Wonderful, thank you. Well, it is our privilege today to have Kevin Hoffman with us to leaven
this series by throwing in some seeds from the early Middle Ages. And even though I have
heard of these women, you could torture me on the rack and I probably couldn't supply
a whole lot. So I am very much looking forward to this. Kevin is a fifth year, you'd think
sixth year given all the knowledge he has, but fifth year PhD student here in history.
And he with his wife has been part of the fellows program too at Rivendell. So glad to have him
here. You will very much enjoy this as I will. We're going to tag team today. So Kevin's going
to begin and cover three women, and then I will bring up the caboose with another profile
or two, depending upon our time. But please, Kevin, take your time and come on and inform
us about some women we should know. Good morning. So last week we were in the world of the Roman
Empire in late antiquity, a world which for all its drawbacks was a more civilized world than the
world which we will be exploring this morning. The world I'm speaking of is the early Middle Ages.
Not only that, we are looking at the earliest of the early Middle Ages. Often called the Dark Ages,
I hope to shine a couple of spotlights on some women whose names are almost certainly unfamiliar
to most of you, perhaps with the exception of John. If there are times where John has to make
heroic leaps and bounds from one source to another to string together a story we can follow, imagine
how some parts of the early Middle Ages make one want to throw their hands up in despair at our lost
and confusing sources. This world is also strange and foreign to us. It has been said that the past is a
foreign country. They do things differently there. Because of our unfamiliarity and the poor survival
of our sources, I will perhaps spend a bit more time on context than in previous weeks. But you might say,
why, if the Dark Ages are so dark, ought we to study them? Well, this period seems to me to be a good one
to investigate for three reasons. First, history is cool and it's my area of research, so you're kind of
stuck with me talking about it. Better get used to it. Second, this period is not well known and is
helpful to explore all the periods of the church. Because the church of the past is the heritage of
the church present. Third, we are in the church formerly known as St. Bonifaces, about whom I would
be happy to talk at some point, but that's for a different discussion. He has a wonderful letter that
he wrote about being a missionary in pagan lands of Europe, essentially saying, it's cold, rainy, dark.
Please send books. He, like these women I am going to talk about, were early medieval Christians.
But to make sense of the world of barbarians, we will need to briefly explore the end of the mighty
Roman Empire. Just before 300, the Roman Empire was split down the middle into two main administrative
regions. Each with two emperors. Right here is the split. Although these divisions were often ignored,
on the whole, the system lasted until the end of the western half of the empire. Due to a series of
civil wars, great power competition to the east, barbarian incursions, plague, climate change, and
collapsing central authority, the western half of the Roman Empire broke apart, while the eastern half
managed to stick around until the 15th century. And finally, by 476, there was no emperor in the west.
There were, however, lots of barbarians in what was Roman territory. Now, I think we have an image in
our mind of barbarians. They probably look a bit like this. They have become quite popular in, well,
pop culture. This is from a recent video game, actually. Big hairy men dressed in dirty furs,
smelling of stale sweat and beer, worshipping pagan gods. Well, some of that might be true. But this
doesn't capture one thing. The barbarians wanted to be Roman. In fact, the office of the commander of all
the Roman armies was often held by a Romanized barbarian. Look at this image. So this guy actually is a
Romanized barbarian. He's the head of all the Roman armies in the end of the fourth century, and he is the
picture of late antique Roman general. Part of that's because the Romans had begun adopting barbarian
styles. He's wearing pants. And partially, the barbarians have adopted a lot of Roman-ness.
But back to barbarians. A major difference between the Romans and these barbarians was their faith.
When the fourth century began, Christianity was not a legal religion. In a little over a decade,
it was a tolerated religion. And by the late fourth century, Christianity was the only legal religion
within the empire. The barbarians, however, were not Christians. When they arrived in contact with
the Romans, they were, without exception, pagan. Once they reached the borders of the empire, they often
converted to Arianism rather than Orthodox Christianity. Now, when I say the name Arian, I don't want you
thinking 1930s and 40s Germany in racial politics. This Arianism doesn't imply anything about race.
It is named after a man called Arius. For those not up on their fourth century church controversies,
Arians believed that the son was created, not begotten. In other words, Christ isn't God in the
same way the father is. This was a major controversy of the fourth century. And now we recognize this as
problematic, as did the church of the period. But if that weren't enough, the issue went deeper than
heresy. Deeper than heresy? How is that possible? Well, Arianism had become not only the religion of
these barbarians, but also a cultural marker. Once religion passes into culture, it becomes almost
impossible to disentangle. To these barbarians, their Arianism was bound up with their German-ness,
and vice versa. They couldn't abandon their German-ness, so too they couldn't abandon their
Arianism. And this is where our story begins. You see where it was divided? That's actually the last
bit of the Western Roman Empire. He dies in exile. We begin our story in what is modern France.
While Southern Europe was ruled mostly by Arian tribes, so these were Arians, these were Arians,
these were Arians, these were Arians, some of these were Arians, these were Arians. Everybody except
these guys and these guys, who were pagans, were Arians. Orthodox Christianity was not a barbarian
religion at this time. The Franks arrive in the north of France over the Rhine River. That's right over
here.
We don't really know much about their early history, but their kings claim to be descended from a sea
monster. I take this to mean he was a pirate, but make of it what you will.
When the Franks enter onto the scene, they had not yet abandoned their old gods, and when they came
into the Roman Empire, they arrived in a world of mainly Christians. Perhaps it is understandable,
but the Romans living in France didn't feel overly inclined to evangelize to the angry-looking,
long-haired kings of the Franks. Remember, hairy barbarians. The Franks began to expand all
throughout France, destroying little kingdom after little kingdom. This doesn't even capture the
number of little, little kingdoms and petty kings that existed at this time.
And eventually, the Franks had expanded to most of France.
But rather than destroy the little kingdom of the Burgundians, the king, Clovis, married a Burgundian
princess named Clotilda. This marriage dramatically altered the course of European history, for you see,
Clotilda was an Orthodox Christian. And by Orthodox, I mean mainly here that she was not an Arian.
As with most individuals in the pre-modern world, we aren't quite sure when Clotilda was born.
Given that she was born at her father's new capital, where he took up residence in 473,
we can guess that she was born sometime after that. So let's say around 474.
Likewise, it isn't really clear how or when she became a Christian. Perhaps it was part of her
father's submission to the dying Roman Empire in 475, two years before the last Roman Emperor was
kicked out. We don't entirely know. What we do know is that in the late 480s and early 490s,
the Burgundian kingdom descended into a civil war between four brothers, and Clotilda's father was
killed by one of his brothers in 493. She fled to a different brother of her father's. A little
confusing, I recognize. Clovis, the king of the Franks, took advantage of the civil war.
In marrying Clotilda in 493, he joined in on this civil war. Clovis thus became a major power player
in the former territories of the Western Roman Empire. But unknown to him, or at least not
understood by him, there was an ongoing war for his soul. Clotilda vigorously sought the conversion
of her husband. Soon after their marriage, their first son was born, and Clovis, perhaps surprisingly,
allowed his son to be baptized into the Catholic faith. Sadly, the son fell ill and passed away soon
afterwards. Clovis, perhaps understandably, blamed Clotilda's god. But he allowed her to have their
second son baptized. Clearly, the conviction of Clotilda was such that it was persuasive to a barbarian
king. And a little grace from God could help her, please. But an intense moment of our story, this
son, the second, also fell ill. But he recovered. The future kings of the Franks would be raised in
their mother's faith, rather than that of their father. But Clotilda was unable to reach her husband
yet. The warrior king continued pushing southwards, doing his warrior thing. In either 496 or 507,
depending on which battle it was, Clovis found himself in a difficult military situation,
and the battle was going poorly. Our historian from the period says that he called on God,
the God of his wife, when the battle was going poorly. And after winning the battle,
he was baptized. Perhaps he was looking for support from the Catholic clergy that still were around in
France. Or perhaps he was hoping that the Eastern Romans
might come and help them against the other barbarian tribes.
Maybe it was actually a true change of heart. We don't know. But this meant that the Frankish
leadership moved from paganism straight to Orthodox Christianity, unlike all the others that went to
Arianism first. We do know that Clovis had Arian family members. And he certainly had pagan family
members. But he didn't turn to them. The faith of Clotilda was his closest tether to Catholicism.
This not only meant that the Franks had Christian leadership, but it made it acceptable to be a
Christian at all levels of society. One king becoming a Christian among many wouldn't have been
significant on its own. But as it happens, the Franks became the most powerful kingdom in Europe,
thereby assuring Christian Orthodoxy would supplant Arianism across all of Europe.
The church hierarchy soon would not be looking east to the Roman Empire, but to France to protect
them from the Arian barbarians. All of this goes back to Clotilda. Moving forward from this point,
it would be Catholic Orthodoxy which spread to the new barbarians. This brings us to our second woman.
Bertha was a Frankish princess, and we know even less about her than we did about, well, Clotilda.
She was the great-granddaughter of Clovis and Clotilda, who was engaged to be married to a barbarian
king from England. Now, in the end of the 6th century, there were somewhere between
seven and ten kingdoms in England, Anglo-Saxon kingdoms in England. That's ignoring all the
British, that is, Celtic-speaking kingdoms. It may come as a bit of a surprise, but it is really hard
to find good maps of places we aren't quite sure of the borders of for a time we aren't entirely certain
of from about 1,500 years ago. The man that Bertha was engaged to was Ethelbert. Great name. Let's bring it back.
The King of Kent down here, right next to France, about as close as you can get.
Now, we don't have any lifetime depictions of him or her. However, this one's pretty close. This is a
depiction of him from, I think, the 8th or 9th century, so a couple hundred years off, but that's as close as we can get sometimes.
However, we do have some depictions or things of lifetime contemporaries. So, I study coins mainly, and this is a wonderful coin.
This is not Ethelbert, but his son, Eadbald, another wonderful name. The Anglo-Saxons could name them.
So, see the legend above his head? Yes, those are, in fact, letters.
Aud, Wald, Re.
Eadbald. Kind of close.
On the next slide,
we see the next-door neighbor to Kent,
the Kingdom of East Anglia.
If you saw the recent movie, The Dig, about the excavation of the Sutton Hoo ship,
this is what the site looked like.
And this is the reconstruction of the helmet found there,
in the boat burial.
Just looking at the helmet and the type of burial,
it's clear that if we are in a Christian world,
it is a Christian world which is very attached to its pagan past.
But in all likelihood,
England was almost entirely pagan.
I think we should be reminding ourselves here
of the hairy barbarian image.
This is perhaps a little surprising,
that England was pagan,
not that barbarians are hairy.
England was part of the Roman Empire,
but when the Roman military left the island in 409,
there were definitely still Christians there.
I'll tell you a story you might know.
There was a British boy,
who was born a little before the Romans left.
He was picked up by slavers and sold in Ireland.
Slavery will be a recurrent theme in this talk,
so keep that in mind.
This boy would escape and find freedom
before going back to Ireland
and becoming their patron saint.
Yes, I am talking of St. Patrick.
The world of Celtic Christianity was alive at this time,
but the Anglo-Saxons seem not to have noticed.
Just like with the Romans in France,
the British were none too keen to evangelize
to their axe-wielding, fur-wearing,
Thor-worshipping barbarian neighbors.
In the coming century,
once Christianity became firmly ensconced in Ireland,
they began sending missionaries to England.
A country which had never been part of the Roman Empire
became Christian before the rest of those regions
that had been a part of the Roman Empire.
But I digress.
Enter Bertha.
You remember the legacy of faith that Clotilda left to her sons?
Bertha was a Christian,
and she insisted that if she were to marry this pagan king,
that she be allowed to worship her god.
Sorry.
That she be allowed to worship her god.
She brought her chaplain with her,
a bishop, Lüthard.
There we go.
Isn't he handsome?
We can see his name right here.
Well, if you can't make Lüthard,
however that's spelled,
out of this word soup,
I can't really blame you.
Yeah.
That's an L.
Looks like an X.
E.
Only has two arms.
U-D-A-R-U-S.
Lüthard.
Oh, there's a D here.
Düs.
E-P-S.
Bishop.
So, yeah.
This isn't a very literate world.
In fact, it's a very, very illiterate world.
But anyways.
Bertha made sure that she had a chapel
in which to worship,
right in Canterbury,
the capital of Kent.
Although, again,
the stubborn husband
refused to acknowledge
his wife was correct.
And it would take another
historical happenstance
for him to be converted.
Over 1,000 miles away in Rome,
Pope Gregory the Great
noticed two boys
being sold as slaves.
It is reported that
when he asked where they were from,
he was told they were Angli.
Angles, English.
His response was,
Non sunt Angli, said Angli.
They aren't Angles.
They're angels.
Presumably, Gregory
wasn't very familiar
with those with blonde hair.
Or perhaps they had
particularly nice voices.
In any case,
it spurred the Pope
to send a mission
to these angels in the north.
Remember,
hairy barbarians.
Gregory sent for a couple of monks
to be apostles to the English.
Augustine of Canterbury,
not his more famous namesake,
who was from North Africa.
This Augustine
led the mission to England.
When they arrived,
you can guess
which kingdom
they set up in.
Yep,
they arrived in Kent
and set up their new church
right next to Bertha's Chapel,
which is the oldest
continuous place
of Christian worship
in England.
Now, I don't doubt
that God could have orchestrated
a favorable reception
even among the pagans.
But surely,
Queen Bertha's faith
made her husband
more naturally inclined
to accept these foreign leave,
that he would have viewed
these foreigners
as representatives
of a foreign power.
Now, it is usually
Gregory the Great
and Augustine
who get credit
for the conversion
of the English,
and on one level,
they do deserve
considerable credit.
But the English
had a bad habit
of civil wars
and one kingdom
taking over another
and missionaries
getting kicked out
repeatedly,
sometimes the same one.
The church
had a beachhead
in England
with Bertha,
and it wasn't going
to be pushed back
across the channel.
Then again,
that doesn't mean
that England
didn't start sending
their own missionaries,
like Boniface,
for whom this church
used to be named.
But some of those missionaries
weren't sent to France
with the intention
of preaching.
With the intention
of preaching,
some of them
arrived in,
like St. Patrick,
as slaves.
A woman named
Baltild arrived
in France
as a slave.
Now,
I said I would
come back to this,
and here seems
like a good place
to do so.
Slavery was common
in the ancient
and medieval worlds.
While it was certainly
the case that the economy
of the early Middle Ages
was not slave-based,
like the ancient world,
at some times
and in some regions,
there were a considerable
number of slaves.
Some have argued
that the slavery
was the basis
of the early medieval economy,
with the barbarian kings
selling what they had
lots of,
people,
in exchange for what
they had none of,
gold,
to North Africa,
the Eastern Roman Empire,
and the Middle East.
Slavery in the ancient world
didn't have the same
racial connotation
it has today.
Typically,
most were prisoners of war
from the next-door
little kingdom.
Another category of slave
were those who were
temporarily,
usually,
sold themselves
into slavery
to receive protection
or to pay off a debt
or a bit of both.
So what was
Baltild's status?
There seems to be
some debate.
The earliest sources
we have
don't mention
her status at all.
But about a century
after her death,
it was said that
she was aristocratic
or royal.
We can't be certain,
but I think there are
good indications
that she was actually
low-born.
Born around 626,
she was sold
into the house
of the most powerful man
in one of the
Frankish kingdoms
after the king.
At some point,
he,
the second most powerful man,
wanted to marry her.
But apparently,
he had competition.
So did the king.
One might immediately
suspect,
aha,
proof that she was royal.
Why else would a king
want to marry her
except to solidify
an alliance?
And there are
other things
that might
indicate that
she was royal.
there you go.
This is a
seal matrix.
So the part
that's inserted
into wax
to create
the image.
These are actually
concave.
So this would have
been pressed into that.
But this was actually
found in England,
not in France.
And again,
this is more literate
than some,
although the A
is in fact upside down,
as is the L,
B,
A,
L,
D,
Balde,
Hildes.
Baldehild.
But the Frankish kings
are a bit odd.
No fewer than
three kings
and perhaps
four married slaves
who then rose
to be queen.
And sometimes,
after the king's death,
ruled in their own name.
A source
about a hundred years
after these events
describes the king
as descending to insanity
before his death
at the age of only 18.
It is possible
that he was considered
unstable
and was thus married
off to a slave.
This happened
in the Frankish world
that feeble-minded kings
were often married
to slaves.
Perhaps they were seen
to be able
to control the king
sufficiently
for the second
most powerful person
to be able
to actually do
the real running
of the country.
But this,
the fact that he dies
or that he descends
into insanity
before he's dying
might imply
that she was just
a run-of-the-mill slave
with no aristocratic background.
With the death
of her husband
and her sons
in minority,
she took sole rulership
of the kingdom
as regent
on behalf of her son.
She had a powerful coalition
backing her,
including the man
who purchased her
and a bishop
named Eligius.
So,
I thought this was
kind of cool.
E-L-I-G-I-L-E-G
of Eligius.
And here's a modern one.
He is a saint,
he is a bishop,
and he was also
the king's monnier
for a period.
That's pretty rare
that we actually know
who the monniers are.
They usually aren't bishops.
He's lowborn.
He's not an aristocrat.
This coalition
that she established
actually was fairly successful.
She had a very successful regency.
And her son
eventually ascended
to the throne,
a success
in times
where assassination
was the norm.
during her time
as regent,
she sent missionaries
to Germany,
fought simony,
the buying or selling
of church offices
in the church,
and founded numerous monasteries
for the preservation
of knowledge.
One scholar
has contended
that she was
the last competent monarch
of the dynasty
that began with Clovis
in the 470s.
This is 130 years later,
the last competent monarch
of this dynasty.
Her husband
is sometimes thought of
as the first of the,
they're called
the Roi Fainel,
meaning the do-nothing kings,
which seems
particularly harsh.
But if that is all
she had done,
been a successful regent,
she would have been
really interesting.
In the 19th century,
jumping many centuries here,
in the Luxembourg gardens
in Paris,
a series of 20 sculptures
of the Queens of France
were commissioned.
Among these,
20,
Baltild is represented.
Why her?
Well,
she might be considered
an abolitionist.
It is perhaps
no coincidence
that the promulgation
of a new decree
ending slavery
in the French colonies
where it remained.
It had already been removed
in some of the colonies
and then added back
during the Napoleonic period.
A promulgation
of a new decree
ending slavery
in the French colonies
where it remained
was from the same year
as the statue.
France had actually been
at the leading end
of abolition
in the modern era,
but also
in the pre-modern.
Baltild made huge reforms
in France,
including making
the purchasing
of slaves illegal.
Much in the way
that the Atlantic slave trade
was made illegal
before the extirpation
of slavery
within the boundaries
of the U.S.,
Baltild could not go
so far as to free slaves
within France.
Her position
was far too precarious
for something
so wide-sweeping.
She promulgated
a law
that made slaves
free upon arrival
in France.
This would be reiterated
in 1315
by a subsequent
French king.
Could her experience
of being a slave
have led to this result?
I think so.
But let's tie up
the story
I've been telling today
in a nice,
neat bow.
Returning to the map
we began with,
maps are great,
we follow the story
of a Burgundian princess.
Here we are.
A Burgundian princess
named Clotilde
who married
the Frankish king.
Brought him
not only to Christ,
but kept the kingdom
of France away
from denying
the divinity of Christ.
That legacy of faith
left by Clotilde
was picked up
by her great-granddaughter,
Bertha,
who married
an English king.
From over here.
Insisting that she
be allowed
to practice her faith
in the pagan land
of England.
When missionaries
were sent from Rome
to England,
they found a home
in this little kingdom
of Kent.
And from there,
Christianity would spread
throughout England.
Decades later,
an English slave
would be sold
into France.
She would become queen
and would begin
the long fight
to extirpate slavery
from Christendom.
Perhaps we don't have
all the details
of the lives
of these women,
but their impact
is clear.
Thank you.
Any questions?
Comments?
Kevin, is there
any evidence
that the abolition
of the slave trade,
I guess purchasing slaves,
do we notice
any sort of effect?
did it,
or is it just,
is it just in,
in legislation
or we're aware
of that
or is there
a way to trace
or pick up
any effects
of this?
So,
on the extirpation
of slavery,
did it have
an impact?
Actually,
the Merovingian period,
so that's the period
in Frankish history
we're looking at,
is at a low point
for finds
of slave shackles.
So,
archaeologically speaking,
in the late antique period,
slave shackles
are found
all across Europe
in the ruins
of Roman-style villas
all over.
In the Merovingian period,
it's at an all-time low
that it drops precipitously.
Now,
I don't remember
exactly when the dating
of it dropping is,
but it is in this period.
And subsequently,
after the Merovingian period,
when the second
most powerful people,
the mayors of the palace,
as they were called,
they rise up
and create their own dynasty,
kicking out the do-nothing kings,
they actually re-institute slavery
and you start finding
slave shackles again
on the periphery
of the kingdom,
but not within
the heartlands of France.
So,
we do see impacts.
Now,
to what extent
is it just,
they just had
the Scandinavians
sell the slaves,
let them pass through,
they weren't keeping
the slaves,
but picking up
some tolls?
Well,
we don't entirely know,
but
there seems to be
an impact,
at least archaeologically speaking.
Yeah.
John,
would you like to...
Yes, yes.
All right,
thank you.
One thing
was absolutely
certain.
She would not
be staying in India.
And she was not
going to become
a missionary.
Never.
India was altogether
too hot,
too dusty,
too overcrowded,
with most
of its seething
masses dirty
or destitute,
leprous
or lice-ridden.
Besides,
a missionary bungalow
was no place
for a blossoming
young lady
fresh out of college.
There she is.
With dreams
of balls
and bows,
dresses
and dances,
and eventual
marriage to a millionaire.
neither
would the expectation
generated by
the Scudder family
tradition
sway her.
What if
her grandfather,
John,
was America's
first foreign
medical missionary?
What if
all his sons
had followed
in his footsteps?
What if
all the other
grandchildren
were planning
on doing the same?
not
Ida Scudder.
She
would not
be forced
into the family
mold.
She had only
returned to India
to nurse
her ailing mother
back to health.
Then
it would be back
to the good life
in America.
That much
was certain.
Or so
she was quite
sure
until
all suddenly
changed
that one
terrible
night.
She was up
late
in her bungalow
when her
reading was
interrupted
by a knock.
It was a
high-class
Brahmin.
Amal,
I desperately
need your help.
My wife,
a young girl
of 14,
is dying
in childbirth.
Oh,
exclaimed
Ida
in swift
sympathy.
It's my
father you
want.
He's the
doctor.
He's right
next door.
I'll take
you to him.
What?
exclaimed
the Brahmin
in haughty
outrage.
Permit
a man
to look
upon my
wife.
It is
better
that she
should die.
Ida
was aghast.
There's
nothing you
can do,
explained
her father.
It's the
custom.
It would
violate
his caste
law.
Shaking,
she returned
to her
book.
Then,
again,
footsteps
sounded on
the veranda,
this time
a Mohammedan.
Salaam,
madam,
may Allah
give you
peace.
if you
could help
me.
It is
my wife.
The child
will not
come.
I am
afraid she
is dying.
Ida
gasped.
My father
will help.
He's...
Madam,
the voice
was apologetic
but firm.
You don't
understand our
ways.
Only men
of the
immediate
family
enter a
Muslim
woman's
room.
It is
you,
a woman
whose
help I
seek,
not a
man's.
But I
can't
help,
sputtered
Ida.
I'm not
even a
nurse.
Then my
wife must
die,
returned the
Muslim in
stalled
resignation.
It is
the will
of Allah.
Ida
was left
with her
book but
could not
read.
She lay
awake on
her bed.
It was
then the
third
knock
came.
To her
horror,
another
with the
same
plea.
He too
had a
young wife
dying in
labor.
Would I
to come?
Don't you
understand?
There is
nothing I
can do.
I could
not sleep
that night.
It was
too terrible,
Ida
later recalled.
Here
were three
young girls
dying
because
there was
no woman
to help
them.
I spent
the night
in anguish
and prayer.
I think
that it
was the
first time
I ever
met God
face to
face.
with the
first light
came the
beating of
the tom
toms,
the death
message.
For all
three girls
had died
that night.
Ida
remained in
a room
wrestling
with God.
When she
finally emerged,
she found
her father
and mother
and resolutely
announced,
I'm going
to America
to study
to be a
doctor
so I
can come
back here
and help
the women
of India.
And that's
just what
she did.
Cornell
Medical
College
had just
opened its
doors to
women.
and Ida
was among
the first
of its
graduating
class,
the class
of 1899.
The Cornell
Quarterly
tells us
that when
the women
entered the
class or
the operating
theater,
the men
students would
stamp their
feet and
blow kisses.
I suppose
some things
never change.
And that
was not
the only
thing that
the men
did to
harry
the poor
women.
Ida
received
a
marriage
proposal
just
before
she had
to take
her final
round of
exams.
She passed
the exams
and she
passed on
the proposal.
As for
her residency,
she determined
to fulfill it
under her
father.
Who better
to prepare
her for
the peculiar
challenges
India would
afford?
One week
away from
sailing,
it was
suggested
she ought
to raise
$8,000
to build
a women's
hospital
in India.
Not a
lot of
time,
but she
threw herself
into the
task,
calling on
anyone she
could think
of.
But
dollars
came in
at a
trickle,
an ounce
of water
to quench
an elephant's
thirst,
as she put
it.
Hopes
were pinned
on one
final interview
where Ida
poured out
her heart
and told
of that
terrible
night
of the
three
knocks.
Yet no
commitment
came,
and it
seemed there
would be no
women's
hospital.
But,
by chance,
there sat
in an
adjacent
room a
man who
overheard
Ida's
plea.
Much
moved,
the man
came forward.
Name
the hospital
in memory
of my
beloved
wife,
Mary
Tabor
Schell,
said the
stranger,
and handed
her a
check for
$10,000.
Ida
had her
hospital,
but there
was one
more thing
she would
not leave
for India
without.
A woman
evangelist
who could
labor with
her to
bring
gospel to
the women
within the
dark,
secluding
walls.
November
22nd,
1899,
Ida set
sail.
With her
was her
girlhood
friend,
Annie
Hancock,
to labor
at her
side as
an evangelist.
It was
a challenging
start.
Her
father,
from whom
she expected
to receive
her residency,
died just
months after
her return.
Her first
patient,
so far
gone by
the time
she was
summoned,
died,
as did
the next.
Scarcely a
good commendation
for her medical
skills for the
locals.
But finally,
after a
successful
conjunctivitis
case,
her miraculous
healing powers
were proclaimed.
and the
veranda of
her 8-by-10-foot
room,
which served
as her
dispensary,
was thronged
from dawn
to dusk.
One day,
a mother
came in,
too terrified
to hold
her diseased
baby.
Ida called
upon Salome,
the cook.
Salome
appeared,
sporting
spotless
hands and
a smile
of unmistakable
eagerness.
See,
Missy?
Scrubbed
with soap.
Don't have
to tell
Salome.
She held
the baby
firmly,
but gently.
Then,
while Ida
attended to
the mother,
Salome
turned to
the next
patient.
Parvati
wishes more
medicine for
her baby's
sore eyes.
Shall I
give her
some of
this?
Pointing to
the bottle
of boric
acid solution.
Why,
yes,
Salome,
but how
did you
know?
I know.
I have
been watching
Missy.
Ida's
eyes lit
up.
Yes,
of course,
I will
start a
nursing school
and Salome
will be
the first
pupil.
And so
it was.
There's
an old
photo of
the first
nurses she
had in
her school.
Am I
right in
front of
this?
This is
being seen
at all.
Okay,
okay.
Don't want
you to
miss the
pictures.
But soon,
Dr.
Ida had
set her
sights
higher.
If she
could train
nurses,
why not
doctors?
The inspiration
met with
incredulity
all around.
Indian
women
become
doctors
and compete
against men
from India's
seven medical
schools?
girls?
But you
scarcely had
to be
sexist to
think the
situation
implausible.
With Dr.
Ida, the
sole
instructor
at a
school
that possessed
only two
books,
one
microscope
and one
skeleton?
There she
goes,
training them.
But Ida
was
indomitable.
She didn't
cut her
clinics,
there she
is,
some of
her
clinics,
or her
roadside
peripatetic
dispensary.
She'd have
this ox
cart,
well here
it is,
this ox
cart that
would go
around into
the countryside
where she
would bring
her medical
expertise and
aid to
the locals.
So kind
of a
traveling
dispensary.
that she
is there.
She's
the one
in her
clear medical
garb of
the time.
No,
she continued
all those
things,
but added
teaching the
entire medical
school curriculum
to her
14 lambs,
as she
called them.
Widespread
prediction was
that not
one of her
girls,
would pass
their board
exams.
As the
results were
announced,
stress
mounted,
for 80%
of the
men across
India had
failed.
The women's
scores were
revealed last.
Every one
of them
had passed,
and several
of them
in the top
rank,
placing Ida's
Women's
Medical College
at the
head of
all the
medical
schools
of India.
There are
some of the
first women
graduates.
Teaching the
girls is
no headache
in comparison
to feeding
them,
joked
Ida.
For with
Christian,
Hindu,
and
Mohammedan
students,
many with
caste or
religious
culinary
obligations,
there was
no simple
ladling out
of the
same pot
of stew.
Finally,
she divided
them into
three menu
groups,
vegetarians,
meatarians,
and
agarians,
she called
them.
A great
day of
rejoicing
was the
long-awaited
opening of
the Mary
Tabor
Shell
Memorial
Hospital.
There it
is.
Although,
the new
white iron
beds,
as you can
see,
were objects
of terror
as well
as wonder
to the first
patients.
Accustomed
to sleeping
on mats
at floor
level,
the frightened
occupants
felt as if
they were
being placed
on dangerously
high shelves.
Ida would
regularly
discover
patients
wrapped
carefully
in their
sheets
lying
under
the bed
instead
of on
them.
Well,
if only
all the
trials
were that
trivial.
Keeping
the hospital
funded
and supplied
proved a
Herculean
task,
especially
in the
years coinciding
with the
two world
wars and
the depression.
Thankfully,
Ida found a
Scotch
administrator,
literally from
Scotland,
but also Scotch,
who could
stretch a
rupee to
Rangoon,
and the
hospital never
had to
close its
doors.
Neither
were these
years always
free from
political
turbulence.
Once,
during a
tense time
of martial
law,
Ida,
in order
to visit
a critically
ill
Mohammedan
patient,
donned a
disguise and
countervened
the curfew.
Another
experience she
would never
forget involved
delivering a
wealthy young
Muslim woman
of a
beautifully
formed,
but
precariously
delicate
baby girl.
Day and
night,
Ida
wrestled
to keep
the infant
alive,
and did
not rest
till she
was sure
the tiny
life was
out of
danger.
But the
family regarded
the might
with glum
disfavor,
not only
for her
gender,
but her
birth,
they said,
had occurred
on an
inauspicious
day.
Ida was
confident,
however,
that given
little time,
the child
would win
their hearts.
Sometime
later,
while about
other things,
Ida suddenly
felt a
strong impulse
to check
on the
baby.
She flew
through the
hospital to
S-ward.
All was
quiet behind
the screen
concealing
the bed.
Too
quiet.
Pulling
aside
the
curtain,
she saw
a pillow
being pressed
hard against
the surface
of the bed.
Snatching it
away,
there was
the baby,
already blue
in the face,
only moments
short of
being smothered.
How could
you?
Born on
unlucky
day,
will of
Allah she
die?
You don't
want her
to die,
you take
her.
All right,
said Ida,
I will.
And she
named the
girl
Mary Tabor
after the
hospital,
the first
of what
would become
a great
number of
unwanted
daughters,
Ida took
under wing.
Never
married,
she had
children
galore.
It was
not just
love her
patients received,
it was
Christian
love.
And
according to
her earnest
prayer,
none would
linger long
without learning
something of
it.
Once a
Muslim woman
recovering from
a sudden
attack of
acute
malarial
mania
seized
Ida's
hand.
Tell me
why you
did not
lose your
temper with
me when
I was
quite out
of my
mind.
Before
Ida could
answer,
a Hindu
woman in
the next
bed responded,
don't you
know why?
That's what
their god
is like.
Long
suffering
and slow
to
anger.
Well,
on her
88th
birthday,
Cornell
University
Medical
College
conferred
upon its
first woman
graduate
its highest
honor,
the award
of distinction.
The usual
requirement of
receiving the
award in
person was
kindly waived,
for Dr.
Ida was
loathe to
leave her
beloved
hospital,
a hospital
so much
more now
than even
she could
ever have
imagined that
night of
the three
knocks.
beds.
The one
bed for
healing
in her
father's
mission
bungalow
had now
become
more than
1,000
beds.
The first
class of
14 lambs
had swelled
to
900
each year.
the staff
of two,
herself and
a cook
turned nurse
Salome,
had multiplied
to include
380
doctors,
400
nurses,
and 270
paramedical
workers,
serving
nearly
2,500
patients
in a
single
day.
Okay.
I wonder
what we
might
undertake
that is
worthy of
our life
investment.
Have we
heard any
knocks
in the
night
which might
serve as
a clue?
How far
we have
come,
said the
aged
Ida
at the
last.
Oh,
God has
been so
very good
to us.
Indeed.
Well,
let me
stop there
and open
it up
for any
questions.
Look at
that smile.
Isn't
that a
wonderful
expression
of a
good
life
well
lived?
What
paramedia
was she?
It was
in
Velour.
So,
yeah,
I should
have had
maps.
I should
have had
maps.
It is.
In fact,
I had a
couple of
these from
old
transparencies,
but I
jumped on
Google,
and you
can actually
Google,
like they've
got this
thing called
Google
image,
and you
can go
there.
And
they had
pictures,
some old
ones,
of her,
and they
have pictures
of the
hospital.
Now,
I had a
missionary
friend.
Well,
you remember
Dan
Nicholas.
He had
gone over
and he
had visited
the hospital
and he
sent me
some
wonderful
pictures
of it,
and it's
still going
strong.
still there,
a wonderful
heritage.
There's
Dorothy
Clark has
written a
wonderful
biography of
her.
It's a fun
one if you
want to
read it.
And there's
also one
that kind
of chronicles
the history
of the
entire
Scudder
family.
It's
called
A Thousand
Years in
Thy Sight,
because they
totaled
up all
of the
years of
medical
labor that
was done
in India
by all
of the
family,
and it
totaled up
to about
a thousand
years.
It's a
wonderful
title.
A thousand
years in
thy sight.
And in
that hospital
and from
some of
that family,
some of
the cutting
edge research
globally,
worldwide,
has been
done,
apparently,
on things
like leprosy
and other
things,
really,
really
remarkable
accomplishments
from there.
So,
yes.
All right.
Well,
team,
it looks like
we're at
time,
so I
will not
do,
but maybe
sometime in
the future,
we'll just
have to
pick up
this series
again,
because we
have by
no means
exhausted
the
extraordinary
women
whose
names and
lives we
should know
and honor.
So,
hopefully,
there can
be a
part B
sometime,
because I
even have
more prepared,
ready to go
at some point.
It would be
lots of fun
to do,
but thank you
for your
time,
and hopefully,
this will be
an inspiration
to us all.
I think of
how Paul
said,
imitate me
as I
imitate Christ,
and what
makes these
women such
extraordinary
leaders is
what makes
any leader
an extraordinary
leader,
which is
simply this,
that they
are good
followers of
Christ.
They are
exemplary
followers of
Christ.
So,
if you
follow Christ
well,
you are
a leader.
You are
exemplary
in that,
and you
can be a
great
blessing
to those
of us
that can
look and
be inspired
by your
lives as
we seek
to follow
Christ
faithfully
to both
women and
men.
Well,
thank you.
We will
see you
next time
as we
have
occasion
to do
so.
Ming
for
to
her
father
decision