no" passports granted, public 
 conveyances of every description examined ; and, as 
 a great preventive of the possibility of escape, por- 
 traits of Lavalette were sent to the keepers of every 
 gate, in order to render the lineaments of his features 
 familiar to their eyes. Such a dreadful state of public 
 incertitude and apprehension, completely paralyzed 
 the inhabitants of Paris, so that every other consider- 
 ation was of minor importance ; and it has been well
 
 EMILIE DE LAV ALETTE. 315 
 
 said, that but for the interference of three British 
 subjects, no human power could have snatched the 
 victim from his impending fate." But England has 
 ever been the home, and her children the champions, of 
 the distressed. The one presents a sea-girt asylum, 
 on which liberty has upreared its throne ; the other 
 possess the coolness of head, and the calm, yet generous 
 impulse, which enable them to devise, as their 
 courage will successfully consummate, the boldest plan 
 with unfailing energy. All mental resources were 
 needed to insure Lavalette's escape ; but the mode 
 adopted in this case of imperative emergency was as 
 follows : 
 
 As soon as the friends of Lavalette had ascer- 
 tained the impossibility of evading the police, they 
 began to consider, in that forlorn predicament, 
 whether any expedient could be devised, uncon- 
 nected with their own personal interference ; when it 
 was, at length, agreed, that if the count could be 
 rescued at all, it must be through the intervention 
 of the English. As the liberal principles of Mr. 
 Hutchinson, and those who ranked his associates, 
 were known to some of the count's friends, it was 
 determined that a letter should be forwarded to that 
 gentleman, demanding of him whether he was willing 
 to advocate the cause of a persecuted individual, with- 
 out mentioning a name, and that, in case of his reso- 
 lution in the affirmative, he was to repair to a certain 
 spot indicated, in the evening, where he would find a
 
 316 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 gentleman holding a white handkerchief in his hand, 
 to whom he was to address himself. Upon receipt of 
 that anonymous communication, Mr. Hutchinson re- 
 paired to Sir Robert "Wilson, who, having perused its 
 contents, immediately gave it as his opinion that the 
 suffering person alluded to, could be no other than 
 Lavalette himself. Actuated by feelings of genuine 
 philanthropy, he then immediately decided that the 
 appointment proposed in the letter, should be attended 
 to by Mr. Hutchinson, who repaired, accordingly, to 
 the place of rendezvous, where he found the person 
 designated, bearing a white handkerchief, whom he 
 proceeded to address. The unknown immediately 
 demanded whether, if an unfortunate gentleman was 
 committed to his (Mr. Hutchinson's) care, he would 
 use every possible effort to accomplish his preserva- 
 tion ; when, upon receiving an affirmative assurance, 
 the stranger, retiring for a few minutes, returned, 
 accompanied by another individual, who was delivered 
 over to him, with the emphatic word Remember ! 
 Mr. Hutchinson and his protege then walked off, 
 arm-in-arm, to the lodgings of the former, where he 
 remained concealed, until the plan was carried out 
 for passing the frontiers. The means of doing so 
 were supplied by Sir R. Wilson and Messrs. Bruce 
 and Hutchinson. Dressed as an English officer, he 
 went to their quarters, and started at seven in the 
 morning with Sir R. Wilson in the cabriolet. One 
 of the postmasters examined his countenance, and
 
 EMILIE DE LAVALETTE. 317 
 
 recognized him through his disguise. A postilion 
 was instantly sent off at full speed, when Lavalette 
 urged his demand for horses ; but the postmaster 
 had just quitted the house, and given orders that 
 none should be supplied. The travellers, therefore, 
 thought themselves discovered, and saw no means of 
 escaping, in a country with which they were unac- 
 quainted ; and, in consequence, it was resolved that 
 they should defend themselves, and sell their lives 
 dearly. The postmaster, at length, returned unat- 
 tended, and, addressing himself to Lavalette, said, 
 " You have the appearance of honour ; you are going 
 to Brussels, where you will see M. de Lavalette ; 
 deliver him these two hundred louis d'ors that I owe 
 him, and of which he is no doubt in want ;" then, 
 without waiting an answer, he threw the money into 
 the carriage, and withdrew, saying, " You will be 
 drawn by my best horses ; a postilion is gone on to 
 provide relays, for the continuance of your journey." 
 He, at length, arrived at Mons, where he obtained 
 permission to settle at Munich. Five years after, a 
 royal ordinance revoked the sentence of death, and 
 permitted him to rejoin his family in France. 
 
 On the escape of Lavalette being known, his wife, 
 together with Dutoil, Sir Robert Wilson, Messrs. 
 Hutchinson and Bruce, were tried before the Cour 
 Royale. The latter were condemned to a short im- 
 prisonment ; the two women were acquitted. Alas ! 
 the heroic wife never recovered the shock caused to
 
 318 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 her constitution by the risks to which her noble 
 fidelity had exposed her. It is reported that even, 
 the king so far applauded her as .to have said that she 
 alone, of all the parties concerned, had "done her 
 duty." But praise or censure had lost the power to 
 charm or pain : a fixed mental alienation succeeded 
 the efforts she had made ; and when her husband 
 returned, she, whose association had allayed every 
 pang, and whose fortitude had confronted peril, now 
 claimed his sympathy, in the helplessness of prostrated 
 intellect. It was a sad eclipse of so bright a sun : 
 the form he loved was there, but the spirit, which had 
 clung to his through weal and woe, no longer swayed 
 the impulses of that once beauteous being ! 
 
 " Every sense 
 
 Had been o'erstrung by pangs intense. 
 
 And each frail fibre of her brain 
 
 (As bow-strings when relax'd by rain, 
 
 The erring arrow launch aside), 
 
 Sent forth her thoughts all wild and wide."
 
 jfij. 
 
 "This is true philanthropy, that buries not its gold in 
 ostentatious charity, but tmilas its hospital in the human 
 heart." HIKLKV.
 
 BOBN 1780. DIED 1845. 
 
 THE life of this remarkable woman is, to use the 
 words of her daughter and biographer, not " merely 
 valuable as a personal narrative. Her objects and 
 endeavours are interwoven with many of the greatest 
 interests of the day in which she lived. She illustrated 
 a principle the deep debt due from man to man 
 and proved, in her own person, how much human 
 agency, in dependence on Divine assistance, can effect 
 towards raising the fallen and consoling the afflicted. 
 Her work was carried on as indefatigably as though 
 success depended upon her exertions alone, while she 
 sought for Heavenly guidance, and implored a blessing 
 from on high, with as much fervour as though her best 
 powers were of no avail." Elizabeth Fry seems to us, 
 from the first, to have been destined to good and 
 great deeds. Born of highly intellectual parents, she 
 y
 
 322 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 belonged to a numerous family, all of whom were 
 impressed by truths, which many of them lived to 
 illustrate practically ; but it was reserved to her to 
 attain pre-eminence as the champion of misfortune, 
 the guide to penitence, and to leave a name so 
 honoured for its beneficence to the human race, as 
 to become almost a synonyme for Christian phi- 
 lanthropy. Of her universal charity, it might be 
 indeed said that 
 
 "There was no winter in't ; an autumn 'twas 
 That grew the more by reaping." 
 
 It is observed by Aristotle, that action increases our 
 susceptibility to pity, while the repetition of suffering 
 or passion, deadens our sense of pain : the whole life 
 of Mrs. Fry is one bright exemplar of this truth, aug- 
 mented by that highest stimulus, Christian motive. 
 We find no shrinking from the most appalling scenes 
 of woe, from which, originally, her acute sensibilities 
 must have revolted. There is no enshrouding the heart 
 in a selfish panoply of morbid refinement, but through- 
 out her course, we observe one prompt, steady adherence 
 to duty. It is remarkable also, that this paramount 
 influence was manifested in a career not forced upon 
 her, but assumed voluntarily. Moreover, when adopted 
 as a favourite and constant pursuit, it was not per- 
 formed at the sacrifice of other responsibilities. The 
 Dorcas of the gaol, was the indefatigable superin- 
 tendent of her familv : the mother was not forgotten
 
 ELIZABETH FRY. 323 
 
 in the compassionate visitor, nor did the charity of 
 the philanthropist, obliterate the fond affections of the 
 wife. 
 
 Earlham Hall, in the neighbourhood of Norwich, is 
 the pleasant scene of our heroine's first introduction 
 to the public. It is described as possessing peculiar 
 charms. " The house is large, old, and irregular ; 
 placed in the centre of a well- wooded park. The 
 river Wensum, a clear, winding stream, flows by it. 
 Its banks, overhung by an avenue of ancient timber 
 trees, formed a favourite resort of the young people ; 
 there, in the sximmer evenings, they would often meet, 
 to walk, read, or sketch. On the south front of the 
 house extends a noble lawn, flanked by groves of trees 
 growing from a carpet of wild flowers, moss, and long 
 grass." Hither Mr. Gurney, the father of Elizabeth, 
 had removed when she was quite a child, and here 
 was laid, by the judicious teaching of her mother, the 
 foundation of those habits of scientific observation 
 which, in after life, proved constant sources of refresh- 
 ment and recreation to her occasionally jaded spirit. 
 She appears to have been almost wildly attached to 
 this dear mother, who, on her part, thus speaks of her 
 even in her early childhood. " My dove-like 'Betsoy 
 scarcely ever offends, and is, in every sense of the 
 word, truly engaging." Not that her own account 
 seems to point to any extraordinary goodness about 
 her child-life. She was reserved, excessively subject 
 to nervous fears, and accounted stupid and obstinate 
 r 2
 
 324 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 by all but her mother and one or two others. This 
 tender friend, who fully understood the nature of her 
 susceptible and fragile child, was taken from her when 
 she had reached her twelfth year. A severe illness 
 was probably the first awakening process to lead her 
 to serious thought ; but owing to circumstances, the 
 attraction to what in the first instance was natural 
 rather than revealed religion, was not destined for 
 some years to bear visible fruit. Her journal "is 
 replete with desires after ' virtue ' and ' truth.' 
 She seeks and finds God in His works, but as yet 
 she had not found Him as He stands revealed in the 
 page of Inspiration." 
 
 There is no doubt Elizabeth Gurney's mind was 
 more thoughtfully inclined than that of girls of her 
 age ; but the word in due season, which was to 
 transform her into the earnest worker as well as 
 dreamer, was destined to be spoken in the year 1798, 
 when William Savery, an American, of the same 
 denomination to which the Gurney family belonged, 
 the Society of Friends, came to preach at Norwich, 
 and spoke so convincingly upon the stupendous doc- 
 trine of the Atonement, that the glad tidings of 
 salvation gradually became the fixed consideration 
 of her life. There is reason to suppose that at this 
 period of the seed's early growth, she might have 
 adopted some less strict, not to say more legitimate 
 and warranted, form of Christianity ; but, surrounded 
 as she was by the formulas and associations of one
 
 ELIZABETH FRY. 325 
 
 particular sect, it is not wonderful that she fell into 
 its characteristic peculiarity of system, especially at a 
 period when extreme asceticism seemed necessary to 
 her self-denying principles, to correct the originally 
 worldly tendencies of a light-hearted temperament. 
 Be that, however, as it may, Elizabeth Gurney con- 
 tinued throughout her life a Quakeress ; nor do 
 we find in her the least trace of narrow-mindedness 
 or intolerance. 
 
 Now commenced those habits of visiting her poorer 
 neighbours, and of general sympathy and instruction 
 to all who needed them, which her future career 
 developed. She established a school, and soon had 
 seventy scholars, who were managed by herself with- 
 out assistance. " How she controlled the wills, and 
 fixed the attention of so many unruly children, must 
 ever remain a mystery to those who have not the gift 
 she possessed, of influencing the minds of others." He> 
 schemes for local usefulness were soon, however, to be 
 set aside for a sphere of more extended influence, for 
 Elizabeth received an offer of marriage from Mr. 
 Joseph Fry, a banker residing in London, and became 
 his wife shortly after she had attained her twentieth 
 year, the wedding being celebrated at the Friends' 
 Meeting House, in Norwich. 
 
 From this period until the birth of her sixth child, 
 closely followed by the death of her beloved father, 
 Mrs. Fry's life flowed smoothly on, in a round oi 
 domestic and other unostentatious virtues, which en-
 
 326 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 deared her to all who had the privilege of her care or 
 sympathy. In the year 1811, she was publicly acknow- 
 ledgedbythe Society of Friends, as one of their ministers, 
 and her biographer remarks upon the circumstance as 
 follows : " This commenced a new era in the life of Eliza- 
 beth Fry. To discuss the question of woman's ministry 
 would be irrelevant here. One thing, however, is obvious, 
 that it was as a minister of the Society of Friends, and 
 as such only, shielded by its discipline and controlled 
 by its supervision, that she could have carried out her 
 peculiar vocation in the world and the church." The 
 entries in her journal as to her impressions at this 
 time, are very interesting, and afford, occasionally, 
 striking contrast with the spirit of Christian liberality, 
 which characterized her in after-years. A great 
 portion of her time was spent at Plashet in Essex, the 
 former residence of her husband's parents, and here 
 she speedily set on foot her usual plans for the improve- 
 ment and instruction of those around her, though it 
 was not until the year 1813 that we find recorded in her 
 journal, her first visit to the female felons in Newgate. 
 We will not distress our readers by the affecting 
 details of mis-called prison discipline, nor of those 
 flagrant abuses which, under the very eye of law, 
 encouraged rather than diminished crime, by destroy- 
 ing the last remnant of self-respect in the criminal. 
 The condition of the female convicts was a disgrace to 
 any civilised community. Four rooms, comprising 
 about 190 superficial yards, were crowded with nearly
 
 ELIZABETH FRY. 327 
 
 300 women, besides their children, without classifica- 
 tion or employment, and with no other superintend- 
 ence than that of a man and his son ! Into this scene 
 Mrs. Fry entered with a sister of Sir T. F. Buxton, 
 impelled by that noble spirit of charity which 
 deems 
 
 " It were a happy lot if, every day, 
 One had the power some act of grace to do, 
 Some pious hope or effort to renew ; 
 Where Hope had swoon'd, and strength been swept away 
 By suffering or grief. 
 
 He who one sore doth salve, one hurt doth heal, 
 Hath founts of joy no world can make impure." 
 
 Henceforth, her life was divided into public and 
 private streams of benevolence, before the influence 
 of which, moral contamination yielded, which had de- 
 fied the cruel indifference, or official perverseness, of 
 the legislature ; whilst under the benign aspect of such 
 a character, virtues grew up in the household, and 
 even in the prison. It is, of course, unnecessary to 
 remark, that the first and chief impediment to her 
 plans, was derived from the crass ignorance of the 
 government and its agents ; as in similar cases, Mrs. 
 Fry presents a painful proof that improvements, even 
 of the most important character, emanate from indivi- 
 duals, and are generally opposed by those in power. 
 She was told that her efforts were exceedingly 
 praiseworthy, but would be unsuccessful. The usual 
 cold acquiescence, the half-sneering patronage, 
 was all she could command from officials whose
 
 328 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 selfish apathy connived at the semi-barbarous con- 
 dition of hundreds of their fellow-creatures, while 
 their consciences never rose to condemn the judicial 
 murder of their brethren and sisters, whose lives 
 were deemed only equivalent to the value of a 
 horse, a sheep, or a ten-pound note. Those who 
 think that men, placed in even the highest posi- 
 tions, cannot easily forget their responsibilities, should 
 turn to the dreadful records of our law of blood, 
 against which Mrs. Fry was among the first to raise 
 her voice, when judges in ermine and bishops in lawn 
 could tamely acquiesce in such unchristian exhibitions. 
 After a time, those who prophesied her failure, were 
 surprised at, and compelled to admit her success. A 
 school was established in Newgate, associations for the 
 benefit of criminals instituted ; the thanks of the civic 
 functionaries testified their appreciation of her efforts ; 
 and her examinations before the House of Commons 
 shamed the legislature, at last, into feeling and action. 
 The words of the report, while clinging to a difficulty, 
 allow indisputable encomium to her efforts : " The be- 
 nevolent exertions of Mrs. Fry and her friends have 
 produced the most gratifying change ; but much must 
 be ascribed to unremitting personal attention and in- 
 fluence." Yes, her attention was indeed unremitting ; 
 but, fortunately for the country, her influence did 
 not die with her; on the contrary, it survived to 
 change the aspect of the law, into something like 
 retrieval, not revenge, and its operation is now felt
 
 ELIZABETH FRY. 329 
 
 throughout those numerous reformatories and syste- 
 matic improvements in prison discipline, which prevail, 
 so that, we trust, the day will shortly arrive she so 
 longed to witness, when all capital punishments shall 
 be abrogated, nor that life which was given by God, be 
 ever, under any circumstances, withdrawn by man. 
 
 The details of her career, it will strike the reader, are 
 so full, that, while presenting an almost inexhaustible 
 fund of instructive thought, they must yet, necessarily, 
 be somewhat repetitive. Like the work of the benefi- 
 cent Author of our being, that of the charitable person 
 is constantly the same. There may occur, indeed, 
 startling incidents, arising from peculiar circumstances 
 or individual cases ; but it is the glory of benevolence 
 to be uniform, and, as the river flows steadily onwards 
 in its course, fructifying and sanitary, yet deep and 
 noiseless, so Christian charity is never more potent than 
 when unostentatious, its uninterruptedness attesting 
 its power. In her household, she had many troubles, 
 and one of the marvels of her being is, how, notwith- 
 standing the management of so large a family, this 
 mother of eleven children, whose spirituality and 
 wisdom rendered her the sought-for upon all occasions, 
 the "friend in need," in the truest sense of the 
 word, to every member of her relationship and ac- 
 quaintance, to say nothing of the discourses which, con- 
 sistent with the custom of her sect, she delivered, 
 contrived to discharge such important public functions 
 as constitute her the first great reformer of the
 
 330 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 criminal code. It was necessary to travel in further- 
 ance of her plans, and forthwith Scotland, Ireland, 
 France, Switzerland, and Holland, were visited. Whilst 
 in Scotland she inspected the gaols, and had her atten- 
 tion first drawn, it would appear, to the frightful 
 treatment of the insane. On one occasion, when 
 visiting an asylum, a young man was observed to 
 listen attentively to her reading some passages ol 
 holy Scripture, a habit with her, wherever she went. 
 Though usually more violent than his companions, he 
 became subdued even to tears. When she finished 
 reading, he exclaimed to her, " The angels have lent 
 you their voices !" Thus even madness owned the 
 power of pity. 
 
 Mrs. Fry deplored the feeling, too prevalent amongst 
 her immediate connections, that the Bible was to be 
 approached as a sort of sacred mystery ; and, not- 
 withstanding her other avocations, she found time to 
 select passages of Scripture, for every day in the year, 
 combining them into a form calculated to be every- 
 where useful, and easily carried about the person. 
 Of these she distributed thousands. Where have 
 not these little text - books penetrated, from the 
 monarch's hall to the felon's dungeon 1 An instance 
 may be here recorded. " Two or three years 
 after their publication, a text-book, bound in red 
 leather, which she had given to a little grandson, fell 
 out of his pocket at the Lynn Mart, where he had 
 gone to visit the lions. He was a very little boy,
 
 ELIZABETH FRY. 331 
 
 and much disconcerted at the loss of his book, for 
 his name was in it, and that it was the gift of his 
 grandmother, written by herself. The transaction 
 was almost forgotten, when, nearly a year afterwards, 
 the Eev. Richardson Coxe, the clergyman of Watling- 
 ton, a parish about eight miles from Lynn, gave the 
 following history of the lost book. He had been sent 
 for, to the wife of a man living on a wild common at 
 the outskirts of his parish, of notorious character, 
 between poacher and rat-catcher. The message was 
 brought to the clergyman by the medical man who 
 attended her, and who, after describing her as being 
 most strangely altered, added, ' You will find the lion 
 become a lamb ; and so it proved. She who had been 
 wild and rough, whose language had been violent and 
 her conduct untamed, lay on a bed of exceeding suffer- 
 ing, humble, patient, and resigned. Her child had 
 picked up the text-book, and carried it home as a 
 lawful spoil. Cariosity, or some feeling put into her 
 heart by Him, without whose leave a sparrow falleth 
 not to the ground, had induced her to read it. The 
 word had been blessed to her, and ' her understanding 
 opened' to receive the gospel of truth. She could not 
 describe the process, but the results were there. Sin 
 had in her sight become hateful ; blasphemy was no 
 longer heard from her lips. She drew from under her 
 pillow ' her precious book, her dear little book,' which 
 had ' taken away the fear of death.' She died soon 
 afterwards, 'filled with joy and hope in believing,'
 
 332 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 having, in these detached portions of Scripture, found 
 a Saviour all-sufficient to bear her heavy burden 
 of guilt, and present her, clad in his own spotless 
 righteousness, before the throne of God." 
 
 Queen Charlotte was informed of Mrs. Fry's extra- 
 ordinary exertions, and expressed a desire to see her, 
 testifying her high appreciation of such unselfishness 
 and devotion. Later on, we find her paying a visit to 
 her present Majesty, then Princess Victoria. Her 
 name was becoming of world-wide celebrity ; but, 
 amidst all, the same unpretending and self-forgetting 
 nature invests her character. Unfortunately, her 
 health grew greatly impaired, from over-fatigue and 
 anxiety ; but she rallied, and set herself fresh tasks 
 of benevolence, only ceasing from the good work 
 when her strength was indeed and entirely spent. 
 As increasing age and infirmity prevented her from 
 more active employment, she occupied herself with a 
 correspondence which had, by degrees, become enor- 
 mous ; with arranging and sorting Bibles, Testaments, 
 and tracts ; in applications to the Bible Society for 
 grants both in England and abroad. Death had 
 been busy with numerous members of her family, 
 and " sorrow upon sorrow " formed sometimes the 
 burden of her wounded spirit. Yet the " regulation 
 of her mind, and her established self-discipline, were 
 at this period very instructive ; her health infirm, her 
 spirits broken, she persevered as much as possible in 
 regular habits and certain hours for different occupa-
 
 ELIZABLTH FRY. 333 
 
 tions ; in no degree refusing to be comforted, willing 
 to be diverted, driving out in the carriage, or on fine 
 days drawn in her little pony chair, while some of the 
 party walked by her side. 
 
 On the 3rd of June preceding her death, the annual 
 meeting of the Ladies' British Socity was held at Plais- 
 tow for her convenience. On this occasion she " had 
 the happiness of knowing that Newgate, Bridewell, 
 the Millbank Prison, the Giltspur-street Compter, 
 Whitecross-street Prison, Tothill-fields Prison,, and 
 Coldbath-fields Prison, were all in a state of com- 
 parative order ; some exceedingly well arranged, and 
 the female convicts in all, visited and cared for by 
 ladies. Varying according to their circumstances 
 and requirements, the prisons generally throughout 
 England were much improved, and, in the greater 
 number, ladies encouraged to visit the female con- 
 victs." 
 
 In the August of the same year, Mrs. Fry was re- 
 moved to Ramsgate, which had been considered likely 
 to benefit her failing health ; but who can postpone 
 the end ? Fitful changes kept the hopes and fears of 
 her relatives in a constant state of alternation. On 
 the 10th of October, she appeared better, but shortly 
 after was seized with a paralytic attack, which, though 
 it at first did not render her speechless, yet gradually 
 deepened into the thick pall which hid her mental 
 being from communication with those around her. 
 The last words she spoke were, " Oh ! my dear Lord,
 
 334 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 help and keep Thy servant ; " an ejaculation strongly 
 coincident with a passage in Isaiah, which one of her 
 daughters had open in her hand. " I the Lord thy 
 God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear 
 not, thou worm Jacob, and ye men of Israel ; I will 
 help thee, saith the Lord, and thy Redeemer the Holy 
 One of Israel." Subsequently, one gleam of intelli- 
 gence passed across her face, and the light of the 
 soul upon the external world vanished for ever. 
 She had alluded, during one of her passing conflicts, 
 to the impressions affecting her, in the striking 
 words, " But I am safe ! " and those who saw the 
 quiet of the earthly tabernacle, the painless passage, 
 except for one short struggle of the vital element, 
 felt that the expression was a witness of her heart's fixed 
 faith, and that she, who had so long been the harbinger 
 -of God's mercy to the sinful and the lost, was already 
 in the presence of angels, and of Him whom she had 
 so closely followed. 
 
 At her funeral vast numbers attended, to listen, not 
 as is too often the case, to the language of inflated 
 eulogy, but to the avowal endorsed by the experience 
 of all, that in her a nation had sustained a loss. 
 But though the material torch was extinguished, 
 the gleam of holy acts remains, an undying testi- 
 mony of the endless good achieved by the influence 
 of individual example. Her career could not pass 
 away. Like a ray or sunbeam falling into some dark- 
 ened chamber, her philanthropy excited a nation's
 
 ELIZABETH FRY. 335 
 
 enterprise, and gave a stimulus to criminal reformation, 
 which, has gone on increasing to the present hour. 
 During her life, constant attestations of grateful love 
 from those whom she had snatched " as brands from 
 the burning," invigorated the persevering energy of her 
 Christian charity ; but it is since she has entered into 
 her rest, that the full fruit of her labours has been realized. 
 Of such a woman, volumes might be written ; nor can 
 we pay too high a tribute to those whose ability and 
 afiection have secured to the world full memorials of this 
 distinguished heroine ; but to sum up all, two elements 
 appear as the columns of her character, without which 
 no permanent success in God's work can be ascer- 
 tained, nay even the impulse of the most loving disposi- 
 tion will be fragile and inconsistent. She knew Whom 
 she believed, and this knowledge she endeavoured to 
 enunciate to others, as taught to herself by constant 
 application to the Spirit and Word of her Saviour. 
 
 " The Christian beam 
 Illuminated Faith, and bade her trust 
 All that might happen, to the will of Heaven. 
 New force iuspired her, and her strengthen'd soul 
 Felt energy divine. 
 
 She, with a smile, beheld Misfortune's face, 
 And thought the weight of miseries a trial. 
 The Heavenly precepts brighten'd to her mind, 
 No useful part of duty left behind. 
 Here the consenting principles unite, 
 A beam Divine directs her steps aright, 
 And shows the mortal in the Christian light ! "
 
 ntstii, or IJntstobui, f ouploff. 
 
 " Kings, like trees, are not sent to impoverish a land, but to 
 refresh with their shadow ; shelter by their influence ; nourish 
 by their productiveness, and support by their strength." 
 
 O. F. OWEX.
 
 0r twim, f rajrafaff. 
 
 BOEN 1791. DIED 1810. 
 
 IN the physical world the most luscious fruits 
 are found upon the most arid soil : the vine, the 
 melon, the pomegranate, yield their juices in greatest 
 exuberance, to refresh the parched lips of the weary 
 traveller over the wilderness of sand. So is it in the 
 moral world j and in the story of filial piety, which a 
 few years ago, through Madame Cottin's narrative of 
 the " Exiles of Siberia," was a class-book amongst 
 all ranks, we find the wild and bleak fortunes of the 
 exile, like those scenes of desolation he inhabited, 
 teeming with the richest germs of heroic virtue. 
 
 Notwithstanding the popularity of Madame Cottin's 
 story, it has been well remarked that the authentic 
 incidents in the life of the heroine Prascowja Lupo- 
 lowa, are more pathetic than when coloured by 
 imagination. Still the clever authoress conveyed so
 
 310 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 much of the real details, and the latter have become 
 so extensively known, as almost to supersede the neces- 
 sity of a very full analysis ; especially in a work 
 which, though compelled by its subject-matter to forego 
 mere novelty, would yet bring before its readers less 
 trite recollections. 
 
 Born before the exile of her father, an officer in the 
 Russian service, but who for some unknown crime, or 
 more probably a victim to court intrigue, was banished 
 to Ischim, in Siberia, the earliest years of this child 
 of misfortune were doomed to witness the regrets, and 
 even the bodily sufferings, of her parents. The wild 
 steppes of an uncivilized region, whose atmosphei-e 
 was an appropriate type of the haz-sh tyranny which 
 doomed some of the best and bravest to protracted 
 misery, failed to daunt a heroism which, even in 
 childhood, partook of a strongly devotional character. 
 Often did this fair spirit soothe the regrets of the 
 banished soldier ; nor was it until she perceived that 
 the government allowance to exiles was insufficient to 
 sustain her parents, that she relinquished her favourite 
 employment of building little chapels during the winter, 
 and realized a mission of a severer and more absorbing 
 duty. 
 
 Contented as she had been in labouring to augment 
 their scanty means, by almost servile drudgery ; and 
 ignorant, except by the too frequent and regretful 
 reminiscences of her parents, that the world presented 
 any more attractive scene than the desolation which
 
 PRASCA LOUPOULOFF. 341 
 
 had lost its ruggedness from habitual association with 
 her good acts ; she suddenly surprised her father in the 
 midst of angry invectives against the Government ; dis- 
 covered the cruelty and injustice which had oppressed 
 him ; and learned that the thought which robbed his 
 heart of peace, was the painful anticipation that his 
 child should consume her days, in such a fearful region. 
 It is very well for painters and poets to throw a 
 delusive halo around human suffering, and every 
 one, says Pope, " can bear another's misfortunes like 
 a Christian;" but judgment, even in its calmest 
 moments, cannot fail to condemn, with just severity, 
 those tyrants whom, unfortunately, events now passing 
 at the time at which we write prove, to be not banished 
 from the earth, but from whom all sympathy with 
 human woe is as far removed, as the victims of their 
 oppression are from liberty. 
 
 The child's resolution was taken, and, as might be 
 expected, the first opposition came from those she 
 sought to save. Her plan, to take a message in person 
 to the emperor, was received with scornful ridicule, 
 or scarcely less contemptuous tenderness. At last it 
 was agreed that she should abandon her project, so 
 long as her father repressed the slightest sign of dis- 
 content at his condition. The pressure of his mis- 
 fortunes soon relieved her from her promise, and 
 when the brief Siberian summer came round, she, 
 through the agency of a friend, being unable to write 
 herself, obtained a passport from the governor. This
 
 OiZ DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 preliminary proof of her persevering fidelity to her 
 parents, affected them both, and they could only urge 
 the length of the journey, 800 leagues, and the dif- 
 ficulty of obtaining access to the emperor, until finally 
 ascertaining the nature of their child's unshaken, will, 
 and perhaps, with that strange mystery of hope, cling- 
 ing to what reason would deem but a visionary sup- 
 port, they gave a reluctant consent that she should 
 set out the ensuing summer, trusting in the Friend of 
 the helpless for success. 
 
 Human nature never appears so pitiful or mean, as 
 when it detracts from, or opposes the virtues, it is too 
 cowardly to imitate. Prasca experienced this, when, 
 at the commencement of her fearful undertaking, only 
 two inhabitants of the district, who had known and 
 loved her long, encouraged her by their words, and 
 gifts. The latter she refused, nor would she take 
 pecuniary assistance even from her parents. After 
 a journey of five leagues, she stopped to obtain shelter 
 at the abode of a peasant, to whom she was by name 
 known. "When the morning came, she again set for- 
 ward, but mistook her way, and travelled several 
 miles to no purpose : her energy, nevertheless, sus- 
 tained her, and she continued her weary journey, 
 getting food and rest at the various huts she 
 reached as far as she might. Many times she met 
 with scorn and derision when her object was made 
 known, occasionally with generous consideration suited 
 to the magnitude of the enterprise she had in hand ;
 
 PRASCA LOUPOULOFF. 343 
 
 constantly she received help and shelter, and so sus- 
 tained, she passed onward slowly but surely, lessening 
 each day the distance which separated her, from the 
 place where were centred all her wishes. 
 
 Once, sleeping heavily after a day's excessive fatigue, 
 she was awakened by the owners of the cottage, and 
 listening anxiously, found them discussing herself! At 
 length the woman, coming to the place where she 
 slept, shook her rudely, desiring that she would pro- 
 duce the money she possessed. Prasca showed the 
 eighty copecks she had in her purse. " You could not 
 get to St. Petersburg with so small a sum," they 
 exclaimed ; but searching her, and finding no more, 
 they left her at length to her slumbers. Her night 
 was an unquiet one, but morning arrived, and she 
 hastened to pursue her journey. The old man was 
 stirring. " Here," he said, " are your eighty copecks ; 
 go, and may Heaven preserve you !" When, at a short 
 distance, Prasca stopped to count over her little pro- 
 perty, she found that the worthy but strangely man- 
 nered couple, had added to her store, and that she 
 now possessed one hundred and twenty, instead of 
 eighty copecks. 
 
 A band of the wild dogs which infest this part ot 
 Asia had nearly proved the death of our poor young 
 heroine. Her characteristic courage did not, however, 
 forsake her. Falling down on her face, she kept the 
 creatures effectually at bay, until some assistance ap- 
 neared; but tlie shock to her nervous system \vus
 
 344 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 great, and doubtless contributed to the weakness 
 which afterwards took possession of her. 
 
 At length her weary steps approached Ekathe- 
 rinembourg, a town on the confines of Asia ; but her 
 strength was failing fast, and she found it impossible 
 to proceed further on foot. The sledges going to that 
 town with provisions for Christmas, were expected 
 shortly, and Prasca was fortunate enough to secure a 
 ride forward upon moderate terms. Her clothes were 
 worn out, the intense cold chilled her very heai't, but 
 the drivers of the sledges agreed among themselves to 
 lend her their pelisses in turn, and by means of this 
 timely charity, she reached their destination in safety. 
 
 A friend was now raised up to Prasca in Madame 
 Milin, a lady noted for her benevolence, who, ~not 
 content with affording her temporary assistance, kept 
 her during the severe months of the winter, and who 
 instilled no less instruction into her mind than she 
 evinced careful hospitality by the nourishment of her 
 body. Under the guidance of this excellent woman, 
 Prasca's natural thoughtfulness became deepened in the 
 foundations of religious knowledge ; and superstition, 
 the crude creed of the intellect, was exchanged for 
 something wiser and better, elevating the intelligence, 
 and solacing the soul. To quote the words of a 
 beautiful writer, " There are those to whom a sense of 
 religion has come in storm and tempest : there are 
 those whom it has summoned amid scenes of revelry 
 and idle vanity : there are those, too, who have heard
 
 PRASCA LOUPOULOFK. 345 
 
 its ' still small voice ' amid rural leisure and placid 
 contentment. But perhaps the knowledge which 
 causeth not to err, is most frequently impressed upon 
 the mind during seasons of affliction ; and tears are 
 the softened showers which cause the seed of heaven 
 to spring and take root in the human breast." Prasca 
 felt it to be so. 
 
 As soon as the weather became sufficiently favour- 
 able, the good Samaritan, Madame Milin, allowed her 
 interesting protegee to depart. She took a place for 
 her in a boat going to Nijeni, and provided her with 
 money and clothes, as well as with a letter of intro- 
 duction to some friends in Moscow. On the voyage 
 the young Siberian had nearly lost her life. She was 
 precipitated with two more of the passengers into the 
 Wolga, and rescued with considerable difficulty. The 
 necessity of keeping on her wet clothes, there being 
 no opportunity in a small boat of changing them, 
 brought on a violent cold, and this acting upon a 
 constitution already enfeebled by premature fatigue 
 and privation, doubtless laid the foundation of the 
 disorder which closed her short and eventful life. So 
 ill was the poor girl on arriving at the end of her 
 voyage, that the nuns of the convent, who had been 
 prepared by Madame Milin to receive her, would on 
 no account permit her to go on, until her strength 
 should be more established : the interval of delay was 
 a bitter one to her anxious heart, and when she wished 
 once more to travel, no sledges could traverse the
 
 346 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 roads. As soon as a fall of snow rendered this mode 
 of transit practicable, Prasca again set forth. The 
 abbess of the convent of Ijeni, struck with the 
 mixture of childish beauty and almost womanly intel- 
 ligence she presented, would gladly have bound her 
 by vow to return and end her days in the vocation 
 for which her tastes seemed to fit her. She refused, 
 saying that she could not promise any disposition of 
 her future life, until she discovered the will of God 
 respecting her ; yet, were she suffered to complete her 
 holy mission, inclination would prompt her to choose 
 this convent as her last resting-place. At length they 
 let her depart with many tears, and she pursued her 
 journey to Moscow, and thence to St. Petersburg, 
 arriving in that city at the expiration of eighteen 
 months from the date of her first leaving Ischim. 
 
 Here, perhaps, came the true sense upon her of her 
 helplessness and difficulty. She had been accustomed 
 to the loneliness of nature, not to the solitude of cities, 
 and the blood rushed back to her heart as ifc realized, 
 for the first time, the insignificance of the atom, when 
 surrounded by myriads of living beings, bound to it 
 by not one tie of sympathy. Alone in a city of 
 palaces, wealth and luxury, tyranny and servitude, 
 the arrogant brutality of a semi-barbarous people, 
 whose laws, culminating in the arbitrary will of 
 one, sacrificed life, if the serf dared but sigh, and 
 crushed the emotions of the heart, into one shapeless 
 mass of plastic servility to despotism, what chance
 
 PRASCA LOUrOULOFF. 347 
 
 had a young unfriended girl, against such odds as 
 these ? Paralyzed by a sense of loneliness, and sud- 
 denly called upon to confront all shapes and kinds of 
 obstacles, which human crime, folly, or perverseness 
 could present, it was the justice of her cause, and 
 the energy which is imparted to the soul by the 
 innate conviction, that the God of justice is ever 
 present to maintain it, which supported her, as she 
 tasted the bitter truth, that real solitude is not upon 
 the tops of mountains, in the abysses of caves, or the 
 howling recesses of forests, but in large cities ; where 
 the individual life and being, may throb and hope, and 
 die, unnoticed ; where the eye wanders restlessly for 
 one responsive look of love, and finds it not ; and 
 where the heart, in its wildest emotions of agony 
 and despair, pants out its last unavailing sob, upon 
 the pulseless void of a breathing wilderness, and dies, 
 without an echo ! 
 
 Prasca lived for her parents, and the memory of 
 them made her conscious that 
 
 " Through the wide world he only is aloue 
 Who lives not for another." 
 
 Arrived at the scene of her mission, no yielding to 
 the exhaustion of physical power, was permitted to 
 retard her purpose. She had made a friend during 
 her journey, of a merchant in easy circumstances, 
 the family took her in, and did all they could for 
 her, but they were utterly incompetent to give any 
 advice as to the means of attaining the object of her
 
 348 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 mission. Thus left to her own resources, the pale, 
 melancholy-looking girl might have been seen, day 
 after day, standing on the steps leading to the Senate- 
 house, and offering a petition, roughly drawn up by 
 some inefficient hand, to every person likely to assist 
 her. Of course, none received it ; she was taken 
 for a common beggar, and once, when she summoned 
 courage to ascend the staircase, she was seized by the 
 shoulders by a Jack-in-office, and rudely thrust out. 
 Thus passed two miserable weeks, until the arrival of 
 Easter broke up the session, and rendered further 
 visits for the present impossible. 
 
 There are two versions of the means by which she 
 ultimately gained her purpose. One represents her 
 as obtaining, by the kindness of a lady, a friend 
 of Madame Milin's, an introduction to the Countess 
 
 L , who interested a Russian nobleman of great 
 
 influence in her suit. Through him her story created 
 such effect at court, as to engage first the patronage 
 of the empress and the empress-mother, and lastly of 
 the Czar himself. 
 
 The other account is more graphic, and represents 
 her as hopelessly returning from the Senate-house, 
 when the words of a friend, that she might just as 
 well seek a favour from the bronze statue of Peter 
 the Great, as from his successor, induced her to place 
 in the hands of the figure, the petition which every 
 one else rejected. The act, as might have been 
 expected, created much curiosity ; and one of the
 
 Prasca Loupoulcff on the Steps of tne Senate House. P. 3!3.
 
 PRASCA LOUPOULOFF. 349 
 
 princesses having inquired what was its object, re- 
 ceived from the girl the striking reply, that, " trust- 
 ing in God, she hoped He would make the emperor 
 descend to her, if she could not ascend to him." 
 The answer awoke the lady's sympathy, by whom 
 she was introduced at court. Upon approaching the 
 throne, she kissed the steps, and implored God to 
 excite towards her father the clemency of the ruling 
 occupant. There is a further difference in the 
 statement, that the emperor restricted, at first, his 
 acquiescence to any favour she might have to ask for 
 herself ; but this somewhat equivocal generosity is 
 altered by others to the direct grant of a recall to 
 John Loupouloff, and the concurrence with Prasca's 
 entreaty for a pardon to the two poor exiles who 
 had encouraged and aided her, at the commence- 
 ment of her undertaking. She withdrew with a 
 heart overflowing with gratitude ; and, doubtless, in 
 that moment, the monarch's conscience repaid him 
 for his act of clemency ; that virtue which adorns 
 a throne with more true wealth of happiness, than if 
 the exile's child had added whole provinces to his 
 empire, or extended his power beyond the uncertainty 
 of fortune. 
 
 But her work being done, 
 
 "The angel, with the amaranthine wreath, 
 Pausing descended ; and with a voice divine 
 Whispered a word that had a sound like death." 
 
 Although she reached Novogorod, and was spared
 
 350 DOMESTIC HE110IXES. 
 
 to hear from her parents, accents of gratitude and 
 love, broken by heartfelt sorrow, as they wept over 
 their fragile liberator, now about to submit to the 
 pale sovereign who sways all earth and its denizens, 
 yet the blow had been too surely stricken to 
 afford the least hope of her recovery ; and anxiety 
 and fatigue brought on premature decline. One nar- 
 rative represents her as expiring on the eve of the 
 day marked for her parents' arrival, December 8th, 
 1809, her last words expressing a conviction that 
 " she should see them in heaven." She died, after 
 having assumed the veil among the nuns of Ijeni, to 
 whom she redeemed her conditional promise with 
 the same fidelity which characterized her every act. 
 Another recital, after giving a striking proof of her 
 constant sympathy with the poor, stimulated by the 
 recollection of her own misery, authenticates the 
 fact, that her means were augmented by an order 
 from the empress-mother of three hundred gold roubles 
 from her private purse, and a promise of a consider- 
 able pension, but her altered circumstances were only of 
 brief duration. Again, in a note to Madame Cottin'a 
 work, " Elizabeth ; or, the Exiles of Siberia," we read, 
 " Elle mourut a Novogorod en 1810, six ans apres 
 son gcnereux devouement. Son pere avait e"te exilS 
 en Siberie in 1798." Whatever discrepancy, how- 
 ever, may exist about dates, there is none as to the 
 calmness and resignation with which she met her end.
 
 PRASCA LOUPOULOFF. 351 
 
 "We subjoin the following extract, republished from 
 the French : 
 
 " It was on the 1st of October Prasca departed this 
 life. The ground had for some days past been covered 
 with snow, but the weather was unusually fine, and 
 the sun shone brightly. She was sitting at a window 
 that overlooked the high-road, and appeared to be 
 gazing with pleasure on the pure white landscape. 
 A young woman who attended on her said, 
 
 " You are better, I am sure. I have not seen you 
 look as you do now for these many weeks past." 
 
 " Yes," answered Prasca, " I am better every day, 
 and I hope to be well soon. It cannot now be long 
 before my spirit will be released from the burden 
 of the flesh. I never felt it so light and free as at 
 this moment." 
 
 Suddenly a sledge the first that had been seen 
 that year came up, and drove rapidly along the road 
 in the direction of Petersburg. Prasca' s heart beat 
 violently ; the recollections of past sufferings and 
 dangers rushed back upon her mind at the well-known 
 sight ; a change came over her countenance, and she 
 begged her attendant to lay her on the bed, and call 
 together her parents and friends to pray with her. 
 Her hands were clasped in the attitude of devotion ; 
 but before the young woman returned, she had ceased 
 to breathe.
 
 : aralj litartin* 
 
 " Hail ! heavenly piety, supremely fair ! 
 Whose smiles can calm the horrors of despair, 
 Bid in each breast unusual transports flow, 
 And wipe the tears that stain the cheek of woe. 
 How blest the man who leaves each meaner scene, 
 Like thee, exalted, smiling and serene ! 
 Whose rising soul pursues a nobler flight, 
 Whose bosom melts with more refined delight ; 
 Whose thoughts, elate with transports all sublime, 
 Can soar at once beyond the views of time ; 
 Till, loosed from earth, as angels unconfined, 
 He flies, aerial, on the darting wind ; 
 Free as the keen-eyed eagle bears away, 
 And mounts the regions of eternal day." 
 
 OGILVEJ. 
 
 2 A
 
 BORN 1791. DIED 1343. 
 
 THE formerly quiet fishing-town of Yarmouth is 
 fast growing into a fashionable watering-place. Within 
 a mile or two of it, visitors are taken to a dull little 
 village, containing the ruins of a castle. A few years 
 ago, the unpretending hamlet offered a yet more 
 interesting object than this half-demolished relic of 
 brick and stone-work. It was the home of Sarah 
 Martin, a prison benefactress, scarcely second to Mrs. 
 Fry in the boldness of her designs, or the success of 
 her ministrations. 
 
 Left an orphan at a very early age, and entirely 
 dependent upon a relative for support, it became 
 speedily necessary that Sarah, born of humble parents, 
 should, like them, gain her own livelihood. She was 
 placed with a dressmaker for a few months, and, at 
 the expiration of that time, commenced business for 
 2 A 2
 
 356 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 herself, by going out to daily needlework in Yarmouth 
 and its neighbourhood. The girl had been taught to 
 read and write acquisitions of incalculable benefit to 
 her who was destined to employ all her endowments 
 in the interest of her fellow-creatures. 
 
 Passing to and fro on her work, Sarah's thoughts 
 were often drawn to the prison, situated on her road. 
 She had heard something of the condition of the 
 criminals confined there, and her imagination filled up 
 the outline. Tales of cells below ground, where a 
 ray of the blessed sunshine never penetrated, mingled 
 in her mind with the thought of Sundays passed within 
 those melancholy walls, Sundays utterly misused and 
 worse than unsanctified, for there was no service 
 then within the prison, nothing to remind the miser- 
 able and abandoned inmates that the holy day of rest 
 and self-communion was come, to infuse strength into 
 the tired and overwrought heart for the remainder 
 of the week. The idea of sufferings she could not 
 alleviate was ever present, and, after some years, the 
 desire grew so strong to enter, and judge in person of 
 the possibility of inducing a better state of things, that 
 it could no longer be opposed. In the latter part of 
 the year 1819, a woman was imprisoned in Yarmouth 
 gaol, whose case filled the gentle mind of Sarah Martin 
 with mingled horror and pity. It is interesting to 
 hear from her the manner in which her wish was 
 gratified. " Years ago," she says, " I began to experi- 
 ence a strong desire to obtain admission to the prisoners
 
 SARAH MARTIX 357 
 
 to read the Scriptures to them ; for I thought much 
 of their condition, and of their sin before God ; how 
 they were shut out from society whose rights they had 
 violated, and how destitute they were of the scriptural 
 instruction which alone could meet their unhappy 
 circumstances. I did not make known my purpose of 
 seeking admission to the gaol until the object was 
 attained, even to my beloved grandmother ; so sensi- 
 tive was my fear lest any obstacle should thereby arise 
 in my way, and the project seem a visionary one. 
 God led me, and I consulted none but Him." After 
 some trouble, Sarah was admitted ; she inquired for the 
 woman she desired to speak to, who came, surprised 
 at the sight of a stranger. " When I told her," 
 goes on Sarah, " the motive of my visit, of her guilt, 
 and of her need of God's mercy, she burst into tears, 
 and thanked me." 
 
 Upon this single token of encouragement, Sarah 
 commenced a series of regularly-organized visits to the 
 prison. She began to read to the culprits, but soon 
 made time to instruct them in reading and writing. 
 Her leisure did not suffice for all the schemes she had 
 in view, but one day in every week must be set apart, 
 so that the prisoners might not be forgotten. " I 
 thought it only right," she says, "to give up a day in 
 the week from dressmaking, to serve the prisoners. 
 This regularly given, with many an additional one, 
 was not felt as a pecuniary loss, but was ever followed
 
 358 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 with abundant satisfaction, for the blessing of God was 
 upon me." 
 
 As is ever the case, the promise was realized to 
 godliness concerning " the life which now is," and a 
 trifling increase of income now enabled Sarah to take 
 up her residence in Yarmouth, nearer the scene of her 
 labours. She engaged two rooms, and began to make 
 a little repository of Bibles and religious books, which, 
 by the liberality of a few Christians, soon assumed an 
 important appearance. She gave every spare moment 
 to the work she had so earnestly engaged in ; yet 
 endeavoured to fulfil her engagements with the ladies 
 for whom she worked. Decreasing custom caused her 
 some anxiety, but her faith in the providence of God 
 was never shaken, and even when her customers failed 
 altogether, and nothing remained to her but the slender 
 pittance she had received from her grandmother, we 
 find this true believer thus beautifully expressing her- 
 self : " In the full exercise of my calling, I had care 
 with it, and anxiety for the future ; but as work dis- 
 appeared, care fled also. God, who had called me 
 into the vineyard, had said, ' Whatsoever is right, I 
 will give you.' I had learned from the Scriptures of 
 truth that I should be supported ; God was my 
 master, and would not forsake His servant ; He was 
 my father, and could not forget His child. I knew, 
 also, that it sometimes seemed good in His sight to try 
 the faith and patience of His servants, by bestowing
 
 SARAH MARTIN. 359 
 
 upon them very limited means of support ; as in the 
 case of Naomi and Ruth ; of the widow of Zarephath 
 and Elijah ; aud my mind, in the contemplation of 
 such trials, seemed exalted by more than human 
 energy ; for I had counted the cost, and my mind was 
 made up. If, whilst imparting truth to others, I had 
 become exposed to temporal want, the privation so 
 momentary to an individual would not admit of com- 
 parison with following the Lord, in thus administering 
 to others." 
 
 Nothing, perhaps, can more forcibly portray the 
 apathy of Government towards the religious educa- 
 tion of the people, at this period, than the fact, almost 
 incredible in these days of Christian privilege, that 
 Yarmouth gaol, as late as the year 1826, possessed no 
 facility for Sunday worship ! The only mode of sup- 
 plying this sinful negligence of rulers, was by per- 
 suading the prisoners to form a system among them- 
 selves. This was a difficult undertaking, but Sarah 
 Martin succeeded at last, and herself attended regu- 
 larly as a hearer, believing her presence might exer- 
 cise a salutary influence upon the little congregation. 
 While she was pursuing this unobtrusively effective 
 mode of bringing back the lost sheep to the fold, she 
 was daily gaining grace and intelligence for herself. So 
 true is it that their own exertion brings home a 
 reward, swift and true, to the architects of those 
 "social bridges," called reformatories. How aptly do
 
 3 GO DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the words of Longfellow apply, wherein he invokes a 
 benison on such work and workers : 
 
 " Hod's blessing on the architects who build 
 The bridges o'er swift rivers and abysses, 
 Before impassable to human feet ; 
 No less than on the builders of cathedrals, 
 Whose massive walls are bridges thrown across 
 The dark and terrible abyss of Death ! " 
 
 There are dark and dangerous places in the social 
 world which need "bridging over," to afford a way 
 of escape to the miserable dwellers in degradation. 
 Public reformers are frequently of the lowest and 
 most unobtrusive rank, but are sure to succeed if they 
 follow the martyred king's advice, " first to practise 
 on their own hearts, that which they propose to try 
 on others." Our unpretending little dressmaker had 
 not only the soul to feel for others, but the head to 
 plan improvements for their condition. She borrowed 
 patterns, cut out articles, taught the ignorant to work, 
 and enthusiastically encouraged talent wherever she 
 discovered it. In the course of a short time, a con- 
 siderable sum was raised among the prisoners by the 
 product of hours formerly spent in riotous and wicked 
 conversation. Four hundred pounds' worth of useful 
 and ornamental performances, was sold for charitable 
 purposes, and enlarged the active expansion of intelli- 
 gence and religion. So much for the result of energy 
 in one devoted spirit ! 
 
 Tribute to her worth is to be found in the Prison
 
 SARAH MARTIN. 3d 
 
 Reports of the year 1835, from the pen of one of the 
 inspectors, who seems to have been greatly interested 
 by the novel sight presented to him. 
 
 " Sunday, November 29th. Attended divine ser- 
 vice in the morning at the prison. The male prisoners 
 only were assembled ; a female resident in the town 
 officiated ; her voice was exceedingly melodious, her 
 delivery emphatic, and her enunciation extremely 
 distinct. The service was the Liturgy of the Church 
 of England ; two psalms were sung by the whole of 
 the prisoners, and extremely well, much better than 
 I have frequently heard them in our best-appointed 
 churches. A written discourse, of her own compo- 
 sition was read by her ; it was of a purely moral 
 tendency, involving no doctrinal points, and admirably 
 suited to the hearers. During the performance of 
 the service, the prisoners paid the profoundest atten- 
 tion and the most marked respect, and, as far as it is 
 possible to judge, appeared to take a devout interest. 
 Evening service was read by her afterwards to the 
 female prisoners." 
 
 How greatly must we admire the systematic rules 
 laid down for herself and her proteges, by this self- 
 educated and long-suffering woman ! She kept a 
 register of all new comers ; passed six or seven hours 
 every day among them ; taught, read, prayed, and 
 reasoned with them ! Her success was nearly uni- 
 versal : few could resist her influence, none could feel 
 other than attachment to the patient and affectionate
 
 30-! DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 teacher, whose convincing discourse was her life ! Nor 
 was her prison work her sole philanthropic effort ; a 
 school for the factory girls received a share of her 
 time: here a crowded class listened to her judicious 
 method of imparting instruction, with faces relaxing 
 into pleased surpi'ise and interest, from the stolidity of 
 ignorance, and semi-barbarous apathy. Then, deter- 
 mined to work to her very utmost, " to spend and be 
 spent" for her Saviour, she employed any leisure from 
 other duties, in visiting and reading to the sick and 
 aged throughout the town. What wonder that she 
 grew to be considered its guardian angel, who thus 
 devoted herself to the works of one ? 
 
 Few existences were more characterized by those 
 indications of piety which Dr. Chalmers defines as " a 
 beauty of holiness which effloresces on the counte- 
 nance, the manner, and the outward path." Hers 
 was a spirit which included faith, devotion, resig- 
 nation, and that love and gratitude to God which 
 stimulates us to inquire His will and perform it, 
 and offers the best foundation not only for solid 
 happiness, but for a serenity of temper which is at 
 once the Christian's charm and privilege. It has been 
 well said that 
 
 " True piety is cheerful as the day, 
 Will weep indeed, and heave a pityiug groan 
 
 For others' woes, but smiles upon her own." 
 
 j* 
 
 This was it which at her return from her daily 
 ministrations among the poor and the guilty, lit up
 
 SARAH MARTIN. 303 
 
 an ill-furnished and otherwise desolate apartment 
 with the rays of a Divine presence. The sunbeam of 
 the soul was there, irradiating each phase of the mere 
 bodily existence : self was forgotten ; and, like Arch- 
 bishop Leighton, who so practically exhibited the 
 meaning of his own commentary, her heart, filled 
 with the love of God, and deriving joy from His 
 presence, was as unaffected by the storm of earthly 
 passion, as one " who hears the dripping of the rain 
 upon the house-top, whilst he sits within, at a sump- 
 tuous feast." 
 
 Her poetical temperament developed itself in sacred 
 songs, some of which evince a power of composition of 
 no common order, and are remarkable for vigour of 
 thought, as well as holiness and strength of faith. In 
 one she remarks 
 
 " I seem to He 
 
 So near the heavenly portals bright, 
 I catch the streaming rays that fly 
 From Eternity's own light ! " 
 
 How little do those who look to steep existence in 
 a whirl of pleasure, or labour ceaselessly for wealth, 
 know of the sublimated joy which, ignoring this 
 world's influences, brings down heaven into the 
 heart, brighter than the transitory palaces of kings ! 
 This proceeds from a meek unsophisticated discharge 
 of the great duty, to such a spirit, a true pleasure, 
 of loving man now, as it knows itself to have been 
 loved by God for ever !
 
 3G4 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 To Sarah Martin the passage from earth to immor- 
 tality could not be said to be through " darkness 
 and shadow." She had died daily, and the sun she 
 had so often looked upon beyond the distant hills, 
 gilded the clouds which veil the departure of the soul. 
 She passed away "in the full assurance of faith," 
 and with all the signs of triumph and repose, on the 
 15th of October, 1843, having completed her fifty- 
 second year. 
 
 A review of her character elucidates its .striking 
 features as reflecting the wisdom of the serpent, 
 tempered with the harmlessness of the dove. It can 
 never be too strongly insisted upon, that pure 
 religion is the true atmosphere of the intellect, as 
 well as of the affections ; and that just as 
 physical strength expands itself upon the mountain- 
 top, and is invigorated by healthy air, so the 
 mental no less than the moral growth, develops 
 its full excellence when refreshed by the celestial 
 breath of piety ! Inspired by the purest Christian 
 love, she was remarkable for fortitude and perse- 
 verance, together with that singular prudence and 
 discretion in carrying out her plans, which appertain, 
 we have said, to the region of holy thought. If she 
 was herself not irritated by disappointment, if ingrati- 
 tude could not check her benevolence, nor even guilt 
 and ignorance, detraction or obstinacy, appal her 
 resolution, she was equally careful of giving offence ; 
 and her whole life exhibited the precept of removing
 
 SARAH MARTIN. 305 
 
 stumbling-blocks from their path, lest she should 
 cause others to offend. In short, Sarah Martin, as 
 far as human judgment can decide, was one of those 
 true angels upon earth, who seem, like comets, to 
 appear at intervals in the dark sky ; transitory passen- 
 gers whom we admire and wonder at, seeing the glory 
 they bring from another sphere, as it renders the gloom 
 which surrounds them here, more apparent. They 
 come they go we can scarcely tell whence, or 
 whither ; but when they have departed, we feel that 
 "a mighty light has fallen," which we were happy to 
 rejoice in for a time praise yet ixow seldom strive, 
 to follow 1
 
 race Jtorling. 
 
 " She holds no parley with unmanly fears : 
 Where duty bids, she confidently steers ; 
 Faces a thousand dangers at its call, 
 And, trusting in her God, surmounts them all." 
 
 COWPEB.
 
 1800. 
 
 IT is not often given to human heroism to see 
 the results of its ardour, to taste the fruit of its self- 
 denial. The subject of the present sketch was destined 
 to form an exception to this rule. The report of 
 the noble action that immortalized her, had spread 
 far and wide ; praises and money were lavished upon 
 her, from noble, and even regal, hands : the blessings 
 of those she had rescued from a terrible death, cast a 
 halo around her, as the sweet incense of flowers hangs 
 about the hand that revives, with timely nourishment, 
 their drooping leaves : lastly, she was not perhaps the 
 less blest, that the angel of death wafted away her 
 meek spirit whilst her fame was at its zenith, and 
 time hesitated to wither a leaf of the chaplet gilded, 
 now, by the fadeless tints of Heaven ! 
 
 Grace Darling ! how vivid, how graphic, a picture 
 rises before us at the very sound of that singularly 
 expressive name ! 
 
 2 B
 
 370 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 We can fancy a lone lighthouse, dropped, as it were, 
 into the very midst of the sea. The waves toss and 
 wrangle around it, and at times they even curl up 
 as if to lap the friendly light itself, and, drinking, 
 quench the lustre for ever ! Beyond, among the 
 black waters, moves a speck, heaving and disappear- 
 ing in every fresh struggle with the fearful element. 
 And alone upon, the island of the lighthouse, a 
 young girl of delicate form, and strange intelligent 
 countenance, wanders to and fro, clasping her little 
 hands, and murmuring prayers for the safety of the 
 hapless mariners ; whilst her father hastens to their 
 assistance, and her mother, gazing from the windows 
 above, watches him, through her tears, and the ever- 
 blinding spray, go forth upou the merciful and perilous 
 errand ! 
 
 Later on. The child has grown into a woman. 
 Still goes the father on his work of mercy, to succour 
 the shipwrecked sailor, and rescue the half-drowned 
 passenger from the hungry waves that threaten every 
 moment to engulf himself; but a female form gazes 
 with straining eyes upon those frightful billows, 
 watching the rowers as with marvellous dexterity 
 they surmount each wave, cheering onward with 
 earnest hopeful voice, when strength and courage 
 flag. Whenever danger menaces, whenever others 
 shrink aside, in the tempest, and lighted by the 
 thunder-flash, wave the tresses of the ocean-nurtured 
 maiden, damp with the salt foam. Another Venus,
 
 GRACE DARLING. 371 
 
 she seems ocean-born, yet invested with a beauty 
 more touching than her prototype's ; for it is the 
 beauty of the heart, not of mere physical charms, 
 but that of an angel guardian, sent to pity and to 
 save ! 
 
 Those who have visited the coast of Northumber- 
 land will remember the group of islands, called the 
 Fame or Fern, upon one of which, the lighthouse, 
 called the Longstone, is situated. Nothing more 
 desolate and isolated can well be imagined. Like the 
 Eddystone, it is so placed that an interval of weeks 
 sometimes elapses without an opportunity of reach- 
 ing it from the shore, whilst even those accustomed 
 to the jarring warfare of the elements, around the 
 lone and unprotected spot, tremble, despite all their 
 courage, to realize its perilous position. 
 
 What an abode for the early years of a child, 
 and that child a girl ! Yet here the infancy, nay the 
 greater part of Grace's short life, was passed. Her 
 books were the shifting clouds and the capricious 
 billows ; her pleasures, the search for strange ocean- 
 shells and many-tinted sea-weeds; her companions, 
 the screaming sea-fowl and the melancholy curlew. 
 It would have been wonderful indeed, if extra- 
 ordinary circumstances had not made her a remark- 
 able woman. 
 
 Instead, however, of the moroseness such an educa- 
 tion was likely to engender, the spirit of energetic 
 philanthropy early manifested itself in the senti- 
 2 B 2
 
 372 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 tnents and actions of the little, lonely, island girl. 
 Around the fire at night, while the waves sounded a 
 rough lullaby, and the growling of the distant thunder 
 sent a thrill like the voice of a shackled but giant 
 foe, the father would relate stories of tempests which 
 had driven many a gallant vessel against the trea- 
 cherous rocks j whose precipitous bases appeared 
 beneath the billows to waylay, like serpents, the 
 unwary ; now, diving out of sight, anon reappearing, 
 to work some deadly mischief, when least expected. 
 Grace would listen with wild beating heart, or retire 
 to weep in silent corners, over the fate of gallant 
 crews, battling for life more madly at every struggle, 
 until, one by one, they sunk to rise no more. Some 
 thirty years before her birth, there had been a noble 
 merchantman from America, wrecked near, and the 
 details of the event often sent the poor child away 
 to her sorrowful bed. This recital, and that of other 
 similar disasters, never seemed to lose their interest 
 for her, however often told, and the intensity of her 
 regret and compassion surprised those who knew the 
 ordinarily quiet unobtrusiveness of her demeanour, 
 and the reserve characterizing the usual expression of 
 her thoughts. 
 
 So Grace grew up to woman's estate. 
 
 It was the fall of the year. September had arrived, 
 and the evenings were growing dark and chilly, when 
 the Forfarshire, a steam-vessel of small size, but con- 
 taining a considerable cargo, with passengers and crew
 
 GRACE DARLING. 373 
 
 to the number of between sixty and seventy persons, 
 set sail for Dundee from the port of Hull. 
 
 For a short distance all went well, but it afterwards 
 became apparent to the passengers, that something 
 was wrong, as the vessel neared Flamborough Head. 
 The crew moved uneasily about, the captain's 
 countenance wore a decided shade of anxiety, and 
 those of the travellers soon reflected it in greater or 
 less degree, when it became whispered that a leakage 
 had been discovered in one of the boilers, and that the 
 constant use of the pumps was necessary to prevent 
 the deck from becoming inundated with water. 
 
 So considerably was the progress of the vessel 
 retarded, that it was the evening of the following day 
 before she entered the narrow channel between the 
 shore and the Fame Islands, and passed into the bay 
 of Berwick. It was eight o'clock, the wind threatened 
 a tempest, and the waves, already susceptible of the 
 commotion, tossed the hapless bark ruthlessly upon 
 their snowy crests. 
 
 From this period up to ten o'clock, the scene upon 
 the deck of the Forfarshire can hardly be described. 
 Friend gazed upon friend, with pale and quivering 
 features ; half-formed words escaped, as if from the 
 ebbing bosom of hope ; hand sought hand for support, 
 and even rough sailors lifted glances of silent inquiry 
 to each other's faces, as the fog gradually surrounded 
 them, and shut out all but the melancholy scene on 
 board. The leak had now completely set at defiance
 
 374 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the power of the pumps, the engines were useless, 
 and, in a fearfully short period, it became evident that 
 all control over the vessel was gone ! 
 
 All the time the rain beat upon the unhappy beings 
 who crowded the deck, and strained their anxious eyes 
 to discover some object in the dense mist which 
 enveloped them. Too soon it came. A wild cry burst 
 from a dozen whitened lips, as suddenly the lights of the 
 Fame Islands grew perceptible, and the captain called 
 out loudly, for their lives, to avoid the breakers, by 
 running the vessel into the channel between the rocks 
 and the mainland. The sea, however had the mastery 
 wildly its billows surged up the sides of the frail 
 timbers all that intervened between them and 
 destruction. Every lurching swell drove them nearer 
 the milky edge of the line of land ahead, and at 
 length looming horribly above the bows, there 
 appeared a massive rock descending at least a hun- 
 dred fathoms deep, so frightfully rugged in its black 
 detail, that those who knew the spot, closed their 
 eyes with a sinking feeling of despair. 
 
 There was a moment's pause, a dead silence ! the 
 next, the devoted vessel struck heavily, and the shock 
 brought upon deck, those unfortunates who had hitherto 
 remained unconscious of their danger, and who now 
 rushed frantically here and there, some bent on finding 
 a friend or relative, as if to lose in companionship, some 
 of the horrors of the moment ; some in search of means 
 of escape ; all scarcely hoping, but yet anxious, to take
 
 GRACE DARLIXG. 375 
 
 advantage of any mode of preservation, principally, 
 alas ! selfish. 
 
 While the captain, whose wife clung wildly to him, 
 imploring him not to forsake her, gave hurried orders 
 no one cared to obey, the sailors lowered one of the 
 boats, and scarcely had it touched the water, than it 
 was occupied to overflowing. One terror-stricken 
 wretch springing into it without thought for two older 
 relatives, who attempted to follow, beheld them perish 
 before his eyes, the waves curling round their strug- 
 gling forms, and hiding them, in scarcely more than 
 a second, from all earthly ken. The boiling surges 
 now swept over the decks, and a mighty wave with 
 fearful violence completely lifted the vessel, which 
 fell again with a crashing noise, upon the sharp edge, 
 parting the next instant, exactly in the midst. One 
 portion, containing the cabin, with its occupants, 
 those on deck, the captain and his wife, with some of 
 the crew, was carried past by the force of the current, 
 while the fore-part still remained crushed upon the 
 rocks, a sad trophy of the wreck ! 
 
 It was at this awful moment that a few of the 
 passengers crowded around the windlass, and were 
 joined by the remainder of the crew. There were 
 only eight on deck, of all those who had quitted 
 Hull the previous evening five sailors and three 
 others; but from the cabin below, through which 
 the waves held on a broken course, there came the 
 heart-rending wail of childhood, still augmenting the
 
 376 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 horrors of those who heard, powerless to save. A 
 poor woman, folding two infants to her bosom, lay 
 there j but anon the melancholy cries ceased, and 
 silence reigned, broken only by the roar of the 
 triumphant eddy. Darkness came down, and night 
 closed in heavily. 
 
 The morning of the 7th of September broke mistily 
 over the lighthouse of the Longstone. Grace, who 
 had passed a night of no ordinary inquietude, rose 
 early, and with her eyes to the glass, sought anxiously 
 to discover some vestiges of the disaster her heart had 
 predicted during the silent hours. She uttered a cry 
 of horror, which was echoed by her parents, as the 
 remains of the shattered vessel met her sight, lying 
 about a mile off; while, plainly distinguishable between 
 the rapidly-flowing surges, might be observed human 
 forms clinging to the broken timbers, which seemed 
 as if each succeeding wave must sweep them away for 
 ever ! 
 
 Grace, her father, and mother, were the only persons 
 at present in the lighthouse. The hearts of all sank. 
 What could they do alone, those three, while the 
 waves were running mountains ? Even could they 
 reach the wreck, how return without further assist- 
 ance, which would be rendered imperative by the 
 state of the tide ? The poor girl turned for com- 
 fort to her father's countenance. He shook his head 
 sadly, but made no reply. 
 
 Up to this time, Grace had never accompanied her
 
 GRACE DARLING. 377 
 
 father upon any of his humane enterprises. Others 
 had always been at hand, nor had further duty 
 devolved upon her, than that most willingly imposed 
 by herself, of warning them when danger or distress 
 were at hand, and receiving the sufferers who from 
 time to time arrived, to claim the Longstone's friendly 
 shelter. She knew how to handle an oar, and that was 
 all. A more dangerous mission was now before her ; 
 and eloquently she urged her request, for it seemed to 
 her as if the lives of those shipwrecked wretches were 
 in her hand. 
 
 The success of Grace's solicitation, so wildly, so 
 desperately urged, was not long doubtful. The father 
 yielded to entreaties which his own heart seconded ; 
 and by means of Mrs. Darling's aid, the boat was 
 launched. What must have been her emotion as she 
 beheld her husband, and the child so precious to them 
 both, embark upon that raging surf; when she saw- 
 Grace exerting every nerve in her haste to assist the 
 practised hand of her father, and each succeeding 
 wave seem more menacing and potent to keep them 
 from the object of their hopes? 
 
 By means of unrelaxing toil, and blessed by the 
 assistance of that Heaven which looks ever down 
 with approval upon those who peril themselves in the 
 cause of mercy, the father and daughter reached the 
 rock, and could clearly observe the expression of 
 the eager countenances turned towards them, in the 
 newly-formed hope of deliverance. The sight re-
 
 378 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 doubled their efforts, and the difficult task of disem- 
 barking, and drawing the boat up the rock, out of the 
 reach of the waves, was accomplished. 
 
 "We may imagine the surprise of the sufferers, as 
 they watched the boat, now presenting a means of 
 deliverance, when hope had almost deserted them, 
 near the rock, and deposit its occupants, a man only 
 and a young girl, upon that perilous landing-place. 
 When it was secured where the sharp edges of the 
 stone could not inflict damage, the pair approached 
 the half-dead and thoroughly-drenched group. All 
 were safe, with the exception of the two poor chil- 
 dren. Their mother, indeed, was apparently dead also ; 
 but care and unceasing attention revived the almost 
 extinct spark, and blew it into a weak and lambent 
 flame, as she relinquished the two poor little lifeless 
 forms that had breathed their last sigh upon her 
 bosom. The nine persons were placed in the boat, 
 and, with the assistance of the sailors, they reached 
 the Longstone Rock, where the kind hands and 
 cordial welcome of the mother of their preserver soon 
 changed their pitiable condition into one of thankful 
 comfort. 
 
 To appreciate Grace's heroism in its full degree, it 
 must be remembered that if, upon reaching the wreck, 
 the occupants of it had been unable to render assist- 
 ance in rowing back the boat against the tide, herself 
 and her father would have been compelled to remain 
 there, liable to the danger of sharing the fate they
 
 GRACE DARLIXG. 379 
 
 intended to avert. So high, indeed, were the billows 
 running, and even later on in the same terrible day, 
 that the solicitations of some charitable persons, backed 
 by the promise of reward, could scarcely prevail upon 
 the crew of a fishing-boat to attempt the succour of 
 those left upon the wreck, from the shore. Although 
 placed in comparative safety, the violence of the sea 
 forbade all thoughts of attempting to reach England, 
 and the narrow resources afforded by the lighthouse, 
 were put in requisition to the utmost, not only to 
 shelter the sufferers, but to find means of hospitality 
 for the accommodation of a boat's crew from North 
 Sunderland, which, after an interval of some hoxirs, 
 arrived in search of the devoted Forfarshire, Nearly 
 three whole days were spent by the shipwrecked 
 vistors in the lighthouse, and Grace's joy was great 
 when the same information that promised them a 
 transit to England, brought intelligence of the safety 
 of nine more persons, who had been picked up from 
 the boat first launched, and taken to Shields. 
 
 The character of Grace Darling scarcely seems to 
 have been of a nature to appreciate the plaudits which 
 now, through newspaper paragraphs and every other 
 available medium, marked the world's recognition of 
 the noble daring she had so successfully evinced. 
 Public subscriptions, gifts from high and low, re- 
 quests for her portrait, and the personal kindness of 
 the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland, who in- 
 vited her to their castle, and presented her with a
 
 380 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 watch (perhaps the most valued of all the testimonials 
 she received, for she wore it constantly afterwards) ; 
 all these failed to produce other than extremely quiet 
 tokens of pleasure, in the heroic girl's demeanour. 
 Her reward was to be of another description. At this 
 time disease was slowly and tenderly weaning her 
 from the world, and teaching her the hollow transi- 
 toriness of all earthly distinctions. We may fancy the 
 smile with which she rejected an offer made to her 
 by the directors of some London exhibition, to earn a 
 considerable sum of money by sitting to be stared at, 
 in a representation which had her heroism for its sub- 
 ject. Invited upon all sides, flattered and caressed by 
 those of elevated station an attractive snare generally 
 to the lowly Grace preferred to remain a tenant of 
 the island lighthouse, aiding her mother in their 
 simple domestic duties. She still preserved her un- 
 tiring scrutiny over the fortunes of the mai-iners, who 
 grew to regard her name with the same thrill of 
 delight that they would have greeted the friendly 
 warning of the light which shone above her home, a 
 guide to safety, and an assurance of sympathizing 
 care. 
 
 Scarcely three years after the date of the shipwreck, 
 Grace drooped, and evinced symptoms of confirmed 
 decline. It was deemed advisable to remove her from 
 her home, and place her under the constant care of a 
 medical man at Bamborough. No improvement taking
 
 GRACE DARLING. 381 
 
 place, she was induced to try tuore than one different 
 abode ; but all alike proved unavailing, and eventually, 
 after a short sojourn at Alnwick, she acceded to her 
 father's desire, and prepared to return to Bamborough, 
 to her relatives, with the internal conviction that her 
 days were drawing to a close, and would speedily be 
 ended among them. 
 
 Whilst at Alnwick, the Duchess of Northumber- 
 land had endeavoured, with kind and constant atten- 
 tion, to alleviate the weakness of our poor young 
 heroine, and provide her with every comfort, by those 
 sympathizing assiduities which wealth alone cannot be- 
 stow. When the hope her noble friend had cherished, 
 relative to Grace's recovery, was reluctantly abandoned, 
 the duchess visited the humble maiden, and bade her 
 a touching earthly farewell. Many had sought the 
 hand she now clasped for the last time, in marriage, 
 but, acting upon the advice of her friends, as well 
 as the dictates of her own excellent sense, Grace 
 was enabled to refuse every entreaty to bind the 
 spirit which, for some time past, had been struggling 
 to free itself from alloy, to the fetters of earth. It 
 appears she had promised that she would not marry 
 without the duchess's approbation. This may have been 
 rash, but beneficial ; since most of her suitors were 
 doubtless attracted by the possession of the public 
 testimonial she had received, and which amounted to 
 several hundred pounds.
 
 382 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 As it was, no personal attachment disturbed the frame 
 of peace and resignation in which her fate found her ; 
 no sweet earthly dew of tenderness for husband or child 
 left behind, dimmed the pure brilliancy of that hope, 
 that shone like a star through the ruined temple of 
 the soul's frail tenement. So passed she away, calmly 
 and humbly, as she had lived. 
 
 " Oh ! happy to have given 
 
 Th* unbroken heart's first fragrance unto Heaven."
 
 "Live for something. Do good, and leave behind you a 
 monument of virtue that the storm of time can never destroy. 
 Write your name in kindness, love, and mercy, on the hearts of 
 thousands you come in contact with year by year. You will 
 never be forgotten. No. Your name, your deeds, will be as 
 legible on the hearts you leave behind, as the stars on the brow 
 of evening. Good deeds will shine as the stars of heaven." 
 
 CHALMEB3.
 
 jflorme l 
 
 BORN 1820. 
 
 FEW persons have pursued the counsel given by Dr. 
 Chalmers, which we have pre6xed to this notice, 
 with more undeviating practice, than our present 
 heroine. 
 
 Always a difficult task to the biographer to discu.-s 
 a living celebrity, the path is smoothed in the case of 
 Miss Nightingale, by the universal concurrence in one 
 of her characteristics, philanthropy. It is admitted 
 unquestionably, that she fulfilled not only the glorious 
 mission of rescuing suffering valour, from reckle.-- 
 mismanagement and neglect, but that she taught, by 
 heroic self-devotion to the cause of duty, her own sex 
 that there was a nobler object in woman's existence, 
 than to "sit in glory, the elegant deity of a drawing- 
 room." The result still working, proves the ener^v -t 
 the agent, and the imperishable nature of good. 
 2 c
 
 3S6 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 is tlierefore less clanger in Miss Nightingale's instance, 
 than in many others, of praise becoming exaggerated 
 into hyperbole, or criticism degenerating into detrac- 
 tion. 
 
 Born in 1820, at Florence, "Firenze la bella," she 
 not only derived the name, but partook also of the 
 taste, incident to the capital of Tuscany, over which 
 still linger the memories of Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, 
 Galileo, Michael Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Ben 
 venuto Cellini, and Andrea del Sarto ; an illustrious 
 brotherhood, whose genius appears to have found a 
 ready response in one who was the child equally of 
 affluence, as of intellect. Her father, the son of 
 William Shore, of Tapton, assumed the name of 
 Nightingale, after the death of his maternal uncle, 
 under whose will, he inhei-ited large estates at Embley 
 Park, in Hampshire, and Lea Hurst, in Derbyshire. By 
 his marriage in 1818, with Frances, the child of William 
 Smith, Esq., M.P. for Norwich, he had two daughters, 
 of whom Florence was the younger, and as her dispo- 
 sition from the earliest years, manifested an admira- 
 tion of the beautiful and noble, so the scenes of her 
 childhood's education were eminently calculated to 
 foster feminine accomplishment. Her father super- 
 intended her studies in classics and mathematics ; she 
 acquired many modern languages, with ease and 
 fluency ; became proficient in music, and was so 
 desirous of extending her information by travel, as 
 even to visit Egypt, where her attendance on the sick
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 387 
 
 Arabs is reputed to have given the first decided 
 evidence of her philanthropic skill and intelligence. 
 
 At home Lea Hurst appears to have been her 
 favourite resoi't, and as every element which moulds 
 the mind, and develops the disposition, must be inte- 
 resting to the observer of eminent and rare qualities, 
 we subjoin the following description of the hall where 
 her childhood was chiefly passed. " Erected in the 
 Elizabethan style, it is most enchantingly situated on 
 an expansive sloping lawn, on the outer edge of an 
 extensive park, and is surrounded and overhung with 
 luxuriant trees. It is built in the form of a cross, with 
 gables at its extremities and on its sides, surmounted 
 with hip knobs, with ball terminations j the windows, 
 which open beneath the many gables, are square- 
 headed, with dripstone and stone mullions, and the 
 general contour of the building is much heightened 
 by the strongly-built clustered chimney-stacks which 
 rise from the roofs. At the extremities of the building, 
 large bay windows stand out in the grounds, and are 
 terminated with balustrades and battlements. The 
 hall, with its out-offices, gardens, and shrubberies, is 
 enclosed from the general park by a low fence, and is 
 approached by a gateway, whose massive posts are 
 terminated by globes of stone. The whole place,. em- 
 bosomed as it is amid a profusion of beautiful trees, 
 in an extensive park, raised up, on a kind of table land 
 in the midst of one of Nature's choicest valleys, and 
 from which a long series of exquisite views of the 
 2 c 2
 
 388 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 surrounding country are obtained, surrounded by its 
 gardens and shrubberies, and the walls covered with a 
 profusion of ivy and creeping plants, is one of the 
 most charming and poetic spots we have ever visited, 
 and one which seems to be peculiarly well suited to be 
 the home of such a pure and holy character as Miss 
 Nightingale." 
 
 It is not to be denied but that certain duties require 
 constitutional tendencies. It is all very well for per- 
 sons to devote themselves to a school or a hospital ; 
 but they will scarcely be able to tolerate the drudgery 
 of the one, or the disorders of the other, as a mission, 
 except there is a direct element in the physical and 
 mental organization, which enables the individual to 
 ignore such evils. Many excellent men who would 
 spend their fortunes in helping the sick, cannot bear 
 the sight of blood ; to others of highly sensitive and 
 delicate breeding, be they ever so pious, a " rank com- 
 pound of villanous smells," as Falstaif describes it, is 
 positive poison. We do not say this to detract from 
 those who, like Miss Nightingale, have personally 
 braved the battle and the storm, but in justice to 
 others who would have done so if they could. Her 
 claim to heroism is not less clear, for she took up the 
 mantle which her humane predecessors had left, and 
 with the option of refinement and wealth before her, 
 preferred peril and sympathy with suffering, and held 
 the plough of progress for a nation's good, when the 
 very paid workmen of that nation turned away.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 389 
 
 In proof of her constitutional tendency, we find that, 
 in her earliest years, Lea Hurst and Embley experienced 
 in her an instructress unwearied in attention, from 
 whom was derived persevering guidance, and unfailing 
 support. The extreme limits of self-sacrifice appeared 
 to be her delight, and the metropolis surprised, saw in 
 her one of the most studious and diligent visitors of 
 its reformatories, and hospitals. Not that she eschewed 
 her own rank, but the tenor of her mind was to look 
 backward to an apostolic age rather than to the pre- 
 sent one of Mammon, and her whole life has been a 
 practical scorn of the frivolities of fashion, with no 
 compromise between ease and duty. In the North 
 and on the Continent, she moved " among men, but 
 not of them," and it is remarkable that she withdrew 
 herself to the Training Hospital at Kaiserwerth, 
 among the Protestant sisters of mercy, the very year 
 of the first Great Exhibition, when the tide of Europe 
 was at its height towards London. There were no 
 models of sick-rooms among the specimens of scientific 
 invention and national thought, but a far more endur- 
 ing work was in progress elsewhere, and the corrector 
 of abuses to which scores of men's lives fell a sacrifice, the 
 disinterested physician to a Government's pertinacious 
 errors, was even then preparing her weapons for the 
 forthcoming struggle, and acquiring skill. After 
 a short return to her family, and a brief super- 
 intendence, though a most devoted one, of the sick- 
 wards in the Hospital for Governesses in Harley Street.
 
 390 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 the Russian war broke out in 1854, and Florence 
 Nightingale was looked to as the female Hercules to 
 crush the Hydra of mismanagement. 
 
 It is not our intention in this volume to discuss 
 political guilt for what other word is applicable to 
 the selfish ignorance which slew our bravest men 1 
 we leave to fuller histories the record of the sanguinary 
 inauguration of the Crimean war. One thing is indisput- 
 able, that if our country is said invariably to sacrifice, 
 at its first entrance into war, to official imbecility, 
 the spirit of the people speedily coerces and corrects the 
 Government. Like the cry of Egypt on the night of 
 the Destroyer, arose one universal thrill of indignation 
 when the facts transpired, that, notwithstanding the 
 vast outlay made for their support, our armies were 
 withering away, without support or shelter, beneath 
 the wasting effects of famine, disease, and climate. 
 The countiy readily responded to the appeal, but it 
 had been already proved that if cabinet councillors had 
 the management of supplies, individual benevolence 
 would be misapplied, as national had been. In a word, 
 the success of the endeavour depended upon the person 
 who was to direct it, and, as frequently happens, the one 
 who had been passed over in crowds, and little considered 
 in aristocratic assemblies, was chosen for a pioneer in a 
 duty which patronage did not condescend to contest., 
 since there was no pecuniary profit, but only the satis- 
 faction of the conscience to be obtained from it. 
 
 To Lady Maria Forester is attributed the credit of
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 391 
 
 forming a band of nurses, and of proffering to Miss 
 Nightingale the superintendence of the expedition. 
 In the " Pilgrim's Progress " we find that Timorous is 
 one of Christian's early opponents on his way to the 
 Celestial City, and the threshold which Goodness has 
 to pass in its outset, has ever been a sneer. The moment 
 Miss Nightingale's determination was known, the hypo- 
 critical Maw worms affronted her with their pity, and 
 Selfishness and Slander were eager to prove their old 
 hostility to one who went about doing good. They 
 might have spared themselves their opposition, for Miss 
 Nightingale's life had been that of one ever looking 
 beyond the present scene. She therefore persevered, 
 and companions in her holy mission poured forth from 
 among the delicately-trained, who had practised at- 
 tendance on the sick. It is the nature of true 
 charity to assimilate, not to divide ; to unite heresies 
 and schisms, and not to widen them ; and in this 
 spirit, twelve nuns from the convent at Norwood, were 
 accepted as members of that devoted band, who, in 
 October, 1854, quitted England, not in pursuit of 
 that illusion which mingles victor and vanquished 
 in one common death, but of that humanity which 
 plucks the victim of disease from the grasp of the pale 
 monarch, and confronts the pestilence with a heroism 
 uninspired by merely earthly reward. 
 
 A good deed has been compared by Shakspeare to 
 a taper shedding its rays far into a naughty world. 
 Those who did not themselves assume the mission,
 
 302 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 yet honoured it, and the passage of the heroic band 
 through France was one continued triumph. As is 
 usual with our gay neighbours, the Parisians looked 
 as much to the dress of the woman as to her physiog- 
 nomy ; and many an idler on the Boulevarts was 
 astonished that La belle Anglaise should seek so 
 little aid from costume to enhance attractions, whose 
 uiipretentiousness he could hardly comprehend. Miss 
 Nightingale, however, did not come to France to court 
 or to be courted, she therefore discarded the vapid 
 compliments of "sentiment" for a rapid assumption 
 of her self-imposed duties, and the 5th of November 
 saw her safely installed in the Barrack Hospital at 
 Scutari. 
 
 Her fearful task was soon inaugurated by the 
 arrival of the wounded from the battle of Inker- 
 maun. Government arrangements were almost worse 
 than useless, and there is ample proof that, but 
 for the aid of the nurses brought down by Miss 
 Nightingale, and her own quiet determination, which 
 overawed officials, restored intelligence to the be- 
 Avildered and incompetent, and taught the most 
 indifferent to feel, the loss after an engagement 
 would have doubled that which occurred in it. While 
 the necessaries sent from England were " rotting 
 under the snow at Balaklava, or hidden in the mud 
 outside the Custom-house at Constantinople, she has 
 been known frequently to stand twenty hours, on the 
 arrival of fresh detachments of sick, apportioning
 
 Florence Nightingai ! 
 
 P. 392.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 393 
 
 quarters, distributing stores, directing the labours of 
 her corps, assisting at the most painful operations, 
 where her presence might soothe or support, and 
 spending hours over men dying of cholera fever. 
 Indeed, the more awful to every sense, any particular 
 case might be, the more certainly might be seen her 
 slight form bending over the patient, administering 
 to his ease by every means in her power, and seldom 
 quitting his side until death released him." 
 
 Meanwhile, supplies had been brought so near as, 
 by their non-administration, to mock the craving of 
 the sufferers ; but red-tapeism and routine had claimed 
 and exercised arbitrary sway, until Miss Nightingale 
 dethroned them. " The rule of the service could not 
 be transgressed, even to save hundreds of men." Sol- 
 diers were exposed to all the inclemency of the 
 weather, shoeless and in rags, while the new apparel 
 was sent off to perish by the damp and the worm, in 
 an opposite direction to the disappointed seekers. But 
 indolence, self-interest, and incapacity, rode riot, like 
 three demons of mischief, under the patronage of Mis- 
 rule ; so that it is even recorded, on one occasion, that 
 Miss Nightingale had a storehouse broken open, and 
 its contents distributed, in violation of a " rule of the 
 service," which had ordained that necessaries, even for 
 present use, should only be procured by the compli- 
 cated wheel-within-wheel machinery of an incompe- 
 tent Board, in collision, not in conjunction, with a mis- 
 managed commissariat !
 
 394 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 Through evil and through good report, this good 
 Samaritan held on her way, and her example prevailed 
 to swell the number of the missionaries of mercy. 
 Five thousand sick lay in the hospitals on the Darda- 
 nelles and Bosphorus, three thousand in the barrack 
 hospital alone ; a demand so great upon her original 
 little force, as to cause her gladly to hail Miss Stanley's 
 arrival, in January, 1855, with fifty more nurses. As 
 step by step, she advanced, so more determined grew 
 the opposition of official ill-will. True, she was sup- 
 ported by the sympathy of the nation, and this so 
 loudly applauded her efforts as to intimidate her 
 enemies, and force them to relax the silly restric- 
 tions obstructing the exercise of common sense and 
 humanity. But disease increased its ravages : the 
 medical staff suffered so severely that only one atten- 
 dant was well enough to afford scant help to twenty- 
 one wards. Yet fever and death produced no fear 
 in the soldier's true benefactress. "Wherever," ob- 
 serves Mr. Macdonald, "is the hand of the despoiler 
 distressingly nigh, there is that incomparable woman 
 sure to be seen ; her benignant presence is an influ- 
 ence for good comfort, even amid the struggles of 
 expiring nature. When all the medical officers have 
 retired for the night, and silence and darkness have 
 settled down upon those miles of prostrate sick, she 
 may be observed alone, with a little lamp in her hand, 
 making her solitary rounds." 
 
 And it was no common scene of hospital experience
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 395 
 
 which startled the humane spectator at that hour 
 One, mentioning the awful horrors of the wards, ob- 
 sevves, " During the day, little of this is heard, but 
 when all is silent, and sleep has settled down upon 
 the occupants of each ward and corridor, there rise at 
 intervals upon the ear, sounds which go straight to 
 the heart of the listener. Now it is a wasted skeleton 
 of a man, who fancies himself in the trenches, or on 
 the blood-stained ridges of the Inkermann valley, con- 
 tending for life, and the honour of his country. That 
 ceases, and through the stillness comes the heavy moan- 
 ing of another sufferer, at grips with death. By and by, 
 a patient in deep consumption, has a fit of coughing, 
 and so, through the dreary hours, the ear is arrested 
 by expressions of suffering which, heard in these huge 
 establishments, have a terrible significance." 
 
 No wonder that "when the ear heard her, then it 
 blessed her, and when the eye saw her, it gave witness 
 of her." " We lay there by hundreds," writes one 
 soldier, " but we could kiss her shadow as it fell, and 
 lay our heads on the pillow again, content." Let no 
 one, after this expression, doubt that poetry is the 
 lan^ua^e of feeling, and is restricted to no rank in life. 
 
 O O O' 
 
 Her personal appearance, as given by the author ot 
 " Scutari and its Hospitals," is in strict accordance 
 with her tone, and sphere of action. 
 
 "Miss Nightingale is just what you would expect 
 in any well-bred woman, who may have seen, perhaps, 
 rather more than thirty years of life : her manner and
 
 396 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 countenance are prepossessing, and this without the 
 possession of positive beauty. It is a face not easily 
 forgotten, pleasing in its smile, with an eye betoken- 
 ing great self-possession, and giving, when she wishes, 
 a quiet look of firm determination to every feature. 
 Her general demeanour is quiet, and rather reserved ; 
 still, I am much mistaken if she is not gifted with a 
 very lively sense of the ridiculous. In conversation, 
 she speaks on matters of business with a grave 
 earnestness I would not expect from her appearance. 
 She has evidently a mind disciplined to restrain, under 
 the principles of the action of the moment, every feel- 
 ing which would interfere with it. She has trained 
 herself to command, and learned the value of concilia- 
 tion towards others, and constraint over herself. She 
 seems to understand business thoroughly. Her nerve 
 is wonderful : I have been with her at very severe 
 operations ; she was more than equal to the trial." 
 
 The death of a personal friend, Miss Smythe, who 
 had shared in the good work, appears to have shaken 
 a system not originally strong, and debilitated by such 
 continuous and harassing responsibility. It is com- 
 mon, also, to find the body yield, when the soul " sees 
 of its travail, and is satisfied." Grief, no less than 
 accomplished duty, causes the mind to fall back upon 
 itself, and in the leisure which is not repose, the 
 destroyer finds his weapon. Fever attacked her 
 whose calm religious confidence had so long looked 
 on its ravages ; but though it prostrated her strength
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 397 
 
 so far that she had to be carried to the vessel which 
 bore her from Balaklava to Scutari, she refused to 
 return home, and inaugurated her recovery by caus- 
 ing a monument to be erected, with an inscription 
 in four languages, to the memory of those fallen in 
 the war. With her usual self-abnegation, not a word 
 is engraved upon it, relative to the originator of the 
 design, the merit of which is attributed to " Queen 
 Victoria and her people." She accepted, in 1855, a 
 St. George's cross, with the inscription, " Blessed are 
 the merciful," from the hands of the Queen ; a bracelet 
 of brilliants from the Sultan, and a testimonial from 
 the British Public ; but she steadily refused all pecu- 
 niary reward, and her address to the meeting, at 
 Willis's Rooms, in 1856, bears not only proof of a 
 high-minded discretion, but conveys a significant and 
 severe rebuke to the malevolence of her traducers. 
 
 "Exposed as lam," she writes, "to be misinterpreted 
 and misunderstood in a field of action, in which the work 
 is new, complicated, and distant from many who sit in 
 judgment on it, it is, indeed, an abiding support to 
 have such sympathy and such appreciation brought 
 home to me, in the midst of labours and difficulties 
 all but overpowering. I must add, however, that my 
 present work is such as I could never desert for any 
 other, so long as I see room to believe that what I 
 may do here, is unfinished. May I, then, beg you to 
 express to the committee that I accept their proposal, 
 provided I may do so on their understanding of this
 
 398 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 great uncertainty as to when it will be possible for 
 me to carry it out." Well might Mr. Sidney 
 Herbert remark : " Miss Nightingale looks to her 
 reward from this country in having a fresh field for 
 her labours, and means of extending the good that 
 she has already begun. A compliment cannot be 
 paid dearer to her heart than in giving her more 
 work to do." No wonder that Selfishness shrunk 
 abashed from such a contrast to itself, or that Detrac- 
 tion used its utmost to disparage the excellence, which 
 it had not virtue, or energy to imitate. 
 
 Notwithstanding an accident which befel her in 
 1856, one institution after another, organized by her 
 for the intellectual and physical comfort of the troops, 
 attested her indefatigable zeal for them. That her 
 power of applying her strong perception and expe- 
 rience to practice is at once comprehensive and 
 particular ; and that she is no less fearless in de- 
 nouncing an abuse, however prejudice may support 
 it, than she is closely observant of the minutest chords 
 of human feeling, is demonstrated by her recent work on 
 " Nursing." Never was a greater outcry raised against 
 what they were pleased to call an arbitrary invasion 
 of prescriptive science, than by the adherents to 
 theories, many of which had exploded beneath the 
 torch of Truth. It may be that Miss Nightingale's 
 uncompromising plainness of opinion, savours of dic- 
 tation most reformers are compelled to dictate. Ii 
 may be that her system of therapeutics appears
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 399 
 
 extreme ; perhaps so to those who have not witnessed 
 the ravages of fever, and the wholesale devastations of 
 carelessness. Let it be granted that she has shown 
 powerful perception of truth, and an unflinching con- 
 scientiousness in carrying forth its dictates, and she must, 
 at least, be deemed qualified to discuss with authority, 
 what a life's career has enabled her to ascertain. 
 
 An extract or two from her work on " Nursing " 
 will give a short sketch of the author's mind, exhibit- 
 ing her as speaking for herself. Alluding to the 
 necessity of reform in the nursing of hospitals and 
 workhouses, the latter especially, she remarks, " It 
 seems a commonly received idea among men, and even 
 among women themselves, that it requires nothing 
 but a disappointment in love, the want of an object, a 
 general disgust, or incapacity for other things, to turn 
 a woman into a good nurse." 
 
 " This reminds one of the parish, where a stupid old 
 man was set to be schoolmaster, because he was ' past 
 keeping the pigs.' 
 
 " Apply the above receipt for making a good nurse, 
 to making a good servant, and the receipt will be 
 found to fail." 
 
 " What cruel mistakes are sometimes made by bene- 
 volent men and women in matters of business, about 
 which they can know nothing, and think they know a 
 great deal." 
 
 We commend to the reader's attention, the cutting 
 covert satire at one of our most grievous national mis-
 
 400 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 takes, contained in the first part of the quotation, and 
 the feeling and common sense, apparent in the conclud- 
 ing remark. Let us hear her own reply to the attack 
 made upon her career, as being unsuitable for a woman. 
 It meets the whole phalanx of vituperation, with caustic 
 independence ; carries the war into the enemy's country ; 
 and shows the spirit of devotion as well : 
 
 " I would earnestly ask my sisters to keep clear ot 
 both the jargons now current everywhere (for they are 
 equally jargons) ; of the jargon, viz., about the ' rights ' 
 of woman, which urges women to do all that men do, 
 including the medical and other professions, merely 
 because men do it, and without regard to whether this 
 is the best that woman can do ; and of the jargon which 
 urges women to do nothing that men do, merely 
 because they are women, and should be ' recalled to a 
 sense of their duty as women,' and because 'this is 
 women's work,' and ' that is men's,' and ' these are 
 things which women should not do,' which is all asser- 
 tion, and nothing more. Surely woman should bring 
 the best she has, whatever that is, to the work of 
 God's world, without attending to either of these cries. 
 For what are they, both of them, the one just as much 
 as the other, but listening to the ' what people will 
 say,' to opinion, to the ' voices from without ? ' And, 
 as a wise nian has said, no one has ever done any- 
 thing great or useful by listening to the voices from 
 without. 
 
 "You do not want the effect of your good things
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 401 
 
 to be, ' How wonderful for a woman I ' nor would you 
 be deterred from good things by hearing it said, ' Yes, 
 but she ought not to have done this, because it is not 
 suitable for a woman.' But you want to do the thing 
 that is good, whether it is 'suitable for a woman, 
 or not.' 
 
 " It does not make a thing good that it is remark- 
 able that a woman should have been able to do it. 
 Neither does it make a thing bad, which would have 
 been good had a man done it, that it has been done by 
 a woman. 
 
 " Oh, leave these jargons, and go your way straight 
 to God's work, in simplicity and singleness of heart ! " 
 
 Such is her conclusion to " Notes," which for their 
 boldness, no less than for their sagacity, constitute a 
 marked era in sanitary progress. It may offend many, 
 and naturally, to find a woman discussing the minutiae 
 of sick rooms, symptoms, and recipes ; no less than to 
 discover the actual cautery of sarcasm, applied to the 
 favourite nostrums of half-educated doctors, by a 
 female hand. But the book stands upon its own 
 merits ; and if the tendency of her sex towards excess, 
 seems to mark its authoritative style, or its treatment 
 of, what have been erroneously considered, insignificant 
 matters of detail, experience and fact support the 
 one, and a conscientious courage in meeting even re- 
 pellent topics, has enabled the authoress to discuss 
 the other in a spirit of sound piety and sense. 
 
 When, at length, her sphere of usefulness was com 
 2 D
 
 402 DOMESTIC HEROINES. 
 
 pleted abroad, England welcomed once more one who 
 had maintained her country's honour with a lustre 
 never surpassed. Yet she came not amid the din of 
 triumphant applause, nor did the Sister of Mercy, 
 whose sway was on the hearts of the people, seek the 
 transitory plaudits of their tongues. ''If," as La 
 Rochefoucauld observes, " the mark of extraordinary 
 merit is to see those most envious of it, constrained to 
 praise," so it is no less true, that "humility is the 
 low, but broad and deep, foundation of every virtue." 
 In order to avoid public observation, Miss Nightingale 
 passed through France by night, and performed her 
 voyage in a vessel of that country, rather than accept 
 the (to her) painful distinction of a British man-of- 
 war. Indeed, she has expressed it as her opinion, 
 that the greatest impediment in the work she engaged 
 in, for the sake of her countrymen, was publicity, by 
 arousing in some minds a care for worldly distinctions. 
 Since her return, her active philanthropy has been 
 incessantly displayed by a ready response to charitable 
 efforts, in behalf of infirm soldiers, both here and 
 abroad ; and she has received the two greatest testi- 
 monials to real desert, in the appreciation of the 
 virtuous, and the detraction of the selfish ! May she, 
 then, long continue an agent, and exemplar^ of that true 
 Christian benevolence which teaches, 
 
 "From the low prayer of want and plaint of woe, 
 Oh ! never, never, turn away thine ear." 
 
 Experience with misfortune in this bleak wilder-
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 403 
 
 ness has, even whilst it may have indurated her mental 
 tone, and confirmed her independence, led her to make 
 "all human weal and grief her own ;" and though suffer- 
 ing may dim the buoyancy of youth, yet the spirit of 
 devoted piety invests her with a nobler ray. Few 
 may fathom that spirit's mystery of enduring hope 
 and steady resolve, but the countenance reveals the 
 
 graces of the heart, and 
 
 " The whole 
 
 Quiet cheek, youth's lost bloom left transparent, the soul 
 Seem'd to. fill with its own light, like some sunny fountain 
 Everlastingly fed from far off in the mountain, 
 That pours in a garden deserted, its streams, 
 And all the more lovely for loneliness seems. 
 So that watching that face you would scarce pause to guess 
 The years which its calm, care-worn lines might express, 
 Feeling only what suffering with these must have pass'd, 
 To have perfected there so much sweetness at last." 
 
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