DEC IK 1916 ) 
 
 
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 in 2011 with funding from 
 
 Princeton Theological Seminary Library 
 
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ENGLISH 
 
 Btvtntttntl) €txitnvQ 
 
 Faith is their fix'd' unswerving root, 
 Hope their unfading flower, 
 
 Fair deeds of charity their fruit, 
 The glory of their "bower. 
 
 STANFORD AND SWORDS 
 
 No. 139, Broadway. 
 1847. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 In the following notices we find spe- 
 cimens of a class — representatives of a 
 period. The religious ladies of the 
 seventeenth century whose names have 
 come down to us, may fairly be regarded 
 as samples of a much larger number like 
 themselves. Of persons who lived and 
 died in the privacy of domestic life, only 
 a small proportion could meet with any 
 kind of personal memorial ; and of those, 
 necessarily the greater part would be- 
 long to the higher ranks of society. We 
 know in our own times how limited is 
 the circle to which any private excel- 
 lence is intimately known, and for how 
 short a time it remains in the memory 
 of its own generation, unless circum- 
 stances, such as high rank, great talent, 
 or some other point equally independent 
 of that excellence itself, cause it to retain 
 a place in men's minds.* The fact of 
 
 * For example, of Anne Ken, sister of the 
 great Bishop, and wife of Izaac Walton, scarce- 
 ly any other memorial is left than the following 
 Epitaph from the pen of her husband, which 
 seems to show so high a tone of character, that 
 every one who reads it must desire to know 
 more. 
 
 Here lieth buried, so much as eould die of 
 ? the wife of Izaac Walton, who was a 
 a 2 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 the names in these notices being, with 
 but one or two exceptions, aristocratic 
 ones, is only the natural consequence of 
 this difficulty ; the religion of humble 
 life was not recorded in that day, as it is 
 not in the present. 
 
 With respect to the particular model 
 of religious character which they pre- 
 sent, all that need be said here is, that 
 it is essentially a Church one, that it 
 bears the true Church marks of humility, 
 charity, and self-denial. The Church 
 has a peculiar power of at once elevating 
 and chasteningher religious minds, which 
 other communions have not, or at least 
 have not in at all the same significant 
 way in which she has. There is a de- 
 votional model which strikes us immedi- 
 ately as being the Church one ; which 
 we can hardly describe except by the 
 vague but characteristic term, ecclesi- 
 astical. Without entering into particu- 
 lars, or trying to define, the whole tone 
 of Church devotion strikes us as being 
 different from that which is even aimed 
 at in Sectarianism. The Church has 
 her own form of the humble, sweet, 
 penitential, simple character, which is, 
 
 woman of remarkable prudence, and of the 
 primitive piety : her great and general know- 
 ledge, being adorned with such true humility, 
 and blest with so much Christian meekness, as 
 made her worthy of a more memorable monu- 
 ment. 
 
 She died (alas, that she is dead !) the 17th 
 of April, 1662, aged 52. Study to be like her." 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 to speak generally, absolutely peculiar 
 to her. This character is capable of in- 
 finite varieties of shade and complexion, 
 and gradations of height and splendour ; 
 but it is at the same time the one com- 
 prehensive character of all Church saints, 
 from the lowest to the highest, the one 
 saintly model of all of them. This is 
 the test of Church religion, and the fol- 
 lowing characters appear to answer gen- 
 erally to it. 
 
 One point should be just mentioned in 
 connection with them. Some persons 
 have maintained that the piety of the 
 nation all centred in the puritan school 
 at the period of the civil war. Such an 
 assertion of course implies an entire ig- 
 norance of what was really the fact 
 throughout this period. At the same 
 time, so long as there are any to believe 
 it, it is only doing justice to our Church 
 to bring her religious characters to light, 
 as these pages endeavour to do. 
 
 With respect to the sources of infor- 
 mation that have been referred to, in the 
 case of Lady Falkland and Lady Hal- 
 ket, memoirs are still extant which give 
 a tolerably distinct picture of their lives ; 
 in other cases, the chief documents re- 
 lating to the persons are Funeral Ser- 
 mons, which often fail in conveying a 
 distinct image, from abounding so much 
 in generalities. All the facts that could 
 be gathered from these authorities have 
 been here collected, with the additional 
 assistance of Clarendon, Lloyd, Fuller, 
 a 3 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 Evelyn, Collins, Ballard, Lodge, Gilpin, 
 Whittaker, and others. In hardly any 
 instance but that of Mrs. Basire, has it 
 been found possible to collect notices of 
 ladies of inferior rank to that of the 
 wives of noblemen or the higher gentry, 
 and even of these, the accounts are often 
 incomplete. A good deal of repetition 
 is unavoidable, not only from the ten- 
 dency to generalize which is shown by 
 the biographers and panegyrists, but al- 
 so from one circumstance which forms 
 the chief value of the collection, the 
 uniformity of practice in many essential 
 points among all these female members 
 of the English Church. 
 
 The inverted commas which have 
 been used in some of the shorter notices, 
 in extracting from different authors, do 
 not in every case imply a literal adher- 
 ence to their words ; but have been suf- 
 fered to stand even when it seemed con- 
 venient by some slight alterations to 
 blend such extracts with the main narra- 
 tive. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The notices in this volume commence 
 with the period of the Great Rebellion. 
 As an introduction to them, some account 
 is here given of a family that belonged 
 to the more peaceful times antecedent 
 to that event. In 1624, the Ferrar fam- 
 ily, consisting of Mrs. Ferrar, Nicholas 
 Ferrar, his sister, and all the younger 
 members of the family, retired from the 
 world to a devotional establishment. 
 Mrs. Ferrar seems to have been admira- 
 bly adapted to assist and guide such an 
 undertaking. In her youth she was de- 
 scribed as of great beauty, and of very 
 modest deportment, using few words, 
 but when she spoke, showing wisdom 
 and eloquence beyond her sex ; and 
 bringing up her children with great care 
 and piety ; and in her widowhood , at the 
 age of seventy-three, when she entered 
 so warmly into her son's views, she was 
 possessed of so much vigour, and had so 
 much of the appearance as well as the 
 reality of health, that those who saw 
 her concluded her not to be more than 
 forty. 
 
 Nicholas Ferrar had hitherto led a 
 career of extraordinary activity and dili- 
 gence, and had been successfully en- 
 gaged in many affairs of the greatest 
 a 4 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 public importance, where his unflinching 
 zeal for the cause of right had been aid- 
 ed by singular powers of mind and apti- 
 tude for public business ; but now, at the 
 age of twenty-seven, he determined to 
 carry out what had long been the chosen 
 wish of his heart, and retiring from the 
 world, to give himself up to the service 
 of God by a life of strict devotion. 
 
 The place he fixed on for his religious 
 retirement, was Little Gidding, in the 
 county of Huntingdon, chosen for the 
 privacy of its situation. It was a large 
 mansion house, falling to decay, and a 
 small church within thirty or forty paces 
 of the house, at that time converted into 
 a barn. The purchase was made in the 
 year 1624. 
 
 At this time the plague raged in Lon- 
 don ; and Nicholas Ferrar, anxious for 
 his mother and her family who were re- 
 siding there, prevailed on them with 
 much importunity to leave him to con- 
 clude his business in London, and retire 
 into the country till the house he had 
 purchased should be prepared for them. 
 When he reached Little Gidding, he 
 wrote, begging his mother to delay her 
 coming for a month, that all danger of 
 his having caught infection might be 
 over ; but Mrs. Ferrar, impatient to see 
 her son, immediately joined him there. 
 Their meeting is thus described : — 
 Though he had been engaged in many 
 public concerns of great importance, had 
 been a distinguished member of parlia- 
 
INTRODUCTION, IX 
 
 ment, and had conducted with effect the 
 prosecution of the prime minister of the 
 day ; at first approaching his mother, he 
 knelt upon the ground to ask and receive 
 her blessing. He then besought her to 
 go into the house, rude as it was, and 
 repose herself. This she refused till she 
 had given thanks to God in the Church, 
 which was very near at hand, but she 
 was extremely grieved to find it filled 
 with hay and instruments of husbandry. 
 Immediately all the workmen, many in 
 number, employed in the repair of the 
 house, were set to cleanse and repair the 
 church ; for she said she would not suffer 
 her eyes to sleep, nor her eyelids to 
 slumber, till she had purified the Temple 
 of the Lord. 
 
 In about a month's time, when all 
 danger of infection was past, she sent 
 for her daughter, Mrs. Collet, with her 
 husband, and all their numerous family, 
 to come and live with her at Gidding. 
 Her family now consisted of near forty 
 persons ; and it being a season of hu- 
 miliation, for the mortality prevailing 
 through England, they determined to 
 make continued prayer to God. To 
 this end, as soon as the church was 
 put into decent repair, Bishop "Williams 
 gave permission for service being per- 
 formed there, as it was done accordingly 
 morning and evening, by the minister of 
 the adjoining parish. 
 
 At Easter, 1626, the plague having 
 ceased, Nicholas Ferrar and his mother, 
 a 5 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 with others of their family, went up to 
 London to settle their remaining affairs, 
 and take leave of their friends. Whilst 
 they were there, he showed his mother 
 a vow which he had written and signed 
 with great solemnity, that since God had 
 so often heard his humble petitions, and 
 delivered him out of many dangers, he 
 would now give himself up continually 
 to serve God in the office of a deacon, to 
 which he had that morning been ordained 
 by Laud, then Bishop of St. David's, 
 and that renouncing the vanities of the 
 world, he would devote the remainder 
 of his life to mortification, devotion, and 
 charity. On his ordination he received 
 the offers of some ecclesiastical benefices 
 of great value, but he declined them, 
 saying, that it was his firm determination 
 to rise no higher in the Church than the 
 place and office which he now possessed, 
 and which he undertook only with the 
 view to be legally authorized to give 
 spiritual assistance to his family and 
 others. He then returned with his 
 mother to Gidding, where, when the ne- 
 cessary repairs of the church were com- 
 pleted, she undertook the care of its fur- 
 niture, providing two new sets of hang- 
 ings suitable for week-days and feast- 
 days, a new font, a brass eagle as a lec- 
 tern, communion plate, and candles. 
 Dr. Williams, Bishop of Lincoln, came 
 to view the church and house in 1631, 
 and approved the rules which he had 
 drawn up " for watching, fasting, and 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 praying, for singing psalms and hymns, 
 for their exercises in readings and repe- 
 titions, for their distribution of alms, 
 their care of the sick and wounded, and 
 other regularities of their institution." 
 
 Two years afterwards Mrs. Ferrar re- 
 solved to restore the glebe lands and 
 tithes to the church, and after some 
 difficulty accomplished it. The house 
 was now furnished, with two oratories 
 for men and women ; Mrs. Ferrar, with 
 her daughter and granddaughters, occu- 
 pying the latter, and taking their part in 
 all the practices of devotion and charity 
 for which the household was estab- 
 lished. 
 
 A large building was appropriated for 
 a school-room, which being too large for 
 the children of the family, permission 
 was given to as many in the neighbour- 
 ing towns as desired it, to send their 
 children, where they were instructed 
 without expense. 
 
 To this purpose he provided there a 
 schoolmaster to reside in his house, and 
 teach the different branches of educa- 
 tion, amongst which music had a leading 
 place. As the children grew older, and 
 their powers of judgment were in some 
 degree matured, they were taught under 
 Nicholas Ferrar's more immediate in- 
 struction, and he devoted several hours 
 of the day to their instruction, laying 
 out most exact plans for their employ- 
 ment and recreation. He was anxious 
 that they should commit passages of 
 
Xll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Scripture to memory, and especially the 
 whole book of Psalms ; and gave daily 
 catechetical lectures according to the 
 doctrines of the Church of England. In 
 order to make his labours extensively 
 beneficial, he invited all the children of 
 the surrounding parishes to get the 
 Psalms by heart, and gave each a 
 Psalter. 
 
 These Psalm children, as they were 
 called, more than a hundred in number, 
 assembled every Sunday morning at 
 Gidding, repeated their tasks, and after 
 church, dined in the great hall under the 
 superintendence of Mrs. Ferrar and her 
 family, where great order was observed. 
 After dinner, the two o'clock bell sum- 
 moned the whole household to church, 
 to which they went in a regular form of 
 procession. The hours for daily service 
 in church, were half-past six for Matins, 
 ten o'clock for the Litany, and four in 
 the afternoon for the Evening Service. 
 Besides which, each hour had its ap- 
 pointed Psalms, which were said in the 
 oratories, with some portion of the Gos- 
 pels. In addition to these daily services, 
 there were nightly watchings from nine 
 to one in the morning, in each of the 
 oratories, kept by two or more persons, 
 who said the Psalms antiphonally. The 
 time of their watch being ended, they 
 went to Mr. Ferrar's door, bade him 
 good-morrow, and left a lighted candle 
 for him. At one he constantly rose and 
 betook himself to religious meditation, 
 
INTRODUCTION. xiil 
 
 founding this practice on the passage, 
 "At midnight will 1 rise and give 
 thanks." Several religious persons in 
 the neighbourhood, and from a distance, 
 joined in these watches. On the first 
 Sunday of every month, they always 
 had a Communion, which was adminis- 
 tered by the clergyman of the adjoining 
 parish, Mr. Ferrar assisting as deacon* 
 All the servants who then received the 
 Communion, when dinner was brought 
 up, remained in the room, and on that 
 day dined at the same table with Mrs* 
 Ferrar and the rest of the family. 
 
 When Mrs. Collet's four eldest daugh- 
 ters were of sufficient age, they were 
 appointed to take in turn the whole 
 charge of the domestic economy, chang- 
 ing every month, and giving in their ac- 
 counts. They had also charge of the 
 infirmary, and were employed in prepar- 
 ing medicines, and in dressing wounds. 
 
 As a variety in the system of educa- 
 tion, the seven daughters received each 
 a name, and were called, 1. The Chief. 
 2. The Patient. 3. The Cheerful. 4. 
 The Affectionate. 5. The Submiss. 
 6. The Obedient. 7. The Moderate. 
 These all had their respective characters 
 to sustain, and exercises to perform suit- 
 able to them. In the Christmas season 
 of the year 1631, discourses were com- 
 posed for the Seven Sisters, all enliven- 
 ed by hymns and odes set to music, ex- 
 cept that for the Patient, which, in order 
 to illustrate the character, had neither 
 a 7 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 verses nor anecdotes to enliven it, but 
 was throughout of a serious turn. 
 
 Besides bearing their part in the 
 night-watches, the repeating of Psalms, 
 the attendance at church, waiting on the 
 sick and poor, entertaining the school- 
 children, and all the other duties of the 
 family, its female members also filled 
 their part in executing the ingenious de- 
 signs of Nicholas Ferrar, when he form- 
 ed his Harmony on the Gospels. He 
 set apart a long spacious room, near the 
 oratory, which received the name of the 
 Concordance Chamber, and when fully 
 arranged, had tables along the sides of 
 the walls, and was provided with all the 
 instruments necessary for their work. 
 Sentences chosen by each person of the 
 family, and by some of their friends, 
 were written upon the walls, which were 
 coloured of a pleasant green, and a fire- 
 place was provided for the cold weather, 
 for they spent some hours every forenoon 
 and afternoon at this work, according as 
 they could spare the time from other 
 studies and occupations. Nicholas Fer- 
 rar instructed his nieces how to cut out 
 and arrange the passages from each 
 Evangelist, so as to perfect such a head 
 or chapter as he had designed. The 
 book was adorned with many pictures, 
 and the passages cut out were neatly fit- 
 ted, and the whole pressed and bound in 
 the presses placed in the room. 
 
 In May, 1633, the king visited Gid- 
 ding on his journey into Scotland, and 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 he afterwards sent to borrow the Con- 
 cordance, which he kept for some months, 
 and returned with notes written by him- 
 self on the margin. He also sent a re- 
 quest to Mr. Ferrar and his nieces that 
 they would make him one of these books 
 for his own use. They immediately set 
 about what the king desired, and in a 
 year's time it was presented to him by 
 Dr. Laud, then Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, and Dr. Cosin, who was then in- 
 stituted as the king's chaplain. The 
 book was bound entirely by Mary Col- 
 let, in crimson velvet, and richly gilded 
 upon the velvet in a new and splendid 
 fashion. The king being much pleased 
 with the gift, requested them to make a 
 Concordance for him of the Books of 
 Kings and Chronicles, which they did, 
 and afterwards a copy of the first book 
 for the young prince, his son ; in which 
 young Nicholas Ferrar, nephew to the 
 founder of the establishment, directed 
 the work, making a Concordance of the 
 Evangelists, in four different languages- 
 
 The family received another visit from 
 the king, accompanied by the prince his 
 son, Prince Rupert, and others, about 
 the beginning of the troubles, in 1642. 
 
 Mrs. Ferrar died in 1635, ten years 
 after she came to Gidding, at eighty- 
 three years of age. Her son, John Fer- 
 rar, describes her as having, till her 
 dying day, no infirmity, and hardly any 
 sign of old age upon her. Her hearing, 
 sight, and all her senses, were good. 
 a 8 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 She had never lost a tooth ; she walked 
 very upright, and with great agility, nor 
 was she troubled with any pains or un- 
 easiness of body. While she lived at 
 Gidding, she rose, summer and winter, 
 at five o'clock, and sometimes sooner. 
 She was of a comely presence, tall, 
 straight, and clear-complexioned to the 
 last, and had a countenance so full of 
 gravity, that it drew respect from all 
 who saw her. In her words she was 
 courteous, in her actions obliging. In 
 her diet always very temperate, saying, 
 she did not live to eat and drink, but ate 
 and drank to live. She was a pattern 
 of piety, benevolence, and charity. And 
 thus she lived and died, esteemed, re- 
 vered, and beloved of all who knew her. 
 Her son Nicholas, who, at her urgent 
 request, had abated something of his 
 austere mode of life, and considered the 
 care of his health whilst she lived, sur- 
 vived her little more than two years, and 
 died on December 2d, 1637, at one 
 o'clock in the morning, the hour at which 
 for many years he had risen to his pray- 
 ers. His nephew and namesake lived 
 only four years longer ; but the estab- 
 lishment at Gidding was not broken up 
 till near the time of the king's murder, 
 when some soldiers of the rebel army 
 plundered the house and church, after 
 the family had fled, destroyed the organ, 
 and all the manuscripts left by Nicholas 
 Ferrar, and carried away every thing of 
 value. 
 
LETTICE 
 VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 
 
 Lett ice Viscountess' Falkland wae 
 the daughter of Sir Richard Morison, 
 of Tooley Park, in Leicestershire. Her 
 -marriage to Lord Falkland is mentioned 
 bj'- Clarendon, but she is more distinctly 
 made known to us by the account of her 
 -" holy life and death," which John Dun- 
 can, a clergyman who had enjoyed her 
 •confidence, addressed after her death to 
 her mother, Lady Morison. His object 
 was, as he tells Lady Morison, to give 
 comfort to her, and satisfaction to some 
 of Lady Falkland's friends, " that the 
 most precious perfume of her name, be- 
 ing poured out like the box of spikenard, 
 might fill their houses." He confines 
 himself to a view of her character in its 
 religious aspect, and gives no particulars 
 of her life, but as they show the piety 
 and conscientiousness which ran through 
 it, to which end he relates many inter- 
 esting details, from her childhood till 
 her death. 
 
 " This elect lady," he says, "set out 
 early in the ways of God, in the dawn 
 or morning of her age ; there was care 
 taken while she was young, that she 
 should be brought up in the nurture and 
 tadmonition of the Lord ; she came not 
 a 9 
 
 • 
 
18 LETTICE 
 
 from her nurse's arms without some 
 knowledge of the principles of Christian 
 religion. 
 
 " While she was very young, she paid 
 an exact obedience to her parents, ex- 
 tending also to her aunt, who had some 
 charge over her in her father's house ; 
 and as she began, so she continued this 
 dutiful observance ; her mother never 
 could remember any one particular, in 
 which she had proved disobedient to her 
 or to her father. 
 
 " That her time might not be mis- 
 spent, nor her employments tedious to 
 her, the several hours of the day had 
 variety of employments assigned to 
 them ; intermixing of prayers, reading, 
 writing, working and walking, brought 
 a pleasure to each of them in their 
 courses," so that the day ended too soon 
 for all she had to do ; and in her early 
 youth she began to abridge herself of her 
 sleep, and was often at a book in her 
 closet, when, she was thought to be in 
 bed. 
 
 Whilst she was still very young, she 
 worked a purse to hold her own alms, 
 and would beg for money from her mo- 
 ther to fill it, as eagerly emptying it 
 again for the poor who came to her 
 father's house, and who seldom left it 
 without alms from the young daughter^ 
 as well as from her parents. 
 
 She was at this time constant in her 
 private prayers ; and when strangers 
 occupied her own room, to which sbc 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 19 
 
 commonly retired, she would ask the 
 steward for the key of some other room 
 for that purpose, at her hour of prayer. 
 " How powerful with God the lifting up 
 her pure hands every where, in this her 
 innocent childhood, was, soon appeared. 
 For while her piety and holiness was in 
 this bud, a violent attempt, there was 
 made to blast it. About the thirteenth 
 year of her age, there was a storm of 
 temptation raised in her, and some argu- 
 ments the tempter had suggested, to 
 drive her to despair of God's mercy to- 
 wards her. But God upheld this young 
 twig against such a storm, which hath 
 torn up many a fair tree : for after some 
 anguish of spirit, and patience in the 
 combat, and earnest prayers, God's grace 
 was sufficient for her : and surely it was 
 not the strength of her hands at this age, 
 but the pureness of them, which pre- 
 vailed for her." 
 
 After this conquest, her soul enjoyed 
 much peace and tranquillity ; she went 
 on most cheerfully in holy duties, tasting 
 much delight and comfort in them, and 
 her heart was at times so full, that out 
 of the abundance of it she would say, 
 " O, what an incomparable sweetness 
 there is in the music upon David's harp ! 
 O, what heavenly joy there is in those 
 psalms, and in prayers and praises to 
 God ! How amiable are the courts of 
 God's house ! how welcome the days of 
 his solemn worship !" 
 
 Nothing could hinder her from holy 
 
20 LETTICE 
 
 assemblies ; every Lord's day constantly, 
 forenoon and afternoon, she would be 
 there among the earliest ; and when she 
 had no other means of going, she would 
 walk cheerfully three or four miles a 
 day, young and tender as she then was ; 
 and at night, she reckoned the joy and 
 refreshment of which her soul had been 
 partaker, a sufficient recompense for the 
 extreme weariness of her body. 
 
 She improved her natural talents of 
 understanding and reason to a great de- 
 gree of wisdom and knowledge, by read- 
 ing good authors, and by frequent con- 
 verse with learned men. These riches, 
 of her piety, wisdom, quickness of wit, 
 discretion, judgment, sobriety and mod- 
 esty, seemed portion enough to Sir Lu- 
 cius Carey. He was the most intimate 
 friend of her brother, Henry Morison, 
 of whom he was deprived by an untimely 
 death, and soon after this loss, he sought 
 Lettice for his wife. 
 
 Sir Lucius, though not yet of age, was 
 in possession of a large estate, left to him 
 by Chief Baron Tanfield, his mother's 
 father, of which he became master when 
 he was nineteen. Being thus well able 
 to marry, and being passionately attached 
 to Lettice Morison, he married her 
 without any large portion, and by doing 
 so offended his father, who had hoped to 
 make some advantageous match for his 
 son, and so to restore his own ruined 
 fortune and disappointed hopes at court. 
 The son could not regret a marriage 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 21 
 
 which brought him entire happiness, by 
 the extraordinary wit and judgment, the 
 signal virtue and exemplary conduct of 
 his wife ; but he felt keenly his father's 
 displeasure, earnestly entreated his par- 
 don ; and to make up for the injury he 
 had brought upon his fortune by choos- 
 ing an ill-portioned wife, he offered to 
 give up to him the estate left by his 
 grandfather, and rely only upon his kind- 
 ness for his own maintenance. For this 
 purpose he caused conveyances to be 
 drawn up, and brought them ready en- 
 grossed to his father, willing to seal and 
 execute them. But all reconciliation 
 was refused, and the offer of the estate 
 rejected, so that he remained in posses- 
 sion of it against his own will ; and in his 
 grief at his father's displeasure, he went 
 with his wife into Holland, resolving to 
 buy some military command. But being 
 disappointed in this, and finding no op- 
 portunity to fulfil his intention, he re- 
 turned again to England, and resolved 
 to retire to a country life, and to his 
 books. 
 
 The house where he usually resided, 
 was one left him by his grandfather, at 
 Great Tew, or Burford, in Oxfordshire ; 
 he was so earnest in pursuing his studies 
 in the country, that he determined not 
 to see London, the place in which he 
 took the most delight, till he had per- 
 fected himself in the Greek language. 
 This resolution he was obliged to break, 
 by a sudden accident which happened to 
 
22 
 
 his father in 1633, two years after his 
 marriage ; but after completing the busi- 
 ness which followed upon his father's 
 death, he returned again into the coun- 
 try. He now succeeded to the title of 
 Viscount Falkland, from which he gained 
 only increase, of expense, not of income ; 
 yet he exercised continued acts of gen- 
 erosity and hospitality. Living within 
 ten or twelve miles of Oxford, his house 
 was the resort of all the learned and emi- 
 nent men of the University, Dr. Shel- 
 don, Dr. Morley, Dr. Hammond, Dr. 
 Earle, Mr. Chillingworth, besides such 
 as came thither from London ; all these 
 found constant entertainment, without 
 inquiry from the master of the house as 
 to their coming and going, studied in his 
 library, where they found all the books 
 they could need, and enjoyed the society 
 which he had thus formed. 
 
 His friend, Lord Clarendon, who de- 
 scribes this happy conversation and re- 
 tirement in which Lord Falkland spent 
 many years, does not particularly men- 
 tion the lady of the mansion, though he 
 speaks with great warmth of Lord Falk- 
 land's happy choice in making her his 
 wife ; nor does he mention her with re- 
 gard to the political affairs in which his 
 friend was afterwards engaged, or the 
 difference that ma}' have been produced 
 in her mode of life, by his occupations 
 in London. Her biographer, Duncan, 
 says, that by her marriage with him, 
 riches, honour, and all other worldly 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 23 
 
 prosperity, flowed in upon her, and made 
 it a harder task to proceed in virtue and 
 godliness, since it is more difficult when 
 riches increase, not to set the heart upon 
 them. 
 
 Yet God enabled her, he says, to do 
 this also ; for when possession was given 
 her of stately palaces, pleasantly situ- 
 ated, and most curiously and fully fur- 
 nished, and of revenues answerable, her 
 friends could never perceive that her 
 heart was exalted by any of them, whilst 
 she acknowledged God's great goodness 
 towards her, in giving them. 
 
 There were even some who were dis- 
 pleased by the little satisfaction she ex- 
 pressed in all her worldly prosperity ; 
 and then she would attribute much of 
 her indifference to a disposition towards 
 melancholy, proceeding from ill health. 
 
 Thus some years passed, during which 
 time, she was most constant at prayers 
 and sermons, and frequently received the 
 blessed sacrament ; and although now 
 and then she did not feel her usual spi- 
 ritual comforts, but instead of them, had 
 some anguish and bitterness of spirit ; 
 yet, by the advice of good divines, and 
 by her ordinary help of prayer, she soon 
 recovered her peace and joy. 
 
 The first abatement of her prosperity, 
 was when her husband took arms for the 
 king, and she was separated from him 
 whom she loved more than all other 
 things in the world. A heavier affliction 
 followed, when on September 20, 1643, 
 
24 
 
 he fell fighting valiantly at the battle of 
 Newbury. Beloved and honoured as he 
 was by his friend, the grief of his wife 
 must have been even more overwhelm- 
 ing, when, after ten years of happy 
 union, she was left thus widowed with 
 the tare of their three young sons. But 
 she received the blow as a loud call from 
 heaven, to further advancement in holi- 
 ness, fearing at the same time, that it 
 might be also a punishment for her sins, 
 and therefore strictly searching out 
 every corner of her heart, and repenting 
 anew of all her past offences. 
 
 She then addressed herself to a divine 
 of great eminence for piety and learning, 
 and from him she took directions for a 
 more strict course of life in this her 
 widowhood, than she had hitherto pur- 
 sued. Though the greatest and most 
 important part of her Christian work 
 was locked up close within herself, and 
 some of it carefully concealed for fear 
 of vainglory, yet much of it appeared by 
 the effects, and so came abroad for the 
 good of others. 
 
 Her first and great employment, was 
 to read and understand, and then to the 
 utmost of her strength to practise our 
 blessed Saviour's Sermon on the Mount, 
 in the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters 
 of St. Matthew's Gospel ; and having 
 read over a most complete, though com- 
 pendious Comment upon that Sermon, 
 she set forthwith upon the work of prac- 
 tising it, beginning with those virtues to 
 which the Beatitudes are annexed. 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 25 
 
 Her mercifulness was one of those vir- 
 tues which she could not conceal from 
 observation ; much of her estate went 
 yearly to such of her relations as were 
 in need of assistance ; some of her near 
 neighbours, who were too old or too 
 young for work, were wholly maintained 
 by her ; to other poor children she con- 
 tributed much, both for their spiritual 
 and temporal well-being, by building a 
 school, where they were taught to read 
 and work. It was her great care in the 
 management of her estate, that no man, 
 woman or child, should want employ- 
 ment ; and to this she had more regard 
 than to her own profit, as by such con- 
 stant work, she kept them both from 
 want and idleness. 
 
 As to the poor at home, and strangers 
 at the door, she was very charitable in 
 feeding the hungry and refreshing the 
 poor and weak ; for clothing the naked, 
 she might be sometimes seen going up 
 and down her house, begging clothes 
 from her servants, which she repaid af- 
 terwards with new, that the poor might 
 not go naked or cold from her door; so 
 that she was not only a liberal almoner 
 to the poor, but also an earnest solicitor 
 for them. When it was objected that 
 many idle and wicked people were by 
 this course of charity relieved at her 
 house, her answer was, " I know not 
 their hearts, and in their outward car- 
 riage and speech, they all appear to me 
 good and virtuous ; and I had rather re- 
 
26 
 
 lieve five unworthy vagrants, than that 
 one member of Christ should go empty 
 away." 
 
 And as for harbouring strangers, the 
 many inconveniences apt to result from 
 it could not deter her from entertaining 
 them, sometimes for several weeks to- 
 gether. 
 
 She would also send plentiful relief to 
 prisoners, and needy persons at London 
 and Oxford, with a strict charge that it 
 should not be known from whence it 
 came, and it was not till after her death 
 that these charities came to light. 
 
 Nor was her mercifulness bounded 
 within the limits of friends, but extend- 
 ed to her enemies ; for when many of 
 them were taken prisoners by the king's 
 soldiers, she consulted how she might 
 send relief to them ; and on the objection 
 being made, that such an action would 
 raise jealousies in some minds of her 
 loyalty to the king, she answered, "No 
 man wiil suspect my loyalty, because I 
 relieve these prisoners ; but he would 
 suspect my Christianity, if he should 
 see me relieve a needy Turk or Jew : 
 however, I had rather be so misunder- 
 stood, (if this my secret alms should be 
 known,) than that any of mine enemies 
 (the worst of them) should perish for 
 want of it." 
 
 Her mercifulness was constantly ex- 
 ercised towards the sick ; she spent large 
 sums of money every year in providing 
 antidotes against infection, cordials, and 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 27 
 
 various sorts of medicine, which she 
 distributed among her neighbours when 
 they were in need of them, attending 
 herself to their wants with skill and care, 
 hiring nurses when they were required, 
 frequently visiting the poorest cottagers, 
 waiting on their sick beds, and carrying 
 books of spiritual exhortations, which 
 she read to them with words of holy 
 counsel. She considered it the fit season 
 for sowing good seed when their hearts 
 were softened by sorrow and sickness, 
 and at such times she would go daily 
 to their sick beds, and has been seen sit- 
 ting in a cottage, waiting till a sick wo- 
 man woke from sleep, that she might go 
 on with her reading. 
 
 At a later time, when she was too weak 
 and sickly to do this in person, she would 
 depute some of her friends or servants, 
 daily to visit the sick and carry her 
 books with them, in which employment 
 most of her family, who appeared fit for 
 it, were engaged from time to time. 
 
 Thus to her works of corporal mercy, 
 she added spiritual mercy too, relieving 
 the wants of the body and of the soul 
 together, and seeking to promote the 
 health of both. For as the handmaid of 
 her Lord, she strove to follow both the 
 precepts of His Sermon and also the 
 pattern of His life, when He cured at 
 once the diseases both of soul and body. 
 
 As she was eminent for mercifulness, 
 so she was for meekness also ; for though 
 remarkable for her clearness of under- 
 
28 LETTICE 
 
 standing, she was as far from self-conceit 
 as from ignorance. It was her habit 
 when any subject was discussed, to offer 
 her objections till every argument she 
 could think of had been answered ; when 
 this had been done, she made no further 
 difficulty, but cheerfully and readily 
 submitted. Her understanding leading 
 the way in meekness, her will cheerfully 
 followed ; and bending her will as soon 
 as her understanding was satisfied, she 
 seldom refused to do what she was con- 
 vinced was fit to be done. 
 
 Her greater difficulty was with her 
 affections ; she would often complain 
 that her natural temper inclined her to 
 anger, and being so well aware of it, 
 she most diligently observed herself, and 
 in a great measure conquered that frow- 
 ard inclination ; the good measure of 
 meekness in this respect which she at- 
 tained to, being the more commendable 
 because of the many difficulties she met 
 with in the endeavour. 
 
 As for peaceableness, as much as in 
 her lay, she had peace with all men ; 
 she suffered herself to be defrauded and 
 damaged in her estate, rather than she 
 would disquiet a debtor by suits at law ; 
 for " peace is equivalent," she said, " to 
 the sum detained." Whilst she avoided 
 lawsuits herself, she endeavoured also to 
 make peace between her neighbours by 
 all her art and power. On one occasion 
 when she thought that a contention was 
 likely to arise about the choice of a par- 
 
TISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 29 
 
 ish officer, she hired one herself, and so 
 kept all peaceable and quiet. 
 
 Thus she hungered and thirsted after 
 peace, and after righteousness too : as 
 the chased and wearied hart pants for 
 the water brooks, so her soul seemed to 
 long after righteousness, frequently pant- 
 ing, " Oh why am I not ? oh how shall 
 I be ? oh when shall I be perfect, as my 
 Heavenly Father is perfect ? " 
 
 And for patient suffering : in the latter 
 part of her life she was seldom free from 
 some trouble ; spiritual afflictions and 
 sorrow, or bodily infirmities, of weakness 
 and sickness, or worldly losses in her 
 estate ; one or more of these, or the like 
 pressures were constantly heavy upon 
 her, yet no impatience, and little dis- 
 turbance, could be perceived in her ; but 
 when all these trials were at once pres- 
 ent, her patience triumphed over them all. 
 
 Some persons thought her in love with 
 suffering, when she refused to pay con- 
 tribution money against the king, and 
 suffered her stock of great value to be 
 seized, rather than to pay some little tax 
 which was demanded ; it seemed to such 
 observers, that, not content with carry- 
 ing the cross if it was laid upon her, she 
 went to meet it ; but she was willing to 
 suffer loss rather than blemish her obe- 
 dience and loyalty ; so that till the king 
 himself granted her an indulgence, she 
 refused to pay contribution to the neigh- 
 bouring garrisons, "which were against 
 him. 
 
30 LETTICE 
 
 Still amidst all her virtues, a poverty 
 of spirit was seen in her, for she bewail- 
 ed her weaknesses and spiritual wants ; 
 and when those about her wished, as 
 they sometimes did, that they were as 
 forward in the ways of religion as they 
 saw her, she would answer, " Oh ye are 
 not so backward ! yet wish yourselves 
 better ! ye know not how vile and cor- 
 rupt my heart is." 
 
 Thus thinking herself still a beginner, 
 she practised daily those graces and 
 virtues to which our Saviour annexed 
 such special blessings, and studied to be- 
 come more and more perfect in them. 
 
 With equal diligence she practised the 
 duty of prayer enjoined in the same ser- 
 mon of our Lord, spending some hours 
 every day in her private devotions and 
 meditations ; these were called by her 
 family her busy hours ; Martha's em- 
 ployment was her recreation, Mary's 
 her business. 
 
 Her maids came into her chamber 
 early every morning, and usually passed 
 an hour with her, when she prayed, 
 catechised, and instructed. To this 
 were daily added the morning and even- 
 ing prayers of the Church, before dinner 
 and supper ; and another form of prayer, 
 together with reading the Scriptures and 
 singing psalms, before bed-time. 
 
 She charged her servants to be pres- 
 ent at all these hours of prayer if their 
 business allowed of it, but never suffer- 
 ed any one to be absent from all the 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 31 
 
 services ; if she observed any such, she 
 sent for them into her chamber and 
 prayed with them privately, making it 
 a rule that at least every morning and 
 evening, every servant in her house 
 should offer the sacrifice of prayer and 
 praises to God. Nor did she limit the 
 services of her house to her own house- 
 hold, but opened her oratory to her 
 neighbours as freely as her hospitable 
 hall. 
 
 On the Lord's day she rose earlier 
 than on other days, but often found the 
 day too short for her private duties, and 
 instructions of her children and servants, 
 so that she would sometimes rise on 
 Monday two or three hours before day- 
 light, to supply what was left undone the 
 day before. 
 
 In order also to prepare herself for the 
 Sunday's duty beforehand, she seques- 
 tered herself on the Saturday from com- 
 pany and worldly business, and seldom 
 came out of her closet till towards even- 
 ing, when her chaplain catechised in ad- 
 dition to the usual service of prayer. 
 
 She punctually observed the other" 
 Holy Days of the Church, and after the 
 public service, she released her servants 
 to their recreations, and the care of their 
 own concerns, saying, " These days are 
 yours, and as due to you, as ordinary 
 days to my employments." On these 
 days of rest, she went with her books to 
 her unlearned neighbours, who were at 
 leisure to hear her read, whilst their 
 plough and their wheel stood still. 
 
32 LETTICE 
 
 She strictly observed the Fasts of the 
 Church, and such days as were appoint- 
 ed for solemn humiliation, which her 
 whole family, great and small, observed 
 after* the pattern of the Ninevites. 
 When the calamities of the country in- 
 creased, she often wished that lawful 
 authority would appoint not only the 
 second Friday, but the last Wednesday 
 in every month, to be kept solemnly 
 throughout the land, that their fasts 
 might be doubled as well as their trou- 
 bles. 
 
 She was very careful in preparing 
 herself to receive the Sacrament of the 
 Lord's Supper; often, at such times, 
 fears and scruples arose within her, 
 tending to keep her back from that 
 heavenly banquet : but having cause 
 on examination, and after advising with 
 her minister, to consider them tempta- 
 tions from the devil, she put them by, 
 and presented herself with a humble 
 and trembling heart at that blessed Sac- 
 rament. These fears and scruples, so 
 far from prevailing to keep her from the 
 Lord's table, occasioned a steadfast reso- 
 lution on her part, that she would not, 
 by God's help, thenceforth omit any op- 
 portunity of communicating ; this reso- 
 lution she always kept at home, and if 
 she went to Oxford or London, her first 
 inquiry was, where and when there 
 would be a Communion, to secure which 
 she would sometimes go to the other end 
 of the city. 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 33 
 
 She exhorted all her servants to ac- 
 company her to the Sacrament ; and 
 those who were prevailed upon, gave in 
 their names two or three days before, 
 that she might instruct them herself, and 
 obtain the help of her chaplains to ex- 
 amine them and instruct them further ; 
 for which purpose, the day before their 
 receiving was free from their ordinary 
 work. When they had received, she 
 called them together again, and gave 
 them such exhortations as were proper 
 for them. 
 
 " This very care and piety in family 
 duties," says Duncan, " was so highly 
 esteemed of in Abraham, that God made 
 him one of his privy-council (as I may 
 so say) for that alone. (Gen. xviii. 17.) 
 And might not the singular wisdom, and 
 deep knowledge of divine councils, and 
 heavenly mysteries, which this daughter 
 of Abraham had, be a reward of that 
 care to instruct her children and house- 
 hold in the ways of God ?" 
 
 It appears that at this time Duncan, 
 being sequestered from his cure of Rat- 
 tendon in Essex, was living in Lady 
 Falkland's house as her chaplain, "with 
 full accommodations and plentiful con- 
 veniences;" and in return, as he says, 
 for "reaping carnal things," he endeav- 
 oured to sow " spiritual things." His 
 account of her mode of life during her 
 widowhood was written from his own 
 personal observation ; and her habits, as 
 it appears, were cultivated under his 
 
34 LETTICE 
 
 guidance. He found her " afflicted 
 with a barrenness of soul, wanting in- 
 ward comforts ;" and after frequent con- 
 versations with her, in which he learned 
 all her objections against herself, and 
 saw the sorrows of her heart, he wrote 
 for her benefit a series of letters, under 
 the title of "The Returns of Spiritual 
 Comfort and Grief, in a Devout Soul." 
 These letters, though first composed for 
 her, were adapted to more general use 
 by the author before he published them, 
 and therefore in their present form can 
 hardly be taken as a picture of Lady 
 Falkland's mind. Only the first of them 
 contains so much more detail of circum- 
 stances, and agrees so well with his de- 
 scription of her devotional habits as given 
 in her life, that though, judging by the 
 pronoun at the end, his correspondent 
 must be supposed to be a man ; ("I de- 
 sire your prayers for him, who is yours 
 in the Lord,") yet it seems likely that, 
 in the first instance, Duncan took the 
 particulars mentioned in this letter from 
 his intercourse with Lady Falkland, at 
 some period of her life. 
 
 " Your spiritual directions I have ob- 
 served as punctually as I could ; I am 
 present at all public assemblies in the 
 house of God, and bear my part con- 
 stantly in that solemn worship of his 
 name. And to these public devotions, I 
 add private prayers with my family, 
 morning and evening, and to them secret 
 in my closet, and these duties I perform 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 35 
 
 constantly. Neither am I less constant 
 at sermons, and catechisings, and at the 
 Holy Sacrament of our most blessed 
 Lord's body and blood, though I cannot 
 be so frequent at these duties ; those I 
 can hear but once a week, this I can re- 
 ceive but once a month. And on days 
 of humiliation, I labour to intermix more 
 earnest as well as more frequent pray- 
 ers, for the public necessities, and for 
 mine own private wants ; endeavouring 
 to observe the ordinary and extraordi- 
 nary Fasts of the Church, as strictly as 
 my weak body and my weaker flesh will 
 give me leave. Now I miss those op- 
 portunities I had at Court and at the 
 Cathedral Church ; either of those places 
 afforded public prayers thrice every day, 
 and lectures also on the week days. 
 Nay, it is not here so well with me, as 
 it was when you and I lived together in 
 that country village, where the good 
 parson had morning and evening prayer 
 in the parish church, twice a day con- 
 tinually ; where I now live, we have this 
 advantage of public prayer only on the 
 Lord's day and its eve, and on holy 
 days and their eves, and on Wednesdays 
 and Fridays, our wonted Litany days ; 
 now I find not that other analogy be- 
 tween our prayers and the incense and 
 perfumers of the Tabernacle, that as 
 those were, so these are now offered up 
 daily." 
 
 In some verses written in her praise, 
 it is said that " Featley's Handmaid her 
 
36 
 
 attendant was," from which it would 
 appear that the book published by that 
 divine, under the name of the " Hand- 
 maid to Private Devotion," was habitu- 
 ally used by her in her retirements. 
 While she persevered in the religious 
 course of life which she embraced in her 
 widowhood, going on from grace to 
 grace, from virtue to virtue, a fresh 
 affliction was sent to quicken her. Her 
 young and most dear son Lorenzo, whom 
 God had endowed with choice natural 
 abilities, and who showed such fair blos- 
 soms of piety as made her affections 
 towards him more tender, was taken 
 from her. 
 
 This, added to her former troubles, — 
 the loss of her husband, her crosses in 
 the world, and her spiritual affliction, 
 (which came often upon her,) — made her 
 burden most heavy. She wept and 
 mourned all the day long, and at night 
 also watered her couch with tears, and 
 weeping she would say, " Ah ! this im- 
 moderate sorrow must be repented of, 
 these tears wept over again !" Her 
 quick sense of displeasing God by ex- 
 treme grief soon allayed its vehemence. 
 She retired into herself to hearken what 
 the Lord would say unto her, in this 
 louder call of affliction ; and it seemed 
 to be prompted to her that she was not 
 yet weaned enough from the things of 
 this world, and it was expedient for her 
 that some of the worldly comforts she 
 most delighted in should be taken away, 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 37 
 
 that her conversation might be yet more 
 spiritual and heavenly; therefore this af- 
 fliction seemed to call her to a greater 
 mortification to the world, and a nearer 
 conformity to Christ her Lord. 
 
 But fearing that her sorrow for her 
 son was still exorbitant, she went again 
 to ask counsel of her ghostly physician, 
 the same eminent divine, as it appears, 
 whom she consulted after her husband's 
 death. She acquainted him with the 
 violence of those fits of sorrow which 
 of late had seized upon her for the death 
 of her son, and he, by his good counsel, 
 with God's help, cured this new distem- 
 per of hers, prescribing antidotes also to 
 prevent a lapse into this malady of ex- 
 cessive grief. 
 
 She returned home, confessing that 
 this very affliction was most fit for her, 
 and that it should turn to her profit ; 
 and, cheered by this confidence, it was 
 observed by those who saw her on ker 
 return, that a remarkable change had 
 come over her, as great as that which 
 passed upon Hannah when Eli promised 
 a son in answer to her prayers. 
 
 Thus God made the spiritual medicine 
 she had received effectual, and the anti- 
 dote too ; for while she lamented the 
 excess of her grief, she did not again 
 give way to it. She used her newly 
 regained cheerfulness in making resolu- 
 tions of farther progress in holiness, and 
 set about running the last stages of her 
 Christian race with greater speed than 
 b 
 
38 
 
 any former ones. Yet before she began 
 upon the fulfilment of these new pur- 
 poses, she was tried by a fresh tempta- 
 tion ; she feared that her repentance 
 was not sincere enough to be acceptable 
 to God, and reasoned thus with herself: 
 " My grief for my sins has not been so 
 vehement as that for my son's death ; I 
 wept not so bitterly for them, as I did 
 for that ; and therefore my repentance is 
 not acceptable." 
 
 In this anguish of spirit, she hastened 
 again to her learned friend, begging for 
 his counsel ; and having received comfort 
 from his prayers and conversation, she 
 returned home with fresh courage and 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 This temptation to despondency being 
 overcome, she entered upon the per- 
 formance of her resolutions, in obedience 
 to the call of her last afflictions. The 
 vanity of apparel she had cut off long 
 before, and after her husband's death, 
 the richness of it too ; and what she 
 spared in this, she bestowed upon the 
 poor members of Christ. She now be- 
 gan to cut off all other worldly pomp ; 
 she gave up that state which belonged 
 to her rank, in her house, in her retinue, 
 and at her table, and took more delight 
 in seeing her revenues spent among a 
 crowd of alms-men and women at her 
 door, than by a throng of servants in her 
 house. 
 
 She made renewed efforts to subdue 
 all disposition towards anger, avoiding 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 39 
 
 for that purpose any conversation which 
 might excite it ; and stifling it, if it 
 arose, either by silence or turning to 
 some other subject. She undertook at 
 the same time the difficult task of taming 
 the tongue ; and for this purpose re- 
 frained for a while from speech almost 
 entirely, then loosened it a little, with 
 two cautions : 
 
 First, that it should " never speak 
 evil of any man, though truly, but only 
 upon a design of charity, to reclaim him 
 from that evil." And because a vicious 
 man is seldom reclaimed by any thing 
 said against him in his absence, she 
 gave peremptory charge to her tongue, 
 that it should never speak evil of any 
 man, however notoriously wicked, if he 
 was absent and not likely to be amended 
 by it. 
 
 The second caution her tongue re- 
 ceived was, that " as much as was pos- 
 sible, it should keep in every idle word, 
 and speak out only that which was to 
 edification." So that in the latter part 
 of her life she seldom spoke but on sub- 
 jects relating to the concerns of the soul, 
 seldom even with her friends and neigh- 
 bours on any worldly matters. She took 
 the same care in writing as in speaking, 
 and suffered not a vain nor idle word to 
 slip from her pen. She avoided also 
 any thing like compliments in her letters, 
 and would not subscribe herself " your 
 servant," to any one to whom she was 
 not really so. 
 
 y b 2 
 
40 LETTICE 
 
 She was as temperate in food or in- 
 dulgence of the body as in speech, soon 
 satisfied with meat or drink, with sleep 
 and ease, as far from daintiness as from 
 intemperance, and that, not only out of 
 care to her health and respect to God's 
 commandment, but from a consciousness, 
 as she would now and then intimate, 
 that she was unworthy to enjoy any 
 thing, for quantity or quality, above the 
 meanest in the parish. 
 
 Together with these mortifications of 
 her pomp and state, and of her appetites, 
 she now also severely undertook the 
 mortification of her natural affection to 
 her children and friends, saying to some 
 of those who were dearest to her, " O, 
 love me not, I pray, too much ! And 
 God grant I never love my friends too 
 much hereafter ; that hath cost me dear, 
 and my heart hath smarted sore with 
 grief for it already." She resigned her 
 will and understanding as well as her 
 affections, more and more completely to 
 the will, and to the wisdom of God. 
 *' Whatsoever comes upon me," she said, 
 ** I will bear it patiently, because by 
 God's will it eomes ; yea, I will bear it 
 cheerfully, because by God's wisdom it 
 is thus ordered, and it will work (as ail 
 things else) for mine advantage." 
 
 Therefore she considered the death of 
 her husband, and of her son, as real 
 benefits to her, and would say, " I should 
 offend not only against free obedience 
 and submission, but also against common 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 41 
 
 prudence, if I should wish my condition 
 otherwise than now it is ; I cannot wish 
 any thing so gainful and prosperous to 
 me as this, which my Heavenly Father 
 in His wisdom hath ordered for me." 
 
 She resigned herself wholly to God, 
 in doing as well as in suffering, and made 
 it her object in every thing, to ascertain 
 first, what was her duty, and then to 
 fulfil it. When matters of difficulty 
 came, she usually consulted with the 
 most learned and pious divines she could 
 meet with, and after hearing their opin- 
 ion, applied herself to follow it, what- 
 ever inconvenience might happen to her- 
 self. If the success of any business did 
 not answer her expectation, she showed 
 no trouble, provided her conscience bore 
 her witness that she had done what was 
 her duty to do ; and seeing it was God 
 who denied her success, she would still 
 hope, and say, " Though at this time, 
 this way, this business prospered not, 
 yet at some other time, some other way, 
 it will be successful unto me. This do- 
 ing my duty will be, some time or other, 
 some way or other, for mine advan- 
 tage." 
 
 She endeavoured to practise more 
 fully than before, those precepts of the 
 Sermon on the Mount, which she had 
 already taken as her rule, increasing in 
 mercifulness : for whereas, before, the 
 main of her revenue was for her own 
 maintenance, the superfluity of it for her 
 charity, now she reversed this order, and 
 b 3 
 
42 LETTICE 
 
 after reckoning up such sums as were to 
 be spent quarterly on charitable pur- 
 poses, the small pittance which remained 
 she accounted her own, and ordered her 
 course of life accordingly ; " very well 
 content, though she herself made a shift 
 with Agur's single food and raiment, 
 (Prov. xxx. 8.,) that others, who de- 
 pended on her, should (as the household 
 of Lemuel's virtuous woman) be fed, 
 and clothed with double. Prov. xxxi. 
 21." 
 
 Her meekness increased also till she 
 was clothed with it as a robe, covering 
 her with the beauty of a meek and quiet 
 spirit. Her compassions, deep as they 
 were before, grew more and more ten- 
 der, bringing tears to her eyes when she 
 saw or heard of distress, and opening 
 her hand wide for the comfort of the 
 poor and needy. Where her hand of 
 charity could not reach, her feelings of 
 compassion found their way ; and those 
 who sat with her at meals, saw the 
 earnestness of her sorrow, when the 
 miseries of the Church and kingdom 
 were the subject of conversation. 
 
 She was almost pined with hunger, 
 and faint with thirst, after righteousness ; 
 ever and anon sighing, " O, that I could 
 attain unto it ! O, that my ways were 
 made so direct!" It was usual with 
 her at night to compose herself to sleep, 
 saying to her woman, not without some 
 joy, " Well, now I am one day nearer 
 my journey's end :" comforting herself, 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 43 
 
 that when her body should sleep in the 
 bed of her grave, then the days of sin 
 would be finished, and then she should 
 be perfect, as her Heavenly Father is 
 perfect. 
 
 She read a learned strict treatise on 
 Justice, and made its rules her standard, 
 practising them most precisely ; and in 
 more perplexed and difficult cases, she 
 would send to some divines, of whose 
 piety and fervour she had a good opinion, 
 and desire them to pray as she herself 
 did, that she might act justly, swerving 
 neither to the right hand nor to the left. 
 
 Once, during her absence from home, 
 the sutlers of the army came to her 
 house, and took provisions, paying for 
 every thing that they took the highest 
 price, for which her servant accounted to 
 her on her return ; she then reckoned up 
 exactly what each article had cost her, 
 and sent carefully up and down the army 
 to find the sutlers, and to restore the 
 overplus, which she thought it not just 
 in her to keep, nor was her hunger and 
 thirst after that instance of justice satis- 
 fied, till she heard that the money was 
 repaid. 
 
 For the other points of our Saviour's 
 Sermon, her charity suspected few, and 
 judged none of her neighbours ; she had 
 an eagle's eye to espy any good, if only 
 inclination to good that they had in them, 
 but a mole's eye to evil in her brethren, 
 were it even shown in actions. Her 
 slowness to believe ill reports drove all 
 b 4 
 
44 
 
 tale bearers away from her; yet when 
 faults were evident in such as she had 
 charge over, she would reprove them 
 with a great deal of power. 
 
 She was most respectful to her supe- 
 riors, courteous and affable towards in- 
 feriors, cautious of giving offence, either 
 by word or gesture, and as cautious lest 
 any one should take offence at any 
 speech or look of hers towards them ; 
 for either way she said, "in offences 
 given or taken, God is offended." Her 
 humility in begging forgiveness from 
 others was most singular ; during the 
 latter part of her life, she seldom slept 
 till she had asked forgiveness as well as 
 blessing, from her mother, that if she 
 had in any way offended her, she might 
 be sure of her pardon. 
 
 But that which more astonished the 
 inmates of her house, was to see this 
 noble lady begging forgiveness from her 
 inferiors and servants, for her angry 
 words or chiding frowns towards them ; 
 and sometimes asking their pardon when 
 she had expressed no anger outwardly, 
 because, said she, " somewhat I felt 
 within myself, too like anger towards 
 you, though I suppressed it as soon as I 
 could." 
 
 More than once or twice before her 
 last illness, she was in her closet upon 
 her knees ready for her prayers, when 
 she remembered that her "brother" 
 might possibly have somewhat against 
 her, for a word, or a look, or a negligent 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 45 
 
 silence a little while before, and then 
 she rose and went to ask pardon before 
 she proceeded to her prayers, that she 
 might strictly observe our Lord's injunc- 
 tion to those who bring a gift to his al- 
 tar ; so that it was always her chief care 
 to lift up pure hands in prayer, without 
 wrath, and to have it allayed either in 
 herself, or in others towards her, before 
 she offered her gift of prayer. 
 
 Whilst all these graces and virtues by 
 God's help grew in her, a true poverty 
 of spirit grew along with them. The 
 more holy she was, the more humbly 
 she walked with God ; in her greatest 
 abundance she complained most of spir- 
 itual wants. It seemed that the bright 
 lustre of her virtue gave her light to 
 spy out corruptions in herself, which 
 she could not see before, and these she 
 lamented more sadly now than for- 
 merly. 
 
 She advanced at the same time in her 
 duties of prayer. She added an. oratory 
 to her nursery, and her children had 
 private devotions appointed for them by 
 herself; they read Morning and Evening 
 Prayers and Lessons, at their rising up 
 and at their lying down, and their spare 
 minutes were destined, like her own, to 
 learning Psalms out of books. They 
 opened the day with one of the seven 
 Eucharistical Psalms, that they might 
 thank God for renewing His loving- 
 kindness to them in the morning, and 
 they closed the day with one of the 
 b 5 
 
46 LETTICE 
 
 seven Penitential Psalms,* that they 
 might ask pardon for the offences com- 
 mitted in the course of it. She took 
 care to season their affections and memo- 
 ries with good things ; she trained them 
 up to the practice of those virtues com- 
 mended in the Sermon on the Mount, 
 and directed that an explanation of it 
 should be annexed to their first Cate- 
 chism. 
 
 There were some who objected to the 
 continuance of the Church Service in 
 her house, and apprehended that danger 
 would be incurred by continuing it. To 
 quiet their fears, the story of the Lady 
 Knevit in Norfolk, at the time of Queen 
 Mary, was publicly read in her house- 
 hold. The story is this. A persecuted 
 minister of the English Church, being 
 in Lady Knevit's house, read the Morn- 
 ing and Evening Prayer of King Edward 
 the Vlth's Prayer Book constantly in 
 her family, though there was an act of 
 Parliament against it. Hereupon the 
 holy lady was threatened to be punished 
 for it, but went on, notwithstanding, in 
 that course of piety, promising to wel- 
 come the punishment whenever it came ; 
 and though many persons resorted to her 
 house who were ill-affected to that form 
 of prayer, yet they commonly knelt 
 down and joined in prayers with her ; 
 nor did they offer her any molestation in 
 the performance of this duty. 
 
 * Ps. 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, and 143, 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 47 
 
 Every passage in this story was so 
 applicable to Lady Falkland's case, that 
 she wanted neither an answer to object- 
 ors, nor courage to go on in her wonted 
 course ; and the event was the same as 
 in Lady Knevit's case ; for though com- 
 plaints were made, threats were sent to 
 her, and many persons quartered upon 
 her who liked not the form of prayer 
 and had power to suppress it, yet, by 
 God's good providence, that power of 
 theirs was not used against her. 
 
 She was as constant and as resolute 
 in her other hours of prayer and medita- 
 tion. The entertainment of guests, or 
 the haste of necessary business, did not 
 detain her from these devotions ; in her 
 deepest griefs and disturbances, in her 
 highest comforts and rejoicings, she was 
 most constant at them ; and even if she ' 
 could not discharge these duties at her 
 accustomed hours, yet her eyes were not 
 suffered to sleep till she had gone through 
 them. When she must lose her sleep, 
 or God this His service, she readily de- 
 cided which was fittest of the two. 
 
 Her last work every evening, was to 
 eview with diligence all the works of 
 that day, her thoughts, words and deeds; 
 what had happened in this room or in 
 that, what in this or that company, what 
 good or evil she had done, what oppor- 
 tunities of benefiting others she had em- 
 braced or neglected ; what comforts and 
 blessings she had that day received ; 
 and after this examination, giving thanks 
 b 6 
 
48 LETTieE 
 
 and begging pardon in every particular 
 as occasion required, having communed 
 with her own heart in her bed-chamber, 
 she was still. 
 
 Thus she made proficiency in the 
 several points of our Saviour's Sermon; 
 and whilst increasing in faith and judg- 
 ment, the weightier matters of the law, 
 she would not leave the lesser undone. 
 
 She thought the laws of God were not 
 all performed, if any laws of the king 
 were neglected ; and therefore she was 
 wont earnestly to press obedience to all 
 things required by the laws of the king- 
 dom : even to penal laws against shoot- 
 ing and hunting, and the like ; and would 
 not suffer any person belonging to her, to 
 transgress in these lesser matters, ob- 
 serving, " That the lawgivers made their 
 'penal laws for obedience, not for mulct, 
 and their first and chief endeavour was, 
 that their laws should be observed, not 
 that the offender should be punished." 
 
 Having thus far improved herself, by 
 the grace of God, in a holy and spiritual 
 life, she now laboured to improve others 
 also, and being made strong, to strength- 
 en her brethren. She entered into an 
 agreement with her acquaintance, espe- 
 cially those with whom she conversed 
 most frequently, that they should take 
 liberty to reprove whatever they saw 
 wrong in her, and also that they should 
 give her the same liberty with them, 
 saying to them, " There is no friendship 
 without this ; and if you suffer me to be 
 
VISCOUNTESS PALKLAND. 49 
 
 undone forever, or I you, — how are we 
 friends ? " 
 
 She had an intimate acquaintance with 
 some strict Papists', and some still stricter 
 Nonconformists ; but remaining unbias- 
 sed by their opinions, she earnestly la- 
 boured to bring them each from their 
 errors, and not without happy success. 
 In other instances also, she won back 
 members of our Church of England, who 
 had been tempted to Rome or to Geneva* 
 But the improvement of her nearer 
 friends was her constant labour. 
 
 The warning which she gave to young 
 mothers, not to exceed in fondness for 
 their husbands and children, came suit- 
 ably and afTectingly*from her. " Oh, I 
 have had my portion," said she, " of 
 these very comforts : with the first, no 
 one woman more ; but there is no lasting 
 nor true pleasure in them. There is no 
 real comfort from any espousals but from 
 those to Christ." 
 
 The benefit she had received ever 
 since her childhood, from pious and 
 learned divines, made her careful to pro- 
 vide such for her neighbours ; to those 
 clergymen who officiated in the parish, 
 she would suggest what virtues might 
 be properly commended in their sermons 
 and discourses, assisting them with her 
 experience, till they had gained some of 
 their own, and constantly working with 
 them in catechising the young and visit- 
 ing the sick. 
 
 The remembrance of those heavenly 
 b 7 
 
50 
 
 comforts which she had often received 
 from the Psalms, encouraged her to re- 
 commend them as daily and hourly de- 
 votions to all people. Yet even the 
 Psalms became an occasion of pain to 
 her, when she heard of the prophetical 
 curses of David being applied both in 
 private families and in public congrega- 
 tions, to particular enemies. " Oh, that 
 sweetest harp sounds most harshly," she 
 would say, " unless it be touched by 
 pure hands, without wrath ! therefore 
 the people must be often warned, in 
 these days of contention and opposition, 
 to sing David's Psalms, with David's 
 spirit ; and when % cursing of enemies 
 came in, to reflect, as David often did, 
 upon the lusts and corruptions of our 
 hearts ; and then the 109th Psalm, (a 
 common curse among the Hebrews,) be 
 upon those our vilest enemies, and most 
 deadly foes, little enough." 
 
 Nor did she confine her care of im- 
 proving others to the present age ; she 
 had also projects for posterity, of setting 
 up schools and manufacturing trades in 
 the parish, that by these she might shut 
 out ignorance, idleness, and want. 
 
 A scheme was much in her thoughts, 
 for providing places for the education of 
 young gentlewomen, and the retirement 
 of widows, (as Colleges and the Inns of 
 Court and Chancery are for men,) in sev- 
 eral parts of the kingdom ; she hoped 
 that learning and religion might flourish 
 more in her own sex, by their having 
 
VISCOUNTKSS FALKLAND. 51 
 
 such opportunities to serve the Lord 
 without distraction. This project might 
 not have beeh beyond her reach to ac- 
 complish, through the power and interest 
 that she had with the great men of her 
 day, but thai? the evil times disabled her. 
 When she found herself unable to fulfil 
 these designs for the good of the king- 
 dom, she returned with fresh vigour to 
 the care of improving herself. 
 
 Her zeal in the work of self-examina- 
 tion, her strictness with herself, and fear 
 of offending, sometimes produced doubts 
 and scruples ; and when troubled by 
 them, she seldom trusted her own judg- 
 ment, but consulted with learned di- 
 vines ; and when she met with any one 
 of learning and piety, she proposed her 
 cases of conscience, and asked for an- 
 swers. On these occasions she would 
 dispute against herself very sharply ; 
 but when her objections had once been 
 answered, and she was satisfied, she sub- 
 mitted cheerfully, and ordered her future 
 practice accordingly. 
 
 Her holy fear, like her other virtues, 
 extended itself not only to greater mat- 
 ters, but to the least ; and from her love 
 as well as fear of God, she dreaded to 
 offend Him in the least particular. " If 
 it be but a mote, may it not grow," said 
 she, "to a beam in mine eye ? " 
 
 Greedily aspiring after perfection, she 
 
 feared the smallest errors ; and if any 
 
 of her scruples proceeded from her own 
 
 carnal reason, or from Satan, to disquiet 
 
 b 8 
 
52 LETTICE 
 
 her, yet even that poison she turned into 
 honey, taking occasion from those very 
 scruples, to he more exact afterwards in 
 her life. 
 
 Such are the remarks made by Dun- 
 can upon those scruples ; in answer to 
 which, he wrote the last letter in the 
 collection, though like the former ones 
 it is, as now published, addressed to a 
 man. 
 
 The earlier letters treated of the 
 comforts and sorrows of a person careful 
 for the soul, the pleasures of God's ser- 
 vice, and the fears of His displeasure ; 
 but this last gives an answer to inquiries- 
 regarding such doubts and scruples as 
 continually arose. 
 
 " One while I fear, I indulge too much 
 liberty to others, and too little to myself; 
 another while, that I am too strict to 
 others, and too remiss to myself; and 
 therefore I mete not to others, as I mete 
 to myself. I multiply queries against; 
 myself, whether this duty was well per- 
 formed, or not ; this action lawful, or 
 not ; that word or silence, seasonable or 
 not ; and for commerce and traffic with 
 my neighbours, whether this and that 
 bargain were just, not prejudicing my- 
 self, nor over-reaching them. And when 
 I would give thanks for any thing well 
 done, (through God's grace in me,) I 
 think it might have been better done, 
 and that therefore my thanksgiving may 
 be deferred." 
 
 " Now,, sir, if these motions be from 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 53 
 
 the Spirit of God in me, I must hearken 
 what the Lord God saith to my soul ; at 
 my utmost peril it is, if I receive not, and 
 cherish not those motions ; and if they 
 be doubts I raise of myself, they are not 
 to be neglected, there is danger (my 
 books tell me) in that ; but if they be 
 scruples, heeding them is dangerous ; so 
 there is danger on every side." 
 
 The questions here given may perhaps 
 be examples of those which Lady Falk- 
 land put to her spiritual guides ; and 
 Duncan's answer, which is a long one, 
 shows, " that a tender conscience is most 
 subject to scruples ; that there is a differ- 
 ence between a scrupulous and a doubt- 
 ful conscience ; and gives eleven direc- 
 tions to cure or prevent a scrupulous 
 conscience." 
 
 It seems indeed from his account of 
 her life, that from her childhood there 
 had been a tendency to melancholy in 
 her disposition, since at the age of thir- 
 teen she was first troubled by fears for 
 the welfare of her soul ; and in her most 
 prosperous days she was reproached by 
 her friends for the little pleasure that 
 she showed in her possessions. This 
 disposition to melancholy was accompa- 
 nied by a scrupulousness which her hus- 
 band's character may not have tended to 
 counteract. His refinement of mind, 
 and purity of heart, seem rather to have 
 laid him open to the persuasions of false 
 pretenders to religion and patriotism, 
 than to have guarded liim from their 
 b 9 
 
M 
 
 snares ; as if in the difficult times where 
 his lot was cast, he weighed all abuses 
 with anxiety, and was attracted by the 
 hope of reforms. But when once his 
 part was taken, he persevered faithfully 
 and bravely in his king's service till he 
 fell fighting in his cause, one of the ear- 
 liest and most honoured victims of re- 
 bellion, and so found rest from the sad- 
 ness which clouded his latter days, 
 though it did not deaden his energies. 
 The few years during which his wife 
 survived him, could not be other than 
 years of mourning; but however deject- 
 ed by sadness, or perplexed by scruples, 
 3he did not deviate from the cause which 
 she began in youth ; her fears and doubts 
 only urged her to consult the wisest 
 ministers of her Church ; continued acts 
 of piety and charity occupied her time, 
 and the fresh affliction of her youngest 
 son's death determined her to a yet 
 stricter course of life than that which 
 she had embraced upon becoming a 
 widow. The more her earthly affections 
 were disappointed, the higher above 
 earth she strove to raise her soul ; and 
 now but a short struggle remained, be- 
 fore she, like her husband, found the 
 peace which both had sought in vain on 
 earth. She had resolved to get loose 
 from the multitude of her worldly em- 
 ployments, and to remove from her 
 stately mansion to a little house near 
 adjoining ; and in that house and garden, 
 with a book, and a wheel, and a maid or 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 55 
 
 iwo, to withdraw herself from wordly 
 business and unnecessary visits ; and 
 she took as great delight in planning this 
 humiliation and privacy, as others do in 
 advancement to honours and employ- 
 ments. 
 
 On the last Christmas day of her life 
 she received the Holy Communion ; and 
 feeling still a want of such strength as 
 she desired in her soul, she had thoughts 
 of coming to it again on the next Lord's 
 day : but that very morning she had a 
 sore conflict and great anguish of spirit ; 
 at one moment her unworthiness, and at 
 another her dullness and dryness, deter- 
 red her from approaching the Holy 
 Sacrament : then she was dissuaded from 
 it by the singularity of receiving it so 
 often. After an hour or two she found 
 reason to suppose that this might be a 
 temptation from her great enemy to 
 keep her from the means of her defence, 
 and so holding firm to her resolution, she 
 came again to the blessed Sacrament, 
 and received with it much comfort and 
 peace. 
 
 Not many days after, fresh tempta- 
 tions assailed her with great vehemence, 
 leading her to suspect her whole course 
 of life, as so full of weakness at the best, 
 and often so full of gross corruptions, — 
 her faith so weak, her repentance so 
 faint, that God would not accept of her. 
 But her shield of faith in Christ's merits 
 soon repelled these darts, and her wonted 
 sanctuary of prayer secured her from 
 this storm of temptation. 
 
56 LETTICE 
 
 Her peace of mind was restored, 
 when she was hurried to London, in the 
 bitterest season of this winter, to attend 
 to some business which she thought piety 
 and justice required her to discharge ; 
 believing this to be her duty, she ven- 
 tured on the journey, and left the event 
 to God. 
 
 In London she strengthened herself 
 yet more for the end of her race, by re- 
 ceiving the Holy Sacrament again; but 
 though her inward strength increased, 
 her bodily strength was decaying, and 
 her weak consumptive frame grew weak- 
 er by a cold that she caught there. Yet 
 she set off to travel homewards : and at 
 Oxford, as her cough and cold very 
 much increased, she began to prepare 
 for death, with most earnest prayers and 
 holy meditations, suggested to her by a 
 pious and learned divine. 
 
 After a while, they who were about 
 her, fearing the pangs of death to be 
 upon her, began to weep and lament ; 
 the whole company grew sad and heavy ; 
 she only continued in her former condi- 
 tion, not at all sorrowful, nor affrighted 
 by these messengers of death. Then 
 the physician coming, and upon consid- 
 eration saying, " Here is no sign of 
 death, nor of much danger ; by God's 
 help she may recover again ;" the whole 
 company was very much comforted and 
 cheered. She only remained in her 
 former indifferency ; no alteration at all 
 could be perceived in her, as if she had 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 57 
 
 been the only party in the chamber un- 
 concerned in it ; neither fear of death 
 could grieve nor trouble her, nor hopes 
 of life and health rejoice her: "I have 
 wholly resigned up myself to God," said 
 she, ** and not mine, but His will be 
 done, whether in life or death." She 
 was not afraid to live, and still endure 
 the miseries of this life, (and ever and 
 anon encounter with Satan too,) because 
 she had a powerful God able to uphold 
 her ; nor yet afraid to die, and appear 
 at God's judgment-seat, because she had 
 a merciful Redeemer, willing to save 
 her." 
 
 The remainder of the narrative shall 
 be given in Duncan's words, addressed 
 to Lady Morison, without alteration or 
 omission. 
 
 " Thus she was brought from Oxford, 
 home ; and now being far spent, and 
 near her end, she could speak little, yet 
 expressed a great deal of thankfulness to 
 God, who had brought her safe, to die 
 in her own house, among her dearest 
 friends. 
 
 " And there she showed those friends 
 a rare pattern of patience in the extrem- 
 ity of her sickness. 
 
 " But the tranquillity of mind, which 
 she had in these her last days, was most 
 observable ; that the devil, who had so 
 often perplexed her with violent temp- 
 tations, should now leave her to rest and 
 ease : she was wont to fear his most vio- 
 lent assaults on her death-bed, as his 
 
58 LETT1CE 
 
 practice commonly is, but now God, it 
 seems, had chained him up, and enabled 
 her, by His grace, to tread Satan under 
 her feet : not a word of complaint, nor 
 the least disturbance, or disquiet, to be 
 perceived by her, which is a sufficient 
 argument to us, (who knew how open a 
 breast she had, to reveal any thing in 
 that kind, especially to divines, whereof 
 she had now store about her,) of her ex- 
 ceeding great quietness and peace : and 
 this tranquillity of mind more clearly now 
 appearing at her death, than ordinarily 
 in the time of her health, is a great evi- 
 dence to me, of God's most tender mercy 
 and love towards her, and of some good 
 assurance, in her, of her salvation. 
 
 " This quiet gave her leave, though 
 now very faint and weak, to be most 
 vigorous and most instant at prayers ; 
 she calls for other help, very faintly ; 
 but for prayers, most heartily and often ; 
 (in those few hours she lived at home ;) 
 and after the office of the morning was 
 performed, she gave strict charge, that 
 every one of her family who could be 
 spared from her, should go to church and 
 pray for her ; and then, in a word of ex- 
 hortation to them who stayed by her, 
 saying, " Fear God, fear God," she 
 most sweetly spent her last breath ; and 
 so most comfortably yielded up her 
 spirit to Him who made it ; and was, we 
 doubt not, admitted into heaven, into the 
 number of the Apostles and Saints of 
 God, (on St. Matthias-day,) there to 
 
VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 59 
 
 reign in the glory of God for ever- 
 more. 
 
 " In which moment of her death, there 
 seemed as little outward pain, as inward 
 conflict ; none could perceive either 
 twitch, or groan, or gasp, or sigh : only 
 her spirit failed ; and so she vanished 
 from us, as if God had intended her here 
 some foretaste, not only of the rest of 
 the soul, but also of the ease of the body, 
 which she should enjoy hereafter in 
 heaven. 
 
 " Thus, in her youth, she was soon 
 perfected ; and in the short time of five 
 and thirty years, she fulfilled a long 
 time. 
 
 " And having in a most acceptable 
 manner practised the duties of our most 
 blessed Saviour's Sermon, she is now, 
 we firmly believe, a partaker of the 
 blessedness too of that Sermon : through 
 Christ's mercy, she hath obtained mer- 
 cy, and enjoys the vision of God, in the 
 kingdom of heaven, where she is most 
 fully satisfied with delight, and comfort, 
 and joy. 
 
 " There were these, and many other 
 virtues, your ladyship knows, observable 
 in this your most pious daughter : but I 
 pretend" not to relate all : many I omit, 
 because common to all the servants of 
 God ; and many other excellencies also 
 there were in her, (I doubt not,) which 
 she concealed from her nearest friends ; 
 and indeed, many of these I have named, 
 she endeavoured studiously to conceal 
 
60 
 
 from us ; but now and then, unawares, 
 she discovered them, and so I became 
 acquainted with them. 
 
 " And now, madam, you have observ- 
 ed, that the growth of grace, which was 
 most evident and apparent in her, espe- 
 cially these late years, (as if come from 
 a blade to an ear, then to a blossom, and 
 thence towards full maturity and ripe- 
 ness,) was most of all promoted by the 
 afflictions which God sent upon her : the 
 loss of her dearest friends, and other 
 troubles, were as a shower of rain to a 
 crop of corn, on a dry ground ; an evi- 
 dent benefit, and a present improvement 
 by it. 
 
 " And was there not then somewhat 
 extraordinary in that dream of hers, soon 
 after her son's death, wherein she being 
 much troubled for that loss, a ladder 
 presently appeared, reaching (with that 
 ladder in Jacob's dream) from earth to 
 heaven ? After the death of her son, 
 every one of us could sensibly perceive 
 her climbing up higher and higher every 
 day, in piety and holiness, till God ex- 
 alted her to the top of Jacob's ladder, 
 the height of glory in heaven. 
 
 " So it may be with every one who 
 suffers inward or outward affliction. 
 
 " And now, though all this while I 
 have been comforting your ladyship, 
 and wiping the tears from your eyes, 
 yet I have detained you too long, I fear, 
 from improving" this affliction sent upon 
 you, (the loss of your dearest child,) 
 
FRANCES COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 61 
 
 with that haste and greediness you de- 
 sired, to your spiritual benefit. I shall 
 help you what I can hereafter, by beg- 
 ging in my prayers the strengthening 
 and establishing grace of God, for you, 
 to bring store of heavenly comfort into 
 your soul, from this your present sor- 
 row. 
 
 " Your servant in Christ Jesus, 
 
 "J. D. 
 
 " April 15, 1647." 
 
 FRANCES 
 COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 
 
 As Alice Egerton, the last wife of 
 Richard Vaughan, Earl of Carbery, is 
 always remembered for her connexion 
 with the Masque of Comus, so is his 
 former wife, Frances Altham, for the 
 funeral sermon which Jeremy Taylor 
 preached upon her death. 
 
 She was the daughter of Sir John 
 Altham, of Orbey, having only one sis- 
 ter to share his inheritance, and brought 
 a large fortune to her husband, with 
 whom she lived thirteen years, and died 
 in October, 1650, leaving seven children, 
 of whom Althamia, the youngest, was 
 born but a few days before her death. 
 
 In the family of Lord Carbery and 
 his wife, Jeremy Taylor found a refuge 
 
62 
 
 during part of the rebellion, whilst re- 
 siding in the same parish in Carmarthen- 
 shire, as that of their house at Golden 
 Grove ; when the churches were closed 
 against his ministry, he delivered in 
 their house his yearly course of sermons. 
 The third part of the Great Exemplar 
 was, in the first edition, dedicated to 
 Frances Lady Carbery ; and in the sec- 
 ond, he added a dedication to Alice 
 Egerton, who then filled her place as the 
 wife of Lord Carbery, making in it 
 affectionate mention of her predecessor, 
 and telling her that her chief claim on 
 his own affection and prayers, was her 
 being i4 in the affections of her noblest 
 lord, successor to a very dear and most 
 excellent person ; designed to fill those 
 offices of piety to her dear pledges, 
 which the haste which God made to glo- 
 rify and secure her, would not permit 
 her to finish." 
 
 In the dedication to the Hoi}'- Dying, 
 addressed to Lord Carbery, allusion is 
 made to the anniversary of his wife's 
 death. Jeremy Taylor preached her 
 funeral sermon at the house of Golden 
 Grove : he chose for his text the follow- 
 ing passage : 
 
 k ' For we must needs die, and are as 
 water spilt on the ground, which cannot 
 be gathered up again ; neither doth God 
 respect any person : yet doth he devise 
 means, that His banished be not expelled 
 from Him!" (2 Sam. xiv. 14.) After 
 treating fully upon the subject of death, 
 he proceeds : 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 63 
 
 li I have now done with my text, butt 
 yet am to make you another sermon. I 
 have told you the necessity and the state 
 of death, it may be too largely for such 
 a sad story ; I shall therefore now, with 
 a better compendium, teach you how to 
 live, by telling you a plain narrative of 
 a life, which, if you imitate, and write 
 after the copy, it will make that death 
 shall not be an evil, but a thing to be de- 
 sired, and to be reckoned among the 
 purchases and advantages of your for- 
 tune. When Martha and Mary went to 
 weep over the grave of their brother, 
 Christ met them there, and preached a 
 funeral sermon, discoursing of the resur- 
 rection, and applying to the purposes of 
 faith, and confession of Christ, and glo- 
 rification of God. We have no other? 
 we can have no better precedent to fol- 
 low : and now that we are come to weep 
 over the grave of our dear sister, this 
 rare personage, we eannot choose but 
 have many virtues to learn, many to im- 
 itate, and some to exercise. 
 
 I choose not to declare her extraction 
 and genealogy ; it was indeed fair and 
 noble ; but having the blessing to be 
 descended from worthy and honoured! 
 ancestors, and herself to be adopted and 
 engrafted into a more noble family, yet 
 she felt such outward appendages to be 
 none of hers, because not of her choice ; 
 but the purchase of the virtues of others,, 
 which although they did engage her to 
 do noble things^ yet they would upbraid 
 
64 FRANCES 
 
 all degenerate and less honourable lives, 
 than were those which began and in- 
 creased the honour of the families. She 
 did not love her fortune for making her 
 noble ; but thought it would be a dis- 
 honour to her, if she did not continue a 
 nobleness and excellency of virtue, fit to 
 be owned by persons relating to such 
 ancestors. It is fit for us all to honour 
 the nobleness of a family ; but it is also 
 fit for them that are noble to despise it, 
 and to establish their honour upon the 
 foundation of doing excellent things, and 
 suffering in good causes, and despising 
 dishonourable actions, and in communi- 
 cating good things to others, for this is 
 the rule in nature ; those creatures are 
 most honourable which have the greatest 
 power, and do the greatest good : and 
 accordingly myself have been a witness 
 of it, how this excellent lady would, by 
 an act of humility and Christian abstrac- 
 tion, strip herself of all that fair appen- 
 dage and exterior honour, which decked 
 her person and her fortune, and desired 
 to be owned by nothing but what was 
 her own, that she might only be esteemed 
 honourable, according to that which is 
 the honour of a Christian, and a wise 
 person. 
 
 She had a strict and severe education, 
 and it was one of God's graces and fa- 
 vours to her ; for being the heiress of a 
 great fortune, and living amongst the 
 throng of persons, in the sight of vani- 
 ties and empty temptations, that is, in 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 65 
 
 that part of the kingdom where greatness 
 is too often expressed in great follies and 
 great vices, God had provided a severe 
 and angry education, to chastise the for- 
 wardness of a young spirit and a fair 
 fortune, that she might for ever be so 
 far distant from a vice, that she might 
 only see and loathe it, but never taste of 
 it, so much as to be put to her choice, 
 whether she would be virtuous or no. 
 God intending to secure this soul to him- 
 self, would not suffer the follies of the 
 world to seize upon her, by way of too 
 near a trial, or busy temptation. 
 
 She was married young ; and besides, 
 her business of religion seemed to be 
 ordained in the providence of God, to 
 bring to this honourable family a part of 
 a fair fortune, and to leave behind her a 
 fairer issue, worth ten thousand times 
 her portion ; and as if this had been all 
 the public business of her life, when she 
 had so far served God's ends, God in 
 mercy would also serve hers, and take 
 her to an early blessedness. 
 
 In passing through which line of 
 Providence, she had the art to secure 
 her eternal interest, by turning her con- 
 dition into duty, and expressing her 
 duty in the greatest eminency of a vir- 
 tuous, prudent, and rare affection, that 
 hath been her own in any example. I 
 will not give her so low a testimony, as 
 to say only that she was chaste ; she was 
 a person of that severity, modesty, and 
 close religion as to that particular, that 
 
66 FRANCES 
 
 she was not capable of uncivil tempta- 
 tion : and you might as well have sus- 
 pected the sun to smell of the poppy 
 that he looks on, as that she could have 
 been a person apt to be sullied by the 
 breath of a foul question. 
 
 But that which I shall note in her, is 
 that which I would have exemplar to all 
 ladies, and to all women : she had a love 
 so great for her lord, so entirely given 
 up to a dear affection, that she thought 
 the same things, and loved the same^ 
 loves, and hated according to the same 
 enmities, and breathed in his soul, and 
 lived in his presence, and languished in 
 his absence ; and all that she was or did, 
 was only for, and to her dearest lord. 
 And although this was a great enamel to 
 the beauty of her soul, yet it might in 
 some degree be also a reward to the vir- 
 tue of her lord : for she would often 
 discourse it to them that conversed with 
 ber, that he would improve that interest 
 which he had in her affections, to the 
 advantages of God and of religion ; and 
 she would delight to say, that he called 
 her to her devotions, he encouraged her 
 good inclinations, he directed her piety, 
 he invited her with good books ; and 
 then she loved religion, which she saw 
 was not only pleasing to God, and an 
 act or state of duty, but pleasing to her 
 lord, and an act also of affection and 
 conjugal obedience ; and what at first 
 she loved the more forwardly for his 
 sake, in the using of religion, left such 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERT. 67 
 
 relishes upon her spirit, that she found 
 in it amability enough to make her love 
 it for its own. So God usually brings 
 us to Him by instruments and affections, 
 and then incorporates us into his inherit- 
 ance, by the more immediate relishes of 
 heaven, and the secret- things of the 
 Spirit. He only was (under God) the 
 light of her eyes, and the cordial of her 
 spirits, and the guide Of her actions, and 
 the measure of her affections, till her af- 
 fections swelled up into a religion, and 
 then it could go no higher, but was con- 
 federate with those other duties which 
 made her dear to God : which rare com- 
 bination of duty and religion, I choose 
 to express in the words of Solomon : 
 " She forsook not the guide of her 
 youth, nor broke the covenant of her 
 God." 
 
 As she was a rare wife, so she was an 
 excellent mother : for in so tender a con- 
 stitution of spirit as hers was, and in so 
 great a kindness towards her children, 
 that hath seldom been seen a stricter and 
 more curious care of their persons, their 
 deportment, their nature, their disposi- 
 tion, their learning, and their customs ; 
 she had not very much of the forms and 
 outsides of godliness, but she was largely 
 careful for the power of it ; for the 
 moral, essential, and useful parts, such 
 as would make her be, not seem to be, 
 religious. 
 
 She was a very constant person at her 
 prayers, and spent all her time which 
 
68 
 
 nature did permit to her choice, in her 
 devotions, and reading, and meditating, 
 and the necessary offices of household 
 government ; every one of which is an 
 action of religion, some by nature, some 
 by adoption. To these also, God gave 
 her a very great love to hear the word 
 of God preached ; in which, because I 
 had sometimes the honour to minister to 
 her, I can give this certain testimony, 
 that she was a diligent, watchful, and 
 attentive hearer ; and to this, she had so 
 excellent a judgment, that if ever I saw 
 a woman whose judgment was to be re- 
 vered, it was hers alone ; and I have 
 sometimes thought that the eminency of 
 her discerning faculties did reward a 
 pious discourse, and placed it in the re- 
 gions of honour and usefulness, and 
 gathered it up from the ground, where 
 commonly such homilies are spilt, or 
 scattered in neglect and inconsideration. 
 But her appetite was not soon satisfied 
 with what was useful to her soul : she 
 was also a constant reader of sermons, 
 and seldom missed to read one every 
 day ; and that she might be full of in- 
 struction and holy principles, she had 
 lately designed to have a large book, in 
 which she purposed to have a stock of 
 religion transcribed, in such assistances 
 as she would choose, that she might be 
 readily furnished and instructed to every 
 good work. But God prevented that, 
 and hath filled her desires, not out of 
 cisterns and little aqueducts, but hath 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 69 
 
 carried her to the fountains : ' she drinks 
 of the pleasures of the river,' and is full 
 of God. 
 
 She always lived a life of much inno- 
 cence, free from the violences of great 
 sins ; her person, her breeding, her mod- 
 esty, her honour, her religion, her early 
 marriage, the guide of her soul, and the 
 guide of her youth, were as so many 
 fountains of restraining grace to her, to 
 keep her from the dishonours of a crime. 
 •* It is good to bear the yoke of the Lord 
 from our youth ;' and though she did so, 
 being guarded by a mighty providence 
 and a great favour and grace of God, 
 from staining her fair soul with the spots 
 of hell, yet she had strange fears and 
 early cares upon her ; but these were 
 and if ever kindness and care did con- 
 test, and make parties in her, yet her 
 care and her severity was ever victo- 
 rious ; and she knew not how to do an 
 ill turn to their severer part, by her more 
 tender and forward kindness. And as 
 her custom was, she turned this also into 
 love to her lord : for she was not only 
 diligent to have them bred nobly and 
 religiously, but also was careful and so- 
 licitous that they should be taught to 
 observe all the circumstances and incli- 
 nations, the desires and wishes of their 
 father ; as thinking that virtue to have 
 no good circumstances, which was not 
 dressed by his copy, and ruled by his 
 lines, and his affections ; and her pru- 
 rience in the managing her children, was 
 
70 FRANCES 
 
 so singular and rare, that whenever you 
 mean to bless this family, and pray a 
 hearty and a profitable prayer for it, 
 beg of God that the children may have 
 those excellent things which she de- 
 signed to them, and provided for them 
 in her heart and wishes ; that they may 
 live by her purposes, and may grow 
 thither, whither she would fain have 
 brought them. All these were great 
 parts of an excellent religion, as they 
 concerned her greatest temporal rela- 
 tions. 
 
 But if we examine how she demeaned 
 herself towards God, there also you will 
 find her, not of a common, but of an 
 exemplar piety : she was a great reader 
 of Scripture, confining herself to great 
 portions every day, which she read, not 
 to the purposes of vanity and imperti- 
 nent curiosities, not to seem knowing, 
 or to become talking, not to expound and 
 rule ; but to teach her all her duty, to 
 instruct her in the knowledge and love 
 of God to her neighbours ; to make her 
 more humble, and to teach her to despise 
 the world and all its gilded vanities, and 
 that she might entertain passions wholly 
 in design and order to heaven. I have 
 seen a female religion, that wholly dwelt 
 upon the face and tongue ; that like a 
 wanton and undressed tree, spends all 
 its juice in suckers and irregular branch- 
 es, in leaves and gum, and after all such 
 goodly outsides, you should never eat 
 an apple, or be delighted with the beau- 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 71 
 
 ties or the perfumes of a hopeful blos- 
 som. But the religion of this excellent 
 lady was of another constitution ; it took 
 root downward in humility, and brought 
 forth fruit upward, in the substantial 
 graces of a Christian, in charity and jus- 
 tice, in chastity and modesty, in fair 
 friendships and sweetness of society : 
 not only for herself, but in order to 
 others, to her nearest relatives ; for she 
 was so great a lover of this honourable 
 family, of which now she was a mother, 
 that she desired to become a channel of 
 great blessings to it unto future ages, 
 and was extremely jealous lest any thing 
 should be done, or lest any thing had 
 been done, though an age or two since, 
 which should entail a curse upon the in- 
 nocent posterity ; and therefore, (al- 
 though I do not know that ever she was 
 tempted with an offer of the crime,) yet 
 she did infinitely remove all sacrilege 
 from her thoughts, and delighted to see 
 her estate of a clear and disentangled 
 interest : she would have no mingled 
 rights with it ; she would not receive 
 any thing from the Church, but religion 
 and a blessing ; and she never thought a 
 curse and a sin far enough off, but would 
 desire it to be infinitely distant ; and 
 that as to this family God had given 
 much honour, and a wise head to govern 
 it, so He would also for ever give many 
 more blessings : and because she knew 
 the sins of parents descend upon chil- 
 dren, she endeavoured, by justice and 
 
72 FRANCES 
 
 religion, by charity and honour, to se- 
 cure that her channel should convey 
 nothing but health, and a fair example, 
 and a blessing. 
 
 And, though her accounts with God 
 were made up of nothing but small par- 
 cels, little passions, and angry words, 
 and trifling discontents, which are the 
 allays of the piety of the most holy per- 
 sons, yet she was early at her repent- 
 ance ; and toward the latter end of her 
 days, grew so fast in religion, as if she 
 had had a revelation of her approaching 
 end, and therefore, that she must go a 
 great way in a little time : her discours- 
 es more full of religion, her prayers 
 more frequent, her charity increasing, 
 her forgiveness more forward, her friend- 
 ships more communicative, her passion 
 more under discipline : and so she trim- 
 med her lamp, not thinking her night 
 was so near, but that it might shine also 
 in the day-time, in the temple, and be- 
 fore the altar of incense. 
 
 But in this course of hers there were 
 some circumstances, and some appen- 
 dages of substance, which were highly 
 remarkable. In all her religion, and in 
 all her actions of relation towards God, 
 she had a strange evenness and untroub- 
 led passage, sliding toward her ocean of 
 God and of infinity, with a certain and 
 silent motion. So have I seen a river, 
 deep and smooth, passing, with a still 
 foot and a sober face, and paying to the 
 great exchequer of the sea, the prince 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 73 
 
 of all the watery bodies, a tribute large 
 and full ; and hard by it, a little brook 
 skipping and making a noise upon its 
 unequal and neighbour bottom, and after 
 all its talking and bragging motion, it 
 paid to its common audit no more than 
 the revenues of a little cloud, or a con- 
 temptible vessel : so have I sometimes 
 compared the issues of her religion to 
 the solemnities and famed outsides of 
 another's piety. It dwelt upon her 
 spirit, and was incorporated with the 
 periodical work of every day : she did 
 not believe that religion was intended to 
 minister to fame and reputation, but to 
 pardon of sins, to the pleasure of God, 
 and the salvation of souls. For religion 
 is like the breath of heaven : if it goes 
 abroad into the open air, it scatters and 
 dissolves like camphire ; but if it enters 
 into a secret hollowness, into a close 
 conveyance, it is strong and mighty, and 
 comes forth with vigour and effect at 
 the other end, at the other side of this 
 life, in the days of death and judgment. 
 The other appendage of her religion, 
 which was also a great ornament to all 
 the parts of her life, was a rare modesty 
 and humility of spirit, a confident despi- 
 sing and undervaluing of herself. For 
 though she had the greatest judgment, 
 and the greatest experience of things 
 and persons, that I ever yet knew in a 
 person of her youth, and sex, and cir- 
 cumstances ; yet, as if she knew nothing 
 of it, she had the meanest opinion of 
 c 
 
74 FRANCES 
 
 herself; and like a fair taper, when she 
 shined to all the room, yet round about 
 her own station, she had cast a shadow 
 and a cloud, and she shined to every- 
 body but herself. But the perfectness 
 of her prudence and excellent parts 
 could not be hid ; and all her humility, 
 and acts of concealment, made the vir- 
 tues more amiable and illustrious. For 
 as pride sullies the beauty of the fairest 
 virtues, and makes our understanding 
 but like the craft and learning of a devil ; 
 so humility is the greatest emineney and 
 art of publication in the whole world ; 
 and she, in all her arts of secrecy, and 
 hiding her worthy things, was but • like 
 one that hideth the wind, and covers the 
 ointment of her right hand.' 
 
 I know not by what instrument it 
 happened ; but when death drew near, 
 before it made any show upon her body, 
 or revealed itself by a natural significa- 
 tion, it was conveyed to her spirit : she 
 had a strange secret persuasion that the 
 bringing this child should be her last 
 scene of life : and we have known that 
 the soul, when she is about to disrobe 
 herself of her upper garment, sometimes 
 speaks rarely : sometimes it is prophet- 
 ical ; sometimes God, by a superinduced 
 persuasion wrought by instruments, or 
 accidents of his own, serves the ends of 
 His own Providence, and the salvation 
 of the soul : but so it was, that the 
 thought of death dwelt long with her, 
 and grew from the first stages of fancy 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 75 
 
 and fear, to a consent, — from thence to a 
 strange credulity, and expectation of it ; 
 and without the violence of sickness she 
 died, as if she had done it voluntarily, 
 and by design, and for fear her expecta- 
 tion should have been deceived ; or that 
 she should seem to have had an unrea- 
 sonable fear or apprehension ; or rather, 
 as one said of Cato, she died as if she 
 had been glad of the opportunity. 
 
 And in this I cannot but adore the 
 Providence, and admire the wisdom and 
 infinite mercies of God ; for having a 
 tender and soft, a delicate and fine con- 
 stitution and breeding, she was tender 
 to pain, and apprehensive of it as a 
 child's shoulder is of a load and burden : 
 and in her often discourses of death, 
 which she would renew willingly and 
 frequently, she would tell, that " she 
 feared not death, but she feared the 
 sharp pains of death." The being dead, 
 and being freed from the troubles and 
 dangers of this world, she hoped would 
 be for her advantage, and therefore, that 
 was no part of her fear ; but she, be- 
 lieving the pangs of death were great, 
 and the use and aids of reason little, had 
 reason to fear lest they should do vio- 
 lence to her spirit, and the decency of 
 her resolution. But God, that knew her 
 fears and her jealousy concerning herself, 
 fitted her with a death so easy, so harm- 
 less, so painless, that it did not put her 
 patience to a severe trial. It was not, 
 to all appearance, of so much trouble as 
 c 2 
 
76 FRANCES 
 
 two fits of a common ague, so careful 
 was God to demonstrate to all that stood 
 in that sad attendance, that this soul 
 was dear to Him, — and that since she 
 had done so much of her duty towards 
 it, He that began, would also finish her 
 redemption, by an act of a rare Provi- 
 dence, and a singular mercy. Blessed 
 be that goodness of God, who does so 
 careful actions of mercy for the ease and 
 security of His servants ! But this one 
 instance was a great demonstration, that 
 the apprehension of death is worse than 
 the pains of death ; and that God loves 
 to reprove the unreasonableness of our 
 fears, by the mightiness and by the arts 
 of His mercy. 
 
 She had in her sickness, if I may so 
 call it, — or rather in the solemnities and 
 graver preparations towards death, — 
 some curious and well-becoming fears 
 concerning the final state of her soul ; 
 but from thence she passed into a kind of 
 trance ; and as soon as she came forth of 
 it, as if it had been a vision, or that she 
 had conversed with an angel, and from 
 his hand had received a label or scroll of 
 the book of life, and there seen her name 
 enrolled, she cried out aloud, " Glory be 
 to God on high ! now I am sure I shall 
 be saved." Concerning which manner 
 of discoursing, we are wholly ignorant 
 what judgment can be made ; but, cer- 
 tainly, there are strange things in the 
 other world, and so there are in all the 
 immediate preparations to it ; and a little 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERT. 77 
 
 glimpse of heaven, a minute's conversing 
 with an angel, any ray of God, any com- 
 munication extraordinary from the spirit 
 of comfort, which God gives to His ser- 
 vants in strange and unknown manners, 
 are infinitely far from illusions, and they 
 shall then be understood by us when we 
 feel them, and when our new and strange 
 needs shall be refreshed by such unusual 
 visitations. 
 
 But I must be forced to use summaries 
 and acts of abbreviature in the enumera- 
 ting these things, in which this rare per- 
 sonage was dear to God, and to all her 
 relatives. 
 
 If we consider her person, she was in 
 the flower of her age ; of a temperate, 
 plain and natural diet, without curiosity 
 or an intemperate palate ; she spent less 
 time in dressing than many servants ; 
 her recreations were little and seldom, 
 her prayers often, her reading much ; 
 she was of a most noble and charitable 
 soul, a great lover of honourable actions, 
 and as great a despiser of base things ; 
 hugely loving to oblige others, and very 
 unwilling to be in arrear to any upon 
 the stock of courtesies and liberality : so 
 free in all acts of favour, that she would 
 not stay to hear herself thanked, as be- 
 ing unwilling that what good went from 
 her to a needful, or an obliged person, 
 should ever return to her again. She 
 was an excellent friend, and hugely dear 
 to very many, especially to the best and 
 most discerning persons ; to all that con- 
 c 3 
 
78 FRANCES 
 
 versed with her, and could understand 
 her great worth and sweetness. She 
 was of an honourable, a nice and tender 
 reputation ; and of the pleasures of this 
 world, which lay before her in heaps, 
 she took a very small and inconsiderable 
 share, as not loving to glut herself with 
 vanity, or take her portion of good things 
 here below. If we look on her as a wife, 
 she was chaste and loving, fruitful and 
 discreet, humble and pleasant, witty and 
 compliant, rich and fair : and wanted no- 
 thing to the making her a principal and 
 precedent to the best wives of the world, 
 but a long life, and a full age. 
 
 If we remember her as a mother, she 
 was kind and severe, careful and pru- 
 dent, very tender, and not at all fond ; a 
 greater lover of her children's souls than 
 of their bodies, and one that would value 
 them more by the strict rules of honour 
 and proper worth, than by their relation 
 to herself. 
 
 Her servants found her prudent and 
 fit to govern, and yet open-handed and 
 apt to reward ; a just exacter of their 
 duty, and a great rewarder of their dili- 
 gence. 
 
 She was in her house a comfort to her 
 dearest lord, a guide to her children, a 
 rule to her servants, an example to all. 
 
 But as she related to God in the of- 
 fices of religion, she was even and con- 
 stant, silent and devout, prudent and 
 material ; she loved what she now en- 
 joys, and she feared what she never felt, 
 
COUNTESS OF CARBERY. 79 
 
 and God did for her what she never did 
 •expect : her fears went beyond all her 
 evil ; and yet the good which she hath 
 received, was, and is, and ever shall be. 
 beyond all her hopes. 
 
 She lived as we all should live, and 
 she died as I fain would die : I pray 
 God that I may feel those mercies on 
 my death-bed that she felt, and that I 
 may feel the same effect of my repent- 
 ance, which she feels of the many de- 
 grees of her innocence. Such was her 
 death, that she did not die too soon ; and 
 lier life was so useful and excellent, that 
 she could not have lived too long. And 
 as now in the grave, it shall not be in- 
 quired concerning her, how long she 
 lived, but how well ; so to us who live 
 after her, to suffer a larger calamity, it 
 may be some ease to our sorrows, and 
 some guide to our lives, and some 
 security to our conditions, to consider 
 that God hath brought the piety of 
 a young lady to the early rewards of a 
 never-ceasing, and never-dying eternity 
 of glory. And we also, if we live as 
 she did, shall partake of the same 
 glories ; not only having the honour of a 
 good name, and a dear and honoured 
 memory, but the glories of these glories, 
 the end of all excellent labours, and all 
 prudent counsels, and all holy religion, 
 even the salvation of our souls, in that 
 day' when all the saints, and among 
 them this excellent woman, shall be 
 shown to the world to have done more t 
 c 4 
 
80 DOROTHY 
 
 and more excellent things than we can 
 know of, or can describe. " Death con- 
 secrates and makes sacred that person, 
 whose excellency was such, that they that 
 are not displeased at the death, cannot 
 dispraise the life ; but they that mourn 
 sadly, think they can never commend 
 sufficiently." 
 
 DOROTHY 
 COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 
 
 Lady Dorothy Sidney was the eldest 
 of the eight daughters of Robert, second 
 Earl of Leicester of his family, and of 
 Lady Dorothy Percy his wife, and was 
 born in the year 1620. Her parents 
 lived together for nearly half a century 
 in the most entire union ; Lady Leicester 
 wrote thus to her husband, eighteen 
 years after their marriage : " Mr. Sela- 
 dine comes in with your letter, whom I 
 am engaged to entertain a little : be- 
 sides, it is supper-time, or else I should 
 bestow one side of this paper in making 
 love to you ; and since I may with mo- 
 desty express it, I will say, that if it be 
 love to think on you, sleeping and 
 waking ; to discourse of nothing with 
 pleasure but what concerns you ; to wish 
 myself every hour with you ; and to 
 pray for you with as much devotion as 
 for my own soul ; then certainly it may 
 
COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 81 
 
 be said that I am in love," This was 
 the conclusion of a letter, addressed to 
 him while ambassador at Paris, after 
 treating at great length, with acuteness 
 and judgment, of some matters of state 
 at home, in which his interests were 
 concerned. 
 
 In the many little inquiries and com- 
 munications respecting their large family, 
 which are scattered through the " Sid- 
 ney papers," the name of their eldest 
 daughter is often mentioned with espe- 
 cial tenderness ; and when her childhood 
 had passed, the same degree of anxiety 
 is shown in the choice of a husband for her. 
 
 Before she was sixteen, she had many 
 suitors, and even as early as the spring 
 of 1635, Lord Russell, heir to the house 
 of Bedford, had been spoken of as likely 
 to marry her. In the course of the 
 three following years, several other pro- 
 jects of marriage were entertained for 
 her, and carefully considered by her pa- 
 rents, Lady Leicester writing frequently 
 on the subject to her husband, during 
 his embassy at Paris. In the mean time, 
 tier beauty was celebrated by the poet 
 Waller, under the name of Sacharissa; 
 lie described her as she was seen at Pens- 
 hurst, among its groves, and under its 
 beeches, with her friend Lady Sophia 
 Murray, to whom he gave the name of 
 Amoret ; but his complaints of her as a 
 haughty beauty have no agreement with 
 any thing that appears in her character, 
 aaor with the expression of her fair and 
 c 5 
 
82 DOROTHY 
 
 open countenance in her portrait. It 
 appears that he offered himself as her 
 husband, and was rejected by her family, 
 who in spite of his large estate, good 
 looks and accomplishments, regarded 
 him as no equal match for their daughter. 
 
 A few of her letters are preserved, 
 chiefly before her marriage, and address- 
 ed to her father to express her duty and 
 affection towards him. The following 
 is a specimen : 
 " My Lord, 
 
 Had not my intentions been diverted 
 by the trouble of a distemper which a 
 great cold produced, and since that, by 
 the expectation of Rochelle's coming 
 hither, I would not have been thus slow 
 in presenting your lordship with my 
 most humble thanks, for the many fine 
 things you have bestowed on me. And, 
 though they will be my greatest orna- 
 ments, which is of much consideration 
 by persons no wiser than I am, they 
 could not give me any contentment, but 
 as I understand they are expressions of 
 your lordship's favour, a blessing that 
 above all others in this world, I do with 
 much passion desire ; and my ambition 
 is, that whatsoever your lordship doth 
 propound to be in the perfectest good 
 child upon the earth, you may find ac- 
 complished in me, that will ever be your 
 lordship's most affectionate, most hum- 
 ble, and exactly obedient, 
 
 D. Sidney." 
 
 In July, 1639, when she had reached 
 
COUJVTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 83 
 
 her nineteenth year, she was married at 
 Penshurst, to Henry, third Lord Spen- 
 cer, who was of the same age with her- 
 self, and a youth of such virtue and 
 promise, that her parents' most anxious 
 wishes could not have chosen a better 
 protector for her. He had been educa- 
 ted at Magdalen College, Oxford, and 
 on his father's death became master of a 
 large estate. His character was thus 
 described after his death, by Lloyd, in 
 his memoirs of the loyalists. 
 
 " A good patriot upon all other occa- 
 sions," (but that of the rebellion,) "as 
 one of them at Westminster observed, 
 promoting the trade, manufactures, and 
 privileges of this country ; and now 
 standing by his majesty, as he evidently 
 saw him stand for his kingdom ; saying, 
 by a foresight and prospect that he had 
 of things suitable to the eminence of his 
 place, that one seven years would show 
 that the king was the true common- 
 wealth's man : a true nobleman, that 
 was virtuous because it became him, as 
 well as because it was enjoined him ; 
 being above all vice, as well as without 
 it ; looking upon it as his shame and dis- 
 honour, as well as sin and offence ; a 
 good neighbour ; the country about him, 
 when he had occasion to make use of it, 
 being his friends that loved him, rather 
 than slaves that feared him ; a discreet 
 landlord, finding ways to improve his 
 land, rather than rack his tenants ; a 
 noble housekeeper, to whom that inge- 
 c 6 
 
84 DOROTHY 
 
 unity that he was master of himself was 
 welcome in others ; an honest patron, 
 seldom furnishing a Church with an in- 
 cumbent, till he had consulted the col- 
 lege he had been of, and the Bishops he 
 lived under ; an exemplary master of a 
 family, observing exactly the excellent 
 rules he so strictly enjoined ; consecra- 
 ting his house as a temple, where he or- 
 dered his followers to wrestle with God 
 in prayer, while he wrestled with the 
 enemy in fight." 
 
 The young married pair joined Lord 
 Leicester at Paris, and staid there till 
 October, 1641, when his mission ended, 
 and the family returned to England, and 
 Lord Spencer, a few days after, took 
 his seat in the house of Peers. Young 
 as he was, having only just attained his 
 majority, his eminent merit was already 
 observed, and the two great parties then 
 contending, each endeavoured to engage 
 him. He at first inclined to the popular 
 side, always upholding it with modera- 
 tion and candour, but he found his at- 
 tempts at conciliation unavailing, when 
 he advised those who complained of 
 their sovereign, to lure him home by 
 loving behaviour. 
 
 Fuller relates, that on a solemn fast, 
 when the members of the- house of lords 
 were going to church, the temporal 
 peers for the first time took the prece- 
 dency over the bishops, who quickly 
 submitted to follow them, when the 
 young Lord Spencer said, " Is this a 
 
COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 85 
 
 day of humiliation, wherein we show so 
 much pride, in taking place of those to 
 whom our ancestors ever allowed it ?" 
 
 At length he took leave of the parlia- 
 ment with a solemn admonition, and 
 having determined on taking arms for the 
 king, he made a disposition of his estate, 
 before he set out for his seat at Althorp 
 with his wife and children. In June, 
 1642, he committed his estates to the 
 care of several of his own and his wife's 
 relations, for the use of his wife and 
 children, and subscribed the document in 
 presence of Algernon Sidney, his wife's 
 brother, and of Dr. Henry Hammond, 
 the rector of Penshurst. 
 
 When the royal standard was set up 
 at Nottingham on August 22d, he was 
 among those who assembled to support 
 it, and after that time he never returned 
 to the enjoyments of his home. 
 
 He was much vexed by the selfish in- 
 terests and pretensions which embarras- 
 sed the king's cause, of which he com- 
 plained in writing to his wife, but his 
 letters to her show the spirit of a young 
 soldier, mixed with the tenderness of a 
 young husband and father. 
 " My dearest heart, 
 
 Just as I was going out of the trenches 
 on Wednesday, I received your letter of 
 the 20th of this instant, which gave me 
 so much satisfaction, that it put all the 
 inconveniences of this siege out of my 
 thoughts. At that instant, if I had fol- 
 lowed my own inclinations, I had re- 
 c 7 
 
 
86 DOROTHY 
 
 turned an answer to yours, writing to 
 you and hearing from you being the 
 most pleasant entertainment I am capa- 
 ble of receiving in any place, but espe- 
 cially here, but when I am in the 
 trenches, (which place is seldom without 
 my company,) I am more solitary than 
 ever I was in my life ; this country be- 
 ing very full of private cottages, in one 
 of which I am quartered, where my 
 Lord Falkland did me the honour to 
 sup Many of the soldiers are confi- 
 dent that we shall have the town within 
 this four days, which I extremely long 
 for ; not that I am weary of this siege, 
 for really, though we surfer many incon- 
 veniences, yet I am not ill pleased with 
 this variety, so directly opposite as the 
 being in the trenches, with so much 
 good company, together with the noise 
 and tintamarre of guns and drums, with 
 the horrid spectacles, and hideous cries 
 of dead and hurt men ; is to the solitari- 
 ness of my quarter, together with all the 
 marks of peace, which often brings into 
 my thoughts, notwithstanding your mo- 
 ther's opinion of me ; how infinitely 
 more happy I should esteem myself, 
 quietly to enjoy your company at Al- 
 thorp, than to be troubled with the 
 noises, and engaged in the factions of the 
 court, which I shall ever endeavour to 
 avoid." Here follow many lines in ci- 
 pher, which have not been explained. 
 " When we were at Bristol, Sir William 
 was there, but I hear he is now gone to 
 
COUNTESS OP SUNDERLAND. 87 
 
 Hereford, for which I envy him, and all 
 others that can go to their own houses ; 
 but I hope ere long, you will let me have 
 your company and Popet's, the thought 
 of which is to me most pleasant, and 
 passionately desired by yours, 
 
 Sunderland." 
 August 25th, before Gloucester. 
 
 He had been made Earl of Sunder- 
 land in the preceding June. He con- 
 tinued to follow the king's motions, hav- 
 ing determined always to be present 
 where Charles commanded in person. 
 He wrote from Oxford to his wife just 
 before joining the army, when about to 
 engage the rebels, in the first battle of 
 Newbury. 
 
 " My dearest heart, 
 
 Since I wrote last to you from Sulbey, 
 we had some hope of fighting with my 
 Lord of Essex's army, having certain 
 intelligence of his being in a field conve- 
 nient enough, called Ripple field, towards 
 which we advanced with all possible 
 speed : upon which he retired with his ar- 
 my to Tewkesbury, where, by the advan- 
 tage of the bridge, he was able to make 
 good his quarters, with five hundred men 
 against twenty thousand ; so that, though 
 we were so near as to have been with 
 him in two hours, his quarter being so 
 strong, it was resolved on Thursday, as 
 he would not fight with us, we should 
 endeavour to force him to it by cutting 
 off his provisions, for which purpose the 
 best way was for the body of our army 
 
88 DOROTHY 
 
 to go back to Evesholme, and for out 
 horses to distress him. Upon which I, 
 and others, resolved to come for a few 
 days to Oxford, where we arrived late 
 on Thursday, there being no probability 
 of righting very suddenly. As soon as I 
 came, I went to your father's, where I 
 found Alibone, with whose face I was 
 better pleased than with any of the la- 
 dies' here. This expression is so much 
 a bolder thing than charging Lord Es- 
 sex, that, should this letter miscarry, 
 and come to the knowledge of our dames, 
 I should, by having my eyes scratched 
 out, be cleared from coming away from 
 the army from fear, where if I had staid, 
 it seems odd if I lost more than one. 
 Mrs. Jermyn met my Lord Jermyn, 
 who, notwithstanding your intelligence, 
 is but a Baron, with whom I came to 
 Woodstock, who told me she would 
 write to you, which I hope she hath 
 done ; for since I came here I have seen 
 no creature but your father, and my un- 
 cle ; so that I am altogether ignorant of 
 the intrigues of this place. Before I go 
 hence I shall have a letter for you. I 
 take the best care I can about my eco- 
 nomical affairs. I am afraid I shall not 
 be able to get you a better house, every 
 body thinking me mad for speaking 
 about it. Pray bless Popet for me, and 
 tell her I would have writ to her, but 
 that, upon mature deliberation, I found 
 it uncivil to return an answer to a lady 
 in another character than her own, which 
 
COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 89 
 
 I am not yet learned enough to do. I 
 cannot, by walking about my chamber, 
 call any thing more to mind to set down 
 here : and really I have made you no 
 small compliment in writing thus much, 
 for I have so great a cold that I do no- 
 thing but sneeze, and my eyes do no- 
 thing but water, all the while I am in 
 the posture of holding down my head. I 
 beseech you present his service to my 
 lady, who is most passionately and per- 
 fectly yours. 
 
 Sunderland." 
 Oxford, Sept. 16, 1643. 
 
 By " Popet" he meant his little 
 daughter, then two years old, and by 
 " my lady," the Countess of Leicester, 
 who was with her daughter at Althorpe. 
 
 He did not see his wife again. The 
 battle of Newbury was fought on the 
 20th, the fourth day after the date of 
 this letter. The king's horse, in which 
 Lord Sunderland served, " charged," 
 says Clarendon, " with a kind of con- 
 tempt of the enemy, and with wonderful 
 boldness, upon all grounds of inequality ; 
 and were so far too hard for the troops 
 of the other side, that they routed them 
 in most places :" and here, he adds, fell 
 " the Earl of Sunderland, a lord of great 
 fortune ; tender years, being not above 
 three and twenty years of age ; and an ear- 
 ly judgment ; who, having no command in 
 the army, attended upon the king's per- 
 son, under the obligation of honour ; and 
 putting himself that day in the king's 
 c 9 
 
90 POROTHY 
 
 troop, a volunteer, was taken away by a 
 cannon bullet." He lived for a short 
 time after he had received the shot, and 
 it appears from Lloyd's expressions, 
 that he spent the interval in holy 
 thoughts. 
 
 Lady Sunderland, when she was thus 
 left a widow, had two children : Robert, 
 who, succeeding to his father's title, be- 
 came well known during the following 
 reigns, and Dorothy, afterwards Mar- 
 chioness of Halifax ; another daughter 
 was born soon after her husband's death, 
 and named Penelope, but died in infan- 
 cy. Her mother, Lady Leicester, was 
 with her when her affliction came upon 
 her, and is said to have attended upon 
 her tenderly through several months of 
 illness. She was herself a woman of 
 gentleness and refinement, who had 
 sought her own happiness in domestic 
 life, and was well able to feel for her 
 daughter's bereavement. Lord Leices- 
 ter wrote thus to her on her grief : 
 
 " Your reason will assure you that, 
 besides the vanity of bemoaning that 
 which hath no remedy, you offend him 
 whom you loved, if you hurt that person 
 whom he loved. Remember how ap- 
 prehensive he was of your dangers, and 
 how sorry for any thing that troubled 
 you. Imagine how he sees that you af- 
 flict and hurt yourself. You will then 
 believe that, though he looks upon it 
 without any perturbation, for that can- 
 not be admitted by the blessed condition. 
 
COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND. 91 
 
 wherein he is, yet he may censure you, 
 and think you forgetful of the friendship 
 that was between you, if you pursue 
 not his desires in being careful of your- 
 self, who was so dear unto him. But 
 he sees you not. He knows not what 
 you do. Well, what then ? would you 
 do any thing that would displease him 
 if he knew it, because he is where he 
 doth not know it ? I am sure that was 
 never in your thoughts ; for the rules of 
 your actions were, and must be, virtue, 
 and affection to your husband ; not the 
 consideration of his ignorance or know- 
 ledge of what you do : that is but an ac- 
 cident ; neither do I think that his pres- 
 ence was at any time more than a cir- 
 cumstance not at all necessary to your 
 abstaining from those things that might 
 displease him." 
 
 Lord Sunderland was buried at his 
 estate of Brington, in Northamptonshire, 
 and thither his widow retiring, lived 
 several years there with her children. 
 " She is not to be mentioned," says 
 Lloyd, in his Memoirs of the Loyalists, 
 " without the highest honour in this 
 catalogue of sufferers, to so many of 
 whom her house was a sanctuary, her 
 interest a protection, her estate a main- 
 tenance, and the livings in her gift a pre- 
 ferment." 
 
 In the mean time her parents, after 
 having at the beginning of the rebellion 
 suffered sequestration of their estates, 
 had them restored by the Parliament, 
 
92 DOROTHY, ETC. 
 
 with the view, as it is supposed, of con- 
 ciliating Lady Leicester's brother, the 
 Earl of Northumberland, and her eldest 
 son, Lord Lisle. Lord Leicester being 
 contented to remain inactive, was allow- 
 ed to live unmolested at Penshurst, and 
 the king's two youngest children, the 
 Princess Elizabeth and Duke of Glou- 
 cester, were placed there under the 
 charge of his countess, in 1649. The 
 young princess left a valuable jewel to 
 her when she died, which the Parlia- 
 ment did not permit her to retain. Lady 
 Leicester died in 1659, having witness- 
 ed the second marriage, and perhaps the 
 second widowhood of her eldest daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 Of Lady Sunderland it is said that 
 she lived at Brington, " till finding the 
 heavy load of housekeeping too trouble- 
 some, she went to her father at Pens- 
 hurst," where, with his approval, she 
 married Robert Smith, a Kentish gen- 
 tleman, who was related to her family. 
 Evelyn notices in his journal of July, 
 1652, that going from Tunbridge Wells 
 to Penshurst, he found it full of compa- 
 ny on the marriage of his old fellow col- 
 legian, Mr. Robert Smith, with Lord 
 Sunderland's widow : she survived him, 
 and died herself in 1683, leaving by her 
 second husband one son, Robert, gov- 
 ernor of Dover Castle, under Charles II. 
 
93 
 
 ELIZABETH LADY CAPEL. 
 
 Hardly any of the ladies of this pe- 
 riod can call forth more interest for her 
 husband's sake than the wife of Lord 
 Capel ; and there is something pleasing 
 as well as striking, in the harmony and 
 the contrast that exist between his bril- 
 liant course and noble death upon the 
 scaffold, and her calm widowhood and 
 peaceful death-bed. 
 
 She was descended from the family of 
 the Morisons, at Cashiobury, in Hert- 
 fordshire, of which she became the only 
 representative, when her father, Sir 
 Charles Morison, had lost all his other 
 children. Her parents were anxious to 
 find a suitable marriage for her, and 
 after much consideration, and the refusal 
 of many who were proposed for her, 
 they gave her in her seventeenth year, 
 to Arthur Lord Capel, Baron of Had- 
 ham. Lord Clarendon, in his character 
 of this loyal nobleman, thus speaks of 
 his domestic life : " He had always 
 lived in a state of great plenty, and 
 general estimation, having a very noble 
 fortune of his own by descent, and a fair 
 addition to it. by his marriage with an 
 excellent wife, a lady of very worthy 
 extraction, of great virtue and beauty, 
 by whom he had a numerous issue of 
 both sexes, in which he took great joy 
 and comfort ; so that no man was more 
 happy in all his domestic affairs, and he 
 
94 ELIZABETH 
 
 was so much the more happy, in that he 
 thought himself most blessed in them. 
 
 " And yet the king's honour was no 
 sooner violated, and his just power in- 
 vaded, than he threw all those blessings 
 behind him ; and having no other obli- 
 gations to the crown, than those which 
 his own honour and conscience suggest- 
 ed to him, he frankly engaged his per- 
 son and his fortune, from the beginning 
 of the troubles, as many others did, in 
 all actions and enterprises of the greatest 
 hazard and danger ; and continued so to 
 the end, without ever making one false 
 step, as few others did, though he had 
 once by the iniquity of a faction that 
 then prevailed, an indignity put upon 
 him, that might have excused him for 
 some remission of his former warmth ; 
 but it made no other impression on him 
 than to be quiet and contented, whilst 
 they let him alone, and with the same 
 cheerfulness to obey the first summons 
 when he was called out, which was 
 quickly after." 
 
 The character of Lord Capel in pri- 
 vate and public life, cannot here be pur- 
 sued, but must be referred to, if not al- 
 ready well known, in Clarendon's His- 
 tory, where we see him both as he was 
 at the age of twenty-five, in the height 
 of wealth and prosperity when the rebel- 
 lion begun, and as soon after his king's 
 death, he laid down his life upon the 
 scaffold. A petition was presented by 
 his lady, and discussed by Cromwell in 
 
IiADY CAPEL. 95 
 
 Parliament, who having highly praised 
 him, concluded by saying that he knew 
 him well, and knew him to be the last 
 man in England that would forsake the 
 royal interest ; and still dwelling upon 
 his virtues, turned them into reasons for 
 his destruction, because whatever con- 
 dition he was in, he would be a thorn in 
 their side. Bishop Morley thus relates 
 his preparations for death and farewell 
 to his wife and other relations : 
 
 " The next morning, [March 8th, 
 1649,] at the hour agreed between us, 
 which was between six and seven, I 
 came to him again, and found him ready 
 to receive me. We went into a cham- 
 ber alone together, where after some 
 spiritual conference suitable to the pre- 
 sent occasion, I first prayed with him, 
 and then he prayed himself, with very 
 great zeal and fervour, and for others as 
 well as for himself; nay, for his enemies 
 as well as for his friends, but especially 
 for the king, the kingdom, and the 
 Church. And all this with such apt and 
 unaffected expressions, and in so regular 
 a method, that one might easily perceive 
 prayer was a thing he had so often exer- 
 cised, that it was grown habitual to 
 him. 
 
 " Having thus prepared himself, he 
 did with great humility and devotion 
 receive the holy sacrament, together 
 with the Earl of Norwich and Sir John 
 Owen, who were condemned to suffer 
 with him, but are yet (thanks be to 
 
96 ELIZABETH 
 
 God) both living ; and will live, I hope, 
 to see justice done upon those who did 
 condemn them. 
 
 " Having received the sacrament, and 
 being much comforted by it, (as rinding 
 in himself all the gracious effects of it,) 
 he was presently put to the trial of his 
 spiritual strength, by taking his leave 
 of the nearest and dearest relations that 
 can be betwixt flesh and blood, and the 
 strongest ties that a noble nature can 
 have unto the world. For that excel- 
 lent lady his wife, and his eldest son, 
 together with two of his uncles, and his 
 nephew, Sir Thomas Corbett, came all 
 into the room at once, (as being not per- 
 mitted to do it severally,) and at once 
 assaulted him, (as it were,) with such 
 passionate looks, gestures and words, 
 bemoaning and bewailing him and them- 
 selves, (his lady especially,) with such 
 sweet and tender expressions of love, 
 sorrow and pity, that the greatest natu- 
 ral courage in the world must needs 
 have been shaken with it, had it not 
 been supported (as he was) with more 
 than human strength and firmness. I 
 am sure it was the saddest sight that 
 ever I saw, and such a one as even that 
 great courage of his could not choose 
 but be a little softened and melted with 
 it; but he quickly recollected himself, 
 and then, with a cheerful countenance, 
 told his wife and the rest that he and 
 they must all submit, not only with pa- 
 tience, but cheerfulness to the Divine 
 
LADY CAPEL. 97 
 
 Providence, which no doubt had, and 
 would, order all things, and as should be 
 best for him and them too, though per- 
 haps it did not yet appear to them to be 
 80. 
 
 " Then having recommended the care 
 of his children and servants unto his 
 Lady, he commended both her and his 
 sons, as they loved him, to forgive his 
 enemies* ' and though,' said he unto his 
 son, ' I would not have you neglect any 
 honourable and just occasion to serve 
 your king and country, with the hazard 
 of your life and fortune ; yet, I would 
 have you engage yourself, (as I, thanks 
 be to God for it, have done,) neither out 
 of desire of revenge, nor hope of reward, 
 but out of a conscience of your duty 
 only. My land (said he) was so settled 
 upon you by your grandfather, that no 
 pretence of crime in me can deprive you 
 of it. The best legacy I can leave you 
 is my prayers for you, and a verse of 
 David's Psalms, which I command you, 
 upon my blessing, to make a part of 
 your daily prayers, as I have always 
 made it a part of mine : ' Teach me thy 
 way, O Lord, and lead me in a plain 
 path,' Psalm 27th. For I have always 
 loved plainness and cleanness, both in 
 my words and actions, and abhorred all 
 doubling and dissimulation, and so I 
 would have you to do also. Then he 
 gave him his blessing, and having em- 
 braced his uncles and nephew, he took 
 his last leave of them all, not without 
 
98 ELIZABETH 
 
 some tears on his part, as well as many 
 on theirs ; his poor lady being not able 
 to support such a weight of grief, did 
 sink under it, and was fain to be carried 
 out from him. As soon as all were gone, 
 and none left in the room but he and I : 
 4 Well, Doctor,' said he, ' the hardest 
 thing that I had to do here in this world 
 is now past, the parting with this poor 
 woman ; let us now again to our main 
 concernment.' " 
 
 Before his death, he entreated Dr. 
 Morley to comfort her when he was 
 gone. 
 
 He left four sons and four daughters, 
 of whom Theodosia, named after his own 
 mother, was afterwards married to Lord 
 Clarendon's eldest son, and was remark- 
 able, as Lady Cornbury, for her beauty 
 and for her sudden early death. 
 
 It was in March, 1649, that Lord Ca- 
 pel was beheaded, and his wife survived 
 him during the eleven following years of 
 Cromwell's usurpation, dying a few 
 months before Charles II. was restored. 
 In her widowhood she occupied herself 
 in the care of her children and house- 
 hold, in works of devotion and charity, 
 spending money in alms, even beyond 
 the advice of the clergyman whom she 
 employed as her almoner, obeying and 
 assisting the ministers of the Church 
 during the times of trouble, and devoting 
 part of every day to the exercise of 
 prayer, meditation, study of the scrip- 
 tures, and reading, from which she never 
 
LADY CAPEL. 99 
 
 suffered herself to be diverted by busi- 
 ness or company. A Bishop who knew 
 her well, and had observed her mingled 
 sweetness and gravity of demeanour, 
 was accustomed to say, that he never 
 saw any become herself so well as the 
 good Lady Capel. 
 
 About four years before her death, 
 she lost her second son, Charles, then 
 grown up to be a gallant and hopeful 
 young gentleman, when she sent for her 
 spiritual adviser, Mr. Barker, as she 
 habitually did on any occasion of grief, 
 and addressed him in these words : ' Sir, 
 I pray be free and plain with me, and 
 tell me seriously and unfeignedly what 
 sin or vice did you ever take notice of 
 in my practice and conversation ? for I 
 am sure something is amiss, and some- 
 thing God would have amended in me, 
 that he does thus continually ply me 
 with crosses.' 
 
 As she was patient in her afflictions, 
 and careful to improve them, so she was 
 diligent and active in fulfilling her du- 
 ties, and received strength to go through 
 all that was required of her, notwith- 
 standing the delicacy of her education 
 and tenderness of her constitution. In 
 her family devotions she required the 
 attendance of all her servants, on which 
 point only she showed herself a strict 
 mistress, and would tell Mr. Barker that 
 she never pleased herself in her family 
 duties, nor thought that she served God 
 acceptably, unless she had all her family 
 about her. 
 
100 ELIZABETH 
 
 This account of her life is given by 
 Mr. Barker after many years' intimate 
 acquaintance with her, and he also at- 
 tended upon her death bed, which 
 through the severe sufferings of several 
 months was the scene of inward peace 
 and joy as well as of unwearied pa- 
 tience. 
 
 " One time indeed," he says, (and 
 never but that once,) " when I was with 
 her, I found her labouring under some 
 inward conflicts and thoughtfulness 
 touching her spiritual state and condi- 
 tion ; but those such as right well be- 
 came the pious hope and humility of a 
 Christian : whereupon, when I desired 
 her, that if any particular scruple did 
 trouble her thoughts, and lay heavy 
 upon her spirits, she would please to 
 ease her mind of it and let me know it, 
 that I might the better fit and order my 
 applications to her. To which she re- 
 turned me this answer : that she had 
 been very faithful in her examination of 
 her conscience, and had desired God to 
 assist and direct her in that search, and 
 yet could not find out any one particular 
 sin which did aflict her spirit more than 
 another ; but however confessed herself 
 a great sinner before God. She was 
 (it seems) very desirous to take as much 
 shame and guilt to herself as was possi- 
 ble, that so she might leave the more 
 glory for the free grace and pardon of God. 
 
 "And accordingly, still as she cast 
 down one eye upon sin at any time, she 
 
I.ADY CAPEL. 101 
 
 was ever careful to keep the other firm- 
 ly and steadfastly fixed upon her Sa- 
 viour This was the right com- 
 plexion and constitution of her piety ; an 
 equal temperament of fear and hope, of 
 humility and confidence ; as her hope 
 was evermore a fearing hope, so was 
 her fear always a believing, hoping fear. 
 She carried too deep a sense of sin in 
 her conscience to be proud of any virtue 
 or worthiness of her own, and was al- 
 ways (even under her greatest conflicts 
 and agonies) too good a Christian to de- 
 spair of pardon." 
 
 Towards the latter part of her sick- 
 ness, she twice received the blessed Sa- 
 crament of the body and blood of Christ, 
 and both times with expressions of de- 
 votion and reverence ; on the first of 
 these two occasions, especially, when 
 though her strength was much decayed, 
 and her pain sharp, she would receive 
 upon her knees, saying to Mr. Barker, 
 that as long as God lent her the use of 
 her knees, she resolved to use them in 
 that solemn service, as a testimony of 
 her unfeigned humility and reverence of 
 the majesty and dreadfulness of those 
 sacred mysteries. 
 
 After she took to her bed, she sent for 
 him more frequently than before, and 
 three days before her death, she asked 
 and received the Church's last com- 
 fort and blessing, the benefit of Abso- 
 lution, which she took with great thank- 
 fulness, and showed a heavenly com- 
 fort and peace ensuing upon it. 
 
102 ELIZABETH 
 
 Her last days were full of the grace of 
 God, who granted that wish which she 
 had often expressed with submission to 
 His good pleasure, and gave her some 
 sensible tastes of heavenly joy, fresh 
 comforts daily breaking in upon her soul, 
 her former fears vanishing, and her 
 whole mind sweetly composed into a 
 pious confidence. A few days before 
 her death she spoke to the following 
 effect, addressing herself to her minis- 
 ter : — 
 
 ' O, Sir, what a gracious God have I ! 
 How rich in his mercies towards me ! 
 How favourable in His corrections of 
 me ! The thing which I so greatly 
 feared, (a painful torturing death,) He 
 has turned into ease and comfort ; and 
 my worldly cares and thoughtfulness for 
 the provisions of my children, He has 
 also in a great measure taken off my 
 hand : and now, what do I lingering and 
 tarrying here any longer ! All my work 
 is done, and the world has no farther 
 need of me. Why may I not forthwith 
 go to my God ? Is it not much better 
 for me to be dissolved, and to be with 
 Christ V These and such like heavenly 
 sayings were her usual discourses with 
 him, so that he rejoiced whenever she 
 sent for him. 
 
 On January 26th she sent for him four 
 several times to pray with her, thrice in 
 the morning, and once in the afternoon, 
 at which last time all her children, ex- 
 cept one who was not then in town, were 
 
XADY CAPEL. 103 
 
 present, and joined in the prayers. Soon 
 after, he was summoned again, to per- 
 form his last ministerial office, the re- 
 commendation of her soul into the hands 
 of Almighty God, and then her senses 
 beginning to fail, she drew her last 
 breath a few minutes afterwards in much 
 peace and sweetness. 
 
 " I have in my time been with seve- 
 ral dying persons," concludes Mr. Bar- 
 ker, after a solemn protestation of his 
 earnestness, " seen their piety, observ- 
 ed their patience, taken special notice of 
 their whole carriage and behaviour, yet 
 never in all my life did I see such an 
 uniform samplar of piety, nor a whiter 
 soul return to its Maker." 
 
 She died on January 26th, 1660, and 
 was buried with her husband at Little 
 Hadham, in Hertfordshire. 
 
 A true and short Narrative of the man- 
 ner of the death of the Right Hon. the 
 Lord Capel. 
 
 " I went often to visit the right hon- 
 ourable the Lord Capel, a little before 
 his death, whilst he was a prisoner in 
 St. James's house in the Park, and al- 
 ways found him in such a temper as be- 
 came an innocent and well resolved per- 
 son. 
 
 " The night before he was to suffer, 
 he told me, he had a great desire to re- 
 ceive the Sacrament before his death, if 
 he might receive it from a minister of 
 the king's party, and according to the 
 
104 ELIZABETH 
 
 Liturgy of the Church of England ; but 
 said withal, he feared no such person as 
 he would receive it from could give it 
 him without endangering himself, and 
 that he was loath to endanger any man. 
 I replied I knew not what danger there 
 might be in doing that Christian office to 
 a dying man ; but was resolved (if he 
 pleased to take it from my hands) to 
 venture any thing that could come of it, 
 rather than his lordship should die with- 
 out that satisfaction. He seemed to be, 
 and no doubt was very glad of this offer 
 of mine, and gave me many thanks for 
 it ; desiring me, that (without losing 
 any more of the little time he had left) I 
 would confer and pray with him, in or- 
 der to his preparation for receiving the 
 Holy Sacrament next morning. I did 
 so, and found that he could not accuse 
 himself of any great known sin, commit- 
 ted against the light of his own con- 
 science, but one only ; and that was the 
 giving his vote in parliament for the 
 death of my Lord of Strafford ; which 
 (said he) I did against my conscience ; 
 not out of any malice to the person 
 of the man ; but out of a base fear (they 
 are his own words) ' and carried away 
 with the violence of a prevailing fac- 
 tion ;' and for which (said he) ' I have 
 been and am heartily sorry, and have 
 often with tears begged, and (I hope) 
 obtained pardon of Almighty God ;' add- 
 ing, ' that' (if I thought it necessary or 
 fit) ' he would confess this great and 
 
LADY CAPEL. 105 
 
 scandalous sin of his, together with the 
 cause of it, openly upon the scaffold, to 
 God's glory and his own shame :' which 
 I telling him I thought it would be inge- 
 nuously and Christianly done of him to 
 do, he did accordingly the next morning. 
 
 " Then having prayed again with 
 him, I left him for that night, in a most 
 Christian temper, to his own devout 
 meditations." 
 
 After the parting from his wife and 
 friends, already given in the Life, he 
 said to the Bishop, * Let us now again 
 to our main concernment. I believe I 
 shall be called upon presently to go to 
 the place where I am to take my leave 
 i of all the rest of the world, and, I thank 
 my God, I find myself very well dis- 
 posed to it, and prepared for it.' And 
 then he told me he was in good hope 
 that when he came to die, he should 
 have nothing else to do but to die only. 
 * For,' (said he) when I am upon the 
 scaffold, having made a confession of my 
 faith, and said something in honour of 
 my Master that was, and for the service 
 of my Master that now is, I will only 
 repeat the Lord's Prayer upon my 
 knees, and then lay my head upon the 
 block, desiring the executioner, that up- 
 on the stretching forth of my right hand, 
 (which shall be in the very act of re- 
 commending my soul unto my Saviour,) 
 he would instantly do his office ; and 
 then he showed me the heads, of what 
 he meant to speak of, written with his 
 
106 ELIZABETH 
 
 own hand, which after he had made use 
 of, he gave unto his servant just as he 
 laid himself down to receive the stroke, 
 and commanded him to deliver that pa- 
 per unto me as soon as he was dead, 
 which he did accordingly. We had 
 scarce made an end of reading this pa- 
 per, when Lieut. Colonel Beecher, the 
 officer appointed to convey him and the 
 other condemned lords, with Sir John 
 Owen, to the place of execution, knock- 
 ed at the door, and told him it was time 
 for his lordship to go, whose summons 
 he very readily and cheerfully obeyed. 
 " Presently afterwards, Duke Hamil- 
 ton, the Earl of Holland, the Earl of 
 Norwich and he, together with Sir John 4 
 Owen, were carried through St. James's 
 Park in sedans, to Sir Robert Cotton's 
 house beyond the upper end of West- 
 minster Hall, where they were all in 
 one room, and stayed there at least an 
 hour before Duke Hamilton (who was 
 ordered to die first) was carried to the 
 place of execution, which was upon a 
 scaffold just before Westminster Hall, in 
 the new palace. During the time of 
 their stay in Sir Robert Cotton's house, 
 my Lord Capel, finding his stomach a 
 little ill, and fearing he might be worse, 
 if he did not do then what he had for a 
 long time accustomed himself to do 
 daily, called me aside and asked me 
 whether he might not take a pipe of to- 
 bacco without scandal, saying, he was 
 afraid it might very much discompose 
 
LADY CAPEL. 107 
 
 him if he did not ; I told him I thought 
 he might, and that in prudence he ought 
 to do it, rather than hazard any such in- 
 convenience at such a time, when he had 
 need to be in the*best temper: where- 
 upon Duke Hamilton and the Earl of 
 Holland, drinking each of them a little 
 wine to comfort their spirits, he took a 
 little tobacco to the same end also : all 
 the time of his being there (which was 
 at least two hours, he being the last of 
 the three that was to be put to death) 
 he spent either in conference with me, 
 or in soliloquies and prayers unto God : 
 at last, when (the other two lords being 
 already executed) Lieut. Colonel Beech- 
 er came to fetch him to the scaffold, he 
 first took his leave of my Lord of Nor- 
 wich and Sir John Owen, who were re- 
 prieved ; giving my Lord of Norwich 
 his cane, and would have taken his leave 
 there of me also, but I told him I would 
 wait upon him to the scaffold, and, if I 
 might be suffered, to do him the best 
 service I could in assisting him in the 
 last act of his tragedy : then, before he 
 went out of the room, turning him to the 
 Lieut. Colonel and his soldiers, (who 
 were then, and had been his guard du- 
 ring his imprisonment in St. James's 
 house,) • Gentlemen, (said he,) I do not 
 only from my heart forgive you, but 
 thank you for all the kindness and ci- 
 vility I have found from you, and as I 
 forgive you, so I forgive your officers 
 also, even those that are the authors of 
 
108 ELIZABETH 
 
 my death ; for I verily believe that none 
 of them do what they do out of any mal- 
 ice at all to me, but because I stand in 
 the way of something else they have to 
 do, which they think' I must and will 
 oppose, as long as I live, to the utmost 
 of my power.' Then calling me to him, 
 and giving me his watch to keep as a 
 remembrance of him, ' Doctor, (said he,) 
 I believe they will not suffer you to ac- 
 company and assist me upon the scaf- 
 fold ; but I thank God, the work, where- 
 in I stood especially in need of your 
 help, is done ; I heartily thank God and 
 you for it. All that I shall desire of you 
 more, is to assist me with your prayers 
 while I am alive, and to do the best you 
 can to comfort my poor wife when I am 
 dead ; and in your prayers for me, de- 
 sire Almighty God to assist me with his 
 grace, that in this last act of my life I 
 may so behave myself as becomes a 
 good Christian dying in and for so good 
 a cause as this is : and particularly that 
 for the manner of my death, it may be 
 with an humble confidence in God's 
 mercy, and with a modest assurance of 
 a better life ; and lastly, that I may 
 neither say nor do any thing that may 
 savour either of a base fear or of a vain 
 ostentation.' 
 
 " When he had said this, he was imme- 
 diately conducted by the aforesaid Lieut. 
 Colonel and soldiers through Westmin- 
 ster Hall, and betwixt the guard of sol- 
 diers which stood all along and kept off 
 
LADY CAPEL. 109 
 
 the people which thronged to see him, 
 and who, admiring the courage and con- 
 stancy that appeared in his very coun- 
 tenance, and mien itself, did generally 
 commend and bless him, and prayed for 
 him with loud exclamations as he went 
 by them. 
 
 " I followed him as far as the foot of 
 the scaffold, and would have gone up 
 after him, but the Lieut. Colonel would 
 not suffer me ; though either of the other 
 lords had their divines there with them, 
 but they were Presbyterians, and I was 
 generally known to be a Royalist and 
 Episcopal, which was the only reason I 
 can imagine why they should not suffer 
 me to appear before such a multitude of 
 people as an assistant at such an action ; 
 unless it were, perhaps, that they would 
 have the people believe that the Lord 
 Capel died indeed resolutely, like an old 
 Roman : but that the constancy and 
 courage he showed at his death, was but 
 an effect of his natural temper and con- 
 stitution, and not of a Christian faith 
 and hope, or of any sense of piety, as 
 appeared by his refusing or not caring 
 to have a divine with him at his death : 
 which was most false, indeed, dying for 
 loyalty as he did, he would not in the 
 last act of his life make use of any of 
 those ministers whom he had reason to 
 think had been the contrivers and plot- 
 ters, or at least the promoters and abet- 
 tors, of the most causeless and most 
 
110 ELIZABETH 
 
 horrid rebellion that ever had been ie 
 the world. 
 
 " When I saw that I could be no fur- 
 ther useful to him, (he having embraced 
 me and taken his last leave of me at the 
 foot of the scaffold,) I presently got my- 
 self out of the place, and out of the hor- 
 ror of that sight, which nothing but the 
 consideration of doing him some service 
 could have hired me to see. 
 
 " How he behaved himself afterwards 
 upon the scaffold, both before and at his- 
 death, his best friends need desire no 
 better testimony than that which was 
 there given by his enemies, who could 
 not choose but admire and applaud thafc 
 virtue of his, which their barbarous cru- 
 elty would not suffer the world to enjoy 
 any longer. 
 
 * fc Thus died that truly noble, truly 
 valiant, truly Christian, and every way 
 most truly worthy and right honourable 
 the Lord Capel ; a great example of 
 virtue, piety, and loyalty — in the midst 
 of a most villanous, profane, and rebel- 
 lious generation. A man whom the 
 world never valued to his worth, until it 
 grew to be unworthy of him. 
 
 George Morley." 
 
 (Ita testor.) 
 
 " Though I writ this narrative whilst 
 things were fresh in my memory, yet I 
 omitted one thing worthy the taking no- 
 tice of by posterity, viz., that a little 
 before he went to the scaffold, he told 
 
LADY CAPEL, 111 
 
 me that if I thought there was nothing 
 of vain ostentation in it, he would give 
 order that his heart should be taken out 
 of his body, and kept in a silver box, 
 until his majesty that now is, came 
 home, (as he doubted not but he would,) 
 and then that it might be presented unto 
 him, with his humble desire, that where 
 the king his father was interred, it might 
 be buried at his feet, in testimony of the 
 zeal he had for his service, and the af- 
 fection he had for his person whilst he 
 lived ; which intention of his, being ap- 
 proved by me, was afterwards put in 
 execution, as far at least as it could be 
 by him, or those whom he entrusted 
 with it. For, as soon as the king came 
 home, (whom I had told of it whilst he 
 was abroad,) I brought Sir Thomas Cor- 
 bet to him, and saw him give the silver 
 box, with that generous and loyal heart 
 in it, to the king's own hands ; what is 
 since become of it 1 know not."* 
 
 * Extracted from " Bishop Morley's account 
 of the manner of the death of the Right Hon. 
 Arthur Lord Capel, who was beheaded by the 
 rebels, March 9th, 1649. Copied from the ori- 
 ginal paper in the Bishop's own writing." • 
 
 d 2 
 
112 
 
 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 Mrs. Basire is only known by the 
 letters which passed between her and 
 her husband, celebrated by writers of 
 his day for his great learning, and fideli- 
 ty to the Church by whom he was 
 adopted. Her maiden name was Fran- 
 ces Corbett, of a good family in Shrop- 
 shire, but no further particulars are 
 known relating to her, except such as 
 concern the attachment between her 
 and Dr. Basire, and her subsequent con- 
 duct as his wife, through both peaceful 
 and troublesome times. 
 
 He was born at Rouen, in 1607, of a 
 Protestant family in the lowest order of 
 French nobility, but at the age of twenty- 
 two he came over to England and re- 
 ceived Holy Orders from Thomas Mor- 
 ton, then Bishop of Lichfield and Cov- 
 entry, who took him to be his domestic 
 chaplain, and removed him to his palace 
 at Auckland, on his translation to the 
 See of Durham in 1632. He was resi- 
 ding there when he addressed the fol- 
 lowing letters to Mistress Frances Cor- 
 bett, before they had obtained her 
 father's consent to their marriage, which 
 was probably delayed till her suitor had 
 obtained some provision for a wife. 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 113 
 
 " To my dear friend, Miss Frances Cor- 
 
 hetU at Eggemont. J. H. S. 
 " Dear Fanny, &c, &c. 
 
 " I hope the last letters I sent by 
 London to you and your loving sisters, 
 about six weeks ago, have had better 
 luck than those I sent by Halifax, of 
 which I can hear no news ; albeit I have 
 written to Mr. Ramsden about it. I am 
 afraid they came not safe to his hands. 
 You may see how covetous I am of any 
 opportunity to send unto you, only to 
 let you know still how my heart is to- 
 wards you, how I daily offer up your 
 name with me in that sacred duty, for 
 God knows the hearts.. That faith and 
 Christian submission to God's good 
 providence, which you professed in your 
 last, cheered me up wonderfully. Go 
 on, sweet soul, and depend still upon 
 God ; and He shall sooner or later pro- 
 mote thee; if not by me, (for alas! what 
 am I that I should promise aught ? my 
 breath is in my nostrils,) yet by some 
 other means. It may be so much the 
 better, the greater, as more unexpected. 
 I charge you still to abound in the acts 
 of devotion and true repentance ; to 
 cleave to your God by frequency in 
 prayer, reading, &c, and a diligent and 
 conscionable use of all God's sacred ordi- 
 dances, for by these God conveys into 
 the soul His Grace, His Spirit, His Di- 
 vine Life : ah ! what is the whole world's 
 weight to one grain of grace at the hour 
 of Death ? On Wednesday last I preach- 
 d 3 
 
114 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 ed the funeral of another of my Lord's 
 sisters, a most godly gentlewoman. Just 
 as I was commending her soul unto God, 
 she expired most sweetly. Lord, pre- 
 pare us for that great passage ! 
 
 " Since my return from you, there is 
 nothing fallen. I praise God, I am very 
 well content, if you be so too : God's 
 hand is not shortened. 
 
 '• I beseech God to cause His face to 
 shine upon thee, to sanctify us one for 
 another, to prosper our intentions, to 
 pardon us all the vanities incident about 
 it, to give us grace to go on in His most 
 holy fear, that if it be His good will and 
 for His glory, it may, in His good time, 
 succeed, to our mutual comfort, and the 
 edification of both our families, mean- 
 while to endue us both with much pa- 
 tience and true mortification. But, if it 
 be not His will, to work our hearts to 
 an humble submission, and perfect re- 
 signation of us to Himself. Join with 
 me in this prayer, and rest assured that 
 I am 
 
 " Your most faithful friend, J. B. 
 
 "A. C. March 11, 1635. 
 
 " My hearty respects to your noble 
 sisters." 
 
 » To the noble M. F. C. J. H. S. 
 " Dear Love, &c. &c. 
 
 " Soon after my return, I sent a packet 
 to Mr. Ramsden of Halifax, to be con- 
 veyed to you ; I hope you have received 
 it long since. For the present, I praise 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 115 
 
 God my soul prospers, I overflow with, 
 content, I feel no lack, but of an oppor- 
 tunity to approve my sincere intentions 
 to you- ward, yet far be it from me or 
 you, to limit God and tie him to a time : 
 rather strive in your prayers with me, 
 for an holy submission to His gracious 
 providence, about the manner, means, 
 time, place ; in a word, all the circum- 
 stances of our preferment. He is a very 
 good God, and knows what is best for 
 all His children ; only, be sure you 
 be one of them, by constant and patient 
 obedience, and mark the end of it at 
 last. 
 
 " Read but David's 37th Psalm, and yo*s. 
 •cannot, (if you but throw yourself into 
 His arms,) but lie quietly in his lap. 
 Fail not, I pray you, to write to me 
 when you can : God be gracious unto 
 you, and lead you by the hand through 
 all the passages of your life, so prays 
 " Your assured friend and 
 
 " loving well-wisher, 
 
 " J. B." 
 
 " From A. Castle, this 25th September^ 
 1635. 
 
 " I pray remember my service to your 
 two worthy sisters, whom I wrote unto 
 at my last return. I remember my 
 promise to my sister Mary, and have 
 sent about it a month ago." 
 
 " I would I durst present my humble 
 service to your noble father." 
 
 d 4 
 
116 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 " To the virtuous Gentlewoman, my very 
 loving friend, Mrs. Frances Corbett, 
 Sfc. J. H. S. 
 " Love, &c. &c. 
 
 " This fair opportunity of Mr. "Welles 
 of Newport, allures me to write again, 
 and write this to second a former letter, 
 which I sent this last week : see how I 
 delight to talk with you ! Your books 
 I have packed up, if this bearer will be 
 troubled with them. These two I send 
 you myself are, 1. An Introduction to 
 a Devout Life, &c. 2. The Marrow of 
 the Oracles of God : two books which, 
 next to God's own, my soul hath been 
 much taken with. The first was made 
 by a French bishop, yet is the book free 
 from popery, (for I have read it afore- 
 hand for your soul's sake,) only where 
 you see a cross at the margin, there it 
 may be mistaken by some ; else, all is 
 safe. The third little book, called an 
 Abridgment, &c, is Mr. Johnson's gift; 
 which he would have sent better bountl, 
 but that here at Durham, in this time of 
 sickness, the bookbinder had no gold, 
 &c. He commends his hearty love unto 
 you. They are choice books, all three ; 
 and so they light on devout hands, they 
 are full of good inspiration. I have 
 prayed God to sanctify the use of them 
 to your soul : you must not for fashion 
 sake, but read them with a full purpose 
 of heart, to frame your life by their 
 godly directions : and therefore you 
 must not deem it enough to read them 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 117 
 
 once over only, but once or twice over 
 yearly, till you have turned them into 
 you/ ordinary practice. Such precious 
 books, if you throw them by, may rise 
 up in judgment against you. The first 
 of them, (and so were those of your sis- 
 ter's,) were bound by those devout vir- 
 gins I once told yon of: who knows but 
 the prayers they might bestow at the 
 binding, may do you good at the reading 
 of them. Yet the insides are the thing 
 I sent them to you for, more than the 
 outsides. God (according to their several 
 titles) make your life devout, fill your 
 soul full of the marrow of His graces? 
 and evermore direct you in the constant 
 practice of Christianity : so prays from 
 the bottom of his soul, 
 
 " Your ever-loving friend, 
 
 M J. B." 
 
 "From D. C. this lQth of August, 1636. 
 " I wonder still at your sisters, espe- 
 cially your sister Mary, (such is her 
 goodnature,) that they have quite for- 
 gotten me." 
 
 These letters are selected from several 
 in the same strain, published with the 
 rest of Dr. Basire's correspondence, by 
 the Rev. W. N. Darnell, from whence 
 nearly all the facts relating toDr.Basire 
 and his wife, have been collected. In 
 the year 1636, he received the degree 
 of Bachelor of Divinity at Cambridge, 
 and was appointed by the University to 
 d 5 
 
118 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 be one of their twelve preachers through- 
 out England and Ireland. Before the 
 end of the year, Bishop Morton gave 
 him the living of Eaglescliff or Eggles- 
 cliff, in the county of Durham, then re- 
 ported to be worth <£240 a year. 
 
 In 1637 he took up his abode in his 
 new home, and his marriage took place, 
 either in this or the previous year, but 
 no record of it is contained in the letters 
 addressed to him at this time by his 
 learned friends. They congratulate him 
 on his preferment, and after a time kind 
 messages of remembrance to his wife 
 appear in their letters. 
 
 " Remember me, in the most friendly 
 way, to your Priscilla and my Phebe," 
 is the expression of his friend Nathaniel 
 Ward, in September, 1642. These years 
 seem to have been passed by Mr. and 
 Mrs. Basire, in the quiet enjoyment of 
 their home, and intercourse with their 
 friends, by visits and letters. Four 
 children were born during their abode 
 at Eaglescliff, of whom Isaac, the eldest, 
 was sent at a very early age to West- 
 minster School, to be educated by Dr. 
 Busby, one of the most intimate and 
 constant of his father's friends. They 
 corresponded frequently, and Dr. Busby 
 wrote also with cordial affection to Mrs. 
 Basire, as appears from the following 
 letter : 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 119 
 
 " To my worthily esteemed and much 
 honoured friend, Mrs. Basire. 
 
 " Most virtuous and truly beloved 
 in Christ Jesu, 
 
 " Your friendly acceptance of my re- 
 spects, to your husband, self or child, 
 doth oblige me faithfully to perform 
 them. And I could wish that my for- 
 tunes were as ample as your merits, that 
 I might not be defective in my expres- 
 sions, no more than in my desires, of 
 entertaining yours and my dearly be- 
 loved. For which my hearty and affec- 
 tionate regard, I am abundantly repaid 
 in the holy and learned conversation of 
 him : and it is in your power to make 
 me eternally obliged to your family, if 
 you shall be pleased to trouble your 
 memory with my unworthy self, and to 
 recommend so heinous an offender to the 
 tender mercies of Christ Jesus, by your 
 daily and frequent prayers. Thus shall 
 I make a happy change ; and for my 
 poor corporal refreshments of your hus- 
 band, I shall receive back your invalua- 
 ble spiritual comforts, for so in some re- 
 gard I shall esteem them yours, knowing 
 that the prayers of the faithful avail 
 much. 
 
 " I should solicitously desire this fa- 
 vour from you, but that I believe your 
 Christian gentleness, without any im- 
 portunity, will out of pity do this pious 
 courtesy : and for it you will have some 
 return of vour charity into your own 
 d 6 
 
120 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 bosom from God, and the assured obli- 
 gation of a poor sinner, 
 
 " Your unworthy friend, 
 
 " It. Busby." 
 "December 16, 1641." 
 
 Whenever Dr. Basire went to London, 
 he staid with Dr. Busby in his house at 
 Westminster, and he was probably stay- 
 ing there when this letter was written, 
 or just before it, for in the same month 
 he was sworn chaplain extraordinary to 
 the king. 
 
 His days of peace and domestic com- 
 fort were drawing to a close ; the troubles 
 of the time increased rapidly; and when, 
 in December, 1643, he was collated by 
 Bishop Morton to the seventh stall in 
 Durham, and in the August following 
 was appointed Archdeacon of Northum- 
 berland, he was neither able to perform 
 the duties nor receive the emoluments 
 of his new preferments. He is believed 
 to have been in Carlisle during eleven 
 months of blockade and want of food. 
 
 In 1645, the living of Stanhope became 
 vacant ; and as Bishop Morton, oppressed 
 and overawed by the rebels, dared not 
 dispose of it, the king, upon its lapsing 
 to the crown, gave it to Dr. Basire, then 
 in attendance upon him at Oxford, which 
 appointment the Bishop announced to 
 him with hearty good wishes. In the 
 following year he was summoned to at- 
 tend upon the king in his office of chap- 
 lain : Wood says that he preached fre- 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 121 
 
 •quently before the king and parliament 
 •at Oxford. In the course of this year or 
 the next, he was seized upon at Eagles- 
 cliff, and conveyed to Stockton Castle, 
 after which he escaped from his country 
 and took refuge in France, to seek a 
 subsistence for his family, which he 
 could no longer procure for them at 
 home. 
 
 Mrs. Basire was left at EaglesclifF, 
 with her four children, expecting the 
 birth of a fifth, and trying to obtain the 
 allowance promised by the parliament to 
 the wives and families of delinquent 
 clergymen ; this was supposed to be a 
 fifth of their estates and goods seized by 
 act of parliament, but was not obtained 
 without much trouble, expense, and dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 In the mean time her husband pro- 
 ceeded to Rouen, where he possessed a 
 small patrimony, amounting to about <£8 
 a year. Here he was joined by three 
 pupils, entrusted to him by their rela- 
 tions, — Thomas Lambton, whose father, 
 Sir William, had fallen in the king's 
 service at Marston Moor, and his elder 
 brother at Wakefield ; William Ash- 
 burnham, the son of that gentleman of 
 the bed-chamber to King Charles, who 
 is remembered by his unfortunate at- 
 tempt to effect his master's escape ; and 
 a youth named Andrews, also of a loyal 
 family. 
 
 He wrote thus from Rouen to his 
 wife : 
 
 d 7 
 
122 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 " To my very loving friend, Mrs. Fran- 
 ces Basire. 
 
 " Leave this with Eleazer Potts, next 
 to the Rose Tavern, upon the Quay's 
 side in Newcastle. — To be sent to Blax- 
 ton." 
 
 " Jesu ! 
 " My dear yokefellow, 
 
 11 Your pair of letters of the eighth of 
 March, I did receive the fifth of April. 
 I am weary of writing so often to Mr. 
 Davison, from whom, for all my letters, 
 I have not received one line of answer, 
 and so send him word. If the lady send 
 her son, she may be assured of my spe- 
 cial care in his education. Scholars 
 liere I have none at all, nor am likely, 
 the English are so low brought for 
 means. May God hear your wish, and 
 in his good time restore us to each other ! 
 If not, God prepare and strengthen us, 
 still even unto death, rather than for- 
 swear and betray the truth, and then 
 live still miserable and infamous too. I 
 have not yet received one farthing out 
 of my estate ; so that all I can do for you 
 at present, is heartily to pray for your 
 good speed about your fifth, ...and about 
 every thing you take in hand, especially 
 about your safe delivery, which by me 
 and others hath been recommended to 
 God in extraordinary, above these three 
 weeks ; and shall be so, till you bless 
 me with the joyful news of it. Thanks 
 to Mistress Garnet for the continuance 
 of her care. 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 123 
 
 " In my last letter to you of the 
 eleventh of March, I did enclose four, 
 viz., to my Lady Blaxton, to Mistress 
 Garnet, to her brother, and to Mr. Da 
 vison again. Make your letters as thin 
 as you can, for cost of carriage to my 
 friends, and superscribe them only to 
 ♦my very loving friend, Dr. Basire,' 
 sending them to Mr. Cole, or Sir Peter 
 Richaut. The Lord judge betwixt you 
 and Bushell, for I know no other way. 
 God continue his blessings of health, to 
 you, my children, and my friends. Mr. 
 Anderson, honest man, remembers you 
 with care for you. Till I hear from you, 
 I will write to you every week once, 
 only to please you. Whenever your 
 time of travail be, I shall be sure some 
 time that day to be with you in the 
 spirit, though absent in body. I will 
 write to my brother Watts, as I have 
 already done to my dear friend Busby, 
 from whom I did receive lately a most 
 kind letter. When you send to him, 
 thank him for it. Finally, my dearest, 
 pray for God's grace and blessing upon 
 me ; and, in all your straits, look up to 
 God's providence and promise, six times 
 reiterated in the Bible, that He will 
 never fail you nor forsake you ; the daily 
 prayer of 
 
 " Your very loving husband, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 " Rouen, April 8, 1647." 
 
 b 8 
 
124 MRS. BASIRKV 
 
 " To my very loving friend. Mistress 
 Frances Basire. Send this to Mr. Da- 
 vison, in the county of Durham. 
 " Jesu ! 
 " Ah, my dearest, 
 
 m What a cross is this to me, that in 
 five weeks' space I cannot obtain one 
 line from you ; what, are you now be- 
 come a worse wife, than you once were 
 a loving mistress ? Know you not that, 
 under God, your life and health is my 
 only comfort ? By Sir Nicholas Cole at 
 London, I could easily hear from you 
 once a fortnight at least. I pray, as you 
 loved me once, bless me speedily with 
 the longed-for good news of your own 
 safe delivery, and of my good Lady 
 Blaxton's welfare, and of all our good 
 friends ; as for me, my landlord is going 
 to live with his son in Holland, I have 
 been fain to remove my quarters. Here 
 I am ; (not in Rouen, but as near it as 
 Yarum is to little Eaglescliff;) my 
 chamber lies me in seven or eight shil- 
 lings a month : yea, I have a whole little 
 summer-house to myself alone : only 
 once or twice a day, a little boy waits 
 on me for necessaries ; my little house 
 is within a garden, the most pleasant 
 place that ever I lived in, if I had but 
 your own sweet self in it with me. I 
 make shift to live, God be thanked, as 
 yet — I told you how, by the unexpected 
 relief sent me from London, by a good 
 friend of yours and mine, that must be 
 nameless. I continue still constant in 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 125 
 
 my old way, for which constancy I suf- 
 fer almost as much persecution here 
 amongst mine own, and by mine own, 
 as I might have suffered in England. 
 But our good God strengthens me and 
 comforts me, and do you so too by your 
 good letters and devout prayers for, 
 " Yours more than ever, 
 
 " B. J. 
 11 Rouen, this 4th of June, 1647." 
 
 44 Ah, how sad was I, when I heard 
 that Captain Garnet had compounded 
 now at last, notwithstanding his good 
 resolutions to the contrary !" 
 
 He seems in his letter, to allude to his 
 being persecuted by his friends and re- 
 lations among the French Protestants. 
 At a later period he acted as their min- 
 ister at Pera, where he officiated accord- 
 ing to the Liturgy of the Church of 
 England, and received a stipend for his 
 services, though in some doubt whether 
 they 44 would long suffer him to go on in 
 the wa}' - ," out of which, he said, 44 God 
 willing, I am resolved not to depart, 
 though for it I lose this, as I have lost 
 all." His English friends did not forget 
 him in this time of trouble ; he received 
 letters of cordial affection and earnest 
 entreaty for the benefit of his prayers, 
 from Dr. Busby, and from Sir George 
 RadclifFe, the last of whom also consult- 
 ed him on the controversy with Rome, 
 and the possible hope of re-union. 
 
 A gleam of comfort with regard to af- 
 d 9 
 
126 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 fairs in England, appears in a short Tes- 
 ter from Sir Edward Nicholas, who 
 writes in July, 1647 : I hope it will not 
 now be long before we hear that peace 
 in England is in so good forwardness, as 
 that honest men may return with com- 
 fort to their homes. Dr. Hammond 
 preached on Sunday se'nnight at Hat- 
 field, before the king, where service was 
 said according to the English Liturgy." 
 But this hope was of short duration. 
 
 On the 27th of August, .Dr. Basire 
 set out upon his travels, accompanied by 
 his pupils. They waited on the Queen 
 Henrietta and the Prince at St. Ger- 
 mains, and on Christmas Day, attended 
 Divine service at the chapel of Sir Ri- 
 chard Browne's house, who. being the 
 king's agent, continued there the offices 
 of the English Church. Dr. Basire 
 wrote thus from Paris : 
 
 " To my very good friend, Mistress- 
 Frances Basire, at Eaglescliff, near 
 Yarm. Leave this at Blaxton. 
 " Jesu! 
 " My dear Heart, 
 
 The further we remove into France, 
 the seldomer you are like to hear from 
 me : and therefore be not troubled, but 
 rather pray and hope the better. Direct 
 your letters hereafter thus : " a Monsieur 
 Basire par l'addresse de Monsieur Mey, 
 a. Rouen." I live now at Paris this 
 winter, and then in the spring better go 
 towards Italy, than towards Newgate. I 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 127 
 
 have more than once appointed you to 
 receive ten pounds from my Lady Lamb- 
 ton, which I have laid out of my purse 
 for her son, who hath written to her 
 about it. My Lady Radcliffe joyed me 
 by telling me, you looked very well on 
 it. Do so still, till I see it myself. 
 The affairs of England are still too much 
 troubled for me or honest men to fish in 
 it and catch. I shall shortly thank the 
 brethren Davisons, and the ladies at 
 Hutton-panell on your behalf: recom- 
 mend me to Sir William Blaxton and 
 his Lady, and to Mistress Garnet. God 
 bless my children and all my friends. 
 Would to God I were near you to make 
 good my vow at our marriage, to cherish 
 you in sickness, as in health. But it 
 must be when it pleases God. Mean- 
 while we must cheerfully live and die 
 asunder, if God so ordain it, rather than 
 the least ways murmur. But I hope we 
 shall meet not to part more till death : 
 which God prepare us all for, so prays 
 " Your faithful husband, 
 
 "J. B. 
 " From Paris, November 20, 1647." 
 
 " Mr. Lambton thanks you for the 
 care you have of him. I am sure I have 
 laid out above twenty pounds to furnish 
 him with clothes and other necessaries. 
 Honest Mr. Anderson, who is now here 
 with us, commends him kindly to you, 
 and to Nan and John Glover." 
 
 In the spring of the year, 1648, Dr. 
 
128 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 Basire and his pupils pursued their jour- 
 ney, and after visiting the south of 
 France, and several towns of Italy, they 
 sailed by Sicily and Malta, and reached 
 Rome on February 26, 1649. They 
 were nearly lost in a storm off the coast 
 of Sicily, to which he alludes in one of 
 his letters to his wife, and of which he 
 remarks in his Journal, *' It was on the 
 same day and hour, on which our once 
 gracious, now glorious Charles I. was 
 martyred." 
 
 In another letter he says, 
 
 " Touching the state of affairs in 
 England, whatever the event prove, 
 from the crown of the head to the sole 
 of the foot, pray we still against all mur- 
 muring and impatiency (for God's ways 
 are not as our wa}'s) and labour we for 
 a full resignation of ourselves, and all 
 ours to him : endeavouring a sincere 
 reformation of our hearts and lives, for 
 God is very angry against the whole na- 
 tion, and I do fear a decree. However, 
 let us prepare to meet our God, and 
 never trust in the arm of flesh, for all 
 men are Scots, and losses cannot but 
 make me sad : and the more, because at 
 this distance it cannot be in my power or 
 providence to help you much at present." 
 
 " Have a special care to catechise my 
 children yourself after the good old way ; 
 that they be not poisoned with rebel- 
 lious and schismatical principles. Mr. 
 Ashburnham's heavy afflictions about 
 the king's persecution may, I fear, have 
 
MRS. BAS1RE. 129 
 
 obstructed his good intentions towards 
 you. Mr. William Ashburnbam and 
 Mr. Lambton present their service to 
 you, and I to Mr. Garnet (whom God 
 bless) for his gallant constancy. 
 
 " I pray set some time apart to give 
 God solemn thanks for our extraordinary 
 deliverances, by land and by water ; and 
 to offer up for us the seven Psalms of 
 Thanksgiving, which I did once send 
 you. I need not bid you continue your 
 prayers for our good speed in all our 
 travels. Teach our children to do the 
 same, and God may hear them. 
 
 " About a month hence, God willing, 
 we remove to Venice ; and if you do 
 not hear from me so oft as you wish, and 
 I shall endeavour, impute it not to my 
 neglect, but to the sad disasters in Eng- 
 land, and to the civil wars in France* 
 which hinders the free passage of our 
 letters. 
 
 " To confirm your faith, increase your 
 humility, enlarge your repentance, and 
 to move you to compassion towards your 
 desolate Church, and bleeding country, 
 you shall do well to read over with devo- 
 tion, the book of the Lamentations." 
 
 This request he enforces in another 
 letter, saying, " God pardon our sins 
 and increase our faith ; to strengthen 
 which and humble us all, I do advise all 
 my friends, interested in the English 
 desolation, to read the book of the La- 
 mentations." 
 
 The minuteness of the letters written 
 
130 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 by him to his wife, brings before us 
 now a lively impression of the reality of 
 the times there spoken of, the urgent 
 difficulties which pressed upon the loyal 
 servants of their king and Church, and 
 the sacrifices they were called upon to 
 make for conscience' sake. The sim- 
 plicity with which he wrote gives also 
 an impression of truth, and adds weight 
 to the expressions of faith and resigna- 
 tion intermixed with the hearty assur- 
 ances of affection to his wife and chil- 
 dren. His wife's answers, of which 
 none are preserved earlier than 1G51, 
 have a like character of truth and reali- 
 ty. Their separation was now become 
 wider than ever : for when his pupils, 
 after completing their education, had 
 left him one by one, he set out upon a 
 journey to more distant countries. 
 
 In one of the first letters of hers that 
 is preserved, she writes, " I praise God 
 for all your contentedness to bear your 
 crosses, for that is the way to make 
 them easy and light to you, to consider 
 from whom they come, and how justly 
 we deserve them, and how necessary 
 they are for us, and how they cannot be 
 avoided in this life. 
 
 " My dearest, I shall not fail to look 
 out those places in the Scripture, and 
 pray for you as becometh your obedient 
 wife and servant in the Lord, 
 
 "J. B." 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 131 
 
 " a Mons. Mons. de Preaumont. 
 *• Jesu ! 
 « Eaglescliff, 8th Feb., 1653. 
 " My dearest, 
 
 " I praise God for your welfare, but I 
 found it something heavy for me to bear, 
 your being so far from me, and being a 
 whole year but two days before I heard 
 from you, which is your letter 22d of 
 July, I have ; and yours in May to me 
 and your friends, with your tokens, are 
 miscarried, as all mine to you are. Now 
 I write to you two for one, and send 
 them according to your directions. I 
 sent for a note of the barrel of oil, and 
 of all the parcels of currants you sent 
 me from Zante : but the oil and the last 
 currants were not of the best, which 
 made them, they gave not so much as 
 you thought. I have all my uncle's let- 
 ters, to show what they all came to, and 
 have them all writ down, and all the 
 moneys I have had from you, and the 
 twenty pounds you sent me twelve 
 months ago, when you went for Jerusa- 
 lem. All your friends here, were ex- 
 ceedingly glad to hear from you : the 
 Davisons, and Dr. Clarke, Mrs. Garnet, 
 Mrs. Man, and hearty Blad, and our old 
 servant, Ann Robinson, and all the rest. 
 I have not heard from our son Peter 
 these two years. I have writ to Mons. 
 Roussel very oft, but cannot hear from 
 him. Present my service and dear love 
 to Dr. Duncan, and give him thanks for 
 his cordial letter to me. I desire much 
 
132 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 to follow his direction. I shall not fail 
 to pray for your noble friend Mr. Daniel 
 Pennington, but yet envy him, that he 
 should enjoy that happiness I want. But 
 so that you are well and content, I shall 
 wholly submit to God, till He see it for 
 me to enjoy what I want. I thank you 
 very kindly for all your great and con- 
 stant love to me, though so far off, and 
 so long as almost seven years. I do as- 
 sure you mine is the same to you. For 
 Isaac, I have written to my friend Bus- 
 by, but have had no answer. I have let 
 him know by Mr. Carter that you have 
 writ to him, but it miscarried, and I writ 
 to her to send me his answer, and I 
 shall let you know, and the time I have 
 them all up with me, I shall, God wil- 
 ling, bring them up as well as I can. 
 Our daughter Mary is very serviceable 
 to me when I am not well. I have been 
 very sore troubled with the stone, and a 
 weakness in the back. For the stone I 
 have got some cure ; but for my back, I 
 think it will be hard to get it cured. I 
 praise God I am very well, and I grow 
 fat. Your delight here is very well. 
 Our four children here present their 
 duty to you. John very much desires 
 to see his father, for he says he is gone 
 so far, as he thinks he knows not the 
 way back, or else he wants a horse. I 
 pray God send us all a happy meeting. 
 
 " I am yours faithful in the Lord, 
 
 "J. B." 
 
 Whilst Mrs. Basire was thus longing 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 133 
 
 for news of her husband, he suffered 
 anxiety from not receiving her letters. 
 
 " Jesu ! 
 " My dearest, 
 
 " If I were assured that yourself are 
 in as good health, and as well provided 
 for, you and our little ones, as I myself 
 (through God's good Providence) am in 
 this place, it would make me digest so 
 much the more easily our so long forced 
 absence ; but not having received any 
 letter from you this twelvemonth, 
 though I have written unto you not a 
 few, that, chiefly, inclines me to return 
 into Christendom, that if I cannot be 
 with you, (as is my heart's wish,) yet I 
 may be nearer you ; and it were but to 
 express my respect towards you and 
 mine, of whom, as I am never unmind- 
 ful in my prayers, so, to my power, 
 neither have I been slack in my cares 
 for you. About this time twelvemonth, 
 I did order twenty pounds to be paid by 
 Mr. William Williams, at London, to 
 your uncle Pigot for your use ; more I 
 have not been able to do, partly, because 
 of my late voyage to Jerusalem, from 
 whence, though not without some cost, 
 I am safely returned, God be praised. 
 Thither as I went to view the whole 
 land of Canaan, the better to understand 
 the Scriptures ; so, without superstition, 
 to worship my Saviour in the very 
 places where he did live and die for us 
 miserable sinners ; and I pray God, that 
 
134 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 1 may retain those impressions of devo- 
 tion occasioned by the sight of those 
 places, wherein, you may be sure, that 
 as well as yourself, as yours, together 
 with our chief friends, were fervently 
 remembered ; to-morrow, God willing, 
 I am going to Antioch, (two days jour- 
 ney from hence,) where the disciples 
 were first called Christians, as you may 
 read, Acts xi. 26. And about a month 
 hence, I do purpose to leave this place, 
 and to travel towards Constantinople, 
 some five hundred miles by land, for 
 thither I am invited, and there I may 
 better expect a good opportunity to pass 
 through Germany, and so approach near 
 unto you ; these journeys by land, are as 
 toilsome as expensive ; but as contrary 
 fleets are now abroad, 'tis far more dan- 
 gerous by sea ; as for my good success, 
 remember who brought me hither safe, 
 and still trust in Him for as safe a re- 
 turn, no way dismayed though you hear 
 not from me. 
 
 " From Aleppo, 20th February, 1653." 
 
 Wood says of Dr. Basire's travels, 
 that he continued some months at Alep- 
 po, and had frequent conversations with 
 the Patriarch of Antioch. From thence 
 he went to Jerusalem, and received 
 much honour there both from the Greeks 
 and Latins, from the latter of whom he 
 procured an entrance into the Temple of 
 the Sepulchre, with the honour due to a 
 priest. After travelling through Pales- 
 tine, he went into Mesopotamia, and re- 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 135 
 
 turning again to Aleppo, he came the 
 next spring to Constantinople, having on 
 his way examined the Confessions of 
 Faith of the various Christian Churches, 
 Armenians, Maronites, and others with 
 whom he held intercourse. 
 
 Whilst residing at Constantinople he 
 endeavoured to prepare the way for a 
 communion between the Greek and 
 English Churches, with a reformation of 
 some of the grosser errors of the Greeks. 
 He persevered in his endeavours to make 
 known the Catechism of our Prayer- 
 book, for having already translated it 
 into Greek and Arabic, he now caused 
 it to be translated into Turkish, for the 
 inhabitants of Mesopotamia. These 
 labours excited the suspicions of the 
 Latins, so much that he was threatened 
 with assassination on his way from some 
 of the Greek churches, but he was not 
 deterred by these threats frgm pursuing 
 his various labours. 
 
 Whilst he was thus occupied, he re- 
 ceived an invitation from George Ra- 
 gotzi, Vaivode of Transylvania, to be- 
 come Professor of Theology in bis Uni- 
 versity of Alba Julia or Weissemburg. 
 The Prince accompanied his letter by 
 the grant of an annual salary of eighteen 
 hundred Hungarian florins, and a place 
 of residence. 
 
 Dr. Basire accepted this offer, and 
 King Charles II. recommended him to 
 the Prince's favour, by a letter written 
 from Cologne in November, 1655. 
 
136 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 In the mean time his wife was feeling 
 the pain of his prolonged absence and 
 his distance from her, while she dread- 
 ed the difficulties to be incurred if she 
 should go to join him. 
 
 " To my good friend,- Dr. Isaac Basire, 
 this present. 
 
 30th May, 1654. 
 
 " Jesu ! 
 " My dearest, 
 
 " Yours of the 27th February, 1654, 
 I received May 22, and that hath been 
 all I have received from you since Feb- 
 ruary 20, 1653, your being so far from 
 me, and the times so very bad, I could 
 not hear from you, which made my ene- 
 my to threaten me to stay my fifth part 
 till I proved you were living : and old 
 Thomas Read began a suit against me 
 for the debt you owed him ; but I being 
 advised by my friends to answer the 
 suit, he was glad to let it fall. I praise 
 God which hath enabled me to go through 
 many troubles with thankfulness and 
 content. I did often think of your di- 
 rection, and I and our children meet so 
 much oftener at the throne of grace for 
 you, which I find now by my own ex- 
 perience the surest refuge. 'The devil 
 and the flesh I know hath and will be 
 busy, but through God's grace in me I 
 have and shall overcome them. 
 
 " My Lady Blaxton would often tell 
 me of a saying of yours, our cross may 
 be changed, but not removed. So 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 137 
 
 Lord, grant whatever He please to send 
 us for a cross, we may under it go with 
 Christian patience. 
 
 " The pain of my back and the stone 
 do very much increase, and yet I keep 
 fat. I want white wine to take my 
 powders in ; here is none to be got that 
 is good. I do heartily praise God for 
 your prospering in your calling, and 
 they that turn many to righteousness 
 they shall shine as stars. We do ex- 
 tremely want you and your brethren 
 here, for there are very many that are 
 fallen from the faith. Things are very 
 bad for the present, but it is thought by 
 all wise men they will be better, and 
 then I hope you will enjoy your own 
 with the comfort of a good conscience ; 
 and if you please to let me stay here for 
 a time till I see the event of things, 
 then as soon as you send I shall, with 
 God's assistance, obey you, though the 
 sea be never so terrible to me. Thou, 
 Lord, us direct, but in no case send for 
 me suddenly, for I trust God in His 
 providence and mercy will send you to 
 me, which is my soul's thirsting desire, 
 and in truth, your being so far from me 
 hath been some sorrow to me when I 
 could not hear from you : but I and our 
 children daily pray for your prospering 
 in your calling. To God glory, the 
 comfort and relief of us all. The chil- 
 dren, not knowing any thing, ask me 
 when you will come home, and when 
 they must go to see you." 
 
138 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 Mrs. Basire suffered some anxiety 
 about her son Peter, whom she sent to 
 her husband's friend and kinsman, Mr. 
 Roussel, to be educated at Rouen ; 
 whilst he was there, he suffered both 
 from ill health and from the ill manage- 
 ment of a bad master, with whom he 
 had been placed, and wrote after some 
 interval to his mother, to relate all that 
 had happened to him, and ask for news 
 of his family. Mr. Roussel wrote at 
 the same time, to beg to give up his 
 charge of Dr. Basire's affairs abroad, 
 which had become too burdensome to 
 him. It is said, that after Dr. Basire's 
 return to England, his son Peter joined 
 himself to the Romish Communion, to 
 the great grief of his parents ; but this 
 circumstance is not mentioned in any of 
 the letters ; his name does not appear 
 with that of Dr. Basire's other children 
 in his will. 
 
 Mrs. Basire forwarded to her husband 
 the letters from her son and Mr. Rous- 
 sel, accompanied by one of her own. 
 
 " Jesu ! 
 
 14th September, 1655. 
 " My dearest, 
 
 " This month of September, is a 
 whole year since I have received any 
 letter from you, your Prince sending an 
 agent to my Lord Protector here, and I 
 not hearing from you by him, made me 
 fear you were not with the Prince. I 
 did wish most heartily you had been the 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 139 
 
 agent yourself, for by that means I 
 might have come to have seen you. I 
 have praised God for your safe being 
 with the Prince, and for all his gracious 
 favours he hath been pleased to bestow 
 on you. I and our children, and my 
 good Lady Blaxton, which is now at 
 Hutton with Sir William, and remem- 
 ber them to you. We do constantly 
 pray for Prince George, and for his 
 Princess Sophia, and young Prince 
 Francis. I am very sad that your bur- 
 den is so great as to put you past your 
 rest, and do fear your health. For God's 
 sake and mine, and your children, un- 
 dertake no more than you are well able 
 to go through. I should praise our gra- 
 cious God, that he may fetch you over 
 to me with liberty of conscience, and 
 means to live on. I hope your gracious 
 Prince will not let the burden lie too 
 heavy on you, if you let him know it. 
 Sir, 1 most kindly thank you for your 
 discreet love to me, in not commanding 
 me rashly and suddenly out of England ; 
 my determinate will is to be obedient to 
 you, and to keep me constant to my se- 
 rious resolution, which I thought I had 
 satisfied you in my two former letters. 
 These are the chief things I aim at in 
 my stay from you ; the hopes of God's 
 providence in giving you your own, the 
 placing of some of our sons at Westmin- 
 ster, and settling the fifth part of them 
 and the payment of debts, the trial of 
 the country, how it may agree with my 
 
140 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 weak and sickly body, the uncertainty 
 of the country by reason of wars, the 
 remoteness and far distance, the language 
 unknown to me. My earnest desire is, 
 that I may have one of ours with my 
 friend Busby, which I could not have 
 all this time for want of a certain allow- 
 ance from you, being almost four years, 
 and receiving but twenty-two pound 
 from you, it hath gone very hard with 
 me, I having the fifth part of nothing 
 but the Parsonage [meaning Living] of 
 Eaglescliff, and paying all cesses and 
 billet [billeting soldiers] out of it. I 
 could not spare twelve pound a year 
 out of it, and durst not venture to send 
 him upon uncertainties, lest he should 
 be displeased as Mons. Roussel." 
 
 " For Dr. Basire, at his house, Alba 
 Julia, in Transylvania" 
 " Jesu! 
 " Eaglescliff, 24th January, 1656. 
 " My dearest, 
 
 " I have received your three letters, 
 since your safe arrival to the Prince of 
 Transylvania's court, and the five and 
 fifty pounds sterling. I and our chil- 
 dren, do daily pray for your Prince and 
 his Princess Sophia, and the young 
 Prince Francis. I will, through God's 
 help, as soon as you sent to my uncle 
 Pigot the hundred pound, and that I can 
 order my affairs here, to make myself 
 and our three children ready, which I 
 intend to take with me. Mary must be 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 141 
 
 one that I must bring with me ; she is 
 so serviceable to me, that I can in no 
 cases want her ; and I not knowing of 
 any maid or companion, or man, as yet 
 fit to come with me : Peter and Charles, 
 1 intend, God willing, to bring with me, 
 and John to live at Eaglescliff with our 
 friends, and Isaac with Mr. Busby. I 
 know I shall have all those old debtors 
 about me when they know I am to go, 
 but I must, with the best advice and 
 wisdom I can get, to quiet them, and 
 to part with somewhat, to them that 
 
 stand in the most need. I shall have 
 
 care with the advice of my best friends, 
 about your delight to bring safe with 
 me, and such of my household stuff as is 
 fit. About June or July, I shall, God 
 willing, obey you and your prince's de- 
 sire, in leaving my own native country, 
 kindred, and friends, in coming to you. 
 You must needs think it will be some 
 grief to me at present, but I trust in God 
 and you, which will be able to supply 
 the want of all. Sir William Blaxton, 
 his good lady, Mr. Garnet, and the Da- 
 visons are all well, but sad to part with 
 us from hence. I shall not forget the 
 sadness of my Lady Blaxton's counten- 
 ance, when I told her you had sent for 
 me. God Almighty reward her and Sir 
 William for all their love to us. Mary 
 is now with her. I shall beg counsel of 
 God, and take advice of my best friends, 
 concerning all my affairs here. Two of 
 our sons must be left in England, or they 
 
142 MRS. BASIRE. 
 
 can have no fifth part. Mons. Roussel 
 hath writ to me again, and I have writ. 
 I have sent his letters to you, and have 
 not yet had your answer ; but I have 
 writ to him, to entreat his care of Peter, 
 and that I intend at spring when I come 
 to London, to send for him, and to let 
 him know what condition you are in, 
 and that it is your desire to have him 
 come with me : and though for the pres- 
 ent, you were not able to satisfy his 
 bills, because of our present expenses,* 
 yet as soon as we can, we would with all 
 thankfulness. I have writ to Peter, and 
 now, my dearest, I entreat your prayers 
 for me and our little ones. I intend, 
 God willing, to be constant in my reso- 
 lution to come to you, without I shall 
 have just occasions to see you here, or 
 some great danger in my passage as I 
 know not of. Our children and friends 
 are all well, and desire your blessing. I 
 shall ever remain, 
 
 Yours faithfully in the Lord, 
 
 "J. B." 
 
 After this date there are no letters 
 preserved from Mrs. Basire for several 
 following years, nor does it appear what 
 cause prevented her from going to join 
 her husband in Transylvania. She is 
 mentioned in a letter addressed by him 
 to Sir Edward Hyde two years after- 
 wards. 
 
 He had not retired beyond the reach 
 of troubles when he took up his abode in 
 
MRS. BASIRE. 143 
 
 Transylvania. The country was over- 
 run by the Turks ; and Dr. Basire, who 
 was much trusted by Prince Ragotzki, 
 wrote several letters urging him either 
 to defend his people with courage, or to 
 resign the government. About the time 
 when the troubles in England found their 
 termination, those of Transylvania at- 
 tained their height ; Ragotzki was killed 
 in battle, and Dr. Basire was detained 
 by the entreaties of his widow to attend 
 to the care of his funeral, and continue 
 his instructions to her son. For these 
 objects he remained another year in 
 Transylvania ; and then, longing to re- 
 turn to his own country, he left behind 
 him many of his goods which he could 
 not recover, and hastened to England. 
 From the time of his return he appears 
 to have lived peacefully and prosper- 
 ously ; he was restored to all his prefer- 
 ments, and much employed in the busi- 
 ness of the diocese. He was able to give 
 his sons a good education ; Isaac, the 
 eldest, who took orders, and assisted 
 him in his duties as Archdeacon, married 
 Lady Elizabeth Burton, a relation, as 
 it appears, of Bishop Cosin's family ; 
 Charles also became a clergyman ; Mary, 
 his only daughter, married Jeremy Nel- 
 son, a Prebendary of Carlisle. Of Mrs. 
 Basire no more is known, except that 
 her husband speaks of her as receiving 
 Lady Blaxton as a welcome guest, who 
 had so often been mentioned as a friend 
 in the time of their distress. In other 
 
144 LADY MART WHARTON. 
 
 letters he laments her ill health. She 
 died in July, 1676, and he only survived 
 her till the November following. In his 
 will he declared the same attachment to 
 the English Church which he had shown 
 by word and action through his whole 
 life, saying, that after a serious survey 
 of most Christian Churches, both East- 
 ern and Western, he 'has not found its 
 equal, both for doctrine and discipline. 
 He desired to be buried, not in the Ca- 
 thedral, but in the churchyard, where 
 he was accordingly laid, near an old ser- 
 vant, and left legacies to the choir of 
 Durham Cathedral, to the poor of that 
 town, and of Stanhope, Eaglescliff, and 
 Howick. So much of his history has 
 been told, because that of his wife is in- 
 cluded in it, and that except as his de- 
 voted wife, she has no memorial. 
 
 LADY MARY WHARTON. 
 
 Lady Mary Wharton was the eldest 
 daughter of Henry Carey, Earl of Dover, 
 and her mother was of the ancient family 
 of the Pelhams ; she was born Novem- 
 ber, 1615; and having early lost her 
 mother, she succeeded to the charge of 
 her three sisters, the eldest of whom was 
 seven years younger than herself. Her 
 diligence in fulfilling this charge was 
 proved " by their early proficiency in 
 all virtue, and gracious imitation of so 
 fair a copy." 
 
LADY MARY WHARTON. 145 
 
 She began without delay to perform 
 her baptismal vow, finding those vanities 
 in which her equals often took delight, 
 only a burden and grievance. When 
 she grew to years of discretion, she was 
 beloved by all those of her acquaintance, 
 who had devoted themselves to the fear 
 of God, and who therefore were most 
 dear to her. 
 
 She was in the thirtieth year of her 
 age before she gave way to any proposal 
 of marriage, but at that time she received 
 one from Sir Thomas Wharton, "who 
 being allied to her family and well ac- 
 quainted with it, took so much notice of 
 her virtues and gracious conversation, as 
 gave him occasion to move her in order 
 to marriage. Which motion she em- 
 braced on serious consideration, and on 
 condition of her father's consent, and 
 that of her uncle Sir Thomas Pelham, 
 whom she loved as a second father." 
 Her uncle's consent was first asked, as 
 he was at hand, which he gave cheer- 
 fully ; " her father was then at Oxford 
 with the king, and his whole estate un- 
 der sequestration, nor had she any far- 
 ther expectation from him of any in- 
 crease of that portion which was long 
 before in her own hands and disposal ; 
 yet would she not marry till his assured 
 consent was gained to her full satisfac- 
 faction, which he signified by divers 
 letters from Oxford, wherein he declared 
 that he was assured Sir Thomas would 
 prove honest and kind, and that his 
 
146 LADY MART WHARTON. 
 
 blessing should accompany them in their 
 marriage." 
 
 It appears from Clarendon, that whilst 
 Lord Dover fought at Edgehill on the 
 king's side, his son Lord Rochfort was 
 on the opposite part, and that Philip 
 Lord Wharton, the elder brother of the 
 loyal Sir Thomas, was deeply engaged 
 with the rebels ; but whatever differ- 
 ences Lady Mary may have witnessed 
 in her own and her husband's family, 
 her marriage was one of unvarying hap- 
 piness and union, and of steadfast per- 
 severance in the principles of her early 
 life. 
 
 She was never tainted with novel 
 opinions and fancies, but well acquainted 
 with, and tenacious of the form of sound 
 words contained in the Holy Scripture, 
 and as they are taught in the Church of 
 England, whereof she was a true and 
 dutiful child, and was never moved by 
 any arguments, with which members of 
 the Church of Rome endeavoured to 
 make an impression upon her. 
 
 She studied the Scriptures, and copied 
 largely from them for her own use, in- 
 creasing her knowledge by the writings 
 of the best divines ; and " when she 
 would recreate her mind with any pleas- 
 ant discourse, besides her reading of se- 
 rious history, she took great delight in 
 reading Mr. Herbert's verses, most of 
 which she could repeat without book. 
 Besides her diligent and unwearied read- 
 ng, (which was not only part of her 
 
LADY MART WHARTON, 147 
 
 closet work, but usually her afternoon's 
 employment, when not hindered by com- 
 pany, or not exercised in needlework, 
 for she was never idle,) she constantly 
 observed her designed and stated time 
 for secret prayer ; in which, if she were 
 at any time hindered by entertainment 
 of friends, &c, yet would she redeem 
 time even from her sleep, rather than 
 shorten her accustomed devotions." 
 
 She once heard a sermon by Mr. John 
 Hudson, afterwards bishop of Elphin, 
 upon 1 Sam. i. 27 : " For this child I 
 prayed," &c. ; where he observed, that 
 mercies and blessings obtained by prayer 
 will be sweet, and that we should espe- 
 cially record special mercies. She from 
 that time resolved to keep a record of 
 such special mercies as should be vouch- 
 safed to her, especially such as were 
 given after prayer ; and in those papers 
 where they were found recorded, she 
 makes this prayer : 
 
 " O my God, I desire now to come 
 before Thee, humbled in my soul for my 
 own baseness and filthiness from head 
 to foot : every member of my body be- 
 ing ready and inclined to every sin ; 
 every faculty of my soul being polluted 
 and defiled with that foul and ugly sin, 
 wherein I was conceived and born. And 
 to aggravate this, having received, and 
 still possessing more mercies and gra- 
 cious dispensations from Thee, than (I 
 think) ever any creature had. But it is 
 Thy free grace, who canst as well give 
 e 2 
 
148 LADY MART WHARTON. 
 
 me a thankful heart as a receiving hand : 
 which I beg for His sake, upon whose 
 account only I come before Thee, and 
 have this confidence to approach unto 
 Thee. And here, O Lord, through 
 Thine assistance I desire to recount, as 
 I am able, some of those innumerable 
 mercies that I daily receive." 
 
 Then after an enumeration of many 
 general mercies, she thus proceeds : 
 
 " Good God, give me Thy grace like- 
 wise, that all this Thy goodness may not 
 be in vain upon my poor soul. I bless 
 Thy name for the gracious presence of 
 Thy blessed Spirit at all times, when I 
 set myself before Thee in earnest, to 
 seek Thy face and favour in private ; 
 and especially at a fast I kept, and sacra- 
 ment I received, when I was left all 
 alone at Woborn, when I received much 
 comfort," &c. 
 
 M Then again reckoning up many par- 
 ticular mercies received at the Lord's 
 hand upon her prayers to Him, for her 
 husband and her son ; amongst which 
 she forgets not affectionately to mention 
 the good means of grace and salvation 
 they had lived under, and the contented, 
 peaceable, plentiful, cheerful condition 
 they had enjoyed ever since they cs&ne 
 together. ' But these (saith she) are 
 but one of thousands that I have and do 
 enjoy. O give me to live in some 
 measure answerable to this goodness of 
 Thine,' " &c. 
 
 After this manner she recorded the 
 
LADY MART WHARTON. 149 
 
 many special mercies, deliverances, and 
 blessings, which she, her husband, son 
 and family had received, noting the day 
 and month of the year. And the whole 
 contexture is in the same tenour of prayer 
 and praises, ever desiring of the Lord, 
 that he wotild give her to live the life of 
 faith and thanksgiving, which was her 
 frequent expression. But the particular 
 mercies conferred upon herself and her 
 relations, were not the only subjects of 
 her thankful praises. From her affection 
 to the Church of God, and to her dear 
 native country, she also recorded in her 
 secret devotions public blessings, parti- 
 cularly that of the king's restoration. 
 
 She was so much affected by the 
 thought of God's loving kindness to her, 
 that she could not forbear to speak of it 
 in her private discourses with her friends. 
 She would often* do this in conversing 
 with Mr. Watkinson, who came to the 
 rectory of Edlington in Yorkshire, whilst 
 she was living there. Upon her first 
 acquaintance, when he was but newly 
 settled in the rectory, she said one day 
 whilst alone with him, • Sir, God hath 
 sent you hither to take care of our souls ; 
 therefore I entreat you, that you would 
 not spare faithfully to reprove whatever 
 you shall see amiss in me." He resolved, 
 upon this encouragement, to deal freely 
 with her if occasion offered ; but he 
 observed such an uniform regard to duty 
 and care of her deportment at all times, 
 and towards all persons, that, during the 
 e a 
 
150 LADT MARY WHARTON. 
 
 rest of her life, lie could find nothing in 
 her worthy of reproof. 
 
 In religious conversations, the part 
 which she usually bore, was of asking 
 questions. on such points as she desired 
 to be further informed in, u with some 
 affectionate expressions acquiring self- 
 application, and that seldom (if ever) 
 without contrite tears. Her humble and 
 contrite spirit would ever judge herself 
 unworthy of offered comfort ; yet would 
 earnestly listen to it, desiring \vith Da- 
 vid to hear the voice of joy and gladness, 
 admiring it, and not wilfully rejecting 
 what she was urged to receive ; en- 
 tertaining each argument with joyful 
 tears, which might give her any as- 
 surance or hope of divine favour through 
 Christ, — on whose merits alone she 
 wholly relied, — trampling under foot all 
 conceit of any worth of her own right- 
 eousness." 
 
 She would often, with tears of joy, 
 express "her deep apprehension of God's 
 gracious providence, in their outward 
 prosperity, beyond her hopes ; admiring 
 His blessings, according to His holy 
 promise, heaped upon them she knew 
 not how ; owning his hand, and disown- 
 ing all their own care and endeavour, as 
 of no signification in reference to the 
 greatness of (even outward) mercies re- 
 ceived." 
 
 Mr. Watkinson, in describing her 
 character, goes through all the parts of 
 it in relation to her duty towards God 
 
LADY MART WHARTON. 151 
 
 and towards man, but to follow him 
 through these would only be to repeat 
 such characteristics as have been already 
 described in formerinstances. Sincerity, 
 modesty, simplicity in dress, temperance 
 in food, hospitality, diligence, charity, 
 evenness of temper, willingness to ask 
 pardon, attendance at public worship, 
 attention to Sermons, reverence to the 
 ministers of God, and to His Holy Sac- 
 raments, so that whenever an infant was 
 baptized, she rejoiced in seeing its ad- 
 mission to Christ's Church, and joining 
 in prayer with the congregation ; nor 
 would she lose one opportunity of re- 
 ceiving the Sacrament of the Lord's 
 Supper, when (at the Feast of Easter) 
 it was more frequently administered. 
 
 The last time she ever received this 
 Holy Sacrament was on June 9th, 1672, 
 on which occasion she came out of the 
 house after being long confined to it by 
 want of strength, and from this time she 
 never left the house again. She had once 
 received the communion in private during 
 her confinement, but had a longing de- 
 sire to receive it in the public congrega- 
 tion. That morning she rose two hours 
 earlier than for a long while she had 
 done before ; the day was rugged, and 
 the air cold, so that she probably in- 
 creased her disorder. Her husband hav- 
 ing conducted her to the church, after 
 the sermon she received the sacrament 
 with more than ordinary devotion ; on 
 her return home, she retired to her 
 e 4 
 
152 LADY MART WHARTON. 
 
 chamber, which she never left again, 
 but died ten days after. She had been 
 for many years subject to an asthmatic 
 disorder, which ended in a hectic, and 
 the care of the most expert plvysicians, 
 with the use of cordials, could only pro- 
 long her life, not restore her to health. 
 Apprehending as it should seem, long 
 before, that her strength might totally 
 fail her at the last, she had written, five 
 years before her death, two papers ad- 
 dressed to her husband and her only son. 
 
 Some part of the paper to her husband, 
 
 dated February, 1667. 
 a My dear heart, Sir Thomas Wharton, 
 
 " Our good and gracious God will be 
 thy great support and comfort in all 
 conditions, and will make up all relations, 
 without which none could have given 
 any contentment. We have by His 
 mercies lived more happy days than al- 
 most any ; but changes must come to us, 
 as well as to all others. Therefore let 
 us be thankful for all our good we have 
 enjoyed ; and be willing and ready to 
 give up what is dearest to us, when He 
 calls, who will do nothing to hurt us, 
 being our most loving Father in Christ, 
 who has bought us with His precious 
 blood. This I believe ; Lord, help my 
 unbelief, and give me to live the life of 
 faith and thanksgiving, and prepare for 
 His will, whether life or death. I am 
 very infirm, but heart whole," &c. 
 
 Then, making mention of her only 
 
LADY MART WHARTON. 153 
 
 son : " Of whom I need not desire your 
 taking care, for he is yours as much as 
 mine, and I know you love him," &c. 
 " I would fain have him much in your 
 company, or under your eye. Though 
 I know, his youth and your gravity will 
 not altogether suit ; yet I hope you will 
 allow him grains, and he yield you all 
 the obedience of love, as well as fear. 
 I shall need to say nothing of his mar- 
 riage : for I think we both agree in de- 
 siring he may meet in the first place 
 with piety, virtue, and a good extraction. 
 And if any wealth or beauty attend upon 
 these, let it come ; they are not ill serv- 
 ants, though unfit to be uppermost in 
 our desires or esteem. If God give his 
 blessing, a little will be enough ; if not, 
 enough will be too little to satisfy the 
 covetous desire ; from which God deliver 
 him. I had rather his education might 
 instruct him to use that little he will 
 have well, than to covet more to spend 
 ill." 
 
 The paper to her son was as follows : 
 " My dear Philip, 
 
 " I pray God to bless you ; and He 
 who has raised you from many illnesses 
 and weaknesses, raise your heart and 
 life to some degree answerable to these 
 great mercies, and all others which I am 
 not able to reckon up. I am at this time, 
 I praise God, well, and have no illness 
 on me ; but grown old, and often infirm ; 
 which makes me desire to leave some 
 e 5 
 
154 LADT MART WHARTON. 
 
 thing in charge with you, which yon 
 may read, and remember your old moth- 
 er by. 
 
 " In the first place, love and fear 
 God ; and press and strive every day to 
 increase more and more in the love and 
 service of Him, in whom you live, move, 
 and have your being. There is no wis- 
 dom or policy like it. And the more 
 you converse with God's Word and His 
 people, the more you will find in it, and 
 the better you will like it. For in His 
 service is perfect freedom. Let me 
 conjure you to let no day go without 
 reading the Holy Scriptures, and other 
 good books, as you have leisure ; you 
 will find them excellent company. And 
 do not only read, but consider what you 
 read, to remember it. I should be very 
 glad you would early fit and prepare for 
 the communion of the blessed body and 
 blood of Christ ; not rashly because 
 others do it, but advisedly ; finding the 
 want of it, and the preciousness of it ; 
 which may give you a true hunger and 
 thirst after it, and all other ordinances 
 of God ; upon which, I pray, attend 
 very diligently. Next, honour and love 
 your king, and look upon rebellion as 
 the sin of witchcraft. Lastly, rever- 
 ence, honour, obey and love your father. 
 Obey his commands, observe his instruc- 
 tions, mark his reproofs to prevent the 
 need of them any more. And let them 
 not make you love his company less, for 
 it is his kindness. When he is angry, 
 
LADY MARY WHARTON. 155 
 
 be you very mild, and discreet in your 
 replies ; and do not expostulate with 
 him, but own your fault, which will 
 quickly obtain pardon ; for he loves you 
 dearly, and so would 1 fain have you do 
 him. Be careful of him in age or sick- 
 ness ; love to be in his company. And 
 always choose the best company, for 
 there is no good got in ill, mean com- 
 pany. And avoid, as much as you can, 
 all debauchery, and those that follow it. 
 Let the fear of God first prevail with 
 you ; then the pleasing of your father, 
 and your dead mother's injunctions, when 
 she was alive. And consider well your 
 vow made in baptism, which, though it 
 were promised by others, yet you are 
 bound to perform now, as your Catechism 
 teacheth you. To which end, consider 
 the Church Catechism well, and there 
 you will find your obligation ; which I 
 beseech God to enable you to strive to 
 perform in resisting the world, the flesh, 
 and the devil ; and loving our good God, 
 and our neighbours. 
 
 *' I would give you warning of two 
 sorts of people : the flatterer and the 
 backbiter, and of being either yourself. 
 And when any flatters you to your face, 
 be not pleased with it, but have a more 
 strict guard upon your behaviour and 
 actions, and examine whether it belong 
 to you or no ; if it do, give God the 
 glory ; if not, take that occasion to en- 
 deavour after being what you would be 
 thought to be. And if you hear any 
 e 6 
 
156 MARGARET 
 
 speak ill of others, who do not deserve 
 it, look to yourself, for you are like to 
 have the same when your back is turned. 
 My dear child, be careful of your ways, 
 and let not these things, I say, be slight- 
 ed by you ; for they come from one that 
 loves you, and wisheth your welfare, I 
 assure you ; by name your old mother, 
 " Mary Wharton. 
 " February 26, 1667." 
 
 These papers she had kept in her 
 cabinet ; and the day before she died, 
 she gave them with her own hands to 
 her husband and son, looking cheerfully 
 as she was used to do, though very faint, 
 and since the day when she last went to 
 church, unable to speak but in a whis- 
 per, and that with difficulty. But she 
 was cheerful to the last, smiling even in 
 the face of death, and showing no impa- 
 tience in her faintness and want of 
 breath. " And as she lived in prayer, 
 with it she took leave of the world to go 
 to her Saviour." She died at the age of 
 fifty-seven, and was buried in the church 
 of Edlington, in Yorkshire, where is an 
 inscription to her memory. 
 
 MARGARET LADY MAYNARD. 
 
 Lady Margaret Murray was the 
 
 youngest daughter of James, Earl of 
 Dysart in Scotland. Her father being 
 
XADY MATNARD, 157 
 
 fmnished for his loyalty, she was brought 
 up, says Bishop Ken, " by the excellent 
 lady her mother, to whom she was in all 
 respects so dutiful a child, that she pro- 
 tested her daughter had never in any 
 one instance offended her. By the time 
 the young lady was about eleven or 
 twelve years old, God was pleased to 
 take her good mother to Himself, and 
 from that time to her marriage, this gra- 
 cious woman lived with a discretion so 
 much above her years, with so conspicu- 
 ous a virtue and so constant a wariness, 
 that she always " retained honour," 
 such an "honour" as never had the 
 least mote in it. And to her honour be 
 it spoken, that in an age when the gen- 
 erality of the nation were like children 
 tossed to and fro with every wind of doc- 
 trine, she still continued steadfast in the 
 communion of the Church of England ; 
 and when the priests and service of God 
 were driven into corners, she daily re- 
 sorted, though with great difficulty, to 
 the public prayers, and was remarkably 
 charitable to all the suffering royal- 
 ists, whom she visited and relieved, 
 and fed, and clothed, and condoled, with 
 a zeal like that which the ancient 
 Christians showed to the primitive mar- 
 tyrs. 
 
 " The silenced, and plundered, and 
 persecuted clergy, she thought worthy 
 of double honour ; did vow a certain sum 
 yearly out of her income, which she laid 
 aside onlv to succour them. The con- 
 e 7 
 
158 MARGARET 
 
 gregations where she then usually com- 
 municated, were those of the reverend 
 and pious Dr. Thruscross, and Dr. Mos- 
 son, both now in heaven, and that of the 
 Rev. Mr. Gunning, the now most worthy 
 Bishop of Ely, for whom she ever after 
 had a peculiar veneration. 
 
 " But I must by no means pass by 
 The Right Reverend Father in God, 
 Bishop Duppa, then of Salisbury, after- 
 wards of Winchester, but now with God, 
 who was then put out of all, and an ex- 
 emplary confessor, for the king and the 
 Church ; this holy man, when she re- 
 sided in the country, lived in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and she often visited him, and 
 he seemed to be designed on purpose, 
 by God's most gracious direction, to be 
 her spiritual guide, to confirm her in all 
 her holy resolutions, to satisfy all those 
 scruples, to becalm all those fears, and 
 regulate all those fervours which are in- 
 cident to an early and tender piety ; and 
 God's goodness rendered him so success- 
 ful, that she retained the happy influ- 
 ence of his ghostly advice to her dying 
 day." 
 
 Before the age of twenty, she was 
 married to the Right Hon. William Lord 
 Maynard. who for some attempts in fa- 
 vour of King Charles 1., was impeached 
 by the House of Commons of high trea- 
 son in 1647, but was discharged the fol- 
 lowing year. After the Restoration, he 
 became comptroller of the household to 
 Charles II. and James II. Lady Mar- 
 
L.ADY MAYNARD. 159 
 
 g-aret was his second wife, and lie had 
 two sons by his first marriage. 
 
 " In her letters she often gives the 
 most affectionate thanks imaginable to 
 him, for his invaluable and unparalleled 
 kindness tov/ards her, as she herself 
 terms it, and most fervently prays that 
 the Lord Jesus Christ would be his ex- 
 ceeding great reward and his portion for 
 ever ; but I forbear to offer violence to 
 the modesty of the survivor, and will 
 content myself to say only in general, 
 that when she was a wife, she still prac- 
 tised her accustomed devotion which she 
 practised when a virgin, and her greatest 
 concern was ' for the things of the Lord, 
 how she might please the Lord,' how 
 ' in a marriage honourable, and a bed 
 undefiled,' she might be ' holy both in 
 body and in spirit, and attend upon the 
 Lord without distraction.' And since, 
 as Solomon affirms, i a prudent wife is 
 from the Lord,' she was certainly the 
 immediate gift of God, and sent by pro- 
 pitious heaven for a good angel, as well 
 as for a wife." 
 
 This account of her early life and 
 marriage is extracted from Bishop Ken's 
 Sermon upon her death, the rest of 
 which shall be given in his own words? 
 so far as it concerns the lady who is the 
 subject of it. 
 
 His text was, " A gracious woman re- 
 
 taineth honour." (Prov. xi. 16.) And 
 
 after treating upon this subject generally, 
 
 and more especially as it concerns wo- 
 
 e 8 
 
26Q' MARGARET 
 
 men, he begins thus to speak of Lady 
 Maynard : ,k It is now time to do all the 
 light I am able to the noble lady de- 
 ceased, who was a woman so remarkably 
 4 gracious, and retained an honour ' so 
 entire and unblemished, that all the 
 measures I have hitherto laid down, 
 either of grace or of honour, are but a 
 faint copy drawn after her ; she was all 
 the while before my thoughts, her holy 
 example is the original, and though I will 
 not say, that among the many daughters, 
 who have done virtuously, she absolute- 
 ly excels them all, yet I am sure, she 
 deserves to be esteemed one of the high- 
 est order. 
 
 " But alas ! we have nothing now left 
 except this poor relique of clay, which 
 in a few minutes must be restored to its 
 native earth, and for ever hid from our 
 eyes ; the ' gracious' soul that informed 
 it, is flowed back again to God, from 
 whom it first streamed, and his most 
 blessed will be done, who is compassion- 
 ate and adorable in all his chastisements ; 
 yet as we are flesh and blood, we can- 
 not but feel the stroke which even His 
 fatherly hand has given us. It is the 
 eurse of the wicked to die unlamented v 
 unless it be that they are sometimes 
 carried to the grave with the mercenary 
 tears of those who make mourning a 
 trade ; but the death of the righteous 
 being a loss irrecoverable, and a real 
 calamity to us who survive, must needs 
 fill us with sad resentments, when ws> 
 
LADY MAYNARD. 161 
 
 'consider of how great a blessing we are 
 deprived. 
 
 " Our Saviour himself has counten- 
 anced a moderate grief for our friends, 
 in weeping over His own dead friend 
 Lazarus ; so that if we shed our tears 
 over the grave of this gracious and hon- 
 ourable lady, it is but to be just to her 
 ashes, to ease our own sorrowful spirits, 
 and to testify to the world how dear a 
 sense we have of her worth. For had 
 she nothing but her quality to have re- 
 commended her, we might have per- 
 formed her funeral ceremonies with a 
 bare outward solemnity, but without 
 any more concern than a common ob- 
 ject of mortality gives us ; but she was 
 a ' woman' so truly ' gracious,' that we 
 could not but most affectionately ' hon 
 our' her, and cannot but have a grief, 
 that bears some proportion to our 
 loss. 
 
 " For it is our loss only we can be- 
 wail ; we grieve for ourselves, not for 
 her ; she has a joyful deliverance from 
 temptation and infirmity, from sin and 
 misery, and from all the evil to come ; 
 she is now past all the storms and dan- 
 gers of this troubled life, and is safely 
 arrived at her everlasting haven ; she is 
 now fully possessed of all that she de- 
 sired, which was to be dissolved and to 
 be with Christ, and we cannot lament 
 her being happy. When we weep for 
 common Christians, we are not to be 
 •sorry as men without hope ; but when we 
 e 9 
 
162 MARGARET 
 
 have so many, so interrupted and so un- 
 deniable demonstrations of the sanctity 
 of a person as we have of this ' gracious* 
 woman,' we have no reason at all to 
 grieve on her account, since we have 
 not only a bare hope, but an assurance 
 rather, that she is now in glory. 
 
 11 But why did I call her deash,a loss ? 
 it is rather our gain ; we were all travel- 
 ling the same way, as pilgrims towards 
 our heavenly country ; she has only got 
 the start of us, and is gone before, and 
 is happy first ; and I am persuaded that 
 we still enjoy her prayers for us above? 
 however I am sure that we enjoy her 
 good works here below, which now ap- 
 pear more illustrious, and without that 
 veil her modesty and her humility cast 
 over them ; we still enjoy her example r 
 which being now set in its true lights 
 and at its proper distance, and delivered 
 from that cloud of flesh, which did ob- 
 scure and lessen it, looks the more 
 ■ gracious,' and the more honourable ; 
 and if we follow the track she trod, we 
 shall ere long enjoy her society in 
 heaven. 
 
 " Let us then alter our note, and 
 rather honour than bewail her ; she 
 was 'a gracious woman,' and '■honour* 
 is her due ; her good name, like a pre- 
 cious ointment poured forth, has per- 
 fumed the whole sphere in which she- 
 moved. To paint her fully to the life, 
 I dare not undertake; she had a gra~ 
 eiousness in all her conversation that 
 
LADY MAY5ARD. 163 
 
 cannot be expressed, and should I en- 
 deavour to do it, I must run over all the 
 whole catalogue of evangelical graces, 
 which do also concentre in her charac- 
 ter ; I must tell you how inflamed she 
 was with -heavenly love, how well 
 guided a zeal she had for God's glory, 
 how particular a reverence she paid to 
 all things and to all persons that were 
 dedicated to His service, how God was 
 always in her thoughts, how great a 
 tenderness she had to offend her heaven- 
 ly Father, how great a delight to please 
 Him. But you must be 'content with 
 some rude strokes only, for such par- 
 ticulars would be endless ; all my fear 
 is, that I shall speak too little ; but 
 I am sure • I can hardly speak too 
 much. 
 
 " Say, all you who have been eye- 
 witnesses of her life, did you from her 
 very cradle ever know her any other 
 than a • gracious woman V As to myself, 
 I have had the honour to know her near 
 twenty years, and to be admitted to her 
 most intimate thoughts; and I cannot but 
 think, upon the utmost of my observa- 
 tion, that she always preserved her bap- 
 tismal innocence, that she never com- 
 mitted any one mortal sin, which put her 
 out of the state of grace ; insomuch, that 
 after all the frequent and severe exami- 
 nations she made of her own conscience, 
 her confessions were made up of no 
 other than sins of infirmity, and yet even 
 for them she had as deep an humiliation, 
 
164 MARGARET 
 
 and as penitential a sorrow, as high a 
 sense of the divine forgiveness, and 
 loved so much, as if she had much to be 
 forgiven ; so that after a life of above 
 forty years, nine of which were spent in 
 the court, counting her involuntary fail- 
 ings, which are unavoidable, and for 
 which allowances are made in the cove- 
 nant of grace, she ' kept herself unspot- 
 ted from the world ;' and if it may be af- 
 firmed of any, I dare venture to affirm it 
 of this ' gracious woman,' that by the 
 peculiar favour of heaven, she past from 
 the font unsullied to the grave. Her 
 understanding was admirable, and she 
 daily improved it by reading, in which 
 she employed most of her time, and the 
 books she chose were only' serious and 
 devout, and her memory was faithful to 
 retain what she read ; she took not up 
 her religion on an implicit faith, or from 
 education only, but from a well-studied 
 choice, directed by God's Holy Spirit, 
 whose guidance she daily invoked ; and 
 when once she had made that choice, 
 she was immoveable as a rock, and so 
 well satisfied in the Catholic Faith, pro- 
 fessed in the Church of England, that I 
 make no doubt but that she always lived 
 not only with the strictness of a primi- 
 tive saint, but with the resolution also of 
 a martyr : it was strange to hear how 
 strongly she would argue, how clearly 
 she understood the force of a conse- 
 quence, and how ready at all times she 
 was ' to give a reason of the hope that 
 
LADY MATNARD. 165 
 
 was in her, with meekness and fear ;' 
 her letters which were found in her 
 cabinet, not to be delivered till after her 
 death, and very many others in the hands 
 of her relations, sufficiently show how 
 good and how great she was. In them 
 this humble saint, before she was aware, 
 has herself made an exact impression of 
 her own graciousness ; they are penned 
 in so proper and unaffected a style, and 
 animated throughout with so divine a 
 spirit, with such ardours of devotion and 
 charity, as might have become a Proba, 
 a Monica, or the most eminent of her 
 sex, insomuch that her very absence 
 was the more supportable to her friends, 
 in regard she compensated the want of 
 her presence by writing, and sent them 
 a blessing by every return. 
 
 " I cannot tell what one help she ne- 
 glected to secure her perseverance, and 
 to heighten her graces, ' that she might 
 shine more and more unto the perfect 
 day ;' her oratory was the place where 
 she principally resided, and where she 
 was most at home, and her chief em- 
 ployment was prayer and praise. Out 
 of several authors she for her own use 
 transcribed many excellent forms, the 
 very choice of which does argue a most 
 experienced piety ; she had devotions 
 suited to all the primitive hours of 
 prayer, which she used, as far as her 
 bodily infirmities and necessary avoca- 
 tions would permit, and with David, 
 4 praised God seven times a day,' or sup- 
 
166 MARGARET 
 
 plied the want of those solemn hours by 
 a kind of perpetuity of ejaculations, 
 which she had ready to answer all occa- 
 sions, and to fill up all vacant intervals ; 
 and if she happened to wake in the 
 night, of proper prayers even for mid- 
 night she was never unprovided. Thus 
 did this gracious soul, having been en- 
 kindled by fire from heaven, in her bap- 
 tism, live a continual sacrifice, and kept 
 the fire always burning, always in as- 
 cension, always aspiring towards heaven 
 from whence it fell. Besides her own 
 private prayers, she morning and even- 
 ing offered up to God the public offices ; 
 and when she was not able to go to the 
 house of prayer, she had it read to her 
 in her chamber. 
 
 " To prayers she added fasting till 
 her weakness had made it impossible to 
 her constitution, and yet even then, on 
 days of abstinence, she made amends for 
 the omission, by other supplemental 
 mortifications. Her devotions she en- 
 larged on the Fasts and Festivals of the 
 Church, but especially on the Lord's 
 days, dividing the hours between the 
 Church and her closet. 
 
 " She never failed, on all opportuni- 
 ties, to approach the holy altar, came 
 with a spiritual hunger and thirst to that 
 heavenly feast, and communicated with 
 a lively, with a crucifying, but yet en- 
 dearing remembrance, of her crucified 
 Saviour. 
 
 " The sermons she heard, when she 
 
LADY MAYNARD. 167 
 
 came home she recollected, and wrote 
 down out of her memory abstracts of 
 them all, which are in a great number 
 among her papers, that she might be, 
 • not only a hearer of the Word, but a 
 doer also.' The holy Scriptures she 
 attentively read, and on what she read, 
 she did devoutly meditate, and did by 
 meditation appropriate to herself ; it was 
 her soul's, daily bread, it was ' her de- 
 light and her counsellor,' and like the 
 most blessed Virgin Mother, ' she kept 
 all things she read, and pondered them 
 in her heart.' 
 
 " Who is there can say they ever saw 
 her idle ? No, she had always affairs to 
 transact with Heaven, she was all her 
 life long ' numbering her days, and ap- 
 plying her heart to wisdom;' or to de- 
 scribe her with her own pen, she was 
 » making it her business to fit herself for 
 her change, knowing the moment of it 
 to be uncertain, and having no assurance 
 that her warning would be great.' Oh, 
 happy soul, that was thus wise in a 
 timely consideration of that which of all 
 things in the world is of greatest im- 
 portance to us to be considered, namely, 
 our latter end ! 
 
 " You may easily conclude that a 
 saint, who was always thus conversant 
 with her grave, and had heaven always 
 in her view, must have little or no value 
 for things below, as indeed she had not ; 
 she did not only conquer the world, bu* 
 she triumphed over it, had a noble con- 
 
168 MARGARET 
 
 tempt for secular greatness, lived seve- 
 ral years in the very court, with the ab- 
 straction of a recluse, and was so far 
 from being • solicitous for riches, for 
 herself or her children,' that to use her 
 own words, she looked on them • as dan- 
 gerous things, which did only clog and 
 press down our souls to this earth, and 
 judged a competency to be certainly the 
 best.' 
 
 "All the temporal blessings the Di- 
 vine goodness was pleased to vouchsafe 
 her, she received with an overflowing 
 thankfulness ; yet her affections were so 
 disengaged, her temperance and mode- 
 ration so habitual, that she did rather 
 use than enjoy them, and was always 
 ready to restore them to the same gra- 
 cious hand that gave them ; but no one 
 can express her thoughts so pathetically 
 as her own self: ' Oh,' says that bless- 
 ed saint, ' since God gives us all, let us 
 not be sorrowful though we are to part 
 with all ; the kingdom of heaven is a 
 prize that is worth striving for, though 
 it cost us dear : alas ! what is there in 
 this world, that links our hearts so close 
 to it !' and elsewhere she affirms, « that 
 all blessings are given on this condition, 
 that either they must be taken from us, 
 or we from them ; if then we lose any 
 thing which we esteem a blessing, we 
 are to give God the glory, and to resign 
 it freely.' 
 
 " She was a perfect despiser of all 
 those vanities and divertisements, which 
 
LADY MATNARD. 169 
 
 most of her sex do -usually admire ; her 
 chief, and in a manner sole recreation, 
 was to do good and to oblige ; and if we 
 will be advised by one so wise to salva- 
 tion, ' we are to seek for comfort and joy 
 from God's ordinances, and not to take 
 the usual course of the world, to drive 
 away melancholy by exposing ourselves 
 to temptations ;' and this was really her 
 practice, insomuch that next to the ser- 
 vice of the temple, which she daily fre- 
 quented, there was no entertainment in 
 the whole world so pleasing to her as the 
 discourse of heavenly things, and those 
 she spoke of with such a spiritual relish, 
 that at first hearing you might perceive 
 she was in earnest, that she really 
 1 tasted the Lord was good,' and felt all 
 she spake. 
 
 44 Amidst all her pains and sicknesses, 
 which were sharp and many, who ever 
 saw her show any one symptom of im- 
 patience ? So far was she from it, that 
 she laments, when she reflects ' how 
 apt we are to abuse prosperity,' demands 
 ' where our conformity is to the great 
 Captain of our salvation, if we have no 
 sufferings ;' professes ' that God by suf- 
 fering our conditions to be uneasy, by 
 that gentle way invites us to higher 
 satisfactions than are to be met with 
 here,' and with a prostrate spirit ' ac- 
 knowledges that God was most righteous 
 in all that had befallen her, and that 
 there had been so much mercy mixed 
 with his chastising, that she had been 
 
170 MARGARET 
 
 but too happy.' Thus humble, thus 
 content, thus thankful, was this ' gra- 
 cious woman,' amidst her very afflic- 
 tions. Her soul always rested on God's 
 paternal mercy, on all His exceeding 
 great and precious promises, as on a sure 
 and steadfast anchor, which she knew 
 would secure her in the most tempestu- 
 ous calamities ; to his blessed will she 
 hourly offered up her own, and knew it 
 was as much her duty to suffer His 
 fatherly inflictions as to obey His com- 
 mands. Her charity made her sympa- 
 thize with all in misery ; and besides her 
 private alms, wherein her left hand was 
 not conscious to her right, she was a 
 common patroness to the poor and needy, 
 and a common physician to her sick 
 neighbours, and would often with her 
 own hands dress their most loathsome 
 sores, and sometimes keep them in her 
 family, and would give them both diet 
 and lodging till they were cured, and 
 then clothe them and send them home, 
 to give God thanks for their recovery ; 
 and if they died, her charity accompa- 
 nied them sometimes to the very grave, 
 and she took care even of their burial. 
 She would by no means endure ' that by 
 the care of plentifully providing for her 
 children, the want and necessities of any 
 poor Christian should be overlooked, 
 and desired it might be remembered that 
 alms and the poor's prayers will bring a 
 greater blessing to them than thousands 
 a year.' Look abroad now in the world, 
 
LADY MAYNARD. 171 
 
 and see how rarely you shall meet with 
 a charity like that of this ' gracious 
 woman,' who next to her own flesh and 
 blood was tender to the poor, and 
 thought an alms as much due to them as 
 portions to her children. 
 
 " To corporal alms, as often as she 
 saw occasion, she joined spiritual, and 
 she had a singular talent in dispensing 
 that alms to souls ; she had a masculine 
 reason to persuade, a steady wisdom to 
 advise, a perspicuity both of thought 
 and language to instruct, a mildness that 
 endeared a reproof, and could comfort 
 the afflicted from her own manifold ex- 
 perience of the divine goodness, and with 
 so condoling a tenderness, that she seem- 
 ed to translate their anguish on herself. 
 
 " And happy was it for others that 
 her charity was so comprehensive, for 
 she often met with objects so deplorable 
 that were to be relieved in all these ca- 
 pacities, so that she was fain to become 
 their benefactress, their physician, and 
 their divine, all together ; or if need 
 were, she bid them show themselves 
 to the priest, or else took care to send 
 the priest tp them ; thus was it visibly 
 her constant endeavour to be in all re- 
 spects merciful, as her Father in heaven 
 is merciful. 
 
 " She could bear long, and most easily 
 forgive, and no one ever injured her but 
 she would heap coals of fire on his head 
 to melt him into a charitable temper, and 
 would often repay the injury with a kind- 
 
172 MARGARET 
 
 ness so surprising, that if the injurious 
 person were not wholly obdurate and 
 brutish, must needs affect him. But if 
 any one did her the least good office, 
 none could be more grateful ; she would if 
 possible return it a hundred fold ; if she 
 could not in kind, she would at least do it 
 in her prayers to God, that out of His in- 
 exhaustible goodness He would reward 
 him. 
 
 " Her soul seemed to possess a con- 
 tinual serenity, at peace with herself, at 
 peace with God, and at peace with all the 
 world ; her study was to give all their 
 due, and she was exactly sincere and 
 faithful in all her obligations ; she kept 
 her heart always with all diligence, was 
 watchful against all temptations, and 
 naturally considerate in all her actions ; 
 her disposition was peaceful and inoffen- 
 sive ; she looked always pleased rather 
 than cheerful ; her converse was even 
 and serious, but yet easy and affable ; 
 her interpretations of what others did 
 were always candid and charitable ; you 
 should never see her indecently angry or 
 out of humour, never hear her give an 
 ill character, or pass a hard censure, or 
 speak an idle word, but ' she opened her 
 mouth in wisdom, and in her tongue was 
 the law of kindness.' 
 
 " As a mother she was unspeakably 
 tender and careful of the two children 
 with which God had blest her ; but her 
 zeal for their eternal welfare was pre- 
 dominant, and she made it her dying re- 
 
LADY MAYNARD. 173 
 
 quest that in their education, their piety- 
 should be principally regarded ; or, to 
 speak her own words, ' that the chief 
 care should be to make them pious 
 Christians, which would be the best 
 provision that could be made for them.' 
 
 " In reference to her son, it was her 
 express desire that he should be good, 
 rather than either rich or great ; • that 
 he should be bred in the strictest princi- 
 ples of sobriety, piety and charity, of 
 temperance and innocency of life, that 
 could be ; that he should never be that 
 which these corrupt days call a wit, or a 
 fine gentleman, but an honest and sin- 
 cere Christian she desired he might be.' 
 
 " She professed, * there was nothing 
 hard to be parted with but her lord and 
 her dear children ;' but though her pas- 
 sion for them was as intense as can well 
 be imagined, yet for the sake of her 
 God, whom she loved infinitely better, 
 she was willing to part with them also ; 
 she had long foreseen the parting and 
 prepared for it, and 'humbly begged 
 of her heavenly Father to take them in- 
 to His protection ;' she took care of their 
 souls, even after her death, in the letters 
 she left behind her, and comforted her- 
 self with an entire acquiescence in the 
 good pleasure of her beloved, with hopes 
 that she should still pray for them in 
 heaven, and that she should, ere long, 
 meet them there ; and this consideration 
 of meeting above, put her into a trans- 
 port, which makes her in one of her let- 
 
174 MARGARET 
 
 ters cry out, ' O, how joyful shall we be 
 to meet at Christ's right hand, if we 
 may be admitted into that elect num- 
 ber !' 
 
 " In her family she always united 
 Martha and Mary together, took a due 
 care of all her domestic affairs, and 
 managed them with a wise frugality, 
 with a constant deference to God's mer- 
 ciful providence, and without either 
 covetous fears or restless anxiety ; but 
 withal, ' she sat at the feet of Jesus and 
 heard His word, and of the two was still 
 most intent on the better part.' 
 
 " She studiously endeavoured by pri- 
 vate and particular, and warm applica- 
 tions, to make all that attended her more 
 God's servants than her own, and treat- 
 ed them with a meekness, and indul- 
 gence, and condescension, like one who 
 was always mindful that she herself also 
 had a Master in heaven. 
 
 " Her near relations, and all that were 
 blest with her friendship, had a daily 
 share in her intercessions ; all their con- 
 cerns, all their afflictions were really 
 her own ; her chief kindness was for 
 their souls, and she loved them with a 
 charity like that which the blessed show 
 to one another in heaven, in their reci- 
 procal complaisance at each other's hap- 
 piness and mutual incitements to devo- 
 tion. 
 
 u In respect of the public, which she 
 often laid sadly to her heart, her eyes 
 ran down in secret for all our national 
 
LADY MAYNARD. 175 
 
 provocations, and she had a particular 
 office on fasting days for that purpose ; 
 which shows how importunate she was 
 at the throne of grace to avert God's 
 judgments, and to implore His blessing 
 on the land. 
 
 " And now, after all these great truths 
 which I have said of this excellent lady, 
 one grace I must add, greater than all I 
 have hitherto mentioned, and it is her 
 humility ; she was so little given to talk, 
 and had that art to conceal her goodness, 
 that it did not appear at first sight ; but 
 after some time her virtue would break 
 out, whether she would or no ; she 
 seemed to be wholly ignorant of her own 
 graces, and had as mean an opinion of 
 herself, as if she had had no excellence 
 at all ; like Moses, her face shined and 
 she did not know it ; others she esteem- 
 ed so much better, had that abasing sense 
 of her own infirmities, and that profound 
 awe of the Divine Majesty, that though 
 she was great in God's eyes, she was al- 
 ways little in her own. 
 
 " After the Whitsun-week was over, 
 she removed from Whitehall to Easton- 
 lodge in Essex, not out of any hopes of 
 recovery, but only that she might have 
 some little present relief from the air, or 
 that she might die in a place which she 
 loved, in which God had made her an 
 instrument of so great good to the coun- 
 try, and which was near her grave ; and 
 you may easily imagine, that after a life 
 so holy, the death of this ' gracious wo- 
 
176 MARGARET 
 
 man' must needs be signally happy ; and 
 so it was ; not but that during her pains 
 she had often doubts and fears that af- 
 flicted her, with which in her health she 
 was unmolested, and which did mani- 
 festly arise from her distemper, and did 
 cease as that intermitted ; but the day 
 before she died, God was pleased to 
 vouchsafe her some clearer manifesta- 
 tions of His mercy, which in the tender- 
 ness of His compassion He sent her, as 
 preparations of her last conflict, and as 
 earnests of heaven, whither He intended 
 the day following to translate her. 
 
 " How she behaved herself in her 
 sickness, I cannot better express than by 
 saying that she prayed continually ; and 
 when the prayers of the Church were 
 read by her, or when the hour of her 
 own private prayer came, though she 
 was not able to stand or to help herself, 
 she would yet be placed on her knees ; 
 and when her knees were no longer able 
 to support her, she would be put into the 
 humblest posture she could possibly en- 
 dure, not being satisfied unless she gave 
 God His entire oblation, and " glorified 
 Him in her body as well as in her spirit," 
 which were both God's own by purchase 
 here, and were both to be united in bliss 
 hereafter. 
 
 " On Whitsunday she received her 
 viaticum, the most Holy Body and Blood 
 of her Saviour, and had received it again, 
 had not her death surprised us ; yet in 
 the strength of that immortal food she 
 
LADY maynard. 177 
 
 was enabled to go out her journey, and 
 seemed to have had a new transfusion of 
 grace from it, insomuch that though her 
 limbs were all convulsed, her pains great 
 and without intermission, her strength 
 quite exhausted, and her head disturbed 
 with a perpetual drowsiness, yet above 
 and beyond all seeming possibility, she 
 would use force to herself to keep her- 
 self waking, to offer to God her custom- 
 ary sacrifice to the full, to recollect her 
 thoughts, and to lodge them in heaven, 
 where her heart and her treasure was, 
 as if she had already taken possession of 
 her mansion there, or as if she was 
 teaching her soul to act independently 
 from the body, and practising beforehand 
 the state of separation, into which, hav- 
 ing received absolution, she in a short 
 time happily launched ; for all the bands 
 of union being untied, her soul was set 
 at liberty ; and, on the wings of angels, 
 took a direct and vigorous flight, to its 
 native country, heaven, from whence it 
 first flew down. 
 
 " There then we must leave her, in 
 the bosom of her heavenly Bridegroom, 
 where how radiant her crown is, how 
 ecstatic her joy, how high exalted she 
 is in degrees of glory, is impossible to be 
 conceived, * the good things which God 
 hath prepared for those that love Him,' 
 of all which she is now partaker. 
 
 *' We have nothing then to do but to 
 congratulate ' this gracious woman,' her 
 eternal and unchangeable honour, and as 
 
178 MARGARET LADY MAYNARD. 
 
 she always, and in all things, gave God 
 the glory here, so that His p-riase was 
 Continually in her mouth, for all the 
 multitude of His mercies and of His 
 loving-kindness towards her, and is now 
 praising Him in heaven, let us also offer 
 up a sacrifice of praise for her great ex- 
 ample ; her light has long shined before 
 us, and we have seen her good works. Let 
 us therefore glorify the Father of lights, 
 at whose beams her soul was first lighted. 
 
 " Blessed then for ever be the infinite 
 goodness of God, who was so liberal of 
 His graces to this humble saint, who 
 made her so lively a picture of His own 
 perfections, so gracious and so honour- 
 able, blessed be His mercy for indulging 
 her to us so long, for taking her in His 
 good time to Himself, and for the happi- 
 ness she has now in heaven. To God 
 be the glory of all that honour her gra- 
 ciousness did here acquire, for to Him 
 only is it due ; let therefore His most 
 Holy Name have all the praise. 
 
 " To our thanksgiving let us add our 
 prayers also, that God would vouchsafe 
 us all His Holy Spirit, so to assist and 
 sanctify, and guide us, that every one 
 of our souls may be ' gracious' like hers, 
 that our life may be like hers, our latter 
 end like hers, and our portion in heaven 
 like hers, which God of his infinite mer- 
 cy grant, for the sake of His most be- 
 loved Son, to whom with the Father and 
 the blessed Spirit, be all honour and 
 glory, adoration and obedience, now and 
 jor ever. Amen." 
 
179 
 
 ANNA LADY HALKET. 
 
 Anna Lady Halket was born in 
 London, January 4th, 1622. Her father, 
 Mr. Robert Murray, was descended from 
 the Earl of Tullibardine's family, and a 
 gentleman of such fine accomplishments, 
 that King James I. chose him to be pre- 
 ceptor to his son Prince Charles, for the 
 faithful fulfilment of which office he was 
 afterwards made Provost of Eton Col- 
 lege. 
 
 His wife, Jane Drummond, was a per- 
 son of great prudence and virtue, and by 
 King Charles and his Queen was made 
 sub-governess to the Duke of Gloucester 
 and the Princess Elizabeth, during the 
 time that the Countess of Roxburgh, 
 their governess, went and continued be- 
 yond sea with the Princess Royal. Af- 
 ter the death of Lady Roxburgh, who 
 was her cousin, Mrs. Murray succeeded 
 to her office. 
 
 It is said that most of Mr. Murray's 
 family had been menial servants to the 
 King. He died whilst his children, two 
 sons and two daughters, were very 
 young, and the Prebendaries of Eton 
 College kept his place vacant for a year, 
 though he had not lived long among 
 them, that they might give Mrs. Murray 
 the revenue of it ; and to make her ad- 
 vantage the greater, renewed the leases. 
 
 She spared no expense in educating 
 her sons in the most suitable way to fit 
 
180 ANNA 
 
 them for the service of the royal family. 
 Her daughters, Jane and Anna, had 
 masters for writing, speaking French, 
 playing on the lute and virginals, and 
 dancing ; " and a gentlewoman was kept 
 for teaching them all kinds of needle- 
 work. But their mother's chiefest care 
 was to instruct her children in the prin- 
 ciples and practice of religion, teaching 
 them to begin and end every day with 
 prayer, and reading a portion of Scrip- 
 ture in order, and daily to attend the 
 church as often as there was occasion to 
 meet there, either for prayers or preach- 
 ing, backing all her instructions with her 
 own pious example." 
 
 In a Life of Lady Halket, prefixed to 
 her meditations, a further account is 
 given of her childhood, and of the early 
 thoughtfulness and good sense which led 
 her to profit by gentle reproof, and to 
 correct her childish faults. After biting 
 her sister's finger in a fit of passion, she 
 cried bitterly, and from that time left off 
 the sports by which she had been tempt- 
 ed to such anger. When her mother 
 refused to take her out with her, she 
 would comfort herself by considering, 
 that if she had gone, she might have 
 said or done something for which she 
 would be chidden on her return ; so that 
 if she missed the pleasure which she 
 wished for, she was safe also from the 
 trouble which she feared. She so much 
 accustomed herself to this mode of re- 
 flection, that what she most earnestly 
 
LADY HALKET. 181 
 
 desired became indifferent to her, and 
 she observed that she more readily ob- 
 tained her desire in any thing about 
 which she was thus indifferent, than in 
 what she was most eager upon. She 
 looked back afterwards to these passages 
 of her childhood, saying, " By these I 
 find how early Thou, O Lord, didst 
 prevent me by sowing the seeds of Grace 
 in my heart, though, alas ! since, it hath 
 been overgrown by the corruption of my 
 nature : O my God, weed it up, that the 
 seed Thou hast sown may fructify and 
 increase to bring glory to Thee, and joy 
 to myself, and profit to others." 
 
 As she grew older, she became more 
 and more obedient to her mother and 
 circumspect in her own conduct. " So 
 scrupulous was she of giving any occa- 
 sion to speak of her, that though she 
 loved well to see plays and to walk 
 sometimes in Spring Garden, yet she 
 seldom or never went with any man but 
 her brother, or when her sister or other 
 elder than herself went with her. For 
 hearing one day some gentlemen telling 
 what ladies they had waited on to plays, 
 and how much it had cost them, she re- 
 solved that none should have occasion to 
 say the like of her." 
 
 Though such diversions as these sel- 
 dom encroached upon her more import- 
 ant employments, yet she looked back 
 to them afterwards with so much regret 
 for time vainly, wasted, that she became 
 more frugal of her time for the future. 
 ' f 
 
182 ANNA 
 
 »• Nature had endued her with a 
 comely, well-proportioned, healthful, 
 and sprightly body ; a solid, quick, and 
 penetrating judgment ; an ingenious and 
 lively fancy ; a well-disposed and virtu- 
 ously-inclined temper of soul, ready to 
 receive and entertain good impressions ; 
 a faithful and tenacious memory ; lively 
 and regular affections." These natural 
 gifts she improved to the best advan- 
 tage. 
 
 " She began the second period of her 
 life, her youth, with a personal dedica- 
 tion of herself to God, renewing and 
 confirming her baptismal vows ;" this 
 she frequently repeated, but more sol- 
 emnly every year on her birthday when 
 she reviewed her former life, confessed 
 her sins, returned thanks for the mercies 
 she had received, and made resolutions 
 for living more strictly, asking for help 
 to keep them. She now read the Scrip- 
 tures, which in childhood had been her 
 task, as her own choice and delight. 
 She went regularly through them every 
 year, besides her frequent occasional 
 converse with them. 
 
 " From the example of a devout lady, 
 she began when young to observe stated 
 days of fasting; and as she became bet- 
 ter acquainted with this duty, she found 
 it a great help to prayer and humiliation, 
 and felt by it much inward refreshment. 
 She usually partook of the Lord's Sup- 
 per four times in the year, for which oc- 
 casions she prepared herself with great 
 
LADY HALKET. 183 
 
 care. Her self-examination was fre- 
 quent, and from her earliest years she 
 kept a register of the most remarkable 
 events of her life, with observations on 
 the dispensations of Providence towards 
 herself and others, of the customs and 
 conduct of theworld, and of the tempta- 
 tions and trials incident to every state of 
 life." 
 
 Some examples of these her private 
 meditations may show the foundation 
 which she was laying for the many trials 
 and changes of her after life. 
 
 " How hard is it, if not impossible, 
 for one to live in this world free from 
 either guilt or soandal ; for all one's ac- 
 tions are liable to censure, and few re- 
 ceive their sentence at the bar of justice ; 
 but malice or envy always fill the balance. 
 Some think me better, some worse than 
 I am ; Lord, Thou only knowest the 
 inward truth ; whatever other people's 
 opinions are, let me ever, I beseech 
 Thee, be rather unjustly ill thought of, 
 than well thought of, when I am guilty : 
 for while I have satisfaction in my own 
 conscience, and assurance of Thy favour, 
 nothing shall afflict me. 
 
 " With some, the apprehension of 
 suffering is more prevalent to dissuade 
 them from evil doing, than the fear of 
 displeasing their God : Lord, grant I 
 may never fear any thing like the offend- 
 ing Thee ; since Thy favour is above all 
 things, so let my affections be to Thee. 
 
 " There is nothing harder to overcome 
 f 2 
 
184 ANNA 
 
 than the folly of one's imagination, and 
 few things more sinful : for many make 
 conscience of their words and actions, 
 who make none of their thoughts ; but, 
 Lord, let me be ever careful to suppress 
 my evil thoughts, lest they come to 
 actions, and both bring me to destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 " I have ever avoided the curiosity of 
 knowing what is to happen, as being both 
 unlawful and disquieting ; for if evil, 
 the trouble of it is anticipated in the 
 expectation ; if good, the impatience, 
 perhaps, of enjoying it, would be greater 
 than the pleasure in fruition ; but now I 
 endeavour to make myself happy with 
 the hope of being happy hereafter ; and 
 in nothing do I find so great content, as 
 in being content with all things. 
 
 " Evil accidents prove much worse 
 when they do surprise us ; but I love to 
 use myself to suffering by imagination, 
 and by that means I am fortified against 
 real crosses. 
 
 " Since the greatest crosses are ordi- 
 nary in things that are most pleasing, 
 there can be no real happiness in any 
 thing on earth. 
 
 " Impatience in suffering makes things 
 worse ; nothing doth allay affliction so 
 much as seriously to consider, that it is 
 either for trial or correction ; if we over- 
 come the trial, we may glory in tribula- 
 tion ; if we receive correction, we may 
 esteem ourselves happy, since whom God 
 loves, He corrects. Let me ever be 
 
LADY HALKET. 185 
 
 mindful of this, that all things work to- 
 gether for good to them that love Thee, 
 
 " By accustoming myself to patience, 
 under lesser trials, I will imitate them 
 who, being to run a long race, prepare 
 themselves for it, by running it by de- 
 grees, until they attain breath enough to 
 endure the farthest course : so, by little 
 and little, I will use myself to run that; 
 I may obtain. 
 
 " There is a general evil with which 
 many are infected, which is, to be too 
 apt to believe a report to the prejudice 
 of others, and seeming to distrust it, do 
 yet communicate it to others, and so 
 propagate and foster what malice only 
 begat ; whereas if they desired really to 
 have it false, would they not rather have 
 sought out the original of an ill-begotten 
 story, and either led it home to its right 
 father, or smothered it in the birth? Of 
 any fault, I desire not to be guilty of 
 this ; and to avoid it, I will not be cu- 
 rious to inquire that which does not con- 
 cern me, lest others, finding that humour 
 in me, make advantage of it, and I be- 
 come a customer to them who set off ill 
 stuff; but if accidentally I meet with 
 any story that is uncertain in the truth, 
 and unsafe in the trial, I will conceal it 
 what I can, and content myself with the 
 hope of finding it contradicted; if not, I 
 will mark their error, and avoid a ship- 
 wreck of my fame. 
 
 " I will be faithful where I profess 
 friendship, and not apt to believe ill of 
 f 3 
 
186 ANNA 
 
 any friend, though there be many cir- 
 cumstances to make it appear truth. I 
 will be just to, mine enemies; and when 
 I hear any thing spoken to the prejudice 
 of one I know net, I will first think, if in 
 all my life I never did any thing that 
 might be as much condemned, if it were 
 as severely censured ; I will then judge 
 charitably, and not censoriously. 
 
 " That conversation is best, and that 
 friendship most advantageous, where 
 there is no design but to increase virtue 
 in one another by a mutual agreement 
 and resolution of reproving what is re- 
 provable, and cherishing what is com 
 mend able. 
 
 " I have observed that all faults have 
 two faces : the fore-face pleasing, the 
 hind-face hideous and frightful ; how 
 happy are they who can produce the 
 same arguments to defend and protect 
 their innocency, which guilt furnishes to 
 condemn their vice. 
 
 "■ Next to be innocent, is to be peni- 
 tent : I will avoid what is possible, and 
 repent what is unavoidable, and so hope 
 to be happy." 
 
 Her charitable disposition led her ear- 
 ly to apply herself to the study of phy- 
 sic and preparing medicines, which might 
 be useful in common cases of illness and 
 of accidents, especially for the benefit 
 of the poor. 
 
 " Her first notable cure was on a poor 
 maid, whose hand was in a very danger- 
 ous state, having five tents in it, occa 
 
LADY HALKET. 187 
 
 sioned by a thorn in the lowest joint of 
 her forefinger : her mother dissuaded 
 her from meddling with it, believing the 
 maid would lose her hand ; but she, con- 
 fidently relying on the blessing of God, 
 used her endeavours with such success, 
 that the patient did perfectly recover 
 without any blemish. This cure she re- 
 corded, blessing God for it, as an en- 
 couragement which confirmed her in the 
 resolution to serve poor distressed per- 
 sons in this manner, and as a fresh in- 
 stance of the comfortable truth that God 
 is the hearer of prayer : upon which she 
 resolved in all difficulties to make her 
 requests known to Him, and to depend 
 on His blessing. This was her constant 
 practice in administering to sick persons, 
 that she begged God's direction what to 
 prescribe, and His blessing on it." 
 
 In her study of medicine she omitted 
 no pains which might increase her 
 knowledge, both by conversing with the 
 most eminent physicians, and by furnish- 
 ing herself with the best books, both in 
 English and French, so that her skill 
 was esteemed by physicians themselves, 
 and many persons applied to her from 
 distant parts of the kingdom, and even 
 from Holland, that she might send them 
 medicine which she had prepared. 
 
 At this period of her life she was gen- 
 arally loved and honoured, calumny and 
 malice not having as yet thrown the 
 least blot upon the good character which 
 she had obtained. But her trials began 
 f 4 
 
188 ANNA 
 
 early, almost as soon as she appeared in 
 the world, and she was pursued for the 
 space of fourteen years by a continued 
 series of difficulties and encumbrances, 
 both in England and Scotland,* till at 
 length she arrived at some settled state. 
 The writer of her Life does not profess 
 to give a particular detail of all the inci- 
 dents which happened to her, and which 
 she herself had recorded with pious re- 
 flections upon them, but only to choose 
 some which he considered most remark- 
 able. 
 
 " There were," he says, " several 
 proposals of marriage made, which came 
 to no effect, for she met with levity and 
 inconstancy, or disagreeableness, or else 
 opposition of parents. This last gave 
 her some trouble : for as she was unal- 
 terably resolved never to marry without 
 consent of parents, accounting it the 
 highest act of ingratitude and disobedi- 
 ence in children, so she could not comply 
 to have a husband imposed upon her, 
 judging that union very uncomfortable 
 and unsure, which was not knit by free, 
 unforced, and real affection. 
 
 " This occasioned to her, for some 
 time, the displeasure of her mother, 
 which was very uneasy to her ; but, by 
 her patience and dutiful behaviour, prov- 
 ed at length a mean to increase and con- 
 firm her interest in her mother's affec- 
 
 * Holland, in the Life referred to above, but 
 clearly a mistake for Scotland. 
 
LADY HALKET. 189 
 
 tion, who ever after treated her more as 
 a friend than a child ; and, some time 
 before her death, made over to her a 
 bond of the Earl of Kinnoul's, of 6G200G 
 sterling, which she received with all 
 gratitude, as a new obligation to be more 
 dutiful and diligent in attending upon 
 her, (especially being now infirm and 
 sickly,) which, with great care and con- 
 cern, she performed, ministering to her 
 all the spiritual and bodily help she was 
 able to afford. This made a very com- 
 fortable and endearing impression upon 
 her dying mother, and filled her heart 
 with joy, in finding not only the tender 
 affection of her daughter, but much more 
 the refreshing fruits of her piety and 
 devotion. She died August 28th, 1647, 
 and was buried hear her husband in the 
 Savoy Church. 
 
 " Her afflicted daughter, considering 
 that now she wanted one eye which used 
 to be watchful over her, resolved to 
 walk more circumspectly ; and not trust- 
 ing in her own resolutions, she very de- 
 voutly gave up herself to the conduct of 
 God, in these words : ' Blessed God, as 
 Thou hast hitherto directed me, be Thou 
 still, I humbly pray Thee, a guide to 
 my youth ; and though there be none 
 now on earth to whom I can address my- 
 self with that confidence as I did former- 
 ly to my mother, yet Thou art pleased 
 to give me leave to call Thee Father ; 
 and to Thy Throne of Grace will I direct 
 my supplications. Hear me, I beseech 
 f 5 
 
190 ANNA 
 
 Thee, and grant my requests ; be pleased 
 to give me the will and power to love 
 and fear Thee as I ought ; give me mod- 
 esty and temperance in all my words 
 and actions, that wherever I live, or 
 whatever I do, I may not give occasion 
 to others to judge uncharitably, or bring 
 a reproach upon myself ; that I may, as 
 much as possible, live peaceably with 
 all, without quarrel or dissension ; that 
 if it be Thy pleasure to continue me in 
 this single life, I may so live as that I 
 may be a good example to others ; but if 
 Thou pleasest to have me change my 
 condition, then I beseech Thee direct 
 me to such a husband as may improve 
 my faith, my love and fear of Thee. I 
 desire nothing in this particular but the 
 fulfilling of Thy will, and that I may 
 show myself obedient to Thy law, which 
 Thou hast commanded. Many are the 
 troubles of Thy servants, but Thou de- 
 liverest them out of them all ; therefore 
 on Thee will I put my assurance. O 
 leave me not to myself; but whatsoever 
 ill I see in others give me grace to avoid, 
 and what I see good to imitate ; so shall 
 I walk uprightly all my days, and when 
 death comes, shall sleep securely in the 
 grave,' &c. She had also this pious 
 ejaculation : ' My God, Thou hast from 
 all eternity decreed the event of all 
 things, and nothing can change or resist 
 Thy will ; direct me in that way which 
 is most pleasing unto Thee, and let it 
 ever be so to me. Give me, I beseech 
 
LADY HALKET. 191 
 
 Thee, patience, temperance and discre- 
 tion, which may prove fences to a virtu- 
 ous and godly life.' " 
 
 After her mother's death she was in- 
 vited by her eldest brother and his wife 
 to live with them, where she staid about 
 a year, having an apartment for herself 
 and her maid. From that time she began 
 to date her greatest misfortunes : for 
 though she had many serious reflections 
 on the sufferings which might follow on 
 any want of circumspection, and had 
 therefore formed resolutions to avoid any 
 converse likely to injure her in that re- 
 spect, yet she found the unsteadiness of 
 her own resolutions, and what snares 
 might be in the way where she feared 
 none. 
 
 The loyal principles in which she had 
 been educated, and the obligations of her 
 family to a king who had been so gra- 
 cious a master to them, could not suffer 
 her to be an unconcerned spectator of 
 the misfortunes of the royal family ; but 
 not being able in any other way to show 
 her affection or serve their interests, she 
 did it by frequent fastings and fervent 
 prayers during several years. At length 
 an occasion offered for showing her rea- 
 diness to run the greatest hazard in the 
 king's service. It was this : 
 
 The king had employed a gentleman 
 of truth and loyalty to effect the Duke 
 of York's escape, who with his brother 
 the Duke of Gloucester and the Princess 
 Elizabeth, were kept at St. James's un- 
 f 6 
 
192 ANNA 
 
 der the charge of the Earl and Countess 
 of Northumberland. Anna Murray was 
 employed to prepare clothes for his dis- 
 guise, and to attend him at a place ap- 
 pointed, which she performed with all 
 diligence and cheerfulness. Her good 
 success in this piece of service encour- 
 aged her in other designs for the king 
 which were committed to the manage- 
 ment of the same gentleman who had 
 conveyed the duke to France, and was 
 immediately sent back to London by the 
 prince, with several instructions which 
 might be serviceable to the king. 
 
 " The earnest desire she had to serve 
 his majesty made her omit no opportunity 
 wherein she could be useful ; her zeal 
 kept her from considering the inconveni- 
 ences she exposed herself to ; her inten- 
 tions being just and innocent, she reflect- 
 ed not upon the disadvantageous con- 
 structions which might be put upon the 
 frequent private visits she was obliged 
 to make to that gentleman, who since his 
 return durst not appear in public. And 
 that which contributed to render her the 
 less apprehensive of any ill consequence 
 was, that in all his converse he showed 
 the greatest abhorrence of all kinds of 
 vice ; his discourse was grave and se- 
 rious, tending to make impressions of 
 piety, loyalty and virtue ; and this being 
 so agreeable to her own inclinations, she 
 conceived so good an opinion of him, that 
 she thought herself as secure in his com- 
 pany as in a sanctuary ; but she soon 
 
LADY HALKET. 193 
 
 became deeply sensible, by the calumnies 
 and prejudices which this her converse 
 brought upon her, how far she had 
 swerved from those measures she had 
 formerly resolved on, 
 
 " She found that a good intention is 
 not sufficient to justify what may give 
 scandal : and that innocency is not 
 enough to guard one from the suspicion 
 of guilt, since calumny lays hold on ap- 
 pearances as a sufficient ground of re- 
 proach; she therefore acknowledged that 
 she deservedly suffered the scourge of 
 the tongues, for exposing herself, upon 
 any consideration, to what might make 
 her liable to it ; and for this she con- 
 demned herself as much as her severest 
 enemies could do," 
 
 " During the public disturbances she 
 was instant in her private humiliations, 
 fastings and prayers, making the Psalms 
 the subject of her meditation, as they 
 afforded most suitable directions for reg- 
 ulating her thoughts and prayers, in that 
 juncture of public affairs and of her pri- 
 vate circumstances. Her method was, 
 to fix her thoughts more particularly 
 upon one verse of each psalm, upon 
 which she made some reflections, and 
 concluded with a short prayer. 
 
 The twelfth of September, 1648, hap- 
 pened not only to be the day of the week 
 that she had set apart for her private 
 fasting, but also the day appointed for 
 public humiliation for good success to 
 the treaty with the king at Newport, 
 f 7 
 
194 ANffA 
 
 Her psalm was the seventh, and the verse' 
 she fixed on the ninth : ' O let the wick- 
 edness of the ungodly come to an end, 
 but guide Thou the just.' On which she 
 wrote these thoughts : ' O the hypocrisy 
 of the world, that men should so ensnare 
 themselves with their own folly ! Many 
 cry, Peace, peace, who never desire to 
 see it. They may blind the eyes of men 
 with their outward formality, yet God 
 seeth into the most secret corner of the 
 heart, and judgeth according to the sin- 
 cerity He finds there. Many fast and 
 pray ; but, as the prophet says, it is for 
 strife and envy, and to smite with the fist 
 of wickedness. O, that there were a true 
 prophet to stand in the gap, and Abraham 
 to intercede, and ten righteous in the 
 city ! ' &c. 
 
 She concludes with this prayer : — 
 " Lord, look on us in mercy, and direct 
 us in all our supplications ; O, let the 
 wickedness of the ungodly come to an 
 end ! We are all ungodly, but let not 
 our wickedness reign any longer in us ; 
 neither let them rule any longer over us, 
 who are so ungodly as to hatch nothing 
 but wickedness. O, let their power and 
 their malice come to an end, but guide 
 Thou the just ; guide our king, make him 
 to rule over us once more in peace and 
 safety, T dare not say injustice to revenge 
 the ill he hath met with, but establish 
 him in love among his people, to be a 
 pillar to Thy decaying Church, or else 
 it will be undermined with schisms and 
 
LADY HALKET. 195 
 
 errors. Thou hast made seven years to 
 pass over the king's head, wherein he 
 hath fed with the beasts of the field ; he 
 hath been, as it were, an outcast of the 
 people. Thou hast humbled him, and 
 canst raise him up ; Lord, show Thy 
 power and mercy in his deliverance. O, 
 let the wickedness of the ungodly come 
 to an end ; let them either be converted, 
 or let their evil designs never take effect; 
 but guide Thou the just. Make us also 
 just, that we may be fit for Thee to 
 guide ; or do Thou guide us, and then 
 we shall be just, for none who are guided 
 by Thee can swerve from Thy command- 
 ments ; therefore lead us in Thy paths, 
 for Thy Name's sake." 
 
 " On that fatal day, the thirtieth Jan- 
 uary, when the horrid tragedy was acted, 
 she was so transported with grief and 
 detestation, with horror and dread at so 
 bold avillany, that, as she confesses with 
 regret, she broke forth more in impreca- 
 tions against the actors thereof, than in 
 prayers for him who suffered. Yea, she 
 was so possessed with an apprehension 
 that some visible and terrible judgment 
 would befall the place and people, that 
 she went out of the city to avoid being 
 involved in their destruction. This also 
 she acknowledged to her sin and folly, 
 begging pardon for presuming so far to 
 limit the Holy One, who knows best 
 what time and by what methods to bring 
 the wicked to conviction, and loves not 
 the <death of sinners, but rather their re- 
 f8 
 
196 ANNA 
 
 pentance. But the next day after that 
 horrid crime was acted, when the trans- 
 port of her passion was over, being one 
 of her stated days of humiliation, she 
 does in a more serious and devout man- 
 ner reflect on that strange dispensation 
 of Providence. She sorrowfully bewails 
 her own sins and the sins of the kingdom, 
 as the cause of God's so great displeas- 
 ure. She considers the different senti- 
 ments and constructions which were un- 
 justly and rashly vented by too many on 
 that occasion. Some concluded, with 
 Job's friends, that the king was wicked, 
 a great hypocrite, and that some horrid 
 crimes had pulled down that vengeance 
 on him. Others entertained a better 
 opinion of him, but a worse of God and 
 His providence. That so just and wise 
 a king seemed to be abandoned by God 
 to the fury of his enemies, notwithstand- 
 ing the many thousands who sent up 
 prayers with tears for his deliverance, 
 made them conclude with those in Ma- 
 lachi, ' it is vain to serve God.' She 
 abhors these reasonings : the one as 
 most unjust towards the good king, and 
 the other as most impious against the 
 great and holy God." 
 
 This public calamity was followed by 
 a train of private crosses and misfor- 
 tunes to Anna Murray. Her brother 
 William, who attended the Royal Duke 
 abroad, died soon after his return home, 
 and was buried near his father and mo- 
 ther. He left his sister his executrix, 
 
1.ADY HALKET. 197 
 
 but by the fraud of some persons, to 
 whom, by his direction, she entrusted 
 the management of her affairs, she was 
 not only deprived of any advantage that 
 he intended her to have, but made con- 
 siderably a loser, and involved in many 
 difficulties and incumbrances. 
 
 She was no less unfortunate in her 
 own affairs, being deprived of an interest 
 in Barhamstead to the value of d£412 a 
 year. This was a house and park of 
 the king's, of which she had a lease ; 
 and of the c£2000 which formed the rest 
 of her patrimony, she could not com- 
 mand one farthing. This brought her 
 to straits, having nothing to live on but 
 what she borrowed on her credit, or 
 gave some jewel in pledge for. About 
 this time also, it began to be talked of 
 among the Parliament men that she had 
 assisted in the duke's escape ; and 
 knowing that several women had been 
 secured upon less grounds, she thought 
 fit to retire for a time. A favourable 
 opportunity occurred for this when Lady 
 H. urged her to go home with her to 
 the north. She was most kindly enter- 
 tained by Lady H. and Sir Charles, and 
 respected by the whole family ; she en- 
 joyed the comfort of morning and even- 
 ing prayers, and a sermon twice every 
 Lord's day in the chapel. Here she had 
 a little breathing time from the hurry 
 and noise of public confusions, but it 
 was not of long continuance, for she re- 
 ceived a letter from the Earl of Dun- 
 f 9 
 
98 ANNA 
 
 fermline, who, with other commissioners* 
 from Scotland, had been with the king, 
 inviting him to come home to his ancient 
 kingdom of Scotland. The earl inform- 
 ed her that the king was shortly expect- 
 ed there, and that she would find many 
 friends ready to assist her in recovering 
 that part of her fortnne which was in 
 Scotch hands. 
 
 " This she imparted to Sir Charles 
 and his lady, who very generously fur- 
 nished her with all things necessary for 
 her journey to Edinburgh, where when 
 she arrived, she was visited by several 
 persons of good quality, and from thence 
 went to Dunfermline, being invited by 
 the earl and his lady. There she had 
 the honour to kiss the king's hand, and 
 receive a compliment from him for the 
 service she had done his brother, withal 
 telling her that if ever he came to com- 
 mand what he had right to, there should 
 be nothing in his power he would not do 
 for her. To which, humbly kneeling 
 down, she replied that she had done no- 
 thing but her duty, and had recompense 
 enough if his majesty accepted of it as a 
 service, and allowed her his favour. 
 
 " But in the midst of all the joy and 
 satisfaction which the royal party had 
 in the king's return, the unexpected de- 
 feat of his army at Dunbar gave ground 
 of fear and sad apprehension, and put 
 every one to new thoughts how to dis- 
 pose themselves." 
 
 Anna Murray, having provided her- 
 
LADY HALKET. 199 
 
 self with some money, went with the 
 Countess of Dunfermline to the north, 
 and so upon the 21st Sept., 1650, they 
 left Dunfermline, and came that night to 
 Kinross, where she had the opportunity 
 of serving many poor wounded soldiers. 
 She and her maid dressed more than 
 threescore, she having 'well provided 
 herself with things necessary, in the ex- 
 pectation of being so employed. In the 
 fulfilment of this charitable duty, she 
 did not shrink from the most revolting 
 circumstances belonging to the state of 
 these poor sufferers ; whilst she was 
 (not without reluctancy) cutting off the 
 sleeve of a soldier's doublet, full of pu- 
 trified gore, a gentleman coming in, took 
 the knife from her, cut it off, and flung 
 it into the fire. Besides what she ap- 
 plied, she gave every one of them some 
 balsam for after use. 
 
 At St. Johnstoun, where the king was, 
 Lord Lorn told her that he had heard 
 her name often before the council. 
 When he saw her surprised, he kept her 
 the longer in suspense, and at length 
 told her smiling, that a gentleman, the 
 same who had cut off the man's sleeve, 
 had given the king and council an ac- 
 count of what she did to the poor sol- 
 diers, upon which, orders were given to 
 several towns to take care of the wound- 
 ed. The king also gave her thanks for 
 her charitable offices. 
 
 They came to Fife on the 27th Sept., 
 where she was entertained with much 
 
200 ANNA 
 
 civility and respect by the Countess and 
 her niece, Lady Anna Erskine. Soon 
 after, the king came to Aberdeen, from 
 whence he ordered fifty pieces to be sent 
 to her. The Earl of Dunfermline's 
 concern in her was, that her mother had 
 been educated in his father's family, and 
 she in duty and gratitude had made him 
 welcome to her house at all times when 
 he came to court, and now he continued 
 the kindness of his family to her daugh- 
 ter, who had till now been a stranger to 
 him. She staid at Fife near two years 
 in great content, daily receiving new 
 testimonies of kindness from the noble 
 family, being much delighted with the 
 retiredness of the place and pleasant 
 walks. Here she applied herself to the 
 delightful exercise of meditation ; and 
 how much her soul was elevated by her 
 frequent converse with God, appears 
 from the strain of those contemplations 
 which were penned by her at this place. 
 It was also a pleasant diversion to pre- 
 pare things useful for sick and wounded 
 persons, of whom a great many came to 
 her, and among others, some English 
 soldiers. Whilst she ministered to their 
 bodily distempers, she never failed to 
 advise them to repent of their rebellion 
 and become loyal. 
 
 " When the English army came to 
 Aberdeen, some troopers came to Fife, 
 who were very rude, beating the men, 
 frightening the women, and threatening 
 to pistol them. The countess entreat- 
 
LADY HALKET. 201 
 
 ed Mrs. Murray to go and see if she 
 could pacify them, being their country- 
 woman, and she, committing herself to 
 God, went with her maid ; and so soon 
 as she appeared, they asked her, with 
 reproachful expressions, whether she 
 had come to meet the king, bending 
 their pistols at her. She without fear 
 owned herself to be an Englishwoman, 
 and one who honoured the king, and 
 then by some persuasion she wrought 
 upon them that no more disturbance 
 should be given to the meanest of the 
 family ; a promise which they kept so 
 well, that the countess was by their stay 
 in the house, secured from many inso- 
 lences that were practised in other 
 places. 
 
 " A little after, there came three regi- 
 ments to Fife, commanded by Colonels 
 Lilburne, Fitz, and Overton ; with the 
 last she was engaged in a pleasant com- 
 muning. He had said to her (according 
 to the cant of that time) that God had 
 wonderfully evidenced His power in the 
 great things He had done. She replied, 
 * No doubt but God would evidence His 
 power in the great things He designed 
 to do.' 
 
 " This she spoke with some ardour, 
 which made him reply, 4 You spake 
 much my words, but not I think my 
 sense.' 
 
 " ' When I know your sense,' said 
 she, ' then I will tell you whether it be 
 mine or not.' 
 
202 ANNA 
 
 " ' I mean,' said he, ' what God hath 
 done by His servants in the late times, 
 which could not be brought about with- 
 out the immediate assistance and direc- 
 tion of God. It is in this I would know 
 your mind.' 
 
 " She answered, ' Sir, if you had not 
 begun this discourse, I had said nothing 
 to you ; but since you desire my opinion 
 of the times, I shall freely give it, on 
 condition that you make no use of what 
 I say to the prejudice of the noble family 
 I live in ; for I can hold my tongue, but 
 I cannot speak any thing contrary to 
 what I think. I confess you have had 
 great success in your undertaking, but 
 it is no good rule by that to justify ill 
 actions. You pretend to great zeal in 
 religion, and obedience to God's word, 
 but if you can show me from it a warrant 
 for murdering your lawful king and ban- 
 ishing his children, I will then say all 
 you have done is well, and shall be of 
 your opinion. But since I am sure that 
 cannot be done, I must condemn that 
 horrid act, and whatever has been done 
 in prosecution or vindication of it.' 
 
 "He replied, that they who have 
 wrote on the prophecy of Daniel, say 
 that he foretold the destruction of mon- 
 archy, and that it was a tyrannical gov- 
 ernment, fit to be destroyed. 
 
 " ' But how comes it,' said she, ' that 
 you have taken the power from the Par- 
 liament, and those successive models 
 that have governed since you wanted a 
 king V 
 
LADY HALKET. 203 
 
 " ' Because,' said he, * we found in a 
 little time they began to be as bad as 
 he.' 
 
 " ' And so,' replied she, ' you will 
 ever find reason to change whatever 
 government you try, till you come to 
 beg the king to come home again and 
 govern you ; and this I am as confident 
 of, as that I am speaking to you.' 
 
 " 'If,' said he, ' I thought that would 
 be true, I would repent all that I have 
 done.' 
 
 " ' It will come to that, I can assure 
 you,' said she, ' and the greatest hin- 
 derance will be, that you think your 
 crimes such as it is impossible he should 
 forgive you ; but to encourage you, I 
 can assure you there was never any 
 prince more easy to be entreated, and 
 more inclined to pardon.' 
 
 " ' Well,' says he, ' if it should come 
 to pass, I will say you are a prophet.' 
 
 " So they broke off, and she found af- 
 terwards that he was not unsatisfied with 
 her discourse. 
 
 " Upon several occasions, she express- 
 ed a great confidence of the king's re- 
 storation, and that not by force of arms, 
 but in a peaceable manner, by turning 
 the hearts of his people unanimously to 
 desire it ; applying to this purpose that 
 of the prophet, Zech. iv. 6. 
 
 The Meditations on the twenty-fifth 
 Psalm, published with her Life, are da- 
 ted in this year, and show how deeply 
 she still felt the troubles which had be- 
 
204 ANNA 
 
 fallen her, especially the calumny of 
 which she had been the object, whilst 
 she acknowledges at the same time, in a 
 strain of fervent devotion, that they had 
 been the means of bringing her to a 
 deeper sense of religion, such as was 
 more than able to repay her for all that 
 she had suffered. Some of her thoughts 
 on the first verse of the psalm will serve 
 as a specimen of the humility and trust 
 which are expressed throughout. 
 
 " We may judge of night by day, 
 and of day by night, being opposite ; but 
 the darkest night God hath made light, 
 and never eclipsed the day, but when I 
 have found it prove most for my good. 
 Never did I present my prayers fervent- 
 ly to Him, but I have found Him the 
 God that heareth prayer ; therefore, un- 
 to thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul. 
 
 " And that I can do this, is a mercy 
 that equals, if not transcends any other ; 
 for didst not Thou, my God, draw me, 
 it were impossible I could run after 
 Thee. O how gracious is the Lord, 
 Who gives us grace, and then receives 
 back the effects of it, as if it were our 
 own righteousness, and rewards it. 
 
 " What fruit can the Lord receive of 
 all our service ? Doth our obedience 
 exalt tlis power, or our love His glory ? 
 Do not these, and all other Christian 
 duties, only benefit ourselves ? Yet let 
 not love to any thing but God Himself 
 incline my soul to ascend ; for none are 
 fit, O Lord, to be lifted up to Thee, but 
 
LADY HALKET. 205 
 
 such who love Thee more than their 
 own salvation. What is there so ce- 
 lestial as to communicate with Thee ? 
 Moses's face did shine with being near 
 Thee ; so all who approach unto Thee 
 grow glorious and enlightened with the 
 brightness of that splendour that reflects 
 from Thee. When do I ever speak to 
 the Lord with humble confidence and 
 holy faith, but I have an answer so sat- 
 isfying to my soul, that nothing can ex- 
 press what it is to have it or want it, but 
 heaven or hell. 
 
 " When my soul is lifted up to Thee, 
 O Lord, object of all perfection, nothing 
 can afflict me ; absence of friends, or 
 their unkindness, the calumnies where- 
 with I am reproached, my being as a 
 pilgrim in a strange land, none of these 
 punishments, nor the sins that do occa- 
 sion them, make me repine when I am 
 with Thee, my God, because in Thee I 
 find comfort in all conditions ; for in the 
 worst state, which is in sin, I find con- 
 tent, not with the cause, but the effects ; 
 for by Thy grace the devil is disappoint- 
 ed : for Thou art pleased to open mine 
 eyes to see my sin, and then Thou hum- 
 blest me ; and never dost thou humble me 
 but to exalt me, to triumph over sin and 
 Satan. What soul can be partaker of 
 such mercy, and not be lifted up to 
 Thee? 
 
 *• In my prosperity, I lift my soul to 
 Thee to praise Thee ; and in my ad- 
 versity, whither can I go but unto Thee 
 
206 ANNA 
 
 for help, Who never failest them that 
 seek Thee ? Therefore, they that know 
 Thy Name will put their trust in Thee." 
 
 At the same time that she applied the 
 Psalms to her private use and to the 
 events of her life, she applied them also 
 to the blessings and trials of the Church, 
 and to her own share in these, as a mem- 
 ber of it, as in the following passages. 
 
 1 Redeem Israel, O God, out of all his 
 troubles.' ' Thou hast brought me to 
 the knowledge of the excellencies of 
 Thy Church, and to partake of the con- 
 solations that she gives unto all that are 
 united to her, that I might be sensible of 
 her affliction, and my prayers and tears 
 might be more frequent and fervent for 
 her deliverance. I will give the Lord 
 no rest, till He make Jerusalem a praise 
 in the earth, and His servant the King 
 a steadfast pillar to uphold His truth.' 
 
 " The whole kingdom," continues the 
 writer of the Life, "being brought un- 
 der the power of the usurper, every one 
 began to mind their private affairs ; and 
 the Earl resolving to go to Edinburgh, 
 Mrs. Murray proposed to take the op- 
 portunity of his company ; but her 
 money being near spent, she knew not 
 how to perform the journey. This, 
 with other difficulties she might meet 
 with at Edinburgh, put her in some 
 trouble ; until (as in all her troubles she 
 used to do) she resigned herself to God, 
 and then she was cheered up -with great 
 confidence in His all-sufficient provi- 
 
LADY HALKET. 207 
 
 dence, which had never failed her in her 
 greatest straits. 
 
 '* Next morning the midwife (who had 
 come from Dalkeith to Lady Dunferm- 
 line) came to her chamber with her ri- 
 ding clothes on, to take leave of her, and 
 withal to request her that she would be 
 pleased to do her the favour to take the 
 money she had got at the christening, 
 and bring it south with her, for she fear- 
 ed to be .plundered by the soldiers : she 
 readily complied to do her that courtesy, 
 received the money, and gave her a note 
 for it. The woman went away well 
 pleased, but little knew that she had done 
 a greater favour than she received. 
 
 " She came to Edinburgh, June 30, 
 1652. The Earl of Tweedale and his 
 lady, going to their country house, very 
 obligingly offered her some rooms in their 
 lodging ; and the Countess of Balcarras 
 supplied her with all necessary accom- 
 modations : and to her great satisfac- 
 tion, Sir Robert Murray and his lady 
 were in the same lodging, so that she 
 was very happily situated for company 
 and converse. Sir Robert was her great 
 friend and counsellor in all her affairs, 
 and his lady was devoutly good, without 
 show or affectation, extremely pleasant 
 in discourse, civil to all, and of a con- 
 stant cheerful humour. That lodging 
 was the place of rendezvous to the best 
 and most loyal of the kingdom, where 
 were held frequent meetings of such 
 who were contriving means to assert 
 their loyalty, and free their country." 
 
208 ANNA 
 
 It was at this time that she became 
 first acquainted with Sir James Halket, 
 a cousin of Sir Robert Murray's, but her 
 happiness in the society she here enjoy- 
 ed, was disturbed by the death of Sir 
 Robert's wife in childbirth, which caused 
 great grief to Anna Murray, and de- 
 prived her of both her friends, as Sir 
 Robert then left Edinburgh. He had 
 been assisting her in a law-suit on the 
 subject of that bond of d£2000, given to 
 her by her mother, " which cost her 
 great trouble and expense for many 
 years, though Lord Newbyth and his 
 father would have none of her mone}^, 
 but were ready to assist her with their 
 advice ; her disadvantage was that her 
 antagonist was favoured by the English 
 judges, and she was known to be a great 
 malignant (as they termed all loyalists :) 
 they put her off with delays till he had 
 secured by fraudulent conveyances all 
 the money in good hands, and then gave 
 her a decreet to recover the rest. By 
 this means she was brought to straits ; 
 but had always largeness of heart to do 
 charity beyond her power. Having but 
 one shilling, she gave it to a poor man, 
 as she thought that perhaps some one 
 would lend to her who would not give to 
 him, and was highly pleased to see what 
 joy it raised in him. Next morning the 
 Earl of Roxburgh brought her a kind let- 
 ter from her sister, Sir Henry Newton's 
 lady, with <€20, as a testimony of her 
 affection, which was a very seasonable 
 supply. 
 
LADY HALKET. 209 
 
 " Meantime Sir James Halket dis- 
 covered his affection to her, and made a 
 proposal of marriage, which she receiv- 
 ed with tears in her eyes, looking upon 
 it as an addition to her misfortune to 
 have the affection of so worthy a person, 
 when she was not in a condition to give 
 him the return he deserved. She gave 
 him a particular account of her misfor- 
 tunes, and the great debt which her af- 
 fairs had obliged her to contract ; and 
 ingenuously told him her resolution never 
 to marry any person til] she could put 
 her affairs in such a posture, that if she 
 brought no advantage where she mar- 
 ried, at least she should bring no incum- 
 brance. His urgent solicitations at 
 length prevailed so far on her, that she 
 resolved as soon as possible to put her- 
 self in a capacity to comply with his de- 
 sire ; and for that end, about the begin- 
 ning of September, 1654, she began her 
 journey flbr London, in order to try how 
 her friends would assist her in settling 
 her affairs, and take some c6urse with 
 her creditors. 
 
 u At her arrival she found the state of 
 the government so far altered by many 
 ruptures that had been among them, that 
 the loyal party was more favourably 
 looked upon, so that she was in no dan- 
 ger from the public for what she had 
 done in serving the king. 
 
 " Her relations received her with all 
 testimonies of kindness, especially her 
 sister and her husband, Sir Henry New- 
 
210 ANNA 
 
 ton, with whom for the most part she 
 abode. Her creditors were as civil and 
 lenient as she could have desired, and 
 were as ready to serve her as ever they 
 had been : and having in a good mea- 
 sure cleared her affairs, so that all to 
 whom she was really owing were satis- 
 fied, (which she was enabled to do by 
 the favour of the Countess of Devon- 
 shire, who advanced her d£200, and her 
 kind brother Newton, who gave her 
 <.£300,) she was very much at ease. 
 
 14 Sir James being come to London 
 with a design to accomplish his marriage, 
 and she being fully convinced that no 
 man living could do more than he had 
 done to oblige her, she intended to give 
 him herself, regretting that she could 
 not bring him a fortune as great as his 
 affection. 
 
 " But first she set a day apart, solemn- 
 ly by fast and prayer to beg God's direc- 
 tion in an affair of so great importance, 
 performing this devotion with an entire 
 resignation of herself to God, and a firm 
 resolution to be content, however it 
 pleased Him to dispose of her, begging 
 that He would make her way plain, and 
 her paths righteous, in His sight. 
 
 44 After this, with a more free and 
 cheerful mind, she followed the conduct 
 of Divine Providence, and upon the 
 Lord's day, March 2, 1656, she was 
 married to Sir James, in her brother 
 Newton's closet, by Mr. Gaile, chaplain 
 to the Countess of Devonshire, whom 
 
LADY HAIKET. 211 
 
 they had brought to London from Charle- 
 ton for that end. 
 
 " After a few days they took leave of 
 their friends, and set out for Scotland in 
 the post-coach : they came safe to Pit- 
 firren, and received a kind welcome 
 from all Sir James's friends and neigh- 
 bours. 
 
 " There could be none happier than 
 she was in a wise and affectionate hus- 
 band ; for whom, the longer she knew 
 him, she had the greater reason to bless 
 God : and what he had proposed to him- 
 self he found, and enjoyed greater satis- 
 faction and content in her virtue and 
 piety than all worldly advantages could 
 have afforded. 
 
 " There was an entire union of heart, 
 and harmony of temper, and a tender 
 sympathy, a prudent and affectionate 
 bearing with and correcting each other's 
 infirmities. If he was at any time out 
 of humour, or inclined to melancholy by 
 any cross accident, she had an excellent 
 dexterity to dispel the cloud and cheer 
 him up ; and if warmth of temper 
 (which was her greatest foible) did at 
 any time transport her to do any thing 
 unbecoming her duty towards him, he 
 by meekness of wisdom gently allayed 
 it. 
 
 " That which was the firm bond of 
 their concord and mutual comfort in one 
 another, was sincere religious disposi- 
 tion, which they mutually cherished 
 and increased in one another. 
 
212 ANNA 
 
 " Sir James had been formerly mar- 
 ried to Miss Montgomery, daughter of 
 Skermorly, of whom he kept a kind re- 
 membrance, and spoke frequently with 
 great affection." He had by her two 
 sons, Charles, who succeeded to his in- 
 heritance, and James, afterwards knight- 
 ed by King Charles II. ; and two daugh- 
 ters, Mary, married to Sir William 
 Bruce of Kinross, and Anna, to Sir An- 
 drew Ker of Kavers. They are all 
 spoken of with commendation by Lady 
 Halket's biographer. 
 
 His second lady had also four children, 
 who all died young, except one son, 
 Robert. Before the birth of her first 
 child, she was apprehensive that she 
 might die, and wrote " The Mother's 
 Will to the Unborn Child." Before the 
 birth of all her children she dedicated 
 them to God, and renewed the dedica- 
 tion solemnly upon their birth ; after her 
 recovery her first work was to record 
 the mercy with thankfulness, on which 
 occasion she wrote suitable meditations 
 on Ps. lvi. 12, 13, and xxxiv. 1 — 4. 
 
 When that joyful time of the king's 
 restoration came, Sir James and his two 
 sons went to London to pay their duty ; 
 and after two months he sent for his 
 lady, hoping that she might have some 
 reparation for the losses she had sus- 
 tained; but though she received great 
 expressions of kindness from the king 
 and duke, yet she was not successful in 
 any thing she petitioned for. After 
 
LADY HALKET. 213 
 
 many disappointments, all that she ob- 
 tained was 6£500 from the exchequer, 
 and d£50 from the Duke as a gift to the 
 child that was born in London. This 
 came to little or no account, considering 
 the expense of their journey and long 
 attendance ; but Sir James having done 
 nothing but what he thought it reasona- 
 ble to do, did not repine at the ill suc- 
 cess, nor show the least change in his 
 affection to his lady, whose affairs had 
 engaged him in that expensive and fruit- 
 less labour. 
 
 " All she gained was to learn not to 
 confide in any one on earth, none failing 
 her more than they who made greatest 
 professions of kindness, and none proving 
 more real friends (though to little pur- 
 pose) than they from whom she least ex- 
 pected it ; only her brother Newton 
 never failed her, who at this time ad- 
 vanced her d£100 more. 
 
 Though her married state was the 
 only period of her life in which she en- 
 joyed some worldly comforts, yet these 
 were not without a mixture of troubles, 
 and she was accustomed to observe that 
 she never received any comfort or bless- 
 ing, without some trouble either with it 
 or soon after it, to keep her humble ; 
 nor any cross dispensation without some 
 alleviating circumstances to support her. 
 
 The death of all her children but one, 
 and of a very hopeful youth, the only 
 son of Sir Henry Newton and his wife, 
 were great trials of her patience and 
 
214 ANNA 
 
 submission, and called forth pious and 
 suitable meditations, which she wrote 
 down, as was always her custom. But 
 the saddest and heaviest of her trials fol- 
 lowed, for her husband fell into a lan- 
 guishing distemper from which he did 
 not himself expect to recover, though 
 his physicians apprehended no danger ; 
 having ordered his affairs, secured his 
 wife in her jointure, and to her son 
 Robert a considerable patrimony, he 
 gave himself up wholly to prepare for 
 death, which he met with great compo- 
 sure and Christian courage. His wife 
 attended him throughout his illness, and 
 though of a weak constitution, was ena- 
 bled to endure the greatest fatigue, and 
 gratify his preference for being waited 
 on by her rather than any other. On 
 Sept. 24, 1670, he gently breathed out 
 his spirit, his two eldest sons being at 
 that time in France ; he received an 
 honourable burial, greatly regretted by 
 all who knew him. His upright, reli- 
 gious, and charitable character fitted 
 him in every way to make his wife hap- 
 py ; and her biographer adds, " that he 
 loved much to be at home, and diverted 
 himself in useful contrivances for im- 
 proving his house r gardens, and enclo- 
 sures." 
 
 Her grief for his loss was not a violent 
 passion, which soon passes over, but 
 such a real sense of his worth and her 
 own loss, as preserved in her a fresh and 
 lively remembrance of him during more 
 
LADY HALKET. 215 
 
 than twenty-eight years that she sur- 
 vived him. 
 
 " The first time she went to bed after 
 his death, she awakened out of sleep 
 with these words in her mouth, ' A 
 widow indeed !' which made such im- 
 pression upon her, that she could not be 
 satisfied till she found the place where 
 it was wrote, 1 Tim. v. 3, 5. She 
 fixed her thoughts on the characters 
 there given of a widow indeed, resolving 
 to make them her example : among 
 them, finding one is, to wash the saints' 
 feet ; and seeing neither the climate nor 
 custom of the country required the lite- 
 ral performance of that duty, she re- 
 solved to obey it, upon the matter, by 
 being ready and willing to do the mean- 
 est offices that may be any way helpful 
 to such : and seeing the best, through 
 infirmities and the corruption of the 
 world, are subject to sullyings, she 
 would wipe them off as much as she 
 could. She applied herself to look over 
 the promises which are made to the 
 widow and fatherless, that they might 
 be her support, as also to search what 
 were the peculiar duties required of one 
 in her circumstances, as a Christian, as 
 a widow, and as a mother. As a Chris- 
 tian, she resolved to learn that first les- 
 son, to be meek and lowly in heart, and 
 set always before her for her study and 
 practice the comprehensive rule of 
 Christianity, Phil. iv. 8. As a mother, 
 she pitched on the examples*of Lois and 
 
216 ANNA 
 
 Eunice, 2 Tim. i. 5, and iii. 14, and 
 from Prov. xxii. 6, 9, 15, &c. She 
 found her work chiefly lay in instruc- 
 tion, correction, and example. As a 
 widow, she fixed on that fore-mentioned 
 passage, 1 Tim. v. 2, 5, 10, for her rule, 
 and chose Anna for her example ; of 
 whom it is recorded, Luke ii. 36, 37, 
 that ' she departed not from the temple, 
 but served God with fastings and prayers 
 night and day.' She considered with 
 herself that God was pleased in a pecu- 
 liar manner to show His regard and com- 
 passion to the sad and solitary condition 
 of widows, making it a principal part of 
 pure religion to visit the fatherless and 
 widows in their affliction. She thought, 
 therefore, that in gratitude they ought 
 to be singular in their devotion to God, 
 and in zeal for His honour and glory. 
 She had marked from De Sales, in his 
 instructions to widows, that to love the 
 husband, being alive, is ordinary among 
 women, but to love him so well after his 
 death as to hear of no other, is a love 
 that appertaineth to true widows. That 
 the virtues proper to holy widows are, 
 perfect modesty, renouncing all honours 
 and precedency in meetings, titles, and 
 all sorts of vanities, serving the poor 
 and sick, comforting the afflicted, in- 
 structing young maids in devotion, and 
 making themselves a pattern of all vir- 
 tue to young women ; that cleanliness 
 and plainness should be the ornaments of 
 their actions ; sincerity and mildness 
 
LADY HALKET. 217 
 
 the two ornaments of their eyes ; and 
 Jesus Christ crucified the only love of 
 their hearts. 
 
 She set apart every Saturday (being 
 the day of her husband's death) for a 
 day of retirement, devotion, and absti- 
 nence from wine, strong drink, fish or 
 flesh, (except in cases of necessity,) and 
 to be employed in examining and re- 
 viewing the past week, in acts of chari- 
 ty and mercy, and particularly in pre- 
 paring herself for death. On the 9th of 
 December she solemnly engaged herself 
 in the following resolutions, — that she 
 would spend the rest of her days as a 
 widow indeed, that she would be a care- 
 ful mother to her child, and ever respect- 
 ful to all her husband's relations, and 
 that if she recovered her patrimony she 
 would dedicate a tenth of all to charity, 
 and the other nine parts to necessary 
 uses. She drew up some instructions 
 for her son, which are published in the 
 same volume with her Life. 
 
 On the 10th of December her son-in- 
 law, Sir Charles Halket, came home, 
 and settled all affairs with her in as 
 friendly and generous a manner as if she 
 had been his own mother. She then 
 removed from Pitfirren to Dunfermline, 
 where she had a convenient lodging, and 
 an easy and retired passage through the 
 garden to her husband's burial-place, 
 which she frequently visited, that by 
 continual remembrance of him she might 
 live as became his widow and one de- 
 I 
 
218 ANNA 
 
 voted to God, and prepare the more ear- 
 nestly for the time when she hoped to 
 be laid by him. 
 
 When she came to her lodging, she 
 blessed God for such a comfortable habi- 
 tation, and dedicated herself and her 
 family anew to Him, praying that all 
 the conveniences she enjoyed might re- 
 mind her of His goodness, and be used 
 to His glory. She resolved also to give 
 a good example in her neighbourhood, 
 living at peace with those near her, try- 
 ing to gain their love by her good ser- 
 vices, and to cause as little occasion of 
 evil-speaking as was possible. 
 
 Her first opportunity of receiving the 
 Holy Sacrament was at Tory burn, 
 where she solemnly consecrated her 
 widowhood to the Lord, begging grace 
 to behave like one ' whose husband and 
 maker is the Lord.' 
 
 As she professed, so she endeavoured 
 to practise, wishing to be as holy as the 
 greatest saint, and humble as the great- 
 est sinner, loving God like the angels, 
 and doing good to all the world ; but still 
 mindful that she lived in a state of trial 
 and infirmity, she would be frequent in 
 self-examination that she might daily 
 repent of her sins and give praise for 
 any victory over them ; " and in this 
 she was able to say, to the praise of 
 God's grace, that there was no sin of her 
 life of which she did not as heartily 
 repent as she desired pardon, and as 
 sincerely resolve, and endeavour to 
 
LADY HALKET. 219 
 
 amend her life, as she desired to attain 
 heaven." 
 
 About two years after Sir James's 
 death she went to Edinburgh, partly to 
 visit the Dutchess of Lauderdale, her 
 near kinswoman, and partly in the hope 
 of procuring some advantage for her own 
 child and for her husband's family. As 
 usual she committed herself and her de- 
 signs to God, and resolved to adore His 
 goodness, whether they proved success- 
 ful or not. In this representation of a 
 court, she met with great civilities, fa- 
 vourable looks, and good words, but no- 
 thing more ; and she returned from it 
 blessing the quietness of her own lot, 
 free from the restraints and troubles of a 
 more public life, and interpreting the 
 disappointment of her projects as an in- 
 timation to her to depend on God alone. 
 
 She was now much concerned in the 
 education of her son, and early in 1674 
 she went with him to St. Andrews to 
 enter him at the College, with earnest 
 prayers for his well-doing, and a resolu- 
 tion if he returned safe to make some 
 offering to the College in token of her 
 gratitude to God. This she afterwards 
 fulfilled, by presenting a communion 
 cup to the Church of St. Leonard, which 
 she sent to Dr. Skeene, who had been 
 her son's regent. 
 
 When her son was in his 15th year, 
 she caused him to prepare for the re- 
 newal of his baptismal vow by commu- 
 nicating with her at the Holy Table, 
 g 2 
 
220 ANNA 
 
 and for this purpose she spared no pains 
 in instructing him herself, besides his 
 governor's instructions at the College. 
 
 When peace was concluded in 1675, 
 Sir Charles Halket returned from the 
 war against Holland, in which he had 
 taken part as a naval captain during the 
 last three years. In the time of his ab- 
 sence, he trusted all his affairs to Lady 
 Halket, which she took care of with the 
 greatest fidelity, praying continually for 
 public safety and peace, as well as for 
 the safety of her own relations. Upon 
 his return, he married the only child of 
 Sir Patrick Murray, and in September, 
 a few weeks after his marriage, she 
 went at his desire to Pitfirren to pre- 
 pare for the reception of his bride. 
 " While she was there, the anniversary 
 of her husband's death recurred : the 
 place made the remembrance of that 
 loss more lively ; every room within, 
 and walk without, brought to her mind 
 her former happiness, and made the im- 
 pression of her loss more deep. It was 
 both a joyful and sorrowful reflection to 
 her, that the same day on which, five 
 years ago, Sir James was carried from 
 that house to his burial place, his son 
 brought home his wife, who, with the 
 Lord's blessing, might build it up : and 
 it was great satisfaction to her, that now 
 that family began to flourish, which for 
 some years had been in a manner deso- 
 late without an inhabitant : One genera- 
 tion passeth away, and another comes. 
 
LADY HALKET. 221 
 
 " She had earnestly begged of God, 
 that no company or converse on that oc- 
 casion might divert her from her duty, 
 or make her forget that she was a widow 
 devoted to God ; and that there might 
 be nothing done by intemperance, ex- 
 cess, or any other way to displease God, 
 but that the joy and satisfaction, and all 
 the expressions of mutual kindness and 
 respect which were suitable to that oc- 
 casion, might be managed with a due re- 
 gard to the honour and glory of God, 
 the author of all blessings and comforts. 
 And on her return in October to her own 
 home, and her quiet solitary life, (which 
 was more pleasant to her than the great- 
 est confluence of company, or variety of 
 diversions could be to others,) she bless- 
 ed God for the gracious returns He was 
 pleased to give to the requests of His 
 humble handmaid." 
 
 In the following year she paid two 
 charitable visits, one of them to a ne- 
 phew of her husband, who was dying, 
 and much troubled in conscience at the 
 recollection of a wicked life, doubting 
 whether it was possible that he could be 
 forgiven. She exhorted him not to de- 
 spair, but be the more fervent in seek- 
 ing mercy, advising him at the same 
 time to be particular in confessing those 
 sins which were most heinous, and to 
 warn others against his evil courses ; 
 she left him with the promise that she 
 would remember him in her prayers as 
 he desired. 
 
 g3 
 
222 ANNA 
 
 " About this time she was involved in 
 some troubles, occasioned by persons of 
 whom she expected better things ; upon 
 which she applied herself to the study 
 of extracting good out of all these cross 
 occurrences that had befallen her, or 
 what might afterwards befall her ; and 
 wrote a very devout tract on this sub- 
 ject, which she entitles, ' The Art of 
 Divine Chemistry,' in which she be- 
 came a great proficient. She had been 
 taught by afflictions from her youth, 
 and yet blesses God, who had made her 
 saddest crosses occasions of many com- 
 fortable experiences of His infinite good- 
 ness, compassion and power, in support- 
 ing her under them, and making them 
 in the issue, work together for her 
 good." 
 
 When her son had completed his col- 
 lege course, she was anxious that his 
 time should not be misemployed, and 
 therefore sent him to Edinburgh, and 
 then to Leyden, to study the law ; but 
 finding his mind indisposed to study, 
 and inclined to a military profession, 
 she yielded to his wishes, exhorting him 
 to follow the example of those devout 
 soldiers who had lived in her own and 
 former times. 
 
 She had been for some years in diffi- 
 culties, owing to the great debts in which 
 she was involved before her marriage ; 
 she acknowledged the great mercy 
 which she had met with in not being 
 pursued by creditors, but was not the 
 
LADY HALKET. 223 
 
 less anxious to give to all their due. At 
 the same time she knew not how to 
 withdraw her charities, which were con- 
 tinually increasing her debts, for she 
 often borrowed herself to relieve others. 
 " She never ate her morsel alone ; the 
 fatherless and indigent widow shared 
 with her ; her kitchen and table sustain- 
 ed many poor families ; her still-house 
 was an expensive business, and the 
 apothecaries' accounts were considera- 
 ble every year." She admitted the 
 truth of the representations made to her, 
 that justice ought to go before charity, 
 but she found it hard to withhold help 
 from the needy. In these difficulties, 
 she was assisted by the liberality of 
 several persons of rank who supplied 
 her charities, and by some who sent her 
 considerable presents, in return for the 
 good they had received from her medi- 
 cines. If at any time she felt disquiet- 
 ed, she quickly checked herself, and 
 asked pardon for her distrust after so 
 many great deliverances. " If," said 
 she, " I had full bags to go to at all 
 times, I might be extravagant, and for- 
 get the hand from whence all comes ; 
 but now I am kept in constant depend- 
 ence on God, and every little supply 
 puts me in mind of the bounty of the 
 Giver." 
 
 In 1683, she resolved to break up her 
 
 house and retire to England, where she 
 
 proposed to live upon what hitherto she 
 
 had practised in charity, hoping through 
 
 g 4 
 
224 ANNA 
 
 God's blessing to obtain by means of her 
 rich friends so much as she could sub- 
 sist upon, with something to spare for 
 charity, and in the mean time, to let her 
 jointure go to paying her debts. 
 
 In the multitude of these her thoughts, 
 she applied as usual to God for counsel, 
 and His comforts did delight her soul, 
 for she was as much revived by that 
 passage of the thirty-seventh Psalm, 
 "Trust in the L ord and do good, so shalt 
 thou dwell in the land, and verily thou 
 shalt be fed," as if, by an audible voice, 
 it had been addressed to her from Hea- 
 ven. 
 
 And now help was given her in a way 
 she had never dreamed of, by which she 
 was soon much eased of her encum- 
 brances, "which was, that many per- 
 sons of quality, and others, sent their 
 children to her care, partly from respect 
 to her, and partly for the conveniency of 
 their education at school, so that in a 
 short time her family increased, upon 
 which she reflects on that of Ps. lxviii. 
 6, " God setteth the solitary in families." 
 About eighteen months before, she was 
 thinking of breaking up her family, and 
 now it was increased with the heirs and 
 children of eight several families, all of 
 them motherless, save one, who was 
 fatherless. She knew it was one part of 
 a widow's office to bring up children, 
 and she earnestly prays to be assisted in 
 a motherly care of them, and in using all 
 proper methods to excite in them holy 
 
LADY HALKET. 225 
 
 desires to become the children of God, 
 and to behave as such in all their words 
 and actions. 
 
 " Besides, my Lord Chancellor Perth 
 wrote from London, April, 1685, that he 
 had obtained for her from the king a 
 pension of d£L00 yearly, for which she 
 heartily thanks God, prays for the grant- 
 er and obtainer, begging God's favour 
 and blessing with it, that she may be en- 
 abled to do justly, to love mercy, and to 
 walk humbly with her God." 
 
 Her son had received a commission in 
 the Duke of York's army, and his safety 
 after the defeat of the Duke of Mon- 
 mouth, when many officers of the same 
 regiment were cut off, was a subject of 
 thankfulness to Lady Halket. " Though 
 she loved not," says her biographer, 
 " to judge or censure public acts, yet 
 whenshe apprehended evilconsequences, 
 she prayed God to divert them ;" and 
 public affairs at this time cost her many 
 anxious and painful thoughts. Having 
 cherished for so many years a spirit of 
 loyalty towards Charles I. and his fami- 
 ly, and towards the Church for which he 
 died, she could not but watch with deep 
 concern the events of his sons' reigns. 
 After Monmouth's defeat, all her joy, 
 both on public and private accounts, was 
 much damped, when she heard of so 
 many, and those eminent persons, falling 
 away from their own Church to Roman- 
 ism. She felt distress and consternation 
 when she learned that the Chancellor 
 g5 
 
226 ANJfA 
 
 Perth was one of these, "of whose in- 
 tegrity, piety, and devotion, she thought 
 herself so fully persuaded, and to whom 
 she was in many ways singularly obli- 
 ged. In the midst of all the grief, fears, 
 and tears, which this occasioned to her, 
 she conceived some hope and comfort 
 from that prediction and promise in Dan- 
 iel xi. 35, " And some of them under- 
 standing shall fall, to try them, and to 
 purge and make white, even to the time 
 of the end, because it is for a time ap- 
 pointed." 
 
 M She herself was also attacked in 
 several letters, but she, sanctifying the 
 Lord God in her heart, gave an answer 
 to every one who asked her a reason of 
 the hope that was in her, with meekness 
 and fear ; by which it was soon found 
 the attempt would take no effect, and 
 therefore it was given over, to her great 
 quiet and satisfaction. 
 
 44 In August, 1687, hearing it recom- 
 mended as a great help to a devout life, 
 to meditate some time every day on the 
 sufferings of Jesus, she immediately re- 
 solved on the practice of it ; and for the 
 better performance of it, she divided the 
 history of His Passion into seven pe- 
 riods, with proper meditations for each 
 day of the week." 
 
 The events of 1688 produced fresh 
 disturbance to her peace, which incited 
 her to greater earnestness in prayer, 
 both for the king whom she had once 
 served so faithfully, and for the king- 
 dom in its disquiet. 
 
LADY HALKET. 227 
 
 " When she heard of the king's de- 
 parting to France, she bewailed his mis- 
 fortune with abundance of tears, and 
 earnestly prayed that God would sanc- 
 tify the severity of that dispensation to 
 him, and His wonderful success to the 
 prince, that the one may not sin by de- 
 spair, nor the other by presumption." 
 She prayed for the safety of the Church 
 to which she belonged, and to which she 
 was inviolably attached. 
 
 She was not without private sorrows 
 also : and among the heaviest was the 
 death of her sister, Lady Newton, who 
 had been to her through life the most 
 attached friend, and was endeared to her 
 by her many virtues, her calm and gen- 
 tle temper, her sincere love to God and 
 to His Church, and loyalty in principle 
 and practice. The account of her sis- 
 ter's death came to her through her 
 niece ; and shortly after, Sir Henry 
 Newton wrote a very kind letter, telling 
 her, that for their former friendship, and 
 in memory of his wife, he had resolved 
 to cancel all her debts to him. This 
 letter she received with a great sense of 
 his kindness, and said, " Blessed be he 
 of the Lord, who hath not left off his 
 kindness to the living and to the dead : 
 the Lord give mercy unto him, for he 
 oft refreshed me, and was not ashamed 
 to own me under my greatest trials and 
 misfortunes. The Lord grant he may 
 find mercy in that great day of retribu- 
 tion, for Thou, my Lord, knowest very 
 g6 
 
228 ANNA 
 
 well in how many things he ministered 
 unto me," &c. 
 
 The death of Sir George Mackenzie, 
 a generous iriend, whom she much val- 
 ued, both on her own account, and for 
 his public services, was a great grief to 
 her ; his only son had been near four 
 years under her care, and having now 
 recovered his health, was sent for by 
 his mother, who in testimony of grati- 
 tude sent her a very noble present. 
 
 In December, 1G92, her son returned 
 to her after ten years' absence, much 
 broken in health by ill usage in prison, 
 and by sickness which followed ; his 
 imprisonment is said to have been in 
 London, upon his being taken in his way 
 from Ireland into France, apparently in 
 the service of King James. Whilst he 
 was a prisoner, she used on his behalf 
 the prayer which Solomon made for 
 such a condition, 1 Kings viii. 46, &c. 
 He remained at home only till Septem- 
 ber, 1693, and then went abroad again; 
 and on the 21st of October she heard 
 that, being violently tossed at sea for 
 several days, he fell ill and died two days 
 after he landed at the Brill, where he was 
 honourably buried. She received the 
 news in a truly Christian manner, say- 
 ing, " O, God of all pity, look upon me 
 in mercy, and support me under this sad 
 stroke, that I may not offend Thee, nor 
 sin against my own soul, nor do any thing 
 to be an ill example to others." 
 
 " On this occasion she applied herself 
 
LADY HALKET. 229 
 
 to her cordial in all troubles, meditation 
 and prayer ; and sadly regretted the want 
 of that great allay of all spiritual and 
 temporal troubles, the Holy Eucharist. 
 She greatly delighted in frequent com- 
 munion ; and not having in Scotland that 
 desirable occasion every month as in 
 England, she endeavoured to make up 
 that want by laying hold upon all oppor- 
 tunies which offered yearly, not only in 
 her own parish, but in all the churches 
 round about within three or four miles. 
 She was much taken with a passage of 
 De Sales upon Frequent Communion : 
 and on every occasion when she ap- 
 proached the holy table, she was as se- 
 rious in her preparation, as careful and 
 devout, as if it were the first, or should 
 be the last. She was exact in observing 
 the several operations of God's Spirit on 
 her soul ; under its more liberal commu 
 nications, her heart was so enlarged that 
 no command seemed difficult, no cross 
 too heavy, no part of His yoke grievous ; 
 but when these were withdrawn, she 
 wrestled with deadness of heart; and 
 what she wanted in joy, she had in hu- 
 mility and submission. 
 
 "• Having found so great benefit by 
 frequent communicating, her want of 
 those blessed opportunities, since the 
 deprivation of the ministers, (after the 
 Revolution of 1688,) was more grievous 
 to her, and her desire after that holy or- 
 dinance was increased, by a relation she 
 heard of one dying under great fear, who 
 g 7 
 
230 AHNA 
 
 had never communicated. On this occa- 
 sion she remembered an advice of De 
 Sales : '"When thou canst not have the 
 benefit of communicating really, commu- 
 nicate at least in heart, and spiritually, 
 uniting thyself with an ardent desire to 
 this quickening flesh of thy blessed Sa- 
 viour,' which she resolved to follow ; and 
 accordingly, upon every first Sunday of 
 the month she endeavoured spiritually 
 to join with them who on those days re- 
 membered the love of Jesus, according 
 to His appointment, and offered up them- 
 selves to His service." 
 
 The remainder of her debts lay heavy 
 upon her ; for as she felt her health to 
 be breaking up and death approaching, 
 it made her uneasy to think that any 
 should be losers by her death. She was 
 again advised to leave off her expensive 
 charities, and acquiesced in the reason- 
 ableness of the advice, but found it diffi- 
 cult to follow : " she had retrenched the 
 expense of her family as much as she 
 could ; and her own personal expense for 
 food and clothing, ever since her widow- 
 hood, had very little exceeded what was 
 absolutely necessary : but the true case 
 was, that she could easily command less 
 or more to relieve the poor, or serve the 
 sick, and while she had it she could not 
 deny it, whereas it required greater sums 
 to pay off debts, which she could not 
 command." 
 
 She wrote to a friend about a scheme 
 for her relief; but finding from his an- 
 
LADY HALKET. 231 
 
 swer that it was impracticable, she fixed 
 her trust the more on God. " As a ball, 
 when forcibly struck down, rebounds 
 the higher, so what had beaten down her 
 worldly hopes, raised her faith to a more 
 steadfast persuasion, that God, who is 
 the Comforter of those that are cast 
 down, would still be her God and guide 
 unto death ; saying with the prophet 
 Habakkuk, (iii. 17, 18,) 'Although the 
 fig-tree shall not blossom,' &c. 
 
 " She had some time before fixed her 
 meditations upon Phil. iv. 6, 7, and ex- 
 perimentally found the peace of God, 
 which passeth all understanding, keeping 
 her heart and mind, through Jesus 
 Christ, from being disquieted by out- 
 ward pressures. 
 
 " She was now eased of the charge of 
 those children who had been committed 
 to her care, so that she had nothing to 
 disturb or divert her from a more entire 
 enjoying of God, and herself in Him, 
 but to find out some method for satisfying 
 or securing such of her creditors as were 
 yet unpaid : for this she sought the Lord 
 earnestly, and consulted friends, and 
 made many proposals, being willing to 
 reduce herself to the greatest straits, 
 rather than any person should lose by 
 her." 
 
 At length she found a friend and kins- 
 man who was under obligations to her, 
 and was now able and willing to return 
 them by advancing money to her and 
 receiving a right to half her jointure ; 
 g8 
 
232 ANNA 
 
 she afterwards made oyer to him also a 
 right to her whole household furniture 
 and plate, in exchange for which he took 
 upon him the small remainder of her 
 debts and the expenses of her funeral. 
 Though she would gladly have been able 
 to bequeath something to the family of 
 Pitfirren, and others to whom she was 
 attached by affection and gratitude, yet 
 she submitted to the will of Providence, 
 which had set bounds to her pious and 
 charitable projects, assuring herself that 
 God would accept of her willing mind, 
 and fulfil her good wishes and designs to 
 others more effectually than she could 
 have done. 
 
 It was in the year 1698, that her mind 
 was thus relieved by the prospect of her 
 debts being duly paid ; and during the 
 short time that she survived, she cleared 
 off 6C300, in the wish to have all her 
 creditors satisfied during her life-time. 
 
 "About the middle of March, 1699, 
 when she was in her 78th year, she be- 
 came feverish and much troubled with 
 rheum, which she presently took to be 
 the harbinger of death, and daily found 
 its approaches in the decay of her 
 strength and vital spirits ; but while the 
 outward man perished, the inward man 
 w r as renewed day by day, the God of 
 hope filling her with all joy and peace in 
 believing ; for she knew in whom she 
 believed, and was persuaded that He was 
 able to keep that which she had commit- 
 ted to Him. 
 
LADY HAIKET. 233 
 
 " Some days before her death she felt 
 most sharp and piercing pains, such as 
 (she then thought) were more violent 
 than any she had felt in her whole life, 
 under which she showed admirable pa- 
 tience and submission. After these had 
 vanquished all the remaining forces of 
 nature, and had brought her so low, that 
 oftentimes life was scarce discernible in 
 her, she little more conversed with any 
 but God, and was seldom heard but in 
 her pious ejaculations, which were fre- 
 quently uttered, with all the effort that 
 her weak state was capable of. She 
 was duly attended by the Lady Pitfirren, 
 her daughters, and others : and on Sat- 
 urday, the 22d of April, 1699, between 
 seven and eight o'clock at night, she 
 finished her warfare, and entered into 
 the joy of her Lord. That was the day 
 which for twenty-nine years preceding 
 she had set apart for abstinence, medita- 
 tion and preparation for death, on which 
 she wished (if it might so please God) 
 to die ; and about the same time on which 
 she used on these days to take refresh- 
 ment to her body, her soul was called to 
 the heavenly supper, and began its ever- 
 lasting Sabbath of rest : and her body 
 was on the 24th honourably conveyed, 
 and laid in the same grave in which her 
 husband, Sir James, had been laid. 
 
 " She was a person of great know- 
 ledge, having searched for it as for hid 
 treasure, especially in those inexhausti- 
 ble mines of the divine oracles, where 
 g9 
 
234 ANNA 
 
 the most excellent knowledge is found. 
 She was so well acquainted with these 
 sacred books, by long and frequent con- 
 verse, that she was able readily to urge 
 any point of faith or duty of Christian 
 practice from the most pertinent pas- 
 sages. She had digested all her knowl- 
 edge into a solid principle of true wis- 
 dom, for regulating her own life and edi- 
 fying others. 
 
 " Her piety had nothing of moroseness 
 or affectation, but was free and ingenu- 
 ous, as if natural, full of sweetness and 
 gentleness, which made it amiable and 
 impressive. Her gravity and seriousness 
 had a grace and air so taking and agree- 
 able, as begot both reverence and love. 
 Her frowns and severest reproofs were 
 mixed with tenderness, goodwill, and 
 kindness. Though passion was her great 
 predominant, she had so far overcome it 
 that it seldom did transport her ; if at 
 any time it did, she severely censured 
 herself. "Whenever her passion began 
 to arise, she usually stopped the eruption 
 of it, by reflecting on the parable of the 
 ten thousand talents and hundred pence. 
 She considered also that the best have 
 their failings, and the worst may have 
 some good things in them. Remember- 
 ing that she had once heard a person of 
 eminent quality discoursed of, one gave 
 him the highest character, another deci- 
 phered him in the blackest traits : a 
 third, who was well acquainted with that 
 person so represented, declared that both 
 
LADT HALKET. 235 
 
 accounts were true, for he had very good 
 qualities and very bad ; she resolved 
 therefore to comport the more with hu- 
 man frailty, where she found divine 
 gifts. 
 
 " She much delighted in God's house 
 and the public worship, and was a con- 
 scientious observer of the Lord's day ; 
 and had made this remark, that according 
 to her frame and temper that day, such 
 was her disposition the week following. 
 
 " She was careful that all her family 
 served the Lord ; and when she wanted 
 a chaplain, performed the offices of 
 Morning and Evening worship herself, 
 enjoining them private devotion ; and to 
 such as needed, she composed forms of 
 prayer for their use." 
 
 " She was very moderate in her senti- 
 ments about disputable points, sadly re- 
 gretting the divisions and animosities oc- 
 casioned among Christians by them. 
 Though she heartily approved the doc- 
 trine and worship of the Church of Eng- 
 land, in which she blessed God that she 
 had been initiated and educated, yet she 
 complied with the customs and forms of 
 the country where God had cast her lot, 
 finding the essentials of religion the 
 same in both." Being deprived of all 
 her regular opportunities of communi- 
 cating, by the deprivation of the Scotch 
 Clergy in 1690, she communicated spir- 
 itually on those days on which she had 
 been accustomed to receive the commun- 
 ion in church. 
 
236 ANNA 
 
 " She did heartily pity and pray for 
 them who did separate and cause divis- 
 ions ; and though she was much dis- 
 pleased with their courses, as offensive 
 to God, scandalous to religion, and an 
 inlet of confusion and impiety, yet in all 
 offices of charity and mercy she never 
 made any difference, but, as she had op- 
 portunity, did good unto all, especially 
 to them of the household of faith. 
 
 " She divided the twenty-four hours 
 into three parts, allotting five for devo- 
 tion, ten for necessary refreshment, nine 
 for business ; her hours of devotion were 
 from five to seven in the morning, from 
 one in the afternoon to two, from six to 
 seven, and from nine to ten. 
 
 " This order she carefully observed ; 
 and if at any time she was diverted from 
 observing the hours of devotion, she 
 made it up from the other divisions ; yet 
 she did not confine her devotion to these 
 stated hours ; but all the day long, how- 
 ever employed, she endeavoured to keep 
 up a spiritual frame ; and in the night- 
 time, when she did awake, she was still 
 with God, and had then her meditations, 
 her songs and prayers. 
 
 " She was ever employed, either in 
 doing or reaping good. In the summer 
 season she vied with the bee or ant in 
 gathering herbs, flowers, worms, snails, 
 &c, for the still or limbeck, for the 
 mortar or boiling pan, and was ordinarily 
 then in a dress fitted for her still-house, 
 making preparations of extracted waters, 
 
LADY HALKET. 237 
 
 spirits, ointments, conserves, powders, 
 salves, &c, which she ministered every 
 "Wednesday to a multitude of poor infirm 
 persons, besides what she daily sent 
 abroad to persons of all ranks, who con- 
 sulted her in their maladies. 
 
 " Notwithstanding of her many diffi- 
 culties, she was generally of a cheerful 
 temper, pleasant countenance, and al- 
 ways of an obliging behaviour, which 
 proceeded from a pure heart, a good con- 
 science, and unfeigned faith and charity. 
 
 " She was swift to hear, slow to speak, 
 and when she spoke it was with grace, 
 ever projecting to make others better by 
 her converse, yet managing it in such a 
 humble manner as if she designed rather 
 to receive than to give instruction. 
 
 " She had a singular dexterity to di- 
 vert and shuffle out unprofitable talking, 
 and introduce serious discourse ; which 
 if she could not effect, she would then 
 pleasantly converse with God and her 
 own soul, in the midst of company, with- 
 out discovering herself, or disturbing 
 them. 
 
 " She was equally eminent both for 
 the contemplative, active, or practical 
 part of Christianity ; contemplation had 
 so spiritualized her mind, that almost 
 every object suggested pious thoughts 
 to her. 
 
 "For instance : one day, sitting alone 
 in an arbour at Charleton, in a very 
 stormy day, where the trees round about 
 her cracked with the violence of the 
 
238 ANNA 
 
 roaring wind, though she heard the noise 
 and saw the effects of the storm, yet she 
 enjoyed as serene a calm as if no storm 
 had been in the air ; upon which she re- 
 flected on the great peace and tranquillity 
 of a good conscience, and the safety and 
 security of being under the shadow of 
 the Almighty. Ps. xlvi. 1, and xci. 1. 
 
 " Observing a sheep feeding pleasantly 
 among thorns, at a distance from the 
 flock, she thought it an emblem of her 
 own state ; a stranger in a strange land, 
 far from her nearest relatives, encom- 
 passed with difficulties, yet, through the 
 mercy of God, finding a pleasant pasture, 
 and enjoying a cheerful and undisturbed 
 mind. 
 
 " Observing the long twigs of honey- 
 suckles look withered-like, and yet at 
 the top flourish with leaves and flowers, 
 it raised her thoughts to admire the grace 
 of God, which can put life in a withered 
 stock and make it flourish. 
 
 M Beating sugar, her reflection was, 
 how happy I, if the many strokes I have 
 met with did refine me, subdue every 
 gross part, and make me wholly fit for 
 my Master's use. 
 
 " Observing a pitcher while empty to 
 float, but as it received water to sink, 
 her reflection was, ' The more grace, the 
 more humility.' 
 
 " Looking on a map, which she used 
 as a screen, and observing many cross 
 lines : if (thought she) the geographer 
 had such skill to make all these cross 
 
LADY HALKET. 239 
 
 lines concur to discover the usefulness 
 of his art for the help and direction of 
 navigators, how much more can the 
 great Maker of the universe order all 
 the most cross dispensations to be useful 
 for our direction in our Christian jour- 
 ney, &c. 
 
 " Observing the bees sucking and 
 working upon the flowers which grew at 
 her husband's grave, her thoughts sug- 
 gested to her, in imitation of them, to 
 draw instruction from that monument of 
 mortality. 
 
 " Looking on her own picture drawn 
 at large with her sister, as two shepherd- 
 esses, the posture in which she found 
 herself drawn, with her right elbow lean- 
 ing on a rock, carelessly stretching forth 
 her hand to a stream of water which 
 gushed out of a grot, fell on her hand, 
 and immediately fell off, this represented 
 to her the hieroglyphic of her life : she 
 had found earthly comforts unstable as 
 water, and therefore not much to be re- 
 garded, but to be let come and go without 
 concern ; and her only support, under all 
 the varieties of troubles and disappoint- 
 ments, had been her leaning on that 
 Rock of Ages, whence she had sucked 
 honey and oil to sweeten and soften all 
 crossest dispensations, adding, 4 The 
 Lord liveth, and blessed be my Rock, 
 and exalted be the God of the Rock of 
 my Salvation.' 2 Sam. xxii. 47. 
 
 " When at Edinburgh, she saw repre- 
 sented in a picture the sad fate of De 
 
240 ANNA LADY HALKET. 
 
 Witt, butchered by a mutinous rabble, 
 who but a little before owned him for 
 their tutelar angel ; on which occasion 
 she reflected on the mutability of all 
 things, the inconstancy of a giddy multi- 
 tude, the horrid cruelties to which men's 
 passions lead them ; and withal rever- 
 enced the unsearchable wisdom of God, 
 who sometimes leaves the madness of 
 the people without restraint, and brings 
 the wise and mighty to contempt and 
 misery. 
 
 " There was nothing of moment, either 
 in public or private occurrences, that 
 came to her notice, which she did not 
 make the subject of a serious meditation 
 and reflection. 
 
 " These she was accustomed to write 
 down after her private and family devo- 
 tion, when her mind was in a more ele- 
 vated frame, or else at such hours when 
 her soul, being weary of secular affairs, 
 desired a retreat from the world ; or when 
 the incumbrances thereof were pressing 
 upon her; upon such like occasions she 
 relieved, refreshed and recruited her 
 spirits by holy meditations. 
 
 " This exercise she carried on with so 
 great secrecy, that none knew of it ; and 
 it was but a few years before her death 
 that she made known to some in whom 
 she reposed great confidence, that she 
 had written such books, being moved to 
 make the discovery by hearing of several 
 persons who died suddenly ; yet she im- 
 parted this secret with bashfulness and 
 
LADY JANE CHEYNE 241 
 
 reluctancy, occasioned by her modesty 
 and great humility." 
 
 These books were twenty-one in num- 
 ber, written between 1644, when she was 
 in her 23d year, and 1699, the year in 
 which she died, being then 78. They 
 treat of a variety of subjects, all of a re- 
 ligious nature, many of them on passages 
 or books of the Scriptures. 
 
 In the small volume of her Meditations 
 to which her Life is prefixed, are con- 
 tained, besides those upon the 25th 
 Psalm, " Meditations and Prayers upon 
 the first Week, with Observations on 
 each Day's Creation, and Considerations 
 on the Seven Capital Vices to be op- 
 posed, and their opposite Virtues to be 
 studied and practised." These w r ere 
 written in 1663. 
 
 LADY JANE CHEYNE. 
 
 Lady Jane Cavendish was the eld- 
 est daughter of William, Marquis, after- 
 wards Duke, of Newcastle, and was 
 brought up in her infant years at Wel- 
 beck, the princely abode of her father. 
 Her mother took much pains with her 
 education, and she was the favourite of 
 her grandmother, Lady Ogle. 
 
 " She had a naturally sweet and even 
 disposition, which, being cultivated by 
 good training, produced an even course 
 of goodness. " Her soft yielding com- 
 
242 LADY JANE CHEYNE. 
 
 pliance, backed with magnanimity, was 
 like polished marble, smooth and strong." 
 During her youth, she took much de- 
 light in her father's writings, and left a 
 good stock of her own, for she loved to 
 spend her leisure in writing pious medi- 
 tations, as well as in reading good dis- 
 courses. From her youth to her death- 
 bed, she failed not of prayer thrice a 
 day ; or if her time was interfered with 
 in the morning, or at noon, she failed not 
 to make it up at night. Whilst her 
 father was abroad, she and one of her 
 sisters were in a house of his, garrisoned 
 against the rebels, and after showing her 
 courage and loyalty during the siege, she 
 became a prisoner there upon the house 
 being taken. The treatment received 
 by her and her sister, was not such as 
 might have seemed due to their rank and 
 tender age ; but upon the retaking of 
 the house by the king's forces, she be- 
 came petitioner, to save her jailer's life. 
 Her troubles did not end here ; her 
 mother died soon after. Her father, to 
 the surprise and sorrow of the king and 
 of his friends, suddenly left England 
 after his defeat at Marston Moor. He, 
 as well as her brother, were banished 
 and proscribed, their estates seized, and 
 she was left to struggle with all her dis- 
 stresses. The losses of the Marquis 
 were reckoned, together with the sums 
 that he had spent in the king's service, 
 at more than 66700,000. When the fifths 
 were allowed to those whose estates 
 
LADY JANE CHETNE. 243 
 
 had been seized, Lady Jane became a 
 solicitor for her father and brothers, with 
 much difficulty obtaining pardon for 
 their lives ; and when she found that all 
 she could obtain was not enough for her 
 father's support in his exile, she sold her 
 own plate and jewels given her by her 
 father and grandmother, and sent over 
 the money to him. 
 
 Her filial duty in this instance was af- 
 terwards made known by Margaret Lu- 
 cas, whom the marquis married abroad. 
 This lady having had an excellent edu- 
 cation, devoted her life in a great meas- 
 ure to literary pursuits, combined with 
 which, she imbibed unvarying loyalty 
 from her family. She was maid of hon- 
 our to Queen Henrietta, and attended 
 her when she left England. At Paris, 
 she met with the Marquis of Newcastle, 
 and was married to him in 1645, after 
 which time they lived in such a manner 
 as might best suit his ruined fortunes, 
 residing chiefly at Antwerp. Their lit- 
 erary employments were their chief 
 amusement ; but she was obliged at one 
 time to come over to England, to try to 
 procure some grant for the Marquis out 
 of his estates : in this attempt she was 
 unsuccessful, but received liberal assist- 
 ance from her own and her husband's 
 relations, with which supply she return- 
 ed to him, and they lived abroad till the 
 Restoration. They survived it many 
 years, both living to a great age. Her 
 compositions in prose and verse were 
 
244 LADY JANE CHETNE. 
 
 very numerous ; and after her return to 
 England with her husband, they lived 
 chiefly in retirement on his estates. 
 
 The Marchioness also related of Lady 
 Jane that she would not engage herself 
 in marriage till she had obtained permis- 
 sion from her intended husband to send 
 over to her father a considerable share 
 of her own fortune ; which afterwards, 
 on being restored to his estates, he re- 
 paid. 
 
 In deciding upon her marriage, which 
 her father's absence left to her own 
 choice, though not without his consent 
 sanctioning it, she resolved to enter into 
 no family which had ill-treated her king 
 and her father, however advantageous 
 might be the offer. But she accepted 
 of Mr. Charles Cheyne, or Cheney, a 
 gentleman of ancient family, in whose 
 principles she could trust ; nor did her 
 expectations deceive her, for she lived 
 happily with him at Chelsea for nearly 
 fifteen years, employing herself in char- 
 itable works, working with her needle 
 when not busied with her books and 
 writing, and continuing her religious 
 course, in which she loved to observe 
 the fasts of the Church, as far as the 
 tenderness of her constitution permitted. 
 If she had any quarrel with the place, it 
 was from the multitude of formal visits 
 which she could not avoid receiving from 
 London and returning. 
 
 In her last sickness, her sufferings 
 were not often severe, and she was 
 
LADY JANE CHEYNE. 245 
 
 spared what she naturally dreaded — 
 extreme pain ; for during the fits which 
 came upon her, her senses were lost for 
 the time ; in her intervals of speech, she 
 used it mostly in devotion, and in many 
 gentle, cheerful, and obliging expressions 
 to her husband, children, doctors, and 
 other her mournful attendants. 
 
 In the three weeks' interval, during 
 which there were good hopes of her re- 
 covery, M she used often to say, that 
 though she resigned herself wholly to 
 the wise disposal of a good God, yet she, 
 being in expectation of being called 
 away in her first fits, looked upon her 
 recovery as a gracious kind of disap- 
 pointment (these were her own words) 
 by God Almighty. This she did, (she 
 said,) not out of discontent at her sick- 
 ness, which she thankfully acknowledged 
 was tolerably easy, but (as having con- 
 quered the world, and being now in her 
 passage to a better) out of her intuition 
 of a glorious crown, that, she trusted, 
 awaited her in heaven." 
 
 M Now was the time, when all the 
 powers of her soul, all her virtues and 
 graces, were summoned together with 
 united force, to make up the complement 
 of her devotions ; wherein she professed, 
 to the equal comfort and grief of those 
 that heard her, her confidence in God, 
 her patient submission to Him, her holy 
 resignation, her indifference to life, and 
 her preparedness to die ; of which, 
 amongst many others, there were two 
 
246 LADY JANE CHEYNE. 
 
 remarkable instances : one to a reverend 
 father of our Church, whom she told 
 with great unconcernedness, as he was 
 discoursing piously to her, that she was 
 not afraid to die ; not that she had or 
 feared any trouble or discontent here, 
 but that she might enjoy the blessings 
 of that better world ; the other, to 
 her sad and afflicted husband, whom, as 
 he was at her bedside praying to God 
 that He would restore her again to health, 
 that she might live and glorify Him, 
 when those that went down into the pit 
 could not praise Him, she stopped him 
 in his prayer, and with a comfortable 
 look and strong voice (though a great 
 difficulty of speech had some time before 
 possessed her) said, ' She would glorify 
 God, whether she lived or died ;' and 
 then recommended her children to his 
 care. 
 
 " These dear children of hers, as she 
 often had in health, so she did now more 
 frequently in her sickness, instruct, 
 charging them to apply themselves much 
 to reading ; especially to be diligent in 
 constant prayers to God, to be observant 
 to their dear father, and transferring that 
 obedience they had to herself upon him, 
 to pay him now a double duty, and to 
 be entirely loving to one another : then, 
 and not else, they might assure them- 
 selves of all good things from God and 
 their father ; further enjoining them to 
 be respectful to those that had the charge 
 of them, and ever to give ear to their 
 
LADY JANE CHEYNE. 247 
 
 just and virtuous advices, and carefully 
 to decline the company of vain and im- 
 pertinent persons. 
 
 " As it was her only trouble, in all her 
 sickness, that her indisposition made her 
 incapable of giving that attendance to 
 the offices of religion, praying, medi- 
 tating, reading, as she used to do ; so, in 
 the close, it was the great affliction of all 
 about her, and that which of any thing- 
 she herself showed most sense of, that 
 her speech failed her ; upon the loss of 
 which, she had no other means of ex- 
 pressing those pious ejaculations she in 
 her last sickness incessantly poured 
 forth ; but by sighs, and eyes and hands 
 lifted up to heaven, whither we may 
 presume she is gone, to increase the 
 number of saints, whom the Church this 
 day commemorates, and to enter into the 
 joy of her Saviour." 
 
 Her funeral sermon was preached at 
 Chelsea, on All Saints' Day, 1669, by 
 Dr. Adam Littleton. She died in her 
 forty-eighth year, leaving three children, 
 one of whom died soon after, and was 
 buried with her ; as was also her hus- 
 band, about thirty years afterwards, be- 
 ing then Viscount Newhaven. 
 
 Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, sister 
 to Lady Jane, was married to the Earl 
 of Bridgwater, and is thus mentioned in 
 his epitaph : 
 
 *• Here lies interred, John, Earl of Bridg- 
 water, Viscount Brackley, Sfc. 
 
 Who desired no other memorial of 
 
248 LADY JANE CHEYNE. 
 
 him, but only this : that having (in the 
 nineteenth year of his age) married the 
 Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, daughter to 
 the then Earl, since Marquis, and after 
 that Duke of Newcastle ; he did enjoy 
 (almost twenty-two years) all the happi- 
 ness that a man could receive in the 
 sweet society of the best of wives, till it 
 pleased God, in the forty-fourth year of 
 his age, to change his great felicity into 
 as great misery, by depriving him of his 
 truly loving and entirely beloved wife, 
 who was all his worldly bliss. After 
 which time, humbly submitting to, and 
 waiting on the will and pleasure of the 
 Almighty, he did sorrowfully wear out 
 twenty-three years, four months, and 
 twelve days, and then, on the twenty- 
 sixth day of October, in the year of our 
 Lord 1686, and in the sixty-fourth year 
 of his own age, yielded up his soul into 
 the merciful hand of God, who gave it. 
 ' Though He slay me, yet will I trust in 
 Him.' — Job xiii. 15." 
 
 This Earl of Bridgwater is highly 
 spoken of by Sir Henry Chauncey, who 
 knew him well, and gave a character of 
 him in his History of Hertfordshire, in 
 which he especially mentions his loyalty 
 to the Church of England and to the 
 king. He was buried by his Countess, 
 for whom he made an inscription of 
 greater length than that for himself, 
 enumerating her children by name, and 
 proceeding in the highest strain of pa- 
 negyric, in which mention is made of 
 
CHARLOTTE, ETC. 249 
 
 her religious and charitable virtues, as 
 well as of her other excellencies. 
 
 CHARLOTTE 
 COUNTESS OF DERBY. 
 
 Charlotte de la Tremouille, 
 Countess of Derby, cannot be omitted 
 among the records of such women as 
 showed their loyalty in this time of 
 trouble ; her defence of her husband's 
 house during his absence has rendered 
 her one of the most celebrated among 
 Royalist ladies. Of the other circum- 
 stances of her life, little is known ; she 
 was the third daughter of Claude, Duke 
 de la Tremouille and Prince of Talmont, 
 a peer of France, and his wife, Char- 
 lotte, daughter to William, the first 
 Prince of Orange, and must have been 
 therefore related to the Prince of Orange 
 who became King Charles's son-in-law. 
 She was married when very young to 
 James Stanley, seventh Earl of Derby ; 
 and whilst her after-life proved her de- 
 votion to her husband and to her adopted 
 country, it would seem also to prove that 
 she had become faithfully attached to 
 the English Church. 
 
 At the time of their marriage, her 
 husband was known by the title of Lord 
 Strange, and most of his time was spent 
 in the Isle of Man, where his father ex- 
 
250 CHARLOTTE 
 
 ercised a regal power, or upon the large 
 estates possessed by their family in 
 Lancashire. His father had been dead 
 only a few weeks, when he was called 
 from his peaceful residence at Latham, 
 to join the king at York ; he was among 
 the first and most zealous in supporting 
 the royal cause, though he underwent 
 much disappointment and vexation, from 
 the change of plans, by which the king's 
 standard was set up at Nottingham, 
 rather than, as first intended, at War- 
 rington. In spite, however, of the dis- 
 couragement which this occasioned him, 
 the Earl of Derby made great efforts to 
 secure Lancashire to the king, and fail- 
 ing in these, he proceeded to fortify his 
 house at Latham. Whilst he was thus 
 employed, he received intelligence that 
 the rebels had planned an attack upon 
 the Isle of Man, and immediately sailed 
 thither, leaving the completion of his 
 works at Latham, and its defence, to his 
 countess. 
 
 The enemy, expecting little resist- 
 ance on her part, speedily prepared to 
 attack it. She meantime provided her- 
 self with men, arms, and ammunition, 
 using all possible secrecy and diligence, 
 and finding the men generally raw and 
 undisciplined, she caused them to be 
 trained by several captains, all being 
 placed under the command of Captain 
 Farmer, whom she made the major of 
 her garrison, whilst she kept to herself 
 the supreme control. So secretly had 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 251 
 
 her preparations been made, that the 
 enemy had advanced within two miles 
 of the house before they were aware of 
 any opposition being offered, beyond 
 that of her own servants. " Upon Feb. 
 28th, 1644, there came to her a trumpet 
 from Sir Thomas Fairfax, and with him 
 a person of quality, to desire a confer- 
 ence with her. Whereupon Sir Thomas, 
 and some gentlemen with him, being ad- 
 mitted, the soldiers of that her garrison, 
 were disposed in such a manner as might 
 best advance the appearance and opin- 
 ion both of their numbers and discipline. 
 Their commission being to require the 
 delivery of the house, they offered her 
 an honourable and safe removal, with 
 her children, servants, and goods, (arms 
 and cannon excepted,) to her own house 
 at Knowsley ; also a protection to reside 
 there free from any molestation, and the 
 one half of her lord's estate in England, 
 for the support of herself and children. 
 Whereunto she answered, that she was 
 under a double trust, of faith to her hus- 
 band, and allegiance to her sovereign, 
 and that without their leave, she could 
 not give it up, desiring, therefore, a 
 month's time for her answer. Which 
 being denied, she told them that she 
 hoped they would excuse her if she pre- 
 served her honour and obedience, though 
 in her own ruin. Hereupon Sir Thomas 
 Fairfax departed ; and upon the ques- 
 tion, whether they should proceed by 
 storm or siege, he gave his opinion for 
 
252 CHARLOTTE 
 
 the latter," which advice was promoted 
 by a stratagem of one of the garrison. 
 
 About fourteen days after the first 
 conference, there came another sum- 
 mons, calling upon her to surrender im- 
 mediately; but the trumpet was sent 
 away with this short answer, that the 
 countess had not yet forgotten what she 
 owed to the Church of England, to her 
 prince, and to her lord, and that till she 
 had either lost her honour or her life, 
 she would defend that place. Upon this, 
 Fairfax gave orders to begin the siege 
 in form, but being sent upon another 
 service, he left the management of it to 
 Colonel Peter Egerton and Major Mor- 
 gan. 
 
 "As to the situation of Latham 
 House, it stands upon a flat boggy 
 ground, encompassed with a wall of two 
 yards thick, without which is a moat of 
 eight yards wide, and two yards deep, 
 upon the bank of which moat, betwixt 
 the wall and the graff, was a strong pali- 
 sade throughout. Upon the walls were 
 also nine towers flanking them, and on 
 each tower six pieces of ordnance, 
 which played three one way, and three 
 another. Besides these, there was in 
 the middle of the house a high tower, 
 called the Eagle Tower. The gate- 
 house also, being a strong and lofty 
 building, stood at the entrance of the 
 first court. Upon the top of all which 
 towers stood the choicest marksmen, 
 (keepers, fowlers, and the like,) who 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 253 
 
 shrewdly galled the enemy, and cut off 
 divers of their officers in the trenches." 
 In order to disturb the approaches of 
 the enemy while they were working on 
 their line of circumvallation, the coun- 
 tess ordered a sally of two hundred men, 
 commanded by Major Farmer, who, on 
 March 12th, drove them from their 
 trenches to their rear guard, killed about 
 sixty men, and took some prisoners, with 
 the loss only of two of his men. Upon 
 this the assailants doubled their guards, 
 and drew their line at a greater dis- 
 tance ; they afterwards ran a deep trench 
 near the moat, where they raised a strong 
 battery, and planted on it a mortar- 
 piece, which cast stones and grenadoes 
 of sixteen inches diameter. The first 
 of these grenadoes fell close to the table 
 where the countess, her children, and 
 the officers, were all at dinner ; it shiver- 
 ed the room, but hurt no one. They 
 resolved to make another sally in order 
 to take that mortar, and, after some re- 
 sistance, they succeeded in seizing all 
 the works of the besiegers, nailing and 
 overturning all their cannon, rolling 
 them into the moat, and carrying the 
 mortar into the house. Continuing mas- 
 ters of the enemy's works and trenches, 
 all that day they endeavoured to fill 
 them up and destroy them as much as 
 might be, " at which time the countess 
 went not only out of the gates, but some- 
 times very near the trenches. Whose 
 piety was such that she constantly prac- 
 h 
 
254 CHARLOTTE 
 
 tised to begin all those actions with pub- 
 lic prayers, and to close them with 
 thanksgivings. This successful assault 
 happened on April 26th, being the very 
 day appointed by the enemy for a fierce 
 assault, with orders to put every one to 
 the sword. 
 
 " It took the enemy at least five or 
 six days' time to repair their works, and 
 in that space they were twice dislodged 
 and scattered by other vigorous sallies. 
 These disasters gave Colonel Rigby (a 
 malicious enemy to the Earl of Derby) 
 a colour of laying the fault on Colonel 
 Peter Egerton, whereby he got a com- 
 mission for himself to command in chief, 
 after which he would not permit so much 
 as a midwife to pass into the house, unto 
 a gentlewoman there in travail, and in a 
 fortnight's space carried on his work 
 without much trouble, for want of pow- 
 der in the house. But that defect be- 
 ing supplied by another sally, the coun- 
 tess proposed a fresh assault upon all 
 their trenches, which being accordingly 
 agreed on, Rawsthorne had command of 
 the forlorn, Farmer of the battle, and 
 Chisenhale of the reserve, who behaving 
 themselves with their wonted bravery, 
 beat the enemy from their works, clear- 
 ed the trenches, nailed their great guns, 
 and killed a hundred of their men, with 
 the loss only of three, and five or six 
 wounded. 
 
 " Hereupon after a month's siege, 
 and the loss of about two thousand men, 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 255 
 
 (by their own confession,) Rigby sent 
 the countess a huffing summons. To 
 which she returned this answer, ' Tell 
 that insolent rebel Rigby. that if he pre- 
 sume to send another summons within 
 this place, I will have the messenger 
 hanged up at the gates.' " 
 
 The garrison however was now re- 
 duced to the greatest distress ; their am- 
 munition and their corn were spent, and 
 they had killed for food nearly all their 
 horses. The earl hearing of their dis- 
 tress, hastened from the Isle of Man to 
 beg assistance from the king ; upon 
 which, orders were given that Prince 
 Rupert should take Lancashire in his 
 way to York ; but no sooner did Colonel 
 Rigby hear that the prince had entered 
 the county than he raised the siege, on 
 May 27th, 1644, and marched to Bolton, 
 to which place Prince Rupert followed 
 him, and took the town, sending all the 
 colours that fell into his hands to the 
 countess at Latham. He spent several 
 days with her at the house soon afterwards, 
 and left directions for repairing and forti- 
 fying it, leaving its command, at her de- 
 sire, to Captain Edward Rawsthorne, 
 whom he made colonel of a foot regiment, 
 and left her troops of horse for its defence. 
 By Captain Rawsthorne the house was 
 stoutly defended for full two years more 
 in a second siege, but at last by the 
 king's orders he delivered it up, having 
 cost the enemy no less than six thousand 
 men, and the garrison about four hun- 
 h 2 
 
256 CHARLOTTE 
 
 dred, it being one of the last places in 
 the kingdom which held out for the 
 king. When Prince Rupert had provi- 
 ded for the defence of Latham, the earl 
 returned to the Isle of Man, where his 
 presence was greatly needed, taking 
 with him his wife and children ; but 
 some of his children whom he sent over 
 into England were soon afterwards seiz- 
 ed and imprisoned by orders from the 
 House of Commons ; it was offered to 
 restore them to him, and allow him 
 peaceable possession of his whole es- 
 tates, if he would deliver the island into 
 their hands. In answer to this proposal 
 he wrote the well-known letter to Ire- 
 ton. 
 
 He remained in the Isle of Man till 
 1651, when Charles II. summoned him 
 to his assistance, and after fighting with 
 his usual valour at the battle of Wor- 
 cester, he directed the king to a place of 
 safe concealment, and parting from him, 
 hastened towards his own country, but 
 was attacked by a party of the enemy, 
 to whom he surrendered under promise 
 of quarter. The parliament, however, 
 sent down a commission to try him, and 
 he was sentenced to death. Before he 
 was beheaded he wrote a farewell letter 
 from Chester to his wife, and to his 
 three children, who were with her. 
 
 My dear Heart, 
 
 " I have heretofore sent you comfort- 
 able lines, but, alas ! I have now no 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 257 
 
 word of comfort, saving to our last and 
 best Refuge, which is Almighty God, to 
 whose will we must submit ; and when 
 we consider how he hath disposed of 
 these nations and the government there- 
 of, we have no more to do but to lay our 
 hands upon our mouths, judging our- 
 selves, and acknowledging our sins, join- 
 ed with others, to have been the cause 
 of these miseries, and to call on him with 
 tears for mercy. 
 
 " The governor of this place, Colonel 
 Ducken field, is general of the forces 
 which are now going against the Isle of 
 Man ; and, however you might do for 
 the present, in time it would be a griev- 
 ous and troublesome thing to resist, es- 
 pecially those that at this hour command 
 the three nations ; wherefore my advice, 
 notwithstanding my great affection to 
 that place, is, that you would make con- 
 ditions for yourself and servants, and 
 children, and people there, and such as 
 came over with me, to the end you may 
 get to some place of rest, where you 
 may not be concerned in war, and taking 
 thought of your poor children, you may 
 in some sort provide for them : thus 
 prepare yourself to come to your friends 
 above, in that blessed place where bliss 
 is, and no mingling of opinion. 
 
 " I conjure you, my dearest Heart, 
 by all those graces that God hath given 
 you, that you exercise your patience in 
 this great and strange trial. If harm 
 come to you, then I am dead indeed ; 
 h3 
 
258 CHARLOTTE 
 
 and until then I shall live in you, who 
 are truly the best part of myself. When 
 there is no such as I in being,' then look 
 upon yourself and my poor children ; 
 then take comfort, and God will bless 
 you. I acknowledge the great goodness 
 of God to have given me such a wife as 
 you — so great an honour to my family — 
 so excellent a companion to me — so pi- 
 ous — so much of all that can be said of 
 good, I must confess it impossible to say 
 enough thereof. I ask God pardon with 
 all my soul that I have not been enough 
 thankful for so great a benefit ; and 
 where I have done any thing at any time 
 that might justly offend you, with joined 
 hands I also ask your pardon. I have 
 no more to say to you at this time than 
 my prayers for the Almighty's blessing 
 to you, my dear Mall, and Ned, and 
 Billy. Amen, sweet Jesus !" 
 
 To Lady Mary Stanley, Edward and 
 William Stanley. 
 
 Chester, Oct. 13th, 1651. 
 " Dear Mall, my Ned, and Billy, 
 
 11 I remember well how sad you were 
 to part with me ; but now, I fear, your 
 sorrow will be greatly increased to be 
 informed that you can never see me 
 more in this world : but I charge you all 
 to strive against too great a sorrow ; you 
 are all of you of that temper that it 
 would do you much harm ; and my de- 
 sires and prayers to God are, that you 
 may have a happy life ; let it be as holy 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 259 
 
 a life as you can, and as little sinful as 
 you can avoid or prevent. 
 
 " I can well now give you that coun- 
 sel, having in myself, at this time, so 
 great sense of the vanities of my life, 
 which fill my soul with sorrow ; yet, I 
 rejoice to remember, that when I have 
 blest God with pious devotion, it has 
 been most delightful to my soul, and 
 must be my eternal happiness. 
 
 " Love the archdeacon — he will give 
 you good precepts. Obey your mother 
 with cheerfulness, and grieve her not, 
 for she is your example, your nurse, 
 your counsellor, your all under God ; 
 there never was, nor never can be, a 
 more deserving person. 
 
 " I am called away, and this is the 
 last time I shall write to you. The 
 Lord my God bless you, and guard you 
 from all evil ! So prays your father at 
 this time, whose sorrow is inexorable to 
 part with Mall, Neddy, and Billy. Re- 
 member " Derby." 
 
 At Bolton, shortly before his execu- 
 tion, he had his farewell interview with 
 his son, Lord Strange, whom he public- 
 ly charged to be dutiful to his sad 
 mother, affectionate to his distressed 
 brothers and sisters, and studious of the 
 peace of his country ; ".But especially," 
 said he, " Son, I charge you upon my 
 blessing, and upon the blessings you ex- 
 pect from God, to be ever dutiful to your 
 distressed mother, ever obedient to her 
 h 4 
 
260 CHARLOTTE 
 
 commands, and ever tender how you in 
 any thing grieve or offend her. She is a 
 person well known to the most eminent 
 personages of England, France, Ger- 
 many, and Holland ; noted for piety, 
 prudence, and all honourable virtues ; 
 and certainly the more you are obedient 
 unto her, the more you will increase in 
 favour with God and man." 
 
 His affectionate remembrance of his 
 wife and children to the last is shown in 
 the narrative of his death written by 
 Mr. Bagaley, one of his gentlemen, who 
 was allowed to attend him to the scaf- 
 fold.* 
 
 The countess, on hearing of her hus- 
 band's death, retired into Castle Rushen, 
 where she resolved to defend herself to 
 the last extremity. She was however 
 prevented from fulfilling this resolution 
 by the conduct of William Christian, a 
 native of the island, who with his family 
 had been formerly opposed to the earl 
 in some of his measures of government ; 
 immediately after his death Christian 
 communicated with Colonel Ducken- 
 field, when he came with several armed 
 vessels to invade the island, and upon 
 the agreement made with him by Chris- 
 tian and his party, it was surrendered 
 into his hands. The countess was de- 
 tained in prison with those of her chil- 
 dren who were with her, where they 
 
 * See Bagaley's Narrative at the end of the 
 Life. 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 261 
 
 are said to have suffered great want, and 
 to have been relieved by assistance sent 
 from their friends. 
 
 In September, 1662, William Chris- 
 tian was brought to a trial in the Isle of 
 Man upon a mandate issued by Charles, 
 then Earl of Derby, and being found 
 guilty of betraying the island to the 
 Commonwealth's men, he was shot in 
 the month of January following. It 
 appears that the English government 
 did not allow the extent of power which 
 enabled the Earl of Derby, as Lord of 
 Man, to execute a sentence of death, 
 and that he was in consequence sen- 
 tenced to pay a heavy line. This his- 
 tory, commonly known by its being al- 
 luded to in Peveril of the Peak, has led 
 to an impression of revengeful feeling on 
 the part of the widowed countess, most 
 distant from the last wishes of her hus- 
 band, or from the character which he at- 
 tributed to her ; but there appears no 
 evidence that Christian's death was other 
 than an action supposed to be a just and 
 legal punishment by those who decided 
 upon it, nor that the countess had any 
 part in the matter, since her son would 
 seem to have been at that time of an age 
 to act for himself. In 1658 he fought 
 on the king's part ; after the restoration 
 he was appointed Lord Lieutenant of 
 Lancashire, and in the proceedings 
 against Christian her name is only men- 
 tioned with reference to his having be- 
 trayed her to her enemies, not as if she 
 h 5 
 
26*2 CHARLOTTE 
 
 took any part in accusing or condemn- 
 ing him. 
 
 It does not appear whether her two 
 daughters, Katharine and Amelia, who 
 were in England at the time of their 
 father's death, were with her before the 
 Restoration. In the three years during 
 which she survived it, she lived at 
 Knowsly Hall, in Lancashire, and was 
 buried with her husband, at Ormskirk, 
 in the same county, in March, 1663. 
 Her three daughters were married to 
 the Earl of Strafford, the Marquis of 
 Dorchester, and the Earl of Athol. 
 
 Her eldest son Charles married Doro- 
 thea Helena Kirkhoven, whose fa- 
 ther appears to have been a native of 
 Holland, but her mother was Countess 
 of Chesterfield. A funeral sermon in 
 memory of this lady is preserved, in 
 which she is described as having prac- 
 tised the duties of a member of the Eng- 
 lish Church,, regularly attending the 
 common prayer in her family as v/ell as 
 diligent in her private devotions, a con- 
 stant communicant, and remarkable for 
 her charitable attention to the poor, and 
 for her domestic virtues. The Sunday 
 before her death she desired to partake 
 of the Lord's Supper, which she did, 
 with (piiet and humble devotion; and 
 enjoying the use of her reason to the last 
 moment, she joined fervently in the 
 prayers appointed for the Visitation of 
 the Sick : when she embraced her son 
 for the last time, she exerted her whole 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 263 
 
 strength in saying, " Fear God." She 
 outlived her husband thirty-one years, 
 and was buried with him at Ormskirk, 
 in 1703. 
 
 Narrative of Lord Derby's death, by 
 Mr. Bagaley. 
 
 " Upon Monday, October 13th, 1651, 
 my lord procured me liberty to wait up- 
 on him, having been close prisoner ten 
 days. He told me the night before, Mr. 
 Slater, Colonel Duckenfield's chaplain, 
 had been with him from the governor, to 
 persuade his lordship, that they were 
 confident his life was in no danger ; but 
 his lordship told me he heard him pa- 
 tiently, but did not believe him ; for, 
 says he, ' I was resolved not to be de- 
 ceived with the vain hopes of this fading 
 world.' 
 
 " After we had talked a quarter of 
 an hour, he discoursed his own com- 
 mands to me, in order to my journey to 
 the Isle of Man ; as to his consent to my 
 lady, to deliver it on those articles his 
 lordship had signed. "With many affec- 
 tionate protestations of his honour and 
 respect of my lady, both for her birth 
 and goodness as a wife, and much ten- 
 derness of his children there. 
 
 " Then immediately came in one 
 Lieutenant Smith, a rude fellow, and 
 with his hat on ; he told my lord he 
 came from Colonel Duckenfield, the 
 governor, to tell his lordship he must be 
 ready for his journey to Bolton. My 
 h 6 
 
264 CHARLOTTE 
 
 lord replied, • When would you have me 
 to go V 
 
 " ' To-morrow, about six in the morn- 
 ing,' said Smith. 
 
 " ' Well,' said my lord, ' commend me 
 to the governor, and tell him, by that 
 time I will be ready.' 
 
 "Then Smith said, 'Doth your lord- 
 ship know any friend or servant that 
 would do the thing that your lordship 
 knows of?' 
 
 11 My lord replied, 'What do you 
 mean ? would you have me find one to 
 cut off my head ?' 
 
 " Smith said, ' Yes, my lord, if you 
 could have a friend.' 
 
 "My lord said, ' Nay, sir, if those 
 men that would have my head will not 
 find one to cut it off, let it stand where 
 it is. I thank God, my life has not been 
 so bad that I should be instrumental to 
 deprive myself of it, though He has 
 been so merciful to me, as to be well-re- 
 solved against the worst terrors of death. 
 And for me and my servants, our ways 
 have been to prosecute a just war by 
 honourable and just means, and not by 
 these ways of blood, which to you is a 
 trade.' 
 
 " Then Smith went out and called me 
 to him, and repeated his discourses and 
 desires to me. I only told him, my 
 lord had given him an answer. At my 
 coming in again, my lord called for pen 
 and ink, and writ his last letter to my 
 lady, to my Lady Mary, and his sons, 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 2G5 
 
 in the Isle of Man. And in the mean 
 time Monsieur Paul Moreau, a servant 
 of my lord's, went and bought all the 
 rings he could get, and lapped them up 
 in several papers, and writ within them, 
 and made me superscribe them to all his 
 children and servants. The rest of the 
 day, being Monday, he spent with my 
 Lord Strange, my Lady Katharine, and 
 my Lady Amelia. At night, about six, 
 I came to him again, when the ladies 
 were to go away. And as we were 
 walking, and my lord telling me he 
 would receive the Sacrament next morn- 
 ing, on Wednesday morning both, in 
 came the aforesaid Smith, and said, ' My 
 lord, the governor desires you will be 
 ready to go in the morning, by 7 o'clock.' 
 
 " My lord replied, ' Lieutenant, pray 
 tell the governor, 1 shall not have occa- 
 sion to go so early ; by nine o'clock will 
 serve my turn, and by that time I will 
 be ready : if he has not earnester occa- 
 sions, he may take his own hour.' 
 
 " That night I staid, and at supper 
 my lord was exceeding cheerful and 
 well-composed ; he drank to Sir Timo- 
 thy Featherstone, (who was a gentle- 
 man that suffered at Chester a week 
 after in the same cause,) and said, ' Sir, 
 be of good comfort, I go willingly before 
 you, and God hath so strengthened me, 
 that you shall hear (by his assistance) 
 that 1 shall so submit, both as a Chris- 
 tian and a soldier, as to be both a com- 
 fort and an example to you.' 
 h 7 
 
266 CHARLOTTE 
 
 " Then he often remembered my Lady- 
 Mary, with my lady his wife, and his 
 sons, and drank to me and to all his ser- 
 vants, especially Andrew Broom ; and 
 said, he hoped that they that loved him 
 would never forsake his wife and chil- 
 dren, and he doubted not but God would 
 be a father to them, and provide for 
 them after his death. 
 
 " In the morning my lord delivered to 
 me the letters for the island, and said, 
 * Here, Bagaley, deliver these with my 
 tender affections to my dear wife, and 
 sweet children, which shall continue 
 with my prayers for them to the last 
 minute of my life. I have instructed 
 you as to all things for your journey. 
 But as to that sad part of it, (as to them,) 
 I can say nothing. Silence and your 
 own looks will best tell your message. 
 The great God of heaven direct you, 
 and prosper and comfort them in this 
 their great affliction.' 
 
 11 Then his lordship took leave of Sir 
 Timothy Featherstone, much in the 
 same, words as overnight. When he 
 came to the Castle-gate, Mr. Crossin 
 and three other gentlemen, who were 
 condemned, came out of the dungeon 
 (at my lord's request to the marshal) 
 and kissed his hand, and wept to take 
 their leave. My lord said, k God bless 
 and keep you, I hope my blood will 
 satisfy for all that were with me, and 
 you will in a short time be at liberty ; 
 but if the cruelty of these men will not 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 267 
 
 end there, be of good comfort, God will 
 strengthen you, to endure to the last, as 
 He has done me. For you shall hear I 
 die like a Christian, a man, and a sol- 
 dier, and an obedient subject to the most 
 just and virtuous prince this day living 
 in the world !' 
 
 '* After we were out of town, the peo- 
 ple weeping, my lord, with an humble 
 behaviour and noble courage, about half 
 a mile off, took leave of them ; then of 
 my Lady Katharine and Amelia, upon 
 his knees by the coach-side (alighting 
 for that end from his horse) and there 
 prayed for them, and saluted them, and 
 60 parted. This was the saddest hour I 
 ever saw, so much tenderness and affec- 
 tion on both sides. 
 
 11 That night, Tuesday, October 14th, 
 1651, we came to Leigh, but in the way 
 thither, his lordship, as we rode along, 
 called me to him, and bid me, when I 
 should come into the Isle of Man, to 
 commend me to the archdeacon there, 
 and tell him he well remembered the 
 several discourses that had passed be- 
 tween them there, concerning death, 
 and the manner of it ; that he had often 
 said the thoughts of death could not 
 trouble him in fight, or with a sword 
 in his hand, but he feared it would some- 
 thing startle him, tamely to submit to a 
 blow on the scaffold. ' But,' said his 
 lordship, * Tell the archdeacon from me, 
 that I do now find in myself an absolute 
 change as to that opinion ; for I do bless 
 h 8 
 
268 CHARLOTTE 
 
 God for it, who hath put this comfort 
 and courage into my soul, that I can as 
 willingly now lay down my head upon 
 the block, as ever I did upon a pillow.' 
 
 14 My lord supped a competent meal, 
 saying he would imitate his Saviour : a 
 supper should be his last act in this 
 world, and indeed his Saviour's own 
 supper hefore he came to his Cross, 
 which would be to-morrow. At night 
 when he laid him down upon the right 
 side, with his hand under his face, he 
 said, ' Methinks I lie like a monument, 
 in a church, and to-morrow I shall real- 
 ly be so.' 
 
 4i As soon as he rose in the morning, 
 he put on a fresh shirt, and then said, 
 * This shall be my winding sheet, for 
 this was constantly my meditation in 
 this action. See,' said he to Mr. Paul. 
 4 that it be not taken away from me, for 
 I will be buried in it.' 
 
 " Then he called for my Lord Strange 
 to put on his order, and said, ' Charles, 
 once this day I will send it to you again 
 by Bagaley ; pray return it to our gra- 
 cious sovereign, when you shall be so 
 happy as to see him ; and say, I sent it 
 in all humility and gratitude, as I re- 
 ceived it, spotless and free from any 
 stain, according to the honourable exam- 
 ple of my ancestors.' 
 
 " Then we went to prayer, and my 
 lord commanded Mr. Greenhaugh to read 
 the Decalogue, and at the end of every 
 commandment made his confession, and 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 269 
 
 then received absolution and the sacra- 
 ment ; after which, and prayers ended, 
 he called for pen and ink, and wrote his 
 last speech, also a note to Sir E. S. 
 
 "When we were ready to go, he drank 
 a cup of beer to my lady, and Lady 
 Mary, and Masters, and Mr. Archdeacon, 
 and all his friends in the island ; and bid 
 me remember him to them, and tell the 
 Archdeacon he said the old grace he al- 
 ways used, &c. Then he would have 
 walked into the church, and seen Mr. 
 Tildesley's grave, but he was not per- 
 mitted, nor to ride that day upon his 
 own horse ; but they put him on a little 
 nag, saying they were fearful the people 
 would rescue his lordship. 
 
 *■• As we were going in the middle 
 way to Bolton, the wind came easterly, 
 which my lord perceived, and said to 
 me, ' Bagaley, there is a great difference 
 between you and me now, for I know 
 where I shall rest to-night, in Wigan. 
 with the prayers and tears of that poor 
 people ; and every alteration moves you 
 of this world, for you must leave me to 
 go to my wife and children in the Isle of 
 Man, and are uncertain where you shall 
 be ; but do not leave until you see me bu- 
 ried, which shall be as I have told you.' " 
 
 Some remarkable passages to my lord's 
 going to the scaffold, -and his being 
 upon it, with his last speech and dying 
 words. 
 
 ** Betwixt twelve and one o'clock on 
 h 9 
 
270 CHARLOTTE 
 
 Wednesday, October 15th, the Earl of 
 Derby came to Bolton, guarded with 
 two troops of horse, and a company of 
 foot; the people weeping and praying 
 all the way he went, even from the cas- 
 tle, his prison at Chester, to the scaffold 
 at Bolton, where his soul was freed from 
 the prison of his body. His lordship 
 being to go to a house in Bolton, near 
 the cross, where the scaffold was raised, 
 and passing by, he said, ' This must be 
 my cross.' And so going into a chamber 
 with some friends and servants, bad time 
 courteously allowed him by the com- 
 mander in chief, till three o'clock that 
 day, the scaffold not being ready, by 
 reason the people in the town refused to 
 strike a nail in it, or to give them any 
 assistance ; many of them saying, that 
 since these wars, they have had many 
 and great losses, but none like this, it 
 being the greatest that ever befel them, 
 that the Earl of Derby should lose his 
 life there, and in such a manner. His 
 lordship, as I told you, having till three 
 o'clock allowed him, I spent that time 
 with those who were with him, in pray- 
 ing with them, and telling them how he 
 had lived, and how he had prepared to 
 die, how he feared it not, and how the 
 Lord had strengthened him and comfort- 
 ed him against the terrors of death ; and 
 after such like words, he desired them 
 to pray with him again ; and after that, 
 giving some good instructions to his son, 
 Lord Strange, he desired to be in pri- 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 271 
 
 vate, where we left him with his God, 
 where he continued upon his knees a 
 good while in prayer. Then called for 
 us again, telling how willing he was to 
 die and part with this world ; and that 
 the fear of death was never any great 
 trouble to him, never since his imprison- 
 ment, though he had still two soldiers 
 with him night and day in the chamber. 
 Only the care he had of his wife and 
 children, and the fear what would be- 
 come of them, was often in his thoughts. 
 But now he was satisfied that God would 
 be a husband and a father to them, into 
 whose hands he committed them ; and 
 so, taking leave of his son, and blessing 
 him, he called for the officer, and told 
 him he was ready. At his going towards 
 the scaffold, the people prayed and cried, 
 and cried and piayed. His lordship, 
 with a courteous humbleness, said, ' Good 
 people, I thank you all ; I beseech you 
 pray for me to the last. The God of 
 heaven bless you, the Son of God bless 
 you, and God the Holy Ghost fill you 
 with comfort.' And so coming near the 
 scaffold, he laid his hand on the ladder, 
 saying, ' I am not afraid to go up here, 
 though I am to die there ; ' and so he 
 kissed it, and went up, and walking a 
 while upon the scaffold, settled himself 
 at the east end of it, and made his ad- 
 dress to the people thus, viz. : 
 
 " • I come, and am content to die in 
 this town, where I endeavoured to come 
 the last time I was in Lancashire, and 
 
272 CHARLOTTE 
 
 to a place where I persuaded myself to 
 be welcome, in regard the people there- 
 of have reason to be satisfied in my love 
 and affection to them ; and that now they 
 understand sufficiently. I am no man 
 of blood, as some have falsely slandered 
 me, especially in the killing of a captain 
 in this town ; whose death is now de- 
 clared on oath, so as the time and place 
 now appears under, the hand of a Master 
 in Chancery, besides the several attest- 
 ations of a gentleman of honour in the 
 kingdom, who was in the fight in this 
 town, and of others of good report, both 
 in the town and country ; and I am con- 
 fident there are some in this place who 
 can witness my mercy and care, for 
 sparing many men's lives that day. 
 
 " ' As for my crime, (as some are 
 pleased to call it,) to come into this 
 country with the king, I hope it deserves 
 a better name ; for I did it in obedience 
 to his call, whom I hold myself obliged 
 to obey, according to the protestation I 
 took in Parliament in his father's time. 
 I confess I love monarchy, and I love 
 my master, Charles, the second of that 
 name, whom I myself proclaimed in this 
 country to be king. The Lord bless 
 him and preserve him ; I assure you he 
 is the most godly, virtuous, valiant, and 
 most discreet king that I know lives this 
 day ; and I wish so much happiness to 
 this people after my death, that he may 
 enjoy his right, and then they cannot 
 want their rights. I profess here, in the 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 273 
 
 presence of God, I always fought for 
 peace ; and I had no other reason, for I 
 wanted neither means nor honours, nor 
 did I seek to enlarge either. By my 
 king's predecessors, mine were raised to 
 a high condition, it is*well known to the 
 country ; and it is as well known, that 
 by his enemies I am condemned to suffer 
 by new and unknown laws.- The Lord 
 send us our king again, and our old laws 
 again, and the Lord send us our religion 
 again. 
 
 " ' As for that which is practised now, 
 it has no name ; and methinks there is 
 more talk of religion, than any good ef- 
 fects of it. 
 
 " ' Truly, to me it seems I die for 
 God, the king, and the laws; and this 
 makes me not ashamed of my life, nor 
 afraid of my death.' 
 
 " At which words, ' the king and laws,* 
 a trooper cried, ' We have no king, and 
 we will have no lords.' Then some sud- 
 den fear of mutiny fell among the sol- 
 diers, and his lordship was interrupted, 
 which some of the officers were troubled 
 at, and his friends much grieved, his 
 lordship having freedom of speech prom- 
 ised him. His lordship, seeing the 
 troopers scattered in the streets, cutting 
 and slashing the people with their swords, 
 said, | What's the matter, gentlemen ? 
 Where's the guilt ? I fly not, and here 
 is none to pursue you.' Then his lord- 
 ship, perceiving he might not speak 
 freely, turned himself to his servants and 
 
274 CHARLOTTE 
 
 gave liim his paper, and commanded him 
 to let the world know what he had to 
 say, had he not been disturbed ; which 
 is as follows, as it was in my lord's pa- 
 per, under his own hand : 
 
 " ' My sentence (upon which I am 
 brought hither) was by a Council of 
 War ; nothing in the captain's case al- 
 leged against me ; which Council I had 
 reason to expect would have justified my 
 plea for quarter, that being an ancient 
 and honourable plea amongst soldiers, 
 and not violated (that I know of) till 
 this time, that I am made the first suf- 
 fering precedent, in this case. I wish 
 no other to suffer in the like case. Now 
 I must die, and am ready to die, I thank 
 my God with a good conscience, without 
 any malice, on any ground whatever ; 
 though others would not find mercy upon 
 me, upon just and fair grounds ; so my 
 Saviour prayed for His enemies, and so 
 do I for mine. 
 
 " ' As for my faith and my religion, 
 thus much I have at this time to say : I 
 profess my faith to be in Jesus Christ, 
 who died for me, from whom I look for 
 my salvation ; that is, through His only 
 merit and sufferings. And I die a dutiful 
 son of the Church of England, as it was 
 established in my late Master's time and 
 reign, and is yet professed in the Isle of 
 Man, which is no little comfort to me. 
 
 " ' I thank my God for the quiet of 
 my conscience at this time, and the as- 
 surance of those joys that are prepared 
 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 275 
 
 for those that fear Him. Good people, 
 pray for me ; I do for you. The God 
 of heaven bless you all, and send you 
 peace ; that God, that is truth itself, 
 give you grace, and peace, and truth. 
 Amen.' 
 
 " Presently, after the uproar was 
 ceased, his lordship, walking to the scaf- 
 fold, called for the headsman, and asked 
 to see the axe, saying, ' Come, friend, 
 give it me into my hand ; I'll neither 
 hurt it nor thee, and it cannot hurt me ; 
 I am not afraid of it ;' but kissed it, and 
 so gave it to the headsman again. Then 
 asked for the block, which was not ready, 
 and turned his eyes and said, ' How long, 
 Lord, how long!' Then putting his 
 hand in his pocket, gave him two pieces 
 of gold, saying, ' This is all I have ; take 
 it, and do thy work well. And when I 
 am upon the block, and lift up my hand, 
 then do your work ; but I doubt your 
 coat is too burly, (being of great black 
 shag,) it will hinder you, or trouble you.' 
 Some, standing by, bid him ask his lord- 
 ship's forgiveness ; but he was either too 
 sullen or too slow, for his lordship for- 
 gave him before he asked him. And so 
 passing to the other end of the scaffold, 
 where his coffin lay, spying one of his 
 chaplains on horseback among the troop- 
 ers, said, • Sir, remember me to your 
 brothers and friends ; you see I am 
 ready, and the block is not ready ; but 
 when I am got into my chamber, as I 
 shall not be long out of it, (pointing to 
 
276 CHARLOTTE, ETC. 
 
 his coffin,) I shall be at rest, and not 
 troubled with such a guard and noise as 
 I have been;' and so turning himself 
 again, he saw the block, and asked if it 
 was ready, and so going to the place 
 where he began his speech, said, ' Good 
 people, I thank you for your prayers and 
 for your tears. I have heard the one, 
 and seen the other ; and our God sees 
 and hears both. Now the God of heaven 
 bless you all. Amen.' And so bowing, 
 turned himself towards the block, and 
 then looking towards the church, his 
 lordship caused the block to be turned, 
 and laid that ways, saying, ' I will look 
 towards the Sanctuary which is above 
 for ever.' Then, having his doublet off, 
 he asked, l How must I lie ? Will any 
 one show me ? I never yet saw any 
 man's head cut off; but I will try how it 
 fits.' And so laying him down, and 
 stretching himself upon it, he rose again, 
 and caused it to be a little removed, and 
 standing up, and looking towards the 
 headsman, said, ' Remember what I told 
 you : when I lift up my hands, then do 
 your work.' 
 
 " And looking at his friends about him, 
 bowing said, ' The Lord be with you all; 
 pray for me.' And so kneeling on his 
 knees, made a short and private prayer, 
 ending with the Lord's Prayer. And 
 so bowing himself again, said, 'The Lord 
 bless my wife and children ; the Lord 
 bless us all.' So laying his neck upon 
 the block, and his arms stretched out, he 
 said these words aloud : — 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 277 
 
 " ' Blessed be God's glorious name for 
 ever and ever. Amen. 
 
 " ' Let the whole earth be filled with 
 His glory. Amen.' 
 
 " And then lifting up his hands, was 
 ready to give up the ghost ; but the ex- 
 ecutioner, not well observing, was too 
 slow. So his lordship rose again, say- 
 ing, (to the headsman,) 'What have I 
 done that I die not ? Why do not you 
 your work ? Well, 1 will lay myself 
 down once again in peace, and I hope I 
 shall enjoy everlasting peace.' So he 
 laid himself down again, with his neck 
 to the block, and his arms stretched out, 
 saying the same words : ' Blessed be 
 God's glorious name for ever and ever. 
 Amen. Let the whole earth be filled 
 with His glory. Amen.' 
 
 " And then lifting up his hands, the 
 executioner did his work, and no manner 
 of noise was then heard but sighs and 
 sobs." 
 
 ANNE CLIFFORD, 
 
 COUNTESS OF DORSET, PEMBROKE AND 
 MONTGOMERY. 
 
 The name of Anne Clifford must 
 find its place in any enumeration of loyal 
 Cliurchwomen ; and the history of her 
 widowhood will fall within the scope of 
 these notices ; though of her long life, 
 
278 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 extending through some part of four 
 reigns, only a sketch can here be given. 
 
 She was the daughter of George Clif- 
 ford, third Earl of Cumberland, distin- 
 guished in Queen Elizabeth's reign, and 
 of Lady Margaret Russel, daughter to 
 Francis, Earl of Bedford. Anne, the 
 only child who survived them, was born 
 at Skipton Castle, in Yorkshire, January 
 30th, 1589. On a separation taking place 
 between her parents, she remained in 
 the charge of her mother ; and her father 
 dying when she was eleven, she became 
 Baroness Clifford, the earldom going to 
 another branch of the family. She was 
 married in her twenty-first year to 
 Richard, Earl of Dorset, who died fifteen 
 years afterwards ; and when she had 
 passed her fortieth year she was married 
 again to Philip Herbert, Earl of Pem- 
 broke and Montgomery. Both these 
 marriages proved unhappy, the second 
 more especially, as Lord Pembroke 
 united every quality which could offend 
 his high-spirited, upright, and loyal wife. 
 She was at length separated from him ; 
 and in 1649 his death set her at liberty. 
 Her three sons, by her first marriage, 
 died young; and two daughters only re- 
 mained, Margaret, married to John Tuf- 
 ton, Earl of Thanet ; and Isabella, to 
 James Compton, Earl of Northampton. 
 By her second husband she had no chil- 
 dren. 
 
 When she entered upon her second 
 widowhood, she retired to her own 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 279 
 
 princely estates in the north, which she 
 had strenuously guarded from alienation 
 during the life-time of her husbands, as 
 indeed she assigns her refusal to sell any 
 part of them for the supply of Lord 
 Dorset's extravagance, as one cause of 
 her dissensions with him. They were 
 now also freed from the claims of the 
 male heirs of the Cliffords, who, inherit- 
 ing the earldom, claimed also some of the 
 estates, and had obtained a decision in 
 their favour from James I., to which the 
 countess refused to submit. Upon the 
 death of Francis, Earl of Cumberland, in 
 1643, the Clifford estates became her 
 undisputed property, and she now added 
 to them two large jointures, one from 
 the Earl of Dorset, of three or four 
 thousand a year, and one almost equal to 
 it from the Earl of Pembroke. 
 
 When she came in July, 1649, to 
 Skipton Castle, in Yorkshire, the chief 
 residence of her ancestors, she found it 
 in great measure ruined by the late 
 wars ; and early in the following spring 
 she returned to it and began the repairs, 
 during which she inhabited a large oc- 
 tagon chamber communicating with a 
 gallery, which was still entire. !?he 
 completed her work in 1656, when she 
 placed this inscription over the gate : 
 
 " This castle was repaired by the 
 Lady Anne Clifford. Countess Dowager 
 of Pembroke, &c, after the main part 
 of it had lain ruinous ever since 1648, 
 when it was demolished almost to the 
 
280 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 ground, by the Parliament then sitting 
 at Westminster, because it had been a 
 garrison in the civil wars. Isa. lviii. 12. 
 Laus Deo." 
 
 Besides this great work, she restored 
 the castles of Appleby, Brougham, 
 Brough. and Pendragon, and Barden 
 Tower, several of which bad lain deso- 
 late since the border wars with the 
 Scotch. Of this undertaking, Bishop 
 Rainbow says in his sermon, preached 
 from the text, " Every wise woman 
 buildeth her house," k ' Gratitude to her 
 ancestors was another end of her build- 
 ing, that she might with some cost hold 
 up, what they with such vast expense 
 had founded and built. Six ancient cas- 
 tles, ample and magnificent, which her 
 noble ancestors had built, and sometimes 
 held up with great honour to themselves 
 and security to their sovereigns, and 
 hospitality to their friends and strangers, 
 now by the rage of war, or time, or acci- 
 dents, pulled or fallen down, or made 
 uninhabitable, scarce one of these six 
 that showed more than the skeleton of a 
 house ; her reviving spirit put life into 
 the work, made these scattered stones 
 come together, those ruins forsake their 
 rubbish, and lift up their heads to their 
 former height. A marvellous task it was 
 which she undertook, to design the re- 
 building of so many and such great fab- 
 rics, to rear up these, when the earthly 
 house of her tabernacle began to stoop 
 and decline, being about the sixtieth 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 281 
 
 year of her age when she began ; who 
 then could hope to finish ? but when she 
 did. consider in her great mind, did think 
 upon the stones, and it pitied her to see 
 them in the dust, her prudence (as with 
 her hands) set in the work, raised, ce- 
 mented, and finished." 
 
 Her friends advised her not to be so 
 profuse in building, as they were well 
 assured that as soon as she had built her 
 castles, Cromwell would order them to 
 be destroyed ; but she answered, " Let 
 him destroy them if he will : but he 
 shall surely find that as often as he de- 
 stroys them, I will rebuild them, while 
 he leaves me a shilling in my pocket." 
 
 Her affairs were so involved, in con- 
 sequence of the late claims upon her es- 
 tates, that she was obliged to recover 
 some of her rights by a tedious lawsuit, 
 and the affair was laid before Cromwell 
 by the opposite party, upon which he 
 offered his mediation. The countess re- 
 plied, that she would not accept it, 
 while there was any law to be found in 
 England. " What," she said, " does he 
 imagine that I, who refused to submit 
 to King James, will submit to him ?" 
 
 Her castles were not, however, pulled 
 down, nor her estates injured, which was 
 ascribed by some persons to Cromwell's 
 admiration of her courage, and by others 
 to his fear of offending her numerous 
 friends. She suffered some inconve- 
 nience for her loyalty, for when she 
 came to Skipton Castle, in 1656, it was 
 
282 ANJNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 filled with soldiers under the command 
 of Major Harrison, on suspicion of her 
 sending supplies privately to the exiled 
 king ; but being unable to prove this, 
 Harrison could only dispute with her on 
 her loyalty, and received her assurance 
 that she loved the king, and that she 
 would live and die in her allegiance to 
 him. As her religious principles were 
 not less suspicious to the Protector's 
 government, some of the Independent 
 ministers, accompanied by others better 
 disposed, came to her whilst her castle 
 was thus garrisoned, which it was for 
 several months, and examined her as to 
 her religion. 
 
 " She made answer that her faith was 
 built upon the foundation of the Proph- 
 ets and Apostles, that is, upon the Holy 
 Scriptures, the Word of God, as de- 
 livered and expounded by the Church of 
 England, whose doctrine, discipline and 
 worship, as by law established, she was 
 bred in, and had embraced, and by God's 
 grace would persist in it to her life's 
 end." 
 
 Finding they could produce no effect, 
 they left her, one of them, it is said, 
 weeping as he went, and she persevered 
 in her fidelity to her Church, refusing 
 to communicate in any other manner 
 than that appointed by the Prayer-book, 
 and rendering all the assistance in her 
 power to the ejected clergy, particularly 
 to Dr. King, afterwards Bishop of Chi- 
 chester, and to Duppa and Morley, both 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 2^3 
 
 afterwards Bishops of Winchester ; to 
 each of these she allowed d£40 a year, 
 till they informed her that whilst living 
 abroad a sum of money would be of 
 greater use, and she then sent d£l,000 
 to be divided among them. 
 
 The parish church at Skipton had suf- 
 fered during the long siege of the castle, 
 and was repaired by the countess, who, 
 after restoring the steeple, placed upon 
 it an inscription recording what she had 
 done, and also placed her initials, A. P., 
 in most of the windows of the church. 
 She raised within the chancel a stately 
 tomb of black marble, enclosed within 
 iron rails, to the memory of her father. 
 For her own burial she made prepara- 
 tion, not in this church which had been 
 the common burial place of her ances- 
 tors, but in the chapel at Appleby, 
 where her mother was buried : having 
 made a vault at the north-east corner of 
 this chapel, she raised over it a monu- 
 ment of black and white marble for her- 
 self. She rebuilt also the church at 
 Bongate, the chapels of Brougham, Nine- 
 kirk, and Mallerstang, besides founding 
 and endowing schools and other chari- 
 ties. She repaired and restored an 
 almshouse at Bethmesley, which had 
 been built and endowed by her mother. 
 
 For her mother's memory she showed 
 a tenderness which is remarkable in con- 
 trast with the sterner features of her 
 character. " She never spoke of her 
 but in terms of enthusiastic veneration, 
 
2|4 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 and usually with the epithet, ' my bless- 
 ed mother.' " Whilst enumerating in 
 her memoirs the mercies which had 
 been vouchsafed to her, she wrote thus : 
 
 44 1 must not forget to acknowledge, 
 that in my infancy and youth, I have 
 escaped many dangers both by fire and 
 water," &c, " and much the better by 
 the help of the prayers of my devout 
 mother, who incessantly begged of God 
 for my safety and protection." In an- 
 other place, after speaking with sufficient 
 confidence of her own conduct during 
 the difficulties and troubles of her two 
 marriages, she adds, '"by a happy ge- 
 nius I overcame all these troubles, the 
 prayers of my blessed mother helping 
 me therein." 
 
 In a letter addressed to her by George 
 Herbert, after her second marriage had 
 connected her with his family, he wrote 
 thus : " A priest's blessing, though it be 
 none of the court-style, yet doubtless, 
 Madam, can do you no hurt. Where- 
 fore the Lord make good the blessing of 
 your mother upon you, and cause all her 
 wishes, diligence, prayers, and tears, to 
 bud, blow, and bear fruit in your soul, 
 to His glory, your own good, and the 
 great joy of, 
 
 44 Madam, 
 44 Your most faithful Servant 
 44 In Christ Jesu, 
 44 George Herbert. 
 
 " Dec. 10th, 1631. Bemerton." 
 
 Her mother died soon after her first 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 285 
 
 marriage, having parted from her seven 
 weeks before, on the road between Pen- 
 rith and Appleby ; and when she came 
 in her second widowhood to live in the 
 north, she raised a pillar, still known in 
 that country by the name of the Coun- 
 tess' Pillar. " It is decorated with her 
 arms, a sundial for the benefit of travel- 
 lers, and the following inscription : l This 
 pillar was erected in the year 1656, by 
 Anne, Countess Dowager of Pembroke, 
 &c, for a memorial of her last parting, 
 in this place, with her good and pious 
 mother, Margaret, Countess Dowager of 
 Cumberland, on the 2d of April, 1616. 
 In memory whereof she hath left an an- 
 nuity of four pounds to be distributed to 
 the poor of the parish of Brougham eve- 
 ry 2d day of April for ever, upon the 
 stone table placed hard by. Laus 
 Deo.'" 
 
 Speaking of this memorial, we read in 
 her funeral sermon, already mentioned, 
 " One of the first things, as I am inform- 
 ed, which she built was, (what Jacob 
 had first done,) a pillar. She built a 
 pillar, a monument, which stands in the 
 highway, at the place where her en- 
 deared mother and she last parted, and 
 took their final farewell. And as Jacob 
 did, she poured oil upon this pillar, the 
 oil of charity, pouring down then and 
 yearly since, (and that the cruse of oil 
 may never fail, ordered to be always 
 continued,) at a set day every year a 
 sum of money, that oil to make glad the 
 
286 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 heart of the poor, and withal to be a pre- 
 cious ointment to perfume her pious 
 mother's memory, that her good name 
 and their mutual dearness of affection 
 might be engraven and remembered by 
 their posterity and the poor to all gene- 
 rations. A good omen of a happy build- 
 er, whose foundations are charity and 
 piety, the sapphires and agates mention- 
 ed, Isa. liv. 11." 
 
 She is said to have erected the monu- 
 ment to the poet Spenser in Westmin- 
 ster Abbey : and in affectionate remem- 
 brance of the poet Daniel, who had been 
 her tutor, she raised a monument to him 
 in Beckington Church, in Somerset- 
 shire, commemorating the office that 
 he had filled towards her, and her grati- 
 tude in consequence. His portrait and 
 that of her governess, Mrs. Anne Tay- 
 lor, were introduced in the picture she 
 caused to be painted, representing her- 
 self and her family. It consisted of a 
 centre and two wings, the centre con- 
 taining portraits of her father, mother, 
 and brother, and each of the wings her 
 own likeness at different periods of life, 
 one as a maiden of thirteen, the other as a 
 widow clothed in a black serge habit, with 
 sad-coloured hood. In each of these, 
 books are introduced ; in the back- 
 ground of the younger portrait were the 
 works of St. Augustine and Eusebius, 
 Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, Camden, 
 and Agrippa on the Vanity of Occult 
 Sciences. In the other, the books are con- 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 287 
 
 fined, with the exception of one on Dis- 
 tillation and Medicine, to the Bible, and 
 Charron on Wisdom. 
 
 Bishop Rainbow says of her, " She 
 had early gained a knowledge, as of the 
 best things, so an ability to discourse in 
 all commendable arts and sciences, as 
 well as in those things which belong to 
 persons of her birth and sex to know. 
 For she could discourse with virtuosos, 
 travellers, scholars, merchants, divines, 
 statesmen, and with good housewives in 
 any. kind, insomuch that Dr. Donne is 
 reported to have said of this lady in her 
 younger years, that she knew well how 
 to discourse of all things, from predesti- 
 nation to slea silk. Her conversation 
 was not only useful but also pleasant, as 
 she would frequently bring out of the 
 rich storehouse of her memory things 
 new and old, sentences or sayings of re- 
 mark, which she had read or learned, 
 and with these her walls, her bed, her 
 hangings and furniture were adorned, 
 for she caused her servants to write them 
 in papers, and her maids to pin them 
 up, that she or they in the time of their 
 dressing, or as occasion served, might 
 remember and make their descants on 
 them. So that though she had not many 
 books in her chamber, yet it was dress- 
 ed up with the flowers of a library." 
 
 She knew no language but her own, 
 hut took much pleasure in reading and 
 in being read to, for which she employ- 
 ed two ladies of education, who always 
 
288 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 lived with her, and when her eyes fail- 
 ed would sometimes employ a reader, 
 who marked in each book the time 
 at which he began and ended reading 
 it. 
 
 Her management of her household, 
 for which she was especially remarka- 
 ble, is thus dwelt on at length : 
 
 " As to her servants domestic, she 
 well knew that they were pars domus ; 
 and how necessary a part of the house 
 the servants are, and therefore to be 
 kept tight, sustained, and carefully held 
 up ; if in decay, to be repaired ; and 
 therefore this part of her house she was 
 always building or repairing, by the 
 hand of her bounty, as well as by good 
 and religious order in her family. In- 
 deed, she looked on some (and possibly, 
 on some of the meaner sort of her trusty 
 servants, whose offices might occasion 
 them nearer attendance) to be such as 
 Seneca allows them to be, good servants 
 
 and humble friends This heroic lady 
 
 would (besides the necessary discourses 
 with them about her affairs) divert her- 
 self by familiar conversations with her 
 servants, in which they were sure (be- 
 sides other gains from her bountiful 
 hands) to gain from the words of her 
 mouth something of remark, whether 
 pleasant or profitable, yet very memora- 
 ble for some or other occasion of life. 
 So well did she observe the wise man's 
 caution, Eccles. iv. 30, Be not a lion in 
 tiiine house ; intimating that some are 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 289 
 
 always in a rage, and brawl and fright 
 their family from their presence ; her 
 pleasantry and affability made their 
 addresses a great part of their prefer- 
 ment. 
 
 " I should now have done with that 
 part of economy which respects her ser- 
 vants, but that she had another way of 
 building, as to them ; namely, building 
 them up in the most holy faith, and also 
 giving them their meat in due season, 
 that meat which our Saviour told his 
 followers would not perish, but endure 
 to everlasting life. This spiritual meat, 
 this lady wisely took care that it might 
 be provided for all her household in due 
 season ; that is, at the three seasons in 
 the year that the Church requires it, 
 and once more in the year at the least ; 
 besides those three great festivals, she 
 made one festival more, for all that were 
 fit to be invited, or compelled (as in the 
 Gospel) to come to that supper. And 
 that all might be fitted and well pre- 
 pared, she took care that several books 
 of devotion and piety might be provided 
 four times in the year, that every one 
 might take their chf' ;e of such book as 
 they had not befor., by which means, 
 those who had lived in her house long, 
 (and she seldom turned any away,) might 
 be furnished with books of religion and 
 devotion of every kind. By these, and 
 more instances which it 'were easy to 
 produce, it appeared that this religious- 
 ly wise lady had deliberately put on 
 
290 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 Joshua's holy resolution, Josh. xxiv. 15, 
 ' / and my house will serve the Lord ;' 
 and might have the eulogy which that 
 memorable queen pronounced of the best 
 ordered family of the world, 1 Kings x. 
 8, ' Happy are thy men, happy are these 
 thy servants,' &c." 
 
 She was most watchful in the man- 
 agement of her affairs, all her receipts 
 and disbursements being noted down in 
 an office kept at each of her castles, 
 whilst she herself kept a regular account 
 of her private charities. Her economy 
 and regularity enabled her to keep up 
 the most liberal hospitality. 
 
 " Indeed the whole country, consider- 
 ing the freedom of her hospitality, was 
 in this sense her house ; nay, even all 
 of quality that did pass through the 
 country. It was held uncouth, and al- 
 most an incivility, if they did not visit 
 this lady, and her house, which stood 
 conspicuous to all comers, and her lady- 
 ship, known to be easy of access to all 
 addresses of that kind. And seldom did 
 any come under her roof who did not 
 carry some mark and memorial of her 
 house, some badge of her friendship and 
 kindness, she having always in store 
 such things as she thought fit to present. 
 She did not always consider what was 
 great, or how it suited the condition of 
 the person ; but what (as her pleasant 
 fancy suggested) might make her memo- 
 rable to the person who was to receive 
 it. Besides, in all her deeds she had a 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 291 
 
 providence and forecast with herself, 
 and also an aftercast, as you may call it, 
 and casting up her expenses, and con- 
 sulting with her officers." 
 
 Whilst treating her neighbours and 
 dependants with generosity, she was 
 sparing, even to frugality, in her per- 
 sonal expenses. She was simple and 
 abstemious in her food, and accustomed 
 " pleasantly to boast that she had never 
 tasted wine or physic." On this point 
 of her character, the same writer ob- 
 serves : " She much neglected, and 
 treated very harshly, one servant, and a 
 very ancient one, who served her from 
 her cradle, from her birth, very faithful- 
 ly, according to her mind, which ill 
 usage, therefore, her menial servants, as 
 well as her friends and children, much 
 repined at. And who this servant was, 
 I have named before. It was her body, 
 who, as I said, was a servant most ob- 
 sequious to her mind, and served her 
 fourscore and six years. 
 
 k ' It will be held scarcely credible to 
 say, but it is a truth to aver, that the 
 mistress of this family was dieted more 
 sparingly, and I believe many times 
 more homely, and clad more coarsely 
 and cheaply, than most of the servants in 
 her house. Her austerity and humility 
 were seen in nothing more than (if I 
 may allude to Coloss. ii. 23) in 'neglect- 
 ing of the body, not in any honour to the 
 satisfying of the flesh.'' Whether it were 
 by long custom, to prove with how lit- 
 i 2 
 
292 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 tie nature may be content, and that if 
 the appetite can be satisfied, the body 
 may be fed with what is most common 
 and cheap. She taught us that hunger 
 and health seek not delicacies nor fulness. 
 
 " O that those who think they cannot 
 live except they fare deliriously every 
 day, would but make trial one year how 
 they may preserve their own health, 
 and save their poor brethren from starv- 
 ing, (by hunger or nakedness,) out of 
 those superfluities and surfeits by which 
 they destroy themselves." 
 
 " We may conclude that this great 
 matron, who had such command over 
 herself, knew how to deny herself, and 
 learned our Saviour's lesson of self-de- 
 nial, and St. Paul's affirmation might be 
 hers : ' I keep under my body, and bring 
 it into subjection^ These abridgments 
 were in this lady a mortification, which 
 humility and modesty concealed, but 
 which wisdom and resolution did put in 
 practice." 
 
 Her dress, after her second widow- 
 hood, consisted of black serge, which, it 
 is said, " made many pleasant mistakes 
 between her and her attendants," but 
 she never censured others for greater 
 gayety of apparel; and when visitors 
 came to her, after the Restoration, in 
 dresses which other persons considered 
 affected and fantastical, the countess 
 only indulged in such pleasant reflec- 
 tions as rather gave pleasure than un- 
 easiness to her visitors. 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 293 
 
 She took especial delight in the alms- 
 house which she founded near Appleby, 
 for thirteen poor women, to be called a 
 mother, and twelve sisters, for which 
 she provided an endowment, and the ser- 
 vice of the Church to be performed 
 daily. With these sisters, as she liked 
 to call them, she would sit and dine in 
 their almshouse, and invite them to dine 
 and converse with her as freely as her 
 greatest guests. This institution con- 
 tinued for more than twenty-three years 
 under her care, she having with her own 
 hands laid the foundation of the build- 
 ing, and brought its inhabitants to occu- 
 py their several rooms. She was not 
 satisfied with her children and grand- 
 children when they came to visit her, if 
 they did not pay their salutations at her 
 almshouse, and she commonly admonish- 
 ed them when they came from far to 
 pay their duty to her, that before they 
 came to her for a blessing, they should 
 take the blessing of the poor, the alms- 
 women's blessing by the way. 
 
 The spirit and determination of her 
 character still subsisted, and are charac- 
 teristically shown in some trifling anec- 
 dotes. She wrote thus to Mr. Brogden, 
 reader of Bethmesley Hospital : 
 
 " Good John Brogden, 
 
 " I have received your letter, and in 
 it one from L. C, to the mother and 
 sisters of Beamsley, desiring their for- 
 bearance of the rent due to them for 
 i3 
 
294 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 some seasons, which motion of his I do 
 utterly dislike, and will by no means 
 give my assent to ; for if I or they 
 should hearken to such motions, they 
 should soon be in a very sad condition. 
 Therefore I charge you and give you 
 authority under my own hand, forthwith 
 to distrain for the said rent, and if it be 
 not thereupon paid, I will use the strict- 
 est course I can to turn him out of his 
 farm. And I pray you show him these 
 lines of mine, to witress this my pur- 
 pose and intention. And so, committing 
 you to the Almighty, I rest 
 
 " Your assured friend, 
 
 "Anne Pembroke. 
 " Appleby Castle, this 29th May, 1655. 
 
 Another letter gives her warrant for 
 rilling up a vacant place in the alms- 
 house at Bethmesley, adding that the 
 widow can only be admitted on condi- 
 tion of attending church, and hearing 
 common prayer in the almshouse, other- 
 wise the house will be brought out of order. 
 
 In a letter addressed to her successor, 
 Lord Thanet, in 1711, is the following 
 passage : 
 
 " May it please your lordship, I have 
 made inquiry about William Watson's 
 paying c£20 per annum to Mr. Sedg- 
 wick, and find several persons can re- 
 member it, and they say that the reason 
 of my Lady Pembroke's anger against 
 his father was, that he had bought tim- 
 ber of one Curror, that had been gov- 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 295 
 
 ernor of Shipton Castle, and carried it 
 away from the castle after it had been, 
 demolished, to Silsden More'."* 
 
 It was a custom on all her estates for 
 each tenant to pay, besides his rent, an 
 annual boon hen, as it was called. This 
 had ever been acknowledged a just 
 claim, and was common long after Lady 
 Pembroke's time on many great estates 
 in the north, being generally considered 
 as a steward's perquisite. " It happen- 
 ed that a rich clothier from Halifax, one 
 Murgatroyd, having taken a tenement 
 near Skipton, was called on by the 
 steward of the castle for his boon hen. 
 On his refusal to pay it, the countess or- 
 dered a suit to be commenced against 
 him. After the suit had lasted long, it 
 was carried in her favour, but at the ex- 
 pense of d£200. It is said that after the 
 affair was decided, she invited Mr. Mur- 
 gatroyd to dinner, and drawing the hen 
 to her, which was served up as the first 
 
 * There is a well known letter, purporting to 
 be from her to a minister who attempted to in- 
 terfere with the nomination of the borough of 
 Appleby. 
 
 " I have been bullied by a usurper, I have 
 been neglected by a court, but I will not be dic- 
 tated to by a subject. Your man sha'n't stand. 
 tl Anhe Dorset, 
 u Pembroke and Montgomery." 
 
 Though often quoted, it bears no trace of 
 genuineness. It was not published till 1753, 
 and the original has never been produced. The 
 style is neither her own, nor that of her age. 
 
 i 4 
 
296 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 dish, she said, ' Come, Mr. Murgatroyd, 
 let us now be good friends : since you 
 allow the hen to be dressed at my table, 
 we'll divide it between us.' " 
 
 She took great interest in the history 
 of those great northern families from 
 which she was descended, the Cliffords, 
 Veteriponts or Viponts, and Veseys. 
 *' At a great expense she employed 
 learned men to make collections for a 
 history of them, from the records in the 
 tower, the rolls, and other depositories of 
 public papers ; which being all fairly 
 transcribed, filled three large volumes. 
 This work, containing anecdotes of a 
 great variety of original characters, ex- 
 erting themselves on very important oc- 
 casions, ' is still, I have heard, (writes 
 Gilpin in his Tour to the Lakes,) among 
 the family records at Appleby Cas- 
 tle.' " 
 
 She caused an entry to be made, under 
 her own inspection, of the transactions 
 of every day, in a large folio volume 
 which she carried with her from one 
 castle to another when she travelled. It 
 is said that the Earl of Thanet destroy- 
 ed it, as it contained many severe re- 
 marks on persons of those times which 
 he thought might offend their families. 
 Her secretary, Mr. Sedgwick, wrote a 
 life of himself, in which he inserted some 
 circumstances relating to his lady, and 
 they have by his means been preserv- 
 ed. 
 
 She was fond of saying that her fami- 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 297 
 
 ly had furnished that diocese (of Car- 
 lisle) with a bishop, Thomas Vipont, 
 who was appointed to that office in TJ55. 
 Her recollection of courts went back to 
 that of Queen Elizabeth, whose favour 
 towards her in her youth she desired to 
 have recorded, and she had in her room, 
 with the portraits of her daughters and 
 their husbands, that of Anne, Queen to 
 James I., who had been her friend. 
 After the Restoration, a lady of her 
 neighbourhood conversed with her upon 
 their mutual joy at the king's return, 
 and the. splendour which had attended 
 his entrance to Whitehall, and wished 
 that she could go once more to London, 
 and feed her eyes with the sight of such 
 happy objects, before she came back to 
 her retirement : but she answered sud- 
 denly, *« If I should go to those places 
 now so full of gallantry and glory, I 
 ought to do as they do to ill-sighted or 
 unruly horses, have spectacles (or blink- 
 ers) put before mine eyes, lest I should 
 see or censure what I cannot competent- 
 ly judge of; be offended myself, or give 
 offence to others." 
 
 Of her conversation, Bishop Rainbow- 
 says that it " was indeed meek, affable, 
 and gentle ; her words, according to the 
 circumstances of persons in her presence, 
 pleasant or grave, always seasoned with 
 salt; savoury, but not bitter. I had 
 the honour to be often admitted to her 
 discourse, but never heard nor have been 
 told by others, that she was invective or 
 i 5 
 
298 amtm curroRi*. 
 
 censorious, or did use to speak ill or 
 censoriously of persons or actions, but 
 she was especially cautions in censuring 
 public persons or actions in matters of 
 state. I was present when she was told 
 of the certainty of war with the Dutch,, 
 and of the great preparation on all 
 hands ; on which subject she only said,. 
 If their sins he greater than ours, they, 
 would have the worst. 
 
 Her constancy of purpose and regu- 
 larity extended to lesser as well as great- 
 er matters. ** She used, as she said, to- 
 *chew the cud,' ruminating of her next 
 day's business, in her night-wakings ' r 
 and when once she had weighed the cir- 
 cumstances and resolved, she did not 
 like to have any after considerations, or 
 $o be moved by them." 
 
 " I might enlarge," he continues, "by 
 particular instances of her patience in> 
 bearing and even taking up submissive- 
 ly the crosses which she met withal, as 
 it cannot be imagined but one who lived 
 so long in a perverse and crooked gene- 
 ration, must meet with many crosses in> 
 several kinds, both in regard of public 
 revolutions and private cross accidents; 
 indeed she saw and felt great varieties 
 and mixture of better and worse in. 
 both. She spun out almost the measure 
 of one whole age, and the age wherein- 
 she lived might give her experience of 
 ihe greatest misery, and also felicity, in> 
 the late revolutions in these three na- 
 tions that any one age had ever seea~ 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 299 
 
 Amongst the other trials of this kind, I 
 was able to observe one great work of 
 patience wrought out by this pious lady. 
 
 " When the astonishing news was 
 brought her, about three years since, 
 from the Isle of Guernsey, of the strange 
 and disastrous death of one of her clear 
 grandchildren, with a lady of great piety 
 and honour, and divers others, by a ter- 
 rible blast of gunpowder, the relation of 
 which amazed the court and all that 
 heard of it : although she first received 
 the news with a sorrow suppressed by a 
 silence and wonder, yet after, when she 
 heard that the noble lord, her grandson, 
 Lord Hatton, who had also been blown 
 up out of his chamber, (and by a won- 
 derful providence being thrown upon a 
 high wall,) that he and two of her grand- 
 children escaped without any harm, she 
 discovered a patient submission to the 
 will of God in many Christian expres- 
 sions, which soon after I did receive 
 from herself; and several times after, 
 when she was pleased to renew the 
 remembrance of it, with much ad- 
 miration and acknowledgment of the 
 secret ways of God's judgment and mer- 
 cies, on which she could enlarge with 
 many heavenly expressions." 
 
 kl She had six castles, in each of which 
 she used to reside at prefixed times, 
 keeping them each in repair, and dis- 
 pensing her charity and hospitality. 
 Her journeys were often made in the 
 winter, and over uncouth and untrodden 
 i 6 
 
300 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 mountain ways, when she assembled 
 the labourers to act as pioneers, and re- 
 warded them liberally for their work. 
 
 " About three years before her death, 
 she had appointed to move from Apple- 
 by to Brougham Castle, in January. 
 The day being very cold, a frost and 
 misty, yet much company coming (as 
 they usually did) to attend her removal : 
 she would needs hold her resolution, and 
 in her passage out of her house, she di- 
 verted into the chapel, (as at such times 
 she commonly did,) and there, at or near 
 a window, sent up her private prayers 
 and ejaculations, when immediately she 
 fell into a swoon, and could not be re- 
 covered until she had been laid for some 
 time upon a bed, near a great fire. The 
 gentlemen and neighbours who came to 
 attend her, used much persuasion that 
 she would return to her chamber, and 
 not travel on so sharp and cold a day ; 
 but she having before fixed on that day, 
 and so much company being come pur- 
 posely to wait on her, she would go ; 
 and although as soon as she came to her 
 horse litter, she swooned again, and was 
 carried into a chamber as before, yet as 
 soon as that tit was over, she went ; and 
 was no sooner come to her journey's end, 
 (nine miles,) but a swooning seized on 
 her again ; from which being soon re- 
 covered, when some of her servants and 
 others represented to her, with repining, 
 her undertaking such a journey, foretold 
 by divers to be so extremely hazardous 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 301 
 
 to her life, she replied, ' She knew she 
 must die, and it was the same thing to 
 her to die in her litter as in her bed. ' " 
 
 She had not a chaplain living in her 
 family, but at each of her six houses 
 the minister of the parish was accustom- 
 ed to officiate in her family. When age 
 had deprived her in some measure of the 
 use of her limbs and hearing, she used 
 her chamber as an oratory, there otter- 
 ing up her private devotions. She either 
 read the psalms of the day to herself, or 
 when hindered by ill health, they were 
 read to her by her attendants, and she 
 took especial delight in the Psalter. 
 She also usually heard a large portion of 
 Scripture read every day, as much as 
 one of the Gospels in the course of the 
 week. She traced her attachment for 
 the Church and its ordinances to the 
 early training of her mother, and perse- 
 vered in it to the end of her life. 
 
 " As her death drew near, she expos- 
 tulated with one of her nearest attend- 
 ants, for being as were the others who 
 waited on her so passionately concerned 
 and busy about her, and wished them 
 not to take so much pains for her who 
 deserved less. Asking also why any, 
 herself especially, should at any time be 
 angry ? why any of those outward things 
 should trouble her, who deserved so lit- 
 tle, and had beec blessed with so much ? 
 By which it might appear that she had 
 brought into subjection all great thoughts, 
 she had cast down imaginations and 
 i 7 
 
302 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 every high thing, bringing into captivity 
 every high thought, and submitting the 
 world and her soul to the obedience of 
 Christ ; her passions were mortified and 
 dead before her : so that for three or 
 four days of her last sickness, (for she 
 endured no more,) she lay as if she en- 
 dured nothing. She called for her 
 Psalms, which she could not now, as 
 she usually had done, read herself, (the 
 greatest symptom of her extremity,) 
 and caused them to be read unto her. 
 But that cordial (in which she had al- 
 ways taken particular delight) kept, in 
 Rom. viii., and in her heart ; this her 
 memory held to the last, this she soon 
 repeated : no doubt to secure her soul 
 against all fear of condemnation, being 
 now wholly Christ's, having served Him 
 in the spirit of her mind, and not loved 
 to walk after the flesh, having (as often 
 as she affectionately pronounced the 
 words of this chapter) called in the tes- 
 timony of the Spirit to bear her witness, 
 that she desired to be delivered from 
 this bondage of corruption, into the glo- 
 rious liberty of the children of God ; and 
 so to strengthen her faith and hope by 
 other comfortable arguments, contained 
 in the rest of that chapter, being the 
 last words of continuance which this 
 dying lady spoke." 
 
 The rest of the time she lay quiet, as 
 if ruminating, digesting and speaking 
 inwardly to her soul what she had ut- 
 tered in broken words, and so breathed 
 
ANNE CLIFFORD. 303 
 
 her last without disturbance, on March 
 22d, 1675-6, in the 87th year of her age. 
 " There might indeed," to conclude 
 with the following summary, " seem in 
 the opinion of some, many paradoxes 
 and contradictions in her life. She lived 
 and conversed outwardly with the world, 
 as easily as might be, yet her guise in- 
 ward and reflexed, was quite as one of 
 another world. Of an humour pleasing 
 to all, yet like to none : her dress not 
 disliked by any, yet imitated by none. 
 Those who fed by her, full, if with her, 
 starved ; to eat by the measures she 
 took to herself. She was absolute mis- 
 tress of herself, her resolutions, actions, 
 and time ; and yet allowed a time for 
 every purpose, for all addresses, for any 
 persons. None had access but by leave, 
 when she called ; but none were reject- 
 ed ; none must stay longer than she 
 would ; yet none departed unsatisfied. 
 Like him at the stern, she seemed to do 
 little or nothing, but indeed turned and 
 steered the whole course of her affairs. 
 She seemed (2 Cor. vi. 10) as poor, yet 
 making many rich ; as having nothing, 
 yet possessing all things. She had 
 many occasions of sorrow, but appeared 
 as if she sorrowed not, and again, rejoiced 
 as if she rejoiced not. She had no visi- 
 ble transports, she did use the world as 
 not using, at least as not abusing of iU 
 None disliked what she did or was, be- 
 cause she was like herself in all things, 
 sibi constans, semper eadem." 
 i 8 
 
304 ANNE CLIFFORD. 
 
 Those who saw her in her old age, 
 described her as upright, active, and 
 commanding in her appearance , and she 
 enjoyed remarkably strong health through 
 life. 
 
 In Gilpin's time, she was still re- 
 membered in the North with much ven- 
 eration. Her daughter Margaret, the 
 wife of Lord Thanet, survived her, and 
 became her heir. The Countess of 
 Pembroke had seen many of her grand- 
 children and great grandchildren ; and 
 Lady Thanet was succeeded in her es- 
 tates by three sons, the second of whom 
 married his cousin Alathea, daughter to 
 Isabella, Countess of Northampton, and 
 so reunited all the possessions which had 
 descended from Lady Pembroke to her 
 two daughters. Dying without children, 
 he was succeeded by Thomas, Earl of 
 Thanet, who is said to have lived on his 
 estates, with such charity and liberality 
 as made him worthy to be heir to the 
 Countess of Pembroke. " A nobleman,'* 
 it is said, "of the old school, a true son 
 of the Church of England, virtuous, de- 
 vout, and charitable." 
 
 Besides those ladies of whom some 
 account has here been given, there are 
 others less fully known, of whom only 
 short records are preserved, or whose 
 funeral sermons give but few circum- 
 stances of their lives. Several of these 
 
SIBYI/LA EGERTON. 305 
 
 -are mentioned in Wilford's Memorials, 
 and cannot be passed over without notice 
 among such as kept their faith in this 
 time of trouble. 
 
 SIBYLLA EGERTON. 
 
 Sibylla Egerton was daughter to 
 Sir Rowland Egerton, of Farthinghoe, 
 an Northamptonshire, and was first mar- 
 ried to Edward Bellot, Esq., after whose 
 death she married Sir Edmund Ander- 
 son, first Baronet of Broughton and Lea. 
 Her funeral sermon was preached by 
 .Edward Boteler, a relation of Sir Ed- 
 mund's first wife, and rector of Wintring- 
 3iam. After dwelling on her several 
 'Christian graces, he mentions especially 
 lier fidelity to her king and Church. 
 
 " To God's lieutenant, her and our 
 sovereign Charles II., she was invincibly 
 faithful, following him through the vi- 
 cissitudes of his fortunes with constan- 
 cy and resolution." — " To God's Church 
 «he was rarely devoted, praying often 
 ■and earnestly for the peace of Jeru- 
 salem. It was her constant practice, 
 during our late confusions in worship, 
 to repair to places where Common 
 Prayer and administration of the Sacra- 
 ments might be had, according to the use 
 of the Church of England." 
 
 *' Her private devotions were due ami 
 
 ■constant; and for her furtherance in this 
 
 duty she kept catalogues of her sins, 
 
 that none might escape her confession 
 
 i 3 
 
306 SIBYLLA EGEHTON - . 
 
 when she came to prostrate her son) 
 before the all-seeing Eye. I have seen 
 some papers under her own hand, where- 
 in she had written what sins she desired 
 might be blotted out, what mercies were 
 seasonable to beg for herself, her rela- 
 tions, the Church, the kingdom ; and 
 herein she deaft faithfully, and would 
 not wink at small faults in herself. 12 
 was her care, even in her sickness, that 
 prayers among her servants might not 
 be laid aside, and in her health not over- 
 employing them; she would often say it 
 was her desire that her servants might 
 have leisure to serve God as well as her- 
 self.'* 
 
 She outlived SirEdmund, whose death 
 she deeply lamented. It does not appear 
 that she left any children of her own, 
 but she had the care of a mother for his 
 children by his former marriage. In 
 1661, one of her relations fell sick of the 
 smallpox, and knowing how fatal that 
 disease had been in her family, she made 
 her will, disposed of her estate, and had 
 then no thought hut to prepare for 
 another world. The disorder, however, 
 that proved fatal to her, was a quartan 
 ague, which, after several attacks, con- 
 vinced her that she was near her end. 
 14 She received the Sacrament of the 
 Lord's Supper some few days before she 
 died, and that with so mueh fervency 
 and holy appetite, so eating the flesh of 
 the Son of Man, and so drinking His 
 blood, as gave good evidence she haila 
 
LADY SOPHIA CHAWORTH. 307 
 
 eternal life, and that He will raise her 
 up at the last day. The day before she 
 died," proceeds Mr. Boteler, " I came 
 to visit her, and found the time of 
 her departure was at hand. She then 
 desired me to pray with her, and absolve 
 her, according to the use of the Church 
 of England, which I accordingly did, to 
 her no little comfort. When I had read 
 the Versicle appointed in the Visitations 
 of the Sick, 'O Lord, save Thy servant,' 
 and some present rehearsed the Anti- 
 phon, 'which putteth her trust in Thee,' 
 she started up with much earnestness, 
 hands, and eyes, and heart, and all, lift 
 up, and added, ' Ay, and my whole con- 
 fidence, Lord.' " She died in October, 
 1661, and was buried in the church of 
 Broughton in Lincolnshire. 
 
 LADY SOPHIA CHAWORTH. 
 
 In the character given by Lloyd, of 
 Montague Bertie, Earl of Lindsay, after 
 his sufferings in the king's service have 
 been told, and his endeavours to preserve 
 his sovereign's life, the following passage 
 occurs : 
 
 44 How piously did he, and his many 
 pious relations that made his place a 
 cloister, resent the parricide and the 
 consequents of it, giving up themselves 
 to the extraordinary devotions, in the de- 
 spised and afflicted way of the Church 
 of England, communicating wherever 
 they were only with the members of that 
 
3G8 MABELLA FOTHKRBY. 
 
 Church ; to the honour whereof, and of 
 baffled piety, and virtue itself, I cannot 
 conceal, though I offend unpanlonably 
 against her modesty, when I mention a 
 sister of his, Lady Sophia, wife to Sir 
 Robert Chaworth, that composeth 
 her soul more carefully by God's word, 
 than others do their face by their glass- 
 es; spends that time in praying, (keep- 
 ing inviolably all the primitive hours of 
 devotion,) that is thrown away too com- 
 monly in dressing, gaming, and compli- 
 menting ; and bestows her thoughtful and 
 serious life between the strictest fasting, 
 (but one sparing meal in thirty-six 
 hours — not so much upon extraordinary 
 occasions,) the most liberal alms both to 
 the sick and to the needy, bountiful both 
 in her skill and in her charity, indefati- 
 gable in reading serious discourses, and 
 constant prayers." 
 
 MABELLA FOTHERBY. 
 
 Mabella Fotherby was daughter 
 to the Dean of Canterbury, and wife to 
 Sir John Finch, Baron of Ford with, and 
 Keeper of the Great Seal in King Charles 
 the First's reign. She accompanied him 
 when he went into banishment, shared 
 cheerfully his adversities, solicited his 
 business in England during the Rebel- 
 lion, and attended him with unwearied 
 care during his long sicknesses. " which 
 made him hard to please ;" and upon his 
 death, about 1660, she gave him an hon- 
 
MABELLA FOTHERBT. 309 
 
 ourable burial and monument in St. 
 Martin's Church, at Canterbury. She 
 lived about nine years a widow, never 
 missing the Holy Days, Lent Sermons, 
 or Monthly Communions, in the cathe- 
 dral, nor any other occasions of divine 
 service, either there or at her parish 
 church of St. Martin's. fc * Ever after 
 the martyrdom of King Charles, which 
 was on a Tuesday, she made that day, 
 every week, her fasting day, and kept it 
 with great devotion and mortification ; 
 labouring for her part to avert the judg- 
 ments which might threaten the land for 
 that grievous crime. And a Tuesday 
 was chosen for her own funeral." When 
 her mortal sickness came on, which it 
 did suddenly, the intervals between her 
 fits of apoplexy allowed her time for re- 
 doubling the strength of her religious 
 purposes. " Being a person of few 
 words, which she placed well, she hus- 
 banded those intervals to express her 
 disposition to heaven, her longing for 
 God, her desire to depart, and to be with 
 Christ.*' 
 
 " As for the disposing of her es- 
 tate," says Mr. Du Moulin, who visited 
 her, " when I exhorted her to it, she 
 said that work was done. I cannot with- 
 out joy and comfort remember her joy 
 and comfort, expressed with eyes and 
 arms lift up to heaven, showing by words 
 and gestures that she was full of the life 
 and peace of God. And in this blessed 
 disposition departed the mother of hey 
 
310 ALICE DUTCHESS DUDLEY. 
 
 kindred, the nurse of the poor, the rare 
 example of piety, wisdom, and nobleness, 
 and the honour of our cathedral." She 
 was buried, like her husband, in St. 
 Martin's Church, Canterbury, on the 
 fourteenth of September, 1669. 
 
 ALICE DUTCHESS DUDLEY. 
 
 In the ancient parish church of Stone- 
 leigh, in Warwickshire, among many 
 monuments to the loyal family of the 
 Leighs, is one to the memory of Alice 
 Dutchess Dudley, and her daughter. 
 They are represented in a recumbent 
 posture, beneath a canopy with arms on 
 the facings. This Alice was of a branch 
 of the Leigh family, settled at Stone- 
 leigh, in a large mansion on the banks 
 of the Avon. She was granddaughter to 
 Alice, wife of Sir Thomas Leigh, who 
 lived there to a great age, having seen 
 her children's children to the fourth 
 generation, and founded there an hospi- 
 tal for five men and five women, all of 
 them to be unmarried persons, and to be 
 nominated after her death- by her son, 
 Sir Thomas Leigh, (the father of Alice 
 Dudley,) and his heirs for ever. 
 
 Sir Thomas, nephew to Alice Dudley, 
 received Charles I. at Stoneleigh, in 
 1642, when the king could not obtain 
 admittance at Coventry, and was on that 
 occasion created a baron, whilst his son 
 received the honour of knighthood. Two 
 years afterwards, the king gave to Alice 
 
ALICE DUTCHESS DUDLEY. 311 
 
 Lady Dudley the title of a Dutchess for 
 her life ; her husband, Sir Robert, was 
 son to the celebrated Earl of Leicester, 
 by his marriage with Lady Douglas 
 Howard, widow of Lord Sheffield ; but 
 as the Earl afterwards refused to ac- 
 knowledge the marriage, his son obtained 
 permission to travel, and never returned 
 to England. He is said to have been a 
 man of great attainments, and was much 
 favoured by the Duke of Tuscany, and 
 also by the Emperor Ferdinand XL, who 
 gave him the title of a duke. 
 
 His lady remained in England with 
 her five daughters, of whom only two 
 are mentioned as living at the time of the 
 king's grant ; and the services of their 
 husbands, Sir Richard Levison, and 
 Robert Holbourne, are there acknow- 
 ledged. She lived to the age of ninety, 
 surviving the Restoration nine years. 
 Her funeral sermon was preached in 
 1669, by Dr. Robert Boreman, rector of 
 St. Giles, in London, to which church 
 and parish she had been a great bene- 
 factor. 
 
 He speaks in high terms of her piety, 
 her charity, and other excellencies. She 
 was subjected, he says, to the reproach 
 of being a Papist, because she was loyal 
 to her sovereign, and abounded in good 
 works. 
 
 Her strong memory became in her old 
 age a storehouse of knowledge, acquired 
 during her long life; and, as Dr. Bore- 
 man describes her, she was a living 
 
312 ALICE DUTCHESS DUDLEY. 
 
 chronicle of things relating to his parish. 
 After preparing for death, both during 
 the time of her last illness and before it, 
 she asked for the last time for that heav- 
 enly food which she desired as the pro- 
 vision of her journey, kneeling, though 
 hardly having strength to stand, and re- 
 ceiving it with the most devout behaviour 
 and expressions. A few days after, her 
 wish to depart was granted ; and saying, 
 " Lord, receive my spirit," she fell 
 asleep. 
 
 During her life-time she assisted in 
 repairing the church of St. Giles's in the 
 Fields, as recorded in the register of 
 that church, by giving large sums of 
 money towards its restoration, hangings 
 of taffety bordered with fringe for the 
 upper end of the chancel, rich velvet 
 and cloths for the altar, and cambric and 
 damask cloths for administration of the 
 communion, with other decorations, com- 
 munion plate, an organ, bells, &c. All 
 these, except the communion plate and 
 the great bell, were afterwards demolish- 
 ed and sold, as being counted supersti- 
 tious and popish, under pretence of re- 
 lieving the poor out of the money re- 
 ceived from them. 
 
 She augmented the vicarage of Stone- 
 leigh and several others, and gave costly 
 communion plate to their churches. She 
 gave a fair house and garden as a par- 
 sonage to the church of St. Giles's, and 
 allowed a yearly stipend to tbe sexton 
 of the church to toll the great bell when 
 
LADY GRACE GRENVILLE. 313 
 
 prisoners were passing by to execution, 
 and after they were executed. 
 
 She gave great sums for repairing the 
 Cathedral Church at Lichfield, and for 
 rebuilding St. Sepulchre's in London. 
 
 At her death she left bequests for re- 
 deeming Christian captives from the in- 
 fidels, for a hospital in St. Giles's, and 
 for apprenticing poor children of the 
 parish, for distribution of money at her 
 funeral to ninety widows, (according to 
 the years of her life,) for a gown and 
 white kerchief to attend her funeral, and 
 a dinner to each afterwards. Five 
 pounds to be given to every place where 
 her body should rest between London 
 and Stoneleigh, and sixpence to be given 
 to every person who should meet her 
 corpse on the road. 
 
 Her daughter Frances, who married 
 Sir Gilbert Kniveton, has a monument in 
 St. Giles's Church. Lady Catherine 
 Levison alone survived her mother. 
 
 LADY GRACE GRENVILLE. 
 
 Some letters are preserved, written by 
 Sir BevilGrenville to his wife, of whom 
 apparently there is no other record, but 
 who must excite an interest as the wife 
 of that, heroic rovalist, addressed by him 
 as " his best friend, the Lady Grace 
 Grenville." The date of the first of 
 these is London, May 18th, 1626; that 
 of the second a few days later ; and they 
 are said to be as fresh* and clean in their 
 
314 LADY GRACE GRENVILLE. 
 
 appearance as if but lately written. 
 They concern domestic matters, his care 
 of his wife's health, his choice of a name 
 for their expected child, to be called, if a 
 boy, John ; or if a girl, Grace. His de- 
 sire to return in time for the christening, 
 messages to her relations and his, and 
 the choice to be made of sponsors, with 
 some account of the commission his wife 
 had given him to buy sweetmeats. These 
 trifling circumstances excite an interest 
 of the same kind as that raised by Lord 
 Sunderland's letters to his wife, as show- 
 ing how much tenderness could accom- 
 pany loyal self-devotion. ' k I go,*' said 
 Sir Bevil, when he raised troops for the 
 king, " with joy and comfort to venture 
 my life in as good a cause, and in as 
 good company, as ever Englishman did ; 
 and I do take God to witness, if I were to 
 choose a death, it would be no other than 
 this." A later letter to his wife is dated 
 from Bodmin, October 12th, 1642, in 
 which he writes to her of military mat- 
 ters, signing himself as before, ** Your 
 own B. Grenville." This letter, in con- 
 trast to the former, has a soiled and worn 
 appearance, as if it had not reached its 
 destination without some difficulty and 
 danger. 
 
 Prince, in his Worthies of Devon, 
 says, that Sir BeviFs wife was a daugh- 
 ter of Sir George Smith, of Exeter. 
 Their eldest son, John, at fifteen years 
 of age, commanded his fathers regiment 
 in the west, anef was wounded at the 
 
1ADT GRACE GRENVILLE. 315 
 
 second battle of Newbury. Sir Bevil 
 having been killed at the celebrated bat- 
 tle of Lansdovvne, in 1643, his son was, 
 in 1661, created Lord Grenville of Kil- 
 hampton, Viscount Lansdowne, and Earl 
 of Bath. A younger son of Sir Bevil, 
 Dennis Grenville, entered into holy or- 
 ders, married a daughter of Bishop Co- 
 sin, and was ejected as a nonjuror from 
 the Deanery of Durham. Bridget, a 
 daughter of Sir Bevil, married Sir 
 Thomas Higgons. The name of Grace 
 was revived by the first Earl of Bath, 
 who named his daughter after his moth- 
 er ; this Lady Grace Grenville was mar- 
 ried in her childhood to the grandson of 
 Sir George Carteret, a faithful servant 
 of Charles II., the bridegroom being 
 only eight years old. She was left a 
 widow whilst still in her bloom, with 
 three sons and a daughter, and remained 
 unmarried, greatly honoured and re- 
 spected by her acquaintance. King 
 George the First created her Viscount- 
 ess Carteret, and Countess Grenville, in 
 consideration of the great services of her 
 father, who was trusted by Charles the 
 Second, and General Monk, in the re- 
 storation of Monarchy and Episcopacy. 
 By the death of her nephew, the Earl 
 of Bath, in 1711, she became one of the 
 two co-heirs to her father, and her de- 
 scendants inherited a right to his arms ; 
 but the title became extinct, and passed 
 afterwards into other families. Her son 
 succeeded her in the titles of CartereS 
 
516 MART PERRY. 
 
 and Granville. The name of Grenville 
 seems to have been spelt in many differ- 
 ent ways, and that of Granville to have 
 been used indifferently with it. 
 
 MARY PERRY. 
 
 Mart Perrt was the fourth daughter 
 of an alderman of London, and was edu- 
 cated under the care of Lord Newburgh, 
 who married her mother after her father's 
 death. *' Before she was fifteen she had 
 gained the reputation, with all who knew 
 her, of being grave and thoughtful, and 
 for that reason fit to undertake the cares 
 of a family ;" accordingly she was mar- 
 ried about this age to Henry Noel, the 
 second son of Viscount Campden. The 
 family was one distinguished for its loy- 
 alty, both the father and brother of Hen- 
 ry Noel being zealously engaged on the 
 king's side, and great sufferers in his 
 cause. Very soon after her marriage, 
 Luffenham House, in which she lived 
 with her husband, was besieged by the 
 enemy, when seeing him discouraged by 
 the weakness of his ungarrisoned house, 
 and anxious about her safety, she told 
 him, "that rather than he should wound 
 his conscience, or blemish his honour, or 
 bring his loyalty under the least suspi- 
 cion, she could be content to see the 
 house fall upon their heads, and together 
 with him be buried in its ruins." 
 
 Notwithstanding this noble spirit in 
 its mistress, Luffenham House was 
 
MART PERRY. 317 
 
 forced to surrender, and troubles then 
 came rapidly upon her ; the house was 
 plundered, her husband was imprisoned, 
 she herself fell sick of the smallpox, and 
 a child was prematurely born during her 
 illness, soon after which her husband 
 died of the same disorder, in the 35th 
 year of his age. "Thus in the course 
 of one year she was maid, wife, widow, 
 a mother, and childless." 
 
 Three years after she married again, 
 into another brave and loyal family, that 
 of the Fermors, one of whom died at 
 nineteen, in battle for the king ; and her 
 husband, Sir William, sacrificed for him 
 great part of his estates, whilst he served 
 him with his own person in the field. 
 He lived to see the Restoration, and died 
 in the year following. He left five sons 
 and two daughters to her care, and 
 another daughter was born after his 
 death. She survived him ten years, 
 during which time she always celebrated 
 the anniversary of his death, in memory 
 of the love and happiness in which they 
 had lived together. " She could never 
 think of his person and love without a 
 mixture of joy and grief, nor mention his 
 name without a remarkable transport. 
 If she were partial in her affections to 
 any one of her children above the rest, 
 it was for his sake that she was so ; re- 
 specting him with a peculiar kindness, 
 who was the darling of his heart, and 
 heir to a double blessing." 
 
 Of her eight children, six survived 
 
318 MARY PERRY. 
 
 her ; her eldest son was afterwards made 
 Lord Lempster, and his son became 
 Earl of Pomfret. Her children were all 
 very young at the time of Sir William's 
 death, and she devoted herself to the 
 care of them, declining all proposals for 
 a third marriage. She spent her widow- 
 hood atEaston Neston, in Northampton- 
 shire, an estate which had for many 
 years belonged to the family of the Fer- 
 mors, and where she had herself resided 
 during great part of her married life, 
 living there in all nearly twenty years. 
 
 She was so good a mistress that her 
 servants remained with her some seven, 
 some ten, some twenty years, during 
 which their wages were paid to them to 
 a day. " and when any went away to be 
 married, (for they seldom parted but upon 
 that account,) she constantly added some- 
 thing to set them forth into the world ; 
 yea, more, if after this they lived within 
 her reach, they never failed of her coun- 
 tenance and kindness ; so mindful was 
 she of them, even to the meanest, that 
 she left legacies to them all before she 
 died." 
 
 Though London was the place of her 
 birth, she would not live there to the 
 neglect of her tenants in the country, 
 but kept up a constant hospitality and 
 charity, relieving the needy, clothing 
 widows, educating the children of the 
 poor, who lived about her house till they 
 were old enough for service or appren- 
 ticeships, and furnishing the sick with 
 
LADY MARY HASTINGS. 319 
 
 food from her kitchen as freely as if it 
 had been their own. She was so impa- 
 tient of being in debt, that she never 
 left the country, though but for a month, 
 without paying off all scores before her 
 departure. 
 
 She was ever faithful to the Church 
 of England ; and even whilst it was un- 
 der persecution, she constantly observed 
 its services, worshipping God twice a 
 day in her family, and besides that, call- 
 ing upon him in her closet at evening 
 and morning and at noon-day, according 
 to David's resolution. 
 
 She died of a fever when she was 
 forty-three years of age, having first 
 14 set her house in order, by a timely 
 disposal of her estate ; and her soul in 
 order, by continual devotions, and a re- 
 ceiving of the sacrament." She died in 
 London, July, 1G70, and was buried at 
 Easton Neston. 
 
 LADY MARY HASTINGS. 
 
 Lady Mary Hastings was the fifth 
 daughter of Ferdinand, Earl of Hunting- 
 don, of whom Clarendon records that 
 he fled from the battle of Edgehill, 
 where he fought on the rebel side whilst 
 his younger brother Henry headed a 
 troop of horse for the king. Henry 
 Hastings also defended his father's house 
 at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, and was after- 
 wards made general of the royal forces 
 in those parts. Lord Hastings, the eld- 
 
320 LADY MARY HASTINGS. 
 
 est brother of Lady Mary, died young 
 and much lamented. Of her sisters, 
 one married Sir James Langham, and is 
 recorded in her funeral sermon as a 
 woman of much piety and goodness. 
 The same testimony is given to their 
 mother, the daughter of Sir John Davies, 
 Chief Justice of the King's Bench in 
 Ireland, and author of two remarkable 
 works, a ' Poem on the Immortality of 
 the Soul,' and ' Historical Relations on 
 Ireland.' She gave her daughters a 
 careful and religious education, but it 
 does not appear whether from her, Lady 
 Mary derived those principles of heart- 
 felt loyalty to the Church, which gov- 
 erned the whole of her life. 
 
 Mr. Willes says of her in her funeral 
 sermon, that " having upon principles of 
 judgment and conviction fully satisfied 
 herself, she conscientiously and devoutly 
 adhered to the doctrine, worship, and 
 discipline of the Church of England. 
 And though (like Mary in the Gospel) 
 she had chosen the better part, making 
 religion her great business and employ- 
 ment, yet she was sensibly offended 
 when she found it taken notice of, un- 
 less it were by imitation. Not that she 
 was ashamed of being thought religious, 
 but she dreaded the hypocrisy of a de- 
 signed publication that she was so." 
 
 She was composed and thoughtful in 
 her childhood, yet capable of entertain- 
 ing herself and others with innocent in- 
 genuities, and sprightliness of conversa- 
 
LADY MARY HASTINGS. 321 
 
 tion. Her understanding was quick, 
 and she had a high sense of honour, 
 which showed itself, not in any inso- 
 lence or haughtiness, but in a regard for 
 all things that were great and noble. 
 
 From her early youth she preferred a 
 holy, pure, and even angelical life, to 
 any gaudy vanities of the world. " To 
 know God and to be like Him, was her 
 first great endeavour. Her devotions 
 were performed at least three times a 
 day, for which she used the most pri- 
 vate concealments, not only to avoid 
 disturbance, but (what she more shun- 
 ned) discovery. And to assist, enlarge, 
 and enforce her devotions, she added to 
 them frequent fasts. Upon these occa- 
 sions she would seem to eat and to take 
 her usual repast, that she might escape 
 observation ; nor would any thing more 
 discompose her, than an inquiry into her 
 abstinence." 
 
 " To nourish this course of devotion, 
 she daily drew succours from the Holy 
 Scriptures, beginning and ending every 
 day with some portion of them, and this 
 not as a task or custom, but as a pecu- 
 liar delight, which appeared when during 
 her early years she resided at Derby, 
 and the bell at four in the morning, even 
 in the winter season, was the certain 
 summons to her devotions. In her med- 
 itations on the word of God, she drew 
 assistance not only from public sermons, 
 but from the best and soundest exposi- 
 tors that our Church afforded." 
 
322 LADY MART HASTINGS. 
 
 She was married to William Joliffe, 
 of Caverswell Castle, in Staffordshire, 
 to whom she proved as dutiful a wife as 
 she had been a dutiful daughter to her 
 parents ; she was observant of his in- 
 terests and his satisfaction in all things, 
 from the least to the greatest, and he 
 had in her all joy and delight. 
 
 She was a warm and faithful friend, 
 ready to return affection and to forgive 
 injuries; her presence repelled approach- 
 es to vice and immorality ; but if occa- 
 sion required it, she could reprove them 
 by a blush, or a frown, or if it seemed 
 expedient, by a more direct confutation. 
 Her disposition was cheerful and com- 
 posed, entirely free from moroseness or 
 censoriousness. " She attended the 
 church upon all occasions, and her mind 
 was so much fixed upon the offices of 
 religion, that whenever she could es- 
 cape from business or company, she 
 took up some work of devotion, and re- 
 turned to those spiritual fruitions, with 
 new appetites and impatient desires. 
 But the chief of all her joys was the 
 blessed sacrament, where she found the 
 most satisfying refreshments ; she laid 
 hold of every opportunity to partake of 
 that holy mystery ; and during her resi- 
 dence in London she communicated 
 every month. She prepared herself 
 with such acts of devotion and religious 
 austerity as if it had been the last act 
 of her life, and that she were to pass 
 from the altar to the tribunal, from the 
 
LADY MAKT HASTINGS. 323 
 
 table of our Lord to his judgment-seat." 
 In the midst of her preparations for 
 the communion, she was seized with 
 that disease which soon after became 
 mortal to her, and thenceforth dismissing 
 all worldly cares, she examined her past 
 life with th« strictest scrutiny. " What 
 passed between God and her own soul 
 we do not pretend to know, but she dis- 
 covered a trouble, not without bemoan- 
 ing herself, that she had not improved 
 her time as she ought to have done. 
 One thing more seemed to touch her 
 thoughts, which was that she had set 
 her heart too much upon her little child, 
 so jealous was she lest her natural affec- 
 tion to an only child should cause any 
 abatement of her love to God." 
 
 Her mind was clear throughout her 
 sickness, and rested in Christian confi- 
 dence on the merits and intercession of 
 her dear Lord and Saviour. She used 
 her perfect sense and memory to the 
 last in devout prayers, meditations and 
 discourses, with all the suitable employ- 
 ments of a departing soul. 
 
 " At last, Without agonies, or any 
 great pains, without frightful accident, 
 without fears and horrors, without the 
 disturbance of temptations ; but in a 
 sweet calm of conscience, in steadfast 
 faith, and perfect charity, in joyful ex- 
 pectation of eternal life, she quietly gave 
 up her soul into the hands of her most 
 Merciful Redeemer." She died in 1698, 
 and was buried at Ashby-de-la-Zouch. 
 
324 
 
 DOROTHY LADY PAKINGTON. 
 
 The name of Dorothy Lady Pak- 
 
 Ington cannot here be omitted, though 
 very few circumstances seem to be 
 known relating to her. She was the 
 daughter of Thomas Lord Coventry, 
 Lord Keeper of the great seal, and was 
 born either in the city or suburbs of 
 London, about the middle of the reign of 
 King James I. Her education was con- 
 ducted with great care, and she made 
 good progress in her studies. Dr. 
 Hickes, who was intimate with her fam- 
 ily, described her as having an excellent 
 judgment, and a talent for conversation 
 and for writing. " Hammond, Morley, 
 Fell, and Thomas," he proceeds, "those 
 eminently learned men, averred she was 
 as great an adept in the sacred Scrip- 
 tures as themselves were, and as well 
 versed in divinity" and in practical mo- 
 rality. She was also well acquainted 
 with the antiquities of her own country. 
 *« Nor is this much to be wondered at, 
 since in her youth she had the learned 
 Sir Norton Knatchbull for her tutor ; 
 and after she was married, the famous 
 Hammond, and others his contempora- 
 ries, very celebrated men, for her com- 
 panions and instructors." 
 
 After her marriage to Sir John Pak- 
 ington of Westwood, his house became 
 the resort of these learned and pious 
 men, who found in it a refuge during the 
 times of trouble. Dr. Hammond lived 
 
DOROTHY LADY PAKINGTON. 325 
 
 several years in their family, and was 
 buried in their burial place at Hampton 
 Lovett, in a chapel built by an ancestor 
 of the Pakington family. One anecdote 
 is related of his stay at Westwood, by 
 Dr. Fell, in his Life of Hammond. 
 
 " One Houseman, a weaver by trade, 
 but by weakness disabled much to fol- 
 low that or any other employment, was 
 extremely his favourite A little be- 
 fore his death, he and the Lady Paking- 
 ton being walking, Houseman happened 
 to come by, to whom, after the doctor 
 had talked in his usual friendly manner, 
 he let him pass ; yet soon after called 
 him with these words : ' Houseman, if 
 it should please God that I should be 
 taken from this place, let me make a 
 bargain between my lady and you, that 
 you be sure to come to her with the 
 same freedom you would to me for any 
 thing you want ;' and so with a most 
 tender kindness gave his benediction. 
 Then turning to the lady, he said, • Will 
 you not- think it strange I should be 
 more affected from parting from House- 
 man than from you V " 
 
 He instructed the children and ser- 
 vants of the family at Westwood, and on 
 his death-bed gave his blessing to his 
 friends' children. It was to Lady Pak- 
 ington's question, what more special 
 thing he would recommend to her for 
 her whole life, that he gave the answer, 
 " Uniform obedience," and she appears 
 to have attended him to the last. 
 k 
 
326 FRANCES LADY DIGBT. 
 
 Her own death did not take place till 
 1679, when she was buried at Hampton 
 Lovett. 
 
 The Whole Duty of Man, which was 
 found in her hand-writing, has been 
 commonly attributed to her, though it 
 still remains doubtful whether she com- 
 posed it, or copied it from one of the di- 
 vines who were her guests. Several 
 other treatises have been also assigned 
 to her, but she acknowledged none of 
 them during her life-time. 
 
 FRANCES LADY DIGBY. 
 
 The more peaceful lives now to be 
 noticed, recall to mind the following pas- 
 sage in Jeremy Taylor's Great Exem- 
 plar. 
 
 " It is not altogether inconsiderable to 
 observe that the holy Virgin came to a 
 great perfection and state of piety by a 
 few, and those modest and even exer- 
 cises and external actions. St. Paul 
 travelled over the world, preached to 
 the Gentiles, disputed against the Jews, 
 confounded heretics, writ excellently 
 learned letters, suffered dangers, inju- 
 ries, affronts, and persecutions to the 
 height of wonder ; and by these vio- 
 lences of life, action and patience, ob- 
 tained the crown of an excellent religion' 
 and devotion. But the holy Virgin, al- 
 though she was engaged sometimes in 
 an active life, and in the exercise of an 
 ordinary and small economy and govern- 
 
FRANCES LADY D1GBT. 327 
 
 ment, or ministries of a family, yet she 
 arrived to her perfections by the means 
 of a quiet and silent piety, the internal 
 actions of love, devotion, and contempla- 
 tion ; and instructs us, that not only 
 those who have opportunity and powers 
 of a magnificent religion, or a pompous 
 charity, or miraculous conversion of 
 souls, or assiduous and active preach- 
 ings, or exterior demonstrations of cor- 
 poral mercy, shall have the greatest 
 crowns, and the addition of degrees and 
 accidental rewards ; but the silent affec- 
 tions, the splendours of an internal devo- 
 tion, the unions of love, humility and 
 obedience, the daily offices of prayers 
 and praises sung to God, the acts of 
 faith and fear, of patience and meekness, 
 of hope and reverence, repentance and 
 charity, and those graces which walk in 
 a veil and silence, make great ascents to 
 God, and as sure progress to favour and 
 a crown, as the more ostentatious and la- 
 borious exercises of a more solemn reli- 
 gion. No man needs to complain of 
 want of power or opportunities for reli- 
 gious perfections : a devout woman in. 
 her closet, praying with much zeal and 
 affection for the conversion of souls, is 
 in the same order to a ' shining like the 
 stars in glory,' as he who, by excellent 
 discourses, puts it into a more forward 
 disposition to be actually performed. 
 And possibly her prayers obtained en- 
 ergy and force to my sermon, and made 
 the ground fruitful, and the seed spring 
 k 2 
 
328 FRANCES LADY DIGBT. 
 
 up to life eternal. Many times God is 
 present in the still voice and private re- 
 tirements of a quiet religion, and the 
 constant spiritualities of an ordinary 
 life ; when the loud and impetuous 
 winds, and the shining fires of more la- 
 borious and expensive actions, are profit- 
 able to others only, like a tree of balsam, 
 distilling precious liquor for others, not 
 for its own use." 
 
 Lady Frances Noel was the eldest 
 daughter of Edward, Lord Gainsborough, 
 and grand-daughter, through her mother, 
 Elizabeth Wriothesly, to the Lord 
 Treasurer, commonly called the virtuous 
 Southampton. She was married to Si- 
 mon Lord Digby, and lived with him a 
 fewyears of happiness. Lord Digby gave 
 the living of Coleshill, where he resided 
 with his wife, to Mr. Kettlewell, at the 
 end of the year 1682. The year after 
 Lady Digby had a daughter, afterwards 
 married to Lord Scudamore, and in the 
 following year she died. Her husband 
 survived her only a few months, for her 
 death took place in October, 1684, and 
 his in January, 1685. He was succeed- 
 ed by his brother William, who after- 
 wards married Lady Jane Noel, the 
 younger sister of Frances, and lived to 
 a great age. Mr. Kettlewell continued 
 in habits of intimacy with the Dowager 
 Lady Digby, the mother of his friend, 
 and composed for her a monumental in- 
 scription in 1692, when having been de- 
 prived of his cure for refusing to take 
 
FRANCES LADY DIGBY. 329 
 
 the oaths to the Prince of Orange, he 
 was no longer able to preach. The fu- 
 neral sermons of Simon and his wife 
 were both preached by him, and afford 
 the highest idea of their Christian char- 
 acter. Of Lord Digby's it is only in 
 place here to say, that it shows how 
 happy his wife was in such a guide and 
 counsellor. Kettlewell sums it up in 
 these words : " He was a well-studied 
 and improved Christian ; able to plead 
 for virtue and goodness with such reason 
 and argument as might become a preach- 
 er, and careful to adorn it with such 
 exactness as might adorn a cloister. He 
 was a person of very sincere and warm 
 devotion ; a most religious honourer of 
 God, and of the clergy for God's and 
 their function's sake ; an affectionate 
 admirer of true virtue and worth where- 
 soever he found it ; a sincere and zeal- 
 ous son of the Church of England, in 
 whose communion he lived and died, de- 
 siring above all things in his last ex- 
 tremities, to receive the holy Sacrament 
 and priestly absolution according to its 
 order and appointment ; and a faithful 
 and serviceable subject to the king. He 
 was strict in his trusts ; faithful and ac- 
 tive in his friendships ; a dutiful son ; 
 and discreet and loving husband ; a good 
 and careful master to his servants ; and 
 in the inclination of his mind, and ac- 
 cording to the opportunities of his life, 
 an universal friend and benefactor unto 
 all." 
 
 k 3 
 
330 TRANCES LADY DIGBY. 
 
 " In distributing his alms, his rule 
 was to distinguish between objects, that 
 he might give wisely, to supply real 
 wants, not to support idleness ; and then 
 to give freely and liberally, with all se- 
 crecy." " Out of his sincere zeal for 
 the honour of God, and the beauty of 
 his house and worship, he adorned the 
 choir of his own church (of Coleshill) 
 and nobly augmented the furniture of 
 communion-plate. Upon the death of 
 his excellent lady, besides his liberality 
 to every adjacent parish for a present 
 distribution, he allotted a considerable 
 sum to the use of the poor for a perpet- 
 ual settlement." 
 
 Nelson says in his Life of Kettlewell, 
 that he was happily placed at Coleshill, 
 being in high esteem with Lord Digby 
 and his family, and having the best pros- 
 pects of doing good there." " But it 
 pleased God to take from him very soon 
 the chief of his supports, in which great 
 part of his outward happiness was placed 
 by him ; the which he esteemed insepa- 
 rable from that of the noble family to 
 which he was obliged next under God, 
 and to which he stood in the nearest 
 spiritual relations, ministering to them 
 in holy things, with all gladness of heart. 
 The influence which he had hereby up- 
 on the Lord and Lady Digby was very 
 considerable, if we may judge by the ef- 
 fects." 
 
 The character of Lady Digby must be 
 given in the words of his sermon. 
 
FRANCES LADY DIGBT. 331 
 
 ** But the righteous hath hope in his 
 death. 1 '' — Prov. xiv. 32. 
 
 " But hitherto I have only laid down 
 the rule, and I have still another work 
 to do, which is, to set it off yet further, 
 in a fair pattern and example of it. I 
 mean the excellent noble person now 
 deceased, the character of whose virtues 
 will give life to all that I have said, and 
 be the best and most useful thing in all 
 my discourse. She was a great instance 
 of many virtues, nay of some which are 
 almost lost in practice, which seem to 
 reign scarcely any where but upon men's 
 tongues, as if they were impracticable 
 rules, that were never intended to be 
 followed and performed, but only to be 
 praised and talked of. And I cannot do 
 more right to those neglected graces, 
 than to show the remiss and slothful 
 world that they are more than words, 
 and are real living things, made visible 
 to all in the excellency of her practice. 
 
 •* God had endowed her with an ex- 
 cellent nature, which prevented many 
 of the great self-denials in religion, and 
 made it to her a tolerable easy thing. 
 This is an invaluable blessing bestowed 
 by the Almighty, and it was eminent in 
 her. To be universally kind and pleas- 
 ing was one of the most natural things 
 in her character, which made a religion 
 of love to be embraced without opposi- 
 tion. And together with this kindness 
 of nature, He had blessed her with much 
 humility of mind, and with a just se- 
 k 4 
 
332 FRANCES LADY DIGBY. 
 
 riousness and composure of spirit, which 
 made her apt for devotion and wise 
 counsels, and easy to receive and retain 
 any good impressions, which should be 
 stamped upon her. 
 
 11 Heaven's watchful care provided a 
 husband for her, who, to the intimacy of 
 his relation to her as a wife, the chief of 
 worldly friendships, coveted to add a 
 nobler friendship still, which was ground- 
 ed upon similarity of souls and virtuous 
 foundations, and was designed to serve 
 the most excellent purposes of religion, 
 in making each other better and wiser, 
 which is the perfection of the wisest 
 and most exalted friendships, between 
 the most endeared persons. 
 
 " Thus liberally had God endowed 
 this select soul with inclinations to vir- 
 tue and goodness, and with opportuni- 
 ties to ripen and improve them. And 
 had he spared her a longer life, wherein 
 to employ the talents which He had 
 given, we may justly expect the increase 
 would have been in a greater measure 
 and proportion. But though her race 
 was quickly done, for she died in the 
 twenty-third year of her age, yet she 
 had run much in a little time : in her 
 green years she had attained a maturity 
 in goodness, and was grown ripe in the 
 true ends and arts of living ; and the ef- 
 fect of these advantages was visible in 
 an exemplary and truly Christian con- 
 versation. To recount all her virtues, 
 is more than I can pretend to do ; they 
 
FRANCES LADY DI6BT. 333 
 
 were known only to God ; but for the 
 imitation of those whom she has left be- 
 hind her, I shall observe these follow- 
 ing. Her piety was great towards Al- 
 mighty God. She knew what honour 
 and homage, we all owe to Him, and was 
 careful to discharge these duties. She 
 would converse with Him daily in her 
 closet retirements, and constantly do 
 Him service in the public assembly ; not 
 allowing herself to neglect the service of 
 God for little reasons and inconveni- 
 encies, which can keep none back, but 
 those who have too little zeal for God, 
 and too much sloth fulness of spirit. And 
 to show how sincerely she resorted 
 thither, and not at all to set off herself, 
 but purely for pious ends ; at church 
 she did affect plainness of dress, and 
 6ought not to recommend herself to oth- 
 ers by elaborate attire and outward 
 adorning ; but only to God by the de- 
 votion of her mind, and the ornament of 
 an ' humble' and a ' meek spirit which in 
 the sight of God are of great price.' She 
 was in a constant preparation, as are all 
 good souls, for the holy sacrament, and 
 careful to embrace all opportunities of 
 joining in it : for since I had the happi- 
 ness to observe her, she never missed a 
 communion, but was always one in that 
 highest instance of devotion, to offer up 
 the sacrifice of a devout heart, and 
 thankfully to acknowledge the stupend- 
 ous love of God and of our dearest Sa- 
 viour to mankind. Such was the devo- 
 k 5 
 
334 FRANCES LADY DIGBT. 
 
 tion of this fair saint towards Almighty 
 God, which did not come upon her at 
 intervals, but was a settled habit, which 
 dwelt upon her spirit. And in all this 
 she showed an inward and hearty piety, 
 as one who plainly sought to be good 
 between herself and Him who seeth in 
 secret. For her religion did not seek to 
 show itself in an atfected outside, in 
 studied appearances, in talk and noise ; 
 but in all the modesty, silence, and gra- 
 vity, of a hearty and unaffected godli- 
 ness. She was good after the best fash- 
 ion, in an inward religion, which though 
 it showed itself in such reverent and 
 composed mien, as naturally flowed from, 
 and testified a spirit greatly affected ; 
 yet did not appear in any thing which 
 could seem chosen for display or affecta- 
 tion. 
 
 ' k And as she was thus careful to ad- 
 dress herself to God, so, which is a more 
 real instance of a governing piety, could 
 she quietly resign herself to His will in 
 the bitterest trials of His providence, 
 and trust Him with all things. The best 
 remedy in afflictions, as she said, was 
 prayer to God ; and when she was tried 
 with them, she found the effect of it in 
 an humble, calm, and uncontesting re- 
 signation. And to show the firm and 
 settled confidence which she had placed 
 in His care, when she was surprised by 
 death, she looked upon the sweet babe, 
 whom she was to leave behind her, as so 
 secure in the custody of Almighty God, 
 
FRANCES LADY DIGBT. 335 
 
 and the care of her dear husband, that 
 the thoughts of it did not in the least 
 trouble her. 
 
 "As to the government of herself, and 
 those virtues which were chiefly due to 
 her own person ; she was endowed with 
 an even temper, and the command of her 
 own inclinations, with humility, sinceri- 
 ty, and other virtues, and was a great 
 example in all of them. 
 
 " And then as for her carriage towards 
 all the world, how truly a Christian 
 part did she act, in a constant kindness, 
 candour and affability. In all these, her 
 life was full of deserved praise to her- 
 self, and very useful and instructive un- 
 to others, fit to direct the lives, and ex- 
 cite the imitation of all those who had 
 the opportunity of beholding it. 
 
 " In a word, she was a truly excellent 
 and amiable person ; plentifully endow- 
 ed with those qualities which may gain 
 love, and with those virtues which de- 
 serve imitation. And she had this testi- 
 mony to her worth, which shows not 
 only the reality, but the greatness of it: 
 she was not, as too many others are, 
 best liked at first, but still grew higher 
 in esteem, as she was longer and better 
 known. For she had such a stock of 
 true and solid goodness, as could not be 
 discovered, especially through the veil 
 which her modesty cast before it, till 
 time drew it out, and still administered 
 matter to those who beheld her, for a 
 new and growing affection. She envied 
 k 6 
 
336 FRANCES LADY D1GBY. 
 
 no person's condition, but was pleased 
 and contented in her own. She was a 
 sincere Christian, an ornament to her 
 husband, by whom she was dearly be- 
 loved, and in her memory highly hon- 
 oured, as she most justly deserved to be, 
 and an extraordinary blessing to this 
 family, who do resignedly submit to it 
 as to what God has ordered, but who 
 think the loss of such a treasure so great, 
 that in this world they dare not hope to 
 meet with any thing that can repair it. 
 
 "And what is still the crown and glo- 
 ry of all these perfections, amidst all 
 this, she was, as I have hinted, so free 
 from ostentation, and so opposite to any 
 thing that looked like seeking praise, 
 that nothing in this world could excel 
 her in these qualities. She was a per- 
 son, as of a very great, so of a very con- 
 cealed goodness. She used arts to 
 hide her virtues, and would hardly be 
 brought to acknowledge any thing to her 
 just praise, and did as truly take pains 
 to avoid the opinion of being excellent in 
 any endowments, as others do to obtain 
 it. So that she was like the sun wrapt 
 up in a cloud, her rays were cast all in- 
 ward, and, as far as she could order it, 
 shone only to herself, and to Almighty 
 God. She would, it seems, as far as 
 she was able, be altogether good for His 
 sake, and seek no worldly advantage by 
 it : but at the same time that she aspired 
 to be great in goodness, she shunned 
 the reputation of being so considered. 
 
FRANCES LADY DIGBY. 337 
 
 " Such were the virtues, and thus 
 considerable were the attainments, of 
 this pious soul in righteousness. And 
 being so well stored in goodness, it may 
 well be expected that she should have 
 her share in comforts, and, as the text 
 says, have hope in her death. And so, 
 indeed, it was. Her death was very 
 sudden, suspected by none, nor, in all 
 appearance, by herself, till she awoke in 
 the jaws of it, and said she was dying. 
 This was very short warning. But 
 though it may be sudden, it is never too 
 soon to a good Christian. A well-spent 
 life is such a preparation, that although 
 it comes the most unexpected, death can 
 never take them unprovided, but they 
 may meet it upon any intimation. But 
 this suddenness, though it could not en- 
 danger the safety, yet was a mighty 
 trial of the clear conscience and firm 
 hopes of this excellent person. Had she 
 been conscious of any thing to affright 
 her, then, no doubt, had been the time 
 to fear, when the Judge had sent the 
 summons, and called her in to come be- 
 fore Him. But from the applause of a 
 clear conscience, which having been 
 hitherto a faithful guide, proved now a 
 comfort to her; this happy soul, in that 
 surprise, had a clear, cheerful confidence, 
 and a foretaste of that joy and peace, 
 which God was preparing for her. 
 
 ►* Though she knew that she was de- 
 parting in haste, she could still spend 
 some of those few minutes which sie had 
 k 7 
 
338 FRANCES LADY D1GBT. 
 
 yet remaining, to declare her mind in 
 so me things which she would have order- 
 ed. And observing her nurse, who was 
 attending her, to weep, with an even and 
 undisturbed mind she rebuked her, and 
 bade her not weep for her, for she was 
 about to be happy, and, she humbly 
 trusted, to be an angel in heaven. 
 
 11 And thus I have endeavoured to give 
 some account of this excellent person, 
 and to unfold some of her virtues, which 
 may bring honour to God, and the great- 
 est benefit to ourselves, by our godly 
 imitation of them. This, though to some 
 who knew her not, or who looked not 
 near or long enough upon her to discover 
 a goodness so silent and secret, it may 
 seem an ample, yet to those who knew 
 her best, perhaps will appear to be an 
 imperfect picture. But I pretend not to 
 give a perfect description of her. She 
 was of such a modest goodness, and her 
 virtues were so industriously concealed, 
 that I believe that a just account of 
 them is only known to God, and must 
 then only be laid out at large tb all the 
 world, when He comes to reward openly 
 what was done in secret. I have only 
 designed to draw this fair saint in such 
 virtues, as I desire, from her copy, to 
 translate into others' practice. For 
 nothing is more instructive to the world, 
 and more likely to bring virtue into 
 practice, than to portray it in the lives 
 and acts of pious persons. This shows 
 men *#hat they are to do in religion, and 
 
MARY EVELYN. . 339 
 
 withal that it is a feasible thing to be 
 attempted ; and therein both directs and 
 excites to imitation. I am sure that 
 there is much to be learned in such a 
 pattern as this is ; and as the world has 
 great need, so* I hope it will reap some 
 profit by such examples. 
 
 44 What farther now remains for us, 
 but to preserve the memory of her great 
 virtues always fresh in our minds, and 
 to express the copy of them in our prac- 
 tice ? For it is the best way of remem- 
 bering the dead, and that which brings 
 most advantage to ourselves and honour 
 to them, to imitate what was good in 
 them ; when the piety and humility, and 
 justice, and charity, and other virtues of 
 the dead, are kept alive, and shown in 
 the conversation of the living. It is 
 only these virtues which carried those 
 who are gone, and which can carry us 
 also, in the end, to a joyful resurrection. 
 Whereunto, in Thy due time, do Thou, 
 O blessed God, in Thine abundant good- 
 ness, bring us all for Christ His sake. 
 Amen." 
 
 MARY EVELYN. 
 
 Mary Evelyn, eldest daughter of 
 John Evelyn, was born October 1st, 
 1665, after six sons, and is mentioned 
 occasionally in his Diary, as in 1679, he 
 speaks of her receiving the holy com- 
 munion for the first time when she was 
 about fourteen, adding a devout wish 
 that she might have grace to improve 
 k 8 
 
340 MART EVELYN. 
 
 this blessed beginning. His other occa- 
 sional mentions of her, regard her ac- 
 complishments in music, &c, till, in 
 1684, when she had reached her nine- 
 teenth year, he notices her illness, and 
 then her death, followed by a full out- 
 pouring of paternal love, which can be 
 given only in his own words. 
 
 " March 7th, 1684. My daughter 
 Mary was taken with the smallpox, and 
 there soon was found no hope of her re- 
 covery. A great affliction to me : but 
 God's holy will be done. 
 
 "March 10. She received the blessed 
 sacrament ; after which, disposing her- 
 self to suffer what God should determine 
 to inflict, she bore the remainder of her 
 sickness with extraordinary patience and 
 piety, and more than ordinary resigna- 
 tion and blessed frame of mind. She 
 died the 14th, to our unspeakable sorrow 
 and affliction, and not to ours only, but 
 that of all who knew her, who were 
 many of the best quality, greatest and 
 most virtuous persons. The justness of 
 her stature, person, comeliness of coun- 
 tenance, gracefulness of motion, unaf- 
 fected, though more than ordinary beau- 
 tiful, were the least of her ornaments 
 compared with those of her mind. Of 
 early piety, singularly religious, spend- 
 ing a part of every day in private devo- 
 tion, reading, and other virtuous exer- 
 cises ; she had collected and written out 
 many of the most useful and judicious 
 periods of the books she read in a kind 
 
MARY EVELYN. 341 
 
 of common -place, as out of Dr. Ham- 
 mond on the New Testament, and most 
 of the best practical treatises. She had 
 read and digested a considerable deal of 
 history and of places. The French 
 tongue was as familiar to her as English ; 
 she understood Italian, and was able to 
 render a laudable account of what she 
 read and observed, to which assisted a 
 most faithful memory and discernment; 
 and she did make very prudent and dis- 
 creet reflections upon what she had ob- 
 served of the conversations among which 
 she had at any time been, which being 
 continually of persons of the best qual- 
 ity, she thereby improved. She had an 
 excellent voice, to which she played a 
 thorough-bass on the harpsichord, in both 
 which she arrived to that perfection, 
 that of the scholars of those two famous 
 masters, Signors Pietro and Bartholo- 
 meo, she was esteemed the best ; for the 
 sweetness of her voice and management 
 of it added such an agreeableness to her 
 countenance, without any constraint or 
 concern, that when she sung, it was as 
 charming to the eye as to the ear ; this 
 I rather note, because it was a universal 
 remark, and for which so many noble 
 and judicious persons in music desired to 
 hear her, the last being at Lord Arun- 
 del's of Wardour. What shall I say, or 
 rather not say, of the cheerfulness and 
 agreeableness of her humour ? Conde- 
 scending to the meanest servant in the 
 family, or others, she still kept up re- 
 k 9 
 
342 MART EVELYN. 
 
 spect, without the least pride. She 
 would often read to them, examine, in- 
 struct, and pray with them if they were 
 sick, so as she was exceedingly beloved 
 of every body. Piety was so prevalent 
 an ingredient in her constitution, (as I 
 may say,) that even amongst equals and 
 superiors she no sooner became inti- 
 mately acquainted, but she would en- 
 deavour to improve them, by insinuating 
 something of religion, and that tended 
 to bring them to a love of devotion ; she 
 had one or two confidants with whom 
 she used to pass whole days in fasting, 
 reading, and prayers, especially before 
 the monthly communion and other solemn 
 occasions. 
 
 ** She abhorred flattery ; and though 
 she had abundance of wit, the raillery 
 was so innocent and ingenuous that it 
 was most agreeable. She sometimes 
 would see a play ; but since the stage 
 grew licentious, expressed herself weary 
 of them, and the time spent at the the- 
 atre was an unaccountable vanity. She 
 never played at cards without extreme 
 importunity, and for the company ; but 
 this was so very seldom, that I cannot 
 number it among any thing she could 
 name a fault. Mo one could read prose 
 or verse better, or with more judgment ; 
 and as she read, so she wrote, not only 
 most correct orthography, with that 
 maturity of judgment and exactness of 
 the periods, choice of expressions, and 
 familiarity of style, that some letters of 
 
MART EVELYW. 343 
 
 hers have astonished me and others to 
 whom she has occasionally written. She 
 had a talent of rehearsing any comical 
 part or poem, as to them she might be 
 decently free with was more pleasing 
 than heard in the theatre ; she danced 
 with the greatest grace I had ever seen, 
 and so would her master say, who was 
 Mons. Isaac ; but she seldom showed the 
 perfection, save in the gracefulness of 
 her carriage, which was with an air of 
 sprightly modesty not easily to be de- 
 scribed. Nothing affected, but natural 
 and easy as well in her deportment as in 
 her discourse, which was always mate- 
 rial, not trifling, and to which the extra- 
 ordinary sweetness of her tone, even in 
 familiar speaking, was very charming. 
 Nothing was so pretty as her descending 
 to play with little children, whom she 
 would caress and humour with great de- 
 light. But she most affected to be with 
 grave and sober men, of whom she might 
 learn something, and improve herself. I 
 have been assisted by her in reading and 
 praying by me ; comprehensive of un- 
 common notions, curious of knowing 
 every thing to some excess, had I not 
 sometimes repressed it. Nothing was so 
 delightful to her as to go into my study, 
 where she would willingly have spent 
 whole days ; for, as I said, she had read 
 abundance of history, and all the best 
 poets, even Terence, Plautus, Homer, 
 Virgil, Horace, Ovid ; all the best ro- 
 mances and modern poems ; she could 
 
344 MART EVELYN. 
 
 compose happily, and put in pretty sym- 
 bols, as in the ' Mundus Muliebris," (a 
 poem of Mr. Evelyn's, reprinted in his 
 Miscellaneous Wrirings, 1825, 4to., page 
 697-713,) "wherein is an enumeration 
 of the immense variety of the modes and 
 ornaments belonging to the sex ; but all 
 these are vain trifles to the virtues which 
 adorned her soul ; she was sincerely re- 
 ligious, most dutiful to her parents, whom 
 she loved with an affection tempered 
 with great esteem, so as we were easy 
 and free, and never were so well pleased 
 as when she was with us, nor needed 
 we other conversation ; she was kind to 
 her sisters, and was still improving them 
 by her constant course of piety. Oh, 
 dear, sweet, and desirable child, how 
 shall I part with all this goodness and 
 virtue, without the bitterness of sorrow 
 and reluctancy of a tender parent ! Thy 
 affection, duty, and love to me was that 
 of a friend as well as a child. Nor less 
 dear to thy mother, whose example and 
 tender care of thee was unparalleled, nor 
 was thy return to her less conspicuous : 
 Oh ! how she mourns thy loss ! how 
 desolate hast thou left us ! To the grave 
 shall we both carry thy memory ! 
 
 ** God alone (in whose bosom thou art 
 at rest and happy !) give us to resign 
 thee and all our contentment (for thou 
 indeed wert all in this world) to His 
 blessed pleasure! let Him be glorified 
 by our submission, and give us grace to 
 bless Him for the graces He implanted 
 
MART EVELYN. 345 
 
 in thee, thy virtuous life, pious and holy 
 death, which is indeed the only comfort 
 of our souls, hastening through the infi- 
 nite love and mercy of the Lord Jesus 
 to be shortly with thee, dear child, and 
 with thee and those blessed saints like 
 thee, glorify the Redeemer of the world 
 to all eternity ! Amen ! 
 
 " It was in the nineteenth year of her 
 age that this sickness happened to her. 
 An accident contributed to this disease ; 
 she had an apprehension of it in particu- 
 lar, which struck her but two days before 
 she came home, by an imprudent gentle- 
 woman whom she went with Lady Falk- 
 land to visit, who, after they had been a 
 good while in the house, told them she 
 had a servant sick of the smallpox; (who 
 indeed died the next day ;) this my poor 
 child acknowledged made an impression 
 on her spirits. There were four gentle- 
 men of quality offering to treat with me 
 about marriage, and 1 freely gave her 
 her own choice, knowing her discretion. 
 She showed great indifference to marry- 
 ing at all : 'for truly, says she to her 
 mother, (the other day,) • were I assured 
 of your life and my dear father's, never 
 would I part from you ; I love you and 
 this home where we serve God, above 
 all things, nor ever shall I be so happy ; 
 I know and consider the vicissitudes of 
 the world, I have some experience of its 
 vanities, and but for decency more than 
 inclination, and that you judge it expe- 
 dient for me, I would not change my 
 
346 MART EVELYN. 
 
 condition, but rather add the fortune you 
 design me to my sisters, and keep up 
 the reputation of our family.' This was 
 so discreetly and sincerely uttered, that 
 it could not but proceed from an extra- 
 ordinary child, and one who loved her 
 parents beyond example. 
 
 " At London she took this fatal dis- 
 ease, and the occasion of her being there 
 was this : My Lord Viscount Falkland's 
 lady having been our neighbour, (as he 
 was Treasurer of the Navy,) she took so 
 great an affection to my daughter, that 
 when they went back in the autumn to 
 the city, nothing would satisfy their in- 
 cessant importunity but letting her ac- 
 company my lady, and staying some 
 time with her ; it was with the greatest 
 reluctance I complied. Whilst she was 
 there, my lord being musical, when I 
 saw my lady would not part with her 
 till Christmas, I was not unwilling she 
 should improve the opportunity of learn- 
 ing of Sig. Pietro, who had an admirable 
 way both of composing and teaching. It 
 was the end of February before I could 
 prevail with my lady to part with her : 
 but my lord going into Oxfordshire to 
 stand for knight of the shire there, she 
 expressed her wish to come home, being 
 tired of the vain and empty conversation 
 of the town, the theatres, the court, and 
 trifling visits which consumed so much 
 precious time, and made her sometimes 
 miss of that regular course of piety that 
 gave her the greatest satisfaction. She 
 
MART EVELYN. 347 
 
 was weary of this life, and I think went 
 not thrice to court all this time, except 
 when her mother or I carried her. She 
 did not affect showing herself; she knew 
 the court well, and passed one summer 
 in it at Windsor with Lady Tuke, one 
 of the queen's women of the bedchamber; 
 (a most virtuous relation of hers;) she 
 was not fond of that glittering scene, now 
 become abominably licentious, though 
 there was a design of Lady Rochester 
 and Lady Clarendon to have made her a 
 maid of honour to the queen as soon as 
 there was a vacancy. But this she did 
 not set her heart upon, nor indeed on 
 any thing so much as the service of God, 
 a quiet and regular life, and how she 
 might improve herself in the most ne- 
 cessary accomplishments, and to which 
 she was arrived at so great a measure. 
 
 " This is the little history and imper- 
 fect character of my dear child, whose 
 piety, virtue, and incomparable endow- 
 ments deserve a monument more durable 
 than brass and marble. Precious is the 
 memorial of the just. Much I could en- 
 large on every period of this hasty ac- 
 count, but that I ease and discharge my 
 overcoming passion for the present, so 
 many things worthy an excellent Chris- 
 tian and dutiful child crowding upon me. 
 Never can I say enough, oh dear, my 
 dear child, whose memory is so precious 
 to me ! 
 
 " This dear child was born at Wotton, 
 in the same house and chamber in which 
 
348 MARY EVELYN. 
 
 I first drew my breath, my wife having 
 retired to my brother there in the great 
 sickness that year upon the first of that 
 month, and near the very hour that I 
 was born, upon the last, viz., October. 
 
 " March 16th. She was interred in 
 the southeast end of the church at Dept- 
 ford, near her grandmother, and several 
 of my younger children and relations. 
 My desire was she should have been 
 carried and laid among my own parents 
 and relations at Wotton, where 1 desire 
 to be interred myself, when God shall call 
 me out of this uncertain transitory life, 
 but some circumstances did not permit it. 
 Our Vicar, Dr. Holden, preached her 
 funeral sermon on 1 Phil. v. 21 : ' In me 
 to live is Christ, and to die is gain,' 
 upon which he made an apposite dis- 
 course, as those who heard it assured 
 me, (for grief suffered me not to be 
 present,) concluding with a modest re- 
 cital of her many virtues and signal pie- 
 ty, so as to draw both tears and admira- 
 tion from the hearers. I was not alto- 
 gether unwilling that something of this 
 sort should be spoken, for the edification 
 and encouragement of other young peo- 
 ple. 
 
 " Divers noble persons honoured her 
 funeral ; some in person, others sending 
 their coaches, of which there were six 
 or seven with six horses, viz., the Coun- 
 tess of Sunderland, Earl of Clarendon, 
 Lord Godolphin, Sir Stephen Fox, Sir 
 William Godolphin, Viscount Falkland, 
 
MART EVELYN. 349 
 
 and others. There were distributed 
 amongst her friends about sixty rings. 
 
 44 Thus lived, died, and was buried, 
 the joy of my life, and ornament of her 
 sex and of my poor family ! God Al- 
 mighty of His infinite mercy grant me 
 the grace to resign myself and all I have, 
 or had, to His divine pleasure ; and in 
 His good time, restoring health and com- 
 fort to my family ; 4 teach me so to num- 
 ber my days, that I may apply my heart 
 to wisdom,' be prepared for my dissolu- 
 tion, and that into the hands of my 
 Blessed Saviour I may recommend my 
 spirit ! Amen ! 
 
 44 On looking into her closet, it is in- 
 credible what a number of collections she 
 had made from historians, poets, travel- 
 lers, &c, but above all, devotions, con- 
 templations, and resolutions on these 
 contemplations, found under her hand in 
 a book most methodically disposed ; 
 prayers, meditations, and devotions on 
 particular occasions, with many pretty 
 letters to her confidants, one to a divine 
 (not named) to whom she writes that he 
 would be her ghostly father, and would 
 not despise her for her many errors, and 
 the imperfections of her youth, but 
 beg of God to give her courage to ac- 
 quaint him with all her faults, imploring 
 his assistance and spiritual directions. I 
 well remember she had often desired me 
 to recommend her to such a person, but 
 I did not think fit to do it as yet, seeing 
 her apt to be scrupulous, and knowing 
 
350 MART EVELYN. 
 
 the great innocency and integrity of her 
 life. 
 
 " It is astonishing how one who had 
 acquired such substantial and practical 
 knowledge in other ornamental parts of 
 education, especially music, both vocal 
 and instrumental, in dancing, paying and 
 receiving visits, and necessary conver- 
 sation, could accomplish half of what she 
 has left ; but as she never affected play 
 or cards, which consume a world of pre- 
 cious time, so she was in continual exer- 
 cise, which yet abated nothing of her 
 most agreeable conversation. But she 
 was a little miracle whilst she lived, and 
 so she died ! " 
 
 A letter from her mother is written in. 
 the same strain of love and sorrow. 
 
 " To Lady Tulce. 
 
 " April, 1685. 
 " How to express the sorrow for part- 
 ing with so dear a child is a difficult 
 task. She was welcome to me from the 
 first moment God gave her, acceptable 
 through the whole course of her life by 
 a thousand endearments, by the gifts of 
 nature, by acquired parts, by the tender 
 love she ever showed her father and me : 
 a thread of piety accompanied all her 
 actions, and now proves our greatest 
 consolation. The patience, resignation, 
 humility of her carriage in so severe and 
 fatal a disease, discovered more than an 
 ordinary assistance of the Divine good- 
 ness, never expressing fear of death, or 
 
MART EVELYN. 351 
 
 a desire to live, but for her friends' sake. 
 The seventh day of her illness she dis- 
 coursed to me in particular as calmly as 
 in health, desired to confess and receive 
 the blessed sacrament, which she per- 
 formed with great devotion ; after which, 
 though in her perfect senses to the last, 
 she never signified the least concern for 
 the world, prayed often, and resigned 
 her soul. What shall I say ? She was 
 too great a blessing for me, who never 
 deserved any thing, much less such a 
 jewel. I am too well assured of your 
 ladyship's kindness to doubt the part you 
 take in this loss; you have ever showed 
 yourself a friend in so many instances, 
 that I presume upon your compassion ; 
 nothing but this just occasion could have 
 hindered me from welcoming you to 
 town, and rejoicing with the best friend 
 I have in the world, a friend by merit 
 and inclination, one I must esteem as the 
 wife of so worthy a relation and so sin- 
 cere a friend as Sir Samuel was to me 
 and mine. What is this world, when we 
 recall past things ! What are the charms 
 that keep our minds in suspense ! with- 
 out the conversation of those we love, 
 what is life worth ! How did I propose 
 happiness this summer in the return of 
 your ladyship and my dear child, for she 
 was absent almost all this winter ! 
 
 " She had much improved herself by 
 the remarks she had made of the world 
 and all its vanities. What shall I add ? 
 I could ever speak of her ; and might I 
 
352 MART EVELYN. 
 
 be just to her without suspicion of par- 
 tiality, could tell you many things. The 
 papers which are found in her cabinet 
 discover how she profited by her read- 
 ing : such reflections, collections out of 
 Scripture, confessions, meditations, and 
 pious notions, evidence her time was not 
 spent in the trifling way of most young 
 women. I acknowledge, as a Christian, 
 I ought not to murmur, and I should be 
 infinitely sorry to incur God's further 
 displeasure. There are those yet re- 
 maining that challenge my care, and for 
 their sakes I endeavour to submit all I 
 can. I thank my poor cousin a thousand 
 times for her kind concern, and wish she 
 may live to be the comfort you deserve 
 in her, that God will continue the bless- 
 ing to both, and make you happy, which 
 is the prayer of her who is 
 
 "Yours most affectionately, M. E." 
 
 Mrs. Evelyn herself seems to have 
 been an exemplary wife and mother. 
 She was the only child of Sir Richard 
 Brown, and was manied in the Chapel 
 of the Embassy, at Paris, in 1647, when, 
 as it appears by the dates of her life, 
 she could have been only in her twelfth 
 or thirteenth year. She remained at 
 Paris with her parents till, in 1652, she 
 returned with Mr. Evelyn to England. 
 
 In her will, dated February, 1708, she 
 desired to be buried in a stone coffin near 
 that of her husband, "whose love and 
 friendship I was happy in fifty-eight 
 
MARY EVELYN. 353 
 
 years and nine months, but, by God's 
 providence, left a disconsolate widow, 
 the 27th of February, 1705, in the sev- 
 enty-first year of my age. His care of 
 my education was such as might become 
 a father, a lover, a friend, and husband, 
 for instruction, tenderness, affection and 
 fidelity to the last moment of his life ; 
 which obligation I mention with a grati- 
 tude to his memory ever dear to me ; 
 and I must not omit to own the sense I 
 have of my parents' care and goodness 
 in placing me in such worthy hands." 
 
 Evelyn makes mention in his Diary 
 of an intimate friend of his own and his 
 wife, of whom he seems to have intended 
 to leave a fuller record. He speaks of 
 her frequently as maid of honour to 
 Charles II. 's queen, under the name of 
 Mrs. Blagge, and in 1675 she married 
 Sidney Godolphin, celebrated as a states- 
 man during Queen Anne's reign. Three 
 years after her marriage, when she was 
 in her twenty-sixth year, she died sud- 
 denly of a fever, her husband having 
 only the day before her death informed 
 Mr. Evelyn of her danger, and desired 
 his prayers and assistance. In the midst 
 of the dissipations and wickedness of the 
 Court of that period, she had been as 
 much distinguished for her virtuous and 
 religious character as for her beauty, and 
 her death was deeply lamented both by 
 her friends and by the poor, to whom 
 she was a constant benefactor. She 
 sent <f£70 at one time to Mr. Evelyn to 
 
354 MARY EVELYN. 
 
 be distributed in charity, and was in the 
 habit of frequently sending him sums for 
 that purpose. Religion was, he says, 
 the tie of their friendship ; and during 
 the seven years in which she was maid 
 of honour, they often prayed, visited the 
 sick and miserable, received, read, dis- 
 coursed, and communicated in all holy 
 offices together ; she was most dear to 
 his wife, and affectionate to his children. 
 The Sunday before her death, " she re- 
 ceived the heavenly Viaticum, after a 
 most solemn recollection. She put all 
 her domestic concerns into the exactest 
 order, and left a letter directed to her 
 husband, to be opened in case she died 
 in childbed, in which, with the most pa- 
 thetic and endearing expressions of a 
 most loyal and virtuous wife, she begs 
 his kindness to her memory might be 
 continued by his care and esteem of those 
 she left behind, even to her domestic 
 servants, to the meanest of which she 
 left considerable legacies, as well as to 
 the poor." Her infant, born five days 
 before her death, survived her ; and 
 when grown to man's estate, continued 
 the friendship with Mr. Evelyn's family. 
 Her husband, overwhelmed by grief, 
 confided to him the care of her funeral, 
 which he attended to Godolphinin Corn- 
 wall ; and on his return, looked over her 
 papers with her husband, *« most of which 
 consisted of Prayers, Meditations, Ser- 
 mon Notes, Discourses, and Collections 
 on several religious subjects, and many 
 
ELIZABETH LADY GUILDFORD. 355 
 
 of her own happy composing, and so 
 pertinently digested, as if she had been 
 all her life a student in divinity. We 
 found a Diary of her solemn resolutions, 
 tending to practical virtue, with letters 
 from select friends, all put into exact 
 method. It astonished us to see what 
 she had read and written, her youth con- 
 sidered." 
 
 ELIZABETH LADY GUILDFORD. 
 
 Elizabeth Lady Guildford was 
 daughter to Fulk Grevile Lord Brook, 
 and first wife of Francis Lord Guildford, 
 son to the Lord Keeper North. The 
 care of her parents in her education was 
 so well requited by her, that one of them 
 said very seriously in express words, 
 44 that through her whole life-time she 
 had scarce done any thing to offend 
 them." 
 
 She had no relish for any thing which 
 could taint her imagination, or stain the 
 purity of her mind ; nor was she disposed 
 to books of idle entertainment; she chose 
 for her diversion instructive histories, but 
 gave her serious attention to such books 
 as taught her what was her duty, or 
 quickened her zeal to fulfil it. " For 
 this purpose, she very early began to 
 use the best arts of conversing with God, 
 and her own soul ; in the splendours of a 
 court, (for such was her father's house,) 
 she one day in the week constantly spent 
 in the retirements of her closet ; and in 
 conformity to the discipline of the 
 
356 ELIZABETH LADY GUILDFORD. 
 
 Church, her stated day was either Wed- 
 nesday or Friday, which of them she 
 foresaw she might be best permitted to 
 make her own, and observe our Lord's 
 direction, in fasting at a time when she 
 should least appear unto men to fast." 
 This account was given by a reverend 
 person who ministered to her family in 
 the offices of religion ; and he added the 
 remark, that he always observed her on 
 those days, after she had finished the 
 holy labours of them, to be more cheerful 
 in humour, lighter and more agreeable 
 in her conversation and air, than she was 
 used to be at any other time. 
 
 She was accustomed in her youth to 
 rise early every day, " when the first 
 thing she did, was devoutly to acknow- 
 ledge the mercy of God, who had watch- 
 ed over her while she slept ; thus sea- 
 soning her mind betimes in the morning, 
 she seemed to have a grateful savour of 
 it all the day after ; and when it could 
 be, without observation, she retired to 
 her closet at noon, that no distinct period 
 of her time might escape her consecra- 
 tion of herself and it, to God's honour 
 and glory." 
 
 She was diligent in her preparations 
 for the Lord's Supper, which she would 
 never omit but when she thought she 
 had not timely notice of the day of its 
 administration. " The hunger and 
 thirst she had after this heavenly food 
 was always more eager than her appe- 
 tite to her meals ; and at the approach 
 
ELIZABETH LADY GUILDFORD. 357 
 
 of death, that desire remained when all 
 others failed, the ardour of her spirit 
 seeming to actuate her body to bear its 
 share of reverence and worship on that 
 occasion." 
 
 She was discreet as well as liberal in 
 her charity, and being persuaded that 
 there was a giving which was not chari- 
 ty, she governed her charity as she did 
 her whole behaviour, with prudence. 
 
 She owed much to the gifts of nature, 
 though more to those of grace : for her 
 high birth, being dignified by a holy 
 calling, gave her great advantages for 
 commanding and improving her time, 
 and set her above the necessity or temp- 
 tation of wasting it in idle visiting. Her 
 form was beautiful, and that being suit- 
 ably animated by a devout soul, raised 
 her to the height of Solomon's charac- 
 ter, for as her lord was her head, so 
 was she his " crown." 
 
 Her aversion to whatever was dishon- 
 ourable gave occasion to her sometimes 
 being considered stately in her beha- 
 viour, for she could not bear the faults 
 or follies of the absent to be brought 
 forward for the amusement of the com- 
 pany, nor could she hear any affront of- 
 fered to God or religion without show- 
 ing her resentment of it; such indigna- 
 tion could not but preserve her the es- 
 teem of persons of worth, whatever she 
 might lose of outward compliment from 
 others. 
 
 She was trained up for the duties of 
 
358 ELIZABETH LADY GUILDFORD. 
 
 her life by bodily suffering, which she 
 endured most patiently, and died re- 
 gretted by all who knew her intimately 
 for her tenderness and affection. 
 
 The sermon in which this character 
 of her is given, was preached by Dr. 
 Knight, on the day of her funeral, Nov. 
 18th, 1699; but another sermon to her 
 memory seems to have been preached, 
 probably on the next Sunday, for Evelyn 
 says in his Diary, " At our chapel in 
 the evening," (he was then in London,) 
 •* was a sermon preached by young Mr. 
 Horneck, chaplain to Lord Guildford, 
 whose lady's funeral had been celebra- 
 ted magnificently the Thursday before. 
 A panegyric was now pronounced, de- 
 scribing the extraordinary piety and ex- 
 cellently employed life of this amiable 
 young lady. She died in childbed a 
 few days before, to the excessive sorrow 
 of her husband, who ordered the preach- 
 er to declare, that it was in her exempla- 
 ry life, exhortations and persuasion, that 
 he totally changed the course of his life, 
 which was before in great danger of be- 
 ing perverted, following the mode of this 
 dissolute age. Her devotion, early pi- 
 ety, charity, fastings, economy, disposi- 
 tion of her time in reading, praying, re- 
 collections in her own handwriting of 
 what she heard and read, and her con- 
 versation, were most exemplary." 
 
359 
 
 LADY NEWLAND. 
 
 The account of Lady Newland was 
 received from the pastor, " who knew 
 her intimately while she was living, and 
 who attended her through her sickness 
 to the gates of eternity." 
 
 " She had a mind fairly prepared for 
 the eternal exercise, and joy of the saints 
 and angels, which is to adore and praise 
 the Fountain of their being and happi- 
 ness, as appeared by the constancy of 
 her devotions, both in private and pub- 
 lic ; in private, her devotion was always 
 the first business in the morning, near 
 two hours of which she continually spent 
 in prayer, and reading, and meditation ; 
 and how late soever she happened to be 
 detained at night, whether by business 
 or innocent diversion, she always sepa- 
 rated at least one hour from her rest, for 
 the same divine and heavenly exercises ; 
 after which she constantly attended the 
 family devotions, not suffering one duty 
 to interfere with another. And then as 
 for her attendance upon the public 
 prayers of the Church, it was so re- 
 markably constant, that whenever she 
 absented from them, one might certainly 
 conclude, either she was detained by 
 sickness, or some very extraordinary oc- 
 casion. Yea, so very exact and punc- 
 tual was she in this matter, that she al- 
 ways took care, so to contrive her busi- 
 ness, and diversion, as that they might 
 comport with her attendance on the pub- 
 
360 LADY NEWLAND. 
 
 lie service ; so as that whenever it did so 
 happen, as that she could not be pres- 
 ent, either morning or evening, in her 
 own parish church, she might be sure 
 not to miss of it in some other. And as 
 for the holy sacrament, that best repast 
 and banquet of devout souls, she was a 
 constant guest at it once a month at 
 least, and for the most part oftener, as 
 she found opportunity ; her hunger and 
 thirst after that righteousness, therein 
 sealed and conveyed, being too eager to 
 be satisfied with the common stint of 
 twice or thrice a year's participation 
 ofit. 
 
 Thus did she spend the greater part 
 of her life in heaven, and this in a great 
 plenty of worldly enjoyments. And this 
 severe and abstracted kind of life which 
 she led, was so far from producing mo- 
 roseness, pride, or censoriousness, that 
 her conversation was always free and 
 open, " carrying such an amiable air 
 about it as sufficiently proved the excel- 
 lency of the temper from whence it did 
 proceed." After fulfilling her several 
 duties as a daughter, wife, mother, 
 friend, and mistress, she died in 1690, 
 and was buried in the church of Allhal- 
 lows, Barking, London. Of the circum- 
 stances of her life no particulars are 
 given. 
 
361 
 
 LADY CHOLMONDELEY. 
 
 Lady Cholmondeley deserves a 
 place among the religious ladies of her 
 time, according to the character given of 
 her by Samuel Catherall in the sermon 
 preached at her funeral. He describes 
 her as having fulfilled all the duties of 
 her station in life, whether in her single, 
 married, or widowed state. " A person 
 of an exact life and conversation, without 
 the affectation of Puritanical precise- 
 ness, or rigid moroseness, being ever 
 easy in herself, and never troublesome 
 to others ; and yet putting on always so 
 much of religious gravity in her conver- 
 sation, as to encourage virtue, and dis- 
 countenance vice." 
 
 Being gentle and obliging, and a great 
 enemy to tattle and evil speaking, she 
 was generally spoken of as the happy 
 person who had not one enemy. 
 
 In her religious course she was strict- 
 ly obedient to the rules of the Church, 
 much given to fasting, prayer, and study 
 of the Scriptures, and a monthly com- 
 municant at the table of the Lord, that 
 she might there receive the bread of 
 life and cup of salvation, and have sealed 
 to her the mysteries of redemption 
 through her Saviour. 
 
 In other respects her life presents a 
 picture such as has repeatedly been pre- 
 sented before, of devotional acts in her 
 family, and charitable acts to the needy. 
 When her death approached, she made, 
 
362 KATHARINE LADY NEVILLE. 
 
 preparations for it, and continued twice 
 a day to perform her devotions with her 
 whole family out of the public prayers 
 of the Church, and much more frequent- 
 ly out of other helps to devotion, whilst 
 she received the holy communion still 
 oftener than before. When from keep- 
 ing her room she was reduced to keep 
 her bed, the same devotional course was 
 continued, and this religious order of do- 
 ing all things fit to be done, no doubt 
 preserved in her the calmness and pa- 
 tience which she showed throughout her 
 illness, so that she was able to undergo 
 her last pains and agonies with more 
 composure than her relations and others 
 who saw her suffer them. 
 
 Her faculties being clear to the last, 
 she spent the small remainder of her 
 strength in advising those around her to 
 prepare for their latter end ; and whilst 
 she heard them praying passionately for 
 her, she as devoutly prayed for herself, 
 " still crying out in the language of her 
 holy mother, ' Lord, have mercy upon 
 me, Christ have mercy upon me ;' till at 
 last she recommended her spirit into His 
 hands, that undoubtedly received it into 
 mercy." 
 
 She died in February, 1691, and was 
 buried at Malpas, in Cheshire. 
 
 KATHARINE LADY NEVILLE. 
 
 Katharine, daughter of Sir Ar- 
 thur Ingram, of Temple Newsam in 
 
KATHARINE LADY NEVILLE. 363 
 
 Yorkshire, lost early in life her mother, 
 who was of a family faithful to the 
 Church of England, and was then edu- 
 cated by an aunt, a rigid Independent ; 
 but though daily solicited, she would 
 never join in communion with them, and 
 persevered to her dying day in fidelity 
 to her Church. 
 
 She became afterwards the wife of 
 Sir Christopher Neville, whom she sur- 
 vived. 
 
 Her chaplain, Mr. Malton, bears wit- 
 ness to the constancy of her attendance 
 upon the services of the Church, so that 
 when she was disabled from walking, 
 she was carried in a chair to the church, 
 and supported by two persons to her 
 seat. And when deprived of the use of 
 one side, she constantly had the service 
 of the Church read at home, and usually 
 a repetition of the sermon. 
 
 kt If she was interrupted in her ordi- 
 nary course of meditation and prayer, 
 yet she never would fail to finish her pi- 
 ous course, however unseasonable and 
 late, even to the prejudice of her bodily 
 health. She was a constant attendant at 
 the Lord's table, and received the holy 
 communion about two months before her 
 death, when she apprehended a sudden 
 change. Her illness caused her the se- 
 verest pain, which she bore without a 
 murmur, those sufferings never moving 
 her to repine, which caused the lookers- 
 on to feel pity and even horror." 
 
 " Every morning and evening she had 
 1 2 
 
364 KATHARINE LADY NEVILLE. 
 
 the service of the Church in her family, 
 where she required all her servants to 
 attend, in time for the confession. On 
 the Lord's day she assembled them be- 
 fore the morning service to return thanks 
 for all the mercies they had received, 
 and to recommend themselves to the 
 blessed influence and protection of God's 
 Holy Spirit for the remainder of the 
 day." 
 
 " She ever wrote down the sermon, 
 and made a repetition of it to her family, 
 and often to her poor neighbours, who 
 could not attend the public service 
 through sickness or other bodily infirmi- 
 ties. During the latter part of the Lord's 
 day, she used to hear her servants read 
 and repeat the Catechism, and the day 
 was ended by the Prayers of the Church, 
 and a psalm of thanksgiving." 
 
 The week before the administration of 
 the Sacrament of our Lord's Body and 
 Blood, was spent by her in stricter de- 
 votion with her family. 
 
 " She literally answered the Apos- 
 tle's character of being poor enough to 
 herself, yet making many rich ; to my 
 certain knowledge," says her chaplain, 
 11 always sparing and mean in her own 
 dress, that so she might cover their na- 
 kedness. She knew no other considera- 
 ble use of an estate than to be hospita- 
 ble, entertain her friends generously, 
 and to dispense and give liberally to 
 the poor. It was the wonder of her 
 acquaintance to consider whence she 
 
BARBARA LADY LONGUEVILLE. 365 
 
 had so great a fund, ever entertaining so 
 many visitors, I had almost said fami- 
 lies, and daily expending so much in 
 alms." 
 
 44 Thus conscientiously did she per- 
 form her duty to God and man ; she was 
 an ornament and glory to the religion 
 she professed, yet always lowly in her 
 own eyes, and departed this life full of 
 years and full of honour." She died in 
 April, 1715, and was buried at Anburgh, 
 in Lincolnshire. 
 
 BARBARA LADY LONGUEVILLE. 
 
 Barbara, daughter to John Talbot, 
 Esq., of Laycock, in Wiltshire, was 
 married to Henry Yelverton, Lord Grey 
 of Buthyn, created Viscount Longue- 
 ville in 1690. His father, Sir Henry 
 Yelverton, was a faithful son of the En- 
 glish Church during its calamities, and 
 received Dr. Morton, the Bishop of Dur- 
 ham, into his house, where he entertain- 
 ed him with the tenderness and duty of 
 a son, till his death on St. Matthew's 
 Day, in 1659. Sir Henry married Su- 
 san, Baroness Grey of Ruthyn, who 
 brought this title into the family. Their 
 6on, Henry Lord Longueville, died in 
 1703, in the fortieth year of his age, and 
 left two sons and five daughters in the 
 charge of his wife Barbara. 
 
 Her picture is preserved among the 
 
 celebrated beauties of Charles II. 's court, 
 
 in the collection at Petworth House ; but 
 
 upon her husband's death she retired 
 
 1 3 
 
366 MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 
 
 from the world, and lived to the age of 
 ninety-eight as a widow. 
 
 Though her husband bore the spurs at 
 •the coronation of William and Mary, 
 as well as of James II., she was devoted 
 to the Stuart family, and would some- 
 times say that she would have to inter- 
 cede for her descendants when the royal 
 family should be restored. She was 
 much opposed to investing money in the 
 funds, and would never trust to their 
 security. 
 
 She was a friend of Bishop Ken's, who 
 came to visit her after her husband's 
 death, when it is said that he asked to 
 see her infant, adding, " It always is 
 delightful to see a Christian who has 
 never willingly sinned against God." 
 
 To the end of her life she had a cus- 
 tom of making her maid read to her the 
 psalms and lessons of the day. In the 
 course of these, she usually made re- 
 marks upon what was read. One day 
 her maid was surprised by her unusual 
 silence, especially towards the end of 
 the reading. She ceased, but her mis- 
 tress was still silent, when it was found 
 that Lady Longueville had breathed 
 her last before the second lesson was 
 finished. 
 
 MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 
 This lady was descended from the 
 ancient family of the Harveys in Staf- 
 fordshire ; she was born in 1627, and 
 was married to Richard Hopton, of 
 
MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 367 
 
 Kington, in Herefordshire, by whose 
 care she was recalled to the Church of 
 her baptism. During the anarchy of 
 the kingdom, while she was yet young, 
 she had been drawn over to the Roman 
 Church by Father Tuberville, but be- 
 ing induced by her husband to consult 
 some of the most learned divines of the 
 age, and to read the best treatises on 
 both sides of the question with which 
 English writers could supply her, she 
 returned to her own Church, and con- 
 tinued to be a sincere and faithful mem- 
 ber of it. She is said to have been " a 
 woman of an excellent understanding, 
 fine wit, and solid judgment," and by 
 her own pains she repaired the neglect 
 of her education, though she always 
 herself lamented its incompleteness. 
 
 She had a large collection of English 
 books of devotion, and she herself com- 
 posed some under the title of " Daily 
 Devotions, consisting of Thanksgivings, 
 Confessions, and Prayers, by an humble 
 Penitent." These were for some time 
 supposed to be written by the same di- 
 vine who wrote " The Sacrifice of a De- 
 vout Christian," added to them in a later 
 edition, but Dr. Hickes ascertained by 
 Mrs. Hopton's own confession, that they 
 were written by her. 
 
 She wrote likewise an " Hexameron, 
 or Meditations on the Six Days of the 
 Creation ; Meditations and Devotions on 
 the Li!e of Christ." 
 
 Ai The subject was treated by this good 
 1 4 
 
368 MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 
 
 lady, not in the way of commentary or 
 explication, but rather of recital and ad- 
 miration, and such a thankful elevation 
 of the heart to God, as must leave all 
 those without excuse, who are not here- 
 by excited to fear, love, honour, obey* 
 and praise Him for His unspeakable 
 goodness from day to day." Here she 
 proceeds step by step, through all the 
 works of Creation, to remind us of the 
 blessings continually showered down 
 upon us. Such is the account given of 
 the work by Dr. Spinckes in his Pre- 
 face to it : and he adds, " Let but the 
 devout Christian seriously observe how 
 all the other works of the Lord ' praise 
 Him, and magnify Him for ever,' how 
 * the heavens declare the glory of God* 
 and the firmament shows His handi- 
 work, the earth also, with all the works 
 that, are therein ;' and how these all con- 
 stantly obey His commands, and answer 
 the ends of their creation; and he must 
 inevitably blush, and be heartily ashamed 
 to think that mankind, the lord of all, 
 should be the only ungovernable part of 
 all this visible world.'' 
 
 From the works of Creation she pro- 
 ceeded in the latter part of these medi- 
 tations to the mercies of Redemption, so 
 as to raise the mind of the Christian to 
 the love of our Blessed Lord, by the 
 contemplation of all that he has done for 
 our happiness. 
 
 She also reformed the " Devotions in 
 the Ancient way of Offices," which 
 
MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 369 
 
 were composed by a member of the Ro- 
 mish Church ; she spent great pains in 
 correcting whatever parts of these offices 
 rendered them unfit for the use of mem- 
 bers of the Church of England, and then 
 sent them to Dr. Hickes, who after fur- 
 ther correction and improvement, pub- 
 lished them. After recommending them 
 to the use of members of the English 
 Church, he proceeds thus : " But all 
 this while I have been speaking of the 
 book, I had almost forgot the devout re- 
 former of it, who is one that hath a 
 mighty genius for divinity, and though 
 never bred in scholastic education, yet 
 by conversation with learned clergymen, 
 hath attained to a skill in that sacred 
 science not much inferior to that of the 
 best divines. It is one, who hath al- 
 ready given to the world one book of 
 devotion, which hath been well received 
 in four or five editions, and will leave it 
 another, for which posterity will bless 
 the author's name ; one, whose house is 
 a temple, and whose family is a church 
 or religious society, and whose hands 
 are daily lifted up unto heaven, with 
 alms as well as prayers ; one who reli- 
 giously observes all the orders of the 
 Church that concern the people, and 
 wishes that those were better observed 
 which concern the priests ; one who 
 more particularly keeps with most ex- 
 act observance all the fasts and festivals 
 of the Church, and for the great ends for 
 winch they are enjoined ; in a word, one 
 1 5 
 
570 MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 
 
 who is a great example of Christian pie- 
 ty, and a singular ornament to our Com- 
 tnunion in this degenerate age ; and 
 among the many and most serious good 
 wishes I have for the Church of Eng- 
 land, this is, and always shall be one, 
 that all her sons and daughters were 
 Such." 
 
 In a later edition he adds, that he is 
 ho longer obliged to silence " concerning 
 the first reformer of these devotions; of 
 whom the world has now been already 
 by me made acquainted, that it was a 
 Very devout gentlewoman of quality, 
 lately deceased, who in her youth had 
 been drawn away from tbe Church of 
 England to that of Rome : but returned 
 back to her first fold upon a fuller and 
 more accurate review of the controversy 
 betwixt the two Churches ; whereof a 
 Sufficient account is to be found in a let- 
 ter of hers to Father Tnbcrville." Thia 
 letter was included by Dr. Hickes in a 
 fcollection which he made upon the sub- 
 ject, and in his Preface to it he made 
 honourable mention: of the writer. 
 
 The book of devotions contains offices 
 for the days of the week, hours of the 
 day, seasons and festivals of the year, 
 and also for special occasions of prayer, 
 humiliation, or thanksgiving ; and as 
 she thus pointed out a course of regular 
 devotion, so "she kept it up not only in 
 herself, but in her family ; not only on 
 the Lord's day, but throughout the 
 whole week, setting apart five times 
 
MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 371 
 
 every day for religious worship; from 
 which she would not suffer hersell to be 
 diverted, by any business that was not 
 very extraordinary. Even in her old 
 age, and the cold winter season, she 
 would be up, and in the closet at her 
 motins, by four of the clock in the morn- 
 ing, from which custom she was for a 
 long time not to be discouraged, either 
 by the effects of her declining age, or by 
 the extremity of the weather. So that 
 she might truly say with the royal 
 Psalmist, » Mine eyes prevent the night 
 watches, that I may be occupied in Thy 
 words.' Though some time before she 
 died, she was prevailed with to forbear 
 till five or six. She neither indulged 
 herself in diet nor sleep, so much as her 
 years required, but contented herself 
 with less in both these respects, than 
 those about her judged convenient for 
 her. So much was she above gratifying 
 the flesh, and so desirous not to fall short 
 of any mortification she apprehended 
 her religion to have required of her. 
 
 44 She was a constant observer of not 
 only the feasts, but fasts of the Church 
 likewise, and was much scandalized at 
 the generality of those who profess 
 themselves members of the Church of 
 England, for showing no more regard to 
 such days." 
 
 44 She well remembered our blessed 
 
 Saviour's infinite love, not only in dying 
 
 for us miserable sinners, but moreover, 
 
 in instituting the Holy Eucharist, in 
 
 1 6 
 
372 MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 
 
 memory of His Body broken, and His 
 Blood poured forth for our redemption, 
 and not only readily embraced all oppor- 
 tunities of attending upon this sacred 
 ordinance, but did it with the greatest 
 solemnity and reverence. And well 
 knowing what especial advantages the 
 devout Christian receives from so near 
 approach to his blessed Saviour, she 
 looked upon it, and longed after it, as a 
 foretaste of that heavenly banquet, 
 whereof she promised herself to be made 
 partaker, when she should be admitted 
 to an immediate enjoyment of Him. It 
 was the delight of her soul to commem- 
 orate His love, and bless Him for His 
 goodness, though in the humblest man- 
 ner as she could." 
 
 " As her prayers, so did her alms 
 likewise ascend up to heaven, to pre- 
 pare her a place there, that when her 
 prayers here should cease, she might be 
 admitted to sound forth eternal hallelu- 
 jahs, with the blessed choir of saints and 
 angels. For she was not sparing in 
 these ; but as she had a fortune to do it, 
 so she took care to dispense them boun- 
 tifully^ though sometimes with affected 
 secrecy, whilst she lived, and was lib- 
 erally munificent whon she died. It 
 would have grieved one to hear the sad 
 lamentations that were amongst her 
 neighbours at Kington, not long before 
 her death, by reason of her removal 
 from thence to Hereford, where some 
 time after she ended her days, after she 
 
MRS. SUSANNA HOPTON. 373 
 
 had lived to a good old age, being eighty- 
 one years old and upwards. Which 
 time she had improved to the best pur- 
 poses, in serving God, and doing good in 
 her generation. Nor was her bounty 
 confined to that neighbourhood, though 
 most remarkable there ; for it extended 
 to the poor and needy in far distant 
 places, where she saw occasion ; as ap- 
 pears from several letters of thanks, that 
 were found among her papers. 
 
 " Another good quality observable in 
 her was, that she was of a very grateful 
 temper, insomuch, that when she had 
 any way received an obligation, she was 
 observed to be uneasy till she had ex- 
 pressed her sense of it, by a suitable re- 
 turn, and usually to the advantage of 
 such as had obliged her." 
 
 Such is the account of Mrs. Hopton's 
 widowhood given by Dr. Spinckes ; her 
 husband, who was one of the judges in 
 Charles the Second and James the Se- 
 cond's reigns, died in 1690, and left her 
 without children, in very plentiful cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 As Mr. Hopton had been a great 
 benefactor to the clergy, and had re- 
 stored to the Church the large impro- 
 priation of Bishop's Frome, in Hereford- 
 shire, so was his widow a benefactress 
 to them, ever dutiful to the Church and 
 its orthodox sons, particularly to those of 
 the clergy who were reduced by depri- 
 vation to poverty ; to whom she left in 
 trust <f£700. 
 
 1 7 
 
374 MRS. SUSANNA HOPTOW. 
 
 A friend who knew her thoroughly, 
 described her discourse " upon serious 
 matters as strong, eloquent, and nervous ; 
 upon pleasant subjects, witty and face- 
 tious ; and when it required an edge, 
 was as sharp as a razor. For she knew 
 exactly well what was proper to be said 
 upon any occasion, or to any company. 
 She was a rare manager and economist, 
 and set down every day what she re- 
 ceived in, and paid out ; and by such 
 care was enabled to be charitable to the 
 poor in the highest degree, and hospita- 
 ble to her friends in a generous man- 
 ner." She had a good collection of 
 books ; and the margins of most of them 
 filled with her manuscript notes, amongst 
 which were more than twenty volumes, 
 by Romish authors, left by her to Dr. 
 Hickes. She fell sick of a very sharp 
 fever, about the end of June, 1709, 
 which she bore with uncommon courage, 
 patience and resignation. By her will, 
 dated July, 1708, she commended "her 
 soul to Almighty God, and her body to 
 be buried near her husband, in the parish 
 church of Bishop's Frome, Hereford- 
 shire, " according to the order of the 
 Church of England : in the Catholic 
 Communion of which Church I die ; be- 
 lieving she holds the true Catholic Faith 
 according to the Scriptures, and Apos- 
 tolical Traditions explaining them ; the 
 three Creeds expressing the articles of 
 Faith, and the first four General Coun- 
 cils explaining them." 
 
ANNE BAYNARD. 375 
 
 She died on July 12th, and was bu- 
 ried according to her appointment, and 
 an inscription composed to her memory 
 fcy Dr. Hickes. 
 
 ANNE BAYNARD. 
 
 Anne Bavnard was born at Pres- 
 ton, in Lancashire, and was the only 
 child of Dr. Edward Baynard, Fellow of 
 the College of Physicians. Her char- 
 acter was given by Collier in his great 
 Historical Dictionary % where he derives 
 her descent from Ralph Baynard, who 
 came into England with the Conqueror, 
 and received eighty-four lordships for 
 his courage at the battle of Hastings, 
 but of whom Mr. Collier says, that it 
 May be doubted whether the first Ralph 
 added so much distinction to the family 
 as the last Anne. 
 
 His character of her is as follows : 
 ** Anne Baynard, for her prudence, pie- 
 ty, and learning, deserves to have her 
 memory perpetuated ; being not only 
 skilled in the learned languages, but in 
 all manner of learning and philosophy, 
 without vanity or affectation. Her 
 words were few, well chosen and ex- 
 pressive. She was seldom seen to smile, 
 being rather of a reserved and stoical 
 disposition ; which sect of philosophers 
 she most affected ; their doctrine (in 
 most parts) seeming agreeable to her 
 natural temper ; for she never read, or 
 spoke of them, but with a sort of delight 
 and pleasingness in her countenance ; 
 1 8 
 
376 ANNE BATNARD. 
 
 she had a great contempt of the world, 
 especially of the finery and gayety of 
 life ; she had a great regard and venera- 
 tion for the sacred name of God, and 
 made it the whole business of her life to 
 promote His honour and glory ; and the 
 great end of her study was, to encounter 
 atheists and libertines, as may be seen 
 in some severe satires written in the 
 Latin tongue, in which language she had 
 great readiness and fluency of expression. 
 
 Mr. Prude, the minister of her parish, 
 in his funeral sermon, enlarges more 
 fully on these points. 
 
 "As for learning, whether it be to 
 know and understand natural causes and 
 events, to know the courses of the sun, 
 moon, and stars ; the qualities of herbs 
 and plants ; to be acquainted with the 
 demonstrable verities of the mathemat- 
 ics; the study of philosophy ; the writ- 
 ings of the ancients, and that in their 
 own proper language, without the help 
 of an interpreter ; these things she was 
 not only conversant in, but mistress of. 
 She had from her infancy been trained 
 up in the knowledge of them, and had 
 made a great progress therein ; and even 
 in her green years, at the age of twenty- 
 three, was arrived to the knowledge of a 
 bearded philosopher." 
 
 It appears that her parents, " perceiv- 
 ing her elegant and sprightly genius, 
 joined with a natural propensity to learn- 
 ing, gave her a very liberal education 
 which she improved to the utmost. 
 
ANNE BAYNARD. 377 
 
 ** She took great pains to perfect her 
 knowledge in the Greek tongue, that she 
 might read St. Chrysostom in his own 
 language. She was very conversant in 
 the Greek Testament ; and not satisfied 
 with reading only, she set herself to the 
 composing oT many things in the Latin 
 tongue, from which it appeared that she 
 had a beauty in her style as well as in 
 her countenance. Her strong memory 
 and exalted mind made her covet more 
 and more knowledge, and in this particu- 
 lar alone she would often say, * It was a 
 sin to be contented with but a little.' 
 
 *■ But after all this, with what pro- 
 found humility, with what prostration of 
 mind would she cry out with St. Paul, 
 * I count all things but loss, for the ex- 
 cellency of the knowledge of Christ Je- 
 sus my Lord.' 
 
 M In which study she was no small 
 proficient, and had often by her nervous 
 arguments, and by the grace of God 
 which was in her, sent to silence some 
 of those bold men who have attempted, 
 even in these days, to revive that old 
 and baffled heresy of Socinus, and she 
 much lamented that such opinions should 
 gain any footing or entertainment among 
 Christians. 
 
 M I have heard her say," (Mr. Prude 
 continues,) "that human learning was 
 worth nothing, unless it leads to the 
 knowledge of Christ revealed in the 
 Gospel as her only Saviour. * What 
 availeth Solomon's skill,' she would ask, 
 1 9 
 
378 ANNE BATNARP. 
 
 1 in all the works of nature, if by them 
 we be not brought to see the God of na- 
 ture ? What is it to be so skilful in 
 astronomy, as that by the motions of the 
 heavens we can foretell things here be- 
 low, if we never study by our holy 
 practices to come thither ? What is it 
 to be so skilful in arithmetic, as that we 
 can divide and subdivide to the smallest 
 fractions ? If (as God hath revealed 
 unto us in His Holy Word) we do not 
 so learn to number our days that we may 
 apply our hearts unto wisdom ?' 
 
 " What is it for a physician to be 
 skilful in foreseeing and preventing the 
 diseases of the body, if (as God hath re- 
 vealed unto him) he knoweth net where 
 to find that Balm of Gilead r the wine 
 and oil of that Samaritan, the Lord Je- 
 sus, to pour into the festered wounds of 
 his own soul and conscience ?" 
 
 " She was a true and constant Church- 
 woman, a great asserter and defender T 
 both of the order and economy of the 
 Church of England, and pitied the 
 hreaches and schisms, which dissensions 
 had made in the pure and spotless reli- 
 gion of the most Holy Jesus. She would 
 often say, that pride and self-conceit 
 were the two main pillars on which that 
 fabric of dissension stood, and therefore 
 wise and considerate persons would 
 easily conclude it to be built upon a 
 weak and sandy foundation. 
 
 " And as to heresy, so she was a pro- 
 fessed enemy to atheism and profane- 
 
ANNE BAYNARIK 379 
 
 ness, and held the sacred name of God 
 in such reverence, that she always either 
 bowed or stood up, when any occasional 
 discourse offered itself that way. 
 
 44 She was a constant frequenter of the 
 Word and Sacrament ; and the prayers 
 of the Church, which call for our daily 
 attendance, she never missed, unless 
 hindered by some bodily infirmity, to 
 which of late she had been too subject. 
 
 M Her private piety and devotion was 
 no less, and in her chamber she ' com- 
 muned with her own heart,' privately 
 examining the state of her soul, that she 
 might 4 stand in awe and sin not.' 
 
 44 She caught at all opportunities of 
 retirement that she might have the bet- 
 ter intercourse with heaven, and prepare 
 for death by daily dying in holy soli- 
 tude. 
 
 44 She spent no time in dressing or 
 adorning herself, and out of the allow- 
 ance given her she laid aside a part for 
 charitable and pious uses. 
 
 44 Her constitution was infirm ; and 
 two years before her death she was 
 walking alone in the churchyard, where 
 she was afterwards buried, when resting 
 herself in the porch, a sudden thought 
 broke in upon her mind, that in a short 
 time she should die and be buried there, 
 which, far from casting any gloom upon 
 her spirits, rather made her in love with 
 the place, so that ever after she liked to 
 retire there, and chose it for her burial 
 place. 
 
OOU ANNE BATNARD. 
 
 ** Her Christian love for the souls of 
 men made her importunate in her inter- 
 cessions for the good of the world, and 
 gave her courage and discretion above 
 her years or sex, to benefit the souls of 
 those she conversed with, by friendly 
 reproof, good counsel, or learned and 
 pious discourse. 
 
 On her deathbed she desired Mr. 
 Prude to exhort all y >ung people to the 
 study of wisdom and knowledge ; and 
 then just before her departure she spoke 
 these words upon the subject, which 
 were, he says, faithfully penned down, 
 and delivered into his hands. 
 
 »• I desire rhat all young people may 
 be exhorted to the practice of virtue, and 
 to increase their knowledge by the study 
 of philosophy, and more especially to 
 read the great book of nature, wherein 
 they may see the wisdom and power of 
 the Great Creator, in the order of the 
 universe, and in the production of all 
 things. It will fix in their minds a love 
 to so much perfection, frame a divine 
 idea, and an awful regard of God, which 
 will heighten devotion, and lower the 
 spirit of pride, and give a habit and dis- 
 position to His service ; it will make us 
 tremble at folly and profaneness, and 
 command reverence and prostration to 
 His great and holy Name. 
 
 M That women are capable of such im- 
 provements, which will better their 
 judgments and understandings, is past all 
 doubt ; would they but set to it in earn- 
 
CATHARINE BOVEY. 381 
 
 est, and spend but half of that time in 
 study and thinking which they do in 
 visits, vanity, and folly. 
 
 " It would introduce a composure of 
 mind, and lay a sound basis and ground- 
 work for wisdom and knowledge, by 
 which they would be better enabled to 
 serve God, and help their neighbours." 
 
 She died in June, 1697, in her twen- 
 ty-fifth year, and was buried in the 
 churchyard of Barnes. Some English 
 lines were inscribed on her monument, 
 and Latin verses were afterwards com- 
 posed to her memory. 
 
 Mr. Prude dedicated his sermon to 
 eight ladies, who were her friends or re- 
 lations, and some of whom had shown 
 her constant attention during her illness : 
 " Lady Mary Fane, Lady Catharine 
 Longueville, Lady Rachel Delves, Ma- 
 dam Mary Bampfylde, Madam Diana 
 Montague, Madam Mary Ewer, Madam 
 Catharine Broncker." 
 
 CATHARINE BOVEY. 
 
 Catharine Bovey was the daughter 
 of John Riches, Esq., of London, mer- 
 chant. At the age of fifteen she was 
 married to William Bovey, Esq., who 
 was Lord of thj Manor of Flaxley, in 
 Gloucestershire, a gentleman of a very 
 plentiful fortune. 
 
 A contemporary author gives the fol- 
 lowing description of her : " Her per- 
 son has as many charms as can be desi- 
 red. She is one of those loftv, black. 
 
382 CATHARINE BOVEY. 
 
 and lasting beauties, that strike with 
 reverence, and yet delight ; there is no 
 feature in her face, nor any thing in her 
 person, her air, and manner, that could 
 be exchanged for any others, and she not 
 prove a loser ; then as to her mind and 
 conduct, her judgment, her sense, her 
 steadfastness, her reading, her wit and 
 conversation, they are admirable, so 
 much above what is most lovely in the 
 sex, that shut but your eyes, (and al- 
 low for the music of her voice,) your 
 mind would be charmed, as thinking 
 yourself conversing with the most know- 
 ing, most refined of yours ; free from all 
 levity and superficialness, her sense is 
 solid and perspicuous." The character 
 goes on in as high a strain of praise to 
 describe her as uniting the knowledge of 
 a man with the household virtues of a 
 woman, and concealing her perfections 
 in her house among a few friends. Sir 
 Richard Steele, in dedicating to her the 
 second volume of the Ladies' Library, 
 observed to her, that '• instead of assem- 
 blies, books and solitude were her choice, 
 and that she had gone on in the study of 
 what she should be, rather than attend 
 to the celebration of what she was ; 
 thus," says he, " with the charms of the 
 fairestof your own sex, and knowledge not 
 inferior to the more learned of ours, a 
 closet, a bower, or some beautuous scene 
 of rural nature, has constantly robbed 
 the world of a lady's appearance, who 
 never was beheld but with gladness to 
 
CATHARINE B0VEY. 383 
 
 her visitants, nor ever admired but with 
 pain to herself." 
 
 "At the age of twenty-two, she was 
 left a widow, without children, and rich, 
 and being likewise certain of inheriting 
 a large fortune from her father ; these 
 things, added to her beauty, gained her 
 crowds of admirers. She however chose 
 to remain in a state of widowhood, that 
 she might be certain to meet with no 
 interruption in the distribution of her 
 great riches, which she employed to the 
 best purposes, viz., to various works of 
 piety, to divers kinds of charity, to hos- 
 pitality, and to the encouragement of 
 learning. And notwithstanding the dis- 
 advantages of her education, in not be- 
 ing taught the learned languages, yet by 
 often conversing with some of the most 
 learned men of the age, and by her reti- 
 red way of life and intense application 
 to study, she attained to a very great 
 share of learning, knowledge and judg- 
 ment." 
 
 Dr. Hickes, in the preface to a learn- 
 ed work of his printed long before her 
 death, expressed his esteem for her in 
 the highest terms, calling her M our 
 Christian Hypatia," 
 
 She died in January, 1726, in her fif- 
 ty-seventh year, at Flaxley, in Glouces- 
 tershire, where a monument was erect- 
 ed to her, with an inscription recording 
 her hospitality and charity while she 
 lived there; her clothing and feeding 
 the poor, and teaching their children, 
 
384 MRS. MART ASTELL. 
 
 some of whom every Sunday in turn, 
 she entertained at her house, and exam- 
 ined. It records also her bequests to 
 several hospitals and other charitable 
 purposes, and her intention of rebuilding 
 this chapel at Flaxley, which design 
 was fulfilled by her executrix, Mrs. 
 Mary Pope. 
 
 The same lady, who as she recorded 
 on the monument, had " lived with her 
 near forty years, in perfect friendship, 
 never once interrupted," erected a mon- 
 ument to her also in Westminster Ab- 
 bey, with a long inscription, describing 
 her mode of life as it has been already 
 related from other sources. 
 
 MRS. MARY ASTELL. 
 
 Mary Astell, whose life is given in 
 Ballard's Collection, must not be omit- 
 ted among the remarkable women of the 
 seventeenth century. She was born at 
 Newcastle-upon-Tyne, about 1668, and 
 was the daughter of a merchant of that 
 place, who gave her a good education ; 
 she was taught all the accomplishments 
 commonly learned by young gentlewo- 
 men in her station, and though at that 
 time she learnt no foreign language ex- 
 cept French, she afterwards gained some 
 knowledge of Latin. Her uncle, who 
 was a clergyman, observing her quick 
 natural parts and eagerness for learning, 
 undertook to be her preceptor, and un- 
 der his tuition she made a considerable 
 
MRS. MART ASTELL. 385 
 
 progress in philosophy, mathematics, 
 and logic. 
 
 At about twenty years of age she left 
 Newcastle and went to London, where, 
 and at Chelsea, she spent the remainder 
 of her life. Here she pursued her stu- 
 dies very diligently, and in a little time 
 made great additions to her knowledge 
 of the sciences, in which she had been 
 already instructed. Her own delight in 
 learning made her wish that it should be 
 more sought after by her own sex, under 
 the idea that it would keep them from 
 many follies and inconveniences. With 
 this impression she wrote and published 
 •a treatise, entitled, " A Serious Propo- 
 sal to the Ladies, for the advancement 
 of their true and greatest interest," &c, 
 and some time after she published a 
 second part. " Wherein a method is of- 
 fered for the improvement of their 
 minds." In the first part she proposed 
 a scheme for a kind of college for the 
 education and improvement of the fe- 
 male sex, and to serve as a retreat to such 
 ladies as were averse to the bustle of the 
 world, and wished for a peaceful retire- 
 ment. The name of a convent was to 
 be avoided, if likely to give offence, and 
 the inmates were to be bound by no 
 vows; but during their residence, were 
 to observe all fast days, and other ap- 
 pointments of the Church, to spend 
 much of their time in devotion and char- 
 ity, to educate young persons, especially 
 orphans, and to cultivate their own minds 
 
386 MRS. MART ASTELL. 
 
 by reading. " The scheme seemed so 
 reasonable, and wrought so far upon a 
 certain great lady, that she had design- 
 ed to give d£lO,000 towards the founda- 
 tion of such an establishment ; bur this 
 design coming to the ears of Bishop 
 Burnet, he immediately went to that 
 lady, and so powerfully remonstrated 
 against it, telling her it would look like 
 preparing a way for Popish orders, that 
 it would be reputed a nunnery, &e M 
 that he utterly frustrated that noble de- 
 sign." 
 
 Soon after Mrs. Astell had published 
 the first part of her Proposal, she read 
 Mr. John Norris's Practical Discourses, 
 upon several Divine subjects ; these up- 
 on careful study raised some doubts and 
 scruples in her, concerning the love of 
 God, and she addressed herself to the 
 author for the solution of her difficulties. 
 Several letters passed between them on 
 the subject, which were afterwards pub- 
 lished at the desire of Mr. Norris, and 
 with Mrs. Astell's consent, though she 
 did not put her name to these or any 
 other of her writings. 
 
 Notwithstanding her care to conceal 
 herself, her name was discovered by 
 some learned persons, and her letters 
 greatly applauded. 
 
 She continued to apply so diligently 
 to her studies, especially at this time to 
 the classic writers, that " when she saw 
 visiters coming, whom she knew to be 
 incapable of discoursing upon any useful 
 
MRS. MARY ASTE1,X,. 387 
 
 subject, but to come for the sake of chat 
 and tattle, she would look out at the 
 window, and jestingly tell them, 4 Mrs. 
 Astell is not at home ;' and in good 
 earnest keep them out, not suffering 
 such triflers to make inroads upon her 
 more serious hours." 
 
 In 1700, she wrote and published 
 a book, entitled, Reflections on Mar- 
 riage. It was thought that in this work 
 she carried her arguments for the birth- 
 rights and privileges of her sex rather 
 too far, nor is the reason assigned by her 
 biographer for this excess, such as to 
 make it seem more justifiable, for he ac- 
 counts for it by her disappointment in a 
 marriage contract wiHh an eminent cler- 
 gyman. On hearing that her book had 
 given some offence, she prefixed a pre- 
 face to the second edition, in which she 
 defended herself, it is said, with a great 
 deal of wit and smartness. 
 
 Continuing to support a character 
 which seems more fitted to a man than 
 to a woman, she courageously and suc- 
 cessfully attacked the sectaries who 
 were at this time carrying on designs 
 against the Church ; and whilst she en- 
 gaged the attention of the world by her 
 productions of this kind, she also wrote 
 refutations of heretical doctrines. 
 
 In spite of all her endeavours to con- 
 ceal herself, she was discovered to be 
 the author, by learned men, and receiv- 
 ed high commendations from Dr. Hickes, 
 Dr. John Walker, Mr. Dodwell, and 
 
388 MRS. MART ASTELL. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn, and others. Dr. Atterbury, 
 in a letter to Dr. Smallridge, gave this 
 account of his meeting with her : 
 
 " Dear George, 
 
 " I happened about a fortnight ago to 
 dine with Mrs. Astell. She spoke to me 
 of my sermon," (supposed to be one 
 which he preached, and afterwards 
 printed, against Bishop Hoadley's Mea- 
 sures of Moderation,) " and desired me 
 to print it, and after 1 had given her the 
 proper answer, hinted to me that she 
 should be glad of perusing it ; I com- 
 plied with her, and sent her the sermon 
 the next day. Yesterday she returned 
 it with this sheet of remarks, which I 
 cannot forbear communicating to you, 
 because I take them to be of an extra- 
 ordinary nature, considering that they 
 came from the pen of a woman. Indeed 
 one would not imagine a woman had 
 written them. There is not an expres- 
 sion that carries the least air of her sex 
 from the beginning to the end of it. She 
 attacks me very home you see. and art- 
 fully enough, under a pretence of taking 
 my part against other divines, who are 
 in Hoadley's measures. Had she had 
 as much good breeding as good sense, 
 she would be perfect ; but she has not 
 the most decent manner of insinuating 
 what she means, but is now and then a 
 little offensive and shocking in her ex- 
 pressions ; which I wonder at, because 
 a civil turn of words is what her sex is 
 
MRS. MART ASTELIi. 389 
 
 always mistress of. She, I think, is 
 wanting in it. But her sensible and ra- 
 tional way of writing makes amends for 
 that defect, if indeed any thing can 
 make amends for it. I dread to engage 
 her ; so I only writ a general civil an- 
 swer to her, and leave the rest to an 
 oral conference. Her way of solving 
 the difficulty of swearing to the queen 
 is very singular." 
 
 Her biographer defends her against 
 the bishop's charge of a want of civility 
 in her expressions, of which, he says, he 
 never heard her accused by any other 
 person. 
 
 She wrote several political pamphlets, 
 her principles being those of a loyal sub- 
 ject, but not of a nonjuror. She also 
 wrote a treatise on the Christian Reli- 
 gion, as professed by a daughter of the 
 Church of England, which was address- 
 ed by way of letter to a great lady. 
 This book is referred to by Dr. Water- 
 land, who, objecting to some points of 
 doctrine set forth by Dr. Tillotson, aids 
 in a note, that one of these points has 
 been modestly and judiciously examined 
 by an ingenious lady. 
 
 As much of her earlier life had been 
 spent in the advancement of learning and 
 virtue, so the latter part of it was chief- 
 ly employed in the practice of those re- 
 ligious duties which she had earnestly 
 recommended to others ; and although, 
 from the very flower of her age, she 
 lived and conversed with the gay world 
 
390 MRS. MARY ASTELL. 
 
 of London, yet she resisted its tempta- 
 tions, " and in the midst of it led a holy, 
 pure, and even angelical life. She did 
 not only approve things that are excel- 
 lent, but practised them also, and yet 
 her severe strictness of holy discipline 
 was not attended by sourness or morose- 
 ness of temper ; her mind being gen- 
 erally calm and serene, and her deport- 
 ment and conversation highly entertain- 
 ing, and innocently facetious. She 
 would say, « The good Christian only 
 has reason, and he always ought to be, 
 cheerful.' And that ' dejected looks and 
 melancholy airs were very unseemly in 
 a Christian.' But, though she was easy 
 and affable to others, to herself she was 
 severe ; she would live like a hermit, 
 for a considerable time together, upon a 
 crust of bread and water with a little 
 small beer. And at the time of her 
 highest living, (when she was at home,) 
 she very rarely eat any dinner till night, 
 and then it was by the strictest rules of 
 temperance. She would say, abstinence 
 was her best physic ; and would fre- 
 quently observe, that those who indulged 
 themselves in eating and drinking, could 
 not be so well disposed or prepared eith- 
 er for study, or the regular and devout 
 service of their Creator." 
 
 She seemed to enjoy an uninterrupted 
 state of health till a few years before 
 her death, when she was obliged to have 
 an operation performed for a cancer, 
 which she had long concealed. She 
 
MRS. MARY ASTELL. 391 
 
 then went to the Rev. Mr. Johnson, 
 eminent for his skill in surgery, with 
 only one person to attend her; she re- 
 fused to have her hands held, and show- 
 ed no timidity, but endured the pain 
 without a groan or a sigh. 
 
 " Her excellent friend, Lady Eliza- 
 beth Hastings, made use of Mr. Johnson 
 on the same occasion. This great lady's 
 friendship to Mrs. Astell continued in- 
 violable to the last date of her life ; and 
 well knowing that she did not abound in 
 riches, her generosity to her was such, 
 that she has given her fourscore guineas 
 at one time. " Her health and strength 
 now declined apace, and at length by a 
 gradual decay of nature, being confined 
 to her bed, and finding the time of her 
 dissolution draw nigh, she ordered her 
 coffin and shroud to be made, and 
 brought toher bedside, and there to re- 
 main in her view, as a constant memen- 
 to to her of her approaching fate, and 
 that her mind might not deviate or stray 
 one moment from God, its most proper 
 object. Her thoughts were now so en- 
 tirely fixed upon God and eternity, that 
 for some days before her death, she 
 earnestly desired that no company might 
 be permitted to come to her ; refusing at 
 that time to see even her old and dear 
 friend, the Lady Catherine Jones, pure- 
 ly because she would not be disturbed in 
 the last moments of her divine contem- 
 plations. She died the 11th of May, 
 1731, and was buried at Chelsea." 
 
392 
 
 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 This lady is described in the forty- 
 second number of the Tatler, under the 
 name of Aspasia. After speaking of the 
 ladies of that day who were wits, poli- 
 ticians, virtuosos, freethinkers, and dis- 
 putants, and showing how different they 
 were from the women of Shakspeare's 
 time, who were only mothers, sisters, 
 daughters, and wives, the paper goes 
 on : 
 
 44 But these ancients would be as 
 much astonished to see in the same age 
 so illustrious a pattern to all who love 
 things praiseworthy, as the divine As- 
 pasia. Methinks, I now see her walking 
 in her garden like our first parent, with 
 unaffected charms, before beauty had 
 spectators, and bearing celestial con- 
 scious virtue in her aspect. Her coun- 
 tenance is the lively picture of her mind, 
 which is the seat of honour, truth, com- 
 passion, knowledge, and innocence. 
 4 There dwells the scorn of vice, and pity too.' 
 
 44 In the midst of the most ample for- 
 tune and veneration of all that behold 
 and know her, without the least affecta- 
 tion, she consults retirement, the con- 
 templation of her own being, and that 
 Supreme Power which bestowed it. 
 Without the learning of schools, or 
 knowledge of a long course of argu- 
 ments, she goes on in a ^eady course of 
 uninterrupted piety and virtue, and adds 
 to the severity and privacy of the last 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 393 
 
 age, all the freedom and ease of this. 
 The language and mien of a court she is 
 possessed of in the highest degree ; but 
 the simplicity and humble thoughts of a 
 cottage are her more welcome entertain- 
 ments. Aspasia is a female philosopher, 
 who does not only live up to the resig- 
 nation of the most retired lives of the an- 
 cient sages, but also to the schemes and 
 plans which they thought beautiful, 
 though inimitable. This lady is the 
 most exact economist, without appearing 
 busy ; the most strictly virtuous, with- 
 out tasting the praise of it ; and shuns 
 applause with as much industry, as oth- 
 ers do reproach. This character is so 
 particular, that it will very easily be 
 fixed on her only, by all that know her ; 
 but I dare say, she will be the last that 
 finds it out." 
 
 This character was written in July, 
 1709, when she was in her twenty- 
 eighth year, and that published in Wil- 
 ford's Memorials, from the notices of her 
 after her death in the public prints, is in 
 as warm a strain of panegyric. 
 
 A more full account of her life is given 
 in an Historical Character relating to 
 the holy and exemplary life of the Right 
 Honourable the Lady Elizabeth Hast- 
 ings, written by Thomas Barnard, M.A,, 
 Master of the Free School at Leeds, 
 and dedicated to Francis Lord Hastings, 
 who was her principal heir. 
 
 From all that is recorded of her, it 
 would seem to be truly said in the Tat- 
 
394 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 ler, that she brought " the severity and 
 privacy of the last age," into " the free- 
 dom and ease" of that in which she lived. 
 
 She was the daughter to Theophilus, 
 seventh Earl of Huntingdon, by Eliza- 
 beth, daughter and co-heir of Sir John 
 Lewis, Bart., and was born on the 19th 
 of April, 1682. In her childhood she 
 was remarked for a sweetness of coun- 
 tenance, expressing at once dignity and 
 modesty, for an ingenuous temper, an 
 aptness of understanding, a tractable 
 will, and a devout frame of spirit which 
 early disposed her to an awful sense of 
 holy things. Her early years were 
 spent in a quiet and uniform way, and it 
 is said of her, that " she followed not the 
 world in its vain and trifling amuse- 
 ments, and things much worse than 
 them ; but kept close to her baptismal 
 vow, as she was progressively taught, 
 and understood it." 
 
 " A young lady of less severity of 
 manners than herself, invited her once 
 to an entertainment over a romance, and 
 most dear did she pay for it : what evil 
 tinctures she took from it I cannot tell ; 
 but this I can, that the remembrance of 
 it would now and then annoy her spirit 
 down into declining life. The little else, 
 after diligent inquiry, that can be col- 
 lected of her, to be inserted in this place, 
 is, that she affected privacy and retire- 
 ment, and was much in her closet in holy 
 employments ; that in some contrasts 
 between the earl her father, and Lord 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 395 
 
 Hastings her brother, her conduct was 
 such, that she preserved the kindness 
 and affection of both ; that after the 
 death of the former, and till the death of 
 the latter, she would be doing great 
 things with her fortune, when her abili- 
 ties were not so great." 
 
 Her father was after the Revolution 
 deprived of all his offices, and excluded 
 from the benefit of King William's Act 
 of indemnity, in May, 1690, two years 
 after which he was committed to the 
 Tower, upon alarm of an intended de- 
 scent upon the coasts, in favour of King 
 James. In 1701, he was one of the 
 peers who protested against the Act of 
 Settlement, and dying in the same year, 
 he was succeeded by George, his only 
 son by his first wife, then in his twenty- 
 fourth year. The son's political princi- 
 ples seem to have been different from 
 those of the father, since he carried the 
 sceptre at the coronation of Queen 
 Anne, and distinguished himself at the 
 sieges of Venlo and Ruremond. He died 
 unmarried in 1704, admired, it is said, 
 for his sweet and manly disposition. He 
 was succeeded by his half-brother, 
 Theophilus, the eldest of a family of two 
 sons and four daughters, but his only 
 whole sister was Lady Elizabeth, who 
 therefore inherited upon his death the 
 large estates which descended from their 
 mother. 
 
 When she thus became, at the age of 
 twenty-two, the mistress of a large for- 
 
396 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 tune, her character was necessarily 
 more known to the world, and she was 
 observed to be somewhat more than a 
 lady of great beauty and fine accom- 
 plishments, of condescension and good- 
 nature, and regular observance of reli- 
 gious duties. In order to increase that 
 stock of wisdom and knowledge which 
 she had laid in by her own endeavours, 
 and by assistance from the appointed 
 ministers under whom she lived, she 
 cultivated the friendship of such learned 
 men as Archbishop Sharpe, Mr. Nelson, 
 Dr. Lucas, and others, of which friend- 
 ships she spoke with joy more than 
 twenty years after the latest of these 
 holy men had left this world. 
 
 She obediently followed the counsels 
 which she received from them, doing 
 every thing which the rules of the Gos- 
 pel require, and taking nothing, using 
 nothing but what is allowed by it, nor 
 even so many things as are allowed. 
 
 Her residence was at Ledstone House, 
 a fine gray stone building, of the style 
 of Queen Elizabeth's reign, standing 
 upon a height which looks towards the 
 south, " beautiful," says her biographer, 
 " within doors and without," where she 
 spent the greater part of her life, dili- 
 gently employing her time there in 
 friendship for those who lived with her 
 as friends and neighbours, and chari- 
 ty to those who required her assist- 
 ance. 
 
 Her beauty and other attractions of 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 397 
 
 person, manners and accomplishments 
 were such, as without her large fortune 
 might easily inspire affection : but she 
 refused the offers of several among the 
 nobility, and chose to continue in a sin- 
 gle life, either it is supposed, that she 
 might make a wise and religious use of 
 her great estate, or accounting that a 
 single life naturally led to higher per- 
 fection. 
 
 Robert Nelson in one of his letters ap- 
 plied to her the text, • Many daughters 
 have done virtuously, but thou excellest 
 them all ;' and such praise from such a 
 man would seem to justify the enthusi- 
 astic tone adopted by her biographer, 
 though many of his expressions are too 
 high-flown to add to the real interest of 
 his narrative. Passing over therefore 
 his comparisons of her to ladies of for- 
 mer times, it is enough to say, that he 
 professes to receive his account of her 
 where it extended beyond his own know- 
 ledge, from several competent witnesses, 
 and especially from one who lived in 
 perfect intimacy with her, and had suffi- 
 cient penetration and fidelity to declare, 
 what could truly, soberly, and usefully 
 be said upon the subject. 
 
 In her conversation with men she 
 could penetrate their real characters, 
 and often detect errors in books by the 
 keenness of her judgment, as it once 
 happened that in a tract submitted to 
 her, she detected an important error 
 contained in a single word, which the 
 
398 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 author believed would have always es- 
 caped his own observation. 
 
 Her attendance and apparel were 
 such as became her station ; her support 
 of the body by meat, drink, and sleep, 
 was bounded by necessity, and the in- 
 tervals of sleep were employed in pious 
 meditations, or prudent thought as to the 
 duties of her Christian calling. She 
 studied the Word of God daily, that by 
 it she might amend her life ; other books 
 that she used were wisely chosen for 
 soundness of doctrine and sentiments. 
 She used her pen much, sometimes for 
 her own service, but more for the ser- 
 vice of others, and many of her papers 
 were destroyed by her own desire which 
 would have made her known more fully 
 than any other source of information 
 could. She began every day with sup- 
 plications, prayers, and intercessions in 
 private, praying with all earnestness, 
 and purity of heart, and throughout the 
 day she remembered the Eye of God 
 over her, raising up her soul to Him 
 with holy aspirations. Four times a 
 day all her family, who were not neces- 
 sarily engaged, assembled to attend 
 prayers, and chiefly the holy service of 
 the Church, read for the most part by 
 the established minister, or some other, 
 or else by one of the upper servants. 
 
 She delighted in public worship, and 
 constantly attended it, with a grave and 
 awful demeanour, free from affectation. 
 She watched strictly over her own heart 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 399 
 
 to keep it clear of evil mixtures, and the 
 taint of self-love, continually purifying 
 her heart by acts of faith in the Blood of 
 her Redeemer, by rating her own right- 
 eousness at nothing, by marking well, 
 and daily committing to writing all her 
 little slips, and washing them away with 
 tears of repentance, descending even to 
 vain imaginations, and such as happened 
 in her sleep ; " and for the expiation of 
 slips, and things less than they, (besides 
 prostrations, and other humiliations and 
 austerities,)" shedding abundance of 
 tears ; keeping her spirit moreover in a 
 recollected state, and herself in readi- 
 ness to lie down in death, even in the 
 midst of life, and in firm health. 
 
 She was careful and tender of her ser* 
 vants, and even of her cattle, and be- 
 sides providing for the temporal wants 
 of those who lived in her house, causing 
 every artificer employed by her to take 
 care of their comfort, and seeking gently 
 to lead them into ways of goodness and 
 religion ; she kept her house with great 
 elegance both within and without, that 
 her poor neighbours might not want em- 
 ployment. She practised charity both 
 by almsgiving, visiting and consoling 
 the sick and afflicted, receiving the poor 
 at her house, and sending sums of money 
 to a distance. 
 
 " Her still larger applications were 
 fixed pensions upon reduced families, 
 exhibitions to scholars in the Universi- 
 ties, the maintenance of her own Chari- 
 
400 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 ty School, her contributions to others, 
 disbursements to the Religious Societies 
 for Propagation of the Gospel in foreign 
 parts, and promoting Christian know- 
 ledge at home, for the erection, decora- 
 tion, and augmentation of churches ; add 
 to these, free and frequent remission of 
 debts, in cases of straitness or insol- 
 vency ; flowing plenty and all becoming 
 magnificence upheld in the house, and 
 acts of generosity to relations, friends, 
 and those that were neither." 
 
 Her rule was, to give the first place 
 to justice, the second to charity, and the 
 third to generosity. 
 
 To secure the doing justice, she paid 
 <£100 to the king, as it was only against 
 him, that through inadvertence, she 
 could have acted unjustly. Her charity 
 has been already said to be continued 
 and abundant, and of her generosity, in- 
 stances may be given, of c£500 a year 
 given to one relation, ^£3000 in money 
 to another, 300 guineas with large prom- 
 ises of more to a young lady, who had 
 impaired her fortune by engaging in the 
 South-sea scheme, and many others. 
 
 If it is asked how all this is done out 
 of an estate short of 663000 a year, much 
 of which yet remains to her family, it 
 can only be answered, that to him who 
 scattereth abroad is promised an increase, 
 and that this lady's economy, with the 
 simplicity of her own wants, allowed her 
 to give liberally ; " for they that walk in 
 the Spirit as she did, die progressively to 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 401 
 
 every vanity, and take coldness and in- 
 differency at the things that are without 
 them, and do not mind the things per- 
 taining to the flesh, none of its many 
 hurtful gratifications ; but chastise it, 
 and keep it under, as knowing it to be 
 the seat of their most dangerous and 
 deadly enemies." 
 
 She entered into society, but always 
 with a guard upon herself, which re- 
 strained her talents for conversation 
 within the bounds of religion, charity, 
 and courtesy, and enabled her dexter- 
 ously and pleasantly to introduce reli- 
 gious subjects, in which was her real de- 
 light. " At her table her countenance 
 was open and serene ; her speech soft 
 and musical ; her language polite, and 
 seasoned with salt. Her house and ta- 
 ble were generally adorned by some 
 parts of her family, whom she received 
 with true and tender affection ; she 
 would seek out any branches of her fam- 
 ily, who were in want or obscurity, and 
 inquire into the names and memories of 
 remote ancestors, informing herself of 
 their public benefactions, in order that 
 she might enlarge them. Her half- 
 brother, Ferdinand, died in 1726, in his 
 twenty-seventh year, and a character of 
 him is preserved in Wilford's Memo- 
 rials, where he is described as having 
 always lived in strictly moral and reli- 
 gious habits. Such appears to have 
 been the general character of the family, 
 and the Countess Selina traced her first 
 
402 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 strong religious impressions to Lady 
 Margaret, her sister-in-law, one of the 
 sisters of the second family. 
 
 Lady Elizabeth ever honoured the 
 priests of God for the sake of their of- 
 fice, and for her and their great Master. 
 " She lived in the Communion of the 
 Church of England, and never started 
 from it, so much as in thought, to her 
 dying day ; and though her conscience 
 was most tender and carefully instruct- 
 ed, and scruples sometimes occurred to 
 her in other matters, yet not one scruple 
 ever disturbed her about the lawfulness 
 of adhering to the Church of England. 
 She mourned deeply for any attempts 
 made to corrupt and overthrow the mys- 
 teries, the faith, any one of the essen- 
 tials, which, under authority of Scrip- 
 ture, are taught by our Church, and 
 would as much have dreaded to let an 
 infidel book approach her dwelling, as if 
 it had been the plague." 
 
 She was much interested in the habits 
 of those young men at Oxford, among 
 whom Methodism afterwards took its 
 rise, and she hoped for much good from 
 them whilst they avowed only sound re- 
 ligion as it is professed by the English 
 Church ; but when new doctrines were 
 introduced, and men were alienated 
 from their settled ministers, she was 
 among the foremost to remonstrate 
 against them. 
 
 About nine years before her death, 
 her brother Theophilus married Lady 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 403 
 
 Selina Ferrers, who was afterwards so 
 celebrated as the patroness of the Me- 
 thodists, and whose name is still pre- 
 served as the foundress of a sect amongst 
 them, called Lady Huntingdon's Chris- 
 tians. 
 
 One feature of Lady Elizabeth's char- 
 acter has not yet been mentioned, the 
 meekness with which she endured any 
 ill-treatment, or misbehaviour that con- 
 cerned only herself. Or if ever by 
 speech, by manner or otherwise, she 
 only suspected that she had caused dis- 
 turbance to others, she had no peace 
 with herself till she had restored their 
 peace, and would often ask forgiveness 
 from those, even of her inferiors, who 
 did not know what cause she had given 
 for asking it. 
 
 Mr. Barnard, in addressing his book to 
 Lord Hastings, then a boy, who was 
 nephew to Lady Elizabeth, and heir to 
 a great part of her estate, refers hope- 
 fully to the time when he shall be of an 
 age to reside at Ledstone, " where Lady 
 Betty hallowed one place by her pri- 
 vate, another by her public devotions ; 
 where, in her drawing-room, she main- 
 tained a visible pre-eminence over the 
 highest and finest of her sex ; or else- 
 where cast herself upon a level with the 
 lowest and meanest of them ; where, 
 without doors, in one verdant recess* 
 finding and adoring her Creator in all 
 things, she received the early approach- 
 es of the sun ; in another, attended upon 
 his going down." 
 
404 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 These praises were written after her 
 death, for during her life-time, he says, 
 that she could never endure to hear one 
 word in her own praise ; " and when all 
 the finest pens in the kingdom were in- 
 vited to display her worth, the design 
 miscarried, purely by her own opposi- 
 tion." 
 
 When she had entered her fifty-fourth 
 year, she began to suffer from a tumour, 
 produced by a hurt during her youth, 
 which till that time had caused her little 
 or no disturbance, but then increased so 
 dangerously that an eminent surgeon 
 decided upon the necessity of a most 
 painful operation for removing the evil. 
 
 It happened at the time when this was 
 made known to Lady Elizabeth, that a 
 neighbouring clergyman, (apparently 
 Mr. Barnard,) who had a correspond- 
 ence with one in the family, heard from 
 his friend of their being in affliction, 
 without mentioning the cause ; he judg- 
 ed however that it was of a serious 
 nature, and that it concerned Lady 
 Elizabeth, and wrote an answer as suit- 
 ably as he could, upon no other grounds 
 than his own conjecture ; " in his letter 
 he touched upon the necessity of suffer- 
 ings, setting forth briefly those that 
 Christ endured in the flesh ; that He will 
 bring all His followers into likeness of, 
 and conformity to Himself in all things; 
 that sufferings were the way to His per- 
 fection, and must be to ours, and are the 
 expressly declared condition of our be^ 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 405 
 
 ing glorified with Him, the truest marks 
 and characteristics of our adoption ; the 
 most sovereign medicines that come 
 from Heaven for all our latent sickness." 
 
 This letter was shown to Lady Eliza- 
 beth, and with more emotion than was 
 usual to her, she said, "she would not 
 wish to be out of her present situation 
 for all the world, nor exchange it for any 
 other at any price." For indeed in her 
 former life she had often expressed some 
 uneasiness that her own sufferings, ac- 
 cording to her reckoning of them, should 
 be little or none ; and one who had a 
 station under her, not unskilled in this 
 kind of knowledge, believed that the 
 mighty torrent of sufferings which broke 
 in upon her at the last was for this pur- 
 pose, among others, to solace her spirit, 
 and to strengthen her assurance that she 
 had every mark and token of her favour 
 and acceptance with God. 
 
 She continued her every clay life with 
 great meekness and tranquillity, without 
 any change in her temper, in serenity 
 and cheerfulness, till the time appointed 
 for the operation, sitting loose and indif- 
 ferent for life or death, as is expressed 
 in the prayer which Mr. Barnard com- 
 posed for her use upon this occasion. 
 
 " O my God ! again I humble myself 
 before Thy footstool, in deep and hearty 
 acknowledgments, that Thou art right- 
 eous in all Thy ways, and Holy in all 
 Thy works ; and that Thou of very faith- 
 fulness hast caused me to be troubled. 
 m 2 
 
406 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 " I bless and praise Thee for all Thy 
 mercies, which from my youth up, until 
 now, have embraced me on every side. 
 
 ** And shall I receive all this abun- 
 dant good from Thee, and shall I not re- 
 ceive some evil ? Yes, O my God ! I 
 will not only receive it, but bless and 
 praise Thee, for calling me to this trial 
 of my patience and submission to Thy 
 blessed will ; for this gracious pledge 
 and token of Thy love ; for this Thy 
 wholesome medicine for the sickness, 
 decays, and pollutions of my spirit ; and 
 above all, that Thou art pleased more 
 and more, to transform me into the like- 
 ness of thy blessed Son, who was a man 
 of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. 
 
 " O ! do Thou, for His sake, for the 
 sake of Thy Beloved and mine, in whom 
 Thou hast wrought for us most plen- 
 teous redemption, do Thou, who alone 
 art able, bring me out of this furnace of 
 affliction, and grant, that either for life 
 or death, according as Thy good plea- 
 sure shall appoint for me, I may come 
 out of it as gold purified seven times in 
 the fire. 
 
 " Be Thou my strength, and my sup- 
 port, and of all those that shall be about 
 me in the hour when we shall stand in 
 greatest need of Thy presence ; and 
 drive from me and from them, both then 
 and for ever, ever} 7 fear that is injurious 
 to the fear of offending Thee. 
 
 " And when anguish shall come upon 
 me, and the iron shall enter into my 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 407 
 
 soul, Oh ! then imprint upon my spirit 
 the blessed Hands and the Feet, that 
 were pierced for me ; and for Thy tender 
 mercy's sake, sweeten my bitter cup 
 with some sense and feeling of the in- 
 conceivable sufferings of my dear Re- 
 deemer ; that I may even then, so far as 
 Thou shalt enable me, behold and see 
 that for my sake, and for the sake of 
 sinful man, no sorrow was ever like His 
 sorrow. 
 
 M And if this sickness shall be unto 
 death, then let me say, if not with the 
 resignation that He did, yet with all the 
 resignation that I can, 4 Not my will, but 
 Thine be done.' 
 
 44 That so, receiving the just punish- 
 ment due to my sins, and Thy whole 
 wrath against them in this life, the im- 
 mortal spirit which Thou hast given me, 
 and which by the adorable methods of 
 Thy Grace and Providence, Thou hast 
 fitted up for Thy service, and made so 
 strong for Thy own self, may attain 
 what I pant and long, and am athirst 
 for, even the enjoyment of Thee forever 
 and ever, in and through Jesus Christ 
 our Lord. 
 
 44 And as I pray for myself, so do 
 Thou open and enlarge my heart, and 
 continue to me the same holy desires 
 for all mankind, in the most acceptable 
 words of Thy blessed Son,' 4 Our Fa- 
 ther,' " &c. 
 
 She endured the trial with unflinch- 
 ing courage and patience, becoming her 
 
408 LADT ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 desire to be likened by sufferings to her 
 Lord, and on the following night, though 
 unable to sleep, she rested in thankful- 
 ness to her God for the support He had 
 afforded her, and for the many blessings 
 she enjoyed, offering up her heart in 
 love, gratitude, and adoration. 
 
 She recovered sooner than had been 
 expected, so far as to be able to resume 
 her former mode of life, though with 
 some variety of employments, in all of 
 which she intended the glory of God or 
 the good of mankind. 
 
 She saw how useful a handmaid 
 learning is to religion, and indeed was 
 far from being herself without taste and 
 knowledge forjudging of books general- 
 ly, whilst in practical divinity and things 
 pertaining to the direction of conscience, 
 she seldom formed an erroneous judg- 
 ment. She considered then, how she 
 might promote the advancement of learn- 
 ing ; and as she knew that she must con- 
 tinue in a weakly state of health, she 
 became anxious to secure without delay 
 the fulfilment of her good purposes ; to 
 this end she digested, improved, enlarg- 
 ed and altered several schemes and pro- 
 visions, using therein her own industry 
 and wisdom. 
 
 Indeed, so far was she from relaxing 
 her diligence as she approached the end 
 of her pilgrimage, that in spite of her 
 bodily weakness she seemed rather to 
 quicker, her pace, increasing in the fer- 
 vour of her prayers, and abundance of 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 409 
 
 her alms, as earnestly as if now only- 
 she was beginning to turn to God and to 
 repent as death drew near, for her hun- 
 ger and thirst after righteousness still 
 stimulated her. 
 
 The care and labour which she gave 
 to the disposing of her estate was sup- 
 posed to have been too much for her 
 strength, and that now failed her rapid- 
 ly. The disease, only repressed for a 
 time, returned with fresh malignity, 
 and induced the fear that she might be 
 called to a repetition of her former suf- 
 fering, to which she looked forward 
 with the same patience as before, and 
 with a prospect of death and of happi- 
 ness growing nearer to her. For several 
 months she was unable to turn herself in 
 her bed. and her appetite failed her ; yet 
 still she had strength for prayer, and it 
 appeared that not one hour passed with- 
 out it. 
 
 She did all she could to comfort her 
 household by her cheerfulness, and 
 grateful acceptance of their attentions to 
 her, passing by mistakes or neglects 
 without notice. 
 
 She wrote letters,, to her friends, or 
 dictated them when she became unable 
 to write, full of sweet counsel, whilst 
 many came to her house to see her and 
 hear her last words ; for she engaged 
 those about her in heavenly conference, 
 as long as she had strength to speak, and 
 preserved her attention to the speech of 
 others when her strength was gone. 
 
410 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 She delighted in the society of holy 
 persons, and the mutual warmth and 
 light imparted by communion with them. 
 The more need she had herself of com- 
 fort, and even in the necessary increase 
 of her expenses, she sought the more to 
 assist those in need, saying often to such 
 as were about her, " Where is there a 
 poor member of Christ whom I can 
 comfort and refresh ?" 
 
 About this time she sent forty guineas 
 to a gentleman imprisoned for debt, at 
 Roth well, whom she had never seen, but 
 had only heard of his distress, and some 
 words in his favour. 
 
 For several months she was unable to 
 attend public worship, from which she 
 never had been kept by any trifling hin- 
 derance ; indeed, even after her illness 
 she continued to go, when wanting sleep, 
 and apt to suffer from cold ; but when it 
 became impossible for her to reach the 
 church, she had the service read at home 
 daily, and the holy sacrament adminis- 
 tered to her every Sunday, thus hanging 
 to the last upon her Holy Mother the 
 Church, from whom she had received 
 such healthful nourishment throughout 
 her life. 
 
 She now suffered less pain, and indeed 
 less complaint, than could have been ex- 
 pected ; and by careful attendance her 
 sufferings were alleviated as far as pos- 
 sible. Her faith in her Saviour had now 
 been growing for more than fifty years, 
 and in Him was her trust that He would 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 411 
 
 finish the work He had begun in her, 
 and accept her, notwithstanding all her 
 imperfections. She waited His time, 
 and wished that if it might be allowed 
 her, she should live to see her charities 
 established by law. Her careful medical 
 friend, Dr. Johnson, directed all his skill 
 to effect this; and it so happened, that 
 she survived the legal and necessary 
 time by seven or eight days. 
 
 About six hours before her death, she 
 summoned, for the sake of her household, 
 those especially who had seldom seen her 
 in the time of her long illness, to strength- 
 en and enforce every thing that she had 
 done, or shown them before, by her dy- 
 ing counsels. She had wished in like 
 manner to take leave of the whole vil- 
 lage, but was restrained by her physi- 
 cian ; and being anxious to have the last 
 offices of the Church administered to 
 her in the most solemn and regular man- 
 ner, she set aside the services of two or 
 more excellent clergymen, then in the 
 house, and sent for the vicar of the par- 
 ish, whom she had held in honour for 
 twenty years. 
 
 When this last service was performed, 
 her soul seemed to receive some of the 
 happiness of heaven ; her eyes, though 
 languishing under years and sickness, 
 shone bright as diamonds, (as one said, 
 who was present,) and all who looked on 
 were amazed at the transport now grant- 
 ed to her spirit. She broke out with a 
 T °i«ed accent into words such as these % 
 
412 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 44 Lord ! what is it that I see ? O, the 
 greatness of the glory that is revealed in 
 rne — that is before me !" And some 
 time after she had so said, she fell asleep. 
 
 The directions for her charities, in 
 which she had laboured so much, and 
 which she had lived to complete, are 
 very full and minute. She gave a manor 
 to Queen's College, Oxford, for main- 
 taining and qualifying five poor scholars, 
 to be elected by lot from schools in 
 Yorkshire, Westmoreland, and Cumber- 
 land. Of their being chosen by lot, she 
 says in the codicil containing her in- 
 structions, " Though it may be called 
 by some superstition or enthusiasm, yet 
 as the advice was given me by an ortho- 
 dox and pious prelate of the Church of 
 England, as leaving something to Prov- 
 idence ; and as it will be a means to save 
 the scholars the trouble and expense of a 
 journey to Oxford under too great an 
 uncertainty of being elected, I will this 
 method of balloting be for ever ob- 
 served." 
 
 She enters into particulars respecting 
 the length of time appointed to the ex- 
 hibitions, which five years were intended 
 to take away from the scholars li all 
 necessity of entering precipitately into 
 holy orders, and'to give them an oppor- 
 tunity of laying in some sort a sound 
 foundation of divine as well as human 
 learning." She therefore directs, "that 
 for the first four years they shall apply 
 themselves to the study of arts and sci- 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 413 
 
 ences, according to the rules of their 
 College, and employ the fifth year wholly 
 in Divinity, Church History, and the 
 Apostolical Fathers, in the original 
 tongues. It is also required, that from 
 their first admission to the College, they 
 should spend one hour every morning in 
 the study of the Holy Scriptures, writ- 
 ing their own explanations of such pas- 
 sages as their tutors shall direct ; and 
 that before the end of their fourth year 
 they shall translate such a portion of St. 
 Chrysostom's book, De Sacerdotio, as 
 their tutors appoint, or make an abstract 
 of the whole." 
 
 There are further instructions, with a 
 view to secure their being fully prepared 
 for holy orders, as well as for examining 
 them as boys, before they leave their 
 schools ; and details regarding the pay- 
 ment from her estates. 
 
 In the directions for her Perpetual 
 Charities, she enters into particulars re- 
 specting the provisions for her Charity 
 Schools, "wheels for spinning, and other 
 implements of housewifery, seeds and 
 plants for the garden, and a man to take 
 care of it," &c. In these schools a cer- 
 tain number of girls were to be main- 
 tained and educated ; sums of money 
 were also left for other village schools, 
 amounting in all to a great number, for 
 repairing and beautifying churches, for 
 building parsonage houses, for the Prop- 
 agation and Christian Knowledge Socie- 
 ties, for the infirmary at York, for aug- 
 
414 LADT ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 mentation of vicarages, and other char- 
 itable purposes, all being left in the 
 hands of trustees, to be paid out of cer- 
 tain estates specified. She was a great 
 benefactress to the church of Leeds, and 
 appointed a lecture sermon to be preach- 
 ed there " upon some festival, at the 
 latter end or beginning of each month, 
 (so that it be before the first Lord's day,) 
 that it may serve also as a preparatory 
 sermon for the blessed sacrament." 
 
 She was buried in the family vault, 
 near her grandfather, Sir John Lewis, 
 on January 7th, 1739, being, when she 
 died, in her fifty-eighth year, " and was 
 attended to the grave by the charity 
 children and old people of her alms- 
 houses, above a hundred tenants on 
 horseback, and ten clergymen," besides 
 her four half sisters, and several of her 
 friends and relations. 
 
 The following character of Lady Eli- 
 zabeth Hastings, taken from the public 
 prints, is given in Wilford's Memorials. 
 
 " The splendour she derived from her 
 birth and extraction, though great, strikes 
 but faintly among the numerous and 
 shining qualities of this most excellent 
 lady. Graceful was her person, genteel 
 her mien, polite her manners, agreeable 
 her conversation, strong and piercing 
 her judgment and understanding, sacred 
 her regard to friendship, and strict to the 
 last degree her sense of honour ; but 
 could all these be painted in the liveliest 
 
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 415 
 
 colours, they would make but the lowest 
 part of her character, and be rather a 
 shade and abatement than add any lustre 
 to it. For what is infinitely above all, 
 she did justice, loved mercy, and walked 
 humbly with her God. The whole 
 Christian religion was early planted in 
 her heart, which was entirely formed 
 and fashioned by it. She learned it from 
 the Sacred Scriptures, and the faithful 
 depository of everlasting truths, the 
 Church of England, whose genuine 
 daughter she was, and bore towards our 
 dearest Mother as inviolable devotions 
 as even those whose names shine amongst 
 the martyrs. 
 
 Her life had chiefly for its directions 
 two great objects : how she might exalt 
 the glory of God, and how demonstrate 
 her own goodwill towards men. The 
 first she sought by employing all her 
 power and capacities for His honour and 
 service, and whatever related to it was 
 ever in motion and never discontinued, 
 but so far as the weakness of human na- 
 ture made it necessary. Her supplica- 
 tions and prayers, intercessions and giv- 
 ing of thanks, as they were directed to- 
 wards heaven, so being discharged of 
 every weight and encumbrance, and 
 cleansed from every impurity and alloy, 
 they easily ascended thither, and the 
 holy flame was rarely suffered to lan- 
 guish, never to go out. Her benevolence 
 to her fellow creatures was such, as the 
 good angels are blessed with, warm and 
 
416 LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 
 
 cherishing, wide and unbounded. Thous- 
 ands and ten thousands has she comfort- 
 ed and relieved, many has she enriched 
 and advanced, and the collective mass of 
 mankind daily had her blessings and her 
 prayers. 
 
 Such was the late Lady Elizabeth 
 Hastings : not after the gayety of youth 
 was over, and the gratifications of it be- 
 came deadened by much using, but in its 
 early beginning through all the stages 
 of life, down to its most glorious conclu- 
 sion. And well may it be called so : for 
 make what demand you will of every 
 virtue in its full height and stature that 
 can be thought of or wished for, to crown 
 a life in every thing excellent, and the 
 same might have been seen exemplified 
 in her last long and tedious sickness. 
 Her patience under God's visitation, and 
 her absolute resignation to His will ; the 
 continual labour and travail of her soul 
 for the enlargement of His kingdom and 
 the increase of His glory ; her heaviness 
 and mourning for the sins of other men ; 
 her unwearied study and endeavours for 
 their recovery and eternal welfare ; her 
 generous and charitable appointments ; 
 her tender and affectionate expre..3ions 
 to her relations, her friends, and servants, 
 and her grateful acknowledgments to her 
 physicians, and to those who more im- 
 mediately attended upon her, would re- 
 quire pages to set them in a proper light. 
 In short, it may be affirmed without ex- 
 cess, that scarce any age or country of 
 
LADY MAYNARD. 417 
 
 later times has presented to the world a 
 person that was a greater blessing to 
 many, and a more illustrious pattern to 
 all." 
 
 These Notices would seem to conclude 
 suitably with a part of Bishop Ken's 
 Sermon on Lady Maynard. (See page 
 50.) 
 
 11 All this while I have not done jus- 
 tice to my subject, by affirming in gen- 
 eral, that goodness is honourable : I must 
 therefore be more particular, and inquire 
 why Solomon does here instance in the 
 woman rather than in the man, ' A gra- 
 cious woman retains honour.' 
 
 " And the reason seems to me to be 
 either this, that as vice is more odious 
 and more detested, so on the other hand, 
 virtue is more attractive, and looks more 
 lovely in women than it usually does in 
 men, insomuch that the ' gracious wo- 
 man' shall be sure to purchase, and to 
 ' retain honour.' 
 
 " Or it is, because men have more 
 advantages of aspiring to ' honour' in all 
 public stations of the Church, the court, 
 the camp, the bar, and the city, than 
 women have ; and the only way for a 
 woman to gain honour, is an exemplary 
 holiness ; this makes her children rise 
 
418 LADY MATWARD. 
 
 up and call her blessed, her husband and 
 her own works to praise ' her in the 
 gate ;' the sole glory then of that sex is 
 to be good, for it is a 'gracious woman* 
 only who ' retains honour.' 
 
 " Or it is, because women are made 
 of a temper more soft and frail, are more 
 endangered by snares and temptations, 
 less able to control their passions, and 
 more inclinable to extremes of good or 
 bad than men, and generally speaking, 
 goodness is a tenderer thing, more haz- 
 ardous and brittle in the former than in 
 the latter, and consequently a firm and 
 steady virtue is more to be valued in the 
 weaker sex than in the stronger ; so that 
 a * gracious woman ' is most worthy to 
 receive and to ' retain honour.' 
 
 " Or it is, because women in all ages 
 have given many heroic examples of 
 sanctity ; besides those recorded in the 
 Old Testament, many of them are named 
 with great honour in the New, for their 
 assiduity and zeal in following our Sa- 
 viour, and their charity in ministering to 
 Him of their substance ; they accompa- 
 nied Him to Mount Calvary, lamented 
 His sufferings, waited on the cross, at- 
 tended the sepulchre, prepared spices 
 and ointments ; and regardless, either of 
 the insolence of the rude soldiers, or of 
 the malice of the Jews, with a love that 
 cast out all fear, they came on the first 
 day of the week, before the morning 
 light, to embalm Him ; and God was 
 pleased to honour these holy women ac- 
 
LADY MATNARD. 419 
 
 cordingly, for they first saw the angel, 
 who told them the joyful news that He 
 was risen ; and as if an angel had not 
 been a messenger honourable enough, 
 Jesus Himself first appeared to the 
 women, the women first saw and adored 
 Him ; and it was those very gracious 
 women whom our Lord sent to His dis- 
 ciples, that women might be first pub- 
 lishers of His Resurrection, as angels 
 had been of His Nativity. Our Saviour 
 Himself has erected an everlasting mon- 
 ument in the Gospel, for the penitent 
 woman that anointed Him ; and God In- 
 carnate honoured the sex to the highest 
 degree imaginable, in being born of a 
 woman, in becoming the Son of a Vir- 
 gin-mother, whom all generations shall 
 call blessed ; and I know not how to call 
 it, but there is a meltingness of disposi- 
 tion, and affectionateness of devotion, an 
 easy sensibility, an industrious alacrity, 
 a languishing ardour in piety, peculiar 
 to the sex, which naturally renders them 
 subjects more pliable to the Divine Grace 
 than men commonly are ; so that Solo- 
 mon had reason to bestow the epithet 
 gracious, particularly on them, and to 
 say, that a 'gracious woman retaineth 
 honour.' " 
 
 THE EN»c