ng man left my
grandmother and her eight children almost destitute. She was immediately
given a position in the castle of the Duke of Northumberland, and
her sons were educated in the duke's school, while her daughters were
entered in the school of the duchess.
My thoughts dwell lovingly on this grandmother, Nicolas Grant Stott, for
she was a remarkable woman, with a dauntless soul and progressive ideas
far in advance of her time. She was one of the first Unitarians in
England, and years before any thought of woman suffrage entered the
minds of her country-women she refused to pay tithes to the support of
the Church of England--an action which precipitated a long-drawn-out
conflict between her and the law. In those days it was customary to
assess tithes on every pane of glass in a window, and a portion of the
money thus collected went to the support of the Church. Year after year
my intrepid grandmother refused to pay these assessments, and year after
year she sat pensively upon her door-step, watching articles of her
furniture being sold for money to pay her tithes. It must have been
an impressive picture, and it was one with which the community became
thoroughly familiar, as the determined old lady never won her fight and
never abandoned it. She had at least the comfort of public sympathy, for
she was by far the most popular woman in the countryside. Her neighbors
admired her courage; perhaps they appreciated still more what she did
for them, for she spent all her leisure in the homes of the very poor,
mending their clothing and teaching them to sew. Also, she left behind
her a path of cleanliness as definite as the line of foam that follows
a ship; for it soon became known among her protegees that Nicolas Stott
was as much opposed to dirt as she was to the payment of tithes.
She kept her children in the schools of the duke and duchess until they
had completed the entire course open to them. A hundred times, and among
many new scenes and strange people, I have heard my mother describe her
own experiences as a pupil. All the children of the dependents of the
castle were expected to leave school at fourteen years of age. During
their course they were not allowed to study geography, because, in the
sage opinion of their elders, knowledge of foreign lands might make
them discontented and inclined to wander. Neither was composition
encouraged--that might lead to the writing of love-notes! But they were
permitted to abso
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