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diff --git a/43538-8.txt b/43538-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e5f29da..0000000 --- a/43538-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4300 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Historic Girlhoods, by Rupert S. Holland - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Historic Girlhoods - Part One - -Author: Rupert S. Holland - -Release Date: August 22, 2013 [EBook #43538] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HISTORIC GIRLHOODS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected -without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have -been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with -underscores: _italics_. - - -[Illustration: JOAN OF ARC] - - - - -Historic Girlhoods - -(Part One) - - -By -RUPERT S. HOLLAND -_Author of "Historic Boyhoods," "Historic Events of Colonial Days," -etc., etc._ - - -PHILADELPHIA -GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY -PUBLISHERS - -COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY -GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY - -_All rights reserved_ -Printed in U.S.A. - - - - -CONTENTS - -(_PART ONE_) - - - I. SAINT CATHERINE 9 - The Girl of Siena - - II. JOAN OF ARC 26 - The Girl of Domremy - - III. VITTORIA COLONNA 41 - The Girl of Ischia - - IV. CATHERINE DE' MEDICI 50 - The Girl of Mediæval Italy - - V. LADY JANE GREY 63 - The Girl of Tudor England - - VI. MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS 78 - The Girl of the French Court - - VII. POCAHONTAS 93 - The Girl of the Virginia Woods - -VIII. PRISCILLA ALDEN 107 - The Girl of Plymouth - - IX. CATHERINE THE GREAT 124 - The Girl of Stettin - - X. FANNY BURNEY 136 - The Girl of London - - - - -These stories in general follow the actual records of history, but in a -few cases, where little was known of certain girls, the author has felt -at liberty to add incidents illustrating the characters and the times. - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - -(_PART ONE_) - - -Joan of Arc _Frontispiece_ - -Catherine de' Medici _Facing page_ 56 - -Lady Jane Grey and Roger Ascham " " 64 - -Mary Stuart at the Age of Nine " " 80 - -Pocahontas " " 104 - -John Alden and Priscilla " " 120 - -Catherine the Great " " 134 - -Fanny Burney " " 148 - - - - - _To - my sister - LUCY_ - - - - -I - -St. Catherine - -The Girl of Siena: 1347-1380 - - -The old Italian city of Siena lies upon three hills, on one of which -gleams the great white Cathedral, and on another perches the scarcely -less commanding Church of San Domenico. In the fourteenth century -underwood and hanging gardens crept up the sides of these hills, with -only a narrow winding road to lead from one part of the city to -another. The valley lying between the two hills that were crowned with -churches was known as the Valle Piatta, and a little way up one slope -stood the small stone-built house of a dyer named Giacomo Benincasa. On -the opposite hillside lived his married daughter Bonaventura, and -Giacomo's wife often sent her two youngest children, Stephen and -Catherine, through the valley on errands to their sister's house. Their -message to Bonaventura safely delivered the children were free to play -in the valley or pick flowers or rest by the roadside as long as they -chose. - -One summer afternoon Catherine, who was a small girl with dark hair and -eyes, felt drowsy with the warm airs of the lowlands and loitered -behind her brother as they were returning from Bonaventura's. He went -on, humming a tune of the goatherds. She, stopping under a tree for -shade, looked down a little path that led to a fountain called the -Fontebranda, where most of the people of Siena got their water. Then -she looked up across the hillsides of vineyards and hanging gardens to -the cliff where the Church of San Domenico shone very white in the -brilliant sunlight. She looked, and rubbed her eyes, and looked again. -Then her amazement vanished and she simply stood still, rapt in a kind -of ecstasy, which would not permit her to doubt what she saw nor turn -her eyes away. - -As she stood there entranced, she saw a great throne set upon the very -roof of the Church of San Domenico, and on that throne sat the Christ -and about Him were grouped the figures of many saints. As she looked -the figure on the throne stretched out His right hand and made the sign -of the cross over her, as she had seen the Bishop do when he gave his -people his blessing. The eyes of the other saints were fixed upon her -as though they had a special interest in her, and in turn each of them -made her the sign of blessing. The vision held her spellbound, and -although people on foot and in wagons passed along the road near where -she stood, she did not turn nor pay any attention to them. She seemed -to have forgotten everything except the vision high up on the hill. - -Stephen had gone on along the road, thinking that his sister was -following. After a time he spoke to her, but received no answer. Then -he turned around and to his surprise found she was not in sight. He -walked back until he caught sight of her standing beneath the tree. -"Catherine!" he called. She made no reply. He could not understand why -she stood so still, gazing steadily up into the sky. He went nearer, -and spoke again. She did not answer, so he took her hand and said, -"Tell me, Catherine, what are you doing? Why do you stop here?" - -The girl moved, and slowly turned her head, as though she had just been -waked from a sound sleep. "Oh, Stephen, if you had but seen what I saw, -you wouldn't have disturbed me so," she said slowly. Again she looked -up to the Church of San Domenico, but now the vision was gone, and -there were only the white walls gleaming in the sunshine. - -"What was it, Catherine? Please tell me," begged Stephen. - -"Nay, I cannot. 'Tis a secret," she answered. In spite of his pleading -and his curiosity she would not tell him. Shaking her head at all his -questions she went up the road with him to their father's house. - -Supper caused Stephen to forget his sister's strange actions, but it -had no such effect on the little girl herself. She felt that she would -never forget the miracle, and as soon as she was alone she tried to -remember exactly how the vision had looked to her. She found that she -could recall it, and she loved to do so, and to wonder what was its -message. - -In that age the Church and wars occupied much of the people's minds, -and little Catherine was already familiar with the stories of many of -the saints and of the customs and manners of the Church. Her father was -a well-known and respected citizen of Siena, a prosperous man, but in -no way especially religious. Her mother had been too much occupied with -caring for her large family to give much thought to the Church. So -Catherine decided that neither of them would understand her vision, and -determined to keep it a secret. But she thought over it much of the -time until she finally decided that it meant she was to lead a -different sort of life from that of her brothers and sisters and -playmates. Thereupon she began to wonder what it was best for her to -do. - -Her first desire was to leave the bustling turbulent city of Siena and -seek out some place in the wilderness where she might be alone and live -like the ancient hermits. She planned how she would go, and early one -morning set out, prudently carrying a loaf of bread in a bag under her -arm. She went down through the Valle Piatta and past her sister's house -until she came to one of the city gates. She had never been outside the -walls of Siena before, and she hesitated as she stood there, thinking -of the wild and unprotected country that lay beyond. But Catherine was -brave, and she hesitated only a moment, and then went through the gate -and out into the country. - -At that time there were bandits and robbers and troops of marauding -soldiers all through the hills and valleys of Italy, and people rarely -ventured beyond the city walls. Catherine, however, held to the road, -passing an occasional solitary house where some goat-herd or farmer -lived. At last a brook tempted her to leave the highway and follow -along its course, and in time it brought her to a cave made by a -shelving rock that came close down to the bank of the stream. This -seemed just the place for a hermit's home, and she went into the cave -and fell upon her knees to give thanks that she had been brought safely -to this refuge. Again she fell into a trance, as she had done on the -day when she saw the vision. She thought she heard voices which told -her that though she was to lead a different life from her friends she -must do her work among people and not alone in the wilderness, and bade -her go home before her father and mother should think she was lost. - -When she had heard this counsel Catherine rose and went out of the -cave. She looked back along the path by which she had come; it seemed a -long way home to Siena and she felt tired and warm. She sat down on the -bank of the brook and ate some of the bread she had brought with her -and then fell asleep. When she woke she was rested, and jumping up -hurried back to the road so that she might reach the gate by sunset. -She came to the city walls in time to pass through the gate just before -the guard closed it for the night, and went straight on to her father's -house. Fortunately her parents had not been worried by her absence, -supposing she had been spending the day at her sister's. - -Giacomo Benincasa and his wife Lapa had had thirteen children, and they -did not suspect that their youngest daughter Catherine was in any way -different from her sisters. They knew she was a very quiet girl, rather -shy, fond of going to the great Cathedral on top of the hill and of -talking with any nuns or friars whom she met. She was pretty, with long -brown hair that many people admired, and they expected to marry her to -the son of some one of their well-to-do friends. The other girls had -all been married early, according to the Italian custom of those times, -and Catherine was barely twelve years old when her father and mother -began to consider what favorable marriage they might make for her. Her -mother urged her to give more attention to her dress, to take more care -in arranging her hair, to wear some jewelry she had bought for her, and -to go about more with boys and girls of her own age. But Catherine did -not want to do any of these things. She became more shy than ever, and -when she met any of her father's young apprentices she turned and ran -away as fast as she could. The mother knew that Catherine was devoted -to her older sister Bonaventura, and begged her to try to persuade -Catherine to do as other girls did. Bonaventura talked to her little -sister, and finally Catherine agreed to wear brighter and more becoming -dresses and to rub certain oils into her hair to give it a peculiar -light golden color which was then considered more beautiful than the -natural dark shade. But it was only a few weeks before Catherine -decided that these changes were all vanity, and went back to her old -quiet dresses and simple way of wearing her long hair. - -Now the good dyer and his wife realized that their little daughter was -peculiar, and they went to Father Thomas della Fonte, a friar preacher -who knew Catherine well, and begged him to talk to her. Father Thomas -spent an afternoon with her, and to him the girl opened her heart and -told of the vision she had seen and of her wish to become a sister of -one of the religious orders of the church. He saw that her mind was set -upon this wish, and did not try to dissuade her from it. "My dear -daughter," he said, "I believe you have chosen the better part, and may -our Lord give you grace to follow it. And now if you think well to -follow my counsel, I would advise you to cut off your hair, which will -prove to your parents that they must give up all hopes of your -marriage, and will also save you the time that must needs be spent upon -its care and adornment." - -Catherine decided to take his advice at once, and so that same evening -she locked herself in her room and cut off all her hair. In order to -hide what she had done she covered her head with a coif, which was -sometimes worn by grown women but never by girls as young as she. Next -morning at breakfast her mother saw the coif and stared at her. "Why -have you that on your head?" she asked in surprise. Catherine murmured -some answer which her mother could not understand. Madame Lapa stepped -forward and seizing the white headdress pulled it off. She saw that -Catherine's beautiful hair was gone, and she gave a cry of anger which -brought the rest of the family into the room. They were all indignant, -and her father and brothers spoke harshly to her. "Your will must be -curbed," said Giacomo. "You shall not do whatever you wish, no matter -how absurd it may be, and so bring scorn upon all of us. You must do as -your sisters have done." - -Catherine appealed to her brothers. "I have no wish to anger any of -you," she said. "I care nothing what you do with me, nor would I be a -charge to any of you. I will live on bread and water and never ask -anything better if only I may be let to live in peace without thought -of other people." - -Giacomo, however, would not yield to what he considered her caprices. -His wife and sons agreed that Catherine was both obstinate and foolish -and must be taught to do as she was told. Giacomo said, "I know what's -the cause of this trouble. You have too much time to spend on your -knees in prayer and you go to your room and think of strange things -when you should be with the others. Hereafter you shan't have any room -of your own, and you shall do the housework to keep from dreaming all -day long." - -His order was carried out. To show Catherine how little they thought of -her fancies Madame Lapa dismissed the kitchen-maid, and Catherine was -made to take her place and do all the household drudgery. Each of the -family took every possible opportunity to reproach her for her -obstinacy, and her father and mother talked to her by the hour at a -time, seeking to bring her to what they considered a more sensible -state of mind. - -Catherine went about the housework faithfully. During the day she would -occasionally find a chance to rest for a time in her brother Stephen's -room while he was away, and at night she would sleep wherever she could -find a bed. Often she simply curled up in a chair in the living-room. -Through all this hard treatment she was patient and uncomplaining, -until finally her sweetness and constancy began to amaze her parents -and lead them to believe that perhaps she was different from other -girls and must be allowed to follow her own path. Once they had reached -this conclusion Giacomo called the family together and told them that -although he and his wife had hoped that Catherine would marry as her -sisters had, they saw that she had set her heart on the life of a nun, -and that henceforth she was to do as she wished. - -In that age hardship and privation were usually considered necessary to -goodness. Catherine was so intent on meriting the virtue which her -visions had seemed to predict for her that she allowed herself no -comforts. More than that she made herself endure many hardships. She -took for her room a small cell under her father's house, lighted by -only one window. Her bed was made of a few planks with a log of wood -for a pillow. Here she felt herself to be as much alone as though she -were a hermit in the woods, and here she spent hours in meditation and -in reciting long prayers. She wore rough clothes and she gradually -trained herself to do with very little sleep and almost no food. She -got to the point where she allowed herself only a half hour's sleep at -a time and could live on a little bread, some raw herbs, and a cup of -water. She had been very strong, but this severe way of living told -greatly on her health. - -Her mother, however, was much disturbed at these hardships which -Catherine insisted on imposing upon herself, and tried to win her to a -more healthful life. She begged her to give up her hard wood bed and -sleep with her. Catherine did not want to vex her by refusing, and -agreed to this, but as soon as her mother was asleep she slipped out of -bed and stole down-stairs to her own chamber. She was back again before -her mother woke. After a night or two of this Madame Lapa discovered -the ruse, and begged Catherine to stay in bed with her. Thereupon the -girl arranged two pieces of wood under the sheet so that she would have -to lie on them, thinking she would discipline herself in this way. It -was evident that she would have her own will, and so at last her mother -gave in. "Daughter," she said, "I see well it boots not for me to -strive with you any longer. It is but time wasted. Go your way and rest -at whatever times and in what manner you will." - -Catherine was so determined to imitate the early saints of the Church, -who had in many cases seemed to win virtue by the pains they endured, -that she now took to beating herself with rods and wearing a -sharp-pointed chain underneath her dress. She did all these things in -the hope that she might one day be considered worthy to join the order -of Sisters of the Blessed Dominic. - -These new hardships were too much for her strength and she became ill. -Her good mother, more disturbed than ever, insisted on taking her -daughter to the baths of Vignone, which were famous for the healing -effect of the sulphur in the water. On the very first day Catherine -placed herself under the spout where the sulphurous water came scalding -hot into the bath, and standing there suffered silently greater pains -from the hot water than she had been able to inflict upon herself at -home. Madame Benincasa, upbraiding her daughter for what seemed to her -the sheerest madness, brought her back to Siena, and there Catherine, -worn out and only a shadow of her former strong self, took to her bed -for a time. - -While she was still sick she begged her parents to intercede with the -Sisters of Penance and learn if they would not admit her to their order -as a novice. Giacomo and Lapa, now realizing that their extraordinary -daughter would be happy in no other kind of life, went to the Sisters -with this request. They were told that it was contrary to all the -customs of the Sisters to admit young girls. The parents pleaded, and -finally some of the Sisters agreed to go to Benincasa's house to see -his daughter. They found Catherine very thin and pale, and listened to -her story of how she had long before renounced all the pleasures and -vanities of this world. She talked so earnestly that the Sisters were -convinced, and as a result agreed a little later that she should be -admitted to their number. At this news Catherine wept for joy, and gave -fervent thanks to St. Dominic, praying that she might soon be well -enough to receive the holy mantle of the Sisterhood. Her joy soon -brought back her health, and shortly she was able to be out again, and -to take the vows required of one who entered the Order, or the -Mantellate, as the Sisters were called from the black mantle which they -habitually wore. This was in 1364, when she was about seventeen years -old. - -After that Catherine spent several years largely in solitude, although -her passion for flowers led her to cultivate a little garden, and her -desire to read the writings of the Church caused her to study reading. -She had never learned this at home, but now she asked one of the -Sisters to teach her the alphabet, and when she had learned that, she -set to work to learn to read. After many weeks of hard study she was -finally able to say that she could read the various Offices of the -Church. - -If Catherine Benincasa had continued her life as a Sister of Penance -she would have been simply one of many women who have dedicated their -lives to withdrawing from the world and following the course of their -own thoughts. She would have left no record of her works behind her nor -would she have had much influence on her time. But as it happened she -became a great influence, one of the most remarkable women of her -century in Europe, and the person of whom the old city of Siena was -most proud. She was continually seeing visions of what she was to do, -and she followed their commands without hesitation. As a result she -accomplished many remarkable things, most of which would have seemed -impossible to even the strongest woman. - -After a year or two in the convent she was bidden to go back to her -father's house and serve there. One of her brothers had given up the -dyer's trade and gone to the wars. He had led a wild life and finally -been severely wounded and left for dead on the field of battle. In some -manner he reached home. Catherine took care of him, and by her skilful -nursing and her hopefulness brought him back to health. Her married -sisters now had large families of their own, and Catherine delighted to -care for the little children. At the same time she went out continually -to nurse any of the neighbors who were ill or console them if they were -in trouble, and so her reputation for self-sacrifice and charity spread -through Siena, and people sent to her father's house begging that -Catherine pray for them. Word of her visions and of messages given her -directly by the saints was at the same time passed from mouth to mouth, -and the devout of the city came to stand outside the house in the hope -of seeing something of these miracles themselves. - -In that superstitious age the stories of cures Catherine had effected -by her skill at nursing were readily magnified into miracles, and -although she was very young she was treated by all Siena with the -greatest veneration. This was particularly fortunate for her family, -for shortly after she had come home a new civil war broke out, and two -factions of the citizens waged relentless war upon each other. -Catherine's brothers were all on the side of the Twelve, as the leaders -of one party were called, and the fortunes of the strife went against -them. Their enemies determined to rid the city of all the defeated -families, and many were killed or wounded. A friend of the Benincasa -family came in haste to their house. "The whole band of your enemies is -coming here to seize you!" he cried. "Come with me at once, and I will -take you to the Church of St. Anthony by a secret way, where some of -our friends have already taken refuge." Catherine rose from her seat, -and said, "There is no need of that." She flung on her mantle and -turned to her brothers. "Now, come with me, and fear nothing," said -she. They followed, and she led them straight through the main square -of the city, which was held by their enemies. When these angry and -excited men saw Catherine they bowed to her reverently and moved aside -so that she and her brothers might pass. She led them to the Hospital -of Saint Mary, and recommended them to the care of the Master of the -hospital, and said to them, "Stay concealed here for three days, and -then you can come home in safety." They did as she told them, and when -the three days had passed the city was quiet again, but all those of -their party who had taken refuge at St. Anthony's had either been -killed or thrown into prison, and Catherine's brothers were almost the -only men of the party of the Twelve in Siena who came safely through -the civil strife. - -In May, 1374, Catherine went to the city of Florence in company with -some other Sisters of Penance, and when she returned to Siena it was to -find her home town suffering from the double calamity of famine and -pestilence, evils which were only too common in those days. Never -before had the plague raged so violently there. Panic seized the -people, and all the wealthy sought safety in flight, leaving the poor -in their distress with no one to help them. Family after family fell -ill, until it seemed as though the whole city were in the hospitals. -Catherine worked day and night, encouraging the other Sisters to do -likewise, going into the most infected parts of the city, and with -never a thought for her own safety. Many of those who were saved owed -their lives directly to Catherine's ceaseless care, and as soon as they -were well they told how she had nursed them; so the word spread that -she had again performed miracles and that her touch was curing in -itself. At the same time she saw that the scanty store of provisions in -Siena was carefully used, instead of squandered as was the custom, and -so word went far and wide that she had performed other miracles, such -as multiplying loaves of bread and doubling casks of wine. The fame of -this wonderful woman spread to Pisa and Florence, and so through Italy, -and already pilgrims came to see her and sufferers to beg her to lay -her hands on them and cure them. - -Italy was at that time the prey of innumerable warring factions. Each -city had its powerful families who were trying to make themselves lords -and tyrants of their homes. The Catholic Church had been divided by -what was called the Great Schism, and the Pope no longer lived at Rome, -but had established his residence at the city of Avignon in Provence. -The Pope and the Emperor were continually fighting for the control of -the different cities of Italy, and the people would side first with one -and then with the other. Catherine's name was now so well known that -she was urged to help hold the cities to the Church, and with that -object she traveled through Tuscany, trying to settle disputes and put -an end to the many civil wars. She also urged men to go upon a great -crusade against the Saracens which was being planned, and she won over -not only Italian soldiers but foreigners as well to this cause. She was -invited to visit Florence again to settle disputes there, and, obedient -as ever to the call of what she considered her duty she rode to that -city, being met at the gates by all the principal men, who showed her -the greatest respect and besought her to make peace among the people. -She spent some time there, visiting the sick, talking with the warlike, -and healing bodies and minds by her sympathy and spirit of -self-sacrifice. - -All Italian patriots wanted the Pope to come back from Avignon to Rome, -and Catherine believed that his return was necessary for the welfare of -Italy. So, when her work at Florence was done, she set out for Avignon, -to see the Pope, Gregory XI. She found Avignon a gay and wealthy city, -and the Pope and cardinals well pleased with the great palace they had -built upon a cliff high above the river Rhone. The city was safe from -the wars which were devastating the rest of Europe and especially -Italy, and none of the papal court were anxious to give up their -luxurious and comfortable life there for the turbulence and trials of -Rome. Among these pleasure-loving people arrived the simple black-clad -Catherine, a somewhat strange figure in a city which boasted of its -extravagance and pride. She was too famous now for the courtiers to -disregard her, but they spoke bitter words of her behind her back and -tried to prevent her accomplishing her purpose. The Pope was anxious to -see her, and she met him, and told him how much he was needed in Italy. -He, much impressed by her words, promised to give the matter due -thought. She did not stay long, but in the short time she was there she -won over many of the vain court and convinced the people that what she -wished was right. Gregory was more moved by her appeal than by any that -had been made to him before, and a little while after she left he took -courage, outfaced the timid and slothful cardinals, and moved his seat -back to the city by the Tiber. - -For the rest of Catherine's life she was practically the patron saint -of Italy. Wherever the plague raged there she went and nursed the sick; -wherever there was strife she appeared to try to calm the waters. She -won her great reputation by the actual good works that she did, but -people were so fond of ascribing miracles to her that she came to seem -really more than human. After her death she was officially proclaimed a -saint by the Catholic Church, but before that Italy had come to believe -her such a being. - -In Siena to-day Catherine's house is regarded as a sacred place, and -all through that quaint medieval city there are relics and reminders of -her. She is the greatest daughter of that city, and one of the greatest -of Italy. We must remember that she lived in a superstitious age, and -that events which we might explain in a natural way the people of that -age preferred to regard as miracles. We cannot understand the feeling -which drove Catherine, even as a girl, to rejoice in sufferings that -she inflicted on herself, but we can appreciate the spirit of devotion -to what she thought her duty which led her into so many strange and -difficult paths. It is a singular story, and one in which it is very -hard to distinguish between what was actually true and what was -legendary, but we do know that this girl whom history has called St. -Catherine of Siena grew to be a heroic woman, an angel of mercy to the -sick and suffering of her day and an inspiration to nobler living in -that bitter and warlike age. - - - - -II - -Joan of Arc - -The Girl of Domremy: 1412-1431 - - -A girl of thirteen, dark-haired, dark-eyed, clad in a simple gown of -white caught at the waist by a yellow girdle, sat listening to a small -boy who, stretched at her feet, was trying to make music on a willow -pipe. A sunny valley lay rolled out before her, and near at hand a -dozen well-fed cows were lazily chewing grass. The girl's seat was a -moss-covered stone, about her were clumps of flaming red poppies and -farther away was a sea of sky-blue corn-flowers. She herself was burned -by the sun until her face and hands were a rich orange brown. - -The boy threw down his pipe of willow. "'Tis broken, Joan, split at the -side. I know a better willow tree by the Meuse. I'll cut some wands -there come Sunday, and make thee a pipe will play a rare farandole like -the minstrels used to play at Domremy Fair." - -"Father says there'll be no more fairs in Domremy, Philippe. He says -we're all like to lose our homes these days. He says the English are -surely coming for us, and we'll be driven out of France into the sea." - -Philippe sat up and crossing his legs rested his elbows on his knees. -His round blue eyes were very serious. "The curé says the English are -devils, Joan. He crosses himself when they are but named to him, and I -heard him tell my mother she should pray to the holy statue of Saint -Margaret in the church and offer her a full quarter of her spinning -that I fall not in their hands." - -"My sister Catherine says they have heads like savage beasts; and she -is twenty and old enough to know," said Joan. - -The boy flipped a bold grasshopper from his knee and leaned closer -towards the girl. - -"'Tis only Saint Michael can defeat them, Joan," he said in a half -whisper. "I saw his picture on a shield the other night, and father -says 'twas he who drove the English from his mount in Normandy, the one -they call the Mount at Peril of the Sea." - -The girl nodded her head. "I dream of Saint Michael, all clad in -shining silver, some fast days, Philippe. He comes and looks at me, and -when I wake up I can still see his eyes." - -Joan had bent forward, and was gazing fixedly at the picture before -her, the valley of rich meadows crossed by the sluggish waters of the -river in a dozen channels, the ridge of forest-crowned hills beyond and -to one side the red-tiled roofs of the little town of Domremy. "When -the soldiers come again, and are like to burn our home I'll pray to -good Saint Michael, Philippe. He may hear me." - -"He might," agreed the boy. Then he lost interest in the saints. "When -it's Jacque's turn to tend the cattle wilt thou go to that tree I know -of and help me cut some pipes? I'll show thee a finch's nest close by -too." - -"Any day. And mayhap we'll find some rushes. Mother says she'll teach -me to weave them in a mat. The floor's so cold come winter." - -From the village church came the notes of the soft-voiced bell -proclaiming noon. Joan rose and smoothed the creases in her simple -homespun dress. "I must be going home now," said she. "I promised -Catherine I'd help her with the baking. Look, the red heifer's -straying. Thou'd best drive her back. Good-morrow, Philippe." - -"Good-bye, Joan." The boy got to his feet and ran after the heifer who -had deserted the rest of the herd. He looked back over his shoulder -once and waved his hand to the girl. - -Joan went slowly across the fields to the village. She was strong for -her age, but a fast day, and this was one, always made her drowsy about -noon. Moreover the sun was very warm and she wore no hat. She passed -the scattered houses that made up the little town and went on by a lane -that skirted the church and led through her father's orchard to his -house. The door of the church was open and she could look in at the dim -aisle and even catch a glimpse of the altar at the end with a lighted -taper before it. She stopped to cross herself, then passing around the -church she entered the orchard. Here the boughs of the apple and peach -trees made a pattern of the sunshine on the grass. The shade was very -welcome. She stopped, and leaning against one of the trees half closed -her eyes. - -Through her drooping lids she suddenly saw a circle of white light, -whiter than sunlight, spread out on the grass between her and the -church. The clear white circle widened. She opened her eyes and saw -that the light was also in the air, that there was a column of it -reaching up to the sky. She rubbed her eyes, thinking she must be -dreaming, but the light stayed. Then slowly came into view a shining -figure, appearing right out of the air but growing more and more plain -until she could see it was an angel with a flaming sword, an angel clad -in silver with a great halo of golden light about his head. She knew it -was Saint Michael. She dropped to her knees and crossed herself many -times. The angel stood silently before her, and now she saw other -angels come slowly into the light and stand about Saint Michael. They -all looked at her, but their lips did not move. The light was so bright -now that she had to cover her eyes with her hands. She fell forward on -her knees, trembling in great fear. When she dared to open her eyes -again the wonderful vision had vanished, and there were only the trees -and the stone wall of the church beyond. - -It was some time later that Joan went into the house and joined her -sister Catherine in the kitchen. She had the feeling of having been -dreaming, but she was quite sure that her eyes had been wide open and -that she had actually seen the miracle in the orchard. The thought of -it kept her silent; she felt that she could not speak of it to other -people; they would not believe her or would call her a witch. So she -went about her work just as if nothing had happened, and she was kept -very busy, because the family were poor peasants, and Joan was a -strong, sturdy, capable girl who could do a score of useful things. -Indoors she helped her mother with the spinning, the sewing, the -cooking, and in keeping the small house clean; out-of-doors she worked -in the fields with her brothers, gathered the harvest with the other -girls of Domremy, and sometimes took her turn in watching the village -cattle in the pasture lands down in the valley of the Meuse. She seemed -to be quite like other girls of her age, very fond of bright dresses, -always ready to dance or play, amused at a joke, but besides stronger -and braver than most of the other girls, and always eager to help any -one in trouble. When a child or an old woman was ill in the town it was -Joan who was most apt to nurse them, to take them flowers or fruit; and -when some poor wanderer begged James of Arc to shelter him over night -it was Joan who would give the stranger her bed and sleep on a pile of -rushes in her sister's room. Every one was fond of her, and though the -other children sometimes teased her for being silent and for liking to -go to church, she paid no heed to them, and was happy in her own way. - -Near Domremy was a fortress called the Castle of the Island where the -noble Lord of Boulemont and his family lived. The men of the village -had to take turns in standing guard at the castle, but in return they -could fly there for refuge in times of danger. A giant beech-tree stood -near the place, and it was said that here one of the ancestors of the -noble lord had met a fairy and often talked with her. On feast days the -lord and his family made merry in the shade of this beech, and the -village children often went there also, hung wreaths of flowers on the -limbs of the fairy tree, danced about it, ate their bread and cheese -and cakes under its shade, and drank the waters of a near-by fountain -which were supposed to heal any one who was sick. Here the children -picnicked one summer day not long after Joan had seen the vision of -Saint Michael, and here Philippe brought Joan a half-dozen willow wands -and cut them into pipes and whistles for her. The boys and girls ran -races against each other, and Joan was so fleet-footed she could beat -many of the boys, and after that they danced and then had supper and -made a visit to the miraculous fountain to taste its water. By sundown -they were tired and ready to go home. They all went together to the -village and then scattered on their several ways. Joan, weary but -happy, entered the little garden back of her father's house and sat -down on a bench built against the wall. She gave a little sigh of -content; the evening was beautiful and a warm wind blew across the -valley from the west. - -As she sat there resting she thought she caught the sound of voices. -They did not come from the house, but seemed to be borne to her on the -soft breeze. Much surprised she sat up straight. Then came into shape -again before her eyes the faint but clear image of Saint Michael, only -a little distance from her in the garden. His eyes seemed to rest -fixedly on hers. He grew so distinct she could see the joints in his -silver armor and that his lips moved. She slid from the bench to her -knees and bent her head. Some power outside herself made her look up. -Two figures stood with Saint Michael now, one on each side, and she -knew they were Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret. - -Again Joan heard the voice, but now she knew it was Saint Michael who -was speaking to her. He told her the kingdom of France lay in his care, -that the king of France and all his people were in danger, and that she -must prepare herself to go to her king's aid, for it was through her -that France was to be delivered. He bade her be not afraid but prepare -herself for the great work she was to do, and told her that the two -saints there with him would be near her always and would direct and -strengthen her. He ceased speaking, and slowly the three figures faded -into air, and she heard only the whisper of the west wind in the trees. - -She rose from the grass and slowly went indoors. All that evening she -moved about her home in a trance, feeling she had a great secret she -could share with no one, yet one which she could never forget. - -A night or two later the village priest came for a chat with James of -Arc. The two men talked of the war, and of the French and English -kings. Joan sat by the window listening. Finally she heard her father -say, "These be bad days; what with a weak king and the greedy English -we French folk are like so many cattle waiting for the slaughter." - -"Jesu have pity on us!" said the priest. "There is a prophecy made long -syne by some holy man that our France shall be ruined by a woman and -then be safe restored by a maid from the borders of Lorraine. We know -the woman, King Charles' mother, Madame Isabeau of Bavaria herself; but -where is the maid? God grant she come soon!" - -There seemed to be silence in the room, but Joan heard a voice speaking -to her. "Thou art the maid," said the voice. "Thou wast born to save -this land of France." - -The summer passed and winter came to Lorraine. Outwardly Joan of Arc -was like the other girls of Domremy. She helped her mother indoors and -her father in the fields, she went to mass and confession and she -learned as much as her friends did of the troubles of her country. But -more and more often the voices spoke to her, when she was watching the -cattle in the pasture, or visiting the little chapel on the hillside, -or sewing in her room at home. They would come to her without warning, -but always when she was alone, and they told her again and again that -she was to save France, but they did not yet tell her how she was to do -it. Sometimes she saw the visions of the saints themselves, but more -often only heard their voices, and in time they grew so familiar to her -that she no longer trembled at the sound. - -In the summer when Joan was sixteen the English and the soldiers of -Burgundy swept down on Lorraine, and the people of Domremy, peasant -folk who were always at the mercy of the troopers, left their homes and -drove their cattle seven miles southward to the walled town of -Neufchâteau. Joan, now a tall strong girl, pretty with her black hair -and eyes and sunburned cheeks, went with her family and found a home in -the walled city with a woman named La Rousse. Here, safe within the -walls, she helped the other girls in tending the animals and caring for -the housework. She heard wild tales of the terrible things the enemy's -soldiers were doing in the country, and she prayed that her family and -friends might not fall into their hands. Again Saint Michael appeared -to her, and now he told her that the time was not far distant when she -must set forth on her sacred mission. - -The enemy's soldiers soon left that part of the country and James of -Arc and his neighbors were able to return to Domremy. They found the -village burned, the church a pile of ruins, only the stone walls of -their houses standing, the crops destroyed, their goods carried away. -They still had their cattle, and they set to work to build new roofs -for their homes and go on with their work. For the first time the -children saw what war meant. Joan found the orchard where she had seen -her first vision laid waste, and beyond it the blackened stones of what -had been the church. She understood that what had happened there was -happening all over France and began to realize that God had called her -to the wonderful work of saving her countrymen. The voices spoke again, -and now they began to tell her exactly what it was that she must do. - -Joan was now nearly seventeen, and Philippe, her old friend, was much -in love with her and asked her to marry him. She was very fond of him, -and liked him much better than she did any of the other youths of -Domremy, but the voices told her that she must not marry, but must give -all her thoughts to the great work which had been set her. Philippe -entreated her to change her mind, but she would not. Little by little -now she spoke to him and to her other friends of the messages Saint -Michael and the other saints had sent her. - -In the autumn of 1428 the fate of France seemed trembling in the -balance, bound up with the fate of the city of Orleans. The English -army had just laid siege to that city, and if Orleans fell France was -lost. The sovereign of France, Charles VII, was a weakling, and in the -eyes of many French people not really their king, but only the heir to -the throne, or Dauphin as he was called, because he had not yet been -crowned and consecrated as king at the old city of Rheims. Rheims was -in the hands of the English, but it must be taken from them, and -Charles the Dauphin must be crowned and anointed there if he was to be -King of France. One autumn day in 1428 the voices spoke again to the -peasant maid of Domremy and gave her two commands; first to save -Orleans from the English, and second to lead the Dauphin to Rheims and -have him crowned king there. - -Naturally the tasks seemed impossible to Joan; she pleaded that she -could not ride, knew nothing of war, and had never been out of the -valley of the Meuse. The voices told her that she would be guided -safely, and that first she must go to the village of Vaucouleurs and -ask the captain, Robert of Baudricourt, for an escort to take her to -the Dauphin. Moreover, she must not delay; she must save the city of -Orleans. - -Her chance to start came almost at once. A cousin of hers who lived -near Vaucouleurs fell sick, and Joan offered to nurse her. At the -cousin's house Joan told the husband that she was commanded to raise -the siege of Orleans and asked him to take her to Robert of -Baudricourt. The simple peasant was amazed and at first would not -believe her, but she was so earnest and spoke so positively of the -commands given her that finally he yielded and agreed to take her to -the captain in Vaucouleurs. - -A little later Joan and the peasant appeared before Robert of -Baudricourt. The captain saw a common farmer and a strong, dark, pretty -girl dressed in coarse red stuff like any ordinary peasant maid. Joan -told him he must send her with an escort to the Dauphin. The captain -laughed loudly and bade her go home and tend the cattle. She protested, -but he only scoffed at her talk of her mission. - -Joan, however, did not go home, but stayed in the town, and told those -she met that she must go to the Dauphin because she was the maid who -was to save France. She seemed an honest, gentle girl, and one by one -people began to take an interest in her story and wonder if it could be -true. One day a roystering soldier named John of Metz stopped at the -house where she lived, and asked for her, thinking to make fun of her. -"What are you doing here?" he demanded when she came to the door. "I -have come," said Joan, "to a royal city to tell Robert of Baudricourt -to send me to the Dauphin, but he cares not for me or for my words. -Nevertheless, before mid-Lent, I must be with the Dauphin, though I -have to wear my legs down to my knees. No one in the world, neither -kings, nor dukes, nor king of Scotland's daughter, nor any one else can -recover the kingdom of France without help from me, though I would -rather spin by my mother's side, since this is not my calling. But I -must go and do this work, for my Lord wishes me to do it." "Who is your -Lord?" asked the soldier in surprise. "God," said Joan. The man was so -much impressed by her words that he said he would take her to the -Dauphin himself. He asked her when she wished to start. "Rather now -than to-morrow, rather to-morrow than afterwards," Joan answered. - -But even with the aid of this soldier and of the friends she had made -who believed in her it was some time before Joan could persuade the -captain to give her an escort. At last she told him of the visions and -the voices and finally he let himself be persuaded. He gave her the men -she wanted and she made ready to start on her journey to the Dauphin. -She decided she had better dress as a young man, and her friends bought -her the clothes she needed and a horse. She rode out of Vaucouleurs -clad in the black vest and hose, and gray cloak of a squire, booted and -spurred, with a sword at her side and her hair cut short and round, -saucer fashion, as was the style. Six armed men went with her. She did -not want to go, she longed to return to her mother and the simple folk -of Domremy, but the voices kept saying over and over, "Go, Child of -God, go forth to save France." - -The Dauphin was at the castle of Chinon in Touraine. There Joan went, -and begged him to listen to her. The news of the peasant girl who -thought she was to rescue the land had already come to him and he was -curious about her. He granted her an interview, but thinking to test -her, hid himself among a group of courtiers. As she entered the room -the voices told her which was Charles and she went straight to him. She -dropped upon her knee before him. "Gentle Dauphin," she said, "I have -come to you on a message from God, to bring help to you and to your -kingdom." Then in answer to his questions, she told him how she had -been directed to lead his army to the aid of Orleans. - -The Dauphin was impressed, and bade her be cared for at the castle. -Again she had to wait, but now the story of her visions and the -prophecy that a peasant maid of Lorraine should save France had spread -abroad and people began to put their faith in her. The common people -were the first to be convinced, because they were by nature -superstitious and found no difficulty in believing the marvelous -stories that now began to be told about Joan; after them the captains -and the soldiers were willing at least to pretend to believe in her -because she would lead them against their enemies; and finally Charles -VII himself, weak and disappointed king as he was, decided that Joan -could at least do his cause no harm, and might do it good, and so gave -his consent to her requests. - -In a very short time then the simple girl of Domremy, only seventeen -years old, was put at the head of the French army and rode north to -raise the siege of Orleans. Clad in full armor, astride a white -charger, sword at her side, she carried a banner which had been -described to her by the mystic voices. The field of the banner was sown -with the lilies of France, in the centre was painted God holding the -world and on each side knelt an angel. The motto was "Jesus Maria." -With this banner floating above her she rode to Orleans, and all the -country people who saw her pass told their neighbors the old prophecy -had come true. - -By great good fortune Joan's army was able to enter the city of -Orleans. There the warrior-maid was received with the utmost reverence, -greeted as a deliverer sent by God, and hope revived in the people's -hearts. She waited a short time, and then taking counsel with her -generals planned an attack on the English outside the walls. Again -fortune stood by her, the French were victorious, and the enemy were -forced to retreat and so raise the siege. - -Joan's first task was done. After an interval she set out upon the -second, to crown the Dauphin in the city of Rheims. This meant a march -through a part of France held by the enemy and the capture of many -cities. Joan and her army accomplished the work, however, and the day -came when Charles the Dauphin and the Maid of Orleans, as she was now -called, entered the great cathedral of Rheims, and Joan heard her -prince consecrated and proclaimed King of France. She had given her -country new hope and strength and a king to look to. - -Joan had now completed the two tasks for which she had left Domremy; -her voices had spoken truly to her and she had done what they had -commanded. She wanted to go home, enter her father's house again, and -remain a peasant girl like her friends and share their simple life. But -she had become too wonderful in the eyes of France for the people to -let her do as she wished. They begged her to do more, and so she was -persuaded to keep with the royal army and wage battle after battle with -the English. For a time victory stayed with her, but finally one day at -Compiègne she was cut off from her men by the enemy, surrounded and -taken prisoner. The rest of her history is briefly told. She was put in -prison at Rouen, tried for witchcraft, condemned and burned at the -stake in 1431, when she was nineteen years old. - -So it was that the peasant girl stirred France to hope by her wonderful -deeds, and gave her life at the end for her country's sake. France made -her a national heroine, the Catholic Church proclaimed her a Saint, and -in all history there is hardly to be found so marvelous a story as that -of the simple girl of Domremy, Joan of Arc, called the Maid of France. - - - - -III - -Vittoria Colonna - -The Girl of Ischia: 1490-1547 - - -Vines had woven the walls of a little natural bower on a high cliff of -the wooded, sea-swept island of Ischia off the coast of Italy. Beyond -lay the bay of Naples, a deep blue glimmering with specks of gold, and -still farther off stretched the white and brown and yellow roofs and -walls of that sun-loved city. It was late afternoon, the hour of all -the four and twenty when the city and the sea were most alluring to the -eye. In the bower sat a woman and a golden-haired girl, and each was -watching the colors shift and deepen in the broad breeze-touched bay. - -"Is there anything else as lovely, Isabella?" asked the girl in time. -"See yon handful of opals just tossed on the waves off Capua. How still -it is! The woods have gone to sleep." - -The woman smiled. "Peace to their slumbers. Yonder poor town of Naples -has little time to rest! What with France and Spain, the Holy Father -and the rest of them, the poor folk of Naples can scarce call their -souls their own." - -"Indeed 'tis like looking down from a nest upon a stormy plain," agreed -the girl. "Here at least are few plottings and struggles." - -She settled more comfortably, her head resting in the palm of her hand. -Then, after a moment, she sat up again and, turning to her companion, -laid a finger to her lips. Close to them, the other side of the network -of wild vines, was the sound of footsteps and presently of voices. - -"To the west, beyond this cliff, lies a beach," she heard a man's voice -say, "where the Marquis Ferdinand and his teacher come to swim each day -at this hour. We can hide in the bushes back of the shore and take them -unarmed. The Orsini have offered an hundred ducats for the boy." - -There followed a chuckle, and then another voice added: "'Tis an easy -way to line my purse again." - -"Softly then, softly," cautioned the first speaker, and crackling twigs -marked their stealthy descent towards the sheltered beach. - -The girl, alarm in her eyes, sat up straight. As soon as the crackling -ceased she bent forward. "Didst hear, Isabella?" she whispered. "Didst -hear yon plot? They wait for Ferdinand and Messer Florio to bathe -beneath the cliff and then set on them. An hundred ducats the Orsini -pay. What can we do to warn them?" - -But Isabella's wits seemed flown away. She sat silent, rocking from -side to side, her face suddenly quite white. - -"Think, Isabella, think; what shall we do? We can't let them have -Ferdinand without a warning. 'Tis almost time that his boat came -alongshore. He bathes at sunset and the sun is nearly gone. Speak, -Isabella, speak." - -The girl put her hand on the woman's arm and shook her. The only reply -was a moan and a whispered, "Oh, Vittoria, what will our dear lady the -Duchess say?" - -"She will say we were cowards for one thing, and she will be right," -said the girl. "Many a time have I heard my father say, 'There's -nothing the Orsini want but the Colonna will snatch away from them.' -They shan't have Ferdinand. Tell your beads here on the cliff an you -will; I'm going down over its edge to the beach." - -She stood up, tall and slender in her white gown, her fair hair falling -to her shoulders, and looked out across the bay. "There, he is coming -now," she exclaimed, pointing eastward to where a white sail was -skimming the sparkling waves. "If they take Ferdinand they take -Vittoria Colonna too." - -"But the Duchess----" began the frightened Isabella. "She bade me never -leave thee. If I go home alone----" - -"Stop!" ordered the girl. "Thou knowest the safety of Ferdinand is of -more value than all the womenfolk in Ischia. The boat is almost here." - -She stepped to the edge of the cliff where the vines were thickest and -tested them with her feet. Then, searching carefully for that ladder of -knotted branches which seemed to promise the securest hold she stepped -over the edge and slid her feet from one rung of the vine-ladder to -another while she clung to the roots with her hands. Far below the -waves murmured against the rocks and lapped at the silver half-moon of -the sandy beach. - -Fortunately the cliff was shelving and in places a path was worn where -boys had hunted for sea-birds' nests. Vittoria was strong and she kept -her hold upon one vine until she had found another quite as safe. -Slowly she crept downward, stopping now and again to look out for the -sailboat which was steadily crossing towards the little beach. She -figured that it would pass beneath her just as she should reach a -certain jutting ledge of rock. The wind was rising and she had to -hasten. She twisted her fingers tightly about a vine and loosed her -footing. So she slipped down and stood, out of breath and with her hair -and dress disheveled, on the ledge. Putting her hands to her mouth she -sent a hailing cry across the water. - -The man and boy on the skiff looked up and saw the white-clad figure of -the girl above them on the ledge. "It's Vittoria!" cried the boy. "She -has some message for us, Florio. Send the boat in beneath the cliff." - -The man nodded and swung the tiller over so that the light cockle-shell -skiff danced over the water to Vittoria's ledge. As they neared it the -boy, a handsome, curly-haired, sunburned lad of fifteen, caught at the -matting of heavy vines which hung almost to the water's edge while the -man dropped the little sail. - -"What is it, Vittoria?" asked the boy. "Messer Florio and I were going -for our swim." - -"Not to-day, Ferdinand," she answered. "I have word for thee. Wilt -catch me if I climb down?" - -"Aye, that I will." - -Holding again by the vines and slipping her feet from rung to rung -Vittoria left her ledge and was soon near enough for Ferdinand to catch -her in his arms. Messer Florio steadied the boat against the rock while -the boy swung Vittoria across the gunwale. - -"Now set your sail back towards home," she commanded. - -"Why, Vittoria?" - -"Isabella and I were on the cliff but now," she exclaimed, her eyes -sparkling, "when we heard two men plan how they should hide behind the -trees of the beach and seize upon you both when you were unarmed. One -said the Orsini would pay an hundred ducats for Ferdinand. They are -down there waiting now." - -Messer Florio's swart face paled and the boy frowned. "So even in -Ischia there is danger from those wolves, is there?" said he. "Oh, wait -until I am a man, and can draw their fangs for them." - -"Aye, wait, Ferdinand. Meantime let us be sailing towards home." - -"Truly, the Lady Vittoria speaks wisely," said Messer Florio, glancing -up at the cliff as though fearful that their enemies might even yet be -in position to harm them from above. "Take my place, Ferdinand, while I -work the bow out to sea again." - -The boy obeyed, and between them they soon had the skiff tacking out -from shore, her nose pointing over towards Capua. - -"Poor Isabella," said Vittoria after a time. "I think she was too -fearful even to speak. We must send a guard to bring her in by dusk." - -"'Tis well one of you had courage to give the warning," said Florio. -"'Twas a climb few girls would care to risk to my thinking." - -"Needs must when the devil drives," answered Vittoria with a laugh. "I -could not see them steal my husband from before my very eyes. Moreover -when have the Orsini ever had the better of a true Colonna?" - -So Ferdinand the boy Marquis of Pescara and Florio his tutor sang the -praises of the little Lady Vittoria Colonna until they had rounded the -rugged cliffs of Ischia and sailed into safe harbor. Above the -landing-place stood the great fortress-castle where lived Costanza d' -Avalos, Duchess of Francavilla, and châtelaine of this island rock of -Ischia. Florio gave a sigh of relief as he saw Ferdinand and Vittoria -step on shore. He knew the robbers would have made short shrift of him -if they could have placed their hands on the young Lord of Pescara. - -In those days the great Roman families of Colonna and Orsini were -always at swords' points. Each had had many cardinals, statesmen, and -warriors, and each strove its hardest to despoil the other. Vittoria, -the youngest daughter of Fabrizio Colonna, had been born in 1490 in the -Castle of Marino, which guarded one of the passes in the Alban hills -near Rome. But such a castle was no place for children, for the lords -of Marino and the other mountain strongholds lived like robber barons, -swooping down on neighboring towns and cities, holding travelers to -ransom, and attacking and destroying one another's homes on any -favoring chance. The Lord Fabrizio Colonna and his wife Agnes were -anxious to place their daughter in safer hands, and at the same time it -happened that Ferdinand II, King of Sicily and Naples, was desirous of -uniting the powerful Colonna family to his cause by marrying a girl of -that house to a boy of his own race. So at five years of age Vittoria -was solemnly betrothed to Ferdinand, Marquis of Pescara, and went to -live in the sheltered island of Ischia in the Bay of Naples, under the -care of the Duchess of Francavilla, the older sister of the young -Marquis Ferdinand. Here the boy and girl were brought up together, -studying under the same teachers, playing the same games, while the -careful Duchess kept vigilant watch and ward over both, for nothing -would have pleased the lords of the house of Orsini better than to -prevent the marriage of a Colonna to a boy of such rank and wealth. -Even in Ischia, protected by nature as it was and guarded by the -Duchess' soldiers, spies sometimes appeared, and neither Vittoria nor -Ferdinand were strangers to perils at the hands of enemies of their -houses. - -For the most part, however, Ischia was quiet and the boy and girl led -happy, peaceful lives. Ferdinand was trained to be a soldier, but also -learned something of letters and art. A taste for poetry was considered -fashionable among young noblemen of that period and he was brought up -in the fashion. Vittoria showed an unusual love of literature, and the -Duchess, finding her young ward eager to learn, trained her in Latin -and Greek and urged her to write verses of her own. - -Ferdinand grew tall and strong, fit for the work of a soldier, gentle -at most times, but fiery when his anger was aroused. He was considered -remarkably handsome, with an auburn beard, an aquiline nose, and eyes -keen and commanding. Vittoria, while she was still a girl, was regarded -as one of the beauties of Italy, her face being of the calm oval Roman -type, with the broad brow, the thoughtful eyes, and the full red lips. -Poets sang the praises of her golden hair and artists loved to paint -it, and the fame of its beauty had spread to Rome and Naples through -the words of wandering troubadours who had been to Ischia. - -When Vittoria Colonna and Ferdinand d'Avalos were nineteen years old -they were married, and it was a true love-match, for they had grown -more and more fond of each other during the years they had spent on the -island. The wedding was almost royal in its magnificence, and then -bride and groom went to Naples, where endless feasts were given in -their honor. They traveled a little and then went back to Ischia, where -for three years Ferdinand and Vittoria were very happy, and where she -began to write some of those sonnets which were to win her fame. - -Then came the call to war, and Ferdinand left Vittoria at Ischia to -hasten to the aid of his king who was warring with Louis XII of France. - -From that time the life of Vittoria's husband was spent in camps and -battles. He was unusually brave, a man beloved by his soldiers, and as -a general there were few men of the age his equal. Now he was winning, -now losing, at one time in prison at Milan writing letters in poetry to -his wife to which she replied with poems of her own. He was wounded at -the great battle of Pavia, and a little later, worn out by his hard -warring life, died in 1525. - -Vittoria stayed at Ischia, and to ease her grief for her loved husband -wrote many sonnets dealing with their life together. Her poems were -considered very beautiful and her fame grew until she was accounted -among the greatest of Italian writers. After a time she traveled and -everywhere she was received with the highest honors as a poetess. At -last she settled in Rome, and there her house was the centre of -learning in the city. All men of talent claimed to be her friends, and -the letters of the day were filled with accounts of her genius, her -holiness, and her beauty. Chief among her friends was the great painter -Michael Angelo, and the friendship of each was a continual inspiration -to the genius of the other. - -So it was that this girl who saved her betrothed husband from his -enemies that day at Ischia became in time one of the noblest figures in -Italian life, one of the finest flowers of what we call the Renaissance -in Europe. - - - - -IV - -Catherine de' Medici - -The Girl of Mediæval Italy: 1519-1589 - - -A stone bench with arms carved to represent crouching lions stood under -an ilex tree in a corner of the Medici gardens in Florence. There, on a -certain autumn afternoon, sat two girls, talking languidly, for the day -was hot. Both were dark, but one looked much like a hundred other girls -to be met in the streets of Florence, the other was striking. Her long, -oval face was very pale, and seemed the more colorless in contrast with -the black hair which she wore low on her forehead and over the tips of -her ears. Her lips were thin and straight, and her eyelids made her -eyes look long and narrow, almost like two slits from which gleamed a -singularly bright or a dull light, depending on whether she were -interested or indifferent. Delicate black brows were penciled above -those eyes. She was handsome, but one might also judge that she was -crafty. - -Just now she was admiring the glitter of a ruby in a ring upon her -hand. "How much it looks like a drop of blood," she was saying. "Hast -thou ever seen one of those rings, Bianca, with a little hidden place -to carry poison? My uncle Filippo has one. The Duke's goldsmith made it -for him." - -"I hate all such things," said Bianca. "If I had such a ring I'd throw -it into the Arno." - -"Nevertheless they are useful sometimes. My uncle and the Duke are -playing at being friends now, but thou knowest that to-morrow they -might well be at each other's throats." She smoothed a fold of the -green gown on her knee. "I like my uncle, but the Duke----" she -shrugged her shoulders. "I trust him no more than I would the rabble of -Florence. He is kind to me now. In good faith I know there is some -reason for it. 'Tis not love of me or because I am a girl of his house -of the Medici." - -"Softly," warned Bianca. "Here is he now coming through the garden." - -There came towards them a singular group. One was a tall man, dressed -in doublet and hose, with a long heavy gold chain hanging almost to his -waist, and a gold girdle in which was stuck a short dagger, the handle -of which glittered with precious stones. A velvet cape hung from his -shoulders, and on his head perched a flat velvet cap, tilted at an -angle. He bore a certain resemblance to the girl in green; he had the -same cream-white skin, lustrous black hair, and narrow, searching eyes. -Beside him came a dwarf, dressed in parti-colored brown and gold. He -had to take two little hopping steps to every long stride of the man -with him. On the other side of the Duke stalked a big greyhound, a -certain stately grace in every movement. He stood so high that the Duke -could pat his head and pull his long ears without stooping. - -The girls rose and courtesied as the others reached them. The Duke, -with a smile in his black eyes, waved his hand for them to be seated. -"'Tis pleasant here in thy little nook, Catherine," said he. "This work -over state affairs in my cabinet makes my head buzz as if 'twere a hive -of angry bees." - -"What honeyed thoughts must be yours, my lord," observed the dwarf. - -"Honeyed indeed, since they were of my fair Catherine," answered his -master. "Lie down in the shade, good lad, and rest thy overworked wits. -I would have a talk with my dear niece if she will give me room upon -her bench." - -Catherine moved, and the Duke sat down. Bianca rose, but the Duke bade -her stay. "I have no secrets from Catherine's friends," said he. - -"Thou knowest well, little lady," he began, "that we of the Medici have -had our ups and downs. Young as thou art thou hast not escaped them. -Recall those days when thou wert at the convent, and we were striving -to retake Florence from the barbarous chiefs of the Republic. Did not -Battista Cei--wretched man! propose that thou shouldst be set out -between two battlements where the artillery fire would sweep across -thee?" - -"I remember well," said Catherine, her eyes gleaming as she spoke. - -"And later, did not Castiglione advise that rather than hand thee over -to the care of our Holy Father the Pope thou shouldst be given to the -soft mercy of the mercenary soldiers?" - -"That I remember also," said Catherine. "Though I was only nine I shall -never forget those days." - -"I only recall them," continued the Duke, "that thou mayst consider how -uncertain is the life of a Medici, and may understand with what care I -have looked to thy welfare. Thou art dear to me as my own daughter, and -as a daughter have I planned for thee. Now for my news. I have arranged -to marry thee to a son of the French King!" - -He looked for some surprise on Catherine's part, but she showed none. -She gazed straight ahead of her, her eyelids drooping a little over her -eyes. - -"The French King has two sons, the Dauphin and Prince Henry. Which am I -to marry?" she asked quietly. - -The Duke crossed one knee upon the other. "I cannot tell thee yet," he -answered. "The Dauphin for preference, but Henry if need be. The King -has raised objections to the first, but a house like ours, which has -given two Popes to Christendom, might well provide a Queen for the -throne of France. One or the other it will be." - -Catherine bent her head. "I trust thou hast always found me dutiful," -said she, "and wilt in this." - -The Duke, his white fingers playing with the chain about his neck, eyed -the girl closely. "Thou art a curious maiden, Catherine," he observed -slowly. "I tell thee that thou art to marry a Valois and go to Paris -and thou showest as much excitement as if I said the wind had veered a -quarter. Is it nothing to thee to marry and leave thy home?" - -Catherine smiled, her eyes bent on the greyhound which lay crouched at -her feet. "Good my lord," she answered, "I have known ever since I was -old enough to think of such things that some day thou or some other of -my kinsmen would come to me and say, 'Catherine, thou art to marry such -and such a prince.' To me they are all alike, dressed of a piece. I -know not even if they be comely or no, but only that such a one is Heir -of France and such is Prince of Savoy. I am ready to live in Paris or -in Milan as it suits my kinsmen. As for leaving home thou hast said -thyself that my days here have been somewhat hazardous. I have no -reason to love these Florentine gentlemen overmuch." - -"True," agreed the Duke. "Thou sayest wisely, surprising wisely for a -maid thy years. If I mistake not thou wilt play this game of statecraft -shrewdly, with an eye ever to the stakes and little concern for the -other players. It is well, the Medici have never played the fool. One -word more. Shortly thou and I and thy good uncle Filippo Strozzi must -leave for Leghorn, there to meet the Pope and the envoys of the King of -France, and sign the marriage papers. I am right glad that Filippo will -go. He will safeguard thee as carefully as I. Now must I take my leave. -May thy dreams be sweet, savored with the thought that some day thou -mayst be Queen in France." He rose and poked the dwarf with his toe. -"Come, good jester, much sleep maketh the wits dull." - -"Then should mine be sharp," answered the dwarf, springing up. "He who -serves the Medici sleeps with one eye open." - -"And so he must," agreed the Duke with a laugh. He called to the dog -and the three went back across the lawn as they had come. - -Only when they were out of sight did Catherine speak. "He is a -smooth-tongued man in very truth, Bianca," said she. "He talks about -the care he takes of me, the thought he spends in planning for my -marriage. He would sell me to-morrow to the highest bidder. If I marry -one of the French princes 'tis so that he may count on France's aid to -help him here in Italy. And he is glad that Uncle Filippo will go to -Leghorn with me. He's glad forsooth because my uncle is the most -popular man in Florence, and could upset the Duke in a twinkling had he -the mind to do so. His head will rest the easier with me in Paris and -the Strozzi out of Florence. Oh, a very gentle kinsman is my lord -Duke." - -"Thou mayst not do him justice, Catherine," urged Bianca. - -"Justice?" Catherine's eyes narrowed and a gleam shot into them. "I may -be young, Bianca, but I am no fool. I cannot speak for other countries, -but here in Italy one should trust no one else. Each has some plan in -mind, and given the chance will stop at nothing to have his way with -things. Hark you now." The girl lowered her voice to a whisper. "Thou -knowest Messer Lorenzino de' Medici, Duke Alessandro's closest friend -and counselor? Were I the Duke, Lorenzino would leave Florence for his -health and never return. Twice have I come upon him when he thought he -was alone and each time there was a dark brooding look upon his face. -He has some purpose in his friendliness. What if some evening when the -Duke walks forth alone, let us say strolls on the other side this ilex -where the poplars are a screen, a man glides from the shadow? A glint -of steel, and Duke Alessandro is no more. The Florentines are glad, and -Lorenzino reaps rewards. He has done a public service. 'Tis so easy, so -very easy." - -"Be still, Catherine. What thoughts thou hast! 'Tis enough to make one -shudder." - -The gleam in Catherine's eyes disappeared, and she was the same quiet -indifferent girl she had been before. "I only said how easy. I only -thought the Duke should be more careful of his friends." - -"But even to think such things is dangerous, Catherine," protested the -nervous Bianca. - -"No, thoughts have killed no one," answered Catherine, with a shrewd -smile. "Else there had been no one left alive by now." - -"I will not talk with thee when thou art so cruel-minded, Catherine," -and Bianca rose from the stone seat. - -"'Tis not I. 'Tis the great world about me, the men and women of all -the Christian courts. Howbeit 'tis time we went indoors. I must plan -preparation for this journey to Leghorn the Duke told me of." - -She rose also, and moved across the lawn by the side of her friend with -a sinuous grace which was remarkable in a girl so young as she. -However, as those in the Medici Palace often observed, the Lady -Catherine, styled the Princess of Florence, was old for her age in more -ways than one. - - [Illustration: CATHERINE DE' MEDICI - _From an old engraving_] - -Probably this was to have been expected. Catherine had lost her father -and mother very shortly after she was born. Her father was Lorenzo de' -Medici, and her mother Madeleine de la Tour d'Auvergne before her -marriage. Her father had been the head of his family in Florence and -the real ruler there, although the Florentines were so jealous of what -they considered their independence that he had never dared proclaim -himself lord of the city and used the title of Duke of Urbino. Even so -after Lorenzo's death the Medici had been driven from Florence and had -had to fight desperately to retake it. At that time the leaders of the -republic in the city had shut Catherine, who was only nine years old, -in a convent, and had discussed the best way in which to be rid of her, -as the Duke had so thoughtfully reminded her. When the Medici finally -took possession of the city again Alessandro was the head of the family -and became Tyrant of Florence, calling himself Duke of the City of -Penna. He released Catherine from the convent and adopted her into his -own family, giving her the title of Princess of Florence. Catherine, -although she was only fourteen, had seen enough of the men of her -family to distrust them almost as much as she did the people of the -city. On all sides she had found treachery and deceit and greed for -power, and if she was overwise for her years in such matters, it was -because she had been brought up to see little else. - -One man alone she trusted, her uncle Filippo Strozzi, who had married -her father's sister, and who was now the most popular man in Florence. -The Duke would have liked to be rid of this man by any means he could, -but he did not dare deal with him in an underhand way, and so decided -to send him to accompany Catherine to Leghorn, hoping that he might be -induced later to go with his niece to France and keep away from -Florence. Catherine had judged rightly when she said the Duke had laid -his plans for her marriage more for his own protection than for her -welfare. - -Early in October, 1533, the Duke Alessandro, Filippo Strozzi, and -Catherine left Florence for Leghorn. In order to dazzle the French -court the Duke had arranged a remarkable suite to accompany the young -Princess. The entire procession consisted of more than a thousand -persons, and when the rear-guard were still leaving the gate of -Florence those in the lead had already passed the first village outside -the city. - -Although Duke Alessandro was head of the house of Medici in Florence -the Pope, Clement VII, was head of that house in Italy, and he had -decided that he also would go to Leghorn and take a hand in the wedding -plans of the Lady Catherine. Like all the powerful princes of that day -both Pope Clement and Duke Alessandro wished to dazzle the rest of the -world with their magnificence, and Catherine must have been surprised -at the sights she saw in Leghorn. The Pope had arrived by sea, and his -private galley was hung with crimson satin trimmed with golden fringe, -and covered with an awning of cloth of gold. This same barge had been -fitted with a suite of rooms for Catherine herself, and here were -gathered priceless works of art and scores of curious treasures which -had been sent to the Pope from distant countries. The oarsmen and the -sailors were all magnificently dressed, and three more barges were -filled with the officers and servants of His Holiness. Near the Papal -galleys were moored the barges of the envoys of the French King, headed -by the Duke of Albany, and so the harbor was filled with splendid -vessels, while on shore Duke Alessandro did his best to amaze the -simple people of Leghorn with the wealth and magnificence of the Lords -of Florence. - -There followed many meetings between the Pope and the Duke and the -French envoys. It was settled that Catherine's marriage dowry should -amount to a hundred thousand ducats, a very large sum of money for even -such a rich house as that of the Medici to pay. Then the question arose -as to which of the French princes she was to marry, whether the Dauphin -or Henry, Duke of Orleans. The Pope and the Duke urged that she be -married to the Dauphin, but the French King would not consent, and -finally the two Medici princes realized that they had better take the -younger son while they could get him, and agreed that Catherine should -marry Henry. But by this time they were so much afraid that the French -King Francis I would try to break his agreement with them that they -insisted on an immediate wedding for Catherine and journeyed on to the -city of Marseilles in order that it might take place at once. - -If the Pope and the Duke were fond of gorgeous display, Francis I was -even more so. Although he had given many splendid entertainments -before, he outdid himself on this occasion. The wedding feasts for -Henry and Catherine lasted thirty-four days, and during all that time -the Pope and the King witnessed tournaments and sham sea-battles, -listened to music and to the poems of the troubadours, and met at the -banquet-table to eat and drink and make merry half the night. So -Catherine, just fifteen years old, was married to Henry, who was three -weeks older. - -Catherine's opinion of the treachery and deceit of the people of her -time was quite correct. She had told Bianca only what was the truth, -for in mediæval Italy every one in high place was a conspirator and the -men of her own family were the worst. The Pope and the Duke had wanted -to marry Catherine to the Dauphin so that she might some day be Queen -of France. They found they could not do this, and must take the second -son. History does not tell what plots were hatched on that golden barge -off Leghorn, but history does state that only a very short time after -the wedding the Dauphin died, and that it was generally believed that -he had been poisoned. He had been taking part in some athletic games at -Tournon on a hot day in August, and when he stopped, being very warm, -he asked for a glass of water. It was given to him iced, and a short -time later he died. The man who gave him the glass had been one of -those who were with Duke Alessandro at Leghorn. Thus, whether by their -own devices or by chance, the heads of the house of Medici saw their -little Lady Catherine the wife of the heir to the French throne. - -Catherine was shrewd, and she studied the people about her in France -with the same skill that she had shown in Florence. She saw that she -must win the affection of the king if she were to escape suspicion of -taking part in the many plots that were made against him. So she stayed -close beside him whenever she could, and was always ready to do -whatever he might suggest, until very shortly Francis found himself -exceedingly fond of this quiet, willing little daughter-in-law who -seemed to admire him so much. She studied Henry and found him vain and -pleasure-loving above everything else, and so she let him go his own -way, interfering with nothing that he wished to do, but waiting until -she might have the chance to win some power over him. And she studied -the courtiers, men and women, so that she might be able to play them -like pawns at chess, one against another, when the day should come on -which she should be Queen of France. - -As she waited she saw cunning and deceit win one victory after another -in Italy and France. She heard how the brooding Lorenzino de' Medici, -even as she had predicted to Bianca, had become Duke Alessandro's -closest friend and greatest flatterer in order to find the chance to -strike and kill him, and she heard how the people of Florence had -proclaimed Lorenzino a patriot for ridding them of the Duke, and how -her uncle Filippo Strozzi, one of the noblest men of the time, had -vowed that he admired the assassin so much that each of his sons should -marry one of Lorenzino's daughters. - -Catherine became a most powerful woman, but powerful through fear. She -had learned the lesson of her childhood well. She was a Medici, and -therefore overweeningly ambitious, and she was as scheming, as clever, -and as cruel as any of her famous family. Her husband, Henry, became -King of France, and was killed in a tournament. Her three sons became -kings of France in turn, and during all their reigns she was the power -behind the throne. During all her life the court of France was a cobweb -of intrigue, in which no one was safe, and a man or woman became -powerful only to be secretly put out of the way lest he or she should -grow too strong. She was beyond doubt one of the ablest women in French -history and she might have done much to make France great and -respected, but instead she almost ruined it by her selfish ambitions. -History lays at Catherine's door the killing of innocent Huguenots in -all parts of France, known as the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew's Eve. -With all her gifts she could not rise above the teachings of her -girlhood in Italy, and so she stands out as a queen of treachery and -bloodshed, thoroughly typical of her age in its darker sides. - - - - -V - -Lady Jane Grey - -The Girl of Tudor England: 1537-1554 - - -A little lady sat reading a small, vellum-bound book in the window-seat -of one of the rooms of his Majesty's palace of Westminster. She was -short and slender, and for a girl of fourteen very graceful. Her face -was fair and now warm-flushed by the sun, her hair was a soft red-brown -and her eyes that light shade of hazel, almost red, which so often goes -with hair of reddish color. Her dress was of green velvet, with great -gold-embroidered sleeves. At her waist was a girdle of gold. Her gown -was cut to a point at the neck and about her throat was a little chain -and a small heart-shaped locket. On her head was a coif of fine white -lace bound with tiny bands of green and gold. The window behind her was -open, and now and then the breeze blew wisps of hair about her forehead -and sometimes threatened to turn the leaves of her book. - -Presently a boy, a few years older than the girl, dressed in dark red -doublet and hose, with a flat cap of the same color on his head, pushed -aside the arras at the door and came into the room. He was very pale, -and his big eyes, under high black arching eyebrows, looked very tired -and moody. He had crossed to the window-seat before the girl knew he -was in the room. - -She rose quickly and made a low courtesy. The boy rested one knee upon -the window-seat. "I'm glad you've come to court, Lady Jane. I wish you -might stay some time." - -"Your Majesty is very good to say so." - -The boy bit his lip. "All day and half the night people are saying to -me, 'Your Majesty is very good' to do this or that, usually something -they've made me do. Can't we forget, cousin, for just a little time, -that I'm Edward the Sixth, King of England and Ireland and so on, and -just pretend I'm simple Edward Tudor and you Jane Grey?" - -"An your Majesty wishes it," she said, smiling at the dark-eyed boy. - -"I do." The boy sat down on the window-seat. "Oh, Jane, it's a stupid -life I lead. Always my masters with lessons, my bearded counselors with -scrolls and ink-horns. When I'm tired one man gives me physic, when I'm -well again another sets me tasks. My head splits with sermons, and acts -of state, and such like matters. I think they grudge me the hours I -have to sleep. And among them all I've only one true friend, Barnaby -Fitzpatrick, and him they let me see but now and then." - -"I know," said the Lady Jane. "It seems there are so many things we -must learn. At home my master, Messer Aylmer, is forever setting me -this or that to study." - - [Illustration: LADY JANE GREY AND ROGER ASCHAM] - -The boy leaned forward and whispered, "I wish I were a boy of the -streets, with a penny in my pocket and naught to do but plan the -spending of it." - -"Oh, my lord--Edward, I mean," said the girl, much amazed. - -The arras was pulled back again, and two youths entered. One was tall -and fair, the other of much shorter stature, with merry black eyes. -Both were dressed in the height of the court fashion, with plumed hats, -short swords, and jeweled collars. - -"Here's Barnaby," said the king, "and Lord Guildford Dudley. Oh, -Barnaby, I'm free for an hour or so. What shall I do with it?" - -The shorter of the two boys, drawing his heels together, made a low bow -to the girl who had resumed her place on the window-seat. "My Lady Jane -Grey," said he. "Welcome to our palace of Westminster. Is it not a -cheerful place? But for the four of us here gathered I doubt if there -be a soul within its walls under five and fifty years of age." - -"My Lady Jane," said tall Guildford Dudley, making his bow in turn, "is -kind to come here to relieve our dulness." - -Now Edward clapped his hands impatiently. "Think, Barnaby, think. What -shall we do?" - -Barnaby looked out through the mullioned window. "Down there in the -garden are bows and arrows. Suppose we be Robin Hood and his men and -shoot at wands?" - -"Good!" cried Edward. "They told me not to go out-of-doors while the -sun was hot, nor walk in the garden without one of my -gentlemen-at-arms. Now will I do both. Come, Jane, you shall judge -among us for our skill. There's a little staircase just beyond the -arras that leads into the garden." - -He sprang up, his pale face flushed with the spirit of adventure, and -throwing his arm over Barnaby's shoulder ran with him to the stairs. - -Guildford Dudley smiled. "What say you, Lady Jane? Will you leave your -book? 'Tis the royal order, you know." - -"Very gladly, my lord. I was desiring something better to do." They -followed the others to the staircase, and a moment later found -themselves in the sunny garden. - -From a flower bed Barnaby produced a rounded stick, some three feet -long, and stuck it in the ground at thirty paces from a seat under a -plane-tree. "Jane shall sit here and be our judge," said he, "while we -three shoot at yonder wand." - -The three boys chose their bows, which were quite as long as they were -tall, and carefully fitted arrows to the cords. Then, standing under -the tree, Edward took aim and loosed his bowstring. The arrow went very -wild, clipping leaves from a yew some distance to the right. - -Barnaby shot next and came nearer the wand. "My eye needs training," -said he. "'Tis not near true yet." - -Lord Guildford aimed carefully, and sent his shaft just over the wand's -top. "Best of the three!" cried Barnaby, and the Lady Jane clapped her -hands and smiled at the tall, fair-haired boy. - -The second round was not very different. Edward, his arm shaking as he -tried to hold the taut bow straight, shot his arrow into the ground. -Barnaby missed the wand by an inch or two to the right, and Guildford -grazed it, shooting very close. - -Edward's third try was little better than his other two. His shaft went -high and wide. He dropped his bow and threw himself on the ground at -Jane's feet. "I can't do it," he complained. "'Tis idle trying. They -never let me train my hand at sports." - -But the other boys were adepts. Barnaby sent his third arrow right to -the base of the wand so that the stick bent back, and then Guildford, -taking the greatest care, let fly a shaft that hit the stick fairly and -split it in two. "Well shot!" cried Barnaby. Guildford turned about, a -smile on his pleasant face. "How was that, Lady Jane?" - -"Splendid!" answered the girl. "If I had a prize I'd give it to you," -and she made room for him to sit beside her on the bench. - -Edward, his chin resting in his hand, was looking towards a gate at the -rear of the garden. "I wish," he said slowly, "that we could go out -into that lane and see what is happening there, just as other children -do." - -"Why not?" exclaimed Barnaby. "Who's to say no? Let's have a peep -outside. Nobody'll be the wiser." - -Edward got to his feet doubtfully, but when he saw the other three -quite in earnest he laughed, and ran ahead of them to the gate. He -swung it wide open and the four trooped out into the lane. - -The walls of the palace grounds ran for some distance, but as soon as -the children had turned a corner they came into a street of shops and -small dwelling-houses where there were many people. They walked slowly, -pointing things out to one another and looking curiously at the new -sights about them. Finally Lady Jane spied a pedler standing in the -road, with a basket at his waist hung by a rope about his neck. He was -calling out in a loud voice to attract attention to his wares. "Let's -see what he has," she exclaimed, running over towards him. - -A number of people, attracted by the pedler's words, had already -gathered near him, but the girl and the three boys stopped directly in -front of him. He was a jolly-looking fellow, with a very red face, and -a broad-brimmed hat, wound with an orange scarf, stuck far back on his -head. "Come buy, come buy!" he called in a singsong voice. "Here are -little mirrors for the ladies, fresh from the court of Paris, wherein -each may see how beautiful she is and how well her kerchief suits her. -And here be ribbands will set the lads' hearts aflutter, and pieces of -lace made after the fashion of Mechlin. Come buy, come buy! Come, my -good dame, your man will be glad to see you look so fine when he comes -home." But the woman he looked at laughed and shook her head. "He keeps -his eyes for the food that's awaiting him," said she. - -"What ho!" cried the pedler, thrusting his hand into the pile of small -articles that lay heaped in his basket. "Talking of food, here be -knives, each in a leather jacket of finest Spanish make, will carve you -a venison haunch or a foeman's gizzard, just as your fancy sits. Here, -my fine gentlemen," said he, extending a couple of the knives towards -Edward, Barnaby, and Guildford, "you should have such to cut your way -into court." - -"I've a knife here," said Barnaby, touching the scabbard of his short -sword, "worth twenty of those bodkins." - -"Hark to him!" cried the pedler. "Bodkins indeed! Why, 'twas only -yestereve his Majesty ordered a dozen of them to arm his Yeomen of the -Guard!" He looked at Lady Jane, noting the richness of her dress. "What -will my lady have? She has taste, I warrant. A sweet dye for the hair, -a ring, a love philtre, a girdle set with gems?" As he spoke he held up -one thing after another, tempting the four to draw near him. - -Lady Jane looked into the basket and spied in a corner a bracelet hung -with curiously cut bangles. "I like that," said she, pointing it out to -the others. - -"Ah!" cried the pedler. "The lady has good taste! 'Tis a sweet -bracelet, captured from the Moors when the great city of Granada fell. -Each of these bangles has a prayer writ upon it, and 'tis said that -worn upon the left arm, just above the wrist, 'twill bring good luck -beyond all wishing for." - -"Take it as my gift, Lady Jane," said Edward, stretching out his hand -for it. - -"And the price," continued the pedler, "is most monstrous low, too low -in fact by half, and yet 'tis the price. A mere matter of five -florins." - -Edward put his hand to his belt. He had no purse with him. "'Tis a fair -price," said he. "I'll have the money sent you," and again he held out -his hand. - -"Sent me? Oh, no, fine sir. This hour I may be here, the next in -Cheapside. Who buys of me pays in hand." He looked at the other two -boys smilingly. "Such a small sum, only five florins." - -But as it chanced they also had no purses with them. "Never mind, -Edward," said Barnaby. "Lady Jane can have a finer one another day." - -"No," said Edward, frowning, "she shall have it now." He looked at the -pedler. "Give me the bracelet and in twenty minutes a man shall fetch -you the money. Be at the palace gate. I'll send it to you." - -The pedler shook his head. "An old bird must be wary, young sir. I -might wait and wait and winter come and go, but no five florins. That -is my rule to all, be ye whoever ye may." - -Edward, however, had the Tudor hate of all opposition. "Give me the -bracelet!" he exclaimed, stamping his foot on the paving. "And trust my -word for pay, or I'll see you soundly thrashed and driven out of -London!" - -"Oh ho!" cried the pedler. "Sits the wind so? 'Twill need a bigger man -than you to do one or t'other." - -"Bigger than I!" cried the boy, his face like a sudden thunder-storm. -"Why, you rascal you, I'm----" But before he could speak the word -Barnaby had twitched his sleeve, and whispered, "Ssh--look about you." - -Edward turned around. A few paces behind him a tall man, clad all in -black, with long black moustaches and eyes that blazed with anger, had -come to a stand. Now he turned to a man with a halberd who stood at his -heel. "Drive that rogue away, and scatter the crowd!" he ordered. In a -trice pedler and bystanders were on the wing. - -The man in black stepped up to the four children. "So your Majesty -would roam the streets at will?" said he. "And did your Majesty deign -to consider what would happen to this country had one of these scamps -taken you at your word and fallen foul of you?" - -"I wanted a little holiday, good my lord," pleaded the boy. "'Twas only -for an hour." - -"And one such hour might have changed the history of England," said the -other, who was John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, the most powerful -man in the land and guardian of the King. He looked at the others. "And -what a shame to draw the Lady Jane Grey into the streets! I should have -thought you at least had known better, Guildford." - -The fair-haired youth flinched before his father's frown. "'Twas only -for a glimpse outside the gardens, your Grace," said he. - -"Enough!" commanded the Duke sternly. "We will return to Westminster -now. I would ask your Majesty to be so good as to walk with me." - -Whereupon he offered his arm to the boy king, and led the little -procession back to the gate of the garden by as short a way as he -could. But even so word had got about that the boy who was bargaining -with the pedler was none other than King Edward, and that the -long-bearded man was the Duke of Northumberland. Therefore every one -stared from the safe vantage of windows and doors, but was careful to -keep out of the way, for the Duke was known to be a man of sudden and -bitter wrath. - -The garden-gate closed behind the five of them, and the hour of freedom -was ended. Edward, looking more like a prisoner than a monarch, was led -off to the small room called his cabinet to sign papers and listen to -long reports. One of her mother's maids came in search of the Lady -Jane, and carried her away to the apartments of the Duchess of Suffolk, -where the girl was lectured by her mother the Duchess, and then set to -studying a book of sermons. - -It was not a happy time for royal children. The boy king, Edward VI, -was kept penned in his palace of Westminster and ruled with a rod of -iron by the stern Duke; his two half-sisters, the Princess Mary and the -Princess Elizabeth, were both kept well guarded in the country and -rarely allowed to see their friends; and his cousin, the Lady Jane -Grey, who was next in line of succession to the throne, was hardly -freer than these other royal children. They were all really only pawns -in a great game of chess that was being played by the great noblemen of -England, and no one seemed to care in the least whether they were happy -or not. - -The Lady Jane did not stay long at Westminster Palace. A few days after -her outing with the three boys her father and mother took her back with -them to their country home. Such a trip was made slowly and with much -ceremony. The Duchess, her daughter, and their ladies-in-waiting rode -in great lumbering coaches, or chariots, while the Duke and his -gentlemen, who often numbered as many as a hundred, rode as a guard of -honor. If the weather was fine the journey was pleasant, the cavalcade -stopping at noon to picnic under the trees by the road, and arriving at -night at some quaint inn, to be welcomed by a cheery host and hostess, -leaping wood-fires, glistening pewter, and the fragrance of a great -variety of roasted meats. But when the weather was bad and the wheels -of the chariots sunk so deep in the mire that the horses could hardly -pull them out again, and the snow fell or the wind whistled about the -mounted cavaliers, then travel through "merry England" was not so happy -an affair, and men and women were glad enough to reach their homes. - -The Lady Jane had been trained to absolute obedience by a mother who -seemed made of iron. She was forced to study in her own room on days -when the rest of the household were out-of-doors hunting or hawking, -and was set tasks translating from the Latin or Greek instead of -playing in the garden. Once the famous scholar Roger Ascham came to the -Duke of Suffolk's home at Bradgate Hall. He met the Duke and his wife -with all their friends riding through the park on the way to the hunt. -He asked where he would find the Lady Jane, and was told she was in her -closet reading. He went into the house and found her seated at a window -studying one of the works of the Greek writer Plato. Much surprised -Ascham asked her why she gave up the sport of hunting for the sake of -study. - -The Lady Jane smiled, and answered quite seriously, "I think all their -sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure I find in Plato. -Alas! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure means." - -Just two years after Lady Jane had watched the three boys shooting -arrows at Westminster she was married to one of them, the tall -Guildford Dudley. He was the son of the great Duke of Northumberland, -who was already planning to put his son and his son's wife on the -English throne after the death of the delicate Edward VI. The wedding -was very magnificent, and every one predicted that the little lady and -her nineteen-year old husband would be very happy. - -Edward, the boy king, died barely six weeks later, when he had not -quite reached his sixteenth birthday. Then great events happened to -Lady Jane. The Duke of Northumberland and many other lords and ladies -went to the house where she was staying and told her that the King had -disinherited both his sister the Princess Mary and his sister the -Princess Elizabeth, and had ordered that Jane Grey should succeed to -the crown. - -Then her own father and mother and, after them, all the lords and -ladies knelt before her and kissed her hand and called her Queen Jane. -She was too surprised at first to make any reply, but a little later -she told them all she did not wish to be Queen. They answered that it -was not a matter of her choice, but was her destiny. Reserved and -obedient as ever, the girl bent her head and allowed her parents to -proclaim her Queen. - -On July 10, 1553, Lady Jane went from Richmond to the Palace of -Westminster in London, where she was dressed in the great robes of -state. Then she proceeded by barge down the river Thames to the Tower -of London, which was then both a palace and a prison. As she landed and -entered the Tower grounds the people hailed her as Queen. Her gown was -of green and gold and covered with jewels, and her young husband walked -beside her under a canopy, dazzlingly arrayed in a court suit of white -and gold. - -This quiet little Princess only reigned as Queen of England for nine -days. Most of the country rose in arms on behalf of Mary Tudor, Edward -VI's oldest sister, and the Duke of Northumberland's army was soon -defeated and he was taken prisoner. Jane had no wish to be Queen; she, -like the others, thought that Mary was the one entitled to rule. When -her father came to her on July nineteenth and told her that her friends -had been beaten and that she was no longer the Queen she was really -glad. She had been sitting alone in her chair of state in the council -chamber when he came to her. He looked at her, deserted by all her -court, and his eyes filled with tears. "Come down from that, my child," -said he. "That is no place for you." Jane rose and he took her in his -arms. As they stood there together they heard borne to them on the -summer air loud rejoicing voices crying, "Long live good Queen Mary!" - -Lady Jane looked up at her father. "Can I go home?" she asked. He bent -his head, but did not answer. He did not know what was in store for -them. - -In spite of its glitter and magnificence that was a cruel age in -England. The Church was split into two parts and each hated the other -and did its best to destroy it when it had the power. It was the same -with the great nobles. One followed another in ruling the state and -each had little mercy for a fallen leader. The great Duke of -Northumberland had lost, and now his enemies sent him to the scaffold -as he had earlier sent his own rivals. - -The new Queen Mary, though she was later to be known as Bloody Mary, -did not wish harm to befall Jane Grey. Jane and her husband were kept -in the Tower as prisoners and in time might have been freed had not -some new rebels in the country taken arms against Queen Mary and -threatened to drive her from the throne. Then the statesmen decided -that such a rival as Jane Grey was too dangerous, and she was ordered -to be tried for treason. She was found guilty, as were her father and -her husband Guildford Dudley, and they were all ordered to be beheaded -on Tower Hill. There on February 12, 1554, when she was only seventeen, -Lady Jane was beheaded for having tried to make herself Queen. As a -matter of fact she had never wanted to be Queen, nor acted except as -her parents ordered. - -Of the four children who had run out of the Westminster garden three -years before only one was still living, the merry Barnaby Fitzpatrick. -He became a great soldier, and was known as the Baron of Upper Ossory -in Ireland when the Princess Elizabeth succeeded her sister Mary and -became "Good Queen Bess." The world had not been very kind to young -Edward Tudor nor to Guildford Dudley nor to Jane Grey. It was their -misfortune to have been born so near the throne. All their lives they -were really prisoners. There are few girls in history whose fate was as -tragic as that of Jane, the little "Nine Days' Queen of England." - - - - -VI - -Mary Queen of Scots - -The Girl of the French Court: 1542-1587 - - -Henry II, King of France, was riding into his good city of Rouen. The -townspeople, eager to show their loyalty and glad of a chance holiday, -had decked both the streets and themselves in all the hues of the -rainbow. Henry the King and his company of gallant gentlemen rode into -the city by the great highway that led from Paris, and Catherine his -Queen, with her ladies, came up the winding river Seine in decorated -barges, taking their course in and out among the many emerald isles -like slow, calm-moving swans. The King stopped by the bridge that -crossed the Seine in the heart of the city, and throwing his horse's -reins to a page, descended the bank to the margin of the river, and -handed the Lady Catherine to shore. He was a brilliant king, with much -of the charm of his father Francis I, who had met England's Bluff King -Hal on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and he bore himself towards his -Queen with a noble grace. Her hand in his he led her up from the shore -and over the crimson carpets the good people of Rouen had spread in -their streets, to a pavilion fluttering with flags, where seats had -been placed for them. Behind the King and Queen came the -ladies-in-waiting and Henry's gentlemen, and each man tried to imitate -his royal master and hand his lady up the steps of the pavilion with as -fine an air. Several people were already awaiting the royal guests in -the stand, and among them was a girl, about ten years old, who was -sitting in a big armchair, and smiling at the people in the street -below, at the flags and bunting, the music and the cheers. - -As the King and Queen reached the top step of the pavilion the little -girl rose and stood with one hand resting on the arm of her chair. Her -face was pale, but her features were very lovely, so that any one would -have predicted she would some day be a great beauty. Her eyes were the -rich brown called chestnut, and her hair, which waved back from her -forehead, was the same color. She wore a white satin cap, fastened very -low on one side of her head, with a rosette of ostrich feathers, held -by a ruby brooch. Her dress was of white damask, fitting closely, with -a small ruff of scalloped point lace, below which hung a collar of -rubies. About her waist was a girdle set with the same red stones. Her -sleeves were very large and patterned with strings of pearls. She made -a lovely picture as she stood before the big crimson-lined chair. - -King Henry bent, and raising the girl's small hand, touched it to his -lips. "How is our little Queen of Scots?" said he. "Our little -bride-to-be of France?" - -"Well, please your Majesty," answered the little girl, quite -self-possessed, "and glad to meet your Highness here." - -Then Catherine the Queen, stooping, kissed the girl on each cheek. -"Dear Lady Mary, you are a very gem, as sweet as any I have ever laid -eyes on. Come sit beside me and tell me of your mother." - -So the ten-year-old girl, already Queen of Scotland, and lately brought -to France to marry the Dauphin Francis, took her seat with the royal -pair, and watched the great pageant which now wound through the Rouen -streets. It was a clear, fresh noon, with just enough breeze from the -Seine to ruffle the folds of the innumerable banners. First in the -great procession came the friars and monks in their gray and brown -robes and with their sandaled feet. Then followed the city clergy, the -gorgeous Archbishop in his robes of state, with priests bearing gold -and silver crosses in a long line after him, and white-clad boys -swinging censers to the time of a low rhythmic chant. - -"Here come the different guilds," said a gentleman of the court, who -stood by the chair of small Queen Mary. "See the rich salt merchants in -their gray taffeta, with black velvet caps and long white feathers." - -After the salt merchants came the drapers, in white satin doublets and -hose, with gold buckles gleaming in their high white caps, and after -them marched the fishmongers in shining red satin. Each of the trades -of Rouen went by, each arrayed in its own colors, and as the pavilion -was passed caps were doffed and cheers rose at sight of the smiling -Henry and Catherine and the demure-faced little Mary. - - [Illustration: MARY STUART - At the Age of Nine] - -After the guilds and the soldiers, some on foot and some on horse, and -all proud and dazzling as so many peacocks, came triumphal cars, -representing gods and goddesses, and foreign countries. The little -Scotch girl opened her eyes wide as she saw six huge elephants swing -along the street, the first bearing on its broad back a tray of lighted -lamps, the second a miniature church, the third a villa, the fourth a -castle, the fifth a town, and the sixth a ship. After them came a troop -of men dressed like Turks, waving scimitars. Then followed a car -bearing a grotto with Orpheus seated within on a throne, listening to -soft music played by a group of girls who sat about his feet. Finally -appeared a barge bearing an imitation of a grove of trees with a great -rock in the centre and Hercules, club in hand, standing by it. The car -was stopped directly in front of the royal pavilion. A monster, the -seven-headed hydra, crept out from behind the rock, and as soon as it -was in full view Hercules attacked it. A mimic battle followed, and at -its end Hercules had overcome the monster and cut off its seven heads, -one of which he held up to the King. Henry flung him a purse of gold -pieces, while the courtiers cheered. Catherine the Queen turned towards -Mary. "Have you ever seen such sights in Scotland, _chèrie_?" -she asked. - -Mary shook her head. "My people are not so gay as your French," she -answered. - -Mary had been brought up in the customs of royal courts, and although -she found this of France unusually brilliant she had felt quite at home -in it since she had first come from Scotland. Her father, James V, had -died when she was only a few days old, and she had been crowned nine -months later. Dressed in robes of state the baby, not a year old, had -been carried from her nursery to the church, and there Cardinal Beton -had placed the heavy royal crown on her head, had bent her little -fingers about the sceptre, and had girded her with the old historic -sword that had been worn by so many fighting kings of Scotland. After -that the great nobles had knelt before her and raised her tiny hand to -their lips in the kiss of allegiance, and royal princes from other -countries had kissed her on the cheek. The little Queen had cried, -seeing so many strange people about her, and her mother had hurried her -back to the nursery. - -She soon grew used, however, to seeing strange people and strange -happenings. When she was five years old she was betrothed to the heir -of the French throne, the Dauphin, and a little later was sent to -France to be educated. Her mother chose four Scotch girls of noble -families to go with her, Mary Beaton, Mary Livingston, Mary Seton, and -Mary Fleming, and these four were always with little Mary Stuart. They -were called the "Queen's Maries," and as they grew up became famous for -their beauty and their wit. - -The court of France under Henry II was very gay. Tournaments had been -revived, and the King and his courtiers liked to try their skill with -lances in the lists. The court moved from one château to another, and -at each there were hunting and hawking, dancing, archery contests, and -tennis matches. Wherever the King and Queen went, there Mary Stuart -went also, usually accompanied by her powerful uncles, the Duke of -Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine. In that company of beautiful and -clever women the little Scotch Queen, girl as she was, could more than -hold her own. She was already famous for the loveliness of her face and -figure, and for her learning. The court of Valois made her their pet, -and Queen Catherine used to say, "Our petite Reinette Escossaise has -but to smile to turn the heads of all Frenchmen." - -At all these royal châteaux Mary met Francis the Dauphin, whom she was -to marry. He was about her age, but pale and delicate, and lacking the -gay spirits of his father. He loved to hear of brave deeds, and he had -courage, but not the strength to do the things he wanted. Like Edward -VI, the boy king who sat on the English throne at about that time, -Francis had never had a fair chance to be happy. He liked Mary Stuart -and she liked him, which was fortunate, but they would have been -married to each other whether they had cared or not. - -When Mary was sixteen and Francis a year younger they were married in -the great church of Notre Dame in Paris. It was one of the most -magnificent weddings Paris had ever seen. The young Queen of Scotland -was dressed in white, with a blue mantle and a train covered with -pearls. On her head she wore a royal crown set with diamonds, rubies, -pearls, and emeralds, and at her throat hung a matchless jewel known as -"the Great Harry," which had belonged to her great-grandfather, Henry -VII of England. The church was a sea of jewels, for in those days men -wore almost as many precious stones as women, and the great stone -pillars set off a blaze of costumes that reveled in all the colors of -the rainbow. The nobles of Scotland were there as well as those of -France, and as soon as the ceremony was over Mary turned and greeted -her boy husband as Francis I, King of Scotland. Handfuls of gold coins -were scattered to the crowds in the streets as the bridal party left -the church, and heralds announced the coming of the "Queen-Dauphiness," -and the "King-Dauphin." - -That afternoon there were masquerades in the streets, and at five -o'clock a great wedding supper in the Palais de Justice. The men wore -suits of frosted cloth of gold, the women gowns that were stiff with -jewels. Each dish was presented to the diners to the sound of music. -After the supper came dancing, and then a masque that was the finest -the court of France had ever seen. First there came into the hall the -seven planets of the skies, Mercury in white satin, with golden girdle -and wings, carrying his wand, or caduceus, in his hand. Mars appeared -in armor, and Venus in sea-green flowing draperies as if she had just -risen from the waves. After the planets came a procession of twelve -hobby-horses, ridden by twelve boy princes, among whom were the -Dauphin's two younger brothers, later to be known as Charles IX and -Henry III. One of the toy horses was ridden by eight-year-old Henry of -Guise, whose golden hair and beautiful blue eyes won the admiration of -the great Italian poet Tasso, and who was to be the last chief of the -house of Guise and to fall, struck down by the blows of the forty-five -guardsmen, as he passed through the halls of the château of Blois to -meet King Henry III, the little boy who rode so gaily by him now. Last -of all there came into the room six ships, decked with cloth of gold -and crimson velvet, their sails of silver gauze fastened to masts of -silver. The ships were slowly steered down the hall, each gliding as -though carried over gently swelling waters, and the sails of each -filling with the breath of an artificial breeze. On each ship were two -chairs of state, in one of which sat a prince in cloth of gold, with a -mask over his eyes. As the ships sailed by the groups of ladies and -young girls each prince seized a lady and placed her on the chair by -his side. King Henry, like a skilful mariner, steered his ship close to -the marble table by which the little bride sat, and reaching down drew -her on board his vessel. The Dauphin caught Queen Catherine, and each -of the other princes chose a belle from the group of lovely ladies. -Then, as if blown by favoring gales, the ships sailed on about the -great room, and out through the archway to the dancing hall. The great -ball that followed was worthy of the day. The dazzling bride danced the -pavon, a form of minuet which was very stately and graceful. Her train -was twelve yards long and was borne after her by a gentleman, so that -she had full chance to show her skill and grace. - -Mary, sixteen years old, now Queen of Scotland and Dauphiness of -France, was quite content with what was already hers, and had no wish -to conquer other crowns. But the grown-up people about her were always -scheming, and cared absolutely nothing for her wishes where matters of -state were concerned. So, when Mary the Queen of England died and the -Princess Elizabeth ascended the English throne, Henry II of France -insisted that his daughter-in-law was the rightful sovereign of the -British Isles. A great tournament was being given in honor of the -marriage of Elizabeth of France to Philip II of Spain, and the French -King had Mary borne to her place on the royal balcony in a car of -triumph with the banners of Scotland and England together flying over -her head, and heralds in front of her crying, "Hail, hail, all hail the -Queen of England!" The people took up the cry and soon all those at the -tournament had hailed Mary under this new title. Little did they think -that news of this, carried by sure couriers to Elizabeth in London, -would cause her to nurse thoughts of revenge against her cousin during -many years to come. - -Hailed by this new title the innocent girl-queen Mary took her place in -the royal balcony and the tournament began. It was an afternoon in -early summer and directly before her stretched the green carpet of the -lists where the knights were to try their skill at arms. The King -himself was to set his lance in rest, and was already riding up and -down at his end of the lists on a curveting bay recently sent him by -the Duke of Savoy. Each knight wore the colors of some lady, Henry the -black and white of the Lady Diane de Poitiers, the Duke of Guise red -and white, the Duke of Ferrara yellow and red, the Duke of Nemours -yellow and black. - -It was a stirring sight to see the knights, clad in full armor, the -visors of their helmets drawn, grip their long heavy lances under their -arms, and setting spurs to their great chargers, dash swiftly across -the field and meet midway in a terrific clash. Lance rang on shield or -helm or breastplate, the riders struggled to hold their seats in the -saddle, and then if neither was unhorsed they rode past each other to -turn at the farther end of the lists, and prepare for the next onset. -The little Queen, with her four Maries about her, watched the dashes -and the shivering of lances with excitement in her eyes, and clapped -her hands or sighed as a favorite knight came off victorious or was -hurled from his saddle to the ground. But that day all the knights were -powerful, and though each challenged the others in turn none could -claim to be the absolute champion. - -The sun was sinking low, and the knights had given their lances to -their squires when King Henry rode across to the royal balcony, and -raising his visor, spoke to a man who was sitting near Mary. "Come, my -lord Count of Montgomery," said the King. "I would fain break a lance -with you. To horse, for the honor of your lady and the glory of -France!" - -The Count rose from his seat. "It is an honor, sire, to meet so great a -champion in the lists, but to-day I must crave pardon. The hour is over -late for me." - -"The light holds well, my lord. 'Twill see one meeting," answered -Henry. "I would have the court see how well Montgomery can hold a -lance." - -"It is most gracious of you, sire. Were the time otherwise----" It was -quite evident that the Count was anxious not to meet the King. - -But Henry was impatient of refusal. He interrupted, and said with a -hasty gesture, "An I must command I will. To horse, my lord, and with -what speed you may." - -There was nothing for the Count to do but bow, whisper an excuse to the -lady at his side, and leaving the pavilion seek the tents. In a short -time he rode out into the field, his armor shining golden in the -sunset, his lance in his gauntleted hands, a favor of blue and orange -ribbons fluttering at the crest of his helmet. Meantime the King had -curbed his horse to a place before the balcony where the Queen sat. -Catherine leaned forward. "Have you not ridden enough to-day, sire?" -she asked. "I would beg you to stop." - -"One more joust," said Henry, "and this one, madame, in honor of -yourself." - -"But, sire," she persisted, "you cannot excel the deeds you have -already done to-day, and now you should join the ladies." - -Henry, however, with a smile, shook his head. "This one shall end the -day," he said, and rode to his end of the course. - -Mary Seton leaned forward to speak to her young mistress. "The Count of -Montgomery, being Captain of the Scottish Guard, dared not refuse, with -you here to see," she whispered. "See how he reins up his charger. He -is young, and not anxious to break his lance on the King's -coat-of-mail." - -Montgomery took his place, lowered his visor, and set his lance. At the -opposite end the King did the same. Then at a signal each touched his -spurs to his horse, and rode furiously fast to the onset. There was a -crash, the shock of steel, and a cry from the audience. The Count had -driven his lance at the King's helmet, and it had broken short. The -blow sent the King reeling and he was whirled about so fast that he had -difficulty to keep his seat. The Count rode on, but the King, only too -evidently dazed, swayed in his saddle, and then fell forward on his -charger's neck. A dozen men sprang forward, and catching the King, -helped him to the ground. A glance showed what had happened. -Montgomery's lance had broken and a splinter of the steel had been -driven through an eyehole of the helmet into the King's head just over -his right eye. The men took off his armor and carried him as gently as -they could into the palace. - -Thus suddenly the celebrations of the Princess Elizabeth's wedding came -to an end. The young and reluctant Count of Montgomery had given the -King his death wound, and a few days later the spirited monarch died. -The triumphal arches and banners were torn down, and the bells of Paris -tolled slowly where they had rung joyful peals so short a time before. - -So the Dauphin Francis and Mary Stuart became King and Queen of France. -He was sixteen and she seventeen. They were too young to reign and -Francis was much too delicate. Moreover there were two or three -grown-up people who had no intention of letting the boy and girl have -their own way. Behind the throne stood the boy's mother, Queen -Catherine de' Medici, and the unscrupulous and ambitious uncles of the -girl, the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine. They headed the -Catholic party in the kingdom and they were pursuing the hapless -Huguenots with torch and sword. Careless of the young King's wishes -they plunged France into terrible civil wars wherein massacres were a -matter of almost daily occurrence. - -Francis and Mary were crowned in the old Cathedral of Rheims, where -Joan of Arc had once seen her Dauphin crowned, and over the royal pair -hung the banners of France, Scotland, and England. Then they traveled -south to the château of Blois, and Francis amused himself with hunting -while the Queen and her four Maries either rode out after the gentlemen -to watch the sport or stayed at home to listen to the poems and songs -of troubadours or walked on the banks of the small winding river Loire. -She was more beautiful than ever, and very fond of her husband Francis, -and their little court, made up largely of boys and girls nearly their -own age, enjoyed itself thoroughly while the dark figures of Catherine -and Mary's uncles were free to plunge the kingdom into blood. - -The house of Valois had spent all its strength, and the four sons of -the gallant Henry II, three of whom were to be kings in turn, were -fated to be weak and sickly. Francis drooped and pined, and a year had -barely passed before his reign was ended, and Mary, patient nurse at -his side, was made a widow. Charles, the second brother, came to the -throne, only to find it a place of weariness and regret, and to shudder -at the horrors of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew's Eve, planned by his -mother. Perhaps it was as well for Mary that her reign in France had -ended. The land had fallen into evil days, wherein there was little -happiness for any one. - -The Queen of Scots, still only a girl, went back to her northern home, -and the people of that mountainous land were glad to welcome her to the -old historic Palace of Holyrood in Edinburgh. But even when she was -leaving France her cousin Elizabeth the English Queen showed her -enmity. Mary had asked to be allowed to pass through England on her way -to Scotland, but this Elizabeth refused, and Mary was obliged to make -the long sea-voyage. - -The youth and beauty and the sweet manner of the young Queen won all -Scotch hearts to her. She was at once beset by royal suitors; the King -of Sweden, the Archduke Charles, son of the Holy Roman Emperor, and Don -Carlos, son of Philip II of Spain, all wanted to marry her. In the -midst of the plots and plans of her statesmen the young Queen took -matters into her own hands and married her cousin, the handsome Earl of -Darnley, whom she loved with all the passion of her nature. - -Though the Scotch people had longed to have their Queen home again they -did not make her happy when she lived with them. Plots and counterplots -surrounded her, the leaders of the Catholics and the Protestants were -continually fighting over her, and the dashing Darnley proved a weak -and vicious man. Mary did what she could to steer her course through -these troubled waters, but she was met by treachery on every hand. At -last she was betrayed by some powerful men who wished to be rid of her -and to rule the kingdom as guardians for her infant son, Prince James. -She was delivered over to the English, and charges were brought against -her of having conspired against Queen Elizabeth. Her judges found her -guilty; the English Queen, remembering how Mary had been proclaimed in -France as Queen of England, turned a deaf ear to all pleas for mercy, -and so Mary, the beautiful, heroic Queen of Scotland, came to her death -on the scaffold. Like so many others who had been brought up in royal -palaces in that glittering but cruel age she met a tragic fate not so -much on account of her own acts as through the bitter hatreds of other -people. - -Mary's son became King James VI of Scotland, and when Queen Elizabeth -died King James I of England. In France the two young brothers of her -boy husband, Charles IX and Henry III, had met the same untimely deaths -as that young King, and the throne passed to the valiant Henry of -Navarre. The house of Guise had fallen, and the bloody civil wars were -ending. There was little left of that gay court of France where Mary -had seen such splendors as a girl. Like the thunder-storm that ends a -summer day tragedy too often closed those pageants. So it had been with -the life of the famous Scotch Queen, who had ruled all hearts as a girl -in France. - - - - -VII - -Pocahontas - -The Girl of the Virginia Woods: 1595-1617 - - -Deep snow covered the fields about the encampment of the Algonquin -Indians on the banks of the river James. The snow had been falling for -days during January, and made the long, low houses of bark and boughs -look like so many great white ridges high above the ice-bound river. -They were big houses, these "long houses" as they were called, each one -large enough to hold twenty families. Each family had a compartment to -itself, with sleeping bunks built against the walls, and curtains of -deerskin to shield the family from the open passage which ran the -length of the house. At different places in this passage fire-pits were -built on the earth floor, and each pit gave heat enough to warm four -Indian families and an opportunity for them to cook their meals. Some -smoke went out at rude chimneys made in the roof, but much of it stayed -in and filtered through to the different living-rooms. Each of these -"long houses" was the home of from eighty to one hundred Indians. - -The river James was called by the Indians the Pow-ha-tan, and the -Algonquin tribe that lived upon its shores went by the same name. The -tribe's chief settlement was the village of Wero-woco-moco, and here -the famous old chief, called by the white men Pow-ha-tan but by the -Indians Wa-bun-so-na-cook, was usually to be found. He had built there -a "long house" for his own family, and at one end of it was the council -room in which the various chiefs of the tribe met with him to discuss -all matters relating to tribe affairs. Here they spent much of the time -smoking about a fire-pit when the snow was falling and the hunting -season at an end. - -Before the council-house a group of boys were playing "snow-snake" and -tumbling about in the drifts on a raw afternoon in January. Suddenly -there appeared an Indian runner, coming noiselessly out of the woods -and crossing the open space where the boys were playing. "It's -Ra-bun-ta," cried one of them, and making a snowball threw it at the -slim young Indian. Others took up the cry and pelted him with -snowballs, while one named Nan-ta-qua-us dashed forward and tried to -trip him with the knob-headed stick they had been using in their game -of "snow-snake." - -Ra-bun-ta, however, kicked the stick away and gave the boy a push which -sent him sprawling. He dodged the snowballs and ran on without a word -to the door of the old chief's house. Pushing the matting aside he -dashed in and spied the chief sitting with other braves about a fire at -the farther end of the house. Other Indians were lounging about nearer -fires and children were playing up and down the passage. Some of these -were turning somersaults in the open spaces between the fires while -others were trying to balance on their heads and walk on their hands. - -As the runner darted along the passage a girl, dressed in buckskin, -came whirling along turning handsprings. Ra-bun-ta leaped to one side, -but the girl's feet struck full against his breast, and with such force -that he was thrown backward while the girl went tumbling to the ground. -Both fell sprawling just clear of a fire-pit. There followed a great -roar of laughter, the other children danced about in delight, while the -chiefs, loving a rough joke, leaned back and ridiculed the upset -messenger. "Knocked down by a girl! Oh, for shame, Ra-bun-ta!" called -one as the young man slowly picked himself up. "You'd make a splendid -brave," cried another. - -But the old chief, taking his pipe from his mouth, looked at the girl -on the floor. "My daughter, you have nearly killed our brother -Ra-bun-ta with your foolery," said he. "That is hardly young girl's -play. Why will you be such a little _po-ca-hun-tas_!" - -"Po-ca-hun-tas! Po-ca-hun-tas!" called the other children delightedly, -using the word which in the Algonquin tongue meant "little tomboy." - -Ra-bun-ta, laughing, turned quickly and made a dash at the little girl, -but she jumped aside in time to avoid him. "A _po-ca-hun-tas_ must -always be on guard," she exclaimed as he stepped past her. - -The runner now turned and faced the chief Pow-ha-tan. "Oh, strong one," -said he, "the feet of the little princess Ma-ta-oka, whom you have now -renamed Po-ca-hun-tas, are more dangerous to me than the 'snake-stick' -of her brother Nun-ta-qua-us. I have with difficulty escaped from these -two with my life, but it is well I have been able to do so, for I have -news for you. I have traveled fast over the snow to tell you. The -braves who are with your mighty brother O-pe-chan-ca-nough have seized -the pale-face chieftain in the swamp-lands of the Chicka-hominy and are -even now bringing him here to this your council-house." - -Pow-ha-tan nodded his head. "It is well, Ra-bun-ta," said he. "We will -be ready for him." - -The young Indian messenger bowed and made his way to one of the nearer -fire-pits. As he warmed his hands over the blaze other young braves -crowded about him, asking him countless questions. One wanted to know -if it was true that the white chief wore a headpiece of heavy iron, and -another if the chief had used magic against the braves, and a third if -he was indeed half as tall again as any Indian chief. Ra-bun-ta -answered their questions as best he could, and then, squatting by the -fire while he ate the parched Indian corn that the little Ma-ta-oka -brought him, he told how the "Great Captain" had been surprised and -taken prisoner in the swamps by O-pe-chan-ca-nough and two hundred of -his braves. "The Great Captain" had only had two white warriors with -him, and these had been slain by the Indian chief, but then the white -chief had caught his Indian guide and held him in front of him as a -shield, and so saved his life while he shot flames through his magic -fire-tube. Finally the Captain's foot had slipped and he had fallen -into a mud-hole, and then the braves had found it an easy matter to -surround him and make him prisoner. They found his clothes shot through -and through with arrows, but the Captain as brave and confident as -ever. - -The news that the great White Captain was coming to the village caused -great excitement. The Indians admired courage and craftiness above all -other qualities, and this pale-face was known to be extraordinarily -brave and cunning. Reports of this Captain John Smith, the governor of -the little settlement of white people that was called Virginia, had -spread far and wide among the Indians, and he was undoubtedly the white -chief whom the Indians most admired and feared. All that night and the -next day the Pow-ha-tans talked of Captain Smith, and the chief's -daughter Ma-ta-oka, or Po-ca-hun-tas as she was now called in jest, -listened eagerly to all the stories about him. Already she thought of -him as an all-conquering hero. - -The Indians were all waiting out-of-doors when the chief -O-pe-chan-ca-nough and his braves reached the village with their -prisoner. Wild yells rent the air as they caught sight of the tall -white man, walking fearlessly among the red men, his head held high, -and his eyes smiling. He was led to the council-house, and there a -great feast was spread before him, which he shared with Pow-ha-tan and -the other chiefs of the tribe. Po-ca-hun-tas, watching secretly from a -corner, saw that the white man ate heartily, although she knew he must -be in doubt as to what fate lay in store for him. - -Pow-ha-tan was a wise chieftain and he knew that if he should kill -Captain Smith he would cause a relentless hatred among the white -settlers towards his own tribe. He knew the white men were strong and -he preferred to have them as friends rather than as enemies in his wars -with his tribe's chief foes, the Manna-ho-acks. When a prisoner was not -killed he was usually made a slave, but Pow-ha-tan thought the Captain -too big a man to use in that way, and so he decided to treat him as a -guest, talk with him for several days about affairs between the -settlers and his tribe, and then send him home with many presents. - -To Captain Smith's surprise he was invited to regard himself as a guest -in Pow-ha-tan's house, and the following day was adopted by the chief -as a son, and given a large grant of land in the neighborhood. The old -chief's daughter seemed much interested in him, and was always waiting -to serve him in any way, occasionally asking him questions which showed -her great curiosity in the white people. The Captain could not help -liking her for her kindness to him, and asked the chief her name. The -latter hesitated, for Indians did not like to let their real names be -known to these strange people. "She is called Po-ca-hun-tas," he -answered evasively. And to Captain Smith she was known as Po-ca-hun-tas -from that time. - -The Indian girl seemed sorry the Captain was leaving when he said -good-bye to her the next day, and wished him a safe journey back to the -Virginia settlement. Captain Smith gave her a few small gifts he had -managed to carry with him, and he promised to bring her more when he -should come again. With the rest of the children she stood out in the -snow to wave him a farewell as he left the village in company with two -of Pow-ha-tan's guides, and that night she dreamed of the "Great -Captain" as a hero in a far country doing prodigious deeds of valor. To -her he now seemed the most wonderful man in the world. - -After the excitement of the "Great Captain's" visit the village of -Wero-woco-moco sank back to its ordinary life, and Po-ca-hun-tas shared -the work of the other girls, although being the daughter of the chief -she was relieved of much of the drudgery that fell to most of them. Two -things she particularly wished for now, the one that she might see the -white Captain again, and the other that she might visit a white man's -village and see all the wonders she had heard so much about. Winter -changed to spring and the Indian braves went hunting, and spring -deepened into summer, and in the early fall her first wish was granted, -for Captain Smith with some friends came to Pow-ha-tan's village to -invite that chief to go with them to the white man's town of Jamestown -to be crowned by the English people as king of the Pow-ha-tan tribe. -The Captain had not forgotten the twelve-year old Indian princess and -had brought her a necklace of coral beads and bracelets set with red -stones, and in thanks she led ten other girls of her own age in an -Indian dance before the Captain and his friends, a graceful dance about -a fire in the forest to the accompaniment of gay Indian songs and the -music of the Indian drum. By now Po-ca-hun-tas and Captain Smith had -become great friends, and Pow-ha-tan, watching them with his shrewd -eyes, decided that if he should ever need to ask a favor of the white -settlers this little daughter of his might prove the best of messengers -to send. - -It was only a few weeks afterward that some of Pow-ha-tan's braves were -made prisoners by the settlers through fear that a conspiracy was being -planned against them. The old chief sent his daughter with Ra-bun-ta to -Jamestown, and she begged the Captain to free the captive braves. Like -Pow-ha-tan John Smith knew when to be gracious, and he at once gave -orders for the release of the Indians. Then he entertained -Po-ca-hun-tas as though she were a royal princess. She met the white -girls and boys who lived at Jamestown and learned their games, teaching -them in exchange the sports of the Algonquin children. One day when -Captain Smith came into the market-place square he found his young -guest leading a line of boys who were turning handsprings. A crowd had -gathered to watch them go round and round the square in a great circle, -the Indian princess at the head, turning better wheels than any of the -boys. She had such a good time that she came again and again, sometimes -on matters of business with Ra-bun-ta, sometimes with her brother -Nun-ta-qua-us, and sometimes with her girl friends. With each visit her -admiration for Captain John Smith increased. - -Those were times when there was little real safety for either Indians -or white men. The settlers were far too often greedy and selfish, -taking land as they pleased, regardless of the fact that it had -belonged to other men for generations, and breaking their agreements -with the Indians as though a promise given to a redskin was of no -value. What the settlers wanted they tried to get by hook or crook, and -so the Indians soon came to distrust, and then to fear and hate them. -Certain discontented men in Jamestown also were planning to rid the -colony of its strong governor Captain Smith, and conspired with -restless Indians to capture and kill him when he was unprepared. Some -of these Indians were of the Algonquin tribe, and one day -Po-ca-hun-tas, stealing silently through the woods, came upon a meeting -of them and overheard their plans. - -This was in midwinter of the year 1609. Provisions had run low in -Jamestown and the settlers were almost starving. Captain Smith, -trusting to the old friendship of Pow-ha-tan, left the colony and -journeyed through the forest to Wero-woco-moco. There he met Pow-ha-tan -and made a treaty with him, by which he was to receive a supply of corn -to carry back to the settlement with him. The chief said it would take -him several days to collect the provisions, and so the Captain pitched -his camp in the woods by the York River to wait until the promised corn -was sent out to him. But meantime certain braves had come to Pow-ha-tan -and shown him how easy it would be to deal the pale-faces a serious -blow by killing their leader and letting the people suffer for -supplies. Pow-ha-tan listened, considered how much harm the white men -had already done his Algonquins, and at last nodded his head. None of -those seated at the council-fire knew that the sharp-eared -Po-ca-hun-tas was hiding close behind one of the deerskin curtains that -hung at her bedroom door. - -The braves ceased their conference and scattered for the night. Then -the girl stole out from her room and glided down the passageway to the -door. There was no moon and she could cross the open space about the -houses without observation. She slipped into the forest, and with -scarcely a crackle of twigs to mark her progress over the dead leaves -she made her way in and out through the trees, following the trail to -the camp on the river with the sure instinct born and bred in her. - -Now and then she would stop and listen or glance up through the bare -branches at the star-strewn sky. Then she would turn and steal on -again, fleet-footed as a deer. So she covered several miles and came -near the river. She stopped to listen and then stepped on again. Soon -she caught the light of a camp-fire shining through the trees. - -She stood behind the trunk of a giant oak and looked at the little camp -before her. At the fire sat a man, his gun resting across his arms. -Near him lay a dozen other men, wrapped in blankets and apparently -asleep. She knew the man on watch was Captain Smith. - -She took a step forward and a dry twig crackled ever so little under -her tread. The Captain turned like the wind, his gun raised in defense. -"Wake up!" he cried. "Watch! I heard a noise!" - -The girl took another step, holding up her hands. "It is I, -Po-ca-hun-tas," she said. "I come alone to speak with you." - -The Captain lowered his gun. "Come, Po-ca-hun-tas," he answered. "You -are always welcome." - -She stepped into the clearing, and the men, glad to find only one girl -where they had feared to see a line of savage Indians, sank back on the -ground. - -"What would you say to me, Po-ca-hun-tas?" asked the Captain, extending -his hand in welcome to her. "I hope you have come to tell me that the -corn and the good cheer will soon be here." - -She took his hand and stood very close to him. "Be guarded, oh, my -father," she answered. "The corn and the good cheer will come just as -they have been promised to you, but even now my father, chief of the -Pow-ha-tans, is gathering all his power to fall upon you and your men -here and kill you. If you would live, get you away from these woods at -once." - -"Is it so?" said the Captain. "Then, men, we must be up and off before -the twigs crack again. How can I thank you, Po-ca-hun-tas, for this -warning?" He thought of the Indian's love of presents and put his hand -in the pocket of his coat, but there was nothing there. Then his eyes -fell on the small compass which hung from a chain at his neck. It was -very valuable to him, but he wanted to show the girl his appreciation -of the greatness of her service. He took it from his neck and held it -out to her. "My daughter," said he, "three times you have come to me in -Jamestown to warn me of dangers that waited for me, and now again you -have saved my life, coming alone, and at risk of your own young life -through the lonely woods and in this gloomy night to warn me. Take this -present, I pray you, from me, and let it always speak to you of the -love for you of Captain Smith." - -All Indians looked upon the compass, or "path-teller" as they called -it, as an instrument of magic, and as Po-ca-hun-tas saw this present -gleaming in the Captain's hand she would have liked to own it. But she -shook her head. - -"No, no, _Cau-co-rouse_," said she, using the Indian word for "Great -Captain." "I must not take it. If it should be seen by my tribesmen, or -even by my father, the chief, I should be as but dead to them, for they -would know that I had warned you whom they have sworn to kill, and so -they would kill me too. Stay not to parley, my father, but be gone at -once." - -"It is well we should," agreed the Captain, and he gave orders to his -men to prepare for the march at once. - -"Good-bye," said Po-ca-hun-tas, giving him her hand again, after the -fashion of the white people. - -"Good-bye, my daughter," he answered. "May we soon meet again when -there will be no danger in the meeting." - -Po-ca-hun-tas slipped away into the forest as silently as she had come, -and threaded her way safely home to her own "long house." No one knew -she had been out of bed. When the Algonquin braves, in war paint, -reached the bank of the York River they found only the embers of a -camp-fire to show that the white men had waited for them there. - - [Illustration: POCAHONTAS - _From the only authentic portrait_] - -Captain Smith got safely back to Jamestown, but he found many of his -own people discontented, and soon afterward, tired out by the continual -difficulties that beset him in Virginia, he gave up his position there -and sailed back to England. Po-ca-hun-tas heard the news and decided -that she had better keep away from Jamestown now that the settlers were -hostile to her father and her great protector was gone. Troubles were -increasing between the Indians and the white men, and neither trusted -the others any more. - -When she was sixteen Po-ca-hun-tas was visiting friends in another -village on the James when she was suddenly made prisoner by a man named -Captain Argall, a trader, who decided to hold the Indian girl as -hostage for the friendship of Pow-ha-tan. He took her to Jamestown, and -there Po-ca-hun-tas was given a certain amount of liberty and met again -some of the boys and girls she had played with before. They all liked -her, and although she missed her free life in the woods she found so -much that was new and strange to interest her that she was not sorry to -stay for a time in Jamestown. Here she soon met a young Englishman -named John Rolfe, who was much attracted by her, and who at length -asked her to marry him. She consented, and a short time after their -marriage she sailed with him to visit his home across seas in England. - -The people of London had seen few Indians and were very curious to -learn more about them. They were charmed with Mistress John Rolfe, or -the Princess Po-ca-hon-tas of Pow-ha-tan, as they liked to call her. -Captain John Smith met her again and told his friends how she had saved -his life that night on the York River. The story spread, and the -Princess Po-ca-hon-tas found herself a heroine in England. But she bore -her honors very modestly, and was much happier alone with her devoted -husband than when she was being stared at by crowds of strange people. -She did not live to go back to Virginia or see her own tribesmen again, -but died in England when she was only twenty-two. - -Ma-ta-oka, or Pocahontas as we call her, was a real heroine, one of the -few daughters we know of that brave, romantic race which so quickly -vanished from America after the white settlers came. Many among the -Indians were cruel and bloodthirsty, many were treacherous and sly, but -Pocahontas we know was warm-hearted and true, faithful to the great -Captain she had admired before she had even seen him and risking her -life to save him from her father. It is fortunate that history has kept -her story, for we must always think more kindly of the Indians when we -remember the little daughter of Powhatan, nicknamed Pocahontas by her -father because she was such a tomboy. - - - - -VIII - -Priscilla Alden - -The Girl of Plymouth: About 1604--after 1680 - - -Two girls stood on the deck of the _Mayflower_, hand clasped in hand, -their eyes fixed on a narrow strip of grayish shore beyond the waste -of tossing ocean. About them stood others, men and women and a few -children, all looking in the same direction, wonder and satisfaction -and a certain awe in their faces. They had been at sea for nearly -thirteen weeks, and during most of that time their little ship had been -buffeted by constant storms. - -"Mary dear," said one of the girls to the other, "can you really -believe that yonder low line is land?" - -"I doubted if it could be when John first pointed it out to me," -answered the other, "but now I'm sure of it. I can almost see the -breakers on the shore. Do you know, Priscilla, that that's where you -and I are to live and that we may never see England again?" Her hand -tightened on her friend's and her dark eyes turned towards her. - -"Our home!" murmured Priscilla softly. "It looks bleak enough from -here. I hope we find it pleasant country inland." - -All over the _Mayflower_ men and women were pointing out the shore -to one another and calling it their home. They had come from England to -find a land where they might worship God in their own way, and had -sailed over the wide and stormy Western sea to found a new colony in -this new and almost unknown land. - -Columbus had had great faith when he held his course to the west in -spite of the protests of all his men, but these simple Pilgrims had no -less faith when they started out to make a new home in an unexplored -continent where other settlers had already met with famine, pestilence, -and savage redmen. They were a brave, deeply religious people, ready to -stand the hardships that lay in wait for them, confident that God was -with them and that they were doing what was right for them to do. This -was the spirit that had given them courage to face many difficulties, -for already they had met with troubles that would have daunted less -determined people. They had had two ships when they had sailed from -Southampton on the fifth of August, 1620, but at the very outset the -smaller vessel, the _Speedwell_, had sprung a leak, and had to put -back to port. A second time the two ships had started, but again the -_Speedwell_ proved unseaworthy, and they had returned to Plymouth. -This time there were disputes among the officers and some of the men -had left, but the _Mayflower_ had sailed at last on September sixth -with one hundred and two on board. Then they had met with bad weather, -so that instead of reaching the new world in the autumn as they had -planned, it was already November before they sighted the shore of -America. It took brave, persevering spirits to face the odds that -stood in front of them. - -Presently a young man came up to the two girls. "We're farther north -than we thought to land," said he. "The Dutch settlements lie to the -south. But they've decided to try this place now we're here, and by -night some may set foot on shore." - -"Do you think we can go in the first boat, John?" asked Mary Chilton -eagerly. - -John Alden shook his head. "Only a few of the men are to land with -Miles Standish. They're to explore and come back to report. There may -be Indians settled about here." - -"I wish I were a man," sighed Mary. - -"There'll be plenty for girls to do once we're ashore," answered John. - -"We've waited a month," put in Priscilla. "I guess we can wait a few -days more to land." - -John Alden moved away to examine his matchlock gun for the hundredth -time, and the two girls, who were close friends, tried to wait as -patiently as they could while the _Mayflower_ drew in towards shore. -They went down to the cabin for their simple dinner and then returned -on deck. Now the land stretched before them in a clear line, a low, -barren shore that looked of little promise. The chill November day made -the country seem most inhospitable, and many on board were already -homesick for the green fields and flowering meadows of England. Mary -Chilton and Priscilla Mullins moved about among the women and children, -cheering them with their own hopefulness. - -By nightfall the _Mayflower_ had rounded a point of the coast and -come into a small land-locked harbor, where it seemed as if a thousand -vessels might find safe anchorage. Here the shores appeared more -promising, and many eager eyes strained through the dusk to see what -the site of their future home might be like. It was too dark to send -explorers ashore, so the _Mayflower_ dropped anchor, and the Pilgrims -prepared to go to bed. Before they slept they gathered in the cabin and -with bent heads listened to John Carver give thanks to God that they -had been brought safely across the sea and in sight of their promised -land. - -Next day Priscilla and Mary watched Captain Miles Standish and a score -of men lower the shallop and set out towards shore. John Alden smiled -up at the girls as they hung over the rail, and they waved their -kerchiefs to him and to the ruddy-faced Captain Standish who stood up -in the bow to direct the shallop's course. Then they had to wait as -patiently as they could to learn what the explorers might report. - -Standish's party spent two days exploring the land about the harbor, -which formed the tip of what we now call Cape Cod. They found that the -land was fertile, as was shown by the fact that the Indians had cleared -much of the ground for planting and had left a magazine of corn. They -caught a distant glimpse of a few Indians, but the latter fled as soon -as they saw Captain Standish's men. - -When the explorers returned to the _Mayflower_ and made their report -the leaders of the Pilgrims were in two minds as to whether to settle -on this shore or to seek another site farther to the west. Those who -wanted to settle here spoke of the good harbor for ships, the fact that -the Indians had already tilled the soil, and the chances that they -might find good whale fishing off the coast. They added that they were -tired with the long sea voyage and unfit to go further, and that with -winter almost at hand exploration would be very difficult. But the -others objected that it would be unwise to settle permanently without -having looked a little farther to the west, and the larger number of -the leaders agreed with this view. Therefore on the next day the -shallop was sent out again with eighteen men on board to explore more -of the coast. Eight men stayed on the shallop while the rest landed and -went along the shore. Their journey lasted three days, and on the third -morning the land party had just started to eat breakfast by their -camp-fire when suddenly they heard a series of wild war-cries, and a -shower of arrows struck all about them. At the same time Indians in -ambush on the beach sent their arrows at the men in the small boat. -Captain Standish and his men seized their muskets and in a moment more -the Indians were flying before the fire that leaped from the muzzles. -Not one of the Pilgrims was wounded, and soon they were on their way -along the shore again, this time more careful to keep a watch for the -hidden redmen. Presently they embarked in the shallop and sailed across -the bay, reaching a place nearly opposite the point of Cape Cod. Here -they found fertile land, a good supply of water, and a protected -harbor. It seemed the ideal spot for which they had been looking, and -they decided to make their new home here. The Indian name of this -place, Accomac, had already been changed to Plymouth, which it happened -was also the name of the English seaport from which the Pilgrims had -finally set sail. - -The people on board the _Mayflower_ eagerly hailed the returning -explorers. They were growing impatient at being kept on the ship when -the land stretched invitingly before them. Priscilla and Mary, with the -rest, heard Captain Standish tell of the place he had discovered, and -shortly afterward they themselves saw it from the vessel's deck. Now -all was excitement. The different families made ready to leave the ship -which had been their home for nearly seven weeks and set up their -household goods on shore. In the first boat load went Priscilla and -Mary Chilton, and Mary was the first woman to set foot on Plymouth -soil. The two girls looked about them, at the long beach, the cleared -corn land, and the high hill beyond with its commanding view over the -wide bay. Priscilla turned to her father. "How strange that this should -be our home!" said she. "And yet I feel almost a love for it already." - -"I pray you may, my daughter," he answered, "for it is like to be the -only home any of us are henceforth to know." - -If it had taken courage to face the perils of the sea it took scarcely -less to face those of the new land. It was already December and growing -more and more cold with each day. Their store of provisions was almost -gone, and there could be no harvest here until spring. Some of the -women and children were sick, and none knew how the Indians might look -upon their coming. But the little band of Pilgrims set to work with -stout hearts, determined to carry out the purpose on which they had -started. They chose John Carver Governor and Miles Standish Captain of -their troops, and set to work to build log houses for the winter's -shelter. - -Priscilla was strong and she helped her father in his work during that -long hard winter. There was plenty for all to do, but many had not the -strength to accomplish what was needed. There was a great deal of -illness and very little good food. The weather made it almost -impossible for the men to hunt or to find wild fruits, and they had -neglected to bring fishing-tackle with them. Their provisions were eked -out with shellfish, but it was hard to gather these in the cold water. -Other colonies in the new world had already been forced to give up -their homes in fear of starvation, but this band held on, although half -their number died, and at one time there were only seven who were not -sick. Fortunately the Indians gave them little trouble. One day one of -them walked into the village and spent the night there, showing -friendliness, although Captain Standish watched him closely, having -little faith in his pretensions. A day or two later he returned -bringing five others, and then there came another named Tis quantum, -who had once been taken as a prisoner to London, and who understood -something of the strange white people and their ways. With his aid a -treaty was made with Massasoit, the chief of the Indians in that part -of the country, and each side agreed to live in harmony and concord -with the other. Many of the Indians already had a superstitious fear of -the men from across the sea, not only on account of their wonderful -"fire-tubes" but for another reason. Some Indians had a few years -before captured a French trading-ship, and killed all the crew but -five, whom they kept as prisoners. One of these had warned the redmen -that the God of the white people would not let these wrongs go without -some punishment, and very soon afterward pestilence had broken out on -the coast and killed many of the Indians who lived there. Those who -survived recalled the Frenchman's words and believed that pestilence -was a weapon like the "fire-tube" which the white men kept in their -camps to use against their enemies. Therefore they were very careful -how they treated these new arrivals who had settled at Accomac. - -But if the winter was hard and starvation stared them in the face and -sickness was rife in Plymouth the Pilgrims worked on, confident that -they were doing the will of God. This was the spirit of young as well -as of old, and the thought that must often have cheered Priscilla as -she looked from the door of the rude log-cabin over leagues of snow to -a lowering sky. But there were bright hours even in that first winter. -Sometimes Captain Standish or John Alden or others of the men would -bring logs of red cedar from the near-by forest to the Mullins cottage -and pile them on the hearth. Then they would have a great fire and all -the family would gather round it, and neighbors, seeing the smoke, -would come through the path cut in the deep snow to the Mullins door -and join in the warmth and the stories at the hearth. Many a day -Priscilla and Mary spent at the spinning-wheel, talking of old -play-mates in England while their feet kept the wheels going and the -carded wool piled up about them on the floor. At other times, when the -weather was clearer, they would go down to the beach and walk its -length until they came to a great rock. There they would sit and talk -of what they would do when summer came and the sea should be calm and -the woods full of wild flowers. Sometimes they would sing, for both -girls had good voices, sending the words of the old hymns of the -Pilgrims far out across the breakers. Slowly the winter passed and -Priscilla had her first taste of spring in New England. - -Hope sprang up fresh in the hearts of these Pilgrims as they saw the -snows melt and the days grow longer. They began to build bigger and -stronger houses and to prepare the fields for crops. Whenever they -could be spared from home Priscilla and Mary and the few other girls in -the village went out to the woods. There the trees were putting forth -their buds, and one day they came upon a fragrant rose-colored flower -which they had never seen before and which they named the Mayflower. -Soon the woods were full of them, and the girls gathered armfuls to -take back to their log homes. Beyond the circle of green woods they -found many ponds and on their banks another white and red flower called -the azalea, and in the water were wide lily pads and still farther -beyond bushes of the soft snowy pink-hued laurel. In the evenings they -would climb to the hill back of Plymouth and, seated there, look over -the tiny gathering of houses to the open bay where the light high up in -the rigging of the _Mayflower_ shone like a planet low down in the -sky. There they would talk of England, and of how by this time the -hawthorne must be in bloom and the hedgerows all in blossom and the -small stone churches mantled in ivy and the lark singing as he soared -above the tower. But although they talked much about England, they were -already very fond of their new home, and when they heard that the -_Mayflower_ was to sail back to England they did not say that they -would like to sail on her. - -The _Mayflower_ left in the early spring and at nearly the same time -John Carver, the first Governor, died. The settlers chose William -Bradford Governor in his place. Building and farming was now -progressing rapidly and the town began to take definite shape. It stood -on rising ground only a short distance from the beach. Two streets -crossed one another and where they met stood the Governor's house with -an open common in front of it. Four cannon were placed in the common, -one pointing down each of the four streets. A little above the town -they built a big house, which was used as a church, as a public -storehouse for provisions, and also as a fort. Here were more cannon, -and here the settlers gathered with their matchlocks whenever there was -an alarm of Indians. The settlers' dwelling-houses were simply big log -huts, each standing in its own enclosed piece of ground. Round the -whole settlement ran a heavy palisade, open in front towards the ocean, -but guarded on the other three sides by gates. Beyond the palisade lay -the farming land, divided into many small patches of corn fields. The -whole village was like one big family, all equally concerned in the -common lot. - -The men of Plymouth were more fortunate in their dealings with the -Indians than those of Virginia had been. At the very start they had won -Massasoit, chief of the Pokanokets, to their side, and now they had a -chance to strengthen that tie. Word came to Governor Bradford that the -Indian chief was very ill and that his native doctors could do nothing -for him. The Governor sent Edward Winslow to the chief, and he, knowing -far more of medicine than the Indians did, was able to cure Massasoit -in a short time. The chief was very grateful and vowed that if ever the -men of Plymouth should need his aid he would come instantly with all -his braves to help them. But other chiefs were not so friendly, and -soon after Canonicus, chief of the Narragansetts, a tribe that was -always warring with the Pokanokets, took offense at the alliance -between his enemies and the white men. He sent a messenger to Governor -Bradford, carrying a bundle of arrows wrapped in a rattlesnake's skin. -An Indian who happened to be in Plymouth told the Governor that the -message meant hostility on the part of the Narragansetts. The Governor -threw away the bundle of arrows and sent the skin back filled with -powder and balls. This threat from the settlers frightened Canonicus -and he would not take the war-path against them. Realizing that they -were not to be dismayed, he sent other messengers to treat with them, -and arranged to trade with them in corn and furs. - -So far Priscilla's life had been much like that of the other girls of -Plymouth, patient, enduring, brave, but with few adventures except such -as fell to the whole colony of Pilgrims. Now her life became more -dramatic. The valiant, vigilant captain of the colony, Miles Standish, -wanted her to be his wife. - -Miles Standish was not by nature like the men who had crossed the sea -with him to find a home. He was a soldier first and foremost, a man who -had quarreled with his family in England and gone forth to seek his -fortune with his sword. He had been in many battles, he had married, -and at last, hearing of the Pilgrims' plans to sail for America he had -decided to throw in his lot with theirs. They had made him their -captain and he had proved himself a good one, and he had become one of -the leading men, and one of the most popular in Plymouth. But the -weather was too severe for his fair English wife Rose, and she had died -soon after they landed. A year later he found that he had lost his -adventurous soldier's heart to the pretty Priscilla Mullins. - -Captain Standish knew that he was readier with sword and musket than -with the words to win a young girl's love. He was much perplexed as to -what he should do until he thought of his friend John Alden, who was -quick of wit, and ready of tongue and pen, and who had before now -written many a letter for the Captain. So he went to John Alden and -begged him in the name of their friendship to call upon Mr. Mullins and -ask him if he would give his daughter's hand to the Captain, and if he -agreed then to plead his cause with Priscilla. - -John and Priscilla had been brought up together and were close friends, -and when the Captain made his request of John the youth discovered that -he himself was in love with Priscilla. But he felt in honor bound to do -what the Captain asked of him, and so, with a heavy heart he went to -the Mullins house. Priscilla's father listened while John asked if -Miles Standish might have his consent to marry his daughter, and at the -end willingly agreed. Then John went to the room where the girl sat at -her spinning-wheel, and even as he entered his foot faltered and he -turned very pale. With his eyes bent on the floor and his voice -hesitating he told her that he came from Captain Standish to ask if she -would marry him. Priscilla was astonished; the Captain was older than -she and had been so busy that she had seen little of him. John Alden -had been her comrade and she cared more for him than she had ever dared -admit to herself. He looked so pale and distressed as he stood there -before her that she wondered what might be the cause. Then the reason -flashed upon her. With downcast eyes and a voice that was only a -whisper she spoke to him. "Why don't you speak for yourself, John?" was -what he heard her say. - -John wondered if he could have understood aright. Then she looked up at -him and he knew that it was him she loved and that she had no room for -Standish in her heart. So, still trembling, he asked her to marry him -instead of Standish, and she said she would. But even in his joy John -feared that he had proved a traitor to his friend. - -Dark days followed for the lovers. John had to give his message to the -Captain, and it was no easy telling. For days he carried with him the -feeling of treachery, and he spent many nights walking on the shore, -distrustful of himself and of the love that had come to him in such -fashion. Priscilla was scarcely happier, for the same thought was with -her, and she knew it was she who had put the words into John Alden's -mouth. Then came news that Captain Standish had been sent on an -expedition against the Indians, and both Priscilla and John feared that -in a moment of rashness over his disappointment he might expose himself -recklessly in battle, and so the colony lose its best guardian and -captain. - - [Illustration: JOHN ALDEN AND PRISCILLA - _By Boughton_] - -But Miles Standish was no coward and he set out on his expedition -determined to fight when he must but not to run into needless dangers. -A three days' march brought him to the Indian encampment, but it seemed -as peaceful as the town that he had left. Women were at work in the -fields and about the tents, but there were no braves in sight. After a -short détour he discovered them, their bodies covered with war paint, -seated about a fire, handing a smoking pipe from one to another. One of -them caught the glint of sun on the Captain's armor and spoke to the -others, and then two rose and came towards Standish. They spoke -peacefully, saying that they wanted to be friends with the white men, -and would like to trade skins and corn for knives and muskets and the -mysterious powder the white men used in their "fire-tubes." Standish -offered them blankets but refused to give them arms or powder. Then -their manner changed very quickly, and pointing to the knives at their -belts they began to tell the white men what they would do to their -settlement unless they would come to terms. In the meantime the wary -Captain had noted how the other Indians had left the fire and were -creeping up towards him on all sides, fixing arrows to their bowstrings -as they came, but pretending that they were only going back to their -tents. He waited, like a tiger ready to spring, while the chief worked -himself up into a passion with his threats. Suddenly the chief drew his -knife and raised it high, giving the war-cry. At the same instant -Standish sprang forward, and before the Indian's knife could fall he -had plunged his own into the redman's breast. The chief fell, and -instantly a storm of arrows swept about Standish and his men and the -braves leaped forward, crying their wild war-whoops. The white men -turned back to back, and, leveling their muskets, sent a deadly fire at -the advancing braves. The latter, always frightened at this mysterious -sight and sound, turned and fled, leaving their chief, Wattawamat, dead -in front of Standish. Then the Captain cut off the head of the Indian -and carried it back with him to Plymouth, where it was stuck on a pike -from the roof of the fort as a warning to other warring redmen. Such -acts were part of the customs of those times, and the elders of -Plymouth approved of the Captain's deed, but one elder, named John -Robinson, who was the religious leader of them all, cried out as he -passed the fort, "Oh, that he had converted some before he killed any!" - -If Miles Standish had flared up in anger when John Alden first told him -the result of his suit of Priscilla that anger dropped as quickly as it -rose. The Captain had many other matters to think about, what with the -constant fear of attack from restless Indians, and he was away from -Plymouth almost as much as he was there. So the lovers lost the feeling -that they had not been fair to him, and let it be known through -Plymouth that they were to marry. - -Meanwhile the Pilgrim village was prospering. Food was plentiful, for -the first harvest had been good, and the hunters had brought in deer -and the fishing-boats returned well-laden from the sea. Therefore the -Governor ordered a day of thanksgiving late in the autumn, and when -that day came the people went to the fortress-church on the hill and -gave thanks to God that He had allowed them to endure and prosper in -their new home. Later in the day they feasted, and never had Plymouth -seen such a plentiful repast. Word of the feast had been sent to some -of the neighboring Indians and ninety of them came and sat about the -board with the white men. That was the beginning of our Thanksgiving -Day. - -John Alden was busy building a new house for his bride. He could build -better now than the settlers had been able to do when they faced that -first winter. He chose his ground with care, and built a substantial -home, covering the roof with rushes, and filling the latticed windows -with panes of oiled paper, which let the light come through but not the -wind or rain. He dug a well and planted an orchard at the rear of the -house, and when the place was finished it was one of the finest in -Plymouth. In the spring Priscilla and John were married, their wedding -being one of the earliest in the colony, and Priscilla being the first -of the girls who had sailed on the _Mayflower_ to change her name. - -History does not tell us a great deal about this girl of the Pilgrims, -but we do know how much courage and faith and constancy was required of -the first settlers of New England. We picture Priscilla as the daughter -of such people, devout, simple, and from force of the rude life about -her growing more and more self-reliant from the day when Mary Chilton -and she first set foot on Plymouth Rock. History does not tell us of -Priscilla's wooing, but the romantic story has been so wonderfully put -in poetry by Longfellow that when we hear Priscilla Alden mentioned we -think first of all of "The Courtship of Miles Standish." It is a story -which ought to be true, if it is not. - -We know that Captain Standish and John Alden were friends at a later -time, for when the Captain married his second wife he built his house -over on Duxbury Hill, near where John Alden's stood, and his son -married the daughter of John and Priscilla. So the blunt, brave Captain -did not die of a broken heart. - -Such is the story of this girl of the Pilgrims and of the brave days -when the foundation stones of our land were being laid. - - - - -IX - -Catherine the Great - -The Girl of Stettin: 1729-1796 - - -"Come with me," whispered a small boy to a little girl who was -standing, looking rather lonely, in one of the long corridors of a -house in the North German town of Eutin. - -"Come along," he added, still in a whisper, and tiptoed down the hall. -The girl followed and saw him stop at a doorway and peep into the room -beyond. Apparently satisfied he entered, and she, her curiosity roused, -went into the room after him. - -It was a bare apartment, with walls once white but now gray, small -barred windows, a ceiling supported by rough timbers, and a wooden -floor, uneven and uncarpeted. On a bench at one end stood a large round -tub of water and from pegs in the wall hung caps and coats. It was the -place where the few soldiers who were supposed to guard the house -lounged when off duty, and used as a dressing-room. It was unoccupied -now, and the boy, still on tiptoe, ran across the bare floor to the tub -of water. - -Pulling some paper from his pocket the boy tore it into many pieces and -dropped three or four of them into the water. Then taking a stick that -lay on a bench he began to poke the papers. The girl stood beside him. -"See, Figchen," he whispered, "those are boats, sailing on the great -Baltic Sea. This one's heavy laden, see how she rocks. That's her port -over on the other side. Here comes a storm," and he stirred the water -with his stick and sent the paper boats tossing to the rim. - -"That's not much of a pond, Peter," said the girl disdainfully. "We've -one in Stettin twice that big with live fish in it, and when we want to -have a storm we throw a stone into it." - -But the little boy was too busy with his boats to listen to her. He -threw the rest of the papers into the tub and leaned so far over its -edge that he could see his fat cheeks and blue eyes mirrored in it. - -"Look, Figchen, look," he cried excitedly, "there's a whole war-fleet -going over to the other side." - -The girl, forgetting her disdain, bent over the rim and began to blow -down at the water. - -Before they knew it there were quick steps on the floor behind them and -a man had seized Peter by the collar and jerked him back from the tub. -"Didn't I tell you not to go near that water again?" the man demanded, -his face and voice showing his anger. "What do you think you are? -You're a soldier, and a soldier's first duty is to obey orders. For -this you go to your room and do without dinner to-day." - -The little boy stood with his back to the wall, looking much -frightened. "Oh, Herr Brummer----" he began. - -"Not a word," ordered the man. "You've heard what I've said." - -The girl had looked on in amazement. Now she took a step forward. -"You're a simpleton, Peter Ulric," she said. "Afraid of your tutor. Why -don't you send him away?" - -Herr Brummer turned as if he had noticed the girl for the first time. -He bowed, smiling sarcastically. "Ach so; it is the Princess Sophia of -Zerbst who speaks? And you would advise Prince Peter of Holstein to -disobey his tutor?" - -The girl's eyes met the man's defiantly. "I would," she answered. "At -home, in Stettin----" - -"Well, we're not in Stettin," broke in the man, turning back. "Go to -your room, boy, and stay there till I come for you. And if I find you -playing here again I'll make you kneel on dried peas till you can't -stand up." - -The boy, used to being treated in such fashion, went out of the -guard-room, his face surly and white. - -"As for you," said Herr Brummer to the girl, "the sooner you go home -the better. You'll find Peter Ulric a dull playmate." With that he -turned on his heel and followed the little Prince of Holstein, and heir -to the thrones of Russia and Sweden, from the room. - -Figchen, which was the nickname given to the Princess Sophia of Zerbst, -waited a moment and then went out into the garden at the rear of the -house. She was used to being left to her own devices, but in her home -town she could go out into the city squares and play with other -children, and here in Eutin she had been forbidden to leave the house -and its garden. She wished she were at home again, and could not -understand why her mother was so fond of traveling about to visit her -relations. She thought this particular court of Holstein the dullest of -them all, and little Peter Ulric the stupidest boy she had ever met. He -was stupid, there was no doubt of that, but no one had ever cared -enough about him to try and make him more intelligent. - -Children of rank had a dull time at the courts of the little German -duchies in those days. The Princess Figchen was better off than Peter -Ulric because she was a girl and did not have to be moulded into a -soldier, but she had little enough fun. Her father was very fond of -her, but he was a general in the army of Frederick the Great of -Prussia, and away from home most of the time. Her mother was vain and -capricious. The family were poor and only used the left wing of their -palace at Stettin. Here Figchen had three rooms, and her bedroom was -close to the bell-tower of the church, so that she was wakened early -every morning by a deafening peal of bells. She played in the streets -with the town children, none of whom called her "Your Highness," and -the children's mothers treated her just like any other little girl. - -Most of her time, however, she spent with her governess and teachers. -French was the fashion then and children were taught the language, the -manners, and the gallantry of Paris. The Princess was bright but -wilful, if she was interested she would learn quickly, if she was not -the teachers might storm and she would only laugh at them. Her -governess told her that her chin was too sharp, and that by sticking it -out she was always knocking against everybody she came across. Figchen -laughed and stuck her chin farther out. But in her own way she was fond -of her French governess and read a good many French books with her. - -Even though Figchen did like the girls of her own town better than -those she met elsewhere, her mother, who was restless and eager for -excitement, found Stettin very dull, and was continually traveling. She -had relatives in all the little German cities, and liked to visit them -at Hamburg, Brunswick, or Berlin, and hear the latest gossip. So -Figchen met most of the Grand Dukes and Duchesses of her time, and was -presented at Berlin to the powerful young Frederick the Great, who was -just beginning his remarkable career. This visiting also gave her -mother a chance to see the young Princes who might be eligible for her -daughter's hand, for it was the first concern of a young German -Princess to find a husband who would some day wear a crown. But Figchen -herself was not interested in these boys with long titles to their -names. Most of them seemed very stupid to her, much like Peter Ulric of -Holstein, taught to be a soldier instead of being taught to be a -gentleman. - -Then, suddenly, when this little Princess of Zerbst was twelve years -old, strange events occurred in Europe. To the northwest of her home -lay the mighty country of Russia, still almost savage, but of enormous -size and of unknown strength. Only a short time before Peter the Great -had been Czar of Russia and had built up a great Empire that -overshadowed the little German duchies that lay along its borders. One -of Peter's daughters had married the Duke of Holstein, and been the -mother of the small Peter Ulric. Another was the Princess Elizabeth, -who had not married. Peter the Czar had a half-brother Ivan, and Ivan's -granddaughter was ruling as regent in Russia for her little son named -Ivan. Then on December 9, 1741, the Princess Elizabeth, filled with her -great father's ambition, suddenly seized the throne, and threw the -regent and the little Czar Ivan into prison. The child's reign ended, -and the unscrupulous woman took the crown as the Empress Elizabeth. She -was strong and could hold it and that was all that counted in Russia -then. The Empress looked about for an heir and her eyes lighted on -Peter Ulric, the son of her sister. The regent in prison had always -called him "the little devil," because she was afraid he might some day -set aside her own Ivan. "The little devil" disappeared from his home -and reappeared at St. Petersburg, and all the world learned that -Elizabeth had proclaimed him the Grand Duke Peter, her adopted son and -heir to the crown she wore. Figchen heard the news and wondered how -such a stupid boy could ever be Czar of Russia. - -The Empress Elizabeth, like a fairy godmother, waved her wand again, -and this time it rested on Figchen herself. The Empress ordered the -little girl's portrait sent to her, despatched presents to her and to -her father and mother, and finally invited the Princess of Zerbst to -visit her in Moscow and to bring her daughter with her. The ambitious -mother knew what that meant. The Empress meant to marry Figchen to the -Grand Duke Peter. That was a more dazzling destiny than she had ever -dreamed of. - -Mother and daughter started out for Moscow. They were poor and did not -need many boxes to carry their wardrobe. Traveling was hard, and, it -being January, the cold was so bitter they had to wear masks to protect -their faces. There were no hotels and they had to stay at -posting-houses, poor shacks where the landlord's family and his animals -often slept under the same roof. There was no snow but the four -carriages in which the Princess and her suite traveled were so heavy -they required twenty-four horses to pull them. Sledges were fastened to -the backs of the carriages to be used later, and these made their -progress slower. - -But when they crossed the frontier to Russia everything changed. Troops -met them, with flags flying and drums beating. Gallant officers joined -them and paid them compliments. Castles opened to them and the ladies, -shining with diamonds and silks, quite overwhelmed the simple German -Princess and her daughter. When they reached St. Petersburg ladies of -the court were ready to stock their wardrobes with magnificent -toilettes. The travelers were glad of that, for they knew their own -clothes would look shabby enough in the presence of an Empress who was -said to have 15,000 silk dresses and no less than 5,000 pairs of shoes. - -When they left St. Petersburg on their way to Moscow the Princess and -Figchen traveled in a magnificent sleigh, built like a great couch with -curtains of scarlet and gold, and lined inside with sable. The ladies -reclined on what was really a feather bed, with coverings of satin and -fur, and supported on springs so that the sleigh could pass over the -roughest road without disturbing the passengers inside. Here they lay -and looked out through the windows at the snowy barren country all -about them. Figchen was impressed. Used as she was to the simplicity of -the little German duchy, she could not help wondering at so much -extravagance and luxury, or thrilling at the sight of the great Cossack -soldiers and the Imperial grenadiers who rode as her escort. So she -began to realize the might of this great northern country. - -The Empress Elizabeth welcomed them warmly at her palace in Moscow, and -at once Figchen found herself surrounded by fawning courtiers, -ambitious women, and all the pomp and ceremony of a court. Generals and -statesmen struggled to kiss her hand, ladies to compliment her on her -complexion, for they all knew now that the little German maiden was to -marry their Grand Duke Peter. She knew it now also, but although she -remembered how stupid and timid he had seemed at Eutin, she made no -objection, because her eyes were dazzled with the wonders of this new -life. - -Peter Ulric had not improved since Figchen had last seen him. Herr -Brummer's iron hand no longer held him in check, and he had run -absolutely wild. His health was ruined, he was dissipated beyond -belief, cowardly, and as ignorant as his poorest soldier. He kissed -Figchen's hand, and said he was glad to see her, and then left her, to -drink himself stupid with vodka. The marriage promised to be about as -tragic as it well could be. But Figchen had more interesting things to -think about than Peter Ulric. She had to study a new religion, so that -she might enter the Russian Church, she had to have prepared a great -trousseau, and she had to try and learn in a short time some of the -things she had refused to learn at Stettin. Then she fell ill, and was -sick for days, while her mother and the Russian doctors struggled as to -the best way to cure her. The doctors advised blood-letting but the -Princess was very much opposed to it. They agreed to refer the matter -to the Empress, and found that she had gone on a five days' visit to a -distant convent where she had shut herself up in one of her strange -spasms of religion. Finally she appeared and ordered the blood-letting. -Poor Figchen suffered, but recovered. When she regained consciousness -she found herself in the arms of the Empress, and in her hand a gift of -a diamond necklace and a pair of earrings worth 20,000 roubles. Figchen -began to realize that the Empress Elizabeth was a very singular person. - -As soon as she was well again she finished making ready to enter the -Russian Church, and in June, 1744, when she was fifteen, she made her -new vows. She was a handsome girl, and her youth, beauty, and modest -manner made a charming picture as she entered the imperial chapel. She -wore what was called an "Adrienne" robe of red cloth of Tours, laced -with cords of silver, and about her unpowdered hair was bound a simple -white fillet. Her voice did not tremble and she did not forget a word -of the long Russian creed. Then the new name of Catherine was added to -her other names and it was announced that henceforth that would be her -official title. The next day she was betrothed to Peter Ulric. - -Peter's health was so bad that the wedding had to be put off from one -date to another, but finally, in August, 1745, when Peter was -seventeen, and Catherine sixteen, they were married with the greatest -pomp and ceremony. Figchen became a Grand Duchess and wife to the next -Czar of Russia, and her mother went home to Stettin and left the girl, -surrounded by her own court, to fight her own battles. - -No one had ever cared very much for Figchen, her father and mother had -let her grow up as she would, and the only thing that was asked of her -was that she should marry the prince they might pick out for her. That -was her idea of duty, and that she had done. She had seen very little -kindness, or consideration for others, or happy home life in any of the -German courts where she spent her childhood. She had seen men trained -to be soldiers and gamblers and drunkards, and women who were vain and -spiteful and ambitious. In Russia she found things even worse than they -had been at home. The Empress was a tyrant who had put the rightful -Czar, a little boy, and his mother, in a distant prison, and planned to -keep them there all their lives. Figchen's husband cared nothing for -her, and soon appeared to have forgotten that she existed. If she had -disliked him when he was a boy she despised him now that he was a young -man. All around her were conspirators, and slanderers, and spies. There -seemed only one thing left to her, ambition, tremendous ambition, such -as had made Peter the Great and Elizabeth mighty conquerors and rulers -of Russia. So, cut off from all other dreams, Catherine began to dream -of that, and, as time went on, she made plans for the future. - -Strange to say, although Figchen had always seemed a very quiet, docile -girl, Catherine proved a very strong, determined woman. She kept her -eye on what was happening in Russia, and she laid her plans. Peter had -showed he cared nothing for her, and she cared nothing for him. More -than that she knew that he would make the worst possible Emperor of -Russia, and she thought she knew some one who would grace the throne -much better. - -The Empress Elizabeth died at a time when the Grand Duke Peter was away -from the capital. He heard the news and started for St. Petersburg, but -had not gone far when couriers brought him tidings that Catherine had -seized the throne, proclaimed herself Czarina, and meant to rule alone. -So she had. Dressed in the uniform of a general she had appeared before -the troops, and announced that she was their new commander. Those rough -soldiers knew that she was strong and that Peter was weak, and they put -the care of their country in her hands. So the Empress Catherine II -succeeded the Empress Elizabeth. - - [Illustration: CATHERINE THE GREAT - _From a painting by Rosselin_] - -Peter, amazed, indignant, terrified, had no more chance now than he had -had in the guard-room when Herr Brummer found him sailing boats. He was -only a pawn. But as long as he lived he might make trouble. Therefore -one night conspirators seized him and assassinated him, just as had -often been done to Russian rulers before. History does not say if -Catherine knew of the conspiracy in advance, but does say that she shed -few tears over his fate. - -Events proved that Catherine knew her strength. She became one of the -great sovereigns of Europe, a far-seeing statesman, a brilliant -commander of her armies. She was relentless, but she was fearless as -well, and a century which had given the title of Great to Peter the -First, and to the warrior Frederick of Prussia, paid the same tribute -to her. She had only been taught the value of power in her girlhood, -and that was all she came to care for later. The wonder of it is that -the little Figchen who used to play with the town children in the -streets of Stettin should have become the masterful Catherine the -Great. - - - - -X - -Fanny Burney - -The Girl of London: 1752-1840 - - -A girl sat at a desk in a small third-story room of Dr. Charles -Burney's house in London, writing as rapidly as her quill-pen could -travel over the paper. It was a December afternoon, and the light was -not very bright, so that she had to lean far forward until the end of -her nose almost touched the tip of her pen. Now and then a smile would -cross her lips or she would stop a moment to reread a sentence or two -and nod her head, but for the most part she kept steadily on, very much -in earnest in what she was doing. On one corner of the desk lay a pile -of finished manuscript, showing that she must have been at this work -for many days. As a matter of fact she had come up to this small spare -room every afternoon for a month and written until it was too dark for -her to see. - -Presently another girl came tiptoeing up the stairs, paused a moment at -the door, and then stole quietly into the room. Without a word she -crossed over to an old sofa on the other side of the room, and sat down -upon it. The writer went on driving her quill-pen across the paper. -Some five minutes later the quill stuck and sent a shower of ink-blots -in all directions. "There, my pen's stubbed its toe again," said the -writer, sitting up straight. "I'd better let it rest itself a while." - -"Oh, Fanny," exclaimed the girl on the sofa, "do tell me what's -happening to dear Caroline Evelyn now." - -The authoress laid down her pen and tilted back in her chair. "The -funniest things have been happening to her lately, Susan. I laughed -until I cried. A young man named Lord Farringfield fell in love with -her. He was very good-looking, with light curly hair, and she thought -she liked him very much. He made her an offer of marriage in her -father's garden, when suddenly a wind came up and blew off his wig. He -looked so funny without any hair that all she could think of to say was -to offer him her handkerchief to cover his head, and that put him out -so that he jumped up from his knees and stalked away. Later the -gardener found the wig on the bough of an apple tree, but Caroline -didn't dare send it to its owner and kept it on a little stand in her -room to remind her of her first offer of marriage. Let me read it to -you." - -"Oh, do, Fanny," urged the younger sister. - -The writer delved into the pile of papers and pulled out several. Then, -with a preliminary chuckle, she began to read. At first she went -smoothly enough, but after a while she began to laugh, and finally she -had to stop and dry her eyes with a handkerchief. "He did look so -ridiculous," she said. "Can't you see him there, saying, 'Oh, my -adorable Caroline, wilt thou----' when whist! he claps his hands to his -head, but his beautiful curls have gone?" - -"Indeed I can," replied Susan, who was hugging herself and rocking on -the sofa with appreciation. "However can you do it, Fanny? It seems to -me each person in the story is funnier than the last." - -"They don't start out funny," said the writer, "but after they've -talked a little or walked about they begin to do funny things. Of -course the hero and Caroline herself are quite serious. It's getting to -be a big book. Just look." She opened a drawer of the desk and produced -another pile of papers and laid them on top of those already on the -table. "It's almost a full-sized novel now." - -"It's beautiful," said Susan. "I don't know any book that's ever made -me laugh and cry so much." - -"Do you really think it's good?" Fanny turned about so as to face her -sister. "I'll tell you something, Susan. I just had to write it. I -couldn't help doing it, no matter how hard I tried." - -"It's wonderful," continued the admiring Susan. - -"But you mustn't tell. You must never tell," besought Fanny. "I'd be so -ashamed of myself, and just think what father might have to say to me -about it!" She swung about to the desk and rested her head in her hands -as though to contemplate the overwhelming things Dr. Burney might be -called upon to say should he discover her offense. Then impulsively she -stretched out her hands and clasped the manuscript. "Oh, I love it, I -love every line I've written there." - -Some one else had been climbing the flight of stairs to the third -story, and now came into the room. It was Mrs. Burney, the stepmother -of Fanny and Susan. She went over to the desk and looked at the pile of -written sheets before Fanny could turn them over or hide them in the -drawer. "So this is what you've been about, is it?" said she, not -unkindly, but rather in an amused tone. "I've wondered where you went -when you stole away from the rest of the family every afternoon. Your -father said you wanted to study, but I told him I didn't approve of -young ladies creeping out of sight to pore over books. So you've been -writing a story surreptitiously? Take my word for it, Fanny, writing -books has gone out of fashion." - -"I know it," said Fanny, "but I couldn't help it. I'd much rather do -this than practice on the harpsichord." - -"But music is a polite accomplishment, my dear, whereas scribbling is -quite the reverse." - -"Fanny's isn't scribbling," protested Susan. "It's wonderful. It really -is, mother. It's as good as anything down-stairs in father's library. -Let her read some of it to you." - -"No, thank you, Susan. I can understand some parents letting their -children run wild and become novel-writers, but not Dr. Burney. You -must remember you have a position in society to think about, my dears." - -"I know," agreed Fanny guiltily. - -"What would the world say," continued Mrs. Burney, "if it should learn -that Dr. Burney's daughter Frances had composed a novel!" - -"Father writes books," suggested Susan. - -"Yes, but on the subject of music. It's quite another thing to compose -a treatise showing learning. Fanny's writings, if I mistake not, are -merely idle inventions, the stories of events that never happened to -people who never lived." - -"Yes, they are," agreed the ashamed Fanny. "I make them up out of my -head as I go along." - -"But they're quite as interesting as the things that do happen to real -people," argued the devoted Susan. "More interesting, I think. I don't -know any real person who interests me as much as Caroline in Fanny's -story." - -Mrs. Burney smiled. She had no wish to be harsh, but she had very -decided ideas as to what was and what was not proper for young ladies -to do. She was a bustling, sociable person, and she considered that -Fanny was altogether too shy and reserved. She wanted to make her more -like her other sisters, Esther and Charlotte, both of whom were very -popular with the many visitors who came to see the celebrated Dr. -Burney. - -"It's for your own good," she said finally. "I shan't tell your father, -but I know he wouldn't approve of your spending your time in this way." - -"I know," said Fanny slowly. "I know what people think of a young woman -who writes. I oughtn't to do it, but the temptation was too strong for -me. I'll give it up, mother, and not steal off here by myself. I'll try -to be more the way you and father want me." - -"That's the right spirit, Fanny. You know we're all very proud of you -anyway." Stooping down Mrs. Burney kissed her stepdaughter, and then -left the sisters alone. - -For some time there was silence while Fanny stared at the big pile of -closely written sheets which lay in front of her and Susan looked at -her sister. Then with a sigh the older girl rose and gathered the -papers in her arms. "Mother is right. It is wrong of me," said she. -"Would you mind, Susan, coming down into the yard with me?" - -"What are you going to do, Fanny?" asked her sister in alarm. - -"I've made up my mind what's best to be done, and I'm going to do it. -Come down-stairs, please." - -Fanny led the way with the papers, and Susan came after her. They went -down the three flights, through a hall, and out into a paved court at -the rear of the house. - -"Will you watch them a minute, please?" said Fanny, as she laid the -papers on the bricks. - -She went indoors and soon was back again, with some sticks of wood, -some straw, and a lighted taper in her hand. She laid the sticks -together, stuffed some straw in among them, and then placed the pile of -papers on top. - -"Oh, Fanny," cried her sister, "you're not going to burn up all the -story? Oh, poor Caroline! Don't do it, Fanny; think how long it took to -write it and how good it is!" - -"I must," said Fanny, very decidedly. - -"Oh, please, please don't! It's almost like murder. It's a shame, -Fanny, it is, it's a terrible shame!" - -"It hurts me most," said Fanny, "but it's the only way to settle -Caroline once for all." With a very grim face she held the taper to the -straw until it caught fire. In a moment a page of the manuscript was -curling up in flames. - -"Oh, Fanny, Fanny!" cried Susan, tears coming to her eyes. She looked -beseechingly at her sister, but the latter's purpose was inflexible. A -few minutes more and the papers were all burning brightly. - -The two girls stood there until the fire had burnt itself out, and then -turned to each other. Tears stood in Fanny's eyes and also in those of -the sympathetic Susan. "Poor Caroline Evelyn," sighed Fanny, "I'm going -to be ever and ever so lonely without her." - -Susan slipped her arm about her sister's waist, and they went indoors -to get ready for supper. The young authoress was very quiet when the -family met at table a little later, and had very little appetite, but -the family were quite used to Fanny's reserve, and none of them thought -anything about it except the faithful Susan, who threw tender -reproachful glances across the table at Fanny from time to time. - -The father of these girls, Dr. Charles Burney, was the fashionable -music-master of the day in London. He had made a great success, and had -so many pupils that he had to begin his round of lessons as early as -seven o'clock in the morning, and often was not through with them until -eleven at night. Many a time he dined in a hackney coach on sandwiches -and a glass of sherry and water as he drove from one house to another. -Among his friends were all sorts of people, musicians, actors, -scholars, famous beaux and belles, and as he was most hospitable his -children grew up familiar with many different types of men and women of -the great world of London. The other girls and the boys were like their -father in taking part in all the entertainments that went on, but -Fanny, the second daughter, although she was admitted to be very -bright, was unusually quiet and retiring. Her teacher called her "the -silent, observant Miss Fanny," and that described her well, because she -was always watching the people about her, and remembering their -peculiar tricks of manner and speech. - -But she had a mind of her own and could speak up on occasion. When she -was ten years old her father lived in a house on Poland Street, next -door to a wig-maker, who supplied perukes to the judges and lawyers of -London. The children of the wig-maker and the Burney children played -together in a little garden behind the former's house, and one day they -went into the wig-maker's house, and each put on one of the fine wigs -he had for sale. Then they began to play in the garden until one of the -perukes, which was very fine and worth over ten guineas, fell into a -tub of water and lost all its curl. The wig-maker came out, fished out -the peruke, and declared it was entirely ruined. With that he spoke -very angrily to his children, when suddenly the quiet Fanny stepped -forth, and with the manner of an old lady said, "What is the use of -talking so much about an accident? The wig is wet, to be sure, and it -was a very good wig, but words will do no good, because, sir, what's -done can't be undone." The wig-maker listened in great surprise, and -then made Fanny a little bow. "Miss Burney speaks with the wisdom of -ages," he said, and without another word went into the house. - -Among all their father's friends the Burney children thought there was -no one quite so amusing as the great actor David Garrick. He would drop -in at all hours of the day, and always playing some new part. Sometimes -he would sit still and listen to Dr. Burney talk on the history of -music, and gradually his face and manner would change until the -children could scarcely believe he was the same man who had entered the -room a short time before. He would seem to become an old crafty man -before their very eyes, or a villain from the slums of London, or a -Spanish grandee for the first time in England. Sometimes he would -appear at the house in disguise and give a new name to the maid and -appear in the dining-room as a stranger to the family. Once he arrived -at the door in an old, ill-fitting wig and shabby clothes and the -servant refused to admit him, taking him for a beggar. "Egad, child," -he said to the maid, "you don't guess whom you have the happiness to -see! Do you know that I am one of the first geniuses of the age? You -would faint away upon the spot if you could only imagine who I am!" The -maid, very much startled, let him pass, and he shambled into the house, -again pretending to be a beggar. The children were always delighted to -have him come, and Fanny in particular, because she had a talent for -mimicking people herself, and she liked to study him. He often sent -them tickets to see him act at Drury Lane Theatre, and there they saw -their friend play the greatest rôles of the English stage as no actor -had ever played them before. - -Fanny's particular friend was a Mr. Samuel Crisp, a curious man who had -once been very popular in London, but had retired to a lonely life in -the country at a place called Chesington Hall. He was very fond of the -Burneys and often had them visit him at his country home. Fanny called -him "her dearest daddy," and loved to walk across the meadows with him, -and tell him of the curious people she had met at her father's house in -town. He understood her better than any one else, and it was to him -that she confided the story of how she had burned the manuscript of her -novel. "It was very hard, Daddy," she said. "I know I oughtn't to want -to keep on scribbling, but somehow I can't help it. I think of so many -things, and I want to make them real, and the only way is to put them -down on paper. People tell me young ladies shouldn't be writing -stories, that it's not genteel, but how can I help myself?" - -"You can tell them to me, Fanny, and no one shall ever know you made -them up." - -So she unburdened her heart to him, told him of her friend Caroline -Evelyn, the dear child of her brain, of the suitors that young lady -had, and how she treated them, and of her elopement to Gretna Green, -and of the funny people she was continually meeting. Mr. Crisp listened -and smiled, surprised at the girl's powers of description and humor. -Finally he said to her, "It seems to me, Fanny, that young lady's -career is more interesting to you than your own." - -"So it is," she answered. "I think more about her than about any one -else." - -"Then," said Mr. Crisp, "in spite of your mother's good advice and your -own judgment I predict that Caroline rises in time from the flames." - -"Do you think so, Daddy? Oh, if she only might! It's well there's no -paper and ink here or I'd begin her over again right on the spot." - -Mr. Crisp was right in his prediction. That summer the Burneys went to -the little town of King's Lynn, where Fanny had been born. There Fanny -shut herself up in a summer-house which was called "The Cabin," and -began to rewrite her book. She seized upon every scrap of white paper -that she could find and bore it off with her. She worked secretly, -inventing numberless excuses for the hours she spent by herself. -Gradually the story took shape again, changed in many ways from its -first telling, and with the heroine rechristened Evelina. - -Meantime Dr. Burney had started to prepare his great History of Music, -and asked the help of his daughters to copy it for him. Fanny wrote the -best hand and was the most reliable, so her father made her his chief -secretary, and day after day she worked with him, having to postpone -her own book from week to week. But each time she came back to it more -ardently and each time her pen flew faster as she sat at her table in -the little summer-house. At last she told Susan about it, and Susan was -delighted, and when Fanny read some of it to her she declared that it -was a thousand times better than the story of Caroline had been. - -When her father's History of Music appeared in print it made a great -success, and this stirred the youthful Fanny with the desire to see -what London would think of "Evelina." She was determined, however, to -keep its authorship unknown, and so she carefully recopied the -manuscript in an assumed handwriting in order that no publisher or -printer who had seen her handwriting in any of the manuscripts she had -copied for her father should recognize the same hand in this. But -"Evelina" had grown to be a very long novel, and by the time she had -copied out two volumes of it she grew tired, and so she wrote a letter, -without any signature, to a publisher, offering to send him the -completed part of her novel at once, and the rest of it during the next -year. This publisher replied that he would not consider the book unless -he were told the author's name. Fanny showed the letter to Susan, and -they talked it over, but decided that she ought not to send her name. -She then wrote to another publisher, making the same offer as she had -made to the first. He said he would like to see the manuscript. -Thereupon Fanny decided to take her brother Charles into the secret and -have him carry the work to the publisher. Charles agreed, and Fanny and -Susan muffled him up in a greatcoat so that he looked much older than -he was, and sent him off. He was not recognized, and when he called -later for an answer he was told that the publisher was pleased with the -book, but could not agree to print it until he should receive the whole -story. That discouraged Fanny, and she let the book lie by for some -time, but finally plucked up courage, and copied out the third volume. - -In the meantime Fanny began to wonder if it would be fair for her to -publish a novel without telling her father, and she decided she ought -to go to him. She caught him just as he was leaving home on a trip, and -said, with many blushes and much confusion, that she had written a -little story and wanted to have it printed without giving her name. She -added that she would not bother him with the manuscript in any way and -begged that he wouldn't ask to see it. The Doctor was very much amused -as well as surprised, and he told her to go ahead and see what would -come of the story. - -Better satisfied now that she had her father's consent Fanny sent the -third volume to the publisher, who accepted the book and paid her -twenty pounds for it. - - [Illustration: FANNY BURNEY] - -At length "Evelina" was published. The first Fanny knew of it was when -her stepmother opened a paper one morning at the breakfast table and -read aloud an advertisement announcing the appearance of a new novel -entitled "Evelina; or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World." Susan -smiled across the table at Fanny, and Charles winked at her, but she -sat very still, her cheeks a fiery red. They did not give her secret -away to the rest of the family, nor mention who the author was to any -of their friends. Shortly afterward Fanny was ill and went out to -Chesington to recuperate. She took the three volumes of "Evelina" with -her, and read them aloud to Mr. Crisp, who pretended that he had no -idea who the author might be and listened with the most flattering -interest to chapter after chapter. "It reminds me of something," he -said one day. - -"And what may that be, dear Daddy?" she asked. - -"I can't think, but it's prodigiously finer than what I'm trying to -recall," he answered. - -By the time she returned home all London was talking about the new -novel and wondering as to the author. Wherever Dr. Burney went he found -people discussing the same subject. The great Dr. Samuel Johnson -declared that it was uncommonly fine, and the Doctor was the accepted -judge of all literary matters. Like all the others he was sure that the -writer was a man, and made many guesses as to which of the lights of -London it might be, but although one man after another was credited -with the honor of having written it each had to decline the -satisfaction. Sir Joshua Reynolds declared he would give fifty pounds -to know the author and meant to find him, and Sheridan vowed he must -get the clever man, whoever he was, to write him a play. - -In the meantime Fanny and Susan were enjoying the mystery tremendously. -It was very delightful to hear all the visitors at their house talking -of "Evelina" without the faintest notion that the author was sitting -there listening to all they had to say. But the time came when Dr. -Burney learned the secret, and his pride in Fanny's accomplishment -could not keep him silent. He told the story to several of his friends -and they, very much amazed, passed it on to others. Then Mrs. Thrale, a -friend of the Burneys, gave a dinner, and told her guests that they -should have the pleasure of meeting the author of "Evelina" there. When -they came they were presented to the shy, quiet young woman whom they -had often seen at Dr. Burney's house. She was overwhelmed with -congratulations, and when the party came to an end Sir Joshua Reynolds, -with a most courtly bow, bent over her hand, and hoped that he might -shortly have the pleasure of entertaining her at his home in Leicester -Square. When she went home Fanny said to Susan, "The joke of it is that -the people spoke as if they were afraid of me, instead of my being very -much afraid of them." - -"Evelina" made Fanny Burney famous. She became a well-known figure in -London life, and wrote other novels, "Cecilia, "Camilla," and "The -Wanderer." She wrote a life of Dr. Burney, and she kept many diaries, -all of which were filled with witty and humorous descriptions of the -people of her age. In time she was appointed a Lady in Waiting to Queen -Charlotte, wife of George III, and took a prominent part at court. -Later she married the French Chevalier D'Arblay, and went with him to -France, where she had many exciting adventures during the Reign of -Terror. She afterward described these adventures in her diary and it -gives a most interesting account of those thrilling times. - -So it was that "the silent, observant Miss Fanny" became one of the -great figures of England at the close of the eighteenth century, and it -was the fact that she could not give up her love of writing and had to -tell the story of her heroine Evelina that first brought her to the -notice of the world and made her famous. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Historic Girlhoods, by Rupert S. 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