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STUDENT'S HISTORICAL SERIES. 
 
 LIVES OF 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 FROM THE NORMAN CO^nQUEST. 
 
 By a G N E > STRICKLAND, 
 
 ' AUTHOR OF "lives OF THE QUEENb <c- SCOTLAND." 
 
 REVISED AND EDITED BY 
 
 CAROLINE G. PARKER. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 
 / 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 FRANKLIN SQUARE. 
 
 I 8 6 7. 
 

 Entered, according to "Act of Congre?-, in the year one thousand eight hundred and 
 Kixty-seven, by Harper & Brothers, in the Clerk's 0*Wce of the District Court of the 
 Southern District of New YorV. 
 
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 LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 By AGNES STRICKLAND. 
 
 DEDICATED BY GRACIOUS PERMISSION 
 
 TO 
 
 HER MAJESTY 
 
 ^\)t (Duccu. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 An epitome of the " Lives of the Queens of England," 
 for the use of schools and families, has frequently been 
 demanded by persons desirous of communicating historical 
 information to youthful students. The interest with 
 which intelligent children invariably seize on these royal 
 biographies, affords a very cogent reason for the prepara- 
 tion of an abridged edition expressly for the use of that 
 numerous and interesting class of readers, to whom some 
 of the more delicate facts of history require to be present- 
 ed in a modified form. 
 
 Every thing necessary to render the "Lives of the 
 Queens" pleasing and instructive for scholastic purposes 
 has been retained in this volume, and carefully chronolo- 
 gized. 
 
 The whole series of biographies comprises a domestic 
 history of England from the Norman Conquest to the 
 death of Queen Elizabeth, and of Great Britain from the 
 accession of James I. to the present time, in which all im- 
 portant public events are related. Eeference to the au- 
 thorities will be found in the Library Edition of the 
 "Queens of England," with the portraits and autographs 
 of the queens. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Historical Introduction . 9 
 
 Matilda of Flanders, Queen of William the Conqueror , . 13 
 
 Matilda of Scotland, First Queen of Henry I. .... 24 
 
 Adelicia of Louvaine (Surnamed the Fair Maid of Brabant), Second 
 
 Queen of Henry I. ........ . 3G 
 
 Matilda of Boulogne, Queen of Stephen . , . . . 43 
 
 Eleanora of Aquitaine, Queen Consort of Henry II. . . . 54 
 
 Berengaria of Navarre, Queen Consort of Richard I. ... 67 
 
 Isabella of Angouleme, Queen Consort of King John . . 77 
 
 Eleanor of Provence, (Surnamed La Belle), Queen of Henry III. . 84 
 Eleanor of Castile (Surnamed the Faithful), First Queen of Edward I. 95 
 Marguerite of France, Second Queen of Edward I. . . . 102 
 
 Isabella of France, (Surnamed the Fair), Queen of Edward II. . 110 
 
 Philippa of Hainault, Queen of Edward III. .... 124 
 
 Anne of Bohemia (Surnamed the Good), First Queen of Richard II. 134 
 Isabella of Valois (Surnamed the Little Queen), Second Queen Con- 
 sort of Richard 11 140 
 
 Joanna of Navarre, Queen of Henry IV. . . . . .147 
 
 Katharine of Valois (Surnamed the Fair), Consort of Henry V. 154 
 
 Margaret of Anjou, Queen of Henry VI. ..... 164 
 
 Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of Edward IV. 
 
 Anne of Warwick, Queen of Richard III. .... 
 
 Elizabeth of York (Surnamed the Good), Queen Consort of 
 
 VII 
 
 Katharine of Arragon, First Queen of Henry VIII. 
 
 Anne Boleyn, Second Queen of Henry VIII. 
 
 Jane Seymour, Third Queen of Henry VIII. . 
 
 Anne of Cleves, Fourth Queen of Henry VIII. 
 
 Katharine Howard, Fifth Queen of Henry VIII. 
 
 Katharine Parr, Sixth Queen of Henry VIII. 
 
 Mary, First Queen Regnant of England and Ireland 
 
 Elizabeth, Second Queen Regnant of England and Ireland . . 371 f~ 
 
 Anne of Denmark, Queen Consort of James I., King of Great 
 
 Britain 419 
 
 lenry 
 
 183 
 197 
 
 205 
 215 
 233 
 269 
 
 278 
 295 
 315 
 344 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Henrietta Maria, Queen Consort of Charles I., King of Great Britain 436 
 Catharine of Braganza, Queen Consort of Charles II., King of Great 
 
 Britain 468 
 
 Mary Beatrice of Modena, Queen Consort of James II., King of 
 
 Great Britain and Ireland . 484 
 
 Mary II., Queen Eegnant of Great Britain and Ireland . . 541 
 
 Anne, Queen Regnant of Great Britain and Ireland . . 581 
 
 Sophia Doi-othea of Zell, Consort of George I., King of Great Britain 
 
 and Ireland 628 
 
 Caroline Wilhelmina Dorothea of Auspach, Consort of George II., 
 
 King of Great Britain and Ireland ..... 634 
 
 Charlotte Sophia, Consort of George III., King of Great Britain and 
 
 Ireland 646 
 
 Caroline of Brunswick, Consort of George IV., King of Great Britain 
 
 and Ireland .......... 656 
 
 Adelaide of Saxe Coburg Meiningen, Consort of William IV., King 
 
 of Great Britain and Irel.nnd ...... 667 
 
 Victorin, Queen Regnant of Great Britain and Ireland . . . 672 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Queen of Euglaucl is either queen-regnant, queen-con- 
 sort, or queen-dowager. The first of these is a female sov- 
 ereign reigning in her own right, and exercising all the 
 functions of regal authority in her own person — as in the 
 case of her majesty Queen Victoria, who ascended the throne 
 both by rightful inheritance and the consent of the people. 
 Xo other princess has been enthroned in England under such 
 auspicious cii'cumstances as the pi-esent sovereign lady. 
 Mary I. was not recognized without bloodshed. Elizabeth's 
 title was disputed. Mary 11. was only a sovereign in name, 
 and as much dependent on the will of her rayal husband as 
 a queen-consort. The Archbishop of Canterbury forfeited 
 the primacy of England for declining to assist at her corona- 
 tion or to take the oaths. 
 
 The queen-regnant, in addition to the cares of government, 
 has to preside over all the arrangements connected with 
 female royalty, which, in the reign of a married king, devolve 
 on the queen-consort; she has, therefore, more to occupy her 
 time and attention than a king, for whom the laws of En- 
 gland expressly provide that he is not to be troubled with 
 his wife's affairs like an ordinary husband. 
 
 There have been but three unmarried Kings of England, 
 "William Rufus, Edward Y., and Edward YI. 
 
 The Queens of England, beginning the series with Ma- 
 tilda, the wife of William the Conqueror, are forty in num- 
 ber, including her majesty Queen Victoria, the present sove- 
 reign, and Adelaide, the late queen-dowager. 
 
 Of these, five are queen-regnants, or sovereigns, and thu'ty- 
 five qiieen-consorts. Our present series begins, not accord- 
 
 A* 
 
10 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 ing to rank, but chronological order, with the queen-consorts, 
 of whom there were twenty-six, before a female monarch 
 ascending the throne combined in her own person the high 
 office of Queen and Sovereign of England. 
 
 The earliest British queen named in history is Cartisman- 
 dua, who, though a married woman, appears to have been the 
 sovereign of the Brigantees, reigning in her own right. This 
 was about the year 50. 
 
 Boadieea, or Bodva, the warrior-queen of the Iceni, suc- 
 ceeded her deceased lord, King Prasutagus, in the regal 
 office. Speed gives us a curious print of one of her coins, in 
 his chronicle. The description of her dress and appearance 
 on the morning of the battle that ended so disastrously for 
 the royal Amazon and her country, is remarkably pictur- 
 esque : 
 
 "After she had dismounted from her chariot, in which she 
 had been driving from rank to rank to encourage her troops, 
 attended by her daughters and her numerous army, she pro- 
 ceeded to a throne of marshy turfs, appareled after the fash- 
 ion of the Romans, in a loose gown of changeable colors, 
 under which she wore a kirtle very thickly plaited, the 
 tresses of her yellow hair hanging to the skirts of her dress. 
 About her neck she wore a chain of gold, and bore a light 
 spear in her hand, being of person tall, and of a comely, 
 cheerful, and modest countenance ; and so awhile she stood, 
 pausing to survey her army, and being regarded Avith rever- 
 ential silence, she addressed to them an impassioned and 
 eloquent sjDeech on the wrongs of her country." The over- 
 throw and death of this heroic princess took place in the 
 year 60. 
 
 There is every reason to suppose that the common law of 
 England, attributed to Alfred, was by him derived from the 
 laws first established by a British queen. "Martia," says 
 Holinshed, " surnamed Proba, or the Just, was the widow of 
 Gutiline, King of the Britons, and was left protectress of the 
 i-ealm during the minority of her son. Perceiving much in 
 the conduct of her subjects Avhich needed reformation, she 
 devised sundry wholesome laAvs, Avhioh the Britons after her 
 death named the Martian statutes. Alfred caused these laAvs 
 to be restored in the realm." 
 
INTRODUCTION. ] l 
 
 Among the queens of the Saxon Heptarchy we hail the 
 nursing mothers of the Christian faith in Enghmcl. Tlie 
 first and most illustrious of these queens was Bertha, the 
 daughter of Cherebert, King of Paris, who had the glory of 
 converting her pagan husband, Ethelbert, the King of Kent, 
 to Christianity. Her daughter, Ethelburga, was in like 
 manner the means of inducing her valiant lord, Edwin, King 
 of Northumbria, to embrace the Christian faith. Eanfled, 
 the daughter of this illustrious pair, afterward the consort 
 of Oswy, King of Mercia, was the first individual who re- 
 ceived the sacrament of baptism in Northumbria. 
 
 In the eighth century, the consorts of the Saxon kings were 
 excluded by a solemn law from sharing in the honors of roy- 
 alty, because Queen Edburga had poisoned her husband 
 Brihtric, King of Wessex ; and even when Egbert consolida- 
 ted the kingdoms of the Hej^tarchy into an empire, of which 
 he became the Bretwalda, or sovereign, his queen Redburga 
 was not permitted to participate in his coronation, 
 
 Osburga, the first wife of Ethelwulph, and the mother of 
 the great Alfred, was also debarred from that honor; but 
 when, on her death, Ethelwulph espoused the beaiitiful and 
 accomplished Judith, the sister of the Emperor of the Franks, 
 he violated this law, by placing her beside him on the King's 
 Bench, and allowing her a chair of state and all the other 
 distinctions to which her high birth entitled her. Elfrida, 
 the fair and false queen of Edgar, did not possess the talents 
 necessary to the accomplishment of her design of seizing the 
 reins of government, after she had assassinated her unfortu- 
 nate step-son At Corfe Castle. 
 
 Emma of Normandy, the beautiful queen of Ethelred, and 
 afterward of Canute, plays a conspicuous part in the Saxon 
 annals. The manner in which she sacrificed the interests of 
 her children by her first husband, Ethelred, to those by her 
 second unnatural marriage with the Danish conqueror, is 
 little to her credit, and was certainly never forgiven by her 
 son, Edward the Confessor; though that monarch, after he 
 had witnessed the triumphant manner in which she cleared 
 herself of the charges brought against her by her foes, by 
 passing through the ordeal of walking barefoot, unscathed, 
 over nine red-hot ploughshares in Winchester Cathedral, 
 
12 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 threw himself at her feet in a transpoi-t of filial penitence, im- 
 plored her pardon with tears, and submitted to the disci- 
 pline at the high altar, as a penance for having exjjosed her 
 to such a test. 
 
 Editha, the consort of Edward the Confessor, was not only 
 an amiable but a learned lady. The Saxon historian, Ingul- 
 phus, himself a scholar at Westminster monastery, close by 
 Editha's palace, affirms that the queen used frequently to in- 
 tercept him and his school-fellows in her walks, and ask them 
 questions on their progress in Latin ; or, in the words of his 
 translator, " moot points of grammar with them, in which 
 she oftentimes posed them." Sometimes she gave them a 
 piece of silver or two out of her own purse, and sent them to 
 the palace buttery to breakfast. She was skillful in the 
 Avorks of the needle, and embroidered the garments of her 
 royal husband, Edward the Confessor, with her own hands. 
 
 Editha, surnamed the Fair, the consort of the unfortunate 
 Harold, whom she married after the death of her first hus- 
 band, Griffith, Prince of North Wales, was the last Saxon 
 queen. 
 
 A more important position in tlie progressive tableau of 
 history is occupied by the royal ladies who form the series 
 of the mediaeval queens, beginning with Matilda of Flan- 
 ders, the consort of William the Conqueror, the mother of a 
 mighty line of kings, whose august representative, Queen 
 Victoria, at present wears the crown of the Britannic 
 empire. 
 
LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 fW^r'Z^^x 
 
 *"""ia 
 
 Silver Penny of William I. From specimen in the British Museum. 
 
 MATILDA OF FLANDEES, 
 
 QUEEN OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 Matilda, the consort of the first Norman sovereign of En- 
 gland, was the direct descendant of Alfred the Great, through 
 marriage of her ancestor, Baldwin II., Count of Flanders, with 
 Elstrith, the daughter of that most illustrious of our kings. 
 Matilda was the daughter of Baldwin V., Count of Flanders, a 
 powerful and wise sovereign. Her, mother was Adelais, daugh- 
 ter of Robert I., King of France. Matilda was born about the 
 year 1031, and became no less celebrated for her accomplish- 
 ments than for the grace and beauty of her person. Her skill 
 in needlework was remarkable, and this was then considered 
 the most desirable acquirement that could be possessed by 
 ladies of high rank. The skill of the four sisters of King Ath- 
 elstan in embroidery, spinning, and weaving, obtained for those 
 royal spinsters the addresses of the greatest princes in Europ'b. 
 The fame of their excellent stitchery is, however, all that re- 
 mains of the industry of Matilda's Saxon cousins, but her own 
 great work, the Bayeux tapestry, is still in existence. 
 
 Matilda was sought in marriage by several princes, but she 
 had bestowed her affections on a young Saxon noble named 
 Brihtric, and surnamed, from the fairness of his complexion, 
 Meaw, or Snow. He was the Lord of Gloucester, and King 
 Edward the Confessor's envoy at the court of Flanders. His 
 rank and wealth would have rendered him a fitting consort for 
 Matilda, but he did not return her love. Meantime her 
 charms and noble qualities attracted the attention of the most 
 Avarlike prince of the time — AYilliam of Normandy. Seven 
 years did his courtship continue. At last, infuriated by her 
 
14 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1044-1050. 
 
 making a detracting observation on liis birtli, be attacked ber 
 in Bruges, close to her fatlier's palace, returning from church 
 Avith ber ladies. He struck her, and spoiled ber rich array 
 by rolling her in the mud ; then springing on liis horse, rode 
 off at full speed. Matilda's partiality for Brihtric Meaw bad 
 perhaps more to do with her refusal of William of Normandy 
 than the low birth of bis mother Avherewitb she taunted him. 
 Her father, incensed at William's outrageous conduct, made 
 fierce war on bim, but suffered not a little in the contest, for 
 the mighty Norman was never slack at retaliation. To the 
 surprise of every one, the victor renewed his suit for the liand 
 of the fair Matilda, and she caused still greater astonishment 
 by courteously accepting bim. The reason she gave was, 
 " that she thought the duke must be a man of the highest 
 courage and most daring spirit, to come and beat her in ber 
 father's city." Baldwin V. lost no time in concluding the 
 marriage, giving his daughter a great portion in lands, money, 
 rich jewels, and costly ari-ay. Matilda and William were mar- 
 ried at Cliateau d'Eu, in Normandy. He conducted her with 
 her parents in triumphant progress to Rouen, the capital of 
 his duchy, where she made ber public entry as bis bride. 
 Matilda's and William's bridal mantles, garnished with jewels, 
 together with his helmet, were long preserved in the treasury 
 of Bayeux Cathedral. 
 
 Nothing could be more perilous than the position of Wil- 
 liam's affiiirs at the time of bis marriage Avitb Matilda of Flan- 
 ders. A formidable party was arraying itself against him in 
 bis own dominions, in favor of his cousin, Guy of Burgund}^ 
 who as the legitimate descendant of Richard II., Duke of Nor- 
 mandy, boasted a better right to the dukedom than William, 
 the son of the late Duke Robert, by Arlotta, the skinner's 
 daughter of Falaise. William bad from the hour of bis birth 
 been considered a child of singular promise ; be was regarded 
 with peculiar interest by the Normans, although his only claim 
 to the succession was derived from paternal favor. Duke 
 Robert, seeing what a goodly child be was, and having no 
 other, bad called his nobles together in the Hotel de Ville at 
 Rouen previous to his departure to the Holy Land, publicly 
 acknowledged bim as l)is son, and required tbera to swear 
 fealty to the boy as liis successor. William, then only seven 
 years old, was brought in to receive their liomage. Duke 
 Robert took bim up in his arms and presented him to the no- 
 bles as their future sovereign, with these words, "He is little, 
 but he will grow." 
 
 Having received their pledge, Duke Robert took liis son to 
 
lUr.O-lOGS.] MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 15 
 
 Paris, where he mnde him perform the same homage to tlie 
 King of France as if he were Duke of Normandy, and thus se- 
 cured tlie paramount sovereign's recognition of young Wil- 
 liam's title to the succession of the ducal throne. 
 
 Duke Robert then departed on a pilgrimage to the Holy 
 Land, from which he never returned. William completed his 
 education at the court of Henry I. of France, where he re- 
 mained till the Normans sent delegates to Paris to claim him 
 as their duke. The King of France sooii after invaded his do- 
 minions, but William, assisted by Raoul de Gale and Roger de 
 Beaumont, bravely defended Normandy, and displayed mili- 
 tary genius which quickly made him the terror of all his foes. 
 His fortunate marriage with Matilda, who Avas Henry's niece 
 and a direct descendant of the dukes of Normandy, greatly 
 strengthened his cause ; but Manger, the Archbishop of Rouen, 
 protested that the marriage between William and Matilda was 
 illegal, as the parties were too nearly related, and excommuni- 
 cated them. William appealed to the Pope, who nullified the 
 archbishop's sentence, and gnanted a dispensation to establish 
 the marriage, on condition of their eacli building and endow- 
 ing an abbey at Caen, and founding an hospital for the blind. 
 These conditions were joyfully complied with ; and Matilda 
 possessing considerable taste for architectitte, took great de- 
 light in the progress of the stately fones of St. Stephen and 
 the Holy Trinity. She was a munificent patroness of the fine 
 arts, and afibrded liberal encouragement to men of learning. 
 Normandy, so long impoverished by foreign wars, noAv tasted 
 the blessings of repose. The domestic happiness enjoyed by 
 William and Matilda Avas very great. Shortly after their mar- 
 riage he entrusted the government of Normandy to her care, 
 Avhile he crossed over to England to visit his friend and kins- 
 man King Edward the Confessor. King Edward received 
 him with much aflfection, and, if William's subsequent state- 
 ment is to be credited, promised to adopt him as his successor 
 to the throne of England. 
 
 In due time Matilda gave birth to a prince, whom William 
 named Robert, after his well-remembered father. Richard, 
 William Rufus, Cecilia, Agatha, Constance, Adela, Adelaide, 
 and Gnndred, followed in quick succession. They were all 
 children of ,beauty and promise, and were carefully educated 
 under their mother's superintendence. Meantime Harold, 
 brother to Edith, Queen of England, while on a voyage of 
 pleasure, had been stranded by rough weather on the coast of 
 Ponthien. Earl Guy, the sovereign of that comitry, seized and 
 immured him in pi-ison, in the hope of obtaining a large ran- 
 
16 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [lOGG, 
 
 som. Harolcrs brother Tostig was married to Judith, daugh- 
 ter to the Earl of Flanders and sister to Matilda, so William 
 compelled the Earl of Ponthieu to release the prisoner and send 
 liira to Normandy, where he was received with apparent 
 friendship, and betrothed to one of the daughters of the duke 
 and duchess. William then informed Harold that King Ed- 
 ward had promised to make him his successor to the English 
 crown, and extorted from his reluctant guest a solemn oath to 
 assist in bringing that purpose to effect. 
 
 When the news of King Edward's death and Harold's as- 
 sumption of the royal office reached Normandy, William was 
 transported with rage ; especially as Harold had broken his 
 contract to the little Norman princess, and married Editha, 
 widow of Griffith, Prince of Wales, the sister of the two pow- 
 erful earls, Morcar and Edwin. These circumstances deter- 
 mined William to invade England, and assert his claims as the 
 successor to the realm adopted by King Edward. Previously 
 to his departure to join his ships and troops assembled at the 
 port of St. Vallery, William invested Matilda with the regency 
 of Normandy, and associated their eldest son Robert with her 
 in this dignity. 
 
 Matilda, who had prepared an agreeable surprise for hei* 
 lord, arrived at St. Vallery in a splendid vessel of war called 
 the Mora, which she had caused to be built, unknown to him, 
 and magnificently adorned for his acceptance. 
 
 William embai'ked and led the way over the deep in the 
 Mora, which by day was distinguished by a blood-red flag, and 
 at night carried a beacon at her mast head, to guide the other 
 ships. Rough weather occurred on the voyage, but only two 
 vessels were lost. The Norman fleet made the port of Peven- 
 sey, on the coast of Sussex, September 29, 1066. The knights 
 and archers landed first ; last of all came the duke, who, stum- 
 bling as he leaped to shore, measured his majestic height npon 
 the beach. "An evil sign is here," exclaimed the superstitious 
 Normans. But the duke, who in recovering himself had filled 
 his hands with sand, cried in a cheerful voice, "I have seized 
 England with my two hands, and that which I have seized I 
 will maintain." Harold was then at York, rejoicing in the vic- 
 tory he had just won at Stanford Bridge, where his traitor broth- 
 er Tostig and the invading King of Norway, Hardrada, had 
 been defeated and slain. The new peril that impended over Eng- 
 land was announced to Harold by a Saxon knight, who had rid- 
 den night and day to bring these alarming tidings : " The Nor- 
 mans have landed at Hastings and built up a fort, and they will 
 vend the land from thee and thine unless thou defend it well." 
 
1066.] MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 17 
 
 Harold sent envoys to bribe William to depart, but in vain ; 
 so taking active measures for defense, be marcbed rapidly to 
 the coast of Sussex, and planted his standard at a spot seven 
 miles from Hastings called Heath field, the site of the town of 
 Battle. The momentous conflict which transferred the realm 
 of England to the Norman conqueror was fought on the 14th 
 of October, the birthday of Harold the last Saxon king. Wil- 
 liam had drawn up his army in five divisions, himself com- 
 manding that in which the knights and nobles of Normandy 
 were embodied. His fine appearance when mounted at their 
 head is thus described by one of his captains : " Never have 
 I seen a man so fairly armed, who rode so gallantly and bore 
 his lance so gracefully. There is no other such knight under 
 heaven; let him fight and he will overcome, and shaiue be to 
 him that fails him." Taillefer, the warrior-minstrel of Nor- 
 mandy, rode at the head of the chivalry, singing the war-song 
 of Rollo as the battle joined. It was desperately contested, 
 William had three horses killed under him. Harold, after j^er- 
 forming prodigies of valor, was slain by a random arrow en- 
 tering his brain through his eye. 
 
 The victorious duke pitched his tent that night in the field 
 of the dead at Senlac. William never called that fatal vale by 
 any other name than Sanguelac, or the lake of blood. Sixty 
 thousand men had been engaged on his side ; one-fourth at 
 least were slain. With Harold fell all the nobility of the 
 south, and men too numerous to be computed. 
 
 The coronation of William, the mighty forefather of our 
 present line of sovereigns, was solemnized in Westminster Ab- 
 bey on Christmas Day. A violent conflagration broke out in 
 the neighborhood just as Aldred, Archbishop of York, placed 
 the crown on his head ; a fierce tumult without followed 
 among the Norman troops stationed to guard the abbey, nor 
 could they be pacified till their beloved chief came out of the 
 abbey and showed himself to them in his coronation robes and 
 diadem. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Matilda, the duchess Regent of Normandy, received the 
 joyful news of her lord's success while engaged in her devo- 
 tions in the suburban Church of Notre Dame near St. Sever. 
 After returning thanks to the God of battles for the victory, 
 she ordered that the church and priory should henceforth be 
 called "Our Lady of Good Tidings." 
 
18 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [10G7. 
 
 Matilda had governed Kormandy during the absence of her 
 lord with great prudence and skill. It is, however, sad to re- 
 cord that the first exercise of her power as Queen of England 
 leaves a dark stain upon her memory. In vengeful remem- 
 brance of the slight she had received from Brihtric Meaw be- 
 fore her marriage, she obtained from William the grant of all 
 his possessions, and caused the unfortunate Saxon thane to be 
 arrested and conveyed to Winchester, Avhere he died in prison. 
 
 William re-embarked for Normandy in March, 1067, to re- 
 join Matilda and their children. They all met at Fescamp 
 with great joy. William was accompanied by Edgar Athel- 
 ing, the rightful heir of England, and many Anglo-Saxon no- 
 bles. He took infinite pride in displaying his spoils, especially 
 the rich embroidery in bullion and colored silks wrought by 
 the skillful hands of the English ladies; a formidable revolt in 
 England compelled William to leave Matilda before Christmas, 
 after reappointing her and their son Ilobert regents of Nor- 
 mandy. He sailed from Dieppe, returned to London, and 
 presently quelled the insurrection. He then sent for Matilda 
 and their children to England. She joyfully obeyed the wel- 
 come summons, crossed the sea with her family and attend- 
 ants, and arrived in England soon after Easter. She proceed- 
 ed immediately to Winchester, wliere she was joyfully wel- 
 comed by her victorious loixl. William appointed her conse- 
 cration as Queen of England to be solemnized on Whit Sun- 
 day at Winchester. 
 
 The coronation of a queen was a direct innovation of the 
 customs of England, for on account of the crime of Edburga, 
 in poisoning her husband Brihtric, King of Wessex, a solemn 
 law debarred the consorts of Anglo-Saxon kings from sharing 
 in the honors of royalty. The wife of the king was simply 
 styled " The Lady his Companion." William the Conqueror, 
 however, chose to be recrowned at Winchester, and that Ma- 
 tilda should participate in his coronation as his consort. His 
 will prevailed, for he was in a position to command. The 
 beauty of the queen and her five children pleased the people, 
 and the royal solemnity went ofii" without any interruption. 
 The nobles of Normandy attended Matilda to the church, but 
 after Aldred had crowned her she was served by the English, 
 her new subjects. 
 
 The first occasion on which the oifice of champion was in- 
 stituted was at her coronation at Winchester. During the 
 banquet a bold cavalier named Marmion, armed cap-d-pie^ 
 rode into the hall and pronounced this challenge three several 
 times: " If any person denies that our sovereign lord William 
 
1068-1074.] MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 19 
 
 and liis spouse Matilda are King and Queen of England, be is a 
 false-hearted traitor and liar, and I, as champion, do here chal- 
 lenge hiui to single combat." No person accepted the chal- 
 lenge, and Matilda was ever after called la reine. Siie gave 
 birth the same year to a fourth son, Henry, afterward surnained 
 Beauclerc. The people of the land regarded the English-born 
 prince with far greater favor than his three elder brothers, 
 
 Matilda now commenced her pictorial chronicle of the con- 
 quest of England, the Bayeux tapestry. It is a most impoi-- 
 tant historical document, in which the events and costume of 
 that momentous period are faithfully presented to us by the 
 industrious fingers of our first Norman queen, assisted by the 
 daughters of the land. In the cathedral of Bayeux, where it 
 is still preserved, it is called " the tapestry of Queen Matilda." 
 It is a piece of canvas nineteen inches wide, but upward of 
 sixty-seven yards in length, on which is worked, in cross- 
 stitch, the events from Harold's arrival in Normandy to his 
 death at Hastings — many hundred figures of men, horses, 
 birds, trees, houses, castles, churches, and ships are there de- 
 picted. It is supposed to have been designed for Matilda by 
 Turold, a dwarf artist, wlio, moved by a natural desire of 
 claiming his share in the celebrity which he foresaw would at- 
 tach to the work, has cunningly introduced his own eftigies 
 and name, thus confirming the Norman tradition that he was 
 the person who illuminated the canvas with the figures and 
 colors in preparation for the work. 
 
 While in England, Matilda received from the city of Lon- 
 don oil for her lamp, wood for her hearth, and imports on 
 goods landed at Queenhithe, with many other immunities 
 which modern queens do not venture to claim. Her table 
 was furnished at the daily expense of forty shillings. Twelve 
 pence each was allowed for the maintenance of her hundred 
 attendants. 
 
 Nothing gave greater offense to the English than the es- 
 tablishment of the curfew bell, which was the signal for ex- 
 tinguishing fires and lights in every house at eight o'clock. 
 It was an old Norman custom, and not without its use in 
 preventing conflagrations in wooden houses. 
 
 The frequent revolts of the English compelled William to 
 provide for the safety of his queen and family by taking them 
 back to Normandy, where Matilda was very popular, and con- 
 ducted the regency ably, William rejoined her in Norman- 
 ~dy in the year 1074, and remained with her till the following 
 year, when their eldest daughtei', the Lady Cecilia, was pro- 
 fessed a nun at the abbey of Fescamp. 
 
20 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1075-1077. 
 
 CHAPTER III, 
 
 The excessive partiality of Matilda for her eldest son Rob- 
 ert, suruamed Courthose, produced jealous I'ivalry between 
 liim and bis younger brothers, William Rufus and Henry. 
 While the royal family was at the castle of L'Aigle, William 
 and Henry threw some dirty water from the balcony of an 
 upper apartment on Robert and his partisans, who were walk- 
 ing in the court below. Robert being just then in an irrita- 
 ble frame of mind, drew his sword and rushed up stairs, with 
 a threat of taking deadly vengeance on the youthful oiFenders, 
 Nothing but the appearance and authority of the Conqueror, 
 who hearing the uproar, burst into the room with a drawn 
 sword in his hand, prevented fatal consequences resulting from 
 this rude joke. Robert withdrew from the court in sullen 
 displeasure. 
 
 Matilda obtained an interview between her husband and son, 
 but it did not produce the reconciliation she had hoped for 
 Robert assumed a high tone, and reminded his father that he 
 had promised to invest him with the duchy of Normandy and 
 the earldom of Maine. " It is not my custom to strip till I go 
 to bed," replied the Conqueror. Robert made an insolent re- 
 joinder, and quitted the royal presence in anger. 
 
 When under the pressure of pecuniary difficulties, Robert 
 applied, to his too indulgent mother, who supplied him with 
 large sums of money from her private resources, and when 
 these were exhausted by the increasing demands of her prod- 
 igal son, she sold her jewels and rich garments for the same 
 purpose, even when Robert had taken up arms against his 
 father and sovereign. William was in England when the start- 
 ling intelligence reached him of the rebellion of his first-born, 
 and the aid extended to him by Matilda, 
 
 There was a stern grandeur, not unmixed with tenderness, 
 in the reproof which he addressed to his offiiindiug consort on 
 this occasion. " The observation of a certain philosopher is 
 true," said he, " and I have only too much cause to admit 
 the force of his words — The woman who deceives her hus- 
 band is the destruction of her house. Where in all the world 
 could you have found a companion so faithful and devoted in 
 
1078.] MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 21 
 
 his aftectioii ?" continued he, passionately. "Beliokl my wife, 
 she whom I have loved as my own soul, to whom I have con- 
 fided the government of my realms, my treasure, and all that 
 I possessed in the world, of power and greatness — she hath 
 supported mine enemy against me — she hath strengthened and 
 enriched him from tlie wealth which I entrusted to her keep- 
 ing — she hath secretly employed her zeal and subtlety in his 
 cause, and done every thing she couldto encourage him against 
 me !" Matilda's reply to this touching appeal is no loss remai-k- 
 able for its impassioned eloquence, than for the subtlety with 
 which she evades the principal point on which she is pressed, 
 and entrenches herself in the strong ground of maternal love. 
 "My lord," said she, ''I pray you not to be surprised if I 
 feel a mother's tenderness for her first-born son. By the vir- 
 tue of the Most High, I protest that if my son Robert were 
 dead and hidden far from the sight of the living, seven feet 
 deep in the earth, and that the price of my blood could re- 
 store him to life, I would cheerfully bid it flow. For his sake 
 I would endure any suftering, yea, things from which on any 
 other occasion the feebleness of my sex would shrink with 
 terror. How can you then suppose that I could enjoy the 
 pomp and luxuries with which I am surrounded, when I knew 
 tliat he was pining in want and misery ? Far fi'om my heart 
 be such hardness, nor ought your authority to impose such in- 
 sensibility on a mother." 
 
 Robert gave battle to his father in 1077, at Archembraye ; 
 defeated and unhorsed him in a ch.ance medley encounter, but 
 fortunately recognized him in time to escape the crime of par- 
 ricide. He knelt and besought his forgiveness, mounted him 
 on his own horse, and led him safely out of the conflict. Moved 
 by Robert's penitence, and the incessant tears and pleading 
 of Matilda, the Conqueror consented to pardon and admit him 
 to his presence. Robert came to Rouen attended only by three 
 persons, made his submission, and a general reconciliation 
 took place. Robert consented to accompany his father to 
 England, and assisted in the defense of the northern counties 
 against Scotland. Matilda never saw him again. Soon after 
 parting with Robert, she had the grief of losing her second 
 daughter, Constance, Duchess of Bretagne. 
 
 The year 1078 was remarkable for the great national sur- 
 vey of England, which, by William's order, was then com- 
 menced, and entered in two volumes, entitled the Great 
 Domesday Book and the Little Domesday Book. 
 
 Matilda's latter years were spent in Normandy ; they 
 were embittered by fresh difi^erences between her eldest son 
 
22 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1083-1087. 
 
 nnd her husband. Mental uneasiness brought on the linger- 
 ing illness which conducted her to the grave. William, 
 when informed of her danger, hastened from England, and 
 arrived at Caen in time to receive her last sigh. She expired 
 in November, 1083, in the fifty-second year of her age. She 
 was interred in the Church of the Holy Trinity at Caen. A 
 magnificent tomb was raised to her memory by her lord. 
 Her will is in the register of that abbey. 
 
 The portraits of William and Matilda were long preserved 
 on the walls of St. Stejihen's chapel at Caen, and are engraved 
 in Montfau9on. Matilda's costume is singularly dignified 
 and becoming. Her roba is simply gathered round the 
 throat, a flowing veil falls from the back of her head on her 
 shoulders; it is confined to her brow by a regal diadem, an 
 open circlet of gems. The face is beautiful and delicate, the 
 liair falls in waving tresses round her throat; with one hand 
 she confines her drapery and holds a book ; she extends her 
 sceptre with the other. She bore four sons and six daugh- 
 ters to her royal lord. Her second son, Richard, Avas killed 
 some years before her death by a stag in the New Forest. 
 William Rufus and Henry reigned successively in England. 
 Robert died in prison. Adela, the fourth daughter of Matil- 
 da, married Stephen, Earl of Blois, and was the mother of 
 King Stephen. 
 
 The loss of his beloved Queen Matilda was passionately la- 
 mented by William the Conqueror. His death, four years aft- 
 er her decease, was caused by his horse setting his foot on a 
 l^iece of burning timber, at the storming of the city of 
 Mantes, starting and flinging him against the pommel of the 
 saddle, which produced violent fever and inflammation. He 
 died at the village of Hermentrude, near Rouen, September 
 9, 1087, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. 
 
 William the Conqueror was remarkable for his personal 
 strength and the majestic beauty of his co.untenance. No 
 one but himself could bend his bow. Like Saul, he was 
 from the shoulders upward taller than liis subjects. He was 
 buried in the Church of St. Stephen, at Caen. When Chas- 
 tillon took Caen in 1562, the Calvinist soldiers broke open . 
 his tomb, hoping to meet with a treasure. Finding nothing 
 but his bones, they flung them rudely about the church. 
 The spoilers threw down the monument of Queen Matilda in 
 the Church of the Holy Trinity, broke her efiigies, opened 
 her cofiin, took a sapphire ring from her finger, and gave it 
 to the abbess. The bones were collected, and the tombs of 
 Matilda and the Conqueror restored in 1642 ; but the French 
 
1083.] 
 
 MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 
 
 23 
 
 Republicans at the close of the last century paid a destructive 
 visit to the Church of the Holy Trinity at Caen, and swept 
 away the monumental memorial of the royal foundress 
 
 Church of St. Stephen, at (Jaeu. FouudtU Uy VVilliaiii the (Jonqueror. 
 
24 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1092. 
 
 MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 FIRST QUEEN OF HENRY I. 
 
 Matilda is the only princess of Scotland who ever shared 
 the throne of a King of England. Her mother, Margaret Ath- 
 eling, was the granddaughter of the Saxon King Edmund 
 Ironside, the offspring of a marriage between his son Edward 
 Atheling, and Agatha, a Hungarian princess, his consort. Ed- 
 gar Atheling, Margaret's brother, feeling some reason to mis- 
 trust the apparent friendship of the Conqueror, privately with- 
 drew from his court in 1068, took shipping with Margaret, 
 their yottngest sister Christina, and their mother, intending 
 to seek a refuge in Hungary with their royal maternal kin- 
 dred ; but by stress of weather, the vessel in which they, with 
 many other English exiles, Avere embarked, was driven into 
 the Frith of Forth. Malcolm Canmore, the young unmarried 
 King of Scotland, who had just regained his dominions from 
 the usurper Macbeth, happened to be present when tlie royal 
 fugitives landed, and was so struck with the beauty of the la- 
 "dy Margaret Atheling, that he asked her in marriage of lier 
 brother. Edgar joj^fully gave the hand of the dowerless prin- 
 cess to the Scottish sovereign, who had received the English 
 exiles most honorably. 
 
 Matilda, the subject of this memoii', was the eldest daughter 
 of Malcolm Canmore and Margaret Atheling; she was born 
 about the year 1077. Robert, the eldest son of the Conquer- 
 or, was her godfather. His campaign in the north of England, 
 against Newcastle, made him King Malcolm's guest; thus he 
 became the sponsor of the infant Princess Matilda. Some his- 
 torians assert that the name of the little princess was origi- 
 nally Editha, and that it was, out of compliment to the Norman 
 prince her godfather, changed to Matilda, the name of his be- 
 loved mother. The young Scottish princess received her ear- 
 liest lessons of virtue and piety from her illustrious mother, and 
 of learning from the worthy Turgot, her chaplain, who was 
 preceptor of the royal childi-en of Scotland. There appears to 
 have been an attempt, on the part either of the queen her moth- 
 er, or her aunt Christina Atheling, Abbess of Romsey, to con- 
 secrate Matilda to the Cliurch, greatly to the displeasure of her 
 
]0'J2.] MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 25 
 
 fatlier, who meant, as lie said, to give hev in marriage, and not 
 to devote her to a cloister. Her royal sire was killed at the 
 siege of Alnwick Castle, by the treachery of the besieged, who 
 offered to surrender if the Scottish king would receive the 
 keys in person. Malcolm coming to the gates, was there met 
 by a knight bearing the keys on the point of a lance, which 
 he offered to the king on his knee ; but when Malcolm stooped 
 to receive them, he treacherously thrust the point of the lance 
 through the bars of his visor into his eye, and gave him a mor- 
 tal wound. His brave son Edward was killed, with two 
 younger sons, fighting to revenge this treacherous murder. 
 This was heavy news to pour into the anxious ear of the wid- 
 owed queen, who then lay on her death-bed attended by her 
 daughters Matilda and Mary. 
 
 The dying Queen Margaret consigned the spiritual guardian- 
 ship of her children to Turgot. He was one of the best writ- 
 ers of his time, and has preserved the words with which she 
 gave him this important charge ; they will strike an answer- 
 ing chord on the heart of every mother. " Farewell !" she 
 said. " My life draws to a close, but you may survive me long. 
 To you I commit the charge of my children. Teach them, 
 above all things, to love and fear God ; and if any of them 
 should be permitted to attain to the height of earthly grand- 
 eur, oh ! then, in an especial manner, be to them a father and 
 a guide. Admonish, and if need be, reprove them, lest they 
 should be swelled Avith the pride of momentary glory, and by 
 I'eason of the prosperity of this world, offend their Creator 
 and forfeit eternal life. This, in the presence of Him who is 
 now our only witness, I beseech you to promise and perform." 
 
 Donald Bane (the brother of Malcolm Canmore), soon after 
 the disastrous defeat and death of that king and his eldest son, 
 seized the throne of Scotland, and commnnded all the English 
 exiles, of whatsoever degree, to quit the kingdom under 
 pain of death. Edgar Atheling, Matilda's uncle, then convey- 
 ed to England the orphan family of his sister, the Queen of 
 Scotland, consisting at that period of five young princes and 
 two princesses. He supported Matilda, her sister and broth- 
 ers, who Avere all minors, privately, from his own means. Wil- 
 liam Rufus treated Edgar and his adopted family with friend- 
 ship. The princesses Matilda and Mary were placed by their 
 uncle in the nunnery of Romsey, of which his surviving sister, 
 Christina, was abbess; for the princes "he obtained an honor- 
 able reception at the court of William Rufus, Avho eventually 
 sent him at the head of an army to Scotland, with which the 
 Atheling succeeded in re-establishing the young King Edgar, 
 
 B 
 
26 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1094-1100. 
 
 eldest brother of Matilda, on the throne of his ancestors. Ma- 
 tilda and her sister were a long time pupils among the nuns. 
 They were instructed by them, not only in the art of reading, 
 but in the observance of good manners. They had no home or 
 hope but the cloistei-, and yet they were not professed as nuns. 
 
 When Matilda grew xip she was removed to Wilton Abbey, 
 but still under the superintendence of the Abbess Christina, her 
 aunt. It was in fact the same abode where the royal virgins 
 of her race had always received their education. While in 
 these English convents, the Scottish princess was compelled to 
 assume the thick black veil of a votaress, as a protection from 
 the insults of the lawless Norman nobles. The Abbess Chris- 
 tina, her aunt, who was exceedingly desirous of seeing her 
 beautiful niece become a nun professed, treated her very harsh- 
 ly if she removed this cunabrous and inconvenient envelope, 
 which was composed of coarse black cloth or serge ; some say 
 it was a tissue of horse hair. The imposition of the black veil 
 was considered by Matilda as an intolerable grievance. She 
 Avore it, as she herself acknowledged, with sighs and tears in 
 the presence of her stern aunt ; but the moment she found her- 
 self alone she flung it on the ground and stamped it under her 
 feet. During the seven years Matilda resided at Wilton nun- 
 nery she was carefully instructed in all the learning of the age, 
 of which she afterward became, like her predecessor Matilda 
 of Flanders, a most munificent patroness. She was also great- 
 ly skilled in music, for which her love amounted almost to a 
 passion. 
 
 Matilda received two proposals of marriage while in her 
 nunnery ; one from Alan, Duke of Bretagne, a mature suitor, 
 who demanded her in marriage of his brother-in-law, William 
 Rufus, and obtained his consent; but he was prevented by 
 death from fulfilling his engagement. Had it been other- 
 wise, Matilda's only refuge from this ill-assoi-ted union would 
 have been the irrevocable assumption of the black vail. The 
 other candidate was the young and handsome William War- 
 ren, Earl of Surrey, the son of the Conqueror's youngest 
 daughter Gundred, the favorite nephew of William Rufus, 
 and the most powerful of the baronage of England and Nor- 
 mandy. It seems strange that Matilda should have preferred 
 a lengthened sojourn in her cloister to a union with a hand- 
 some and wealthy prince of the reigning family, unless her 
 refusal of Warren may be regarded as a confii-mation of the 
 statements of Eadmer, her contemporary, and other ancient 
 chroniclers, as to "the special love" that existed between 
 Henry, younger son of the Conqueror, and Matilda, during 
 
1100.] MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 27 
 
 the season of their mutual adversity, for Henry was a land- 
 less dependent at his brother's court. The nunnery of Wilton 
 was not far from Winchester, the principal seat of the Nor- 
 man sovereign ; and when we reflect on the great intimacy 
 which subsisted between Matilda's uncle, Edgar Atheling, and 
 the sons of the Conqueror, it appears by no means improbable 
 that Prince Henry miglit have accompanied him in some of his 
 visits to his royal kinswomen, and even liave enjoyed the op- 
 portunity of seeing Matilda without her veil. The learned 
 Hildebert, her friend and correspondent, has celebrated her 
 personal charms in the Latin poems which he addressed to 
 her both before and after her mai-riage. The Norman chron- 
 icle declares that she was a lady of great beauty, and much be- 
 loved by Henry, who was regarded by the people of the land 
 with complacency, from the circumstance of his being an En- 
 glish-born prince. But his poverty and dependence exposed 
 him occasionally to the sneers of the wealthy Norman barons, 
 more especially of his kinsman and rival Warren, who took 
 occasion, from his swiftness in pursuit of the forest game, 
 "which ofttimes," says the chronicle of Normandy, "he, for 
 lack of horse or dog, followed on foot, to bestoAV the name of 
 ' Deer's-foot' on the landless prince." Henry was in his thirty- 
 second year when the glancing aside of Wat Tyrrel's arrow 
 made him King of England. He was hunting in the New Forest 
 when the cries of William Rufus's attendants proclaimed the 
 fatal accident that had befallen their royal master, and the 
 hasty flight of the unlucky marksman by whose erring shaft 
 he had died. 
 
 Prince Henry made the best of his way to Winchester and 
 secured the royal treasury. He hastened to London, and Avas 
 crowned, August 5th. Before the regal circlet was placed on 
 his brow, " Henry, at the high altar at Westminster, prom- 
 ised to God and the people," says the Saxon Chronicle, " to an- 
 nul the unrighteous acts that were established in his brother's 
 reign, and he was crowned on that condition." Henry complete- 
 ly secured his popularity with the English people by declaring 
 his resolution of wedding a princess of the blood of Alfred, who 
 had been brought up and educated among them. Accordingly 
 he demanded Matilda of her brother Edgar, King of Scotland. 
 The proposal was exceedingly agreeable to that monarch ; but 
 the Abbess Christina, Matilda's aunt, whose Saxon prejudices 
 could not brook the idea that the throne of the Norman line 
 of sovereigns should be strengthened by an alliance with the 
 royal blood of Alfred, protested "that her niece was a veiled 
 nun, and that it would be an act of sacrilege to remove her 
 
28 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1100. 
 
 from her convent." Henry's heart was set upon the marriage, 
 but he dared not venture to outrage popular opinion by wed- 
 ding a consecrated nun. In this dilemma he wrote a pressing 
 letter to the learned Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, who 
 had been unjustly despoiled of his revenues by William Ru- 
 fus, and was then in exile at Lyons, entreating him to return 
 and render him his advice and assistance. Anselm summoned 
 a council of the Church at Lambeth, for the purpose of enter- 
 ing more fully into this important question. Matilda made 
 her appearance before the synod, and v^'as interrogated, in the 
 presence of the whole hierarchy of England, as to the reality 
 of her alleged devotion to a religious life. Eadmer the his- 
 torian, then secretary of Archbishop Anselm, has recorded 
 the very words uttered by the princess. "I do not deny," 
 said Matilda, " having worn the veil in my father's court, for 
 when I was a child my aunt Christina put a piece of black cloth 
 over my head ; but when my father saw me with it, he snatch- 
 ed it off in a great rage, and execrated the person who had put 
 it on me. I afterward made a pretense of weai'ing it, to ex- 
 cuse myself from unsuitable marriages; and on one of these oc- 
 casions my father tore the veil and threw it on the ground, ob- 
 serving to Alan, Earl of Bretagne, who stood by, that it was 
 his intention to give me in marriage, not to devote me to the 
 Church." She also admitted that she had assumed the veil in 
 the nunnery of Romsey, as a protection from the violence of 
 the Normans, and that she had continued to wear it through the 
 compulsion of her aunt, the Abbess Christina. "If I removed 
 it," continued Matilda, "she would torment me with blows 
 and reproaches. Sighing and trembling, I wore it in her pres- 
 ence ; but as soon as I withdrew from her sight I always 
 threw it off and trampled upon it." This explanation was con- 
 sidered perfectly satisfactory by the council at Lambeth, and 
 they pronounced that " Matilda, daughter of Malcolm, King of 
 Scotland, had pi'oved that she had not embraced a religious 
 life, either by her own choice or the vow of her parents, and 
 she was therefore free to contract marriage." Henry I. prom- 
 ised to confirm to the English nation their ancient laws as es- 
 tablished by Alfred, and ratified by Edward the Confessor — in 
 short, to become a constitutional monarch — on those condi- 
 tions the daughter of the royal line of Alfred consented to 
 share his throne. Her marriage and coronation took place on 
 Sunday, November 11th, 1100. 
 
 A beautiful epithalamium, in honor of these auspicious 
 nuptials, was written by Matilda's friend Hildebert, in ele- 
 gant Latin verse, wherein he congraCulates both England and 
 
IIOI.J MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 29 
 
 Henry on the possession of the doubly royal bride Matilda. 
 He eulogizes her virtues, and describes her modest and maid- 
 enly deportment, as enhancing her youthful charms, when, 
 with blushes that outvied the crimson of her royal robe, she 
 stood at the altar, invested with her royal insignia, a virgin 
 queen and bride, in whom the hopes of England hailed the 
 future mother of a mighty line of kings. To this auspicious 
 union of the Anglo-Norman sovereign Henry I. with Matilda 
 of Scotland, a princess of English lineage, English education, 
 and an English heart, we may trace all the constitutional bless- 
 ings which this free country at present enjoys. It was through 
 the influence of his virtuous queen that Henry granted the 
 important charter which formed the model and precedent of 
 that great palladium of English liberty. Magna Charta. When 
 the marriage took place, a hundred copies of this digest of the 
 righteous laws of Alfred and Edward the Confessor were 
 made, and committed to the keeping of the principal bishoprics 
 and monasteries in England ; but when these were sought for, 
 in the reign of John, to form a legal authority for the demands 
 of the people, only one could be found, which was exhibited to 
 the barons by Cardinal Langton, This was, in fact, the simple 
 model on which Magna Charta was framed. It is supposed 
 that Henry I., after Matilda's death, destroyed all the copies 
 (on which he could lay his hands) of a covenant which, in the 
 latter years of his reign, he scrupled not to infringe whenever 
 he felt disposed. 
 
 The allegiance which the mighty Norman conqueror and 
 his despotic son the " Red King" had never been able to ob- 
 tain, except through the sternest measures of compulsion, and 
 which, in defiance of the dreadful penalties of loss of eyes, 
 limbs, and life, had been frequently withdrawn from these 
 pow'erful monarchs, was faithfully accorded to the husband of 
 Maude, the Good Queen, as the Anglo-Saxons called her 
 (Maude being in those times used as the diminutive appella- 
 tion for the name of Matilda). She was, moreover, "the lady 
 giver of bread." Her charities were of a most extensive char- 
 acter, and her compassion carried lier almost beyond the 
 bounds of reason, like her mother St. Margaret, Queen of 
 Scotland. Once her brother, Alexander the Fierce, King of 
 Scotland, when on a visit to the court of her royal husband, 
 entering Matilda's apartments, found her on her knees, en- 
 gaged in washing the feet of some aged mendicants, in which 
 she entreated his assistance for the benefit of his soul. The 
 warlike majesty of Scotland smiled, and left the room without 
 making any reply to this invitation. Perhaps he had seen too 
 
30 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1101. 
 
 much of such scenes during the life of his pious mother Queen 
 Margaret, and feared that his sister would carry her works o:^ 
 benevolence to extremes that might prove displeasing to the 
 taste of so refined a prince as Henry Beauclerc. But to do 
 Matilda justice, her good works in general bore a character of 
 more extended usefulness ; so much so, that we even feel the 
 benefit of them to this day, in the ancient bridge she built 
 over the Lea. Once being on horseback, in danger of perish- 
 ing while passing the river Lea at Oldford, in gratitude for 
 her preservation she built the first arched bridge ever known 
 in England, a little higher up the stream, called by the Saxons 
 Bow Bridge. She built it at the head of the town of Stratford ; 
 likewise Channel's Bridge, over a tributary stream of the 
 Thames. Matilda founded the hospital at St. Giles-in-the- 
 Fields, and one called Christ Church. This excellent queen 
 also directed her attention to the important object of making 
 new roads, and repairing the ancient highways that had fallen 
 into decay during the stormy years which had succeeded the 
 peaceful and prosperous reign of her great uncle, Edward the 
 Confessor. 
 
 Meantime the conjugal affection which subsisted between 
 Henry and Matilda excited the ridicule of the Norman nobles, 
 who nick-named them Leofric and Godiva. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 The invasion of Duke Robert, Henry's eldest brother, on his 
 return from the Iloly Land, took place in the second year of 
 Matilda's marriage. King Henry's fleet, being manned with 
 Norman seamen, revolted, and brought their Duke Robert in 
 triumph to Portsmouth, where he was joined by the majority 
 of the Anglo-Norman baronage. Robert, too, had his parti- 
 sans among the English, for Edgar Atheling so far forgot the 
 interests of liis niece, Queen Matilda, as to espouse the cause 
 of his friend Robert, who marched direct to Winchester, where 
 Matilda then lay-in with her first-born child, William, surnamed 
 the Atheling. When this circumstance was related to him, he 
 relinquished his purpose of storming the city, saying, "that 
 he would not begin war by an assault on a woman in child- 
 bed." Matilda duly appreciated this generosity of her royal 
 brother-in-law and godfather, and negotiated peace between 
 him and her husband, by compounding Robert's claims for a 
 pension of 3000 marks. 
 
1103.] MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 31 
 
 After tlie peace Henry invited Robert to become his guest 
 at the court, wliere the easy-tempered duke was feasted and 
 entertained by his royal god-daughter Matilda, who, in lier love 
 of music, and the encouragement she bestowed on minstrels, 
 quite coincided with his tastes. So much did Robert enjoy 
 his sojourn at Henry's court, that he stayed there upward of 
 six months, though his presence was greatly required in his 
 own dominions. An unfortunate misunderstanding took place 
 between Henry and the Arclibishop Anselm, early in the year 
 1103, in which the queen tried to mediate, but Anselm was 
 driven into exile. 
 
 The Pope addressed several letters to the king on the sub- 
 ject of the dispute. The first of these alludes to the birth of 
 an infant Atheling, as the Anglo-Norman heir was called by 
 the Saxons, in words which imply great respect for Queen Ma- 
 tilda, and informs us how ardently Henry had wished for a 
 son. He nevertheless had fixed his aifections, not on the spir- 
 itual consolations, but the temporalities of the Churcli, and was 
 trying how far he might go in seizing the revenues of Canter- 
 bury without exciting insurrection. 
 
 Saintly, yet no slave of Rome, Matilda displays in her task 
 of peace-making the high spirit of an English princess under 
 all the elaborate terms of ceremonial lowliness in which her 
 letters are couched. She asks the Pope to suspend his threat- 
 ened fulmination, to give the king her lord time to effect a 
 reconciliation with the archbishop ; but follows up this pi-ayer 
 with an intimation that, if matters are driven to an extremity, 
 it may cause a separation between England and the Roman 
 See. 
 
 Duke Robert took advantage of the dispute to enter En- 
 gland, attended by only twelve gentlemen. Henry, having 
 speedy information of his landing, declared, if he fell into his 
 hands, he would keep him so closely imprisoned that he should 
 never give him any more trouble. Then Duke Robert, who 
 found he was in danger, went to the queen, and she received 
 and reassured him very amiably ; and by the sweet words she 
 said to him, and the fear he was in of being taken, he was 
 induced to sacrifice some pecuniary claims on the king his 
 brother, for which he had resigned the realm of England. 
 Robert indulged in such excess while he was at the English 
 court, that he was often in a state of intoxication for days to- 
 gether. 
 
 Henry left the government of England in the prudent hands 
 of Matilda, and embarked for Kormandy. While there he con- 
 sented to meet Anselm the archbishop at the Castle of I'Aigle, 
 
32 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [IIO'J. 
 
 where, through the mediation of his sister Adela, Countess of 
 Blois, a reconcihation was happily ettected. Ansehn then re-* 
 turned to England, where he was met at Dover by the Queen 
 Matilda, who received and welcomed him with the greatest 
 demonstrations of satisfaction. The same year, 1104, was 
 marked by the birth of a princess, who Avas first named Alice, 
 but whose name the king afterward changed to that of his 
 beloved and popular queen. The infant princess was afterward 
 the celebrated Empress Matilda. 
 
 In the spring Henry once more committed the domestic 
 affairs of his kingdom to the care of Matilda, and having 
 levied an enormous tax on his subjects, to support the expen- 
 ses of the war, embarked for Normandy. Matilda was prin- 
 cipally employed, during the king's absence, in superintending 
 the magnificent buildings of New Windsor Castle, which were 
 founded by Henry, and in the completion of the royal apart- 
 ments in the Tower of London. Meantime the unfortunate 
 Robert, with the Earl of Mortaigne and all the nobles of their 
 party, were taken prisoners at the decisive battle of Tinche- 
 bray, where Edgar Atheling, Matilda's uncle, ■w\as likewise 
 taken fighting for his friend, Robert of Normandy. Henry 
 instantly released the aged English prince for love of the 
 queen his niece. Robert was sent by the king close prisoner 
 to CardiflT Castle, where he remained during the rest of his 
 life. . Matilda, though alone, enjoyed a degree of power and 
 influence in the state perfectly unknown to the Saxon queens. 
 She was so nobly dowered, withal, that in after reigns the 
 highest demand ever made on the part of a queen-consort 
 was, that she should be endowed with a dower equal to that 
 of Matilda of Scotland. Her royal husband, having spent the 
 winter and spring of 1109 in Normandy, returned to Eng- 
 land to visit her and their infant family, and kept court with 
 uncommon splendor in his new castle of Windsor, which had 
 been completed in his absence. It was there that he received 
 the ambassadors who came to solicit the hand of the Prin- 
 cess Matilda for the mature Emperor Henry V. The proposal 
 was eagerly accepted by Henry Beauclerc ; and the little bride, 
 then just turned of five years old, was solemnly espoused by 
 proxy to her royal suitor, who was forty years her senior. She 
 was allowed for the present to remain under the care of the 
 queen her mother. A tax of thi'ee shillings on every hide of 
 land was levied to pay the portion of the Princess Matilda, 
 by which the sum of 824,000^. was raised. In her eleventh 
 year she was sent to her imperial husbaud with a magnificent 
 retinue, and was crowned with great pomp in the cathedral at 
 
Ills.] MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 33 
 
 Mentz. The following year Henry summoned that memorable 
 parliament, mentioned as the first held since the Norman con- 
 quest, to meet at Salisbury, and there appointed Prince Wil- 
 liam, then in his thirteenth year, as his successor. 
 
 Matilda passed the Christmas festival of the same year, in 
 the company of her royal husband, at St. Albans, she being 
 one of the benefactresses of the new-built abbey. Sanctioned 
 by Henry, she gave it, by charter, two manors. The existence 
 of a portrait of Queen Matilda is certainly owing to this visit ; 
 for in a rich illuminated A^olume, called the Golden Book of 
 St. Albans (now in the British Museum), may still be seen 
 her miniature. The queen is attired in the royal mantle of 
 scarlet, lined with white fur ; it covers the knees, and is very 
 long. She is very fair in complexion : has a long throat, and 
 elegant form. She displays with her right hand the charter 
 she gave the abbey, from which hangs a very large red seal, 
 Avhereupon, without doubt, w^as impressed her effigy in grand 
 relief. She sits on a carved stone bench, on which is a scarlet 
 cushioTi figui'ed with gold leaves. This cushion is in the form 
 of the Lord Chancellor's woolsack, but it has four tassels of gold 
 and scarlet. 
 
 A fresh revolt in Normandy deprived Matilda of the soci- 
 ety of her husband and son in lllV; but the king returned 
 and spent Christmas Avith her, as she was at that time in a 
 declining state of health, leaving Prince William with his Nor- 
 man baronage. He Avas compelled by the distracted state of 
 affairs in Normandy to rejoin his army there, — Matilda never 
 saw either her husband or her son again. Resigned and per- 
 fect in all the duties of her high calling, the dying queen re- 
 mained in her palace at Westminster, lonely thougli surround- 
 ed with all the splendor of royalty, affording, to the last hour 
 of her life, a beautiful example of piety. She expired on the 
 1st of May, 1118, passionately lamented by every class of the 
 people. 
 
 Matilda was buried in Westminster Abbey, on the right side 
 of her royal uncle, Edward the Confessor. Tablets to her mem- 
 ory Avere set up in many churches, — an honor Avhich she shares 
 Avith Queen Elizabeth. The king her husband Avas deeply af- 
 flicted Avhen the intelligence of Matilda's death reached him, 
 amid the turmoil of battle in Normandy. He proved the 
 sincerity of his regard for her by confirming all her charities 
 after her death. Matilda's household Avas chiefly composed 
 of Saxon ladies. The maids of honor Avere Emma, Gunilda, 
 and Christina, pious damsels, and full of alms-deeds, like their 
 royal mistress. After the death of tlie queen, these ladies rc- 
 
 B* 
 
34 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1120. 
 
 tired to the hermitage of Kilburn, near London, where there 
 was a holy well, or medicinal spring. 
 
 There were only two surviving children of Matilda of Scot- 
 land and Henry I., William the Atheling and Matilda. The 
 young prince married the daughter of Fulke, Count of Anjou, 
 and remained in Normandy with his bride, attended by all the 
 youthful nobility of England and the duchy, passing the time 
 gayly with feasts and pageants till the 25th of November, in 
 the year 1120; when King Henry (who had been nearly two 
 years absent from his kingdom) proceeded with him and an il- 
 lustrious retinue to Barfleur, where they embarked for England 
 the same night, but in separate ships. 
 
 Fitz-Stephen, the captain of the Blanche Nef, the finest 
 vessel in the Norman navy, demanded the honor of convey- 
 ing the heir of England home, because his father had com- 
 manded the Mora, the ship which brought William the Con- 
 queror to the shores of England. His petition was granted ; 
 and the prince, with his company, entered the galley with 
 light hearts. The prince incautiously ordered three casks of 
 wine to be given to the ship's crew, and the mariners were, 
 in consequence, for the most part intoxicated when they 
 sailed, about the close of day. Prince William, who was de- 
 sirous of overtaking the rest of the fleet, pressed Fitz-Stephen 
 to crowd his sails, and his men to stretch with all their might 
 to the oars. While the Blanche Nef was rushing through 
 the water with the most dangerous velocity, she suddenly 
 struck on a rock, called Catte-raze, with such impetuosity, 
 that she started several planks, and began to sink. All was 
 in an instant horror and confusion. The boat was, however, 
 let down, and the young heir of England, with several of his 
 youthful companions, got into it, and having cleared the ship, 
 might have reached the Norman shore in safety ; but the 
 cries of his half-sister, Matilda, Countess of Perche, who dis- 
 tinctly called on him by name for succor, moving him with a 
 tender impulse of compassion, he commanded the boat back 
 to take her in. Unfortunately, the moment it neared the ship, 
 such numbers sprang into it, that it instantly sank with its 
 precious freight ; all on board perished, and of the three 
 hundred persons who embarked in the White Ship, but one 
 soul escaped to tell the dismal tale. This person was a poor 
 butcher of Rouen, named Berthould, who climbed to the top 
 of the mast, and was the next morning rescued by some fisher- 
 men. Fitz-Stephen, the master of the luckless White Ship, 
 was a strong mariner, and stoutly swam until he saw Berth- 
 ould on the mast, and asked him if the boat with the heir of 
 
1120.] MATILDA OF SCOTLAND. 35 
 
 England had escaped ; but when the butcher, who had wit- 
 nessed the whole catastrophe, repUed that all were drowned 
 and dead, the strong man's force failed him ; he ceased to 
 battle with the waves, and sank. 
 
 King Henry had reached England with his fleet, in safety, 
 and for three days remained in agonizing suspense respecting 
 the fate of his children. No one choosing to become the 
 bearer of such evil tidings, at length his nephew, Theobald de 
 Blois, finding it could no longer be concealed, instructed a 
 favorite little page to communicate the mournful news to the 
 bereaved father ; and the child, entering the royal presence 
 with a sorrowful face, knelt down at Heni-y's feet, and told him 
 that the prince and all on board the White Ship were lost. 
 Henry was so thunderstruck with this dreadful news, that he 
 swooned. When he recovered, he broke into the bitterest 
 lamentations, and was never again seen to smile. The body 
 of Prince William was never found, though diligent search 
 was made for it along the shores. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxons exulted in the death of William on ac- 
 count of a foolish speech he had made. One of their chroni- 
 clers repeats it thus to his disparagement: "The proud 
 youth ! he thought of his future reign, when he said ' he 
 would yoke the Saxons like oxen.' But God said, 'It shall 
 not be, thou impious one ; it shall not be.' And so it has 
 come to pass : that brow has worn no crown of gold, but has 
 been dashed against the rocks of the ocean." Yet in the last 
 act of his life, William the Atheling manifested a spirit so 
 noble, so tenderly compassionate, and forgetful of selfish con- 
 siderations, that we can only say it was worthy of the son of 
 Matilda, the Good Queen. 
 
36 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1121. 
 
 ADELICIA OF LOUVAINE. 
 
 SUENAMED THE FAIR MAID OF BEAEANT. 
 
 SECOND QUEEN OF HENRY I. 
 
 The second consort of Henry I. was Adelicia, or Alice of 
 Louvuine, eldest daughter of Godfrey, Duke of Brabant, and 
 Ida, Countess of Naniur. The dominions of her father were 
 somewhat more extensive than the modern kingdom of Bel- 
 gium, and were governed by him with such ability that he 
 was surnamed Godfrey the Great. Adelicia inherited the dis- 
 tinguished beauty for which the Lorraine branch of the house 
 of Charlemagne has been celebrated ; she was remarkable for 
 her proficiency in feminine acquirements. A standard em- 
 broidered in silk and gold for her father, during an arduous 
 contest in which he was engaged for the recovery of his pat- 
 rimony, was celebrated throughout Europe for tlie taste and 
 skill displayed in the design ; but it was unfortunately cap- 
 tured at a battle near the Castle of Duras, in 1129, by the 
 Bisliop of Liege, placed in the Church of St. Lambert, at 
 Liege, and was carried in procession for centuries. 
 
 The fame of the fair maid of Brabant's charms and accom- 
 plishments, it is said, induced the confidential advisers of Hen- 
 ry I. of England to recommend their sorrow-stricken lord to 
 wed her, in hopes of dissipating that corroding melancholy 
 which, since the loss of his children in the fatal White Ship, 
 had become constitutional. Pie had been a widower two 
 years when he entered into a treaty with Godfrey of Louvaine 
 for the hand of his beautiful daughter. Tiie contract of mar- 
 riage was signed on the 16tli of April, 1120. King Henry 
 conducted his betrothed bride to England in the autumn. 
 The nuptials were publicly solemnized at Windsor on the 
 24th of January, 1121. Roger le Poer, Bishop of Salisbury, 
 claimed the right to marry and crown the royal pair, because 
 the fortress of Windsor was within his diocese. But the aged 
 Ralph, Archbishop of Canterbury, proved that the King and' 
 Queen of England were his parishioners, and performed the 
 ceremony. The king determined that the Bishop of Salisbury 
 should crown them. The coronation was appointed at a very 
 early hour next day ; but the archbishop hastened to the 
 
11L>G.] ADELICIxV OF LUUVAINE. ^7 
 
 abbey, when, f nding the rival prelate had ah-oady placed the 
 royal diadeiu on the monarch's brow, he sternly approached 
 the royal chair, and asked Henry, " Who had put the crown 
 on his head?" The king evasively replied, "If the ceremony 
 had not been properly performed, it could be done again." 
 On which the choleric old primate raised the crown up by 
 the strap which passed under the chin, and so turned it off 
 his head. He then proceeded to replace it, with all due form, 
 and afterward crowned the fair young queen. The beauty 
 of the royal bride made a great impression on the minds of 
 the people, which the sweetness of her manners, her prudence, 
 and mild virtues, strengthened in no slight degree. Her wis- 
 dom early manifested itself in the graceful manner in which 
 she endeavored to conform herself to the tastes of her royal 
 lord. Henry's love for animals had induced him to create an 
 extensive menagerie at Woodstock. The youthful Adelicia 
 knew nothing of zoology previously to her marriage with 
 Henry Beauclerc ; but like a good wife, in order to adapt her- 
 self to his pursuits, she turned her attention to that study, for 
 we find Philippe de Thuan wrote a work on the nature of ani- 
 mals for her instruction. 
 
 Henry I. was keeping the Easter festival, with his beauti- 
 ful young queen, at Winchester, wlien the news arrived that 
 Fulke of Anjou had joined a formidable confederacy against 
 him. He sailed for Normandy in April, 1123; and Adelicia 
 was left, as his former queen, Matilda of Scotland, had often 
 been before her, to hold her lonely courts during the pro- 
 tracted absence of her royal consort, and to exert herself for 
 the preservation of the internal peace of England, while war 
 or state policy detained the king in Normandy. When Henry 
 had defeated his enemies at the battle of Terroude, near 
 Rouen, he sent for Queen Adelicia to come to him. She sailed 
 for Normandy, and arrived in the midst of scenes of horroi", 
 for Henry took merciless vengeance on the revolters. 
 
 When Queen Adelicia returned to England, September, 
 1126, she was accompanied by King Henry and his daughter, 
 the Empress Matilda, the heiress-presumptive of England, 
 then a widow in her twenty-second year. Tiie princes of the 
 empire had been so much charmed by her prudent conduct 
 and stately demeanor, that they entreated the king, her father, 
 to permit her to choose a second consort from among their 
 august body, promising to elect for their emperor the person 
 on whom her choice might ftill. King Henry, however, de- 
 spairing of a male heir, as he had been mai-ried to Adelicia 
 six years, without children, reclaimed his widowed daughter 
 
38 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1126. 
 
 from the admiring princes^ of Germany. Heiry soon sum- 
 moned a parliament for tlae purpose of causing her to be ac- 
 knowledged as the heiress-presumptive of the crown. This 
 was the first instance that had occurred, since the dim era of 
 British sovereigns, of a female standing in that important 
 position with regard to the succession of the crown. There 
 was, however, neither law nor precept to forbid women from 
 holding the regal office ; therefore the people swoi-e fealty to 
 the high and mighty Lady Matilda. Stephen, the king's fa- 
 vorite nephew, third son of Adela, Countess of Blois, was the 
 first wlio bent his knee in homage to the daughter of his 
 liege lord as the heiress of England, and swore to maintain 
 her righteous title to the throne of her royal father. Stephen 
 was the handsomest man in Europe, and remarkable for his 
 knightly prowess. 
 
 The royal family kept their Christmas this year, 1126, at 
 Windsor, at which time King Henry, in token of his esteem 
 for Queen Adelicia, gave her the whole county of Shropshire. 
 Tlie Empress Matilda did not grace the festivities with her 
 presence, but remained in the deepest seclusion, abiding con- 
 tinually in the chamber of Adelicia; by which it appears that, 
 notwithstanding her high rank and matronly dignity as the 
 widow of an emperor, the heiress of England had no estab- 
 lishment of her own. Early in the following year, King Hen- 
 ry negotiated her marriage, without the consent of his sub- 
 jects in England, and decidedly against her own inclination, 
 with a foreign prince, whom she regarded with the most inef- 
 fable scorn as her inferior in every point of view. In her ten- 
 der infancy, Matilda was used as a political puppet by her 
 parent to advance his own interest, without the slightest con- 
 sideration for her happiness. Then the victim was led a smil- 
 ing sacrifice to the altar, unconscious of the joyless destiny to 
 which parental ambition had doomed her. Noto the case was 
 difi:erent ; she was no meek infant, but a royal matron, who 
 had shared the imperial throne. Dissensions between the king 
 and his daughter proceeded to such heights, that at last the 
 king ordered Matilda to confine herself wholly to the apart- 
 ments of the queen. Adelicia was very delicately situated, 
 acting as a mediator between the contending parties, and con- 
 ducting herself rather as a loving sister than an ambitious 
 step-dame. The haughty Matilda lived on good terms with 
 her step-mother, for Adelicia was the only person with whom 
 she did not quarrel. 
 
 Geoffrey Plantagenet, to wliom Henry I. soon after pledged 
 the hand of his daughter, was the eldest son of his old antag- 
 
1133-1135.] ADELICIA OF LOUVAINE. 39 
 
 onist, Fulke, Earl of Anjou. He had been the favorite com- 
 panion of King Henry when on the continent. His fine per- 
 son, elegant? manners, great bravery, and, above all, his 
 learning, made his society very agreeable. Geoffrey's sur- 
 name of Plantagenet was derived from his putting in his 
 helmet plumes of the flowering broom when he went to hunt 
 in the woods. The ceremony of betrothment between Geof- 
 frey of Anjou and Matilda took place on Whitsunday, 1127. 
 King Henry had given positive commands to Matilda that she 
 should come to Normandy, and that her nuptials should be 
 solemnized by the Archbishop of Rouen immediately on her 
 arrival. The empress bride was so reluctant that he felt him- 
 self compelled to undertake a voyage to Normandy in August, 
 to see the marriage concluded, which did not take place till 
 the 26th of that month ; and when, at length, Matilda was 
 married, she perpetually quarreled with her husband, 
 
 Adelicia frequently attended her royal lord on his prog- 
 resses. Her presence was, doubtless, of medicinal influence 
 in those fearful hours when the pangs of troubled conscience 
 caused sleep to forsake his pillow or brought visionary hor- 
 rors in its train. The joyful news that the Empress Matilda 
 had given birth to a prince, cast the last gleam of brightness 
 on his declining years. The young prince was named Henry, 
 after his grandfather, the King of England. The Normans 
 called him Fitz-Empress, but King Henry pi'oudly styled the 
 boy Fitz-Conqueror, in token of his illustrious descent from 
 the mightiest monarch of the line. 
 
 King Henry summoned his last parliament in 1133, for the 
 purpose of causing this precious child to be included in the 
 oath of fealty, by which the succession to the throne was for 
 the third time secured to his daughter, the Empress Matilda. 
 The childless state of the queen was one of the causes of ami- 
 ty and confidence that subsisted between her and her haughty 
 step-daughter. 
 
 Adelicia was not with the king her husband at the time of 
 his death, which took place in Normandy, in the year 1135, at 
 the castle of Lyons, near Rouen, a place in which he much de- 
 lighted. It is said, that having over-fatigued himself in hunt- 
 ing in the forest of Lyons, he returned much heated, and, 
 contrary to the advice of his courtiers and physicians, made 
 too full a meal on a dish of stewed lampreys, his favorite food, 
 which bi'ought on a violent fit of indigestion, ending in a 
 fever, of which he died, at midnight, December 1st, after an 
 illness of seven days, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. He 
 appears to have been perfectly conscious of his approaching 
 
40 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1138-1139. 
 
 dissolution, for he gave particular directions respecting his 
 obsequies to his natural son, Robert, Earl of Gloucester, whom 
 he charged to take 60,000 marks out of his tred:sure-chest at 
 Falaise, for the expenses of his funeral and the payment of his 
 mercenary troops. He solemnly bequeathed his dominions to 
 liis daughter, the empress. His body being conveyed to 
 England,was buried at his favorite abbey of Reading. 
 
 During the life of the king her husband, Adelicia had found- 
 ed and endowed the hospital and conventual establishment of 
 St. Giles, near Wilton ; and she resided there during some part 
 of her widowhood, in the house which is still called by her 
 name. She was dowered by King Henry, in the foir domain 
 of Arundel Castle. At this Saxon castle, built and strengthened 
 on the hill above the waters, Adelicia was residing when she 
 consented to become the wife of William de Albini " of the 
 Strong Hand," the Lord of Bnckenham in Norfolk. Adelicia 
 was in her thirty-second year at the time of King Henry's death ; 
 she contracted her second marriage in the third year of her 
 widowhood, A.D. 1138. Adelicia and her second spouse, Wil- 
 liam de Albini, were affianced some time previous to their 
 marriage ; for when he won the prize at the tournament held 
 at Bourges in 1137, in honor of the nuptials of Louis VH. of 
 France and Eleanora of Aquitaine, Adelaide, the gay queen- 
 dowager of France, fell passionately in love with him, and 
 wooed him to become her husband ; but he replied that his 
 troth was pledged to Adelicia, the Queen of England. Wil- 
 liam de Albini was not only a knight stout in combat and 
 constant in loyalty and love, but history proves him to have 
 been one of the greatest and best men of that age. Adelicia's 
 second marriage was not, therefore, considered derogatory to 
 the dignity of a queen-dowager of England. 
 
 Adelicia, by her union with Albini, conveyed to him a life- 
 interest in her rich dowry of Arundel, and he accordingly as- 
 sumed the title of Earl of Arundel Castle, in her right. It was 
 at this feudal fortress, on the then solitary coast of Sussex, that 
 tlie royal beauty who had for fifteen yeai-s presided over the 
 splendid court of Henry Beauclerc, voluntarily resided with 
 her second husband — the husband, doubtless, of her heart — in 
 the peaceful obscurity of domestic happiness, far remote from 
 the scenes of her former greatness. She never sanctioned the 
 usurpation of the successful rival of her step-daughter's right by 
 appearing at his court. And when the Empress Matilda landed 
 in England to dispute the crown with Stephen, the gates of 
 Arundel Castle were thrown open to receive her and her train 
 bv the royal Adelicia and her husband Albini. It was in the 
 
1138-1139.] 
 
 ADELICIA UF LUUVAINE. 
 
 41 
 
 ■WW r"*s-^«^'-- ^^-^ - (^ ,, 
 
 AninUel Castle. 
 
 year 1139 when this perilous guest claimed the hospitality, and 
 finally the protection of the noble pair, whose wedded happiness 
 had been rendered more perfect by the birth of a son, in the 
 second year of their marriage. No sooner Avas Stephen inform- 
 ed that the Empress Matilda was in Arundel Castle, than he 
 raised the siege of Marlborough, and commenced a rapid march 
 toward Arundel. The spirit with which he pushed his oper- 
 ations alarmed the royal ladies. Adelicia dreaded the des- 
 truction of her castle, the loss of her beloved husband, and 
 the breaking up of all the domestic happiness she had enjoy- 
 ed since her retirement from public life. The Empress Matil- 
 da suffered some apprehension, lest her gentle step-mother 
 should be induced to deliver her into the hands of her foe.* 
 There was, however, no less firmness than gentleness in the 
 character of Adelicia; and the moment Stephen approached her 
 
42 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1150. 
 
 walls, she sent messengers to entreat his forbearance, assuring 
 him " that she had admitted Matilda, not as his enemy, but as 
 lier daughter-in-law and early friend," requesting " that Matil- 
 da might be allowed to leave the castle, and retire to her 
 brother, the Earl of Gloucester." Stephen raised the siege, 
 and the empress proceeded to join her adherents at Bristol. 
 Adelicia and Albini remained neuter in the long civil war, and 
 prevented their vassals from engaging in the contest. 
 
 To her tliird son Adelicia gave the name of her deceased 
 lord, King Henry. Her fourth was named Godfrey, after her 
 father and elder brother, the reigning Duke of Brabant. 
 
 The royal Adelicia crossed the sea in 1150, and retired to 
 the nunnery of Atilinghani, near Alost in Flanders, where she 
 died soon after, and there she was buried. Strange as it 
 appears to us, that any one who was at the very summit of 
 earthly felicity should have bi'oken through siach fond ties of 
 conjugal and maternal love as those by which Adelicia was 
 surrounded, to bury herself in cloistered seclusion, yet there is 
 indubitable evidence that such was the fact. Her lord espe- 
 cially confirmed all her charities, which were of the hospital 
 class, numerous and useful. She must have been about forty- 
 eight years old at the time of her death ; and she had been 
 married eleven years to William de Albini, who survived her 
 long enough to be the happy means of composing, by an ami- 
 cable treaty, the death-strife which had convulsed England for 
 fifteen years, in consequence of the bloody succession-war be- 
 tween Stephen and the Empress Matilda. This great and good 
 man was buried in Wymondham Abbey, Norfolk. 
 
MATILDA OF BOULOGNE. 
 
 43 
 
 ,x^\\ \\\ 
 
 Stiphen. riuai bilvci com in the collection of bii Heuiy Ellia. 
 
 MATILDA OF BOULOGNE, 
 
 QUEEN OF STEPHEN. 
 
 Matilda of Boulogne was the last of our Anglo-Norman 
 queens. Her mother, Mary of Scotland, was the seconcVdaugh- 
 ter of Malcolm Canmore and Margaret Atheling, and sister to 
 Matilda, the first queen of Henry Beauclerc. She was educa- 
 ted by Christina, in the Romsey convent, which she forsook 
 on Matilda's nuptials with Henry I., who gave her in marriage 
 to Eustace, Count of Boulogne. Godfrey of Boulogne, the 
 hero of Tasso's " Jerusalem Delivered," and his brother Bald- 
 win, were the uncles of Matilda, Slie was the heiress of her 
 father, Eustace, Count of Boulogne, who was also a distinguish- 
 ed crusader. There is every reason to believe Matilda was 
 located in the abbey of Bermondsey, and that she espoused 
 Stephen de Blois before her mother's decease. Stephen, the 
 third son of a vassal peer of France, obtained this great match 
 
44 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. . [1135. 
 
 tlirough the favor of his uncle, Henry I. Stephen was knight- 
 ed by King Henry previous to the battle of Tinchebray, where 
 he took the Count of Mortagne prisoner, and received the in- 
 vestiture of his lands, and the hand of Matilda, the lieiress of 
 Boulogne. He became Count of Boulogne in her right. 
 
 The London residence of Steplien and Matilda was Tower- 
 Royal, a palace built by King Plenry, and presented by him to 
 his favored nephew. The spot to which this regal-sounding 
 name is still appended, is a close lane between Cheapside and 
 Watling Street. It is a remarkable iact, that Stephen had em- 
 barked on board the Blanche Nef with his royal cousin, Wil- 
 liam the Atlieling, and the rest of her fated crew ; but he left 
 the vessel with the remark that " she was too much crowded 
 with foolish, headstrong young people." After the death of 
 Prince William, Stephen's influence with his royal uncle be- 
 came unbounded. 
 
 Two children, a son and a daughter, were born to the Count 
 and Countess of Boulogne, during King Henry's reign. The 
 boy was named Baldwin, after Matilda's uncle, the King of 
 Jerusalem — a Saxon name, withal, and therefore likely to sound 
 pleasantly to the ears of the English. Prince Baldwin, how- 
 ever, died early. The second child of Stephen and Matilda, a 
 daughter named Maud, born also in the reign of Henry I., died 
 young. 
 
 In the latter days of King Henry, while Stephen was engaged 
 in stealing the hearts of the men of England, the virtues of 
 his consort recalled to their remembrance her royal aunt and 
 namesake, Henry's first queen. King Henry's daughter, the 
 Empress Matilda, was the wife of a foreign prince residing on 
 the continent. Stephen and his gentle "jDrincess were living in 
 London, and daily endearing themselves to the people by affa- 
 ble behavior. The public mind was certainly predisposed in 
 favor of Stephen's designs, when the sudden demise of King 
 Henry in Normandy left the right of succession to the empress. 
 Stephen, following the exam])le of the deceased monarch's con- 
 duct at the time of his brother Rufus's death, left his royal 
 uncle and benefactor's obsequies to the care of Robert, Earl of 
 Gloucester, embarked at Whitsand, a small port in his wife's 
 dominions, in a light vessel, on a wintry sea, and landed at 
 Dover in the midst of such a storm of thunder and lightning, 
 that every one imagined the Avorld was coming to an end. 
 As soon as he arrived in London he convened an assembly 
 of the Anglo-Norman barons, before w'hom his friend, Hugh 
 Bigod, the steward of King Henry's household, swore " that 
 the deceased sovereign had disinhei-ited the Empress Matilda 
 
1137.] MATILDA OF BOULOGNE. 4o 
 
 Oil bis dc.itli-bed, and adopted his most dear nephew Stephen 
 for his lieir." On which the Archbishop of Canterbury absolved 
 the peers of the oaths of fealty they had twice sworn to the 
 daughter of their late sovereign. Stephen was crowned by 
 him on the 2Gth of December, St. Stephen's Day, 1135; his 
 queen hourly expected to bring him an heir, and their son Eus- 
 tace was born not many liours after his father's coronation, to 
 the delight of the Anglo-Saxons, who regarded Stephen's union 
 with a princess of their race as the best pledge of the sincerity 
 of his professions. Matilda's own coronation took place East- 
 er Sunday, 1136, not quite three months afterward. Stephen 
 was better enabled to support the expenses of a splendid cere- 
 monial in honor of his beloved queen, having, immediately 
 after his own coronation, made himself master of the treasury 
 of his deceased uncle, King Henry, which contained 100,000/., 
 besides stores of plate and jewels. 
 
 The Empress Matilda was in Anjou at the time of her father's 
 sudden demise. She was entirely occupied by the grievous 
 sickness of her husband, who was supposed to be on his death- 
 bed. After the convalescence of her lord, as none of her par- 
 tisans in England made the slightest movement in her favor, 
 she remained quiescent for a season, Avell knowing that the ex- 
 cessive popularity of a new monarch was seldom of long con- 
 tinuance in England. 
 
 David, King of Scotland, invaded the northern counties, un- 
 der pretense of revenging the wrong that had been done to 
 his niece, the Empress Matilda, by Stephen's usurpation and 
 perjury; but when the hostile armies met near Carlisle, Ste- 
 phen succeeded in adjusting all differences by means of an 
 amicable treaty, through the entreaties or mediation of his 
 queen, who likewise was niece to David. • 
 
 An illness so alarming attacked the king, in the midst of 
 the Easter festivities of 1137, that his death was reported in 
 N"ormandy ; on which the party of the empress began to take 
 active measures, both on the continent and in England, for the 
 recognition of her rights. Her husband entered Normandy at 
 the head of an army. Stephen, rousing himself from the 
 pause of exhausted nature, hastened to the continent with his 
 infant heir Eustace, to whom Queen Matilda had resigned the 
 earldom of Boulogne, her own fair inheritance. Stephen, by 
 the strong eloquence of an immense bribe, prevailed on Louis 
 VH. of France, as suzerain of Normandy, to invest the un- 
 conscious babe with the duchy. The invasion of Queen Matil- 
 da's uncle increased the difficulties of her husband's affiiirs. 
 King David and his army were, however, defeated with im- 
 
46 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1141. 
 
 mense slaugliter,by tlie wavlike Thurstan, Archbishop of York, 
 at Cuton-Moor, in an engagement called the Battle of the 
 Standard. Matilda was mainly instrmiiental in negotiating 
 ihe peace which Avas concluded this year between her uncle 
 and her lord. 
 
 The empress made her tardy appearance, in pursuance of 
 lier claims to the crown, in the autumn of 1139. She did not 
 arrive until Stephen had made himself master of the castles, 
 and, what was of more importance to him, the great wealth of 
 liis three refractory prelates, of Salisbury, Ely, and Lincoln. 
 When the empress was shut up within the walls of Arundel 
 Castle, Stephen might by one bold stroke have made her his 
 prisoner ; but he was prevailed upon to respect the high rank 
 of the widow and the daugliter of his benefiictor. King Henry ; 
 nay, he permitted her departure, for he gave to his brother, 
 Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester, the charge of escorting 
 the empress to Bristol Castle. While the Earl of Gloucester, 
 on behalf of his sistei' the empress, was contesting with King 
 Stephen the realm of England at sword's point. Queen Matilda 
 proceeded to France with her son Eustace, and while at that 
 court negotiated a marriage between the Princess Constance, 
 sister of Louis VIL, and her boy, then about four years old. 
 The queen presided at this infant marriage, which was cele- 
 brated with great splendor. Louis VII. solemnly invested 
 his young brother-in-law with the duchy of Normandy, under 
 the direction of the queen his mother. 
 
 It was during the absence of Queen Matilda and her son. 
 Prince Eustace, that the battle, so disastrous to her husband's 
 cause, was fought beneath the walls of Lincoln, on Candlemas 
 Day, 1141. The battle, for which both parties had prepared 
 tiienlselves with a sharp encounter of keen Avords, was "a veiy 
 sore one ;" but it seems as if Stephen had fought better than 
 his followers that day. Even in extremity he refused to give 
 up the fragment of his sword to any one but the Earl of Glou- 
 cester, his valiant kinsman, who conducted his royal captive to 
 the Empress Matilda at Gloucester. The Earl of Gloucester, 
 it is said, treated Stephen Avith some degree of courtesy ; but 
 the Empress Matilda loaded him with indignities, and ordered 
 him into rigorous confinement in Bristol Castle. 
 
 The empress made her triumphant entry into the city of 
 Winchester February Yth, where she Avas received Avith great 
 state by Stephen's brother, Henry de Blois, Bishop of Win- 
 chester and cardinal-legate. David, King of Scotland, Avas 
 ])resent to do honor to his victorious niece. Henry de Blois 
 resigned the regal ornaments and the paltry residue of her 
 
lUl.] 
 
 MATILDA OF BOULOGNP:. 
 
 47 
 
 father's treasure into her liands. The next day he received 
 her Avith great pomp in his catliedral-chiirch, wliere he ex- 
 communicated all the adherents of his unfortunate brother. 
 In this raelanclioly position did Queen Matilda find her hus- 
 band's cause, when she returned from the marriage between 
 the French king's sister and her son, Prince Eustace. She 
 immediately applied herself to the citizens of London ; they 
 knew her virtues, for she had lived among them in Tower- 
 Royal Avith her lord in King Henry's reign ; and the remem- 
 brance of Stephen's free and pleasant conduct disposed the 
 magistracy of London to render every assistance in their 
 power to their unfortunate king. 
 
 Seal of Henry of Bloi^, Bishop of Wiuchestur, aud brother of King Stephen. 
 
 Queen Matilda wrote to the synod held by her husband's 
 brother, Henry de Blois, at Winchester, a letter, which she 
 sent by her chaplain, Christian, who delivered it to the bish- 
 op. The bishop pretended to be ignorant of the queen's hand. 
 
48 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1141. 
 
 and woukl have cast the letter aside, but Christian boldly took 
 it out of his hand and read it aloud. It was an appeal to 
 the clergy in her royal husband's behalf. But the bishop de- 
 clared that the daughter of their late king was lawfully elect- 
 ed as the doniina or sovereign lady of England. 
 
 The empress bore her honors any thing but meekly. She 
 refused to listen to the counsel of her friends ; she treated 
 such of her adversaries whom misfortune drove to seek her 
 clemency with insolence and cruelty ; and when her friends 
 bowed themselves down before her, she did not rise in return. 
 Queen Matilda was unremitting in her exertions for the liber- 
 ation of her unfortunate lord. She proposed, if his life were 
 but spared, that he should not only forever forego all claims 
 upon the crown and succession of England and Normandy, 
 but devote himself to a religious life, either in cloistered seclu- 
 sion or as a pilgrim, on condition that their son. Prince Eus- 
 tace, might be permitted to enjoy, in her right, the territories 
 of Boulogne and Mortagne, the grant of Henry I. Her peti- 
 tion was rejected by the victorious empress with contempt, al- 
 though her suit in this instance was backed by the powerful 
 mediation of Bishop Blois, who was desirous to secure to his 
 nephew his natural inheritance. The obdurate empress, how- 
 ever, repulsed the Bishop Blois so rudely, that when next sum- 
 moned to her presence he refused to come. Queen Matilda 
 improved this difference between her haughty rival and her 
 brother-in-law to her own advantage, in an interview with him 
 at Guildford. Nor did she rest here. In the name of her 
 son. Prince Eustace, scarcely seven years old, aided by William 
 of Ypres (Stci)hen's able minister of state), she raised the 
 standard of her captive lord in Kent and Surrey, and, like a 
 true daughter of the heroic house of Boulogne, prepared her- 
 self for the struggle. 
 
 The empress was not yet recognized as " regina," or female 
 sovereign ; it was needful for that purpose to obtain the con- 
 sent of the London citizens. To London she went for that 
 purpose, and, notwithstanding the popularity of her cousin, 
 Stephen's queen, the citizens, when they heard that the " daugh- 
 ter of Maude, their good queen," claimed their homage, looked 
 Avith reverence on her elder claim, and threw open their gates 
 to receive her with every manifestation of affection. 
 
 The first sentence addressed to them by this haughty claim- 
 ant of the crown of St. Edward was the demand of an enor- 
 mous subsidy. The citizens of London replied by inquiring 
 after the great chnrter granted by her father. "Ye are very 
 impudent to mention pi-ivilegcs and charters to me, when ye 
 
1141.] MATILDA OF BOULOGNE. 49 
 
 have just been supporting my enemies," was the rejoinder. 
 Her heroic brother, Robert of Gloucester, perceiving that the 
 citizens of London were incensed, commenced a civil speech 
 with the words — " Ye citizens of London, who of olden time 
 were called barons . . . ." King David was present at this 
 scene, and earnestly persuaded the empress to adopt a more 
 popular line of conduct. The Londoners craved leave to re- 
 tire to their hall of common council, in order to consider the 
 subsidy. While the empress sat down to her dinner in the 
 banqueting-hall of the new palace at Westminster, a band of 
 horsemen appeared on the other side of the river, and display- 
 ed Stephen's banner. Then the bells of every church in Lon- 
 don clanged forth clamorous tocsins, and from every house 
 rushed forth one armed citizen at the least. The Norman 
 and Angevin chevaliers hastened to provide for the safety of 
 their domina, who rose in haste from table, mounted her 
 horse, and fled at full speed ; before she had well cleared the 
 western suburb, the populace had burst into the palace, and 
 were plundering her apartments. She made for the Oxford 
 road, but her train had become so small with desertion, that 
 excepting Robert of Gloucester and King David, she entered 
 Oxford alone. 
 
 A strong reaction of popular feeling in favor of Stephen's 
 queen took place : the citizens of London joyfully received her 
 within their walls once more. Bishop Blois had been in- 
 duced, more than once, to meet his royal sister-in-law secretly 
 at Guildford. Thither she brought the young prince, her son. 
 Touched by the tears and entreaties of these supplicants of 
 his near kindred, and burning with rage at the insolent treat- 
 ment he had received from the imperial virago, he solemnly 
 promised the queen to forsake the cause of her rival. 
 
 Queen Matilda, with her son and Sir William Ypres, at the 
 head of the Londoners and the Kentishmen, were soon after 
 all admitted within the gates of Winchester. The empress, 
 now closely blockaded in her palace, had ample cause to re- 
 pent of her vindictive folly in rousing the energies of her roy- 
 al cousin's spirit, by repulsing the humble boon she had craved 
 in her despair. For nearly two months the most destructive 
 warfare of famine, fire, and sword was cai'ried on in the streets 
 of Winchester ; till the Empress Matilda, dreading the balls of 
 fire which were nightly thrown from the legate's castle, pre- 
 vailed on her gallant brother, Gloucester, to provide for her 
 retreat. He opened a passage for her through the besiegers 
 at sword's point. She and her uncle David, King of Scotland, 
 by dint of hard riding escaped to Lutgershall ; while Glouces- 
 
 C 
 
50 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1141. 
 
 ter, battling by the way, arrested the pursuit, till, almost all 
 his followers being slain, he was taken prisoner September 14th, 
 1141. 
 
 The empress, whose safe retreat to Liitgershall had been 
 thus dearly purchased by the loss of her great general's liber- 
 ty, being surrounded by the queen's troops at Devizes, only 
 escaped their vigilance by personating a corpse, wrapped in 
 grave-clothes and placed in a coffin, which was borne on the 
 shoulders of some of her trusty partisans to the city of Glou- 
 cester, the stronghold of her valiant brother, where she ar- 
 rived, faint and weary with long fasting and mortal terror. 
 She oifered a large sum of gold, and twelve captive earls of 
 Stephen's party, as her brother's ransom. Queen Matilda de- 
 clared she never would resign this imj^ortant prisoner but in 
 exchange for Stephen ; and caused the Countess of Gloucester 
 to be informed, that unless her terms were accepted, and that 
 speedily, she would send Gloucester to one of her strong cas- 
 tles in Boulogne, there to be kept rigorously. Not that it was 
 in the nature of the queen to make reprisals on a gallant gen- 
 tleman, whom the fortune of war had placed at her disposal ; 
 but as Stephen had been severely incarcerated in Bristol Cas- 
 tle, of which the Countess of Gloucester was the mistress, there 
 was policy in exciting her conjugal fears. Had it not been 
 for this thi'eat, Stephen would never have regained his liberty, 
 for the empress obdurately refused to purchase her brother's 
 freedom by his release. Fortunately the person of Stephen 
 was not in her keeping. The Countess of Gloucester entered 
 into a private treaty with Queen Matilda for the exchange of 
 their illustrious prisoners, the queen giving up herself and 
 young Eustace as hostages until the Earl of Gloucester arrived 
 in exchange, November 1st, 1141, on which day Stephen was 
 liberated and departed from Bristol. 
 
 Queen Matilda was not long permitted to enjoy the reunion 
 which took place between her and her beloved consort, for 
 nothing could induce the empress to listen to any terms of 
 pacification, and 1142 commenced with a renewal of hostilities. 
 While Stephen Avas pursuing the war he was seized with a 
 dangerous malady at Northampton. Matilda hastened to him 
 on the first news of his sickness. It was a retui'n of the lethar- 
 gic complaint with which he had once or twice been afflicted. 
 Through the tender attentions of his queen, Stephen recover- 
 ed, and was able to take the field again ; which he did with 
 such success, that the pai'ty of the empress thought it high 
 time to claim the assistance of her husband, Geoffrey, Count of 
 Anjou, who was now exercising the functions of Duke of Nor- 
 
1147.] MATILDA OF BOULOGNE. 51 
 
 maudy. He demurred, and the empress, impatient to embrace 
 her first-born son, and to obtain the Angevin and Norman 
 succors to strengthen her party, prevailed upon her brother to 
 urge his arrival. Gloucester left her, as he thought, safe in the 
 almost impregnable castle of Oxford, and embarked for Nor- 
 mandy. As soon as he was gone Stephen besieged the em- 
 press in her stronghold. The want of provisions rendered its 
 fall inevitable. One night she, with only four attendants, 
 clothed in white garments, stole through a postern that open- 
 ed upon the river Thames, which at that time was thickly 
 frozen over and covered with snow. Taking horse at Ab- 
 ingdon, they arrived safely at Wallingford the same night. 
 There she was welcomed by her brother, Robert of Glouces- 
 ter, who had just returned from Normandy with her son Prince 
 Henry, at the sight of whom she was greatly comforted. 
 
 During three years' continuance of civil strife, the youthful 
 Henry of Anjou learned the science of arms under the auspices 
 of his redoubted uncle, the Earl of Gloucester, but the Count of 
 Anjou recalled his heir. Gloucester accompanied his princely 
 nephew to Wareham, where they parted, never to meet again ; 
 for that brave earl died of a fever at Gloucester, October 31st, 
 1147, and was interred at Bristol. With this true-hearted 
 brother died the hopes of the Empress Matilda's party for the 
 present ; she soon after quitted England, having alienated all 
 her friends. " Away with her," was the cry of the English 
 population ; " we will not have this Norman woman to reign 
 over us." Yet this unpopular claimant of the throne was the 
 only surviving child of their adored Matilda Atheling, whose 
 virtues and holy temper had not been inherited by her daugh- 
 ter, but her niece and name-child, Matilda of Boulogne, who 
 was her pupil. 
 
 Stephen and his queen kept their Christmas this year, 1147, 
 at Lincoln, with uncommon splendor, for joy of the departure 
 of the empress. 
 
 The mind of Queen Matilda appears, during the year, to have 
 been chiefly directed to devotional matters. It was in 1148 
 that she carried into execution her long cherished design of 
 founding and endowing the hospital for sick and distressed 
 mariners, and the Church of St. Katherine by the Tower. She 
 and Stephen likewise founded the royal Abbey of Fevershara, 
 in Kent, and personally superintended its erection. For many 
 months she resided in the nunnery of St. Austin, Canterbury, 
 to watch the progress of the work, it being her desire to be 
 interred within that stately church. She was at this time in 
 declining health, having gone through many trials and fatigues 
 
52 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1151. 
 
 during the long years of civil war. The care of this popular 
 queen, that the people should be provided with accommoda- 
 tion during public worship, caused her to found the noble 
 Church of St. Mary at Southampton. 
 
 A brief interval of tranquillity succeeded^ an unsuccessful in- 
 vasion by the lineal heir, young Henry of Anjou, but Queen 
 Matilda lived not long to enjoy it. Worn out with cares and 
 anxieties, this admirable princess closed her earthly pilgrim- 
 age at Heningham Castle in Essex, the mansion of Albei'ic de 
 Vere, where she died of a fever, May 3d, 1151, in the fifteenth 
 year of her husband's reign. Stephen Avas forty-seven years 
 old at the time of this his irreparable loss ; Matilda was probably 
 about the same age, or a little younger. This lamented queen 
 was interi'ed in the newly erected Abbey of Feversham, of 
 which she had been a munificent patroness. Her epitaph de- 
 clared " that she lived submissive to God, that she might aft- 
 erward enjoy His presence. If ever Avoman deserved to be 
 carried by the hands of angels to Heaven, it was this holy 
 queen." She had not been dead more than two years when 
 the violent contentions between King Stephen and the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, who refused to crown Prince Eustace, 
 induced Henry of Anjou, who, by his marriage with Eleanora, 
 Duchess of Aquitaine, the divorced Queen of France, had be- 
 come a powerful prince, to try his fortune once more in En- 
 gland. He effected a landing, January, 1153, and marched di- 
 rectly to the relief of his mother's friends at Wallingford, ar- 
 riving at a time when Eustace was carrying on operations in 
 the absence of the king his fathei', who had gone to London 
 to procure fresh supplies of men and money. When the hos- 
 tile armies drew up in battle array, William de Albini, the 
 widower of the late dowager Queen Adelicia, addressed Ste- 
 phen regarding the horrors of civil war, and implored him to 
 avoid slaughter by entering into an amicable arrangement. 
 Stephen and Henry accordingly met for a personal conference 
 in a meadow at Wallingford, with the river Thames flowing 
 between their armies, and there settled the terms of pa- 
 cification — whereby Stephen was to enjoy the crown during 
 his life, on condition of solemnly guaranteeing the succession 
 to Henry, to the exclusion of JPrince Eustace and his other 
 children. Henry, on his part, swore to confirm to them the 
 earldom of Boulogne, the inheritance of their mother the late 
 Queen Matilda, and all the personal property and possessions 
 enjoyed by Stephen during the reign of his uncle, Henry I. 
 
 Prince Eustace was enraged at the manner in which his in- 
 terests had been compi-omised by the treaty of Wallingford, 
 
1154.] MATILDA OF BOULOGNE. 53 
 
 but he did not long sui'vive it, as he died of a brain fever, 
 August 10th, 1153. He was interred at Feversham Abbey, by 
 the side of his mother. Eustace left no children by his wife, 
 Constance of France. William, the third son of Stephen and 
 Matilda, inherited her fief of Boulogne, which, together with 
 that of Mortagne, and all his father's private property, were 
 secured to him by the treaty of Wallingford. He lived 
 peaceably in the succeeding reign, and died in the year 1160, 
 while attending Henry H. on his return home from the siege 
 of Thoulouse. The Lady Marie de Blois, the only surviving 
 daughter of Stephen and Matilda, took the veil, and was 
 abbess of the royal nunnery of Romsey. She was obliged, 
 on account of the failure of heirs, to leave it and marry, but 
 after the birth of sons returned to her abbey. 
 
 King Stephen died at Dover, October 25th, 1154, in the 
 fifty-first year of his age and the nineteenth of his reign. He 
 was buried by the side of his beloved Queen Matilda, and 
 their son Eustace, in the Abbey of Feversham. A noble 
 moinament of Stephen and Matilda still survives the storms 
 and changes of the last seven centuries — the ruins of Furness 
 Abbey — founded, in conjugal unity of purpose, by them soon 
 after their marriage, to relieve distressed shipwrecked sailors 
 on that stormy coast. On becoming King and Queen of En- 
 gland they gave additional immunities to this abbey. The 
 busts of the royal founder and foundress still remain on either 
 side the lofty chancel window. Noble works of art they are, 
 full of life-like individuality. Stephen is a model of manly 
 beauty, with a bold and majestic aspect. There is a chaste 
 simplicity truly classical in Matilda's attitude and costume. 
 Her veil flows from beneath the royal circlet in graceful folds 
 on either side her softly-moulded oval face. This portrait of 
 Matilda is the only contemporary memorial which preserves 
 to posterity an authentic representation of a most interesting 
 queen and admirable woman. 
 
54 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1137. 
 
 Eleanora, wife of llenry II. From her monument at Fontevraud. 
 
 ELEANOEA OF AQUITAINE, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF HENRY II. 
 
 Eleanora of Aquitaine, before she became the wife of onr 
 first Plantagenet king, had been Queen of France by marriage, 
 and she was sovereign of Aquitaine by inheritance. Her do- 
 minions comprised the southern pi'ovinces of Gaul from Biscay 
 to Poitou. She was the eldest daughter and heiress of William, 
 sovereign Count of Poitou, and of his wife Eleanora of Chatel- 
 herault, and was born before the year 1120, when her mother 
 died soon after the birth of Petronilla, Eleanora's youngest sis- 
 ter. The father of Eleanora did not long survive his wife ; 
 he was a crusader, and so pious that his subjects called him 
 St. William. The two little princesses were brought up by their 
 grandfather, the poet Duke of Aquitaine. Eleanora could read 
 and write — wonderful attainments for a princess in her era. 
 She was educated to govern her country as the heiress of her 
 grandfather. 
 
 As war often occurred with Aquitaine, the Avise prime minis- 
 ter of France, Abbe Suger, proposed a marriage between this 
 great heiress and the heir of Louis VI., who had been elect- 
 ed and crowned during the life of his father. His historical 
 name was Louis VH. ; while his father lived he was surnamed 
 Louis the Young. On the marriage of Louis VH. with 
 Eleanora at Bordeaux, August 21st, 1137, her grandsire sur- 
 rendered his dominions to her, put on a hermit's cowl, and 
 
1147.] ELEANORA OF AQUITAINE. 55 
 
 set out on a pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella, in Spain, 
 where he died soon after. 
 
 On the very day of the great threefold solemnity — the 
 marriage of Eleaiiora, the abdication of her grandfather, and the 
 coronation (as Duke and Duchess of Aquitaine) of the bride 
 and bridegroom — Louis VII. was summoned to the death- 
 bed of his father, at the abbey of St. Denis, near Paris. 
 Eleanora accompanied her spouse. Louis VI. was still in pos- 
 session of his faculties when they arrived, and his last words 
 to the youthful sovereigns were, " remember royalty is a 
 public trust, of which a rigorous account will be exacted by 
 the disposer of crowns." Eleanora and her husband made a 
 magnificent entry into Paris, where they were crowned King 
 and Queen of France. She was beautiful, and brilliant in tal- 
 ent, accomplished in music and poetry, and could read and 
 write in Latin. She sang and composed chansons in Pro- 
 ven5al verse, like the troubadours, but she was light in 
 manners and lax in principle. She found the court of France 
 and its young king her husband too rigid in morals. Eleanora 
 ruled her own dominions in separate government. She fre- 
 quently visited them, and was adored by her subjects. Aus- 
 tere as Louis VII. was, she swayed him, but involved him in 
 bloody wars. Petronilla, her beautiful young sister, induced 
 the Count of Vermandois to divorce his wife and to marry her. 
 This the Pope refused to sanction, aiKl Eleanora, enraged at 
 the dishonor of her sister, persuaded her husband to declare war 
 on Thibaut, Count of Champagne, brother of the divorced lady. 
 Battle followed, and worse; for the burning of the cathedral 
 at Vitry took place, in which several hundreds of women and 
 children, who took refuge there, were burnt alive. St. Ber- 
 nard preached against this wickedness ; all parties were struck 
 with penitence, and at his recommendation became crusaders. 
 Eleanora, as sovereign of the south of Gaul, offered an army 
 and granted fleets. The day she took the cross she appeared 
 as an Amazon, her ladies did the same, and all mounted on 
 horseback as her body guard. Suger assured his king that 
 the crusade would prove the ruin of France, but Queen Elea- 
 nora prevailed. Louis VII. took the cross on Whit Sunday, 
 1147, and embarked with the feudal muster of France in 
 the fleet of his queen and ally, with her, her ladies, and army. 
 Subsequently all sailed up the Bosphorus, and landed in Thrace. 
 Their crusade lasted nearly two years, until the fatal defeat at 
 Laodicea, occasioned by the ladies' encumbrance of baggage ; 
 and it was only by the great valor and military skill of their 
 king that the army of France made good their safe retreat to 
 
56 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1152. 
 
 Antioch, then governed by Raymond of Poitou, Eleanora's 
 uncle. Most hospitably the shattered Gallic armies were re- 
 ceived by Prince Raymond, but the queen showed such levity, 
 that Louis withdrew her suddenly one night from Antioch to 
 Jerusalem. Then first arose the question of divorce, to which 
 the queen replied, "they ought never to have married, as they 
 were cousins too near by the laws of the Church." During her 
 stay in Jerusalem the queen was under some restraint. The roy- 
 al pair returned to France in enmity, November, 1149. Suger, 
 however, reconciled them, representing to the king that as 
 they were the parents of an infant daughter, who was at pres- 
 ent heiress to her mother's dominions, it were wrong to run 
 the risk of disinheriting that child. However, Louis VIL and 
 Suger kept Eleanora from visiting the south, equally to the 
 rage of herself and subjects. The giddy queen mocked per- 
 petually at her husband, who dressed very plainly, shaved close- 
 ly, and cut ofi" his long curls, which made him look, she said, 
 " more like a monk than a royal warrior." GeofiVey Planta- 
 genet brought his son Henry to Paris, to do homage for Nor- 
 mandy in right of his wife, the Empress Matilda. 
 
 Eighteen months after the visit of the Angevin princes, the 
 queen brought into the world the Princess Alice. No son had 
 she given to Louis VII. The death of Geofii-ey Plantagenet 
 again brought Henry Plantagenet in 1150 to Paris, Avhere he 
 performed homage as Duke of Normandy to Louis VII. The 
 Queen of France told Henry " that if she could get divorced 
 from Louis, she would lend him a fleet and men to wrest his 
 kingdom of England from King Stephen." 
 
 Louis VII. seized several of the fortresses in the south for 
 his daughter, but he found that the queen of the south was 
 stronger in power than the king of the north. Finally, the 
 marriage between Louis VII. and Eleanora of Aquitaine was 
 dissolved by a council of the Church at Baugenci, March 18th, 
 1152, as being within prohibited cousinship of the fourth de- 
 gree. Henry and Eleanora, with their relatives, met at Bau- 
 genci, and were present when the sentence was pronounced. 
 Eleanora, after some stay at Blois, where she refused the hand 
 of Count Thibaut, the brother of Stephen, King of England, 
 embarked on the Loire toward her own country, after escaping 
 Geoff'rey Plantagenet, Avho waylaid her, meaning to supplant 
 his brother. She met Henry Plantagenet, to whom she had 
 promised marriage months before the divorce was declared, and 
 was united to him at Bordeaux, her native capital, on May Day, 
 1152. Her eldest son William was born August l7th, in fact 
 a few weeks after. Eleanora was sovereign of a maritime coun- 
 
1154-1155] ELEANORA OF AQUITAINE. 57 
 
 try, whose ships were used equally for war and commerce. 
 Henry Plantagenet, taking advantage of his wife's power, em- 
 barked from Harfleur, and sailed with thirty-six ships to claim 
 England. 
 
 Stephen acknowledged liim as his successor, and at this time 
 it is supposed that he deceived the beautiful Rosamond Clifford 
 under the pretense of marriage. Henry left England in less than 
 twelve months. On his return the news arrived of King Ste- 
 phen's death and his own succession. He did not hurry him- 
 self to return to England, but bringing Eleanora and her infant 
 boy to Harfleur, they waited there six weeks, had a dangerous 
 passage, and landing at Osterham, December 8th, 1154, they 
 proceeded to Winchester and thence to London. They were 
 crowned in Westminster Abbey, December 19th, 1154. Elea- 
 nora was queen of the seas ; it Avas her fleets cruising be- 
 tween France and England that kept all secure, so that her 
 husband obtained his rightful inheritance. 
 
 The coronation of the King of England and the luxurious 
 lady of southern Gaul was without parallel for magnificence. 
 Silk and brocade, which she had brought from Constantinoi^le, 
 then the capital of the Greek emperors, had never been seen 
 before in the realm. The queen wore a kirtle with light 
 sleeves, or under gown of Cyprus silk ; a pelisson, or open 
 robe of brocade, with very full fur sleeves, over it ; a circlet 
 of gems confined the coverchef, a square handkerchief of gauze 
 or lace that served for veil and cap. The king at his corona- 
 tion appeared with short hair ; he wore mustaches, but his 
 beard was shaven; he was attired in the short Angevin 
 cloak, which costume gained him the surname of Court, or 
 Short Mantle. 
 
 The king soon withdrew Eleanora into the retirement of Ber- 
 mondsey Palace, where she gave birth to a boy named Henry, 
 the last day of February, 1155. The English considered Henry 
 II. as the representative of their ancient Saxon line. "Thou 
 art," they said in their petitions, " the son of the glorious Em- 
 pi-ess Matilda, whose mother was Matilda Atheling, daughter 
 to Margaret, saint and queen, whose father was King Ed- 
 mund Ironside, great grandson to Alfred the Great," And 
 in recapitulating this descent, our young readers must remem- 
 ber that it holds good for our present Queen Victoria, with 
 some centuries intervening. In answer to the coronation 
 addresses, Henry II., by the advice of his empress mother, 
 convened an assembly of the people and clergy at Walling- 
 ford, March, 1156, where he swore to confirm the Great 
 Charter or Magna Charta. Eleanora appeared at this sol- 
 
 C * 
 
58 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1159. 
 
 eran convocation with her two little sons ; the baronage of 
 England kissed their hands, and swore to recognize them in 
 the succession. The oldest, Prince William, about four years 
 old, died soon after. English-born Henry then became the heir 
 of Henry II. and Eleanora. 
 
 The favorite royal residences were the palaces of Westmin- 
 ster and Winchester, and the sylvan castle at Woodstock. The 
 queen's amusements were chiefly dramatic. Peter of Blois, 
 the king's tutor, congratulated his brother William on the suc- 
 cess of his Latin tragedy of Flaura and Marcus, acted before 
 the queen. Peter describes the person of his king, saying, that 
 " he was of middle stature, so that among little men he was 
 not overmuch, nor among tall men looked he little. His 
 head round, in token of great wit; his cuiiy hair clipped 
 squai'e shows a lyonous visage. High insteps, he has legs 
 able in riding. Long champion arms and broad breast. His 
 court is a school for well-lettered men, and in his conversa- 
 tion Avith them he is ever discussing questions. None is 
 more honest (truthful) than our king in speaking, nor in 
 alms more bountiful." Such is the portrait drawn of the 
 great Henry II. by one who knew and loved him well. 
 
 Between Queen Eleanora and Henry there was a diiference 
 of years too great for perfect union ; the age of the wife ex- 
 ceeded that of the husband by twelve years. 
 
 During one of his visits to England, Henry II. had formed an 
 attachment to a lady of his own age, Rosamond, the beautiful 
 daughter of Lord Clifford. He had secretly married her, and 
 immured her in a small house diflicult of access in Woodstock 
 foi'est. To this wickedness all his si;bsequent unhappiness 
 may be traced. One day the queen saw him in Woodstock 
 Chase with a ball of floss silk sticking to his spur ; she took 
 up the end and followed him unseen through the thicket, to 
 the little lodge where Rosamond lived unknown. The queen 
 watched her royal partner to a bower, where sat a fair young- 
 lady working silk embroidery ; then she knew how he came 
 by the ball of floss silk on his spur. Eleanora withdrew un- 
 perceived, but when Henry was gone, broke into the presence 
 of her rival, and violently reproached her. Rosamond then for 
 the first time heard that her husband was a married man. 
 Story books tell how Eleanora used poison or drugs. She 
 threatened both, yet she did her no harm, as Rosamond lived 
 for years. But finding she had been deceived, and that the 
 two promising sons she had borne to Henry II. were illegiti- 
 mate, she retired to Godstow nunnery. These facts occurred 
 in the third year of Henry II.'s royalty, as existing charters 
 
11G4-11G7.] ELEANORA OF AQUITAINE. 59 
 
 prove grants to Godstow on behalf of Rosamoiul, both by- 
 Henry II. and the Chtibrds. 
 
 Eleaiiora continued to increase the royal family. Her best 
 loved son, Richard, was born at the royal palace of Beau-Monte, 
 in Oxford. He was suruauied Coeur de Lion, from his mag- 
 nanimous qualities. Another son was born at Worcester, 
 September '23d, 1159, handsomer than any, and named Geof- 
 frey. Henry betrothed this babe to Constance, eighteen months 
 old, orphan heiress of Conan, Duke of Bretagne. 
 
 Eleanora governed England as queen-regent during the ab- 
 sence of the king. She presented her lord, on his return from 
 Bretagne, with a beautiful little princess named Matilda. 
 
 The king's favorite, Lord-Chancellor Becket, had the personal 
 charge of the heir, Prince Henry, and the Princess of France, 
 Marguerite, his little wife, the daughter of Louis VII. Both 
 children loved Becket passionately. 
 
 Stephen Becket, devotedly attached to the race of Alfred, 
 had followed Edgar Atheling's banner'in his crusades, and was 
 taken prisoner. A Mahometan chief's daughter having aided 
 his escape, he promised her marriage. After Stephen success- 
 fully arrived in London, the Syrian princess escaped to En- 
 gland. When she entered London she knew not a word of En- 
 glish, nor where to find her lover, whose Christian name how- 
 ever she remembered well. So she wandered up and down 
 Cheapside, a quieter place than it is now, reiterating mournfully 
 " Stephen ! Stephen !" and as Stephen was portreeve, he soon 
 heard her, led her home, had her baptized, and married her. 
 Their eldest son Thomas proved one of the cleverest 'and 
 handsomest men in the island. Educated in the Church, 
 though not of it, he was an archdeacon, who might leave it 
 and marry if he pleased ; but he was not an ordained priest, 
 and was very gay and merry, a favorite of Henry II., his prime 
 minister, and lord-chancellor. 
 
 The Anglo-Norman kings were always coveting the vast 
 revenues that passed through the hands of the Church. There 
 were no poor-rates or union poor-houses ; the clergy supported 
 the destitute, and employed those who could work chiefly in 
 agricultural or j^astoral pursuits or architecture. The Nor- 
 man sovereigns at the death of a prelate often kept the reve- 
 nues of church lands and tithes in their hands as long as pos- 
 sible, whereby the poor were starved and deprived of certain 
 employment. The king endeavored to restrict the power of 
 the clergy, but having made Becket primate, he found his fa- 
 vorite took the part of the Church against him. Contention 
 ensued, but matters grew Avorse after he held the council 
 
60 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1171-1173, 
 
 of Clarendon, 1164, when the king's wishes were confirmed by 
 a majority of English prelates. Becket excommunicated them 
 all, left England, and sought the protection of the Pope. At 
 this juncture died the Empress Matilda, September 10th, 
 1167, just as she had, with some appearance of good will to 
 Becket, endeavored to mediate the quarrel. 
 
 Meantime Queen Eleanora brought the king a large family 
 of Euglish-born sons and daughters. Her youngest son John 
 saw the light first at Woodstock, 1167 ; he was his father's 
 
 Ruins of ancient Manor House of Woodstock, as lliey appealed liefore their removal in 1714. 
 
 favorite child. Richard was the beloved of his mother, and 
 was brought up chiefly at Poitou, with the prospect of govern- 
 ing his mother's southern dominions, not independently, but 
 after feudal homage done to his father and mother and his eld- 
 er brother Henry. Eleanora had three daughters, Matilda, 
 married to Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony, from whom Queen 
 Victoria, her consort, and children are directly descended. 
 
1171.] ELEANOR A OF AQUITAINE. 61 
 
 Priucess Eleanora was married to Alphonse, heir of Castle, 
 and Joanna to William the Good, King of Sicily. 
 
 Qneen Eleanora assumed the regency of Normandy on the 
 death of the empress, for rebellion had ensued. When that was 
 suppressed, her own subjects, who had never seen her since 
 she was Queen of England, likewise became insurgent, and 
 thither she repaired to Bordeaux, and was received with tears 
 of joy, poems of welcome, and profuse expenditure. 
 
 Henry II. meantime was quarreling with Becket. The 
 king was subject to violent fits of passion. He made some 
 fui'ious exclamations against Becket, whereupon four of the 
 knights of his chamber, taking their battle-axes, went and cut 
 down the ai'chbishop when ofiiciating at the altar of Canter- 
 bury Cathedral, which was stained with his blood, December 
 31st, 1171. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 IMPORTUNATELY for Queeu Eleanora, she was safely at Bor- 
 deaux, her native capital city, when Becket's murder was pei'- 
 petrated. All Europe was aghast at it, and from that hour her 
 husband's prosperity ceased. He chose to be sovereign ruler 
 in her dominions, and sent to displace all her state ministers, 
 and curb the free and haughty south with garrisons of his vet- 
 erans. Eleanora told her sons Richard and Geoffrey they owed 
 no obedience in Guienne and Poitou to any king of England, 
 onl}'- to the sovereign lord of France. When Henry II. brought 
 his heir, the young king, in 1173, to assist in receiving the long- 
 delayed homage of Raymond, Count of Thoulouse, that noble, 
 rising from his knees, said, " As I have sworn to inform you, 
 as my sovereign, of all dangers, I warn you, oh king ! to be- 
 wai-e of your wife and sons !" That night his eldest son, the 
 young king, though he always slept in his father's bedroom, 
 decamped simultaneously with his brothers Richard and Geof- 
 frey to France. Eleanora Avas likewise running away the same 
 night to the protection of her former spouse (Louis VII.), 
 dressed in male habiliments, when Henry II.'s Norman troops 
 encountered her and brought her back very insultingly. After- 
 ward there was no concord between Henry II. and Eleanora. 
 The king brought her to England, embarking at Barfleur and 
 landing at Southampton, July, 1173, He carried her as a cap- 
 tive to Canterbury, where he suffered the ignominious penance 
 of scourging at the altar of the cathedral, as atonement for 
 
62 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1173-1179. 
 
 the death of Thomas a Becket, who M'as forthwith canonized 
 without the usual delay, and by the name of St. Thomas of 
 Canterbury became the favorite saint of western Europe. 
 
 Now commenced that long mysterious imprisonment at 
 Winchester Castle which occupied the rest of Eleanora's mar- 
 ried life. A rival took her place at the English court. The 
 Princess Alice, the daughter of Eleanora's former husband 
 Louis VII. by his succeeding queen, had been betrothed to 
 Richard Coeur de Lion, and consigned to his father for educa- 
 tion in England. This princess attracted the affection of her 
 father-in-law, and instead of wedlock with Prince Richard, 
 Henry II. placed her in his wife's place, as first lady in the 
 land, occasioning life-long wars between hig sons, France, and 
 himself, besides his captive queen's subjects, Avho were ever 
 rising in rebellion, with one or other of his sons as leaders ; 
 and those princes, when not warring with their sire, were fight- 
 ing with each other. 
 
 Rosamond Clifford expired at Godstow of a long wasting 
 illness, induced by her penitent austerities during twenty years' 
 seclusion. As her death occurred about the time the queen 
 was imprisoned, many false statements occur concerning Rosa- 
 mond. It was however a youthful shameless rival flourishing 
 at the English court that wronged Eleanora. The sons of 
 Rosamond, at this time twenty-two and twenty, were the pride 
 of England for valor and learning. William, Earl of Salisbury, 
 surnamed Long-espee, was ranked next to his brother Richard 
 for martial prowess. Geoffrey, the young ecclesiastic, was learn- 
 ed and saintly. 
 
 Prince Richard, enraged at the treatment of his mother and 
 the strange exaltation of his own betrothed wife, invaded En- 
 gland with the aid of Louis VII., and in company with William 
 the Lion, King of Scotland, Avho met with complete defeat. 
 Nevertheless Eleanora's sons kept up civil war with their fa- 
 ther for several years, until something like a general pacifica- 
 tion took place through the mediation of Louis VII., who came 
 on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket. As 
 King Louis went to Winchester he probably saw his foi-mer 
 Avife, who in 1179 had milder confinement, in a sort of palace 
 restraint, under the care of Robert Glanville, Henry II.'s great 
 justiciary and general. Louis VII. caught his death of cold in 
 his vigil by Becket's tomb, which he had visited on the fool- 
 ish errand of praying to him as a saint for the life of his young 
 heir, Philip Augustus, supposed to be then dying; yet the 
 father expired and the son lived. 
 
 In the midst of a struggle for independent sovereignty 
 
1179-1184.] ELEANORA OF AQUITAINE. 03 
 
 against his sive, Eleanova's eldest son, the young King Henry, 
 died very penitent for his sins against an indulgent father. 
 Henry II. mourned the loss of his turbulent heir with the pas- 
 sionate grief of David for Absalom. The death of young Henry 
 for a short time reunited Henry and Eleanora in mutual grief. 
 Prince Richard now became heir apparent of both England 
 and Aquitaine. He himself, at the age of twenty-seven, hav- 
 ing in vain demanded his betrothed Alice, then twenty-three, 
 and finding she was still detained from him, formed an attach- 
 ment to a princess of great excellence, Berengaria, daughter 
 of King Sancho of Navarre. Reports that Henry II. meant to 
 divorce Qi^^n Eleanora and marry the Princess Alice, impelled 
 Richard to seize his mother's inheritance. All the south was 
 insurgent; the troubadours, animated the population to fight 
 for their native Sovereign. "Daughter of Aquitania," they 
 sang in theiv tensons or war songs, " fair fruitful vine, thou 
 hast been torn from thy loving people and led into a strange 
 land. The voice of thy harp is changed, and thy songs to the 
 "vvail of mourning. Born among us in the bosom of wealth, 
 thou enjoyedst the sports of- thy women, and their songs to 
 the lute and tabor; now thou weepest and consumest thyself 
 with sorrow. Return, poor prisoner, return to thy southei-n 
 cities, if thou canst. Where are thy guards, thy royal escort ? 
 where thy maiden train, thy counselors of state? Some drag- 
 ged far from thy country have suifered cruel deaths, others 
 have been deprived of sight. Thou criest, but the king of the 
 north keeps thee shut up. Cry then, cease not to cry ; raise 
 thy voice that thy sons may hear it. Fly, ye that inhabit the 
 coast ; fly before Richard, Duke of Aquitaine, for he shall anni- 
 hilate all who bar him entrance into Saintonge." 
 
 For more than two years the Angevin subjects of Henry 
 II. and the Proven9al subjects of his queen gave fierce battle 
 to each other, and rebellion prevailed from Rochelle to 
 Bayonne. Geoflrey Plantagenet held out Limoges in the 
 name of his mother, and the arrows of his cross-bowmen were 
 aimed from the castle against his father's life. In a truce of 
 conference the king presented an arrow to Geofi'rey which" 
 had been just shot through his horse's ear. "Tell me, 
 Geofi'rey," he said, " what has thine unhappy father done to 
 thee, that thou shouldst make him a mark for thine archers ?" 
 Geoffrey was greatly shocked, asked pardon, and made peace. 
 Richard had, however, conquered the whole of Aquitaine, 
 when Henry II. brought Eleanora to Bordeaux, and bade him 
 surrender his conquests to his mother. Richard, seeing that 
 Queen Eleanora was now treated as sovereign of the south, did 
 
64 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 1187.] 
 
 SO cheerfully. Yet after a few months Henry sent his queen 
 to England, and placed her in palace restraint. Geoffrey 
 Plantagenet went to Paris to assist at a grand tournament, 
 where he was overthrown in the melee, and trodden to death 
 under the feet of the chargers. He is buried at Notre Dame. 
 In one of Eleanora's Latin letters she makes this touching 
 mention of her grief for the loss of her sons : " The younger 
 king (her son Henry) and the Count of Bretagne both sleep 
 in the dust, whilst I, their wretched mother, am compelled to 
 live on, tortured by the recollections of the dead." 
 
 The misfortunes of Duke Arthur, the posthumous heir of 
 Geoffrey, began before his birth, March 29th, 118V, and they 
 were confirmed at his baptism. It was the pleasure of Henry 
 II. and Queen Eleanora that the boy, whom they looked upon 
 as the heir presumptive to England after Richard, should bear 
 the name of Henry ; but Duchess Constance and her Bretons 
 gave him the national name of Arthur, dear to the Celtic 
 races, to the great offense of the Plantagenets. Fearful that 
 Constance should marry her husband's brother. Prince John, 
 Avho seemed to seek her, Henry II. forced her to marry one 
 of his nobles, the Earl of Chester. 
 
 Rumors that the king meant to crown John as heir of En- 
 gland in his own lifetime made Prince Richard fly to arms ; 
 and aided by Philip, King of France, again marched to compel 
 his father to give him his wife Alice, or to release him from 
 his engagement. Henry II. sent Prince John with a fleet of 
 Eleanora's ships to conquer Ireland, promising him that king- 
 dom, in order to give some color to his intended recognition 
 as heir of England. Although the Pope had sent John a 
 crown of peacock's feathers for his Irish coronation, he did 
 not add to the minute territory of the English pale, but return- 
 ed very quickly in 1185. Some trace his surname of Lackland 
 to the paucity of his domain in Ireland. Time wore away im- 
 easily. Richard had attained his thirtieth yeai-, and his bride 
 Alice her twenty-seventh. As she was still detained from 
 him, he flew to arms, and with the assistance of Philip, King 
 of France, defeated his father in every engagement they had 
 in Normandy. Henry II. was forced into a disgraceful peace 
 at Vezelai, where he met Philip and Richard. He returned 
 to Chinon in an agony of wrath, having found that his favor- 
 ite son John had escaped to his enemies and taken part against 
 hira. He cursed his sons so awfully that the prelates in his 
 train vainly entreated him to recall his malediction. Henry's 
 sons by Rosamond were with him in his reverses of fortune, 
 aiding and comforting him. "Thou art my true son and 
 
1189.] ELEANORA OF AQUITAINE. G5 
 
 heir," exclaimed he to the noble Long-espee ; " the others are 
 illegitimate." Henry said a few words to the youngest, 
 Geoffrey, and gave him a magnificent ring, which it seems 
 was the episcopal ring of the See of York, leant his head on 
 his bosom, and expired, July 6th, 1189. 
 
 King Richard suffered great remorse when he learned how 
 his father had died, but marched to perform his obsequies at 
 the fixmily burial-place of Fontevraud, in Anjou, where the 
 royal corpse had been brought fi'om Chinon, and lay with the 
 fece uncovered by the altar, the features still expressing the 
 violent anger which had occasioned his death. Richard en- 
 tered the abbey. He shuddered, and knelt before the altar to 
 pray, when the blood burst from his dead father's lips, to the 
 horror of all beholders, but most to that of the penitent son. 
 Henry II. had died from rupture of the heart, often the result 
 of great rage. 
 
 The first step taken by Richard I. at his accession was the 
 release of his queen mother from her prison palace at Win- 
 chester, and he conferred upon her the regency of England 
 during his absence. She immediately made a progress- 
 justiciary throughout England, greatly needed, as the jails 
 were full of poor prisoners, who had been for years awaiting 
 their trials for small offenses or none. The circuits of judges 
 that held assizes at county towns or cities were suspended, or 
 not properly organized. The royal widow declared she had 
 been long enough a prisoner to feel for others in like case. 
 
 King Richard, in his indignation at his mother's long im- 
 prisonment, had commanded her castellan, Ranulph de Glan- 
 ville, the day she was released, to be thrown into the deepest 
 dungeon of Winchester Castle, and loaded with chains that 
 weighed one thousand pounds. Yet Eleanora showed no 
 hatred to him and no disgust of her prison, for she returned 
 to Winchester as to herhome, after her wise and humane 
 justiciary progress. When her beloved son, Richard I., 
 landed at Portsmouth, August 12, 1189, and hastened to her 
 arms, she brought no railing accusation against the heavily- 
 chained prime minister in the dungeons, but advised her son 
 to see him, and inquire the contents of his father's secret 
 treasure-vault under Winchester Cathedral. Glanville gave 
 an enchanting account of the treasures, and proved all he 
 said. Richard I. reinstated hira in all his offices. One piece 
 of revenge, however, Eleanora and Richard indulged in. They 
 put the Princess Alice in the same kind of captivity Queen 
 Eleanora had long endured ; and Richard implored his moth- 
 er to aid him in obtaining the lady he loved, by going in em- 
 
66 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1189. 
 
 bassy to ask her hand of her sire Sancho, King of Navarre, as 
 soon as he was crowned, Avhich ceremony took place Septem- 
 ber 3d, 1189. It was fatally distinguished by a terrible mas- 
 sacre of the Jews throughout England. Neither Richard I. 
 nor his mother were blamable, for the people acted thus 
 rather out of jealousy that Queen Eleanora's subjects encour- 
 aged the usurious Israelites. 
 
 Directly Eleanora's widow-dower was settled by her loving 
 sou, she departed on her embassy, stated in the next biogra- 
 phy. On her return she governed England as queen-regent 
 with great talent. Our seamen received from this great lady 
 of the south their first naval code, being avowedly modeled 
 from that of01eron,the most noted maritime guild in Europe. 
 
 There is yet much to be told of her proceedings, although 
 Eleanora had arrived at the age when the human frame re- 
 quires rest.* She had much to do and suffer before she could 
 enter into the peace for which her chastened spirit intensely 
 longed. 
 
 * To prevent repetition, the life of Eleanora is comprehended in the two 
 ensuing biographies. 
 
111)1.] BEEENGARIA. 67 
 
 Berengaria. 
 
 BERENGAEIA, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF RICHARD I., SURNAMED CCEUR DE LION. 
 
 Our second Pi-oven9al queen, Berengaria, was daughter of 
 Sancho the Wise, King of JSTavarre, and Beatrice, Princess of 
 Castille. Both Sancho the Wise and his heroic son, Sancho 
 the Strong, had gained great glory by repelling the Moors, 
 who then threatened western Europe. Richard Plantagenet 
 first saw the Princess of Navarre at a grand tournament given 
 by King Sancho at Pampeluna, his capital city. The entangle- 
 ment with Alice of F'rance prevented their marriage, but a 
 long engagement ensued. The friendship of Rii;hard for her 
 brother, and the kindness Queen Eleanora had received from 
 King Sancho, who had made Henry II. ameliorate the first 
 rigors of her imprisonment, caused her to approve highly of 
 her son's marriage with Berengaria. She undertook the em- 
 bassy concerning it joyfully. The proposal was accepted by 
 the King of Navarre ; and he entrusted Berengaria to the care 
 of the queen, who set out with her to cross Italy to the Bay 
 of Naples, King Richard having appointed to meet them at 
 Messina, on his voyage to the crusade. Berengaria and Elea- 
 nora waited during the spring of 1191 at Brindisi. Richard 
 was well known to his betrothed, but etiquette now forbade 
 him to approach her until the council convened at Messina 
 should declare him free from the claims of Alice, whom Philip 
 of France afiected to consider as his wife. At length that king. 
 
68 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1191. 
 
 who was too well aware of all that could be proved against 
 his sister's honor, agreed to receive her back on the restora- 
 tion of Gisors, her dower-city, and the payment of 50,000 
 crowns. The council of the Church then declared King 
 Richard free to marry any other woman. Much time having 
 been consumed in these negotiations, and King Richard press- 
 ed to sail with his contingent for the crusade, he and Berenga- 
 ria resolved to marry at leisure in the Holy Land, particularly 
 as a friend was ready to accompany the princess thither. 
 Joanna, the young Queen of Naples, recently left a widow, 
 with an enormous dower, by King William, had been robbed 
 and imprisoned by his successor. Joanna's wrongs were 
 speedily righted by the valiant arm of her lion-hearted broth- 
 er, and her oppressor, Tancred, had to restore her wealth. 
 
 Queen Eleanora had scai'cely time to see her daughter be- 
 fore she was forced to sail on her homeward voyage. She 
 gave Berengaria into the charge of the young queen, bidding 
 her " tell her brother to marry that damsel speedily, as he ' 
 valued her blessing." Then commenced the friendship be- 
 tween Joanna and Berengaria, that never ended but with life, 
 which made the Provengal chroniclers say or rather sing — 
 
 "They held each other dear, 
 And lived as doves in cage ;" 
 
 shut up together while the crusade campaign lasted. They 
 sailed in the same galley, the strongest of the fleet, under the 
 care of Sir Stephen de Turnham, embarking on the departure 
 of Queen Eleanora, who went to her regency in England. 
 
 The crusading force of Richard consisted of 150 merchant- 
 ships for transporting soldiers, and 50 war-galleys rowed with 
 oars. He led the van in the largest, called " Trenc-the-mer," 
 or " Cut the sea," which carried a huge lantern at the poop to 
 rally the fleet in the night. Thus the force sailed for Acre, 
 which Philip, King of France, had begun to besiege. A 
 violent storm scattered the whole armament. Two galleys 
 were wrecked on the coast of Cyprus, which is opposite to 
 the Mediterranean sea-board of Palestine. A third galley, 
 wherein was the Lord-Chancellor of England and the great 
 seal, foundered in the storm. Berengaria's ship made the 
 harbor of Famagusta, but was inhospitably driven to sea again 
 by the despot Isaac, who ruled the island. The princesses 
 were sorely distressed with sea-sickness and terrors for 
 Richard's safety, as his galley could not be seen. He had 
 made with the rest of his fleet a friendly harbor in Crete. 
 When the storm abated he entered the Bay of Famagusta, 
 
1191.] BERENGARIA. 69 
 
 where Isaac,, who called himself Emperor of Cyprus, with his 
 people, were busy plundering Richard's Avrecks. Richard 
 suggested the propriety of their desisting, but received an 
 answer so uncivil that he gave them instant battle ; and the 
 quarrel ended in Richard's capture of the whole island and 
 its city in a few hours. He presented the captive Isaac to his 
 bride, loaded with silver chains, and gave his daughter, a 
 beautiful Greek girl, to wait upon her. 
 
 While Richard waited for the reassembling and refitting of 
 his fleet, he married Berengaria, and with great pomp had her 
 crowned Queen of England and Cyprus. At this solemnity 
 Queen Berengaria wore a double crown, her hair parted on 
 the brow, her dark tresses in great profusion flowing from 
 under her crown ; her mantilla veil white, and her white 
 lawn dress gathered modestly round the throat d la vierge. 
 Bands of jewels confined it at the waist and bosom. Richard 
 was a very gay bridegroom, wearing a rose-colored satin 
 tunic belted round his waist, and a mantle of striped silver 
 tissue brocaded with crescents. His sword of Damascus 
 steel had a silver scaled sheath. A scarlet brocaded bonnet 
 was on his head. His Spanish steed was led before him, 
 saddled and bitted with gold ; two little gold lions on the 
 crupper stood holding their paws in the act of striking. 
 " Richard," says one of his crusading chroniclers then present, 
 had " yellow curling hair, a bright complexion, a form like 
 Mars himself, and appeared a perfect model of military and 
 manly grace." 
 
 Thus was this royal wedding celebrated in the joyous month 
 of May, 1191. Richard made not the least scruple of plunder- 
 ing Limoussa, leaving the despot Isaac imprisoned, and carry- 
 ing away the Greek princess, his daughter, as a captive. 
 
 The voyage was short to Palestine, but Richard encountered 
 a large Saracen war-ship, called a dromond, and though it cast 
 Greek fire, which burnt on water like petroleiim, he succeeded 
 in capturing it with great spoils. His princesses were not wit- 
 nesses of the fight ; they again embarked with Stephen de 
 Turnhara. Indeed, it was rather dangerous to be shipmate 
 with Richard, who gave battle to all he met. Berengaria and 
 Joanna arrived first in the Bay of Acre, where the whole 
 French army turned out to receive them with the honors of 
 war ; and Philip the king, though much grieved at the dis- 
 grace of his sister Alice, behaved with high courtesy to the 
 bride of Richard, lifting her out of the boat in his arras. The 
 aid of the bellicose King Richard, when he sailed in with his 
 prize taken on the seas, soon caused the capture of Acre. 
 
70 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1102. 
 
 Richard established the royal ladies in harem seclusion in a 
 tower still known as that of King Richard. It does not seem 
 that Berengaria and Joanna ever left their guarded seclusion 
 during about eighteen months, which King Richard spent in 
 acts of daring valor, chivalric generosity, and great impru- 
 dence. He soon found himself surrounded with implacable 
 enemies, Philip of France was aggrieved concerning Alice ; 
 the Duke of Austria was greatly enraged at the capture of 
 the Greek princess, who (as one of the family of the Emperors 
 Coraneni) was related to himself. Once Richard was in 
 sight of Jerusalem, but he hid his face and would not look 
 upon it, as the feuds of the Christain princes prevented him 
 from relieving the sacred city. Richard won the battle of 
 Jaffii with great display of heroism, but bringing no result 
 excepting the admiration of his Saracen opponents, who for 
 centuries afterward preserved the remembrance of Melec-Ric, 
 as they called him. On his side he declared he greatly pre- 
 ferred the generous and chivalric Prince of Miscreants, as the 
 crusaders called Saladin, to the crafty Philip of France or the 
 brutal Leopold of Austria. 
 
 It was September 29th, 1192, in full conviction of the hope- 
 lessness of the contest, that Richard caused his royal ladies to 
 re-embark at Acre under the care of Sir Stephen cle Turnham. 
 They were still attended by the Cypriot princess. What 
 had become of all Richard's war-galleys is unknown, or where 
 his army had vanished. He took passage in a vessel belong- 
 ing to the Master of the Temple, and put on the disguise of a 
 Templar, attended only by a boy as page. The ship was 
 wrecked on the coast of Istria, and Richard had to travel 
 through the provinces of his enemy, Leopold of Austria. Ow- 
 ing to the folly of his page, he was seized in his Templar dis- 
 guise, sitting by the fire of an inn kitchen, turning the fowls 
 roasting for dinner. Richard made desperate resistance, but 
 was dragged to the Castle of Tenebreuse in Styria, and con- 
 fined in a prison-room at the top, still in existence. 
 
 Better fortune attended the vessel that bore the freight of 
 the three royal ladies ; it arrived without accident at Naples. 
 Berengaria was greatly alarmed lest some harm had befallen 
 her lord, as she saw at Rome, exposed for sale, a belt of jewels, 
 which she knew Avas on his person at the time she took leav^e 
 of him when she embai-ked at Acre. Her destination was 
 Poitou, whither she traveled with Queen Joanna, under the 
 escort of the Count of St. Gilles — a crusader returning to his 
 home. He voluntarily undertook this oflSce, although the son 
 of Queen Eleanora's enemy, Raymond, Count of Thoulouse. 
 
1192.] BERENGARIA. 71 
 
 Raymond still continued his old practices, and had drawn on 
 himself severe chastisement from Sanclio the Strong, Berenga- 
 ria's warlike brother, as Raymond had invaded Richard's 
 territory in his absence, over which Sancho was keeping 
 guard. The Count of St. Gilles fell in love with Joanna while pro- 
 tecting Queen Berengaria on their dangerous homeward jour- 
 ney. As Eleanora and all her allies were glad to make peace 
 by marriage, Joanna was wedded, at Berengaria's dower-city 
 of Poitou, with the chivalric heir of the troublesome Raymond. 
 
 All went well excepting the unaccountable loss of King 
 Richard. No trace of him existed in western Europe but 
 the belt of jewels which had been recognized by Berengaria. 
 At last Blondel, a troubadour knight shipwrecked with him, 
 who had been seeking him for many months on the coasts of 
 the Adriatic, heard an illustrious prisoner was confined in the 
 tower of Tenebreuse. No one could tell his name. Blondel, 
 to ascertain if the captive was his lord, sang beneath the walls 
 of Tenebreuse the first verse of a tenson which he and the 
 king had composed together. Richard immediately answer- 
 ed with the second stanza. Blondel instantly departed to 
 Qreen Eleanora, and told her that her son was alive and the 
 place of his detention. It was time ; for in the supposition 
 of his death, the dominions of Richard, hitherto very peacea- 
 ble under the guardianship of his mother and his faithful 
 friends, were attacked on all sides, his worthless bi'other John 
 having been the first to revolt in England. His intention 
 was, having just been divorced from the wife of his youth, 
 Anne, heiress of Gloucester, to wed Alice, whom his mother 
 still detained prisoner. Queen Eleanora naturally heard of 
 this disgusting project with horror and dismay. 
 
 Let our readers dismiss from their minds the assertion of 
 many petty histories, that Eleanora of Aquitaine encouraged 
 John's rebellion against his brother, because it is false. Here 
 are her real sentiments in her Latin letter to the Pope Celes- 
 tine, entreating his assistance for the release of Richard : 
 " Me, miserable and unpitied as I am ! why have I, the queen 
 of two kingdoms, survived to endure calamitous old age? 
 Two sons were left for my consolation, but now they only 
 survive to my sorrow. Richard, the king, is in chains, while 
 John wastes and devastates his captive brother's realm with 
 fire and sword. The Lord's hand is heavy on me; truly his 
 anger fights against me when my sons strive together, if that 
 may be called a strife where one languishes in prison, and his 
 opponent, oh ! grief of griefs ! lawlessly usurps the unfortu- 
 nate one's dominions !" 
 
72 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1195. 
 
 Having thus, by her own letter, settled this historical ques- 
 tion, Eleanora left Rouen, and soon curbed the insolence of 
 John in England, keeping Alice safely in Rouen, lest John 
 should marry so shamefully. 
 
 The Emperor Henry VI. held a diet at Worms, -whither he 
 summoned Richard on charge of high crimes against the em- 
 pire. Leopold of Austria received large sums from Henry 
 for permitting Richard to appear. Eleanora herself took 
 charge of the Cypriot princess, whom Queen Bereugaria gave 
 up to her. The capture and detention of this lady was the 
 principal charge brought against King Richard. Eleanora 
 brought her to the diet, and withal the first installment of the 
 enormous ransom demanded for her son's liberty. The Guelph- 
 ic princes pleaded Richard's cause with eloquent pathos, and 
 young William Guelph, born at Winchester, was left in 
 prison for his uncle until the rest of the ransom was paid. 
 Richard was then delivered to his loving mother. The story 
 of his having to fight a lion, and of his pulling out its heart, 
 is all a vulgar invention, built on nothing but a metaphor in a 
 sirvetite of his friend, the troubadour Peyrols, 
 
 Richard landed at Sandwich with his mother, in 1195, the 
 Sunday after St. George's Day. He had, soon after, a second 
 coronation, in which his queen did not share : she was at her 
 dower-palace at Poictiers, absorbed iia grief for her father, 
 Sancho the Wise, who died after a glorious reign in Navarre 
 of forty-four years. 
 
 Richard after his arrival in England accompanied his moth- 
 er on justiciary progress. Both were received with great 
 affection, for the wise and prompt performance of this duty 
 was greatly prized by the English. Richard treated his 
 mother with the utmost respect: she sat by his side on the 
 bench in all halls of justice. This progress extended to Nor- 
 mandy. Here the queen-mother, at the entreaty of John, 
 brought him into the chamber of his injured king, at whose 
 feet he knelt for pardon. Richard raised him saying, " I for- 
 give you, John, and I wish I could as quickly forget your ill 
 deeds as you will ray pardon of them." Richard finished his 
 progress by visiting his Angevin domains. Although near 
 Berengaria, he did not return to her society. The only reason 
 for this estrangement was that he had renewed his intercourse 
 with some profligate associates who had vitiated his private 
 life before his marriage. As there were no heirs to the 
 crown, excepting the Breton boy Arthur, and the mean and 
 cruel John, Richard's subjects, by whom Berengaria's charac- 
 ter was generally esteemed, saw with regret the separation 
 
1196.] BERENGARIA. 73 
 
 of tlie royal pair. A Norman hermit met Richard while 
 hunting, and preached him a suitable sermon on his neglect 
 of his virtuous queen, telling him his end and punishment 
 were near. The warlike king answered him slightingly and 
 went his way. Richard began the former Anglo-Norman 
 practices by invading the revenues of the Church. He de- 
 manded of St. Hugh the present of a fur mantle worth one 
 thousand crowns on his induction to the bishopric of Lincoln. 
 St. Hugh declared he could not buy such things, not know- 
 ing aught of their value, but if the king persisted in devour- 
 ing the sustenance of Church and poor, he must take the 
 money and buy it himself As soon as the cash was spent, 
 Richard demanded the fur mantle. As this passed even the 
 patience of a saint, the bishop went to Normandy to remon- 
 strate. Having succeeded in touching Richard's conscience, 
 he pursued his advantage by entreating him to reform his 
 evil life, and live as a Christian king ought, with his wife, 
 who had every quality to retain his love. King Richard be-- 
 came penitent and mended his manners, yet put off his re- 
 turn to his queen. Severe illness occurred to him in 1196; 
 his death was expected, and his conscience alarmed him. 
 He sent for all the monks within ten miles, and made public 
 confession of an astounding number of sins. The Christmas 
 of that year he came to Poictiers : it was in the midst of a 
 dreadful famine, and he found Berengaria in the act of dis- 
 tributing corn and nourishment to the starving poor, to ob- 
 tain which she had parted with every superfluous valuable she 
 possessed. Richard was greatly struck with the contrast 
 of their lives, and having obtained her pardon, he lived with 
 her happily ever after, though his hereafter in this Avorld was 
 very short. The queen determined to follow him in all his 
 battles and campaigns. Richard confirmed in 1196 her En- 
 glish dower of the royalties arising from the tin mines of 
 Cornwall, to the value of two thousand marks yearly. Her 
 dower in Aquitaine was the county of Bigorre and the city 
 of Mans. Richard spent the last three years of his life fight- 
 ing petty battles with France, in which he j^erformed prodi- 
 gies of personal valor; his queen always shared the dangers 
 of his campaigns. A dispute with one of his Aquitainenn 
 vassals occasioned his last. Vidomar, Lord of Chaluz, had 
 found a pot of Roman coins. King Richard had been inform- 
 ed that Vidomar had discovered a cave full of precious stones 
 and gold statues, and demanded his royalty of them. It was 
 in vain Vidomar offered him the coins he had really found. 
 Richard's expectations had been raised too high for acting 
 
 D 
 
74 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1199. 
 
 with common sense. He marched and besieged Chahiz, froni 
 the walls of which the Poictevin noble, Gordon, shot him in 
 the shoulder with the bolt of a cross-bow. The wound 
 would not have been fatal but for Richard's willfulness m 
 scorning all medical regimen. When dying, the castle was 
 taken. Richard demanded that Gordon, to whom he owed 
 Ins death, should be brought before him, and asked him why- 
 he aimed his bolts at him. "Because you caused the death 
 of my fatlier and my brother," replied the undaunted prison- 
 er. Richard, on the verge of the grave, acknowledged the 
 justice of the reply. With his usual magnanimity he order- 
 ed Gordon to be set free. It was not the king's fault that 
 after his death his detestable mercenary general put Gordon 
 to a cruel death. 
 
 Berengaria was with her husband in his camp and in attend- 
 ance on him at his death. He made a verbal will, attested 
 by witnesses of which she was one, leaving two-thirds of his 
 treasures to his brother John and one-third to herself. Rich- 
 ard, having no child, had sent for his nephew and legitimate 
 heii', Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, meaning to bring him up as 
 an accomplished prince, in learning and chivalry worthy to 
 succeed him ; but through the obstinacy of Arthur's mother, 
 Constance, the regnant Duchess of Bretagne, Arthur was 
 detained among his native subjects, then considered the most 
 uncivilized people in Christian Europe. This caused his 
 repudiation from his great inheritance, and the recognition of 
 his unworthy uncle, John. 
 
 Berengaria was overwhelmed with sorrow for the death of 
 her liusband. Her best beloved friend, Joanna, likewise died 
 at this time, Avhile hastening to seek the aid of her warlike 
 brother King Richard for help to her distressed land. Finding 
 him just dead occasioned her such grief that she died prema- 
 turely, and entreated Berengaria to bury her at the feet of her 
 best beloved brother Richard. This was done, and her tomb 
 is extant still at Fontevraud, in that position. Berengaria 
 within a few hours after had the additional grief of losing her 
 only sister, Blanche of Navarre, niece to Richard's friend and 
 nephew, the Count of Champagne. 
 
 Berengaria, thus suddenly bereft of all that made life dear 
 to her, retired to seclusion, and spent her life in the practice 
 of piety and charity. She did not take vows, but founded at 
 Mans the noble abbey of Espan. Once she met her brother- 
 in-law, King John, atChinon, her late husband's treasure-city. 
 She there compounded for her English dower with him. 
 More than once great preparation was made for her reception 
 
1216-1230.] 
 
 BERENGAUIA. 
 
 in Englniul, Avhitlier, however, slie never went. King John 
 constantly ran in arrears with her English dower, and it was 
 on account of her appeal to Pope Innocent that England was 
 placed nnder interdict. Berengaria long survived her fraudu- 
 lent brother-in-law, and became liable to the same troubles 
 during the mmority of his son, Henry III. At last her affairs 
 were placed in the hands of the Temi)lars as her receivers and 
 stewards, after which her piteous appeals for her payments 
 
 cease. 
 
 Portrait of Richard 11. From tlie tomb of Fontevraud. 
 
 Berengaria did not wholly give up her rank as sovereign 
 of Maine, for she presided as such at a trial by battle in 1216, 
 concerning a false accusation made by the brother of a dis- 
 tressed demoiselle, who wanted to deprive his sister of her 
 portion. The queen is supposed to have died in 1230, but 
 that was only the date of the completion of her abbey of 
 Espan. She lived long after, although she chiefly sojourned 
 there. Sometimes she kept state, in her dower-palace at Mans, 
 the people of which city still show in their High Street a 
 
76 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1230. 
 
 very ancient strncture which they call Queen Berengavia's 
 house. She died at a very advanced age some years after, 
 and was buried at Espan. Although her beautiful enameled 
 statue, colored like life, and rejDresenting her in her bridal 
 dress, was displaced at the destruction of the abbey, it is still, 
 with her tomb and inscription, nearly entire, carefully pre- 
 served. 
 
 From early youth to the grave Bcrengaria manifested de- 
 voted love for Richard ; uncomplaining when deserted by 
 him, forgiving when he returned, and faithful to his memory 
 unto death, the royal Berengaria, Queen of England, though 
 never in England, little deserves to be forgotten by any ad- 
 mirer of feminine or conjugal virtue. 
 
 " Queen Berengaria," says a contemporary chronicler, " was 
 a royal, virtuous, and beautious lady, who, for love of King 
 Richard, had ventiu-ed with him through the world." It is, 
 however, certain that she was the only one of our queens who 
 never reached England. 
 
ISABELLA OF ANGOULEME. 
 
 ■» 
 
 %\ 
 
 11 
 
 John. From tomb in Worcester Cathedral. 
 
 Isabella. From her tomb at Fontevraud. 
 
 ISABELLA OF ANGOULEME, 
 
 QUEEN CONSOET TO KING JOHN. 
 
 Isabella of Angouleme was sole heiress of one of the feud- 
 al sovereignties in the south of France which owed homage 
 to the dukedom of Aquitaine, When John took his brother's 
 dignities he went in progress through his mother's dominions, 
 receiving the homage of the feudatory nobility as her repre- 
 sentative ; among others, of the Count of Angouleme. It was 
 needful that the heiress should likewise acknowledge John as 
 her sovereign of Aquitaine, and for this purpose young Isabella 
 was sent for by her parents from Lusignan, the castle of her 
 espoused lord, Hugh le Brun, heir of the Count de Lusignan, 
 whither she was sent according to the custom of the times to 
 be educated to the taste of her husband. The young lady 
 Avas very handsome, scarcely fifteen, descended from Louis 
 VI., and the wealthy heiress of a fine province. King John 
 fell in love with her at the homage, and the next day carried 
 her ofli'when hunting — some say by connivance of her parents, 
 who wished to see her a queen. Nevertheless Isabella 
 screamed, and made piteous lamentation, as she preferred her 
 betrothed lord, Hugh de Lusignan. The gayeties of her ab- 
 ductor's capital city of Bordeaux, and her promised coronation 
 as Queen of England consoled her. She declared to the Arch- 
 bishop of Bordeanx that she had given no promise to Hugh 
 
78 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1201. 
 
 de Lusignan since her infancy, and now she preferred King- 
 John. He united her in marriage to tliat king, August 24th, 
 1200, declaring that no impediment to their Avedlock existed. 
 Yet King John was thirty-two, and his young queen not half 
 that age. 
 
 Count Hugh de Lusignan had been absent on business relat- 
 ing to the high office he held of the King of France, his sov- 
 ereign, for he was lord marcher of French Poitou, and it was 
 his charge to keep France from all incursions of the southern 
 powers. He had left Isabella in the charge of his uncle, the 
 Count d'Eu, and was in despair Avhen his relative brought him 
 news of the sudden change which had raised liis fiancee to 
 the rank of queen. Count Hugh challenged King John to 
 mortal combat, who excused himself under pretense of his high 
 rank, and offered one of his mercenary soldiers to meet him in 
 the lists, which the injured noble indignantly refused. Queen 
 Eleanora heard of lier son's marriage with dismay. She had 
 previously advised him to conciliate the powerful guardians of 
 the borders between her southern dominions and France ; and 
 here he had, with his usual perverse folly, made them and all 
 their allies mortal enemies for life. John and his queen sailed 
 for England, only intent on festivity. Isabella was crowned 
 with her royal consort at Westminster, October 8th, 1201. 
 They spent the Christmas at Guildford Castle, on which the 
 young queen was dowered ; then they proceeded to Rouen, 
 where John was crowned Duke of Normandy, and Isabella as 
 duchess, with circlets of golden roses. Both of them scandal- 
 ized the warlike nobles by their luxury and indolence, seldom 
 breakfasting until two o'clock in the afternoon, among a peo- 
 ])le who usually rose at peep of dawn and dined at noon. 
 From their dream of sloth they were awakened by the tem- 
 pest raised by Isabella's wronged spouse. Count Hugh. As lord 
 marcher, he had taken the first opportunity which John's in- 
 capacity gave him to raise the feudal French militia, and over- 
 run southern Poitou. 
 
 Young Arthur, as the son of John's elder brother, claimed 
 his rights, and many in Aquitaine joined his Breton army. 
 Count Hugh took his part. Queen Eleanor was defeated at 
 Mirabel, when her iindutiful grandson, having taken her city, 
 besiegecTher in the citadel, where, notAvithstanding her great 
 age, she defended herself valiantly. For once in his life John 
 behaved as if he belonged to the stem of great Plantagenet. 
 He with his Norman and English forces traversed the inter- 
 vening provinces so rapidly that he was not looked for, relieved 
 his mother's siege, and took prisoners youiig Arthur and liis 
 
1203 1207.] ISABELLA OF ANGOULliME. 79 
 
 sister Eleanora, and their ally Count Ilugli, with many barons 
 of Poitou. Queen Eleanora charged hiin not to hurt Artliur, 
 who was indeed the only male heir of his line. Her sands of 
 life had been rudely shaken, she retired into conventual seclu- 
 sion, and was never again seen among the aftairs of the world. 
 John treated his rival Count Hugh with great contumely, pa- 
 rading him in a cart fettered hajid and foot in slow progress 
 througli Normandy. While his mother retained her faculties 
 lie dared not harm the princely boy Arthur. Many of the 
 barons of southern Poitou lie had starved to death in his dun- 
 geons. Tiie power of Count Hugh saved his life, but John 
 threw him into hard durance in Bristol Castle. 
 
 The last regal act of Eleanora of Aquitaine was to give a 
 wise charter to her well-beloved subjects, the mariner men of 
 lier isle Oleron. After her retirement into Fontevraud John 
 murdered his nephew, whom ho had imprisoned in the fortress 
 of Falaise, where he stabbed him with his own hand — the boy 
 exclaiming, "Ah, my uncle! spare the son of thy brother Geof- 
 frey ! Spare thy race!" At that era, 1203, Queen Isabella had 
 not given John an heir. The assassin king rowed out at night, 
 and having attached weights to the corpse of Arthui', sunk it 
 in the mouth of the Seine, So say the oldest chroniclers, who 
 lived at tlie time when the murder was investigated before the 
 King of France and his twelve peers. John, as the guilty peer, 
 refused to attend, and was in 1203 bereft of the dukedom of 
 Normandy, as punishment for the death of Arthur. Eleanora 
 of Aquitaine was not so obtuse to public affairs as to be un- 
 conscious of this disgrace. She died soon after, early in 1204, 
 and was buried by Henry H., at Fontevraud. Her beautifully 
 enameled statue is still to be seen, in the colors and size of 
 life, although the abbey was ruined in the French Revolution. 
 
 With his mother King John lost all fear and shame ;Jiis con- 
 duct shows the traits of the depraved Proven9al, where luxury 
 and wealth had caused corruption, combined with the brutality 
 of the uncivilized English. But ignorance could not be plead- 
 ed as his excuse. Like all the sons of Eleanora of Aquitaine, 
 he was learned, and could read good books, of which he had 
 many. He read the Old Testament, the Epistles of St. Austin, 
 and Pliny. After the dower-lands of the Queens of England 
 had been left free by the death of his mother and his composi- 
 tion with Queen Berengaria (which he seldom paid), he dow- 
 ered Isabella very richly. She brought him an heir at Win- 
 chester, named Henry, in 1207, and the year following another 
 son, called Richard. But the marriage of John and Isabella 
 was not happy. He tormented her with jealousy, not only of 
 
80 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1214. 
 
 Count PIug'b,whotu lie set at liberty in consideration of a heavy 
 ransom, but bis suspicions being excited of some person whose 
 name has not transpired, he had him assassinated by his merce- 
 naries, and hung his body over his queen's bed, who, as one may 
 suppose, Avas nearly frightened to death. Although so murder- 
 ous on mere suspicion, for no guilt was ever proved against 
 his queen, John set her no good example, for his abduction of 
 Matilda the Fair, the daughter of Lord Fitzwalter, and his sub- 
 sequent murder of this unwilling captive, brought on hnn the 
 vengeance of his barons, whose wives and daughters were not 
 better treated. After the birth of two sons John broke every 
 law of the country. He demanded for hostages the heirs of 
 his barons and gentry as pledges of the obedience of their 
 parents. These children he sent to wait upon his queen. 
 Peter Mauluc, one of his worst agents, being dispatched to 
 the Lord de Braose, to demand the surrender of his children, 
 the mother, who knew Peter had aided the king in the murder 
 of Arthur, exclaimed that " She would not give up her little 
 ones to a man who had killed his own nephew." Peter repoi't- 
 ed this speech to his master, who had the lady, her husband, 
 and five children seized, and starved to death in the dungeons 
 of old Windsor Castle. 
 
 Whether for safety or punishment, Isabella passed most of 
 her time confined at Gloucester just before the birth of her 
 second daughter Eleanora. When she inherited the province 
 of Angoumois, at the death of her lather, in 1213, she was in 
 high favor with her evil lord, and accompanied him to Aqui- 
 taine. Plere they found that the whole dukedom was in the 
 greatest danger, owing to the enmity of Count Hugh, who 
 having inherited his father's power, had overrun southern Poi- 
 tou and Isabella's domains. There was no remedy excepting 
 propitiating him, by giving him for his future wife the prin- 
 cess royal, Joanna, eldest daughter ot King John and Queen 
 Isabella, a beautiful child of seven years old. She was surren- 
 dered to Hugh, and placed for education in the castle from 
 whence John had stolen the mother. Greatly elated with the 
 settlement of his continental affairs, John returned with his 
 queen to England. He was at that time under interdict from 
 the Pope on account of his non-payment of Queen Berengaria's 
 dower; but he expended the large sums his queen had inher- 
 ited in hiring the most atrocious mercenary soldiers he could 
 find on the continent. With these he made a terrible prog- 
 ress through England, October 2d, 1214, to overcome his 
 bai'ons, who were insurgent for the renewal of Magna Charta. 
 He was reported to take the greatest pleasure in firing the 
 
1215-1221.] ISABELLA OF ANGOULEME. 81 
 
 liouse in tbe morning that had sheltered him over night. 
 Nevertheless he lost power daily. At last he was forced to 
 grant the same charter his ancestor Henry I. and his father 
 Henry II. had agreed to, with many additions most unwel- 
 come to him. This was done at Runnymede, near Windsor, in . 
 the summer of 1215. Of course he broke his own laws direct- 
 ly he made them. On a report that the Pope meant to grant 
 his kingdom to France, he patched uj) a pacification with him, 
 surrendering his royal power into the Pope's hands, who 
 threw his influence into the scale against the barons, and for- 
 bade Louis, the heir of France, to accept the donation they 
 had made him of Jolni's dominions. England was in woful 
 straits, between the danger of subjugation to tlie crown of 
 France or to the Pope. John chose tlie mischief that was 
 the least tangible. Meantime Louis of France and his invad- 
 ing forces landed. All was surrendered by the barons to him 
 excepting tiie stronghold of Queen Isabella on the coast of 
 Norfolk. In the autumn of 1216, crossing the Wash between 
 Lincoln and Norfolk, John and his army were almost swept 
 away ; he lost his treasure, jewels, and his crown, and arrived 
 at the abbey of Swineshead both ill and ill-tempered. Report 
 says that he was poisoned by a monk there, to prevent him 
 from realizing his threat that he would cause the penny loaf 
 to cost a shilling before long. He was carried forward to 
 Newark-on-Trent, where he died, October 19th, 1216, prob- 
 ably of an autumn fever he had caught in the Lynn marshes. 
 He was buried at Worcester Cathedral, Avhere his portrait 
 statue gives all beholders a correct idea of his person to this day. 
 
 Queen Isabella and the Earl of Pembroke acted with prompti- 
 tude on this emergency. John's heir was instantly proclaim- 
 ed in the streets of Gloucester, and was crowned in nine days' 
 time in the cathedral, as Henry III., with a gold throat-collar 
 of his mother's, as all the regalia had been lost in Lincoln 
 Wash. Many persons who abhorred the father swore fealty 
 to the boy of eleven years of age, William Mareschal, Earl 
 of Pembroke, one of the greatest men of his time, was at the 
 liead of the young king's aftairs, and Hubert de Burgh, who 
 commanded John's southern fleet, gave Louis of France irre- 
 coverable defeat ofi" Dover. The valor and wisdom of these 
 two great men cleared England of the French invaders, and 
 all, in less than twelve months, submitted to the regent sway 
 of Pembroke as protector for young Henry III. 
 
 Queens had in several instances governed in England during 
 the absence of their husbands or sons. No power of the kind 
 was oflTered to Isabella of Anjrouleme, who hastened back to 
 
 D * 
 
82 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1220. 
 
 her native country as. soon as the seas were cleared of invad- 
 ers. She settled in her native city of Angoulenie, July, 1217. 
 Three years afterward her former lover Count Hugh returned 
 from a crusade which he had undertaken to drown the mem- 
 ory of the love he still bore her, and finding her as beautiful as 
 ever, he forsook her little daughter Joanna, and offered to her 
 liis rejected hand, and was accepted, with the assurance that 
 she had loved no one but him. They were married on 
 May 22d, 1220. Then ensued a time of grave troubles, 
 as the council of the young king refused to pay the dow- 
 er of Isabella, under pretense that he had not given her 
 permission to marry a second time ; as he was only four- 
 teen, it is not likely she asked it. At last all disputes were 
 settled by the arbitration of the Pope, and by her sending home 
 her daughter Joanna, who had been intended for Count Hugh. 
 Isabella enjoyed more happiness during the ensuing years as 
 the wife of her first lord than in her wretched queenship. 
 She had several children, and might have finished her life se- 
 renely but for her foolish pride. Misei'able as she had been as 
 Queen of England, she was much elated by the title, and at 
 last declared she could not bear that the man she owned as 
 her husband should kneel in homage to the King of France. 
 Louis VIII., who had contested the crown of England Avith 
 King John, was dead, and his s#n Louis IX., known as Saint 
 Louis, on the throne of France. He was worthy of his sur- 
 name, from his many virtues ; but Isabella, the countess-queen, 
 fancying his goodness was weakness, never let her husband 
 Iiave any peace until she had stirred up a foolish war and 
 caused him to revolt to her son. When St. Louis, who was a 
 skillful general, beat them both into better behavior by his 
 victory at Taillebourg, and both renewed homage for their 
 French provinces, Isabella hired an assassin to stab the King 
 of France. As soon as discovery impended, she fled to Fon- 
 tevraud, where the nuns hid her in the " secret chamber" of 
 the convent. King Louis forgave all offenses, but the pride 
 of Isabella was so much hurt that she died at her retreat of 
 Fontevraud a few weeks after, acknowledging her many 
 sins, and requesting, out of penitence, tobe humbly interred 
 in the church- yard, 1246. When her son Henry III. was 
 shown her lowly tomb some years afterward, among those 
 of common folk, he had her body removed into the stately 
 church, laid by Henry II. and Eleanora of Aquitaine, and 
 raised a tomb with the fine portrait statue, still in high jores- 
 ervation, showing her great beauty of featui'es and form. 
 Her husband, the Count de la Marchc, survived her many 
 
124G.] 
 
 ISABELLA OF ANGOULEME. 
 
 83 
 
 years, :uk1 took the cross in the last crusade under St. Louis, 
 under whom he died, vahanlly. Isabella's numerous family 
 were sent to England, and provided for by her eldest son, 
 Henry III. They were all very unpopular, haughty, and trou- 
 blesome. 
 
 Tomb of King John, at Worcester, 
 
84 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Henry III. From his tomb in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 ELBANOE OF PKOYENCE, 
 
 SURNAMED LA BELLE, 
 
 QUEEN OF HENRY III. 
 
 Raymond Berengee was the last and most illustrious of 
 the royal Proveii9al counts ; even had he not been the sover- 
 eign of the land of song, his own verses Avould have entitled 
 him to a distinguished rank among troubadour poets. His 
 consort Beatrice, daughter of Thomas, Count of Savoy, was cel- 
 ebrated for her literary powers. From her accomplished par- 
 ents tlie youthful Eleanor inherited both natural taste and 
 practical talent for poetry. The composition of a poem was 
 the primary cause to which the infanta Eleanor of Provence 
 owed her elevation to the cro\vn-matrimouial of England. Her 
 tutor and her father's major-domo, Romeo, were the persons to 
 whose able management Count Berenger was indebted for his 
 success in matching his five portionless daughters with the 
 principal potentates of Europe. Eleanor, prompted by this 
 sagacious counselor, sent to Richard, Earl of Cornwall, Henry 
 III.'s brother, her Proven9al poem on the adventures of Blan- 
 din of Cornwall and Guillaume of Miremas, his companion, 
 who undertook great perils for the love of the Princess Briende 
 and her sister Irlonde (probably Britain and Ireland), dames 
 of incomparable beauty. Richard of Cornwall was then at 
 
1230.] ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 85 
 
 Poitou, preparing for a crusade. He was highly flattered by 
 the attention of the young princess, called Eleanor la Belle : 
 but it was out of his power to ofter his hand and heart to the 
 Proven9al beauty, as he was already the husband of one good 
 lady : he therefore recommended her to his brother Henry HI. 
 for a queen. That monarch, whose learning far exceeded his 
 wit and judgment, had been disappointed in no less than five 
 attempts to enter the holy pale of matrimony, with as many 
 different princesses. The agreeable impression he received 
 from his brother, Richard Earl of Cornwall, of the beauty and 
 brilliant genius of his fair correspondent, Eleanor of Provence, 
 made him resolve to make a sixth attempt, and his nobles 
 were so obliging as to recommend him to marry the very lady 
 on whom he had secretly fixed his mind. Though Henry's 
 age more than doubled that of the fair maid of Provence, and 
 he was aware that the poverty of the generous count her fo- 
 ther was almost proverbial, yet he demanded 20,000 marks as 
 her portion, but finally took her portionless. 
 
 Eleanor was dowered in the reversion of the queen-mother 
 Isabella of Angouleme's dower. The bride, having been 
 delivered to King Henry's ambassadors, commenced her 
 journey to England. She was attended on her progress by 
 all the chivalry and beauty of the south of France, a stately 
 train of nobles, ladies, and minstrels. She was met on the 
 French frontier and welcomed by her eldest sister, the consort 
 of St. Louis. She embarked for England, landed at Dover, 
 and on the 4th of January, 1236, was married to King Henry 
 III. at Canterbury, by the archbishop. 
 
 Eleanor was just at the happy age for enjoying the spectacle 
 of all the gay succession of shows and devices — streets hung 
 with difterent-colored silks, gaylands, and banners, also with 
 lamps, cressets, and other lights at night. The most sumptu- 
 ous and splendid garments ever seen in England were worn 
 at the coronation of the young queen of Henry HI. The 
 peaceful and vigorous administration of Pembroke and Hubert 
 de Burgh had filled England with wealth and luxury, drawn 
 from their commerce with the south of France. The elegant 
 fashion of chaplets of gold and jewels, worn over the hair, 
 was adopted by this queen, whose jewelry was of a mag- 
 nificent order, and is supposed to have cost her doting husband 
 nearly 30,000/. — an enormous sum, if reckoned according to 
 the value of our money. For state occasions she had a great 
 crown, most glorious with gems, worth 1500/. at that era; 
 her girdles were worth 5000 marks, and the coronation present 
 given by her sister. Queen Marguerite of France, was a large 
 
86 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1239-1245. 
 
 silver peacock, wliose train was set with sapphii'es and pearls, 
 and other precious stones wrought with silver. This elegant 
 piece of jewelry was used as a reservoir for sweet waters, 
 which were forced out of its beak into a basin of chased 
 silver. 
 
 Great offense was taken by the nation at the number of 
 foreigners, especially Italians, who accompanied, or followed, 
 Queen Eleanor to England. Among these was her uncle, 
 Peter of Savoy. King Henry created him Earl of Richmond, 
 and, at the suit of the queen, bestowed upon him that palace 
 in the Strand, which was called from him the Savoy. In the 
 fourth year of her marriage Eleanor brought an heir to 
 England. The young prince was born on the IGth of June, 
 ]2.'^9, at Westmmster, and received the popular name of 
 Edward, in honor of Edward the Confessor, for whose memory 
 Henry III. cherished the deepest veneration. The celebrated 
 Earl of Leicester was one of the godfathers of Prince Edward, 
 and held him at the baptismal font: he was then in the height 
 of favor, both with Eleanor and the king. 
 
 The poet-queen's court affords the first example of a poet- 
 laureate, in the person of one master Henry, whom the king 
 mentions by the appellation of "our beloved versifieator." 
 
 Queen Eleanor presented her husband with a daughter in 
 the 3'ear 1241, who was named Margaret. The following year 
 she accompanied Prince Henry on his ill-advised expedition 
 against the King of France, into which he had been drawn by 
 liis mother, Isabella of Angouleme. Eleanor gave birth to 
 another daughter at Bordeaux, named Beatrice. In consequence 
 of the close connection between their queens, Louis IX. was 
 induced to gr.ant a truce of five years to his vanquished foe. 
 Henry and Eleanor then resolved to spend a merry winter 
 at Bordeaux, where they amused themselves with as much 
 feasting and pageantry as if Henry had obtained the most 
 splendid victories. During the residence of the royal family 
 on the continent. Queen Eleanor brought about a union 
 between her youngest sister, Sanchn, and the king's brother, 
 Richard Earl of Cornwall, who had recently become a wid- 
 ower. 
 
 In 1245 the queen bore a second son. Prince Edmund, and 
 the king levied a fine of fifteen hundred marks on the city of 
 London. A fire broke out in the Pope's palace, and destroyed 
 the chamber in which the principal deed of Magna Charta 
 was kept, which made the queen fancy it was rendered null 
 and void. England was at this period in such a state of 
 misrule, that in Hampshire no jury dared to find a bill against 
 
1252.] ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 87 
 
 any plunderer, nor was pillage confined to the undefended ; for 
 King Henry complained that when he was traveling with the 
 queen through that country, their luggage was robbed, their 
 wine drunk, and themselves insulted by the lawless rabble. 
 The queen's unpopularity in London originated from all ves- 
 sels freighted with corn or wool being compelled to unlade 
 their cargoes at her quay, called Queenhithe ; because the 
 dues formed a part of the revenues of the Queens of England, 
 and the tolls were paid according to the value of the lading. 
 The cry of the land in this reign was against foreign influence 
 and foreign oppression, and it was a proverb, that no one but 
 a Proven9al or a Poictevin had any hopes of advancement, 
 either -in the state or Church ; so which were held in the 
 greatest abhorrence, the half-brothers of the king or the 
 uncles of the queen, it was difficult to say. 
 
 The espousals of the Princess Margaret, the eldest daughter 
 of Henry and Eleanor, then in her tenth year, to the young 
 King of Scotland, Alexander HI., who was about twelve, 
 took place at the close of 1251, at York, where the royal 
 families of England and Scotland kept their Christmas to- 
 gether. The youthful bridegroom Avas knighted by King- 
 Henry in York Cathedral, on Christmas Day. The next morn- 
 ing the marriage was solemnized. Plenry endeavored to 
 persuade the young Alexander to pay him homage for Scot- 
 land ; but the royal boy answered, that "he came to York to 
 be married, not to act without consulting the states of his 
 kingdom." 
 
 Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, who had passed six 
 years as Governor of Gascoiiy, now returned, to the sorrow of 
 the English court, for his tyranny had caused revolt in Gui- 
 enne, which King Henry hastened to quell. Queen Eleanor be- 
 ing near her confinement, did not accompany him, but was sol- 
 emnly invested with the regency of the kingdom, jointly with 
 his brother, Richard, Earl of Cornwall. The queen gave birth 
 to a daughter November 25th, who was christened with great 
 pomp by the Archbishop of Canterbury, the queen's uncle, by 
 the name of Katherine. She died very young, and was buried 
 i:i Westminster Abbey. 
 
 When Henry IH. appointed Eleanor regent of England, he 
 left the great seal in her custody, enclosed in its casket, only 
 to be used in emergency. Pleas were holden before her in the 
 Court of Exchequer during Henry's absence in Gascony, when 
 she sat on the king's bench. No sooner had Queen Eleanor 
 thus got the reins of empire in her own hands, than she pro- 
 ceeded to play the sovereign in a despotic manner. Remem- 
 
88 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1254. 
 
 beriiig her former disputes with the city of Loudon, she de- 
 manded a large sura, which she insisted was owed her for 
 queen-gold. For non-payment of this claim Eleanor committed 
 the sheriffs of London to theMarshalsea prison, 1254, and soon 
 sent the lord-mayor to keep them company. Her arbitrary 
 proceedings as queen-regent were regarded with indignation 
 in the city. 
 
 Early in the year Henry directed his brother to extort from 
 the luckless Jews the sum required for the nuptial festivities 
 of his heir, and sent for Eleanor to assist him in squandering 
 away the supply in the vain expenses in Avhich they mutually 
 delighted, likewise to grace with her presence the bridal. 
 Eleanor, who loved power well, but pleasure better,ion this 
 welcome summons resigned the government to the Earl of 
 Cornwall; and with her sister, the Countess of Cornwall, her 
 second son, Prince Edmund, and a courtly retinue, sailed from 
 Portsmouth on the 15th of May, and at Bordeaux was joyfully 
 welcomed by her husband and their heir, Prince Edward. She 
 crossed the Pyrenees wath her son, and having assisted at his 
 nuptials with the infanta Eleanora of Castile, returned with 
 the royal bride and bridegroom to King Henry at Bordeaux. 
 The queen prevailed on him to accept an invitation of King 
 Louis, her brother-in-law. 
 
 After the royal family of England had received, during a 
 sojourn of eight days in Paris, all the honor which the power 
 of the king and the wealth of the fair realm of France could 
 bestow, they took their leave of these pleasant scenes. Elea- 
 nor, ambitious of being the mother of as many crowned heads 
 as those by whom she had seen the Countess of Provence 
 proudly surrounded at the Feast of Kings, was much elated at 
 the Pope sending her second son. Prince Edmund, then about 
 ten years old, a ring, whereby he professed to invest him with 
 the kingdom of Sicily. Henry was only deterred from rushing 
 into a war, for the purpose of establishing the claims of his 
 boy to this dignity, by the necessity of rendering his paternal 
 succor to the King and Queen of Scots. Eleanor, having heard 
 distressing rumors, had privately dispatched her physician into 
 Scotland, to learn the real situation of her daughtei", and ascer- 
 tained that the King and Queen of Scots were both imprisoned 
 in the castle of Edinburgh, but in separate apartments. Elea- 
 iu)r's trouble of mind brought on a violent ihness, and she was 
 confined to her bed at Wark Castle, with small hopes of her 
 life. At last tidings came that Gloucester and Mansel, the 
 English ambassadors, had gained admittance into the castle of 
 Edinburgh by assuming the dress of tenants of Baliol the 
 
12G2.J ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. gg 
 
 governor, and thus were enabled to give secret access to their 
 followers, by Avhoni the garrison was surprised, and the 'i-es- 
 cued king and queen restored to each other. On Eleanor's 
 convalescence, the King and Queen of Scotland accompanied 
 her and King Henry to Woodstock, where she kept her court 
 with more than ordinary splendor, to celebrate their deliver- 
 ance from their late adversity. Tliere were then three kings 
 and three queens at Woodstock, with their retinues. Richard, 
 Earl of Cornwall, having obtained his election as successor to 
 the Emperor of Germany, had assumed the title of King of the 
 Romans, while his consort, Queen Eleanor's sister, took also 
 royal state and title. 
 
 All tliis pomp and festivity Avas succeeded by a season of 
 gloom and care. The departure of the King and Queen of 
 Scotland was followed by that of the new King and Queen of 
 the Romans, who went to be crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle, 
 carrying with them 700,000/. A dreadful famine added to 
 the public embarrassment occasioned by the drain on the spe- 
 cie. It was at this season of public misery that Eleanor, 
 blinded by the selfish spirit of covetousness to the impolicy of 
 her conduct, chose to renew her demands of queen-gold on the 
 city of London. These the king enfoi'ced by writs of Ex- 
 chequer, himself sitting there in person and compelling the re- 
 luctant sheriffs to distrain the citizens for the same. 
 
 Afterward Henry took up his residence in the Tower of 
 London, while Eleanor with a strong garrison kept Windsor. 
 She had pawned her jewels to the Templars. On the return 
 of Prince Edward from a victorious campaign in Wales, find- 
 ing himself without the means of disbursing the arrears of 
 pay which he owed the troops, and unwilling to disband men 
 whom he foresaw his father's cause would require, he marched 
 straightway to the Temple, and told the master that it Avas 
 his pleasure to see the jewels of the queen his mother. On 
 this excuse he entered the treasury, broke open the coffers of 
 many persons who had lodged their money in the hands of 
 the Templars, and seized ten thousand pounds sterling, princi- 
 pally belonging to the citizens of London, wbich, together 
 with the queen's jewels, he carried off to the royal fortress of 
 Windsor. A few months afterward the queen pawned these 
 jewels a second time to her sister's husband, the King of 
 France. 
 
 The barons' war was pi-eceded by a dreadful attack on the 
 Jews, the work of plunder commencing with such outrageous 
 yells, that the queen, who was then at the Tower, seized with 
 mortal terror, got into her barge with many of her great ladies, 
 
90 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. l\2C,i. 
 
 intending to escape by water to Windsor Castle. But the 
 raging populace, to whom she had rendered herself most ob- 
 noxious, seeing the royal barge on the river, made a general 
 rush to the bridge, crying, "Drown the witch! drown the 
 witch !" at the same time pelting the queen with mud, and 
 endeavoring to sink the vessel by hurling down blocks of wood 
 and stone which they tore from the unfinished buildings of 
 the bridge. The poor ladies were pelted with rotten ec^g^^, 
 sheep's bones, and every thing vile. The queen with difficulty 
 escaped tlie fury of the assailants by returning to the Tower, 
 whence she was privately removed to Windsor Castle, where 
 Prince Edward kept garrison with his troops. This high-spir- 
 ited prince never forgave the Londoners for the insult they 
 had thus offered to his mother. Though Eleanor had been a 
 most unprincipled plunderer of the Jews, she was accused of 
 patronizing them, because great numbers of them had flocked 
 into England at the time of her marriage with King Henry, 
 the Provengal princes having always granted toleration to 
 them. 
 
 The barons having agreed to refer their grievances to tlie 
 arbitration of King Louis, King Henry took Eleanor with 
 liim to France, and left her there in October, 1264, with her 
 children, at the court of her sister Marguerite. The decision 
 of St. Louis did not satisfy the barons, and England was forth- 
 with involved in the flames of civil war. After Henry had 
 thus placed his adored queen in security, and taken a tender 
 leave of her and her young children, he returned to England 
 to encounter the storm. On Passion Sunday, Henry gained 
 a great victory at Northampton over the barons, and took his 
 rebellious nephew, the Earl of Leicester's eldest son, prisoner, 
 together with fourteen of the leading barons. 
 
 So well had the royal cause prospered in the commencement 
 of the struggle, that when the rival armies were encamped 
 within six miles of each other, near Lewes, the barons sent 
 word to the king that they would give him thirty thousand 
 marks if he would consent to a pacification. Prince Edward, 
 who was buriiing to avenge the insults which had been ofl^er- 
 ed to the queen his mother, dissuaded Henry from accepting 
 these terms, and the battle of Lewes followed. It was lost 
 through the reckless fury with which the fiery heir of England 
 pursued the flying Londoners, in order to avenge their inciv- 
 ility in pelting his mother at their bridge. He follov/ed them 
 with his cavalry, shouting the name of Queen Eleanor, as far 
 as Croydon, where he made a merciless slaughter of the hap- 
 less citizens. On his return to the field of battle with his 
 
li'G5.J ELEANOR OF PROVENCE. 91 
 
 jaded cavalry, he found his father had been captured, with his 
 uncle the King of the Romans; and Edward liad no other re- 
 source than surrendering himself also to Leicester, who con- 
 veyed him, with his other royal prisoners, to the Castle of 
 Wallingford. Tiie remnant of the royal army retreated to 
 Bristol Castle, under the command of seven knights, who 
 reared seven banners on the walls. The queen Avas said by 
 some to be safe in France, but really privately in the land, 
 for the purpose of liberating her brave son. 
 
 Simon de Montfort ti'ansferred all his royal prisoners, for 
 safer keeping, to Kenilworth Castle, where Edwai'd's aunt, his 
 countess, was abiding. Lord Roger Mortimer had, much 
 against the wishes of his lady, given liis powerful aid to Leices- 
 ter ; but having received some affront since the victory of Lewes, 
 he now turned a complacent ear to the loyal pleadings of Lady 
 Maud in behalf of the queen and her son. Lady Maud Morti- 
 mer having sent her instructions to Prince Edward, he made 
 his escape by riding races with his attendants till he had tired 
 tlieir horses, when he rode up to a thicket, where dame Maud 
 had ambushed a swift steed. Mounting his gallant courser, 
 Edward turned to his guard, and bade them " commend him 
 to his sire the king, and tell him he would soon be at liberty," 
 and then galloped off; while an armed party appeared on the 
 opposite hill a mile distant, and displayed tlie banner of Mor- 
 timer. Eleanor had borrowed all the money she could raise 
 on her jewels. When she heard of her son's escape, she pro- 
 ceeded to muster forces and equip a fleet. While she remain- 
 ed wind-bound on the coast of Fi-ance, the battle of Evesham 
 was fought and won by her son. Prince Edward. Leicester 
 mistook Prince Edward's army for that of his own son, Simon 
 de Montfort, which the prince had intercepted and dispersed. 
 When Leicester discovered his error, he was struck with con- 
 sternation, and exclaimed, "• May the Lord have mercy on our 
 souls ! for our bodies are the prince's." Leicester exposed his 
 former benefactor, King Henry, to the shafts of his own friends, 
 by placing him in the front of the battle, where he was Avonnd- 
 ed with a javelin in the shoulder, and was in innninent danger 
 of being slain by a royalist soldier. "Slay me not; I am Hen- 
 ry of Winchester, your king," exclaimed the royal prisoner. 
 An officer, hearing this, ran to his assistance, rescued him 
 from his perilous situation, and brought him to Prince Edward, 
 who, greeting him with the tenderest affection, knelt and im- 
 plored his blessing ; and then, leaving n strong guard for his 
 protection, pursued his victorious career, gaining the battle, 
 August 4th, 1265. Tiiere was not a single drop of blood shed 
 
92 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1272-1280. 
 
 on the scaffold. Henry, with all his faults and follies, was ten- 
 der of human life ; neither is it recorded of Queen Eleanor that 
 she ever caused a sanguinary vengeance to be inflicted on any 
 of her foes. King Henry, however, made the Londoners pay 
 pretty dearly for the pelting they had bestowed on the high 
 and mighty lady, his companion. Thus did Eleanor see the 
 happy termination of the barons' wars, and was once more 
 settled with lier royal partner on the throne of England. The 
 evening of their days passed peacefully. At the death of 
 Henry IH. both his warlike sons, Edward and Edmund, 
 were absent on a crusade, so gently did the tumults of the 
 barons' wars subside, as soon as the king had properly recog- 
 nized the regular functions of the English parliaments. 
 
 King Henry IH. died on the 16th of November, 1272, aged 
 sixty-six, having reigned fifty-six years and twenty days. 
 Queen Eleanor having been appointed Regent of England, she 
 caused the council to assemble at the new Temple on the 20th 
 of November, where, by her consent and appointment, her eld- 
 est son, Prince Edward, was prochximed King of England, by 
 the style and title of Edward I. The remains of King Henry, 
 royally robed and crowned, were, according to his own desire, 
 ]>laced in the old cofiin in which the body of Edward the 
 Confessor had originally been interred, and buried near the 
 shrine of that monarch in Westminster Abbey. His recum- 
 bent, statue is in fine preservation — a noble work of art. 
 Scarcely had the tomb closed over the moi'tal remains of her 
 royal lord, ere Eleanor had to mourn the death of her eldest 
 daughter, Margaret, Queen of Scotland. This lady having 
 paid her mother a dutiful visit of condolence on the death of 
 tlie king her fiatlier, died in England in the thirty-third year 
 of her age, and the twenty-second of her marriage, leaving 
 only one daughter, who was married to Eric, King of Nor- 
 way. The death of the Queen of Scotland was followed by 
 that of her sister, the Duchess of Bretagne, who came, Avith 
 her lord, to witness the coronation of her royal brother 
 Edward, and died very unexpectedly a few days afterward, in 
 the thirtieth year of her age. Thus Eleanor was bereaved of 
 her husband and both her daughters within one short year. 
 It has been generally asserted that she took religious vows 
 soon after the coronation of Edward I., but she only retired 
 to Ambresbury as a residence in 1280, delaying her profession 
 till she could obtain leave from the Pope to retain her rich 
 dower. • 
 
 Queen Eleanor constantly received the tenderest attention 
 from her son King Edward. Once, when he was going to 
 
1284.] 
 
 ELEANOR OF PROVENCE, 
 
 93 
 
 France, to meet the king his cousin on a matter of the great- 
 est importance, and had advanced as far as Canterbury, re- 
 ceiving intelligence of the alarming illness of his mother, he 
 instantly gave up his French voyage and hastened to lier. 
 The profession of the royal widow took place in the year 
 1284, when she obtained leave of the Pope to keep possession 
 of her dower. Two fair princesses in the early flower oi' 
 their days, Mary, fifth daughter of Edward I., and Eleanor, 
 daughter of the deceased Duchess of Bretagne, approached 
 the altar with their world-weary grandame Queen Eleanor ; 
 they were veiled at the same time and place with her. 
 
 Henry III. From his tomb in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 The charities of Eleanor were exemplary ; every Friday 
 .she distributed from her convent 5l in silver among the poor. 
 It ought to be remembered, for the better appreciation of 
 this conduct, that the destitute in those days had no support 
 
94 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1291. 
 
 but conventual alms. She survived the king her husband 
 nineteen years, and died at the nunnery of Ambresbury, June 
 24th, 1291, during the absence of her son in Scotland. On 
 his return, he summoned all his clergy and barons to Am- 
 bresbury, where he solemnly completed the entombing of his 
 mother, on the day of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, in 
 her conventual church, where her obsequies were reverently 
 celebrated. 
 
ELEANOKA OF CASTILE. 
 
 95 
 
 i^°^% 
 
 Quesn Eleunora. From her tomb in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 ELEANORA OF CASTILE, 
 
 FIRST QUEEN CONSORT OF EDWARD I. 
 
 The marriage of the infanta donna, Eleanora of Castile, with 
 Prince Edward, heir of England, happily terminated a war 
 which her brother, King Alphonso, surnamed the Astronomer, 
 was Avaging with Henry III. regarding an obsolete claim he 
 made to one of the provinces of Guienne. Henry HI., contrary 
 to his usual luck, gave the invaders a sound castigation, and 
 the learned Alphonso was glad to sue for peace, offering the 
 hand of his beautiful half-sister Eleanora, with a dower of the 
 disputed provinces. Moreover, her mother, the widow-queen 
 of Castile, liad inherited Ponthieu from the notorious Princess 
 
96 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1254-1266. 
 
 Alice, her motlier. Prince Edward, accompanied by his queen- 
 mothei*, crossed tlie Pyrenees to espouse the young princess. 
 The bridegroom was fifteen, the bride not ten years of age. 
 August 5th, 1254, the princely couple were wedded iu Burgos, 
 where young Edward received knighthood from the sword of 
 tlue royal astronomer, who, when he could detach his thoughts 
 from the stars, was renowned on earth as a true Castilian 
 chevalier, heroic in his own person but not fortunate as a gen- 
 eral. Prince Edward and his bride returned to Guienne, where 
 Henry III. received them most lovingly, but so far gave way 
 to his usual extravagance, that he spent 300,000 marks on their 
 nuptial feast and on another at Paris, where so many monarchs 
 of western Europe, relatives to the royal family of England, 
 assembled, that it was called the Feast of Kings. When one 
 of them questioned the prudence of the outlay, Henry HI. re- 
 plied, " Say no more, lest men should stand an)azed at the 
 hearing thereof!" The caution Avas more needed, for when 
 the young bride (after several months of festivities) landed at 
 Dover, October, 1255, she was remarked for her vast retinue 
 and very scanty wardrobe, Eleanora was not accompanied 
 by the prince. She was too young for an establishment, and 
 he was finishing his knightly devoir by practice at all remark- 
 able tournaments, and she at her tender age had her education 
 to complete. Henry III. gave her one hundred marks to buy 
 a new wardrobe. He had dowered her very splendidly in 
 England, where Guildford Castle was her favorite residence, 
 and has always been connected with her name. She had been 
 preceded in England by her brother Don Sancho, who pro- 
 vided tapestry to hang the stone walls of her palaces, which 
 the difference of the climate rendered needful to the Spanish- 
 born princess. She Avas the first to introduce its domestic use 
 in England, where it had only been seen as a pictorial orna- 
 ment at festivals and chapels. Therefore appropriating it as 
 furniture displeased the ])eople, who Avere insurgent, and ready 
 to take every offense. The barons' Avars soon drove her, Avith 
 the other ladies of the royal family, to the continent. 
 
 Prince EdAvard conducted his young Avife to Bordeaux in 
 1256, Avhere she remained in safety until her mother-in-law, 
 Queen Eleanora, brought her to Canterbury, October 29th, 
 1265. 
 
 The eldest son of Eleanora of Castile was born at Windsor, 
 1266 ; he Avas named John. Eleanora and Henry Avere also 
 born at Windsor, and Avhen the succession Avas thus secured. 
 Prince Edward announced his intention of joining the crusade 
 promoted by St. Louis, King of France, his aunt's husband. 
 
1271-1272.] ELEANORA OF CASTILE. 97 
 
 The faithful Eleanora resolved to share the perils of the expe- 
 dition with him. She preceded him in her departure for 
 Aquitaine, Having bidden farewell to her three lovely infants 
 at Windsor, she met her lord at Bordeaux. From thence he 
 sailed to Ptolomais, and the same campaign won a great battle 
 and stormed Nazareth. He embarked at Cyprus, winning an- 
 other victory at Cahow, June, 1271. Greater alarm took pos- 
 session of the Saracens than when lion-hearted Richard waged 
 war on them, and assassination was undertaken against Ed- 
 ward by the prince of the assassins, called the Old Man of the 
 Mountains. A fanatic was obtained, who, under pretense of 
 conversion to Christianity, was familiarly admitted to Edward, 
 and aiming a dagger at his side, planted it in his arm. Wound- 
 ed as he was, Edward overcame and killed the villain befoi'e 
 his attendants appeared on the scene. Then the horrid idea 
 occurred that the weapon had been poisoned, for the wound 
 turned black, and a council of friends and surgeons was held 
 in his sick-chamber. Eleanora, who had attended her lord 
 with the most sedulous care, was present, but if she had suck- 
 ed the poison from the wound, as it is fabulously asserted, 
 Edward's intimate friends, who were there as well (among 
 others, the historian Hemmingford), would have testified to 
 that fixct. When the master of the Temple and the doctors 
 recommended incision, the princess, agonized at what her lord 
 had to suffer, cried and lamented, until his brother Edmund 
 said, " My sister, it is better you should cry than all England 
 weep." Edward, holding out his arm, bade his surgeons "cut 
 away and spare not, he would bear it ;" and told his favorite 
 knight, John de Vesci, " to carry the princess away from a 
 sight not fit for her to witness." Sir John carried her away 
 to her ladies, she shrieking and struggling all the time. The 
 surgical operation was effectual, and owing to Edwai'd's virtue 
 of temperance, and Eleanora's tender care of him, he was con- 
 valescent in fifteen days. Edward finding his forces decreased 
 with sickness and want, prepared to leave the Holy Land, 
 where Eleanora had recently given birth to a daughter, cele- 
 brated under the name of Joanna of Acre. On their arrival 
 in Sicily heavy tidings awaited them. A messenger brought 
 news that their heir. Prince John, had died suddenly ; the next, 
 that his brother Henry had expired ; and the third day, that 
 Edward's royal sire was dead, and that he was now King of 
 England, as Edward I. 
 
 Edward had borne the loss of his infants with firmness, but 
 the last intelligence threw him into agonies of sorrow. His 
 uncle by marriage, Charles, King of Sicily, expressed his sur- 
 
 E 
 
^ QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1273-1282. 
 
 prise that the acquisition of a crown and the death of an old 
 father should afflict him more than the loss of his promising 
 boys. " Eleanora," replied the prince, " may bring me more 
 sons, but the loss of a father can never be replaced." 
 
 So well was the representative government working in 
 England, that the young king and queen took a twelvemonth 
 to visit Rome and Paris, and settle for some months at Aqui- 
 taine, where Eleanora supplied the loss of her sons by giving 
 birth to one more beautiful than either. She named him Al- 
 phonso, after her astronomer brother. A narrow escape from 
 great danger marked this visit to Bordeaux. While sitting 
 on a couch with the king, a flash of liglitning killed two at- 
 tendants close to them, but hurt not the royal pair. 
 
 Tlie coronation, for which Eleanora and Edward returned to 
 England, August 2, 1273, was the most splendid ever perform- 
 ed in Westminster Abbey. The King of Scotland, Edward's 
 brother-in-law, came thither to do homage for his earldoms of 
 Cumberland and Huntingdon. He brought two hundred 
 horses as a present to the people, and celebrated the coronation 
 by having them let loose. Any person who could catch one 
 might have it. Llewellyn, Prince of Wales, long an ally of 
 the insurgent barons, absented himself, though summoned ; 
 but the Duke of Bretagne gladly did homage for his earldom 
 and castle of Richmond in Yorkshire. Great cooking sheds, 
 where all the populace were fed that chose, had been erected, 
 and smoked and steamed in Palace Yard ; many fountains and 
 conduits ran with Gascon wine instead of water, and the rich 
 merchants of Cheapside showered gold and silver out of the 
 •windows. 
 
 War broke out with Wales instantly the homage was re- 
 fused. A Bristol merchant-ship captured the bride of Llewel- 
 lyn, Eleanor, daughter to the king's aunt and his great 
 enemy, Simon de Montfort. She was consigned to the care 
 of the queen, who treated her with great friendship for some 
 years. Llewellyn was obliged to make peace in 1278, or lose 
 his betrothed princess. The queen brought the bride to 
 Worcester, and was present at lier marriage with the Welsh 
 prince. Edward, who came to England with the intention of 
 making all its vassal princes submit to his power as Bret- 
 walda or lord paramount of Britain, was soon at war with 
 Wales again. The young Princess of Wales died in the 
 course of a year, and Llewellyn broke the peace by invading 
 the border. He was driven back and slain at the fatal battle 
 of Builth, by Mortimer, chief of the marcher lords in Wales, 
 December 11, 1282. The heads of Llewellyn and his brother 
 
128-1-1290.] ELEANORA OF CASTILE. 99 
 
 David, crowned with ivy, were fixed on London Bridge. 
 These savage triumphs were interrupted by the death of 
 Eleanora's young son, and England was left without heir 
 male. Then she agreed with her liusband that the child she 
 expected should be born in Wales. At the new-built castle 
 of Rhuddlan Princess Isabella was born, but, as a female, not 
 eligible for a Welsli ruler. The following year the faitliful 
 Eleanora gave birth, April 25, 1284, to a beautiful prince in 
 Caernarvon Castle, who received the name of Edward, aftei- 
 his royal sire, and was, from the place of his nativity, 
 surnamed Edward of Caernarvon. Here the royal victor pre- 
 sented his intant to the discontented Snowdon barons, wlio 
 had met to ask him to appoint tliem a prince to reign over 
 them who was stainless in character, and could speak no lan- 
 guage but Welsh. The king assured them " that his queen 
 had just made him father of a Welsh prince quite uninipeach- 
 ed in conduct, and that, as a Welsli woman was suckling him, 
 his first words would and should be in that tongue." Al- 
 though much discontented at this mode of meeting their re- 
 quest, the fierce Snowdon chiefs kissed the tiny hand of the 
 royal babe, and acknowledged him for their lord. The next 
 attempt of Edward was to unite the whole island by mar- 
 rying his little Prince of Wales to the small heiress of Scot- 
 land, Margaret of Norway, grand-daugliter to Alexander III. 
 The children were carried by procuration the next year ; the 
 little bride was then three years old. 
 
 In 1290 the Scotch sent for her, with the intention of con- 
 signing her to Queen Eleanora for tuition in England. But 
 the little queen died of sea-sickness in a storm off Orkney. 
 The succession to the Scottish crown became disputed be- 
 tween Baliol and Bruce, two Anglo-Norman nobles descended 
 from princesses of Scotland. Edward was really in posses- 
 sion of the country, having put in officials in the name of his 
 daughter-in-law. With full intent of retaining it by force of 
 arms, he bade farewell to his beloved Eleanora, charging her 
 to follow him with all convenient speed to the Scottish bor- 
 der. Eleanora set off in October, but fell sick of an autumnal 
 fever, at Hardeby, in Lincolnshire. Finding herself sinking, 
 she made her will, and prepared for death with great firmness. 
 Messengers had been dispatched announcing her danger if 
 to the king. Edward turned southward and traveled with 
 impetuous speed, but did not arrive in time to receive her 
 last sigh; she expired November 29, 1290. Forgetting, in 
 his grief for her, all his ambitious designs on Scotland, King 
 Edward followed for thirteen days the funeral procession of 
 
100 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1290. 
 
 liis beloved Eleanora from Lincolnshire to Westminster Ab- 
 bey, the place of her interment. Every night the royal bier 
 rested in the centre of some town or village ; tlie neighboring 
 ecclesiastics came forth to cense, and pray, and keep vigil 
 round it ; and King Edward vowed to erect a cross at each 
 of these stations, whence alms were to be distributed, sermons 
 preached, and services sung. Thei'e were thirteen of these 
 crosses, models of architectural beauty, erected. The last. 
 
 Edward I. From a statue in the choir of York Minster. 
 
 Charing Cross, near the place of final destination, was destroy- 
 ed in the I7tli century. Northampton Cross is still to be 
 seen. Fanciful tradition has preserved the memory that 
 Charing Cross was so called by Edward I., as he usually spoke 
 Proven5al French, and he meant to say the cross of the dear 
 queen, or cliere reine. All these crosses were, however, paid for 
 from her own funds, likewise the exquisite portrait-statue and 
 
1290.] ELEANORA OF CASTILE. 101 
 
 her tomb at Westminster Abbey, still to be seen in unimpair- 
 ed beauty. 
 
 Eleanora left seven daughters : one only out of four sons sur- 
 vived her, the unfortunate Edward of Caernarvon. The king 
 settled the crown on his dangliters successively, in case of the 
 failure of his male line, which never took place, since her 
 present Majesty represents both Edwards. There was a se- 
 cluded angle in old Westminster Palace, called the Maiden Hall 
 or Tower, where Eleanora's seven daughters were brought 
 up. The princess royal was married to the Duke of Barr or 
 Lorraine ; Joamia of Acre to the premier noble of England, 
 Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester ; Isabella married the 
 Count of Holland ; Mary became a nun ; Blanclie, Beatrice, 
 and Berengaria, all born in Aquitaine, died early in life. Out 
 of Eleanora's numerous family, only the nun-princess and the 
 hapless Edward II. reached middle life. 
 
102 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1294. 
 
 Edward I. From the Tower. 
 
 MAEGUERITE OF FRANCE, 
 
 SECOND QUEEN CONSORT OF EDWARD I. 
 
 Grief in the energetic mind of our great Edward assumed 
 tlie cliaracter of intense activity ; but after he had done more 
 ill funeral mementoes than any of his predecessors, he sank 
 into a morbid melancholy. One of our metrical chroniclers 
 emphatically records — 
 
 His solace all was reft since she was from him gone, 
 On fell things he thought, and waxed heavy as lead, 
 For sadness him o'ermastered since Eleanor was dead. 
 
 This forlorn state lasted full four years, when he demanded 
 the hand of Blanche la Belle, eldest sister of Philip le Bel, 
 King of France. Very solicitous was the widower king to 
 learn by his ambassadors whether the features of the French 
 ])rincess were as handsome as report declared ; likewise he 
 inquired as to the perfect form of her hands nnd feet, and the 
 turn of her waist, not forgetting her taste in dress. 
 
 After lie had been convinced that she Avas the fairest 
 
1299.J MARGUERITE OF FRANCE. ]0;3 
 
 princess in the world, his brother Edmund, Avho had married 
 the dowager-queen of Navarre, and was negotiating the mar- 
 riage treaty, was in consternation at finding the name of Mar- 
 guerite, a younger sister of only eleven years, was substituted 
 instead of Blanche. Edward I. in vain remonstrated, and in- 
 sisted on wedding the maturer beauty. Nevertheless he got 
 no redress. Although he was sixty, and had no time to lose, 
 he was actually left half married to Marguerite. He declared 
 war on her brother, and beat him, which did not soothe his 
 crosses in love, for his endeavors to conquer the Scotch gave 
 his warlike energies employment enough. Baliol, one of the 
 Scotch competitors in whose favor he had declared, after some 
 years of contest gave up his claims in favor of Edward I., to 
 the indignation of the Scotch people. They had, with the aid 
 of their great champion Wallace, expelled or slain all the offi- 
 cials put by the English governnient in the name of the young 
 Queen Margaret, and declared their independence. The other 
 competitor for the northern throne, Braose, or de Brus, had 
 been a favorite knight of Edward, but on the abnegation of 
 Baliol escaped from him after the battle of Falkirk, and raised 
 his banner in Scotland. Such were the affairs of the island 
 kingdoms, when, by the mediation of the Pope, the disputed 
 marriage of Edward I. and Marguerite was finally settled, 
 that princess having grown up. September 8, 12G9, "the 
 May Marguerite, good withouten lack," as the homely chroni- 
 cler declares, was sent to Dover, " with folk of good array," 
 and was married to Edward I. in his sixtieth year, at the 
 Church of the Holy Trinity in Canterbury, and formally dow- 
 ered at the door of that church, in the face of the whole con- 
 gregation, according to the ancient custom of England. Ed- 
 ward I. had little time to devote to his bride, for his northern 
 barons, who had that year long served out their feudal forty 
 days on the hard fighting-ground of Scotland, all decamped 
 while he was perforce absent. Although he allowed himself 
 only three days' wedding festivities, they left him with but the 
 shadow of an army. 
 
 The royal bride was left at the Tower of London, without 
 coronation, and there she was almost enclosed in quarantine, 
 for a horrible pestilence was raging in London. It Avas high- 
 ly infectious, being no other than the small-pox, which had 
 been imported from Syria by the returned crusaders of Ed- 
 ward's last campaign. The young queen, who extremely de- 
 lighted in the chase, was glad to exchange her dwelling in the 
 city fortress for Cawood Castle, belonging to the See of York, 
 a convenient distance for Edward L, who often visited her 
 
104 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1300-1303. 
 
 during his Scottish campaigns. Here he left her in April of 
 1300, and continued his warlike progress into Scotland. So 
 keen a huntress was the young wife of Edward, that she was 
 eagerly following the hounds on the banks of the Wherfe when 
 she became indisposed, and her attendants hurried her to the 
 first house near, which was at Brotherton, a little village ; and 
 there, in a sort of fortress farm-house, poii^d out for centuries, 
 she gave birth to Thomas Plantagenet, afterward Duke of Nor- 
 folk, June, 1300. Neither the fine vigorous young prince nor 
 his royal mother were the worse for his unceremonious entry 
 into life. The queen had been removed with her infant from 
 her lowly place of refuge to Cawood Castle, and thither came 
 the king down the Ouse to see them. When winter put an 
 end to the murderous campaigns in Scotland, the king again 
 came down that river, and took Marguerite home, progressing 
 southward from one hunting-seat to another, until they gained 
 Westminster Palace, or rather its ruins, for all but the state 
 apartments of St. Edward had been swept away by fire soon 
 after the death of the late queen. Therefore Edward's young 
 consort had no London residence excepting the ever gloomy 
 Tower of London. Marguerite spent much of her time at 
 Woodstock when her royal lord was not on his northern cam- 
 paigns. Here she gave birth to another son, August 5, 1301, 
 named Edmund. The nun-princess, her step-daughter, came 
 to bear her company in her lying-in chamber, and with her 
 went on pilgrimage to the shrine of Thomas a Becket at Can- 
 terbury, after whom the queen had named her eldest boy. 
 The queen brought her infants northward in the summer. 
 Again she fixed her court at Cawood ; here her step-daughter 
 Isabella, now the wife of the Earl of Hereford, and older than 
 the queen, was her first lady, and enjoyed her favor and af- 
 fection. In the succeeding year a mysterious occurrence caused 
 great irritation to King Edward, and no little inconvenience. 
 The treasure-tower at Westminster Abbey had been broken 
 open, and the king's jewels, plate, and all his ready money, 
 amounting to more than 100,000?., were stolen in February 
 1302-3. All had been in the charge of the monks of Westmin- 
 ster, who were imprisoned, to the great anger of the peo- 
 ple, for suspicion universally pointed at Edward, the Prince 
 of Wales, and his two roystering companions, unequaled 
 for lawless audacity — the prince's cousin and first lord 
 of his household, Gilbert de Clare, and his favorite. Piers Gav- 
 eston. The great Edward's frown grew darker on his heir 
 day by day, and the cares of the Scotch war exasperated 
 the aged hero's temper to that degree of violence, that 
 
1304.] MARGUERITE OF FRANCE. IO5 
 
 no one who had oiFended him daved approach him without 
 the intercession of his young queen, wlio was always ready 
 to soothe his wrath and avert it from his victims, as many 
 papers in our national records prove. The thouglitless son 
 of his beloved Eleanora however took no warning, for he so 
 grossly insulted the Bishop of Chester, when he remonstrated 
 with his daring favorites, Gilbert and Gaveston, as his instiga- 
 tors in his lawless pranks, that the king sternly banished Prince 
 Edward from the court, wliich he was warned not to approach 
 within fifteen miles. In this exigence the prince applied to his 
 ever kind step-mother, writing to her through his sister Isabel 
 for the favors his father would no longer grant. His tutor 
 wanted the prebend of Ripon, in the gift of the king. This 
 ecclesiastic, the son of a Windsor baker, was not good for much ; 
 he was now keeper of the prince's wardrobe, while waiting 
 for ecclesiastical preferment. The prince's letter, written in 
 French, has been preserved at the Tower. 
 
 " To THE Queen, health ! 
 
 " Very dear lady, as we dare not request on our own be- 
 half our lord the king concerning this or any of our other 
 needs, as you know, my lady ; therefore, my lady, we pray 
 your highness to help us as if on your own behalf, my lady, 
 that for your sake Walter Renaud may be advanced to the 
 prebend of Ripon. Very dear lady, the Lord i:)reserve you 
 and keep you with his jDOwer forever." 
 
 The queen certainly obtained this first step of preferment 
 for the Windsor baker-priest, and very rapid was his prefer- 
 ment, until he became Archbishop of Canterbury, when he 
 turned on his royal pupil with treacherous malice, siding with 
 his enemies, while the Bishop of Chester, who had justly re- 
 proved him for his faults, was the most faithful of friends in 
 poor Edward II.'s dire distress. 
 
 Throughout 1304 desperate struggles for mastery took 
 place in Scotland. Late at the close of the year Edward I. 
 sent for his queen to keep Christmas at Dunfermline, and par- 
 take of his triumph. Marguerite's journey was dangerous, for 
 the hero Wallace still carried on a desultory warfare, which 
 made traveling pei'ilous. Among the few notices of Mar- 
 guerite's residence at Dunfermline, is a gratuity in her ex- 
 pense book, of forty shillings paid to the valet that brought 
 the news of the defeat of Wallace by Lord Segrave. Soon 
 after the defeated hero was betrayed by villains into Edward's 
 hands. The royal progress set out southward. Wallace was 
 
 E* 
 
106 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1305. 
 
 brought after its cortege fettered hand and foot — whether 
 thus in Scotlajid is not certain, but that was the case in Car- 
 lisle ; for while King Edward and Queen Marguerite rested 
 and feasted in the castle, their illustrious captive bided the 
 bitter winter night fettered in his cart under the gateway. 
 Marguerite dared not plead for hira, nor have we any right to 
 assert that she was so inclined. Wallace, dragged after the 
 royal train through England, Avas sent to the Tower, and cruel- 
 ly put to death in London, in the midst of the greatest festivi- 
 ties, by which Edward celebrated his entire sovereignty over 
 the insular empire. 
 
 Queen Marguerite never had been crowned, yet she liad a 
 beautiful crown made by Thomas Fro wick, costing 400/., 
 probably for coronation as queen consort of England and 
 Scotland. But the king was very poor since his loss of the 
 contents of his treasure-tower ; and the goldsmith, ruined by 
 the delay, and by some old debts of Henry III., sent in a bill 
 which would be considered odd in these times, craving the 
 king, " for God's sake, and for the sake of the soul of King 
 Henry, his father, to order him payment." And Frowick was 
 told to take in his bill to the exchequer, having added to it 
 his charge for certain cups and bowls, and he should be paid 
 440/. on account. Thus Queen Marguerite, though she never 
 was crowned, had a rich crown provided at the expense of 
 her lord. 
 
 Again the heir of England quarreled with the Bishop of 
 Chester, Lord Treasurer of England, who advised the king to 
 separate from this thoughtless boy his two audacious domes- 
 tics, de Clare and Gaveston. The king not only dismissed 
 them, but confined his son to the castle and park of Old Wind- 
 sor, giving him for his sole attendants two very discreet young 
 men, who were forbidden to hold any conversation with him. 
 Prince Edward was very dull, and had recourse to the good 
 offices of the queen, his step-mother. He wrote a French 
 letter to his sister Isabel, " that she would beg the lady- 
 queen his dear mother to ask the king to grant him the res- 
 toration of his two attendants, Gilbert and Perot (Piers Gave- 
 ston), as then he should be relieved from the anguish he daily 
 suffered." It Avas by no means his fathei*'s intention so to 
 lighten his punishment. Nevertheless she succeeded in recon- 
 ciling him by the next New Year's Day, when young Edward 
 was knighted, and solemnly received investiture as Prince of 
 Wales. 
 
 The Scotch, supposed to be entirely subdued, crowned Rob- 
 ert Bruce as their king. The coronet used on this occasion 
 
1307.] MARGUERITE OF FRANCE. 107 
 
 was made and privily sent to Bruce by Godfrey de Coigners, 
 who was doomed to death by Edward I. The queen how- 
 ever interfered and begged the man's life of lier husband. 
 As for the city of Winchester, its mayor was in the greatest 
 danger. Edward had given him to keep safely Bernard Pe- 
 reres, a hostage from liis turbulent city of Bayonne, who ran 
 away. The great Edward ordered his sheriff of Hampsliire 
 to punish Winchester. Its citizens were forthwith reduced 
 to the state of feudal villeins, and its mayor, loaded with enor- 
 mous fines, was throw into the Marshalsea. Queen Marguerite 
 remembered that she had been received on her first arrival in 
 England at Winchester with great distinction, and that her 
 husband had given her a charter entitling her to all the fines 
 paid by its citizens ; upon which she claimed of the king the 
 hapless mayor, and set iiim at liberty, nor did she cease plead- 
 ing for the men of Winchester until their liberties were re- 
 stored. Soon after the queen went to her palace in tlieir an- 
 cient city, where she gave birth to a princess, who was bap- 
 tized Eleanora, in memory of Edward's first queen, and of her 
 eldest daughter, then dead. But the little princess expired 
 soon after. The same summer the queen set out with King 
 Edward to attend him on his fourth Scottish campaign, as that 
 unconquerable nation was as insurgent as ever. Edward I. 
 waited some days at Burgh-on-Sands, near the Solway, until 
 his son Edward brought up the rear of the army. The king 
 fell ill of dysentery, and his last hour drew near. Not long 
 after the arrival of the prince, the king expressed the utmost 
 fury against the Scotch rebels, and charged his son to behave 
 with kindness to the queen and to her two little sons, Thom- 
 as and Edmund. He expired July 7, 1307. 
 
 Notwithstanding his father's denunciations against the 
 Scotch, Edward 11. abandoned the war, and turning south- 
 Avard, he brought the royal corpse to Westminster Abbey, 
 and had him interred in St. Edward's chapel. 
 
 The queen expressed her grief by the means of a commem- 
 oration written by her chronicler, John o'London. It is in 
 fine preservation, a beautiful piece of penmanship, among the 
 king's manuscripts at the British Museum. " The noble and 
 generous matron, Queen Marguerite," writes John o'London, 
 "thus invites all men to hear her lamentable commemoration," 
 which seems like a funeral sermon. " Hear ye isles, and 
 attend, my people, for is any sorrow like unto my sorrow ? 
 Though my head wears a crown, joy is distant from me, and I 
 listen no more to the sound of my cithera and organs. At the 
 foot of Edward's monument, with my little sons, I weep and 
 
108 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1327. 
 
 call upon him. When Edward died all men died to me." These 
 lamentations for a husband of more than seventy years old from 
 a widow not more than twenty-six, seem exaggerated, yet the 
 after life of Marguerite proved their sincerity. It was in obe- 
 dience to Edward's dying commands that she went to Bou- 
 logne, and assisted at the marriage of her niece Isabella with 
 her step-son Edward II., and while she lived the young queen's 
 conduct was virtuous. The favorite residence of Marguerite 
 in her widowhood was her dower-house of Marlborough, near 
 the forest of Savernake. It was there she died, at the early 
 age of thirty-six, February 14, 1327. She was buried under a 
 
 Great Seal of Edward I. 
 
 magnificent monument in the Grey Friars' Church, by New- 
 gate Street. Owing to the avarice of Sir Martin Bowes, who 
 coveted and appropriated all the bronze monuments with 
 which this church was replete, that and Queen Marguerite's 
 tomb and portrait-statue was destroyed. Another, however, 
 in fine preservation, is to be seen among the effigies round the 
 tomb of her great nephew, John of Eltham, in Westminster 
 Abbey. She is represented as a royal widow, but not as a pro- 
 fessed religieuse ; she wears a veil and wimple, over which 
 is placed a rich open crown of fleur-de-lis ; she has her royal 
 mantle on her shoulders, and a loose robe belted with jewels. 
 Her two sons, Thomas and Edmund, were executors to her 
 
1327.] MARGUERITE OF FRANCE. IO9 
 
 will. Queen Marguerite is the ancestress of all the English 
 nobility bearing the name of Howard, her son, Thomas Plan- 
 tagenet, Earl-Marshal of England, having his honors carried 
 into that family by his representative, Lady Maj'garet Mow- 
 bray. The calamities of Edmund, the yoimgest son of Ed- 
 ■\vard I. and Queen Mariruerite, almost equaled those of his 
 hapless brother Edward II. 
 
110 
 
 QUEENS OP ENGLAND. 
 
 Great Seal of Edward II. 
 
 ISABELLA OF FRANCE, 
 
 SURNAMED THE FAIR, 
 
 QUEEN OF EDWARD II. 
 
 Isabella, w.as the offspring of a marriage between two 
 sovereigns — Philip le Bel, King of France, and Jane, Queen 
 of Navarre. Three of lier brothers, Louis le Hutin, Philip le 
 Long, and Charles le Bel, successively wore the royal diadem 
 of France. She was born in the year 1295. Edward I, was 
 so desirous of an alliance with Philip le Bel, that among his 
 death-bed injunctions to his heir he charged him, on his bless- 
 ing, to complete the matrimonial treaty with Isabella. This 
 Avas, in truth, the only command of his dying sire to which 
 Edward II. thought proper to render obedience. Accompa- 
 nied by his mother-in-law, Queen Marguerite, he left England 
 January 22, 1308, to meet his bride. He landed at Boulogne, 
 where Isabella had already arrived with her royal parents. 
 The next day, January 26, the nuptials were magnificently 
 celebrated in the cathedral there. The beauty of the royal 
 pair excited universal admiration ; for the bridegroom Ed- 
 
1307.] ISABELLA OF FRANCE. ] | ] 
 
 ward was the handsomest prince in Europe, and the bride 
 liad already obtained the name of Isabella the Fair. They 
 embarked for England, February 7th, and landed at Dover 
 the same day. The young queen's outfit was magnificent. 
 She brought with her to England two gold crowns, orna- 
 mented with gems, a number of gold and silver drinking ves- 
 sels, golden spoons, fifty silver porringers, twelve great silver 
 dishes, and twelve smaller ones. Her dresses were made of 
 gold and silver stuft', velvet, and shot taffety. She had six 
 dresses of green cloth from Douay, six beautifully marbled, 
 and six of rose scarlet, besides many costly furs. She brought 
 tapestry for her own chamber, figui'ed in lozenges of gold, 
 with the arms of France, England, and Brabant. The King 
 of France, on the occasion of his daughter's nuptials, had 
 likewise made his royal son-in-law a profusion of costly pres- 
 ents, such as jewels, rings, and other precious articles, all of 
 which Edward immediately bestowed on his favorite, Piers 
 Gaveston. Isabella naturally resented this improper transfer 
 of her father's munificent gifts. 
 
 So great was the concourse of spectators at her coronation 
 that many serious accidents occurred, through the eager de- 
 sire of the people to obtain a sight of the beautiful young 
 queen ; a knight, Sir John Bakewell, was trodden to death. 
 Gaveston had the whole management of the coronation cere- 
 monial ; but from the beginning to the end it was a scene of 
 disorder. Before the consecration of the king and queen 
 was over the clock struck three ; and when the shortness of 
 the winter days are considered, no one can wonder at the fact 
 stated, that though there was abundance of provisions of 
 every kind, there was not a morsel served up at the queen's 
 table before dark. The lateness of the dinner hour appears 
 to have excited the indignation of the hungry nobles more 
 than any other of Gaveston's misdeeds that day. The ban- 
 quet was badly cooked, and when at last brought to table, ill 
 served, and few of the usual ceremonies were observed. The 
 young queen sent a letter to her father full of complaints 
 against the favorite, saying, moreover, that she was M'holly 
 without money. It is possible that if Isabella had been of an 
 age more suitable to that of her husband, her beauty and tal- 
 ents might have created a counter influence to that of the 
 Gascon favorite ; but the king was in his three-and-twen- 
 tieth yeai-, and evidently considered a consort who was only 
 entering her teens as entitled to a very trifling degree of at- 
 tention, either as a queen or a wife. Isabella was, however, 
 perfectly aware of the importance of her position in the En- 
 
112 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1312. 
 
 glish court. Isabella's father secretly incited the English 
 barons to a combination against Gaveston, which compelled 
 the king to promise to send him beyond seas. This engage- 
 ment Edward deceitfully performed, by making him Viceroy 
 of Ireland, which country he ruled with great ability. 
 
 Ponthieu, tlie inheritance of the king's mother, was given 
 for the young queen's use. Gaveston took occasion to return 
 to England, to attend a tournament at Wallingford. The 
 queen, her uncle the Earl of Lancaster, and all the baronage 
 of England, made common cause against him; and Edward, 
 not daring to oppose so potent a combination, sent his fa- 
 vorite to Guienne. 
 
 It was not till the fifth year of Isabella's marriage with Ed- 
 ward II. that any well-grounded hope existed of her bringing 
 an heir to England ; and the period at which this joyful pros- 
 pect first became apparent was amid the horrors of civil 
 Avar. The Earl of Lancaster, at the head of the malcontent 
 barons, took up arms against the sovereign in the year 1312, 
 in order to limit the regal authority, and to compel Edward 
 to dismiss Piers Gaveston from his councils. Isabella accom- 
 panied her lord and his favorite to York, and shared their 
 flight to Newcastle ; where, not considering either Gaveston 
 or himself safe from the victorious bai-ons, who had entered 
 York in triumph, Edward, in spite of all her tears and passion- 
 ate entreaties to the contrary, abandoned hei', and retreated 
 with Gaveston to Scarborough. The forsaken queen, on the 
 advance of the confederate* barons, retired to Tynemouth 
 Castle. Gaveston, being destitute of the means of standing a 
 siege, surrended to the confederate lords. He was brought to 
 a sham trial, and beheaded at Blacklow Hill, near Warwick. 
 
 Edward, after much futile rage, returned to his queen at 
 Windsor. There, November 13, 1312, Isabella, then in the 
 eighteenth year of her age and the fifth of her marriage, 
 brought into the world the long desired heir of England, 
 afterward that renowned monarch, Edward III. Four days 
 after his birth he was baptized with great pomp in the old 
 chapel of St. Edward, in the castle of Windsor. Isabella's 
 influence, after this happy event, was very considerable with 
 her royal husband, and at this period her conduct was admi- 
 rable. It was through her mediation that a reconciliation was 
 at length efiected between King Edward and his barons, and 
 peace restored. Before the amnesty was published. Queen 
 Isabella visited Aquitaine in company with her royal hus- 
 band ; from thence they went to Paris, where they remained 
 at the court of Philip the Fair nearly two months, enjoying 
 
1318-1321.] ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 113 
 
 the feasts and pageants wliich the wealthy and magniticent 
 court of France provided for their entertainment. 
 
 The renewal of the Scottish wars in 1314 occasioned a tem- 
 porary separation between the royal pair. Stirling was be- 
 sieged by King Robert Bruce, and the English garrison de- 
 manded succor of their laggard sovereign, Edward at last 
 took the field in person, only to meet with a disgraceful over- 
 throw at Bannockburn, which the national pride of his sub- 
 jects never could forgive. During the absence of King Ed- 
 ward in this disastrous campaign, his queen was brought to 
 bed of hersecond son, Prince John, atEltham Palace. Forfour 
 years this queen of evil fame was sweetly engaged with her 
 infant family. The birth of the Princess Eleanora took place 
 in 1318. The household-book notes the king's gift of 333?. 
 " to the Lady Isabella, Queen of England, for her churching 
 feast, after the birth of the Lady Eleanora." 
 
 Robert Bruce laid siege to Berwick, 1318, Avhen Queen 
 Isabella accompanied her lord into the north, and while he 
 advanced to the border, she, with her young family, took up 
 her abode at the former residence of her^ late, aunt. Queen 
 Marguerite* Earl Douglas marched into England af the head 
 of 10,000 men, and nearly arrived at the village where Queen 
 Isabella and her children resided, when one of his scouts fell 
 into the hands of the Ai'chbishop of York. The queen re- 
 moved to York, and afterward, for greater security, was 
 taken to Nottingham. She subsequently set out on a pilgrim- 
 age to the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket at Canterbury, pro- 
 posing to pass the night of October 13, 1321, at her own dow- 
 er-castle of Leeds, in Kent, of which Bartholomew Badlesmere, 
 one of the " associated barons," was castellan. She sent her mar- 
 shal and purveyors before her to order proper arrangements 
 to be made for her reception. Lady Badlesmere replied with 
 great insolence to the royal messengers, " that the queen 
 might seek some other lodging, for she would not admit any 
 one within the castle without an order from her lord." 
 While the dispute was proceeding between the Lady Badles- 
 mere and the harbingers, the queen and her train arrived at 
 the castle gates, and were received with a volley of arrows, 
 which slew six of the royal escort, and compelled the queen 
 to seek other shelter for the night. Isabella complained bitter- 
 ly to the king of the murders, and the insolence of Lady Bad- 
 lesmere in presuming to exclude her from her own castle. 
 
 Lady Badlesmere was committed to the Tower of London 
 as a state ])risoner, and was threatened with the same fate that 
 had been inflicted on her bowmen, who were hanged. She 
 
114 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1323. 
 
 suffered rigorous imprisonment ; but with all their faults, 
 there is no instance of any monarch of the Plantagenet line 
 putting a lady to death for high treason. But this proved 
 the renewal of the barons' wars of the time of Edward II. 
 
 It was at this agitating period that Isabella gave birth to 
 her youngest child, the Princess Joanna, who was called, 
 from the place of her nativity, Joanna of the Tower. Some 
 time before the birth of this infant, two fierce barons of royal 
 descent, having been taken in arms against the king, were 
 brought to the Tower as state prisoners, under sentence of 
 death and confiscation of their great estates. Roger Morti- 
 mer, Lord of Chirk, the uncle, was starved to death. Roger 
 Mortimer, the nephew, contrived, while under sentence of 
 death in one of the pi'ison lodgings of the Tower of London, to 
 create a powerful interest in the heart of the beautiful consort 
 of his offended sovereign. He was the husband of a Fi-ench 
 lady, Jane de Joinville, and was well acquainted with the lan- 
 guage that was most pleasing to the queen. His sentence 
 was soon after reprieved from death to imprisonment for life. 
 
 In the succeeding year, 1323, we find the tameless border 
 chief, from his dungeon in the Tower, organizing a plan for 
 the seizure of that royal fortress. Again was Mortimer con- 
 demned to suffer death for high treason ; again he obtained a 
 respite. On the 1st of August the same year, Gerard Alspaye, 
 the valet of Segrave, the constable of the Tower, who was sup- 
 jjosed to be in co-operation with him, gave the men-at-arms a 
 soporific potion in a drink jDrovided by the queen ; and 
 while the guards were asleep, Mortimer passed through a 
 liole he had worked in his own prison into the kitchen of the 
 royal residence, ascended the chimney, got on the roof of the pal- 
 ace, and from thence to the Thames's side by a ladder of 
 ropes. Segrave's valet then took a sculler and rowed him 
 over to the opposite bank of the river, where they found a 
 party of seven horsemen, Mortimer's vassals, waiting to re- 
 ceive him. With this guard he made his way to Southamp- 
 ton, and from thence sailed safely to Normandy. Edw\ard II. 
 Avas in Lancashire when he heard of the escape of Mortimer. 
 He roused all England with a hue and cry after him, seeking 
 him in his hereditary demesnes — the marches of Wales. 
 
 Meantime, the queen commenced her deep laid schemes for 
 the ruin of Mortimer's enemies, the Despencers. These two 
 Despencers had succeeded to the same sort of ascendancy 
 over the king as Gaveston ; they were his principal ministers 
 of state, and they had ventured' to curtail the revenues of the 
 queen. A fierce struggle for supremacy between her and the 
 
1325.] ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 115 
 
 Despencers, duiing the year 1324, ended in the discharge of 
 all her French servants, and the substitution of an inadecjuate 
 pension for herself. The King of France, exasperated by his 
 sister's representations of lier wrongs, made an attack on 
 Guienne, which aifoi'ded an excuse to the Despencers for ad- 
 vising King Edward to deprive the queen of her last possession 
 in England — the earldom of Cornwall. 
 
 Then Isabella denied her company to her lord, and lie refused 
 to come where she was. King Charles testified his indignant 
 sense of his sister's treatment, by declaring his intention of 
 seizing all the provinces held by King Edward of the French 
 crown, he having repeatedly summoned him in vain to perform 
 the accustomed homage for them. Edward was not prepared 
 to engage in a war for their defense, and neither he nor his 
 ministers liked the alternative of a personal visit to the court 
 of the incensed brother of Queen Isabella, after the indignities 
 that had been offered to her. So matters continued until Charles 
 of France seized Guienne. Then Isabella herself volunteered 
 to act as mediatrix between the two monarchs, provided she 
 might be permitted to go to Paris to negotiate a pacification. 
 Edward, who had so often been extricated from his political 
 difficulties by the diplomatic talents of his fair consort, accept- 
 ed her offer. She departed for France in the beginning of 
 May. Her consort, far from suspecting her guileful intentions, 
 j^ermitted his heir. Prince Edward, to accompany her ; who, 
 attended by a splendid train of nobles and knights, sailed from 
 Dover, September 12, 1325, and proceeded with the queen, his 
 niothei', to Paris, where his first interview with the king his 
 uncle took place in her presence, and he performed the act of 
 feudal homage for his father on the 21st, at the castle of Vin- 
 cennes. Mortimer and all the banished English lords flocked 
 round Queen Isabella. The English ambassadors, offended at 
 the conduct of the queen and Mortimer, withdrew to England, 
 and informed the king of her proceedings, urging him to com- 
 mand her immediate return with her son. King Edward wrote 
 urgent letters to Isabella herself to that effect, of which this is 
 
 KING EDWARD TO QUEEK ISABELLA. 
 
 " Lady — Oftentimes have we informed you, both before and 
 after the homage, of our great desire to have you with ns, 
 and of our grief of heart at your long absence; and as we un- 
 derstand that you do us great mischief by this, we will that 
 you come to us with all speed, and without farther excuses. 
 Before the homnge was performed, you made the advance- 
 
lie QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [13L'5. 
 
 ment of tliat business an excuse; and now tliat we have sent 
 by the honorable father, the Bishop of Winchester, our safe 
 conduct to you, ' you will not come for the fear and doubt of 
 Hugh le Despencer !' Whereat we can not marvel too much, 
 when we recall your flattering deportment toward each other 
 in our presence, so amicable and sweet was your deportment, 
 with special assurances and looks, and other tokens of tl>e 
 firmest friendship, and also, since then, your very especial let- 
 ters to him of late date, which he has shown to us. 
 
 " And certes, lady, we know for truth, and so' know you, 
 that he has always procured from us all the honor he could for 
 you, nor to you has either evil or villainy been done since you 
 entered into our companionship ; unless, peradventure, as you 
 may yourself remember, once, when we had cause to give you 
 secretly some words of reproof for your pride, but without 
 other harshness : and, doubtless, both God and the law of our 
 holy Church require you to honor us, and for nothing earthly 
 to trespass against our commandments, or to forsake our com- 
 pany. And we are much displeased, now the homage has 
 been made to our dearest brother, the King of France, and we 
 have such fair prospect of amity, that you, whom we sent to 
 make the peace, should be the cause (which God forefend) of 
 increasing the breach between us. Wherefore we charge you, 
 that ceasing from all pretenses, delays, and excuses, you come 
 to us with all the haste you can. Also, we require of you that 
 our dear son Edward return to us with all possible speed, for 
 we much desire to see him and to speak with him." 
 
 King Edward's letter to the Prince of Wales follows : 
 
 " Very Dear Son — As you are young and of tender age, 
 we remind you of that which we charged and commanded you 
 at your departure from Dover, and you answered then, as we 
 know with good will, ' that you would not trespass or' dis- 
 obey any of our injunctions in any point for any one.' And 
 since that your homage has been received by our dearest 
 brother, the King of France, your uncle. Be pleased to take 
 your leave of him, and return to us with all speed in compa- 
 ny with your mother, if so be that she will come quickly ; and 
 if she will not come, then come you without farther delay, for 
 we have great desire to see you, and to speak witli you : 
 therefore stay not for your mother, nor for any one else, on 
 our blessing. 
 
 " Given at Westminster, the 2d day of December," [1325.] 
 
 After these letters Charles le Bel looked very coolly on his 
 
132G.] ISABELLA OF FRANCE. UY 
 
 sister, and nrgcd liev to return, with her son, to her royal hus- 
 band. Isabella had other intentions. About this time she re- 
 ceived a deputation from the confederate barons, assuring her 
 " that if she could only raise a thousand men, and would come 
 with the prince to England at the head of that force, they 
 would place him on the throne to govern under her guidance." 
 
 Edward II. had been informed of his queen's clandestinely 
 contracting their son in marriage to the daughter of the Count 
 of Hainault. The bride's portion, paid in advance, was re- 
 quired by Isabella to support herself* against her unhappy 
 lord. 
 
 In the month of June, 1326, King Edward made a last fruit- 
 less attempt to prevail on the prince, his son, to withdraw 
 himself from the evil counsels and companions of the queen, his 
 mother, and to return to him. His letter aftbrds indubitable 
 evidence how accurately tlie king was informed of his wife's 
 jiroceedings with regard to Mortimer. 
 
 But Isabella succeeded in persuading her son that she was 
 the object of tlie most barbarous persecution. Edward II. sent 
 copies of his letters to the Pope, who thereupon addressed re- 
 monstrances to Charles le Bel on his detention of the Queen 
 of England from her royal consort, and charged liim, under 
 the penalty of excommunication, to dismiss both Isabella and 
 her son from his dominions. When King Charles had read 
 these letters, he was greatly disturbed, and ordered his sister 
 to be made acquainted with their contents, for he had held no 
 conversation with her for a long time (having become aware 
 of her shameless conduct at Paris with Mortimer). He order- 
 ed her to leave his kingdom immediately, or he would make 
 her quit it with shame. 
 
 The queen had no adviser left but her dear cousin, Robert 
 d'Artois. They both acted secretly, since the king, her broth- 
 er, had not only said, but sworn, " that whoever should speak 
 in her behalf should forfeit his lands, and incur banishment." 
 Robert discovered that a plan Avas in agitation for delivering 
 Isabella, her son, the Earl of Kent, and Mortimer, to Edward 
 II., and came in the middle of the night to warn her of her 
 peril. Accompanied by her son and Mortimer, Isabella left 
 Paris, and traveled to Ostrevant, in Hainault, where she 
 lodged at the house of a poor knight, called Sir Eustace d'Ara- 
 breticourt, who received her with great pleasure, and enter- 
 tained her in the best manner he could. 
 
 The Count of Hainault was then at Valenciennes. Sir John, 
 his brother, conducted Isabella to Valenciennes, where the 
 Count of Hainault and his countess received her very gra- 
 
118 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [lo2G. 
 
 ciously. She vemaiiied at Valenciennes during eight days. 
 When she was preparing for her departure, Jolm of Hainault 
 wrote letters to certain knights in whom he put great confi- 
 dence, in Brabant and Bohemia, " beseeching them, by all the 
 friendship there was between them, to arm in the cause of the 
 distressed Queen of England." 
 
 An armament having assembled at Dort for her service, the 
 queen, her son and suite, and Sir John of Hainault, embarked 
 there. The fleet was tossed with a great tempest, but made 
 the port of Oxford in Suftblk, when the queen being got safely 
 on shore, her knights and attendants made her a house with 
 four carpets, open in the front, where they kindled her a great 
 fire of the pieces of wreck, some of their ships having been 
 beaten to pieces in the tempest. Meantime the Flemish sail- 
 ors landed all the horses and arras before midnight. The queen 
 marched at day-break, with banners displayed, toward the 
 next country town, where she found the houses amply and 
 well furnished with provisions, but all the people fled. The 
 advanced guard, meantime, spread themselves over the coun- 
 try, and seized all the cattle and food they could get ; and the 
 owners followed them, crying bitterly, into the presence of 
 the queen, who asked them " what was the fair value of the 
 goods ?" and when they named the price, she paid them all 
 liberally in ready money. She was met and welcomed at 
 Harwich by her uncle, Henry of Lancaster, and many other 
 barons and knights. Her force consisted of two thousand 
 seven hundred and fifty-seven foreign soldiers, well appointed, 
 commanded by Lord John of Plainault. Mortimer was the 
 leader of her English partisans. It was asserted that she had 
 been driven into a foreign land by plots against her life, and 
 that she was the most oppressed of queens — the most injured 
 of wives. 
 
 When the intelligence of the queen's landing reached the 
 king, he issued a proclamation, proscribing all those who had 
 taken arms against him, with the exception of Queen Isabella, 
 the prince her son, and his brother the Earl of Kent. It is 
 dated September 28, 1326: in it he ofiers a thousand pounds 
 for the head of the arch-traitor, Roger Mortimer. The queen, 
 who had traversed England with great celerity, immediately 
 published a reward of double that sum for the head of the 
 younger Despencer. The king and the younger Hugh De- 
 spencer shut themselves up in Bristol Castle : old Sir Hugh 
 and ihe Earl of Arundel remained in the town, but these the 
 citizens delivered up soon after to the queen, who had with 
 her army entered Bristol, accompanied by Sir John Hainault. 
 
1326.] ISABELLA OF FRANCE. ]19 
 
 Sir Hugh Despencer the elder was surrendered to the queen, 
 that slie might do what she pleased with him. The children 
 of the queen were also brought to lier — John of Eltliam and 
 her two daughters. As she had not seen them for a long 
 time, this gave her great joy. She condemned Sir Hugh 
 Despencer to suffer a traitor's death, and although he was 
 ninety years old, he was hanged in his armor, just as he was 
 taken from the queen's presence, under the view of the king 
 and his son, who were besieged in Bristol Castle. Dispirited 
 by this sight, they tried to escape, but the royal fugitive and 
 liis hapless favorite were brought back to Bristol, and delivered 
 to the queen as her prisoners. The unfortunate Hugh De- 
 spencer would eat no food from the moment he was taken 
 prisoner, and becoming very faint, Isabella had him tried at 
 Hereford, lest he should die before he reached London. His 
 miseries were ended by an execution, at which the queen Avas 
 present, accompanied with too many circumstances of horror 
 and cruelty to be more than alluded to here. He was put to 
 death at Hereford, the stronghold of the power of Mortimer. 
 
 Now the evil nature of Isabella of France blazed out in full 
 view. Hitherto her beauty, her eloquence, and her com- 
 plaints had won all hearts toward her cause ; but the touch- 
 stone of prosperity showed her natural character. Yet she 
 was hailed in London as the deliverer of the country. The 
 parliament met, the misdemeanors of the sovereign were can- 
 vassed, his deposition Avas decreed, and his eldest son was 
 elected to his office, and immediately proclaimed king in West- 
 minster Hall by the style and title of Edward III. 
 
 The ceremony of Edward II.'s abdication, in this instance, 
 consisted chiefly in the king's surrender of the crown, sceptre, 
 orb, and other ensigns of royalty, for the use of his son and 
 successor. The coronation was solemnized in Westminster 
 Abbey, January the 2Gth, 1326. Its most remarkable feature 
 Avas the hypocritical demeanor of the queen-mother Isabella, 
 who, though she had been the principal cause of her husband's 
 deposition, affected to weep during the whole of tlie cere- 
 mony. But the moment she learned that Henry of Lancaster 
 was beginning to treat him with kindness, she had him re- 
 moved from Kenilworth, and gave him into the charge of bru- 
 tal ruffians, by whom the royal victim was conducted, first to 
 Corfe Castle, and then to Bristol. There a project was formed 
 by the citizens for his deliverance. When this was discovered, 
 the associate-traitors, Gurney and Maltravers, hmnied him to 
 Berkeley Castle, destined to be his last resting-place. The 
 queen's mandate for the murder of her royal husband was con- 
 
120 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1327. 
 
 veyed in that memorable Latin distich from the subtle pen of 
 Adam Orleton, the master-fiend of her cabinet. Latin was 
 not then punctuated ; the sense in English may be read two 
 ways, forming a good lesson in punctuation, and showing to 
 our young readers the use of that most useful art : 
 
 Edward to kill fear not, the deed is good. 
 Edward kill not, to fear the deed is good. 
 
 Maurice de Berkeley, the lord of the castle, on the first ar- 
 rival of the unhappy Edward, had treated him with so much 
 courtesy and respect, that he was not only denied access to 
 him, but deprived of all power in his own house. On the 
 night of the 22d of September, 1327, exactly a twelvemonth 
 after the return of the queen to England, the murder of her 
 unfortunate husband was perpetrated, with circumstances of 
 the greatest horror. No outward marks of violence were 
 perceptible on his person when the body was exposed to pub- 
 lic view, but the rigid and distorted lines of the face bore 
 evidence of the agonies he had undergone, and it is reported 
 that his cries had been heard at a considerable distance from 
 the castle where this barbarous regicide was committed. 
 "Many a one woke," adds the narrator, " and prayed to God 
 for the harmless soul which that night was departing in tor- 
 ture." 
 
 For some days no one durst offer to bring the dead king to 
 his burial. At last the abbot of Gloucester boldly entered the 
 blood-stained halls of Berkeley with uplifted crosier, followed 
 by his brethren, and throwing a pall, emblazoned with his 
 own arms and those of the Church, over the bier, bade his 
 people, " In the name of God and St. Peter, take up their 
 dead lord, and bear him to his burial in the church to which 
 he had given so many pious gifts." No one dared gainsay 
 him. Edward IL was buried in the cathedral, and there rests 
 at present. 
 
 The public indignation was so greatly excited against the in- 
 famous assassins of Edward II., suborned by the queen and 
 Mortimer, that they were fain to make their escape beyond 
 seas, to avoid the vengeance of the people. The queen en- 
 deavored by the marriage festivities of her son and Philippa 
 of Hainault, to dissipate the general gloom. Nothing but her 
 military despotism enabled her to keep possession of her 
 usurped poAver. Without sanction of Parliament the queen 
 concluded peace with Scotland and marriage between the Prin- 
 cess Joanna, an infant five years old, and David Bruce, the 
 heir of Scotland, who was about two years older. Isabella ac- 
 
1321).] ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 121 
 
 companied her young daughter to Berwick, attended by Mor- 
 timer, and in their presence the royal children were married 
 in that town, July 12, 1328. The Earl of Kent had, ever since 
 the death of the king his brother, suffered the greatest remorse. 
 Isabella, being aware of his state of mind, caused it to be in- 
 sinuated to him that the late sovereign his brother was not 
 dead, but a prisoner within the walls of Corfe Castle, He 
 wrote to the governor inquiring the truth, when his letters 
 falling into the queen's hands, she arrested him for treason. 
 His arraignment took place on Sunday, March 13, 1329, and he 
 was executed on the morrow. The queen farther outraged 
 public opinion by presenting the principal part of the estates 
 of this prince of the blood royal to Mortimer's son, Geoffrey. 
 
 The death of Charles, King of France, without male issue, 
 having left Isabella the sole surviving child of Philip le Bel, 
 her eldest son, Edward III., considered that he had the best 
 claim to the sovereignty of France. The twelve peers of France 
 decided otherwise, and gave, first the regency, and then (on the 
 birth of the posthumous daughter of Charles le Bel) the throne 
 to Philip of Valois, the cousin of their late king. Edward was 
 eager to assert his claim as the nephew of that monarch, and 
 the grandson of Philip le Bel ; but his mother compelled him, 
 sorely against his will, to acknowledge those of his rival, by 
 performing homage for the provinces held of the French crown. 
 Edward III. returned from his last conference with King 
 Philip, at Amiens, out of humor Avith himself, and still more 
 so with his mother. TJie murder of his royal father, the in- 
 famy of Isabella's life with Mortimer, her cruelty, falsehood, 
 and rapacity, were represented to him by his faithful friends. 
 While her son was in a most indignant frame of mind, Isabella 
 summoned her parliament as queen-regent to meet at Notting- 
 ham. The young king had intended to occupy the castle him- 
 self, but his mother forestalled him by establishing herself 
 there beforehand, under guard of Mortimer's retainers. At 
 the foot of the castle was a cavernous passage, still known by 
 the name of " Mortimer's hole," through which one night the 
 king and his friends were brought by torchlight to the queen's 
 chamber, where they surprised Mortimer with her. They drag- 
 ged him into the hall, the queen following, crying out, "7ie^ 
 Jilz, ayezpitiee de gentil Mortimer P'' for she knew her son was 
 there, though she saw him not. Mortimer was hurried aw^ay, 
 and the castle locked on the queen. The next morning Morti- 
 mer and his partisans were led prisoners toward London. On 
 his arrival in London, Mortimer Avas for a few hours commit- 
 ted to the Tower, previous to his summary execution, wliich 
 
 F 
 
122 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1332-1858. 
 
 was instantly carried into effect, the king refusing to hear what 
 the accused had to say in liis own vindication — an illegal pro- 
 ceeding which afterward led to the advantage of his heir. Isa- 
 bella was s})ared the ignominy of a public trial through the in- 
 tercession of the Pope, John XXII., Avho wrote to the young 
 king, exhorting hiiu not to expose his mother's shame. 
 
 Castle Rising, in Norfolk, was the place where Queen Isa- 
 bella was destined to spend the long years of her widowhood. 
 During her confinement Isabella was afflicted Avith occasional 
 fits of derangement. It is asserted that these aberrations com- 
 menced in a violent access of madness, which seized her while 
 the body of Mortimer hung on the gallows. For many months 
 the populace did not know what had become of her. Her de- 
 rangement was attributed to the horrors of conscience. She 
 was in her six-and-thirtieth year when her seclusion at Castle 
 Rising commenced. The king her son generally, when in 
 England, visited her twice or thrice a year, and never permit- 
 ted any one to name her in his presence otherwise than with 
 resj^ect. 
 
 During the two first years of Isabella's residence at Castle 
 Rising, her seclusion appears most rigorous; but in 1332 she 
 assumed the garb of the Franciscan nuns, yet made no pro- 
 fession. She was soon after permitted to make a pilgrimage 
 to Walsingham, not far from her residence in Norfolk. She 
 died at Castle Rising, August 22, 1358, aged sixty-three. By 
 her will she chose the Church of the Grey Friars, where the 
 mangled remains of her paramour Mortimer had been buried 
 eight-and-twenty years previously, for the place of her inter- 
 ment, where a fine alabaster tomb was erected to her memory, 
 Avhich was destroyed at the Reformation. 
 
 She carried her characteristic hy]iocrisy even to the grave ; 
 she was buried with the heart of her murdered husband on 
 her breast. It was usual for persons buried in Grey Friars, 
 to be Avrapped in the garment of the order, as a security 
 against the attacks of the foul fiend. Queen Isabella was bur- 
 ied in that garment, and few stood more in need of such pro- 
 tection. 
 
 Isabella's virtuous daughter, Joanna, Queen of Scotland, the 
 faithful and devoted consort of the unfortunate David Bruce, 
 survived her mother only a few days, and was interred in the 
 Church of the Grey Fi-iars within Newgate. Some authors 
 assert that on the same day London witnessed the solemn 
 pageant of the entrance of the funeral procession of two queens 
 — one from the eastern, and the other from the northern road 
 — and that, entering the church by opposite doors, the royal 
 
1358.] 
 
 ISABELLA OF FRANCE. 
 
 123 
 
 biers met at the high altar. After the separation of tliirtv 
 years, the evil mother and the lioly daugliter were united in 
 the same burial rite. 
 
 Edward II. Drawn from his tomb at Gloucester. 
 
124 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Qiioou Philippa. From her tomb in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT, 
 
 QUEEN CONSOET OF EDWARD III. 
 
 There had been an early aifection formed between the son 
 of Edward II, and Philippa, the youngest daughter of the sov- 
 ei'eign Count of Hainault, at Valenciennes, when that young 
 prince and his mother took refuge at her father's court. The 
 young lover and his beloved lady, each in their fifteenth year, 
 were domesticated for a fortnight on terms of familiar friendship. 
 Young Edward knew the consent of his father, his council, 
 and Parliament had to be obtained ; and as he was a refu- 
 gee following a disgraced mother, he kept silence regarding his 
 preference, even to the object of it ; although her uncle, the 
 famous knight Sir John of Hainault, noticed it and observed to 
 
1327-1330.] PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT. 125 
 
 some of his English suite that their young master affected the 
 society of his niece, the Lady Philippa, more than that of any 
 of her sisters. When success followed the subsequent invasion 
 of England, and seven months afterward young Edward III. 
 was seated on the throne of his hapless father, his council 
 dispatched Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, to look for a 
 wife for their youthful monarch among the princesses at the 
 friendly court of Haiuault. The bishop demanded of the coun- 
 cil which of the five young ladies they chose to be Queen of 
 England. One of them answered, " We will have her with 
 finest form, I ween." 
 
 The bishop then surveyed them all very seriously, "and 
 chose Philippa, who was full feminine." No doubt Edward III. 
 and her uncle guided the bishop so that his choice fell on the 
 right lady. Philippa was married to Edwai-d HI. at Valencien- 
 nes by procuration, and then embarking at Wisant, she safely 
 landed at Dover with all her suite, Dec. 23, 1327, escorted 
 not by her father, as expected, but by her uncle, John of Hain- 
 ault. Great festivals celebrated her entry, but her young 
 warrior bridegroom was far away, leading his army against 
 the Scotch, and the f^iir bride had to set out on a wintry prog- 
 ress northward to find him. York minster was the place 
 where Edward and Philippa met, and were married there 
 January 24, 1327-8. The grandeur of the royal espousals was 
 heightened by a procession of the nobility of Scotland, who 
 came to conclude a lasting peace, fixed by the betrothal of the 
 young king's little sister, Joanna, with David (the heir of 
 King Robert Bruce), who was only seven years old. As the 
 royal hero Bruce died soon, it may be supposed the peace did 
 not last long. The young royal pair of England returned 
 southward to Woodstock. 
 
 Conquest wars and civil wars had left England too poor for 
 the young queen's coronation. It did not take place till 1330, 
 at Westminster Abbey. Robert de Vere claimed her bed, 
 her shoes, and three silver basins she had used on the occa- 
 sion, as his fees as grand chamberlain. The unworthy Isabella 
 yet reigned over England when Philippa gave birth to her 
 eldest son, the renowned Edward the Black Prince, at her 
 favoi'ite country palace of Woodstock. After the example 
 of Blanche of Castile, queen-regent of France, Philippa nour- 
 ished this infant hero at her own bosom. His great beauty, 
 the size and firmness of his limbs, and his precocious abilities 
 were remarked with pride by the English. 
 
 When the dower of Philippa catno to be settled, the coun-' 
 cil found that the usurping quecn-rogent Isabella had spent 
 
126 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [133G. 
 
 the young queen's portion of 40,000 crowns, and had withal 
 so well provided for herself that her son was left almost with- 
 out revenue. Such state of aifairs precipitated the revolution 
 that followed, when the queen-regent Isabella was hurled 
 from her usurped pre-eminence, and her guilty favorite Morti- 
 mer punished according to his deserts, though not by legal 
 trial. Tiie informality occasioned the restoration of his great 
 possessions to his brave son, in whose family the lineal title 
 to the English crown soon merged. 
 
 For the first three years of their marriage the extreme pov- 
 erty of the crown kept the king within the bounds of peace. 
 The young queen's native country was the most industrious 
 corner of Europe, which it clothed by the means of its manu- 
 foctures. Young as they were, both Philippa and Edward 
 had seen and noted from whence the great wealth of Hain- 
 ault and Flanders arose. Eleanora of Castile had introduced 
 the Spanish sheep to England, where they had thriven so 
 well, that the wool when exported from this country formed 
 the staple of the Flemish manufacture. Soon after, when she 
 lived in the north of England, during her king's Scotch cam- 
 paign, Philippa invested some capital in working the coal 
 mines in Tynedale. She may not have been the first person 
 who opened these sources of inestimable wealth to England, 
 but she is the first whose extant documents bear witness to 
 such facts. The communication between Northumberland 
 and her native country is easy, still more so it is with the 
 coast of Norfolk. It was to Norwich that she induced her 
 countryman, John Kempe, to emigrate with his children and 
 kinsfolk, and here she encouraged them to found those woolen 
 manufactories, still the wealth of Norwich, and for which her 
 name is at this hour gratefully remembered by the population 
 of the city. 
 
 The queen-consort of Edward III. was not suffered long to 
 cultivate her predilections for the blessed occupations of peace. 
 Her warlike lord made fierce war on Scotland, carrying it on 
 more inhumanly than did his mighty grandsire, Edward I. 
 Philippa followed her warrior king to the field, and Avas in 
 great danger when the Scots, retaliating, besieged her at 
 Bamborough Castle. Edward fiew from vk siege of Berwick 
 to her rescue, but disgraced his fair fixme afterward by putting 
 the two young sons of the Governor of Berwick to death, be- 
 cause the father would not surrender his charge. Pie gained 
 this warder town of Scotland afterward by storm, with horrid 
 waste of blood. It has pertained to England ever since. 
 Philippa added to the royal family in her norlhei-n campaign 
 
133G 1340] rniLirrA of iiainault. 127 
 
 liei" second son, William, who was born at Hatfield in York- 
 shire, 1336. 
 
 Now commenced the series of dire succession wars in France 
 between our royal Plantagenets and the French kings. The 
 law of the kingdom of France, called Salic, denied the sceptre 
 to female monarchs or to their descendants, permitting, how- 
 ever, the queen-mothers, consorts, or even sisters of their kings 
 to govern as regent sovereigns, in cases of exigence. More 
 than one, like Blanche of Castile, have done so with great suc- 
 cess. The Salic law Edward III. prepared to break by force 
 of invasion, claiming to be King of France as the nearest rep- 
 resentative of St. Louis, in right of his own very unsaintly 
 mother, queen-dowager Isabella, whom, notwithstanding, he 
 kept, in palace restraint, prisoner in Norfolk. Philip de Va- 
 lois, as the nearest male descendant of Louis IX., was recog- 
 nized as king by all the twelve peers of France, excepting Ed- 
 ward III,, who was Duke of Aquitaine, and the Count of 
 Hainault, his queen's father, whose territories comprised the 
 chief part of Holland and Belgium. He was the most wealthy 
 prince in Europe. He urged Edward to assert his ambitious 
 claim, providing him in 133G with money and arms, putting 
 him at the head of the German princes confederate against 
 France, helping him to be made vicar of the empire, and to be 
 nominated Emperor of Germany, only Edward III. Iiad the 
 good sense to decline the profitless honor. In the midst of all 
 these mighty movements the Count of Hainault died suddenly 
 of the gout. His warlike son-in-law was forced in consequence 
 to delay his French campaign until 1338 ; when Philippa, fol- 
 lowing him to his head-quarters at Antwerp or Ghent, kept 
 adding to the royal family princes renowned in history by 
 names derived from their birthplaces in the famous old cities 
 of the Low Countries, Edward and Philippa's third son, 
 Lionel, our present queen's lineal ancestor, was born at Ant- 
 werp, November 30, 1338. In due time he grew to be nearly 
 seven feet in height, and was stout in proportion. With this 
 infmt Hercules in her arms, the queen returned to England 
 in the autumn of 1339. She visited her prosperous colony of 
 artisans in Norwich, while her royal lord went to see his un- 
 happy mother, the prisoner at Castle Rising in Norfolk, The 
 royal family abode at Norwich from February till Easter, 1340, 
 when Edward HI, held a grand tournament with all his chivalry 
 in his queen's favored city. 
 
 Hitherto Edward's military successes had been limited to 
 imposing a tributary king on the unwilling Scotch, M'hile 
 the heir of the heroic Bruce, the young King David II., his 
 
128 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1340-1343. 
 
 brother-in-law, sought refuge in France. But the spring of 
 1340 was distinguished by the first great naval victory won 
 by an English fleet since the time of Alfred. Edward, who 
 commanded in person, annihilated the French naval forces oif 
 Blankenburg, on Midsummer Day, when Philippa gave birth 
 at Ghent to his fourth son, John of Gaunt, or Ghent, Duke of 
 Lancaster. Edward III. landed at Sluys the day after, impa- 
 tient to bring the news of the victory and to embrace her and 
 his infant. 
 
 The mother of Philippa at this period mediated a truce be- 
 tween Edward III. and Philip of Valois, to which the royal 
 hero of England unwillingly consented ; both belligerents were, 
 however, utterly penniless. Philippa had surrendered her 
 best crown and all her jewels for her royal husband to pawn 
 to the merchants of Ghent. He had likewise left his kinsman, 
 the valiant Henry Plantagenet, Earl of Derby, in pledge as 
 security for the repayment of his debts. In an utter state of 
 bankruptcy our king and Philii)pa stole away from Ghent at 
 midnight, December 2, 1343, and embarked in a little ship on 
 the wintry sea, with three nurses and two baby princes. After 
 great danger all landed safely on the Tower wharf, and took 
 possession of the unguarded fortress. And any enemy might 
 have done the same ; for our great Plantagenet found to his 
 intense wrath that his faithless castellan, de Beche, had deserted 
 his trust to visit his love in the city, and his garrison had de- 
 camped on similar errands. Philippa was obliged to exert all 
 her influence to avert from him the punishment her royal lord 
 meant to inflict with his own hand. At her entreaty, how- 
 ever, the life of de Beche was spared. 
 
 The desolating wars in Scotland and his great naval vic- 
 tory were until this period the chief fruits of Edward III.'s 
 warlike career. More deadly strife he knew lay before him, 
 and as a stimulus to the fiercer contest into which he meant to 
 plunge with his companions in arms, he mstituted the order 
 of the Garter. Chroniclers tell the romantic story that the 
 king's love for Catherine the Fair, Countess of Salisbury, caused 
 the institution. This lady was as good as she was beau- 
 tiful ; her husband had been taken prisoner by the King of 
 France, and was then confined in the Louvre. Edward III. 
 himself, by the motto he gave to the chivalric order, seemed 
 to express his scorn for all scandal in the words, Honi soil qui 
 'inalyjyense — " Shame be to him that evil thinks." Many ladies 
 were admitted to this high order, of whom Queen Philippa 
 was the chief, wearing the band, embroidered with the above 
 words in jewels, round the left arm, as the king and his knights 
 
1346.] PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT. 129 
 
 wore it beneath the left knee. Like her great ancestress Queen 
 Philippa, her present Majesty wears the jeweled motto and 
 band round her arm. 
 
 The first chapter of the order of the Garter was held at 
 Windsor, St. George's Day, 1343, 'after which the greatest 
 hurry of warlike preparations took place for nearly two years. 
 France and Scotland, closely allied, were equally urgent to re- 
 pel the attack. The Black Prince, then in the eighteenth year 
 of his age, made his first public appearance at Norwich, by 
 tilting at a grand tournament held at his mother's favorite city, 
 when she made a visit to hev proteges of the woolen factories 
 established there. The queen was appointed Regent of En- 
 gland when her king departed with their eldest son to invade 
 France, on St. John the Baptist's Day, 1346. 
 
 The victory of Cressy was gained August 24, 1346. Tlerc 
 the Black Prince, so called from his black armor, obtained the 
 crest of the ostrich feathers and the motto of Jch dien, the 
 spoils of the brave bhnd King of Bohemia, who fell fighting 
 for France ; they are still borne by the Prince of Wales. At 
 Cressy, with less than one-third, the English defeated 100,000 
 of the feudal militia of France, taking 30,000 prisoners. The 
 Black Prince received from his father's sword after the victory 
 knighthood as banneret, that is on a battle field where the 
 standard royal of the King of England is displayed. In the 
 course of a few days Calais was closely besieged by Edward 
 III. 
 
 It was now Queen Philippa's turn to do battle royal with a 
 king. Only one fortnight after the victory of Cressy, David, 
 King of Scotland, invaded England at the head of an army, 
 as a diversion in favor of his French ally. Philippa, as queen- 
 regent, advanced to Newcastle. After reviewing her army, 
 riding through the ranks on her white charger, she retired to 
 pray for its success in defending her kingdom. When a 
 bloody battle was fought, October 17, the King of Scotland, 
 David Bruce, was taken prisoner and his army destroyed. A 
 northern squire, John Copeland by name, took King David 
 after an heroic resistance. The queen sent for the royal pris- 
 oner. John Copeland said he would surrender his prisoner to 
 neither woman or child, only to his liege lord. By which 
 speech he alluded to the fact that Philippa had her young son 
 Lionel, eight years old, associated with her in her regency. 
 The queen wrote to her royal lord to ask what was to be done. 
 King Edward dispatched an epistle to John Copeland, bidding 
 him come to speak to him at Calais, which he was besieging. 
 John left his royal captive in a strong castle in Northumber- 
 
 F * 
 
130 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1347. 
 
 land, and hastened to Calais, Here the king received him 
 graciously, and gratefully gave him lands to the amount of 
 500Z. per annum, and requested him to deliver King David as 
 prisoner to the queen, and after knighthood and this reward 
 Sir John obeyed the king. Philippa ordered the King of 
 Scotland to be conducted through London, mounted on a tall 
 war-horse, that every one might know him ; and having lodged 
 him as prisoner in the Tower of London, the next day she 
 embarked to visit her royal husband at Calais, taking with her 
 a great number of ladies attending on her and on her eldest 
 daughter, the Princess Isabella, betrothed and about to be 
 married to her father's ally, the young Count of Flanders. 
 The arrival of the queen caused a stir of joyful festivals at the 
 siege of Calais — somewhat interrupted by the escape of the 
 ])rincely bridegroom, who ran away to the French king rather 
 than marry the English princess. 
 
 It is remarkable tliat the queen's imcle. Sir John of Hainault, 
 fought against her husband and family at this siege. He was 
 indeed tlie clearest example of his profession, which was that 
 of a mercenary soldier, hiring liimself out with his men-at-arms 
 to the highest bidder, and the King of France just then gave 
 the best wages. 
 
 Calais resisted all attempts at capture till thoroughly starved 
 out, Avhen it surrendered, on condition of giving up six of its 
 j^rincipal citizens with ropes round their necks, to endure the 
 vengeance of the conqueror. And King Edward, despite of 
 the entreaties of his heroic son and of the reproaches of Sir 
 Walter Mauny, had actually given orders for hanging his pris- 
 onors ; only Queen Philippa, then at her toilet, hearing an un- 
 common stir in the camp, inquired the cause, and was told by. 
 Sir Walter Mauny the king Avas ordering the deaths of the six 
 brave citizens of Calais, the mayor, Eustace St. Pierre, his 
 young son, and four of his relatives, who had voluntarily given 
 tliemselves up to save their fellow-townsmen from massacre 
 and plunder. Philippa was aware Edward would disgrace his 
 great fame by such wickedness ; and not pausing to arrange 
 her scattered tresses, or even resume her robes, she flew into 
 her husband's pavilion, and flinging herself on her knees before 
 him, begged, for the sake of herself and her children, born and 
 unborn, that the men of Calais might be given to her. The 
 great Edward murmured at the irresistible terms in which she 
 had couched her petition, for she was within a few weeks of 
 adding to her family, but ho gave her the prisoners. Though 
 imdaunted, the brave Calaisian hostages were half starved. 
 The generous queen had them bountifully fed, gave them gold 
 
1358.] PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT. 131 
 
 pieces, and restored to those of tliem who chose to remain in 
 Calais their houses and tenements, which had been given to 
 lier with their ])ersons. Soon after this incident, so honorable 
 to the Queen of England, she became the mother of a daughter 
 named Margaret, married afterward to a brave English earl. 
 
 The royal pair were at this time in the height of their pros- 
 perity. The queen's wise encouragement of the trade of Bris- 
 tol, the manufactures of Norwich, and the coal mines of New- 
 castle, aided to support the expenses of the French war. The 
 brilliant success of the English arms rendered the war popu- 
 lar with the people. The ladies imitated the warlike ardor 
 that prevailed, by introducing the armorial bearings of the 
 knights and nobles of their families on their dresses, in square 
 patches, with griffins, dolphins, and other heraldic monsters 
 on red, blue, black, or white in the front of their skirts, which 
 were narrow, with a long trahi behind. This had a very ugly 
 eifect. The queen was as wise and good as ever, but she 
 conformed to this barbarous fashion, which was very unbe- 
 coming to her after she grew fat. There is a bust of Philippa 
 in the triforium of Bristol Cathedral, representing her in her 
 youthful beauty, not more than about three-and-twenty years 
 old, the dress simply drawn up in folds round the neck, and 
 the hair falling in rich tresses from the regal circlet of leaves 
 and gems. Her forehead is noble and candid, her features 
 very regular and pretty, her expression indicative of sweet 
 temper and talent. 
 
 The great victory at Poictiers placed the Black Prince on 
 the very pinnacle of renown. His old adversary, Philip of 
 Valois, had died broken-hearted, and his son John, a prince of 
 more valor than ability, strove to redeem the ill fortune of 
 France. He was taken prisoner with his younger son, Philip 
 le Hardi. An immense number of noble prisoners, feudal 
 lords of France, were taken with their king, who displayed 
 the utmost heroism, but no generalship. In those days pris- 
 oners of war had to buy their liberty by money ransoms, and 
 this custom brought a little wealth back into impoverished 
 England. The Black Prince treated the King of France with 
 the utmost respect. At his entry into London the captive 
 king rode on his own white charger, indicative of empire, 
 while the prince was at his side on a black palfrey or pony. 
 The King and Queen of England entertained their prisoner as 
 a guest with grand banquets at the Tower and at Windsor, 
 where another captive king met John, his ally, David II. of 
 Scotland, who was restored to liberty 1358, at the entreaty of 
 his queen Joanna, Edward III.'s sister. 
 
132 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1362-13G8. 
 
 Queen Philippa's eldest son, Edward the Black Prince, 
 formed in early life an attachment to Joanna the Fair, the 
 only daughter of his unfortunate uncle, the Earl of Kent, wid- 
 ow of Lord Holland, and older than himself. He would mar- 
 ry no one else, and the queen, after long denial, consented at 
 last, most reluctantly, to the wedlock. The Princess of Wales 
 went with her mighty lord, 1362, to keep court at Bordeaux, 
 where they became the parents of two beautiful boys. The 
 most promising in character, Edward, died at seven years old ; 
 the youngest lived to be the unfortunate Richard H. Philip- 
 pa's eldest daughter married, 1365, the Lord de Coucy, who 
 remained in England faithfully attending on his unfortunate 
 master. King John of France. The queen's second daugh- 
 ter, Joanna, wedded Pedro the Cruel, King of Spain, the 
 wickedest man and worst husband in Europe. The beautiful 
 English princess died at Bayonne of the plague on her wed- 
 ding-day. Mai'garet married the Earl of Pembroke. Philip- 
 pa's second surviving son, Lionel, enriched himself by marry- 
 ing Elizabeth de Clare, the heiress of the Earls of Gloucester and 
 Ulster. The lady died very soon, leaving one little girl. Li- 
 onel, for whom his father had previously raised the titular 
 dukedom of Clarence from his wife's inheritance of Clare, de- 
 parted for Milan, taking with him a fine retinue, among whom 
 was Philippa's protege, the famous poet Chaucer. Lionel, 
 Duke of Clarence, married Violante, heiress of the Viscontis 
 Dukes of Milan, but he died a few weeks after his wedding, 
 1368. His sole representative was Lady Philippa, Countess 
 Clare, in whom was vested his reversionary rights to the En- 
 glish crown. Queen Philippa had adopted this litle one ; she 
 was at once her grandmother, godmother, and guardian. 
 The young Philippa was given in marriage to Edmund, Earl 
 of March, the eldest son of the traitor Roger Mortimer, but 
 one of Edward HL's greatest generals and bravest knights 
 of the Garter. 
 
 John of Gaunt, the next in military fame to the Black 
 Prince, married the heiress of Lancaster, and was in her right 
 Duke of Lancaster. They were parents of six children, and 
 we shall see their eldest son usurp the English throne under 
 the title of Henry IV. John of Gaunt made a second ambi- 
 tious marriage with Constance of Castile, heiress of Pedro the 
 Cruel ; his descendants are at present on the throne of Spain. 
 Edmund, Duke of York, Philippa's fifth surviving son, mar- 
 ried Isabel, the younger sister of Constance. Thomas, Duke 
 of Gloucester, the sixth son of Philippa, married the heiress of 
 the Earls of Hereford. This her youngest son was very much 
 
13(J9.] 
 
 PHILirrA OF IIAINAULT. 
 
 133 
 
 beloved and indulged by Queen Philippa, to which is attrib- 
 uted the arrogant and willful character which caused his niis- 
 tbrtunes. On the whole, Philippa was the mother of twelve 
 children, seven sons and five daughters. 
 
 The queen's health tailed seriously after hearing the tidings 
 of her son Lionel's decease in Italy, Her mortal malady was 
 dropsy. She was at Windsor Castle when King Edward was 
 summoned to her death-bed. Her youngest son Thomas was 
 present, Philippa especially commended him to his father's 
 care, and having received tlie king's promise to settle her af- 
 fairs, and to bury her in Westminster Abbey, and entreating 
 that when his death took place he would be buried near her, 
 she expired happily, Avith her hand in King Edward's, August 
 14, 1369. Her monument in the abbey is still in good ])res- 
 crvation ; her effigy lies at the feet of that of her renowned 
 lord. 
 
 Queen's College at Oxford was founded under lier patron- 
 age and protection, by her chaplain, Robert de Eglestield. 
 Philippa was infinitely beloved, and her husband's subjects 
 regretted her still rciore when they experienced the disgrace 
 .and contempt into Avhich Edward HI. fell in his old age, ow- 
 ing to his dotage on his worthless and wicked mistress, Alice 
 Pcrrers of despicable memory. 
 
 Great Seal of Edward III. 
 
134 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Richard ir. From a painting ia the Old Jerusalem Chamber in the Palace at Westminster. 
 
 ANNE OF BOHEMIA, 
 
 FIRST QUEEN CONSORT OF RICHARD 11. 
 
 Anne of Bohemia was the daughter of Queen Philippa's 
 niece, the Empress EHzabeth, and Charles IV., Emperor of 
 Germany and King of Bohemia. Anne was born at Prague 
 in 1367. She was betrothed to the young King of England 
 in 1380, just before the death of the emperor, her father. 
 The Duchess of Saxony, aunt to the Princess Anne, and heir- 
 ess of Hainault, resided with her husband at Brussels ; she re- 
 ceived the bride of England kindly on her journey to the 
 unknown realm of England ; for it is plainly to be seen in the 
 correspondence that geography formed no part of imperial ac- 
 
i;;8U-1382.] ANNE OF BOHEMIA. I35 
 
 coraplishmeiits ; such was the case until the Duke and Duchess 
 of Saxony gave satisfactory information at Prague of the im- 
 portance of our country. 
 
 Richard II. was the sole surviving offspring of tlie Black 
 Prince and Joanna of Kent. As the Black Prince died before 
 his father, some cabals liad been made against the succession 
 of his young son, as contrary to English customs ; but tlie 
 people, devoted to the memory of the brave father, overbore 
 all opposition of the boy's ambitious uncles. Richard was 
 born in the luxurious south ; his first accents were in the po- 
 etical language of Provence. His mother and half-brothers, 
 her sons by Lord Holland, gave him unconstitutional ideas of 
 his own infallibility. After his accession, Richard had at the 
 rebellion of Wat Tyler acted in his tender years with great 
 firmness and valor, which gave hopes that he would one day 
 equal the renown of his father ; while the beauty of his person 
 and his great taste for music and song made him very attract- 
 ive in his own court. Unfortunately, as England was utter- 
 ly exhausted after half a century of war, it was scarcely pos- 
 sible to raise taxes for the purposes of government. This was 
 the origin of the terrible rebellion. 
 
 The queen brought not any portion, and her journey cost 
 considerable sums. Anne, who had traveled from Brussels to 
 Calais in great danger, embarked on a stormy sea, December 
 3, 1381. Directly she landed at Dover, the vessel she came 
 in Avas dashed to pieces before her face by the violence of the 
 ground swell. After three days' rest at Dover Castle, Thom- 
 as, Duke of Gloucester, the king's uncle, came with great pomp 
 to escort her from Canterbtny. At her London entry the 
 Goldsmith's company threw gilt-silver florins beneath her 
 palfrey's feet, and gold leaf was blown into the air. The 
 marriage did not take place until January 14, 1381-2, and then 
 not publicly, as the king and queen were married at St. Ste- 
 phen's, the private chapel at Westminster Palace. They retired 
 to Windsor Castle while the preparations for the queen's cor- 
 onation took place. Owing to the extreme poverty of the ex- 
 chequer, nothing could be done until the coronal of the duke- 
 dom of Aqnitaine and all its regalia, richly floriated with 
 jewels, Avei'e pawned. Anne's coronation was then solemnized 
 in Westminster Abbey. Something remarkable occurred when 
 the pardon of rebels was announced. The young queen, on 
 liearing a terrible list of exceptions, threw herself upon her 
 knees, and made such piteous intercession, that the king re- 
 mitted the bloody executions that were to take place; and as 
 they were chiefly from among 'the people, the people never 
 
136 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1384. 
 
 forgot hev kindness, giving her the name ever after of Good 
 Queen Anne. 
 
 The imperial rank of the queen caused her attire to be 
 rauch noticed and imitated, and great alterations in dress took 
 place, dating from her coronation. The ugly fashion of the 
 horned caps, which she introduced, prevailed for many years. 
 This mode can be compared to nothing better than a cow's 
 horns of great width and height, with a veil two feet square, 
 and deeply depressed in the centre, hung over them. Speci- 
 mens are still to be seen on the sepulchral brasses of the four- 
 teenth century, Anne of Bohemia introduced pins, such as 
 ladies dress with at the present day; likewise the convenient 
 fashion of side-saddles — previously ladies rode on pillions be- 
 hind equerries. All ladies in those days adopted a device; 
 Queen Anne's was an ostrich (to symbolize Austria) with a bit 
 of iron in his mouth. 
 
 To AjHie of Bohemia is ascribed the honor of being the first 
 Queen of England who introduced the Scripture into England 
 translated from the Latin. She was the patroness of the Ref- 
 ormation, and protected Wycklift'e, its earliest mover in En- 
 gland; it is supposed that she had imbibed the principles of 
 her countryman John Huss. In her Protestant predilections 
 her husband's mother, Joanna, Princess of Wales, sympathized 
 with her, and together they swayed the ductile mind of Rich- 
 ard II. in favor of reformation — one of the causes of his un- 
 popularity. His favorite uncle, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lan- 
 caster, was the friend of WycklifFe; to him and the queen that 
 proto-reformer owed his life. Unfortunately Anne was led 
 into an act of injustice. She agitated divorce between the 
 king's favorite, de Vere, Earl of Oxford, and his lawful wife, 
 the grand-daughter of Edward III., that he might be free to 
 marry her first lady, a German favorite of her own ; and when 
 the Pope refused to break the bonds of matrimony, she applied 
 to the anti-pope, for at this time public morality was compro- 
 mised by rival pontiifs — what one would not do out of princi- 
 ple the other did from expediency. It appears that the queen 
 supported Oxford in putting her German woman in the place 
 of his rightful spouse. 
 
 The queen was involved in trouble owing to the expenses 
 of her journey from Prague, The parliament refused to sanc- 
 tion them, and Sir Simon Burley, the friend of the Black 
 Prince, who had been sent to escort her to England, and had 
 won her friendship, Avas pursued by the malice of the party 
 headed by the king's cousin, Henry of Bolingbroke, son of the 
 Duke of Lancaster, by the turbulent Thomas, Duke of Glou- 
 
1389^131)2.] ANNE OF BOHEMIA. 137 
 
 cester, the king's youngest uncle, and the Earl of Arundel. The 
 queen was hours on her knees praying for the life of Burley, 
 but was answered, "Pray for yourself and your husband, for 
 this request is useless ;" and the judicial murder was committed. 
 The poverty of the government preventing war made the no- 
 bles discontented, because they could not be ever plundering 
 France, while universal distress prevailed at home from the im- 
 position of the property tax. Such were the real causes of the 
 troubles of Richard II. and his realm. At this period he could 
 not have committed any errors in government, for he had not 
 been permitted to issue out of his minority until 1389, when 
 he declared himself of age. He then took the reins of govern- 
 ment into his own hands, but was much afflicted on learning 
 the death of his unfortunate favorite de Vere, to whom he 
 had given the absurd title of Duke of Ireland, and made vice- 
 roy of that realm. The only ill action the queen had ever 
 committed did not prosper, for the lawful wife of de Vere was 
 recognized as his dowager, and the queen's German lady look- 
 ed upon as an intruder or worse. 
 
 Against the queen's advice Richard II. began to govern ar- 
 bitrarily in 1390. He deprived the city of London of her 
 charter for tearing to pieces the foreign lender of a loan the 
 king negotiated on cheaper terras than the citizens would af- 
 ford. Anne was now her husband's bosom counselor. She 
 had learned wisdom by her first and only mistake, and very 
 cleverly did she negotiate between the citizens and the king. 
 At last he was inclined to be placable, on the hint given that 
 rich presents were to be made to propitiate him in grand city 
 pageants, if he would condescend to make progress through 
 London. 
 
 So the royal pair set out from their favorite palace of Shene 
 (now Richmond) in two separate equestrian processions ; the 
 king's took the lead, and the queen's followed. She rode on 
 her palfrey, but two charrettes or benched wagons, painted 
 red, brought up the rear, full of her ladies of honor. The queen 
 assumed her rich crown blazing with jewels at the South wark 
 Bridge Tower, and crossed London Bridge to the great delight 
 of the assembled crowds. She passed safely over the bridge 
 guarded by her equerries and master of the horse, but one of 
 the red wagons was overturned by the pressui-e of the crowds 
 going and coming, and all the ladies would have been killed 
 only their horned caps saved their heads ; no lives were lost, 
 but their caps and dresses were much discomposed. 
 
 Over the conduit at Cheapside semblances of angels were 
 perched. These flew down and presented the king and queen 
 
138 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [J 394. 
 
 each with a rich golden circlet, and they were entreated to 
 taste the red wine the corporation had provided, flowing out 
 of the conduit for the populace. They were served in golden 
 cups, out of which the king and queen drank "Peace to the 
 City ;" and the queen was given a beautiful white pony by the 
 lord-mayor, in the name of the city. She was also presented 
 with golden tablets, illustrative of the life of St. Anne, at the 
 Temple station, and here the lord-mayor Venner ventured to 
 remind the queen of her promised mediation. She replied, 
 significantly, "Leave all to me." Accordingly when she ar- 
 rived at Westminster Hall, and found the king had already as- 
 cended his throne prepared on the king's bench, liis queen 
 knelt before him supplicating. "What would Anna?" asked 
 King Richard, in the tenderest accents. "Declare your wish, 
 and it is granted!" "Sweet king!" she replied, "my spouse, 
 my light, my love, without whose life, mine would be but 
 death, be pleased to govern your citizens as gracious lord ! 
 Consider to-day Avhat Avorship, what honor, what splendid 
 public duty have they paid ! Far from thy memory, my king, 
 be their ofi:enses. For them I supplicate thus lowly on the 
 ground, that it would please thee to restore to these penitent 
 plebeians their ancient charters and liberties." 
 
 "Ascend, Anna, and sit by me," replied King Richard, 
 " while I speak a few words unto my people." He seated the 
 gentle queen beside him on his throne, and then addressed 
 the lord-mayor Venner : " I restore you my royal favor as in. 
 the olden time, for I duly prize the presents you have made — 
 and the queen's intercession. Take back the key and sword, 
 and henceforth keep my peace in the city." 
 
 There is some majesty in this scene, which is from the Latin 
 chronicle of Dr. Maydston, one of the queen's priests, who 
 witnessed all said and done that day, dated by him, August 
 29, 1392. 
 
 An interval of public tranquillity, unusual in the stormy 
 reign of Richard IL, followed. Unfortunately, the country 
 was deprived of her peace-making queen very suddenly, just 
 as the king was preparing to depart for Ireland, then in re- 
 volt. Anne of Bohemia died at her favorite palace of Shene, 
 on Whit Sunday, 1394, of the pestilence then prevalent in Eu- 
 rope. The grief of Richard n. resembled frenzy. He called 
 down imprecations on the place of her death, and had the 
 apartments she died in leveled to the ground. He erected a 
 tomb for himself as well as for her in Westminster Abbey, 
 where she was buried. His own monumental statue he had 
 cast in bronze and placed by hers, with their hands locked in 
 
13'Jt.] 
 
 ANNE OF BOHEMIA. 
 
 139 
 
 each other: this monument was commenced in 1395 and finish- 
 ed in his reign. It is still to be seen in Westminster Abbey, 
 and is well worthy the attention of our young readers. The 
 Latin epitaph, which is beautiful in its affectionate simplicity, 
 is said to be written by Richard II. himself, wlio, though an 
 unfortunate king, was learned and had refined taste. His be- 
 loved queen brought him no offspring. 
 
 Gruat of lUchard II. 
 
140 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Female Costume, time of Richard II. 
 
 ISABELLA OF VALOIS, 
 
 STJENAMED THE LITTLE QUEEN, 
 
 SECOND CONSOET OF RICHARD II. 
 
 Richard IL, whose principal fault was preferring the indul- 
 gence of his private feelings to the public good, could not find 
 it in his heart to give his loved queen a successor of his own 
 age, although the failure of heirs made his reign unquiet. 
 He espoused a young gii-1, thinking that by the time she grew 
 up his regret for his lost wife might have subsided. The j^rin- 
 cess whose hand he demanded was Isabella of Valois, the eld- 
 est daughter of Charles VI., King of France, and Isabeau of 
 Bavaria, born at the Louvre, 1387, consequently, in 1395 she 
 was but eight years old. The reahns of England and France 
 were still nominally at war. Richard II. was very anxious 
 for peace, so was the King of France. Unfortunately, peace 
 was very unpopular with the feudal nobles of England, who had 
 been accustomed to carry on predatory warfare for more than 
 half a centuiy. The king's uncle, Thomas, Duke of Glouces- 
 ter, violently opposed both the peace and the French marriage. 
 
 The little pi'incess amused the court of France by the pret- 
 ty gravity she assumed when practicing the part of a queen, 
 and the readiness of her reply to the English ambassador, who 
 
1395.] ISABELLA OF VALOIS. 141 
 
 officially demanded her consent to be Richard II.'s consort: 
 " that she willingly consented, because she had heard that, if 
 Queen of England, she should be a very great lady." 
 
 King Richard promised that if a peace could be agreed upon, 
 he would come to Calais and espouse young Isabella, receiv- 
 ing her there from the liand of her father. Such stormy con- 
 tradiction occurred in the English council of state to both prop- 
 ositions, that King Richard was forced to buy oiF the opposi- 
 tion with large sums from his impoverished exchequer. His 
 uncle, Gloucester, who was at the head of it, withdrew his de- 
 nial for a bribe of 50,000 nobles, and a pension to his son, 
 Humphrey, of 2000 per annum. All the terms were then 
 unanimously agreed upon ; the difficult point of the sun-ender 
 of Calais, which had hitherto stood in the way of peace, was 
 settled by the peace being called a truce of forty years. The 
 negotiators were entirely aware that the English and French 
 would quarrel again before that term had elapsed, which pro- 
 diction proved true, and thus did France escape the disgrace 
 of formally surrendering Calais to England. Richard II. early 
 in October crossed the seas with his court, and remained at 
 Calais until all was agreed upon. Charles VI., with his queen 
 and the young Isabella, who had been espoused by Richard's 
 kinsman, the Earl-Marshal, as proxy, advanced from St. Omers, 
 where they had waited for the peace. The Kings of England 
 and France met on friendly terms at the camp near Calais, Oc- 
 tober 27,1395. 
 
 After a sumptuousbanquetthe young bride entered the tent 
 of Richard II. with her attendants, and was solemnly given 
 to him by Charles VI. The King of England immediately 
 rose and took leave with an appropriate speech, for he spoke 
 French exceedingly well, as all the French nobles present al- 
 lowed, and no marvel, for Richard Plantagenet of Bordeaux 
 was French by birth, and his first accents had been in that lan- 
 guage. The young queen was put into a very grand litter, 
 and being surrounded by all her English ladies of the house- 
 hold, departed to the adjacent town of Calais, escorted by 
 Richard II., his court and army. 
 
 All Saints' Day, November 1st, was appointed for the wed- 
 ding ; and at Calais, in the Church of St. Nicholas, Richard II. 
 was married to Isabella of Valois by the Archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, at which time he solemnly renounced all claim, by the 
 right of his queen or his descendants by her, to the crown of 
 France, a fatal clause for his popularity with his nobles and peo- 
 ple in general, who had not the sagacity to foresee the dread- 
 ful effiscts of ])erpetual war to both countries. The third day 
 
142 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1396-1398. 
 
 after the marriage the royal party embarked at Calais for En- 
 gland ; a favorable wind carried them over in three hours. 
 The young queen dined at Dover Castle, and slept at Roch- 
 ester Castle. Next day she arrived at Elthara Palace, then a 
 very favorite sojourn of English royalty. Her grand entry 
 into London was through South wark Bridge Tower, a pass so 
 narrow that nine pei'sons were crushed to death in their im- 
 portunate efforts to look upon their king's little queen. It was, 
 however, generally agreed upon by the oldest persons, that 
 so tall and blooming and self-possessed was the young queen, 
 that she might have passed very well for twelve years old. 
 The portion of Isabella was 800,000 francs, her jewels amount- 
 ed to equal value. Gowns figured all over with trees having 
 pearl branches, with goodly birds and fowls in gems of many 
 colors sitting thereon, were displayed to the wondering eyes of 
 her English ladies, while her crowns, belts, and clasps of jewels 
 amounted to 500,000 crowns. All these jewels were by treaty 
 to be returned, if King Richard died before her education was 
 finished, when she would be fifteen. Until then she lived pri- 
 vately at Windsor Castle, where her studies went on, and 
 Richard only paid her occasional short visits. 
 
 Meantime the king's turbulent uncle, Gloucester, made no 
 scruple at avowing to all the nobles discontented at the pacific 
 period, from 1.396 to 1.398, that a King of England not engaged 
 in war with France was too cowardly to retain his dignity, 
 and he proposed incarcerating Richard in one fortress, and 
 the " daughter of the adversary" — so he styled the King of 
 France — in another. Richard discussed this intention with 
 his loyal friend and kinsman, Roger Mortimer, who had by 
 Parliament been declared heir presumptive to the throne, in 
 case the king had no childi'en, as representative of his grandsire, 
 Lionel, Duke of Clarence. Mortimer and the king's fiivorite 
 uncle, the Duke of York, comforted Richard by assuring him 
 that these speeches were the mere ebullitions of Gloucester's 
 violent temper, as every one allowed that he was the most ill- 
 behaved knight in Christendom. But when the king's specious 
 kinsman, Henry of Bolingbroke, eldest son of the Duke of 
 Lancaster, began to conspire with their uncle, Gloucester, 
 affiiirs grew darker. Civil war was for a time averted by the 
 illegal murder of the Duke of Gloucester, whom the king seized 
 by treachery and put secretly to death at Calais ; and by the 
 irregular execution of the Earl of Arundel, an ally of Glouces- 
 ter. But Richard lost the support of his own worthiest sup- 
 porters by these acts, so adverse to the principles of the En- 
 glish. Plis inimical cousin, Bolingbroke, became the darling of 
 
1398.] ISABELLA OF VALOIS. 143 
 
 the people ; but him he banished on challenging Thomas Mow- 
 bray, Duke of Norfolk, to single combat, on the accusation 
 that he was the murderer of Gloucester at Calais. Richard, 
 just as the duel was to begin at Coventry, stopped it, and 
 banished both the combatants, Bolingbroke for seven years, 
 Norfolk for life, on the plea that the peace of his kingdom 
 would be better preserved if both were absent. However, 
 such sentences were not according to the constitution of En- 
 gland, which the king soon learned to his cost. So closed 
 December, 1398. News came about the same time that his 
 heir and friend, Roger Mortimer, having made a campaign 
 to quell an insurrection in Ireland, had been killed by the 
 treachery of the natives, and that Ireland was likely to be 
 lost to the English. King Richard had already made a cam- 
 paign in Ireland, and partly by arms, and partly by the jus- 
 tice of his government, kept it in good order for years. He 
 therefore resolved on an expedition thither, but his uncle, 
 John of Gaunt, dying at the time, he seized on the inherit- 
 ance of Lancaster from his banished cousin, Henry of Boling- 
 broke, which wrong made the injured party a hero in the eyes 
 of the people. 
 
 The king, before he departed for Ireland, paid a visit to 
 Windsor Castle, where he had left his young consort under 
 the tuition of the Lady de Coucy, his own first cousin. He 
 arrived the 1st of May, 1399, and found Isabella grown and 
 improved in all natural and acquired graces, and rapidly as- 
 suming, although but in her thirteenth year, the appearance 
 of a beautiful young woman. She was much attached to him; 
 his visits always caused pleasant festivals for her; his taste 
 for music and poetry, his power of conversing with her in 
 her native language, and his general attention and tenderness, 
 won her young* heart. The king found occasion to dismiss 
 her lady governess for pride and extravagance, and put in 
 her place the widow of Roger Mortimer, who was mother of 
 a young son, Edmund Mortimer, heir presumptive to En- 
 gland. After Richard had attended service at Windsor church 
 with the young queen, he bade her firewell in the church- 
 yard. Raising her in his arras, he kissed her, saying, " Adieu, 
 Madame! adieu, until we meet again." Isabella was over- 
 whelmed with grief at his departure, over which she mourned 
 so long that illness ensued. 
 
 Henry, the disinherited Duke of Lancaster, while King Rich- 
 ard was settling his Irish sovereignty, invaded England with 
 a small force from Bretagne, where he had been passing his 
 exile. Landing at Burlington on Ravenspur, a small promon- 
 
144 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1399. 
 
 tory now destroyed by the waves, he declared he came for his 
 fother's rights and dignities, illegally reft from him by the 
 king. England rose in his favor, at least an overpowering 
 number did ; the London militia marched with him to Wales, 
 where Richard had just landed after settling Ireland with that 
 justice and valor which, if it had been exerted in England, 
 would have made him rank as her best king instead of her 
 worst. He was made prisoner in Flint Castle with his coun- 
 cil, and conducted to London ignominiously by his usurping 
 cousin. Still he had friends ; he had treated Wales with kind- 
 ness and justice. One of the distinguished Welsh chiefs, Owen 
 Glendower, had had a command in Richard's guard of honor, 
 and was devotedly attached to his king ; he pursued the in- 
 sulting rabble, that surrounded him, with some of his Welsh- 
 men, and at Lichfield nearly succeeded in rescuing his beloved 
 king from Henry of Lancaster, 
 
 Richard H. was enclosed in the Tower of London, where, 
 during his imprisonment, his abdication took place ; his rival 
 being forthwith proclaimed as Henry IV. During the stormy 
 scenes that preceded these changes, Richard II, repeatedly 
 demanded the restoration of his young queen, but it was no 
 part of Henry's policy to permit them to meet. 
 
 Isabella had been jDlaced in his power simvaltaneously with 
 her husband, for the Duke of York, who had been left regent 
 of the kingdom, had surrendered the royal castles of Windsor 
 and Wallingford when Richard became prisoner. When Hen- 
 ry was crowned in October, 1399, at Westminster, she was re- 
 moved to Sunninghill, and sedulously kept in ignorance of 
 current events. The peace of Henry's reign only lasted six 
 weeks. A plot was formed by the sons of the king's late moth- 
 er, the Earls of Kent and Huntingdon, for killing him at Wi".<^- 
 sor. They implicated one of the young queen's servants in it. 
 Isabella heard at Sunninghill that " her husband was on the 
 march to meet her at the head of 100,000 men." She received 
 his half-brothers with transports of joy, and was ready to go 
 with them anywhere to meet King Richard, having all the 
 badges of the usurper, worn by her servants, exchanged for 
 his. Her joy was soon at an end. After some skirmish 
 fighting at Cirencester, her monarch's partisans were over- 
 powered and executed, and she was seized and carried to Hav- 
 ering at the Bower, in Essex, where she remained closely 
 guarded until the death of the unfortunate Richard gave secu- 
 rity to his rival. 
 
 At the first outbreak of the msurrection Richard had been 
 put on board a small ship of war, carried down the Thames 
 
14U0-U02.] ISABELLA OF VALOIS. . 146 
 
 • 
 to the coast of Yorkshire, and hurried to the strong castle of 
 Pontefract. The intention of his crafty rival was to destroy 
 him slowly by poison ; but Richard would eat nothing unless 
 the food were tasted, as pertaining to his royal rank. The 
 usurper, one day at the commencement of the year 1400, tes- 
 tifying impatience at the existence of his rival, one of his mur- 
 derous partisans, Sir Piers Exton, gentleman of his bed-cham- 
 ber, departed with seven battle-axe men, and being admitted to 
 Richard's prison-room, attacked him as he was sitting down 
 to meat. The deposed king, although unarmed, wrenched from 
 one of his assassins a battle-axe, and defended himself with such 
 desperate valor that four of his assailants were killed. lie 
 was felled while chasing the rest, by a cowardly blow on the 
 head from the hand of Sir Piers Exton, who took the advan- 
 tage of standing on the chair from which Richard had risen. 
 The murderers brought the body of their victim to London, 
 where it was borne in procession to St. Paul's, barefiiced, on a 
 bier, the head resting on a black cushion, a few knights in 
 mourning attending it. After lying at St. Paul's for a day or 
 two, that all might recognize his well-known person, Richard's 
 burial took place privately at Langley, Hertfordshire, Febru- 
 ary, 1400. Thus was young Isabella left a widow in her thir- 
 teenth year ; but the death of her royal lord was concealed 
 from her, until the inquiries of the King of France, and his de- 
 mands for her restoration with her dower and jewels, made the 
 wily politician on the English throne seek her hand in mar- 
 riage for his son Henry, Prince of Wales, who was in love with 
 her. Isabella was then informed that her husband was dead, 
 though the manner of it was concealed from her. She refused 
 all alliance with the fomily of Richard's enemy, and joined her 
 entreaties with that of her own royal family to be sent home. 
 The whole of the year 1400 was consumed in fruitless negoti- 
 ation respecting her marriage with the Prince of Wales. As 
 to the required restoration of her portion and jewels, Henry 
 IV. shamelessly answered, " that her fortune had been spent 
 by Richard II., and her jewels divided among his own six 
 children ; and as to the dower, or widow's revenue, Isabella 
 having been too young for a wife, it could not be paid." He 
 promised the return of the jewels when his young princes 
 and piincesses were disposed to give them up ; but this they 
 all refused to do. 
 
 Finally, the young widow of the deposed and murdered 
 Richard II. was sent back to her father in Franco, utterly be- 
 reft of all her property. It was July 20, 1402, when Sir Thom- 
 as Percy (afterward Earl of Worcester) delivered the young 
 
 G 
 
146 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1410. 
 
 queen, in the deep weeds of widow- 
 liood, to the Count de St. Pol, at Leu- 
 linghen, a small town near Boulogne; 
 he and all her ladies took leave of 
 her with streaming eyes, so much had 
 her virtues and sweet manners en- 
 deared her to them. Isabella was re- 
 ceived by her father's subjects with 
 the utmost love and sympathy ; lier 
 wrongs and destitution sharpened the 
 enmity between France and England. 
 Her hand was, in 1406, Avhen she en- 
 tered her nineteenth year, given to 
 her cousin, Charles of Orleans, who 
 was younger than herself, but the 
 most accomplished of his race. A 
 very happy Avedlock Avas early brought 
 to conclusion by Isabella's death in 
 childbed, at the Castle of Blois, Sep- 
 tember 13, 1410. The Duke of Or- 
 leans's grief amounted to frenzy, but 
 after her infant daughter was brought 
 to him, he shed tears and became 
 calmer while caressing it. He mourn- 
 ed Isabella's untimely death in elegies 
 so beautiful, that they are still remem- 
 bered in France, for he was the best 
 poet of his era. Isabella was at first 
 buried at Blois, and afterward re- 
 moved to the Church of the Celes- 
 tines, in Paris. 
 
 Armor of the period. 
 
JOANNA OF NAVARRE. 
 
 147 
 
 Henry IV. and his queen, Joanna of Navarre. From their monument at Canterbuiy. 
 
 JOANNA OF NAVARRE, 
 
 SURNAMED THE WITCH QUEEN, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF HENRY IV. 
 
 The crimes, real or imaginary, of Charles the Bad, greatly 
 injured the prospects of his numerous family, of whom Joanna 
 was the second daughter, by his queen Jane of France. Jo- 
 amia was born about 1364, soon after her unfortunate grandsire, 
 King John, expired in captivity at London. Charles le Man- 
 vais, although grandson to Louis X., King of France, and Jane, 
 queen-regnant of Navarre, was miserably poor. Pie had 
 claimed the barren but warlike kingdom of Navarre as liis 
 mother's inheritance, and it was yielded to him by his uncle, 
 Charles le Bel. The inexorable Salic laAV prevented him, on 
 the deaths of two royal uncles childless, from being King of 
 France, but he was enraged that Edward III., only the son of 
 his aunt, should claim the crown of France, and nearly win it 
 too, despite of the law that forbade the descendants of a fe- 
 male, no less than a female, to inherit the crown of France. 
 Charles had certainly a better claim, as the grandson of the 
 elder brother of Isabella of France, than her son. Charles 
 bore the reputation of a sorcerer, truly terrific to his contem- 
 poraries, and if the word is confined to its real meaning, as 
 
148 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1381-1-iOO. 
 
 concoctei' of poisons, it was true enough. It was believed 
 that he was skilled in every other kind of mischievous black 
 art — remembrances which were subsequently revived to his 
 daughter's injury. 
 
 Jo.mna was beautiful, but glad to accept the h.ind of the old 
 warrior, John the Valiant, Duke of Bretagne, although he was 
 widower of two spouses, and was very fierce and irritable, and 
 older than her fother. From the year 1381 she and her broth- 
 ers and sister were state prisoners at Paris, as hostages for 
 their father. When that trouble was over, and Charles the 
 Bad was at his capital, Pampeluna, Joanna was betrothed 
 there to her aged suitor in the summer of 1386, and Septem- 
 ber 11 she was wedded to him, before his whole court, at 
 Saille, near Guerand, her father promising her a dowry of 
 200,000 gold livres, Avhich he never paid. Nevertheless the 
 young duchess won the heart of her old spouse entirely, and 
 contrived to save the lives of several nobles from his fury — as 
 the gallant Clisson, Constable of France, whom he had treach- 
 erously resolved to murder. Her father, Charles the Bad, 
 died soon after her wedlock, and Joanna for some years lived 
 mngnificently and prosperously; she brought Duke John the 
 Valiant not only an heir to his duchy, but eight other beauti- 
 ful children. Sometimes she was molested with his jealousy, 
 yet she usually steered her way cleverly through all dangers. 
 
 John, Duke of Bretagne, was becoming very aged, while 
 Joanna his spouse was in her bloom, and his little princes and 
 ]irincesses were yet tender children, when the son of his old 
 friend and companion-in-arms, Henry of Lancaster, exiled by 
 liichard II., came to claim his hospitality. John of Gaunt had 
 died of sorrow, and Richard II. had deprived his absent kins- 
 man of his inheritance as Duke of Lancaster. John of Bretagne 
 took the part of the expatriated heir of Lancaster, inasmuch 
 that he gave him succor to invade England, ajid to establish 
 himself as previously detailed. Whether this favor was owing 
 to the influence of his duchess Joanna, that lady was too cau- 
 tious to let any one surmise. 
 
 The Duke of Bretagne died of the infirmities of old age, 
 November 1, 1399. Joanna nursed him with patience and 
 tenderness. She was left very rich, and with the wardship of 
 her children and of the duchy — indeed, more than, with the 
 })lans she had in view, was quite convenient to her. She cau- 
 tiously watched the proceedings of her late guest, now Henry 
 IV., King of England, while he struggled througliout the first 
 year of the century, marked by the regicide committed by him, 
 February, 1400. Joanna, next year, convinced of his success, 
 
.1402.] JOANNA OF NAVARRE. I49 
 
 • publicly accepted the hand of the royal widower, and, to tlie 
 consternatioa of the French, prepared to depart for England, 
 previously declaring her young sovereign, Duke of Bretagne, 
 of age at twelve years ; fortunately only to choose his own 
 guardian, which choice fell on the Duke of Burgundy, one of 
 the regents of France. The duke took the government of 
 Bretagne ; departed for Paris with Joanna's sons, Arthur and 
 Jules, riding behind each other on one horse. The Duke of 
 Burgundy tried to prevent Joanna from Avedding the usurping 
 King of England, but in A^ain — all her political biases were 
 French ; and before she sailed to her betrothed, she gave every 
 preponderance of her influence in Bretagne to her bridegroom's 
 greatest enemies in France — proceedings noticed and never 
 forgiven by the English, as hatred grew hotter between both 
 countries. Joanna had long assumed the title of Queen of 
 England Avhen she embarked, after parting Avith her boys at 
 Camaret, December 12, taking Avith her over the Avintry seas 
 her two little princesses, Blanch and Margaret, the eldest only 
 three years old, Avith such a train of Breton and Navarrese 
 attendants on herself and babes as utterly exasperated the 
 English. Furious quarrels between the ambassador of Henry 
 IV., Thomas Percy, and her illegitimate brother, Charles of 
 Navarre, diversified the terrors of her voyage. Danger of 
 death drove her ships into Falmouth, after five days and nights 
 of stormy Aveather. They traveled by land to Winchester, 
 Here Henry IV. and his court awaited her, and at the Church 
 of St. S within she Avas united to the King of England. Her 
 entry into London, and coronation at Westminster Abbey, 
 January 26, 1402-3, Avere truly magnificent, and marvelous 
 tournaments closed the nuptial festivities, Avhen the bride sat 
 in the pavilion gallery, showing her beauty to all people. 
 
 In the pictures of her coronation she is represented as a 
 very majestic woman, in the meridian glory of her days, Avith 
 a form of the most symmetrical proportions, and a counte- 
 nance of equal beauty. Her attitude is that of easy dignity. 
 Her dalmatica differs little in fashion from that Avorn by Queen 
 Victoria at her inauguration. It partially displays her throat 
 and bust, and is closed at the breast Avith a rich cordon and 
 tassels. The mantle has apertures through Avhich her arms 
 are seen ; they are bare and very fairly moulded. Her hair falls 
 in rich curls on her bosom. 
 
 She Avas the first Avidow ever married by a King of England ; 
 her age was tliirty-three, and her personal charms unimpaired. 
 Her royal husband next year confirmed Arthur, her second 
 son, as Earl of Richmond and an English peer. The title of 
 
150 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1413. 
 
 Earl of Richmond had been conferred by William the Con- 
 queror on his son-in-law the Duke of Bretagne, and always 
 borne by the princes of that family. He sent for his infant sis- 
 ters. Joanna refused to give them up for four years, but on 
 their betrothals she was forced to let them return. Other 
 troubles were not wanting : her foreign household was carped 
 at in Parliament, and her husband — knowing that the rebellion 
 which succeeded the bloody battle at Shrewsbury had first 
 arisen from the quarrel, on her voyage to her bridal, between 
 the Earl of Worcester, her English chamberlain, and her ille- 
 gitimate brother, Charles of Navarre — dismissed all her foreign 
 attendants, excepting a few lower servants, chambermaids, 
 cooks, and laundresses ; for she pleaded that usages were dif- 
 ferent in these " departments between England and Navarre." 
 The English loved not their queen. She was so utterly French, 
 and what the English thoroughly hate — avaricious. She had 
 the grief to see next, her husband's handsome person rendered 
 liideous by frightful leprosy ; moi'eover his high spirit and gal- 
 lant bearing sunk under the infliction of (worst of all scourges) 
 a bad conscience. But she had been used to nurse her old 
 husband, the most irritable prince in Christendom, and she re- 
 tained her influence over King Henry IV. That prince Avas 
 stricken with apoplexy while at his devotions in Westminster 
 Abbey, and expired March 11, 1413. 
 
 In the first years of her widowhood Queen Joanna received 
 attention and respect from Henry V., who was anxious to 
 avail himself of her influence with her son, the Duke of Bre- 
 tagne. She was even entrusted by her royal step-son with a 
 share in the government, when he undertook his expedition 
 against France. Unfortunately, her second son, Arthur, Earl 
 of Richmond, although a peer of England, attacked the out- 
 posts of Henry's camp near Agincoui't, at the head of two 
 thousand French cavalry. Arthur was repulsed, desperately 
 wounded, and made prisoner in the battle the following day. 
 " Henry V. disj^atched a messenger over to England, to Joan- 
 na, with news of his victory, which filled the nation with uni- 
 versal joy. Te Deum was sung in all the churches, and a 
 mighty procession, consisting of the queen, pi*elates, and nobil- 
 ity, with the mayor and corporation of the city of London, 
 walked from St. Paul's to Westminster on the following day, 
 to return public thanks to Almighty God." 
 
 Whosoever might exult in the national tritimph of Agincourt, 
 Joanna had little cause for joy. The husband of her eld- 
 est daughter, the valiant Duke of Alen9on, who clove King 
 Henry's jeweled coronal with his battle-axe in the tntlee., was 
 
1419.] JOANNA OF NAVARRE. 151 
 
 there slain. Her brother, Charles of Navarre, the Constable 
 of France, died of his wounds the following day; and Arthur, 
 her gallant son, Avas a captive. The first interview between 
 Joanna and her captive son is one of the most touching epi- 
 sodes in royal English history. They had not met since he came 
 to England, at twelve years of age, to receive the investiture 
 of the earldom of Richmond from his royal step-father, King 
 Henry IV., in 1403. Twelve years had passed away since that 
 day. Joanna, anxious to ascertain whether Arthur retained 
 any remembrance of her person, placed one of her ladies in the 
 chair of state, and retired among her other attendants in the 
 background to watch the result. Arthur, as might be expect- 
 ed, took the lady who personated the queen for his mother. 
 The lady supported the character she had been directed to 
 personate for several minutes, and told the princely youth to 
 pay his compliments to her ladies. When in turn he came to 
 Joanna, her maternal feelings betrayed her, and she exclaim- 
 ed, " Unhappy son, do you not know me ?" The call of na- 
 ture was felt. Both mother and son burst into tears and em- 
 braced each other tenderly. She gave her son a thousand 
 marks, and supplied hini with rich array, and all things requi- 
 site for his comfort, but all farther intercourse between Jo- 
 anna and her captive son was prevented by the king. 
 • But the trials of Joanna only commenced with the battle of 
 Agincourt. She was suddenly arrested at her dower-palace 
 of Havering-Bowei*, by the order of the Duke of Bedford, the 
 Regent of England, in 1419, under an accusation of witch- 
 craft. All her attendants were removed from her, and she 
 was committed to the custody of Sir John Pelham, at Pevensey 
 Castle. Joanna's principal accuser was her confessor, John 
 Randolf, a Minorite friar, who was at the isle of Guernsey, 
 and sent over to the king in Normandy, where his confessions 
 seemed to have determined Henry V. to proceedings of the 
 utmost rigor against his royal step-mother. Deprived by 
 Henry's order of her rich dower-lands, money, and personals, 
 even to her Avearing apparel, she was condemned unheard, 
 and consigned to years of solitary confinement, without the 
 slightest regard to law or justice. 
 
 When these strange tidings reached her eldest son, the Duke 
 of Bretagne, he sent an embassy of remonstrance to Henry V., 
 then in his career of conquest at Melun. But Joanna was 
 deprived of any hope she might have founded on the efforts of 
 her first-born for her deliverance, by his falling into the hands 
 of his mortal enemy, the Count de Penthievres, and she had 
 the grief of bewailing in her dismal prison-house the captivity 
 
152 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1422. 
 
 of both her sons. The return of the royal victor of Agincourt 
 with his beautiful bride brought no amelioration to the condi- 
 tion of the unfortunate queen-dowager. Though Katherine 
 of Valois was nearly related to her in blood, yet she received 
 neither sympathy nor attention from her, but had the mortifica- 
 tion of knowing that her dower Avas appropriated to maintain 
 Katherine's state as Queen of Englnml. 
 
 Tomb of Henry IV. and his queen, in (Janteibury Gathediul. 
 
 In the fourth year of Joanna's incarceration Henry V. was 
 seized with late remorse for the wrong and robbery of which 
 he had been guilty toward his father's widow, and addressed 
 a letter to the bishops and lords of his council, dated July 13, 
 1422, directing them to restore her dower, and all the rest of 
 her property which had been seized in his name, lest it should 
 prove a farther burden to his conscience; and to let her have 
 four or five new gowns of any color and material she might 
 prefer ; to release her from her present restraint, and provide 
 liorses for eleven cars for the removal of herself and property 
 to any place within the realm to which she might please to de- 
 part. Joanna made choice of Leeds Castle, in Kent, one of 
 her own dower-palaces, where she was immediately visited by 
 
1437.] JOANNA OF NAVARRE. I53 
 
 Henry's brother, the Duke of Gloucester, and Cardinal Beau- 
 fort. She had certainly been compelled to divest herself of her 
 queenly attire, and to assume the coarse garb of penance. 
 Whether the peace-oifering of five or six new gowns, with the 
 royal permission for the injured lady to consult her own taste in 
 the color, material, and fashion of the same, was considered by 
 Joanna as a sufficient compensation for the wrong, and robbery, 
 and weary imprisonment she had undergone, is doubtful. The 
 death of Henry V. occurred in five days after her release, and 
 she put herself into the deepest mourning for him. 
 
 Joanna was treated with all proper consideration by the 
 grandson of her deceased consort, the young King Henry VI. 
 She departed this life at Havering-Bower, on the 9th of July, 
 1437. She survived her first husband, John, Duke of Bretagne, 
 nearly thirty-eight years, and her second, Henry IV. of En- 
 gland, twenty-four. She had nine children by the Duke, of Bre- 
 tagne : eight reached maturity. The corpse of Queen Joanna 
 was interred in Canterbury Cathedral. A superb altar-tomb 
 had been prepared under her auspices for Henry IV., and there 
 their effigies repose side by side, and may still be seen near 
 the monument of Edward the Black Piince. 
 
 G* 
 
154 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 MrM 
 
 Henry V. in liis youtli. 
 
 KATHERINE OF VALOIS, 
 
 S0RNAMED THE FAIR, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF HENRY V. 
 
 Katherhste of Valois was the youngest cbikl of Charles 
 VI., King of France, and Queen Isabeau. She was born Oc- 
 tober 27, 1401, at the Hotel de St. Pol, the private residence 
 in Paris of the royal family. There she was reared in infancy, 
 and there her royal sire, Charles VI., spent the dreary time of 
 his lapses from reason. He was unconscious of his misery, but 
 the royal infants were shamefully neglected by their vicious 
 mother. It was a feature in the King of France's dire disease 
 that when he recovered it left him suddenly. One day, Avhen 
 Katherine was three years old, in 1404, he was observed to 
 look around him intelligently, and the next minute he sternly 
 
1404.] KATHERINE OF VALOIS. 155 
 
 questioned the governess of his little princesses, Michelle and 
 Katherine, regarding the disarray and misery in wbich they 
 appeared. The lady, Avho Avas of high rank, owned that the 
 royal children had not a sufficient supply of clothes, or even of 
 food. "I see I am not better treated," replied Charles; and 
 taking up the silver cup of which he had not yet been deprived, 
 he gave it to her, telling her to sell it, and purchase necessa- 
 ries for his children and those who had not yet deserted 
 them. Directly the wicked queen-mother heard that her royal 
 lord spoke and looked sensibly, her conscience alarmed her, 
 and she decamped with the king's brother, Louis, Duke of 
 Orleans, to Milan, giving orders to her brother, Duke Louis of 
 Bavaria, to abduct the royal children and bring them to her. The 
 Bavarian carried off at the same time the Princess Michelle, 
 who was betrothed to the young Court of Charolois, that young 
 prince, Avho, with all the other children of the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, were educated with the royal family of France at the 
 palais de St. Pol. The Burgundian soldiers who guarded that 
 palace, enraged at the abduction of their own duke's child, pur- 
 sued them. The Duke of Bavaria fled, and the Burgundian 
 guards took possession of Louis the dauphin, his brothers, and 
 the infant Katherine, besides their own young prince and his 
 little wife Michelle. Not knowing what to do, the Burgun- 
 dians respectfully asked the dauphin whither he would please 
 to go. " Take me back to my father," replied the princely boy ; 
 they conducted him back to Paris with the infant Katherine. 
 Queen Isabeau has been accused of poisoning the dauphin Lou- 
 is; for the people, weary of her wickedness and of the rapacity 
 with which she and the Duke of Orleans wasted her afflicted 
 husband'^ revenues, made the poor child regent at fourteen 
 years of age. His preference for his unhappy sire speaks well 
 for him, and the incident altogether shows some of the woes 
 of royal children. 
 
 Katherine was educated in the convent of Poissy, where her 
 sister, the Princess Maria, took the veil. After the assassination 
 of the Duke of Orleans in the streets of Paris, the vile Queen 
 Isabeau was imprisoned at Tours. Here her daughter Kath- 
 erine was sent to her as companion, and grew up with all the 
 beauty that belongs to bright hair in profusion, brilliant white 
 and red complexion, and graceful stature. Her personal at- 
 tractions were much celebrated, and Isabeau looked to her 
 youngest child as the means of restoring her own lost influence 
 by some great marriage. As to the hero to whom Katherine's 
 hand was given, our renowned Henry V., he was the disap- 
 pointed lover of her eldest sister, Isabella. 
 
156 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1387. 
 
 Henry was born in 1387 at Monmouth Castle, belonging to 
 his mother's great inheritance as co-heiress ofthe Bohuns, Earls 
 of Herefoi-d. He was left motherless in 1394, when he was 
 brought up and educated by his grandmother, the Countess of 
 Hereford, who put herself to some cost for an illuminated mis- 
 sal and some other books, all written with the pen, for his use. 
 His grandsire, John of Gaunt, gave him a harp and harp strings, 
 as he was very musical and skillful on the harp at ten years old. 
 His education was* carefully attended to by orders of King 
 Richard, who, when he seized his exiled fixther's inheritance, 
 took possession of the heir. The king knighted him and took 
 him to serve his first campaign in Ireland, and he was at the 
 castle of Trim in Ireland when Richard's misfortunes occurred. 
 Henry IV. sent a Chester ship to bring his heir and young 
 Humphrey of Gloucester to England. At the coronation he 
 walked as Prince of Wales, but Owen Glendower was even 
 then calling Wales to arms. For two or three years the young 
 Henry pursued his studies at Oxford. At the end of that time 
 he had to fight for his i^rincipality and to do battle for his 
 heirship to the English crown at Shrewsbury, where he was 
 wounded, and his A^alor mainly contributed to gain the victory, 
 July 22, 1402. The lineal claims of the heir of Roger Morti- 
 mer to the crown were made public at this insurrection. His 
 son was given into the wardship of the Prince of Wales, who 
 treated him with great kindness, by far the best trait in the 
 character of the renowned Henry V. His chief revenues were 
 derived from his wardship of young Edmund Mortimer's vast 
 estates, which on the death, childless, of that young prince, fell 
 to Anne Mortimer, sister to Edmund and wife of the Eai'l of 
 Cambridge, second son of the Dnke of York. Henry's high 
 rank and poverty, and the desultory war in which he was fre- 
 quently engaged on the Welsh borders, made him dissolute in 
 his manners. Many actions, such as robbing his father's col- 
 lectors of the exchequer, were attributed to him, but he was 
 not on good terms with his step-mother, Joanna of Navarre. 
 When his father lay dying at Westminster Palace he had a 
 remarkable interview with him, and promised to lead a 
 more regular life. Henry IV., convulsed with the agitation, 
 fell back in a fit, and his penitent son supposing he was dead, 
 took away the crown which the dying usurj^er had placed on 
 his pillow. Young Henry finding his possession rather prema- 
 ture, restored it. 
 
 On the accession of Henry V. he dismissed his former com- 
 panions, and professed himself a rigid moralist. He had to 
 fight for his dignity during a short but sharp rebellion and 
 
U15-U20.] 
 
 KATHERINE OF VALOIS. 
 
 157 
 
 battle with fifty thousand insurgents in the fields at the north 
 of London. They were led by Sir Jolni Oldcastle, therefoi'ui- 
 er accused by chroniclers as the corrupter of Henry's youth. 
 Henry, who was in his twenty-seventh year, and had been a 
 leader of armies for at least ten years, soon captured Oldcastle, 
 imprisoned him for treason and heresy, and put him afterward 
 to a cruel death. As Richard II.'s name as a living man had 
 been the war-cry of Oldcastle's revolt, Henry took the oppor- 
 tunity of convincing the people that the rightful king was 
 really dead, and at the same time paying duty to one Avhohad 
 treated him kindly. Henry V. had Richard's body raised from 
 the obscure corner where it had been interred atLangley, car- 
 ried in a chair with the face uncovered in procession to West- 
 minster, and buried by the side of Anne of Bohemia, in the 
 vacant place the unfortunate king had prepared for himself. 
 
 Henry demanded the hand of Katherine dc Valois, with a 
 dowry of two millions of crowns and the restoration of Aqui- 
 taine and Normandy, for the civil war had caused the loss of 
 all the English ever had in France, excepting Calais. The 
 French answered with a present of tennis balls, and insulting 
 advice to make a racket with them. Henry i-esolved on inva- 
 
158 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [U20. 
 
 sion. Just as Henry was about to sail with an invading 
 fleet and army from Southampton, he was informed of a con- 
 spiracy to murder him, for which he beheaded his cousin the 
 Earl of Cambridge, who was the husband of Anne Mortimer, 
 sister of tlie Earl of March, the representative of Lionel, Duke 
 of Clarence. 
 
 Henry landed at Harfleur, took that Norman port by storm, 
 and advanced till disease and early winter thinned his army. 
 He retreated, but turned at bay, and finished his brief cam- 
 paign with victory at Agincourt. Leaving France in panic 
 and mourning, he returned to England, November 27, the 
 same year, where his welcome was rapturous. The fatal loss 
 of Agincourt broke the heart of Katherine's brave young broth- 
 er, the dauphin Louis, who had tried at fifteen to redeem the 
 fortunes of France. The next dauphin, John, died at four- 
 teen. The Queen of France was suspected of poisoning her 
 eldest sons. The third dauphin, Charles, on whom was placed 
 the onerous regency at fourteen, was liept from all communi- 
 cation with Isabeau. Charles VI., who had been nearly con- 
 valescent, on learning the deaths of his young dauphins, fell 
 into agonizing delirium. The queen escaped Avith Katherine 
 from Tours to the Duke of Burgundy, the enemy of her sons, 
 and put herself in his power, intending to marry Katherine to 
 Henry V. for regaining her power. 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy calling for peace in the name of tlie 
 king, Isabeau brought Katherine the Fair that the conqueror 
 might admire her. Henry professed his admiration and even 
 love, but abated not from his exorbitant demands, upon which 
 the barriers of their interview ground were pulled up. War 
 recommenced. Henry's conquests were so rapid that in two 
 years the cry for peace was renewed, for the Earl of Marcli 
 and the king's brother Clarence had already thundered at the 
 gates of Paris. A treaty was made by which Henry was to 
 inherit all France after the death of Charles VI. if he married 
 Katherine: this was agreed near Troyes, May 20, 1420. Then 
 Henry, advancing to Troyes with fifteen hundred men-at-arms, 
 met Katherine and her mother in the church, where the mar- 
 riage treaty disinheriting the dauphin was signed, and the 
 king received the hand of the princess at the Church of St. 
 Peter, June 3, 1420. Few were the days he gave to nuptial 
 festivities. He hurried his bride to the siege of Sens, at which 
 her countrymen made tlie most desperate resistance to hei* 
 husband; and the cruel massacre of Montereau, stormed with- 
 in a fortnight of her espousals, was perpetrated almost in her 
 sight. The courts of France and England were now united, 
 
1421.] KATHERINE OF VALOIS. I59 
 
 find after the snrrenclev of Melun they approached Paris, that 
 Henry and Katherine might make their state entry, which 
 they did with all the symbols of conquest, while the unhappy 
 monarch Charles VI. passed humbly in the train of his son-in- 
 law and daughter, to the grief of his people, silently felt, for 
 the victor Avas all powerful. 
 
 Katherine ought to have been the richest of our queens, for 
 the appanages of the Queens of France and England were set- 
 tled on her. A few scanty instalments were all she ever re- 
 ceived from her own country, which was if possible more ex- 
 hausted by internal civil war than England was by nearly a 
 century of foreign war. As the queen's dower was occupied 
 to the full by his step-mother, Joanna of Navarre, it Avas ren- 
 dered vacant by a charge of sorcery on that clever but some- 
 what grasping lady, as pi-eviously related. After triumphant 
 progresses through England, in which Henry V. solicited 
 throughout the scanty towns benevolences for completing the 
 conquest of France, showing the beautiful princess by his side, 
 whose dower that country was, he brought her back, for her 
 coi'onation as Queen of England in Westminster Abbey, Feb- 
 ruary 24, 1420-1. James I., King of Scotland, his father's pris- 
 oner, taken treacherously and brought up at Windsor Castle, 
 assisted at Katherine's coronation ; and the queen promoted 
 his marriage Avith the king's first cousin. Lady Joanna Beau- 
 fort, with Avhose beauty he had been captivated by seeing her 
 in the gardens from his prison-tower at Windsor Castle. Their 
 love is one of the romances of history, yet true. Our queen is 
 descended from this King and Queen of Scotland. 
 
 James I. promised to fight on the side of Henry V., but 
 all his subjects' hearts Avere on the side of Fi-ance, many 
 fighting A'ery bravely for the disinherited dauphin, Katherine's 
 brother. Henry V. did not wish to leave England until after 
 the birth of the heir or heiress the queen Avas expecting to 
 bring him. Bad news forced him to France. The king's best 
 loved brother, Thomas, Duke of Clarence, had been killed at 
 the fatal field of Baugy, by the lance of Swinton, a Scotch 
 knight fighting for France. It was with difliculty that the 
 Earl of March, the lineal heir of England and Clarence's broth- 
 er-in-arms, brought off the remnant of his English Avarriors. 
 Henry having solemnly forbidden his Avife to lie-in at Wind- 
 sor,-hurried to redeem the fortune of England. Katherine gave 
 birth to a son, December 6, 1421, afterward the hapless Hen- 
 ry VI., but, in disobedience to Henry's commands, chose to be 
 put to lie-in at Windsor Castle. Perhaps Katherine had little 
 respect for the reason of her husband's prohibition, of Avhich 
 
i 
 
 160 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1422. 
 
 he made no secret. Among other bad traits, to which his 
 splendid conquests blind historians, Henry thought himself a 
 great magician, and in studying this trash, promulgated this 
 oracular saying — 
 
 Henry born at Monmouth (A' • ^ ' 
 
 Shall small time reign and much get ; |,vV ^ 
 
 But Henry boru at Windsor shall lose all of it. ' 1 AVal/tA^'^^ 
 
 The joy of having an heir born to the usurped kingdoms of 
 England and France made him send for Katherine in the sum- 
 mer of 1422, to come to him at the murderous siege of Meaux, 
 He took Meaux, and came from its horrors to meet his queen 
 and son at Paris in May, but the hand of death was on him. 
 The terrible internal disease, by Avhich he too truly prophe- 
 sied his short reign, had been aggravated by his exertions at 
 Meaux. However, Katherine and her mighty lord sat at the 
 Louvre on Whit Sunday, gloriously appareled with royal 
 crowns on their heads, but at their public dinner no meat was 
 offered to any one, contrary to the custom of France and cer- 
 tainly to that of England. Great conquerors are always very 
 poor, and consequently very mean. Henry marched to Senlis, 
 and Katherine retired to the castle of Vincennes. Dire pain 
 from assuming his armor, forced Henry to be carried in a litter 
 to his Avife at Vincennes. Here he died, August 31, 1422, 
 deeply penitent for the wrongs done to Queen Joanna, his 
 step-mother. 
 
 Katherine in the midst of her deep grief had now to accom- 
 ]iany the corpse of her warlike lord, escorted by an army 
 through France, ni the longest funeral procession that history 
 records. All in the black garments of woe, with every symbol 
 of mournful pomp, she traveled day by day a mile from his fu- 
 neral car, crossed the seas to Dover, landing with the ro3'al 
 corpse. London was entered at night; it was illuminated by 
 every citizen standing at his door with a torch in his hand. 
 The queen never left her husband's body until consigned to the 
 grave near St. Edward's chapel. Tiie tomb is still to be seen. 
 Katherine was at the cost, and to make that greater, the effi- 
 gy, instead of marble or bronze, had ahead cast of solid silver, 
 Avhich was abstracted at the dissolution of the monastery in the 
 time of Henry VHL 
 
 The infant monarch of England, Henry VL, Avas but nine 
 months old when he succeeded his mighty sire, yet he had to 
 appear before his public, opening Parliament on the tlirone of En- 
 gland, but sitting on his young mother's lap. The Earl of War- 
 
1433.] KATHERINE OF VALOIS. lyi 
 
 wick, -who was his governor, was endowed by the council with 
 power to inflict corporeal punisliment on his royal pupil, and 
 this power was allowed in the king's own name ; who, as if he 
 were quite cognizant of the importance of the discipline neces- 
 sary to be inflicted, exhorts the earl " to chastise us, that we 
 may be brought up in right good nurture." (Kings always 
 spoke of themselves in the j^lural number as us and we.) Yet 
 the royal nursling did not like a bit the better these salutary 
 chastisements prescribed for himself in his own name by his 
 council, of whom the Avarlike Duke of Bedford, (who like all 
 Henry IV.'s younger sons, was childless) was the head. 
 
 When the boy at eleven crossed the sea with great pomp 
 to be crowned King of France, he refused to receive any more 
 chastisements. His queen-mother, although the most rational 
 part of his claim was in her right, did not accompany him to 
 her native land, for Katherine kept in retirement, and dwelt 
 in her most secluded dower-palace. At Windsor Castle, appar- 
 ently early in her widowhood, she had privately married Owen 
 Tudor, one of the guard-noble which Henry V., after the ex- 
 ample of Richard II., had drawn from Wales as personal de- 
 fenders. All were gentlemen with pedigrees of immense 
 length, and were selected for beauty and tine st.ature as well 
 as valor. Owen Tudor was one of those who had, with his 
 commander, the Welsh chief David (surnamed "Gam," or the 
 One-eyed, having lost an eye in battle), saved Henry V.'s life 
 at Agincourt, when struck down in the fiery onslaught of the 
 gallant Duke d'Alen9on. Owen had been made gentleman of 
 the bed-chamber to the king, and succeeded to the oftice of 
 guarding the infant Henry V. While on duty at Windsor 
 Castle some festival was held, at which the infint king sat on 
 the throne in St. George's Hall, and Queen Katherine sat on 
 a low seat near him. Her household were dancing in the 
 evening and Sir Owen Tudor among them, but making a very 
 elaborate pirouette," he missed his footing and fell on the 
 queen's lap. Her gracious manner of receiving his apologies 
 for this awkward accident convinced her ladies that she liked 
 him well. Time advanced, and her regard led to marriage 
 engagement. Sir Owen began to talk of his royal descent, 
 and that he was rightful King of Britain, as he could prove 
 by his genealogy ; and he spoke of his kindred, the ancient 
 chiefs and Princes of Wales ; upon Avhich his betrothed queen 
 requested he would introduce them. Two or three Llewel- 
 lyns and Davids, handsome gentlemen of noble lineage, were 
 brought by him to her presence-chamber, to whom she ad- 
 dressed gracious words in Fi-ench, which they did not com- 
 
1G2 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [U3G-1437. 
 
 prehend ; in English the same ; in Italian they answered not. 
 At last she said to Owen Tudor, " that they were the goodli- 
 est dumb creatures she ever saAv\" Owen's kin knew no 
 tongue but Welsh, and the royal beauty had no skill in that 
 ancient language. 
 
 At what period Katherine the Fair wedded Sir Owen Tudor 
 was never known. It was under great fear of Humphrey, 
 Duke of Gloucester, who had succeeded, on the death of his 
 brother, the great Duke of Bedford, as regent for the young- 
 king. Queen Katherine and Owen were the parents of four 
 children — Edmund, born at Hatfield, one of the queen's dow- 
 er-palaces ; Jasper, born at Hadham. Both were historical 
 characters. Her third son Owen was born at Westminster 
 Palace. So great was the danger of discovery, that the infant 
 was taken into the abbey directly, and given into the care of 
 the monks, who brought him up to the Benedictine order, in 
 which he died, during the reign of his nephew Henry VII. 
 When suspicion was however aroused' Owen Tudor was sent 
 to Newgate, and the queen, again about to become a mother 
 in 1436, retired in disgrace to Bermondsey Abbey, where her 
 little daughter Margaret was born, but died in a few days. 
 The hapless queen, already near death, wrote a pathetic letter 
 to her royal son, asking for pity and kindness, not even then 
 daring to mention her little ones or her husband. She made 
 her will, but she had nothing to bequeath excepting entreat- 
 ies that her debts might be paid. The young king sent her 
 consoling messages and a rich present of a gold tablet. The 
 queen died, January 3, 1436-7. The king, just entering his 
 seventeenth year, was grieved and penitent for the cruelty 
 with which his hapless mother had been pursued by his regent 
 Gloucester. It is said he never forgave him. 
 
 Henry VI. discovered his young brothers Edmund and Jas- 
 per, and sent them to the care of the Lady de la Pole, abbess 
 of Barking, who brought them up. Oner of these half broth- 
 ers, Edmmid Tudor, the king created Earl of Richmond, He 
 married the beautiful Margaret Beaufort ; they were the par- 
 ents of Henry VH. and the royal Tudors. The second son, 
 Jasper Tudor, created by his half-brother Henry VI. Earl of 
 Pembroke, was a warrior, to Avhom the establishment of Henry 
 VH. on the English throne was chiefly due. 
 
 Katherine was buried under a stately tomb, in St. Kather- 
 ine's chapel, Westminster Abbey. When her grandson pulled 
 it down to build Henry VII.'s chapel, her coflin and body 
 were disinterred, and left so at his death. As her great-grand- 
 son, Henry VIII., was more noted for destroying the resting- 
 
1436.] 
 
 KATHERINE OF VALOIS. 
 
 16.3 
 
 places of the defunct than restoring them, the queen's coffin 
 remained above ground, and as embahiiing had preserved it 
 whole for two centuries, the persons who showed the West- 
 minster Abbey made a trade of the poor corpse, charging 
 threepence for its exhibition. At tlie end of the last century 
 the then dean of Westminster ordered the remains of Kather- 
 iue the Fair to be buried. 
 
 Tomb of Henry V., in Westminster Abbe7. 
 
164 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 lleury VI. in his youtli. 
 
 MARGARET OF ANJOU, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF HENRY VI. 
 
 Margaket Avas the youngest daughter of Rene, surnamed 
 the Good, king of many kingdoms and owner of none, son of 
 Louis II., titular King of Naples, Sicily, and Jerusalem, sov- 
 ereign Count of Provence, Anjou, and Maine. Her mother 
 was Isabella, claimant of the duchy of Lorraine. Margaret 
 was born at the castle of Pont-a-Mousson, March 20, 1428, 
 and baptized under the crucifix at Toul Cathedral, near Nanci, 
 the capital of High Lorraine. Rene had been valiant and 
 faithful as the soldier of his unfortunate sovereigns Charles VI. 
 and VIL, had fought bravely through the disastrous battles won 
 by Henry V., but he preferred peace, for he was the best 
 musician and poet of that day, and his chansons are still svi 
 
1443-1445.] MAKGARET OF ANJOU. 1G5 
 
 by his native Proven9als. After her baptism Rene gave 
 Margaret to the arras of Theophanie, his nurse, who had 
 reared himself and his beloved sister, Marie of Anjou, the 
 queen of Charles VII. 
 
 Henry VI. was twenty-four and immarried; his country 
 was impoverished by thirty years' war, which commenced be- 
 fore he was born. All classes desired peace but the nobles 
 and men-at-arms, enriched by the plunder of France. Suf- 
 folk, the statesman-warrior, who had grown grey in the 
 French contest and in the cabinet of the prime minister. Car- 
 dinal Beaufort, turned the king's fancy in favor of Margaret 
 of Anjou, by her portrait, which was far more beautiful than 
 any of those which the Duke of Gloucester, the king's uncle, 
 displayed. Suffolk, after a long negotiation, was sent Avith 
 his accomplished comitess, the grand-daughter and heiress of 
 Chaucer, to espouse Margaret of Anjou for the king. 
 
 Margaret had for the last few years been sojourning at 
 Naples with her brother and sister, of which very unstable 
 realm her father called himself king, and for some years he 
 kept possession of the city and palace of Joanna II., left to 
 him by her will in 1434. Although all was lost in his contest 
 with Alphonso of Arragon, his children had the advantage of 
 being educated in all th6 accomplishments of Italy. Marga- 
 ret returned for her betrothment to Nanci. At St. Martin's 
 Church there, she was married, Suffolk acting as the proxy of 
 Henry VI., November, 1444, in the presence of her aunt, Marie 
 of Anjou, Queen of France, and Charles VII., to whom this 
 marriage was the pledge of pacification Avith England. The 
 bride had not attained her fifteenth year. 
 
 At the nuptial tournaments all the knights w^ore daisies on 
 their helmets as crests. The bridesmaids and every other 
 Lorraine maiden wore garlands of daisies round their heads, 
 in honor of the bride's name and device, as " Marguerite" 
 signifies "the daisy." An enlivening incident occurred on the 
 third day. Ferry of Lorraine, the heir of Duke Antony, the 
 successful competitor for the dukedom of Lorraine, had been 
 long betrothed to Yolante, the elder sister of Margaret. For 
 some mysterious reason Rene delayed their marriage. The 
 young prince now ran away with his fiancee and married her. 
 Charles VII. interceded for their pardon, and Rene, whose 
 delay was on account of the dower, was only too glad that 
 Ferry had taken Yolante. For eight days the nuptial festivi- 
 ties continued, and then Margaret was formally consigned to 
 the care of Suftblk and his lady. The kindred families of 
 Anjou were tenderly attached, every individual to each other 
 
166 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1445-1447. 
 
 and to all. Margaret was surrounded by tliem in tears. 
 " You are placed on one of the greatest thrones of tlie 
 world, ray niece, but it is scarcely worthy of possessing you," 
 said Charles VII., clasping her in his arms at parting, after 
 accompanying her for leagues on her way. 
 
 She left Lorraine in the first days of December, but owing 
 to various impediments in Normandy — regarding the surren- 
 der of Anjou and Maine, appanages of her father, and returned 
 to him by her marriage treaty, to the indignation of the En- 
 glish — Margaret was feasted by the Duke of York at Rouen. 
 He was viceroy for Henry VI. over Normandy and the Anglo- 
 French provinces. He was moreover the rightful heir of 
 England. 
 
 The bride sailed April 2, and landed at Porch ester. From 
 tlience she went to Southampton. Her nuptials with Henry 
 VI. were solemnized on the 22d of April, 1445, in Titchfield 
 Abbey. The bridal ring liad been made from one garnished 
 with a fair ruby, with which Henry was consecrated the day 
 of his coronation at Paris. The queen received at her bridal 
 a present — not of a lap-dog, but the more characteristic offer- 
 ing of a lion. The king escorted her to Greenwich Palace, 
 his favorite abode, preparatory to her London entrance and 
 coronation, which took place May 80, at Westminster Abbey. 
 
 The feuds between Cardinal Beaufort and the Duke of 
 Gloucester, which had commenced long before the birth of the 
 queen, now raged worse than ever. Tender as her years 
 were, she was considered of Beaufort's party by the people. 
 But we earnestly entreat our readers to divest their minds of 
 the mistakes made by Shakespeare, and oh, shame ! by histo- 
 rians pretending to teach the young. The charge of witch- 
 craft, for which the Duchess of Gloucester, Eleanor Cobham, 
 was condemned, occurred three years before Margaret set lier 
 foot in England or saw Henry VI. Therefore, it was impos- 
 sible for her to commit the crime of persecuting her. 
 
 She was still very young, scarcely seventeen, when Gloucester 
 was found dead in his bed at St. Edmundsbury, where Henry 
 summoned his parliament, January, 1446-7. Girls of that age 
 are never consulted as to murder, therefore tlie daughter of 
 Rene the Good may be wholly acquitted of these cold-blooded 
 crimes with which she is charged. Cardinal Beaufort died 
 before the year expired, and when his mighty talents and 
 enormous wealth were lost to his nephew, the remainder of 
 Henry's ministry, headed by Suffolk, became despised as well 
 as hated. Had the queen brought heirs to Lancaster at that 
 time, she would have had her own party. During the short 
 
1448.] MAEGARET OF ANJOU. 107 
 
 interval of peace English commerce began to revive, and Mar- 
 garet in 1448 bad saved sufficient from her dower of 4400Z., 
 settled on her by that calamitous parliament at St. Edmunds- 
 bury, to commence Queen's College at Cambridge, which she 
 meant to enrich from her economy from time to time. 
 
 The queen now had to take that part in government which 
 was very difficult for a girl of eighteen, ignorant of its lan- 
 guage ; but the king began to show symptoms of the fearful 
 brain malady which he had inherited from his grandsire, 
 Charles VI. Heirs were despaired of by the people, and all 
 who were descended from Edward III. began to rally their 
 partisans against the government conducted by Suffolk and 
 the queen, and supported by the ambitious Duke of Somerset, 
 who, though illegitimate, meant to contend for the crown. 
 The most formidable, the Duke of York, descended from Ed- 
 ward III.'s second son, was governing Normandy when Suf- 
 folk recalled him. 
 
 Charles VII. in 1448-9 renewed hostilities with England, 
 and in the course of two years reconquered Normandy. 
 Somerset, who succeeded York, was beaten on all sides. The 
 queen was an object of suspicion to the nation. The name of 
 Frenchwoman was applied to her reproachfully, and the par- 
 tisans of the Duke of York failed not to attribute all the losses 
 in France and Normandy to the misgovernment of the queen; 
 insinuating, that the king was fitter for a cloister than a throne, 
 and had in a manner deposed himself, by leaving the affairs 
 of his kingdom in the hands of a woman, who merely used his 
 name to conceal her usurpation, since, according to the laws 
 of England, a queen-consort hath no power, but title only. 
 Queen Margaret invested York with the govermnent in Ire- 
 land on a rebellion. He left a strong party in England, at the 
 head of which were those powerful nobles, Richard Neville, 
 Earl of Salisbury, and his son, the Earl of Warwick, the broth- 
 er and nephew of his duchess. By this faction the Duke of 
 Suffolk Avas impeached and arrested. The queen, to preserve 
 his life, induced the king to banish him for five years, but the 
 vessel in which he sailed was captured, and he was beheaded 
 after a mock trial by his foes. This mmxler was done by the 
 authority of the Duke of Exeter, the next legitimate heir to 
 Lancaster. He was high admiral, and these ships were com- 
 missioned by him. The insurrection headed by Jack Cade, 
 produced Henry VI. 's first essay in arms. He advanced on 
 London, when the rabble dispersed and fled to Sevenoaks. 
 Queen Margaret accompanied her lord ; but so little of the 
 warlike spirit for which she was afterward renowned did she 
 
168 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [U52. 
 
 manifest, that when King Henry would have followed up his 
 success by pursuing the insurgents to their retreat, her femi- 
 nine terrors j^revailed. He therefore gave up the command 
 of his army, and took her to Kenilworth. 
 
 Scarcely had Cade been destroyed, and the king and queen 
 returned to Loudon, when the defeated Duke of Somerset ar- 
 rived at court ; and the people were exasperated by finding 
 that every province of France was lost. Nothing remained to 
 the English but Calais, and Margaret's unpopularity became 
 worse than ever. The Duke of York suddenly returned from 
 Ireland in 1451, impeached Somerset in Parliament, and he 
 was sent to the Tower, The badges of the white and red 
 roses Avere universally assumed at this time, to distinguish the 
 parties of York and Lancaster. 
 
 At this unlucky time it was announced in the summer of 
 1452 that Queen Margaret was likely to bring an heir to the 
 contested throne. Simultaneously a violent illness attacked 
 Henry YL So dreadful was his malady that it could no 
 longer, as heretofore, be concealed. Mnigaret brought into 
 the world, October 13, 1452, on St. Edward's Day, a son, who 
 was named after the saint, but the king could not be made to 
 comprehend the event. 
 
 All tlie royal functions of which the unconscious king was 
 incapable were exercised by the scarcely convalescent queen. 
 No one can wonder that she sent for Somerset out of the 
 Tower to help her. The royal infant was created Prince of 
 "\YaIes and his revenue settled. York, Avho assumed all pow- 
 er, arrested Somerset in the queen's presence-chamber, and 
 slie was forced to endure the insult. Fifteen months passed 
 away while the king continued in a state of aberration. At 
 last he began to amend in November, 1453, and seemed to 
 awake as from a long dream. The preceding year he had not 
 taken the least notice of the prince when he was presented to 
 him, to the great anguish of INIargaret. Henry's recognition 
 of the infant is thus related by a witness : " On Monday at 
 noon the queen came to him, and brought my lord prince with 
 her. Then the king asked, ' Wliat the prince's name was?' 
 and the queen told him, 'Edward ;' and then he held up 
 his hands, and thanked God thereof And he said he never 
 knew him till that time, nor wist wliat was said to him, nor 
 wist where he had been whilst he had been sick, till now. 
 And he asked who were the godfothers ? and the queen told 
 him, and he. was well content. And she told him Cardinal 
 Kemp was dead, and he said he never knew of it till this 
 time. Then he said, ' One of the wisest lords in this land was 
 
145G.] MARGARET OF ANJOU. 169 
 
 dead.' And my lord of Winchester [bishop] and my lord of 
 St. John of Jerusalem were -vvith him the morrow after 
 Twelfth Day, and he did speak to them as well as ever he did ; 
 and when they came out they wept for joy. And he saith he 
 is in charity with all the world, and so he would all the lords 
 were." His son was then fifteen months old, and as beautiful 
 an infant as ever was beheld. The king resumed his devout 
 attention to religion, which had been interrupted during his 
 calamity. 
 
 Margaret took prompt measures for Henry's restoration to 
 the sovereign authority, by causing him to be conveyed, 
 though still very weak, to the House of Lords, where he dis- 
 solved the Parliament, and the Duke of Somerset was immedi- 
 ately released and reinstated in political power. The triumph 
 of the queen and her party was short-lived. The Duke of 
 York raised an army on the marches of Wales, and aided by 
 his wife's kinsmen, Salisbury and Warwick, drew near London, 
 with the intention of surprising the king there. King Henry 
 had courage, as this day proved, but his holy nature revolted 
 from bloodshed. He sent a message to the Duke of York, to 
 ask " wherefore he came in hostile array against him?" York 
 replied that " He would not lay down his arms unless the 
 Duke of Somerset was delivered up to justice." Henry for 
 onoe in his life manifested something of the fiery temperament 
 of a Plantagenet. With an angry oath, he afiirmed that "He 
 would deliver up his crown as soon as he would the Duke of 
 Somerset." The Earl of Warwick, Avho commanded York's 
 van-guard, commenced the attack. The battle lasted but an 
 hour. The king's army, made up of gentlemen, was inferior 
 in numbers, and pent i;p in the town of St, Albans. Desper- 
 ate fighting ensued in the narrow streets. Somerset fell. The 
 king, who stood under his own standard, was wounded in the 
 neck with an arrow at the commencement of the fight. He 
 remained till he was left solus under his royal banner, when 
 he walked very coolly into a baker's shop close by, where 
 York immediately visited him, and bending his knee, bade him 
 " rejoice, for the traitor Somerset was slain." Henry replied, 
 " for God's sake, stop the slaughter of my subjects !" York 
 then took the wounded king by the hand, and led him first to 
 the shrine of St. Alban, and then to his apartments in the 
 abbey. Next day, May 24, the victor took Henry to West- 
 minster. 
 
 Meantime Margaret had retired with her ladies and the in- 
 fant prince to Greenwich, where she remained in suspense dur- 
 ing the battle of St. Albans. The news of the slaughter of 
 
 H 
 
170 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1456-1459. 
 
 her brave friends, Somerset, Northumberland, and CUfFord, 
 and the captivity of the king lier husband, phmged her into 
 a sort of stupor of despair, in which she remained for many 
 hours. Her chamberlain. Sir John Wenlock, whom she had 
 loaded with benefits, took that opportunity of forsaking her. 
 He was chosen speaker of the Yorkist parliament, which King- 
 Henry had been compelled to summon. The king's wound 
 ^^'^^s dangerous, and his malady came on, so that on July 4 he 
 was declared incapable of attending *to business, and the Duke 
 of York was commissioned to govern in his name, with the 
 name of protector and an income of four thousand marks. It 
 was in this parliament that Queen Margaret Avas for the first 
 time publicly censured, by the vote "that the government by 
 the queen, the Duke of Somerset, and their party, had been of 
 late oppressive to the people." 
 
 York resigned the custody of the king's person to the queen, 
 and enjoined her to Avithdraw with him and the infant prince 
 to Hertford Castle. Margaret was not in a condition to re- 
 sist this arrangement, but soon after returned to the palace of 
 Greenwich with these precious objects of her care, and ap- 
 peared entirely absorbed in the anxious duties of a wife and 
 mother. 
 
 Margaret remained in seclusion two years, at the end of which 
 time her cares had so well restored Henry to health, that sud- 
 denly, February 24, 1456, he went to parliament, and taking 
 every one by surprise, declared himself well enough to resume 
 his royal authority. Parliament dutifully allowed his claim, 
 and York could do no better than retreat to Wigmore, while 
 Margaret put the government into the hands of Henry, Duke 
 of Somerset. The king's health again veered, and Margaret 
 withdrew with him to the mid-counties. She was greatly be- 
 loved at Coventry, and there she fixed his abode, soothing his 
 malady with music and the melodious voices of young choris- 
 ters. The king was recovered, September, 1458, so well that 
 he came to London and invited York and his party to a pa- 
 cification banquet and religious services at St. Paul's Cathe- 
 dral, where every one walked with an enemy — as the queen 
 with the Duke of York — and vowed eternal amity at the al- 
 tar. Wonderful to say, the amity lasted till the summer of 
 1459, when an affray took place with the king's black guard, 
 that is, the cooks and scullions, who soundly beat Warwick's 
 men. All flew to arms; the drawn battle of Bloreheath was 
 fought September 23, and other skirmishes. York and his par- 
 ty were attainted, and fled to their strongholds — York to Ire- 
 land, Warwick to Calais, of which he retained the govern- 
 
14GG.] MARGARET OF ANJOU. 171 
 
 ment through all reverses, and Avith it the cominand of the 
 English fleet. 
 
 There was no attempt at pacification afterward. The queen 
 had won the hearts of the heirs of the valiant earls who had 
 fallen at St. Albans ; they were burning to avenge their sires. 
 She brought her husband, very ill and infirm, to her safe har- 
 bor of Coventry as she called it; likewise their son, who was 
 very lovely and engaging. At six years old he made many 
 partisans by his winning ways, and distributing little silver 
 harts as his badge. The Yorldsts now seized London and ad- 
 vanced to battle, and with them came a formidable rival to 
 Margaret's young Prince of Wales, none other than Edward, 
 Earl of March, eldest son of the Duke of York. He was a 
 handsome young warrior of nineteen, Warwick's pupil in Avar. 
 The Lancastrians met the Yorkist army, July 9, 1460, near 
 Northampton. The queen, imagining herself secure of victo- 
 ry, had induced the king to quit the town of Coventry, July 
 9, 1460, cross the river Nene, and encamp with his army in the 
 plain near Sandifibrd. The fiery heir of York then advanced 
 his father's banner, and attacked the host of Lancaster at seven 
 in the morning. The battle lasted but two hours. Ten thou- 
 sand tall Englishmen were slain or drowned in attempting to 
 repass the river, and King Henry himself, left all lonely and 
 disconsolate, was taken prisoner. Queen Margaret was not 
 herself in the battle, but, with the infant hope of Lancaster, was 
 posted in a spot whence she could command a prospect of 
 the field and communicate with her generals. When, however, 
 the treachery of Lord Grey of Ruthyn caused a headlong rush 
 of her disordered troops to repass the river they had crossed 
 so full of ardor, the courage of the heroine yielded to maternal 
 terror; she fled precipitately with her boy and a few faithful 
 followers northward. On the road to Chester she was joined 
 by the Duke of Somerset, and, after a thousand perils, succeed- 
 ed in reaching Harlech Castle, an impregnable fortress in North 
 Wales, where she was manfully protected by Dafyd ap Jeuan 
 ap Einion, a Welsh chieftain, Avho, in stature, resembled one 
 of the Cambrian giants of romance. In this rocky fastness,* 
 Avhich appeared as if formed by nature for the shelter of the 
 royal fugitives, they remained safe from pursuit. The Duke 
 of York compelled the king his prisoner to issue summonses 
 addressed to Queen Margaret, commanding her and the prince 
 their son to return to London, under penalty of high treason. 
 
 The indignation of the queen roused her from her needed 
 rest in North Wales. She remembered that King James of 
 Scotland was descended from a Lancastrian princess. She 
 
172 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [14G0. 
 
 took leave of Harlech with thanks, to which the loving Cam- 
 brians responded with one of their sweet lays, still extant — 
 " Margaret the Fair, farewell !" She embarked on the Menai, 
 touched at Lincluden Abbey, and sent to the queen-regent, 
 Mary of Gueldres. She and her boy were entertained by the 
 minor king, James III., grandson of Joanna Beaufort, young 
 Edward's great-aunt, at Falkland. Nothing could detain Mar- 
 garet when she had her quota of arms and men. She unfurled 
 the banner of the Red Rose on the border. Young Clifibrd and 
 young Percy responded with twenty thousand men. Marga- 
 ret was at the gates of York and in the city before the duke 
 thereof knew she was in England. 
 
 Christmas Eve, 1460, saw the Duke of York at his strong cas- 
 tle of Sandal, by forced marches, and there, with five thousand 
 men, he determined to await the arrival of his son Edward, 
 who was raising forces. Margaret advanced to Wakefield, 
 and appearing under the walls of Sandal Castle, defied the duke 
 to meet her in the field day after day, and used so many pro- 
 voking taunts " on his want of courage in suffering himself to 
 be tamely braved by a woman," that York, who certainly had 
 had little reason to form a very lofty idea of Margaret's skill as 
 a military leader, determined to come forth and do battle with 
 her and twenty thousand northern men, against the entreaties 
 of his old marcher warrior, Davy Hall, but in less than half an 
 hour he was slain and his army discomfited. Two thousand 
 of the Yorkists lay dead on the field, and the ruthless Clifibrd, 
 on his return from the pursuit, in which he had slain the young 
 Earl of Rutland in cold blood on Wakefield Bridge, severed 
 the head of the Duke of York from his lifeless body, crowned 
 it with paper, and presented it to Queen Margaret on the point 
 of a lance. She laughed and said, "Put the traitors' heads on 
 York gate, and take care that room be left between the heads 
 of York and Salisbury for those of the Earls of March and War- 
 wick, which she intended should soon keep them company." 
 The demons of war were now let loose in all their destroying 
 fury, and the leaders of the rival parties emulated each other 
 hi deeds of horror. Edward, Earl of March, won a battle at 
 Mortimer's Cross, February 1 st, which was followed by san- 
 guinary executions. Owen Tudor among others was behead- 
 ed. Queen Margaret, however, pushed on impetuously to the 
 metropolis, with the intention of rescuing her captive lord from 
 the thraldom in which he had been held ever since the battle 
 of Northampton. Warwick met her on the former battle-ground 
 at St. Alban's, leading his royal prisoner in his train, intercept- 
 ed her army, and filled the town with archers ; but she iutrep- 
 
14G0.J MARGARET OF ANJOU. I73 
 
 idly forced her way tlirough a lane into St. Peter's Street, and 
 drove Warwick's archers back upon the van-guard of his army 
 on Barnet heath. Warwick's Londoners proved no match for 
 the stout northern men whom Margaret kept pouring upon 
 them. The Yorkists dispersed and fled in the gloom of a De- 
 cember eve, leaving their royal prisoner, King Henry, nearly 
 alone in a tent. The queen was not aware of his proximity, 
 till his faithful servant, Howe, ran to Lord Clifford's quarters 
 to announce the fact. Attended by Cliiford, she flew to greet 
 him, and they embraced with the most passionate tokens 
 of joy. Margaret exultingly presented the young Prince 
 of Wales, who had been her qompanion during the perils 
 of that stormy day, and requested Henry to bestow kniglit- 
 hood on the gallant child. This ceremonial performed, the 
 king, with his victorious consort, the Prince of Wales, and the 
 northern lords, went immediately to return thanks, in the ab- 
 bey-church of St. Alban's, for his deliverance. Then Henry 
 went forthwith to visit and to knight John Gray, the dying 
 commander of Margaret's cavalry, who had won the day by his 
 heroism. 
 
 Flushed with her recent triumphs, and cherishing a wrath- 
 ful remembrance of the disaffection of the Londoners, Marga- 
 ret sent a haughty demand for provisions for her army to the 
 civic authorities. The lord-mayor, a Lancastrian, loaded some 
 carts, but the citizens, chiefly Yorkist, seized them at Cripple- 
 gate. And Margaret, highly exasperated, gave permission to 
 her fierce northern auxiliaries to plunder the country up to the 
 very gates of London. At which the abbot of St. Alban's, 
 who had given shelter to the queen's friends, the newly wid- 
 owed Elizabeth Gray and her mother Jacquetta, Duchess of 
 Bedford, sent those ladies in the midst of their grief to beg 
 mercy of the queen for his tenants and neighbors. 
 
 St. Alban's was won, but not London, which the victorious 
 young warrior, Edward of York, entered in triumph : he was 
 received by the citizens as their deliverer : and on the 4th of 
 March he was proclaimed king, with universal acclamations, 
 by the style and title of Edward IV. Margaret was the hero- 
 ine of the northern aristocracy, and to the north she retreat- 
 ed. An army of sixty thousand men was in the course of a 
 few days at her command. Somerset and Clifford prevailed 
 on Margaret to remain with the king and the young Prince 
 of Wales at York, while they engaged the rival sovereign. 
 The Lancastrians were defeated at Ferrybridge and Towton 
 on successive days. Margaret fled, with her consort and her 
 son, to Newcastle, -and from thence to Alnwick Castle. A 
 
174 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [14G3. 
 
 mournful welcome awaited her there, for its gallant lord hud 
 fought and fallen in her cause at Towton. 
 
 At the approach of the victorious Yorkists, the royal fugi- 
 tives sought refuge in Scotland. Accompanied by King Henry, 
 their son, and six followers only, Margaret crossed the border. 
 She received a kind and honorable Avelcome from the queen- 
 regent of Scotland, and, to the astonishment of all Europe, her 
 son, Edward, Prince of Wales, and the Princess Margaret, sis- 
 ter to the young King James III., were betrothed, on her jjrom- 
 ise of surrendering the oft-contested town of Berwick. Som- 
 erset's vileness in slandering the Queen of Scotland was the 
 cause of breaking up ihe friendship which Margaret had estab- 
 lished. In the first week in April, she and her son, and a par- 
 ty of their followers, embarked at Kirkcudbright for France. 
 Louis was now King of France. lie bestowed much apparent 
 regard on Margaret, to cajole her into giving up Calais to him; 
 and as that town was not in her possession, she was easily 
 persuaded to sign a treaty for its siirrender ; and was compli- 
 mented by being united with him in the office of sponsor to 
 the infant son of the Duke and Duchess of Orleans, afterward 
 Louis XII. of France, whom she presented at the baptismal 
 font. 
 
 Margaret had no succor from her own family, for King 
 Rene and his son were engaged in a ruinous contest with Ar- 
 ragon. Kindred and countrymen had failed her in her sore 
 adversity, but when Pierre Breze, the seneschal of Normandy, 
 entered as a volunteer, with two thousand men, into her serv- 
 ice, she sought once more, and obtained assistance from the 
 Scotch, and placed her devoted champion, Breze, at the liead 
 of the forces with Avhich she was supplied. She then brought 
 King Henry into the field, who had previously been hidden in 
 lier safe refuge at Harlech Castle. Slie left the little Prince of 
 Wales at Berwick, not wishing to expose his tender childhood 
 to a northern campaign. This Avas her first separation from 
 her son. She captured the important fortresses of Bambor- 
 ough, Alnwick, and Dnnstanburgh, and garrisoned them with 
 Scotch and Frenchmen. 
 
 Somerset, for whose house she had sacrificed so much, sur- 
 rendered the castle of Bamborough to Warwick, on condition 
 of receiving a pension from King Edward. Suffolk and Exe- 
 ter, likewise, carried perjured homage to the throne of that 
 monarch. Yet Margaret continued courageously to struggle 
 against fortune, and succeeded in winning back Somerset and 
 Exeter to the bnnner of the Red Rose. 
 
 In the spring of 1403 Margaret brought her young prince to 
 
UG3.] MARGARET OF ANJOU. 175 
 
 eucourage the Lancastrian army at Hexham. Total rout, as 
 usual, was the result of Somerset's generalship. Margaret fled 
 with the prince toward the Scotch border, taking with them 
 as many of the crown-jewels and other treasures as they could 
 secure : among these, as she afterward told her cousin the 
 Duchess of Bourbon, were some large gold vessels, which she 
 hoped to have carried safely into Scotland ; but while thus 
 laden, she and her company were overtaken by plunderers, 
 who robbed them of every thing, and even despoiled her and 
 the little Prince of Wales of their ornaments and rich array. 
 
 To Hexham forest her equerry, who was the conductor of 
 the party, fled ; as for Margaret, she was in no condition to 
 form a judgment as to what course to take, for, as she after- 
 ward declared, when they plunged into the dark depths of the 
 forest, she fancied every tree she saw was a man with a naked 
 sword in his hand, who kept crying to her "d la 'niortV 
 Hexham forest was then a sort of " dead man's ground," 
 which few travelers ventured to cross, except in large parties 
 well armed. 
 
 The night closed over the fugitive queen and her boy while 
 they were wandering in the tangled mazes of Hexham forest. 
 Neither of them had tasted food since an early hour in the 
 morning. To add to her distress, Margaret was uncertain 
 whether the king her husband was alive or dead, as they had 
 fled in different directions. Suddenly she perceived, by the 
 light of the rising moon, an armed man of gigantic stature 
 advancing toward her. She guessed that he was one of the 
 forest outlaws. Her courage rose with the greatness of the 
 danger; she called him to her. There is something in the tone 
 and manner of those whose vocation is command which in- 
 sures involuntary attention. She took the little prince by the 
 hand, and presented him to the outlaw with these words : 
 " Here, my friend, save the son of your king. Take him, and 
 conceal him from those who seek his life. -.Give him refuge in 
 thine own hiding-place." 
 
 The outlaw, who was a ruined Lancastrian gentleman, well 
 remembered her. No belted knight could have acquitted him- 
 self more nobly of the trust the unfortunate queen had con- 
 fided to his honor. Raising the weary prince in his arms, ho 
 led the way, followed by the queen and her equerry to his se- 
 cret retreat — a cave in a secluded spot on the south bank of 
 the rapid little stream which washes the foot of Blackhill, where 
 the royal fugitives were refreshed, and received all the comfort 
 his wife was able to bestow. The local traditions of Hexham 
 still call the robber's den " Queen Margaret's cave." The en- 
 
176 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [14G3. 
 
 trance to it is very low, behind the bank of the rivulet, and 
 was formerly concealed from sight and surrounded by wild 
 wood. Its dimensions are thirty-four by fourteen feet : the 
 height will barely allow a full-grown person to stand upright. 
 A massive pillar of rude masonry in the centre of the cave 
 marks the boundary of a wall, once dividing it into two apart- 
 ments. 
 
 Such was the reti*eat in which the queen and prince remain- 
 ed during two days of agonizing suspense. On the third 
 morning their host encountered Sir Pierre de Breze and an 
 English gentleman, who, having escaped the robbers at Hex- 
 ham, had been making anxious search for her and the prince. 
 From these devoted friends Margaret learned the escape of 
 her royal husband, and the terrible vengeance that had been 
 executed on Somerset and her faithful adherents, the Lords 
 Hungerford and Roos. She received these tidings with floods 
 of tears. Soon they met the Duke of Exeter and Edmund 
 Beaufort, the brother and successor of the beheaded Duke of 
 Somerset. Margaret's spirits revived at the sight of these 
 princes, whom she had numbered with the slain of Hexham, 
 and she determined to send them to their powerful kinsman, 
 the Duke of Burgundy, to solicit an asylum at the court of Di- 
 jon for herself and the Prince of Wales. The Dukes of Somer- 
 set and Exeter offered money to the wife of the hospitable 
 outlaw, which she refused. " Of all I have lost," exclaimed 
 the queen, " I regret nothing so much as the power of recom- 
 pensing such virtue." Accompanied by Breze and the squire, 
 and attended by the outlaw of Hexham in the capacity of a 
 guide, Margaret and the young prince her son took the road 
 to Carlisle, from whence she once more went to Kirkcud- 
 bi'ight. 
 
 But Scotland presented no asylum for her, her presence and 
 that of her son gave alarm ; she therefore had to cross the 
 border again, and embarked at Bamborough, where her brave 
 northern friends still held out, and sailed from thence for 
 France. Furious storms drove her into the port of Ecluse, 
 the dominions of her father's foe, Philip, Duke of Burgun- 
 dy, who had, however, married Isabella of Portugal, grand- 
 daughter of John of Gaunt. There she landed the last day 
 of July, 1463, accompanied by her son and some faithful ladies. 
 Sir John Fortescue, one of the greatest authors on English 
 laws and liberty — he had been Henry VI.'s lord chief-justice 
 and tutor to the young prince — followed the adverse fortunes 
 of his royal friends. Margaret had in her prosperity declared 
 that if slie could once get the Duke of Burgundy in her power she 
 
1463-1470.] MARGARET OF ANJOU. l^Y 
 
 would make " the axe pass between his head and shoulders ;" 
 nevertheless he behaved to her like a true knight — relieved her 
 necessities and gave her hospitality — although she came to Bru- 
 ges in a common stage-wagon, and her gown, the only one she 
 had, was only a " robette" or jacket. He sent his sister, the 
 Duchess of Bourbon, to visit her, to whom she told her Hex- 
 ham adventures ; Sir John Chastillon, who was present, heard 
 them ; we have translated them from his chronicle, and we 
 wish we had room here for more of the adventures he relates 
 of Margaret; but our readers will find all in the larger edi- 
 tions of the Queens of England, likewise Margaret's portrait 
 and autograph. 
 
 Lorraine was at last the place of her retreat ; her father al- 
 lowed her out of his poverty the castle and demesne of Kuerin 
 near St. Michael's town, and two thousand livres per annum. 
 His sister, Marie of Anjou, the dowager-queen of France, used 
 to take her part of the year to her royal castle of Amboise ; 
 and Margaret's beloved sister Yolante received her and her 
 exiled Prince of Wales for long visits. Under the tuition of 
 Sir John Fortescue the young prince advanced to manhood with 
 very fair promise of excellence, while they all waited for better 
 times. And they tliought these had arrived when Edward IV., 
 in the insolence of prosperity, quarreled with Warwick, who 
 came with his family and the Duke of Clarence, the husband 
 of his eldest daughter, as fugitives, to seek assistance from 
 Louis XI. Margaret was sent for by Louis to meet War- 
 wick at Tours, and be reconciled to him. It Avas long before she 
 could bend her mind to that expedient. Finally, she pawned 
 Calais to Louis XL, and then, after she had consented that 
 Warwick's youngest daughter, the Lady Anne Neville, 
 should marry her son, which took place at Amboise, August, 
 1470, a new invasion was prepared against England. Warwick 
 and Clarence led the enterprise and landed at Dartmouth. 
 
 Warwick's expedition was triumphant. Edward IV. fled ; 
 his queen, Elizabeth Woodville, took sanctuary. Henry VI. 
 was removed from his Tower restraint to Westminster. He 
 had not been ill treated in the Tower, and he was not elated 
 with his restoration. Margaret, in her endeavor to sail with her 
 armament, in which was her son and his bride, was constantly 
 baflled by furious storms ; meantime she was not ignorant of 
 the return of King Edward, his success, and the defection of 
 "false, perjured, fleeting Clarence." Her anxiety to reach 
 the scene of action was proportioned to the desperate nature 
 of the closely contested game that was playing there. 
 
 Despite of all opposing influences of the elements, she once 
 
 H* 
 
178 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1471. 
 
 more put to sea, March 24. The passage, which with a favor- 
 able wind might have been achieved in twelve hours, was 
 protracted sixteen tedious days and nights. On Easter Eve 
 her long-baffled fleet made the port of Weymouth. At the 
 Abbey of Cerne, Queen Margaret, with the Prince and Prin- 
 cess of Wales, kept their Easter festival, at the very time their 
 cause was receiving its death-blow on the fatal heath of Bar- 
 net. 
 
 When the di-eadful news of the death of Warwick and the 
 recapture of King Henry was brought to Margaret, she fell to 
 the ground in a deep swoon, and for a long time remahied in 
 utter despair. The soothing caresses of her beloved son in 
 some manner restored her to herself; she departed, with all her 
 company, to the famous sanctuary of Beaulieu Abbey, where she 
 registered iierself and companions as sanctuary persons. Here 
 she was visited by the young fiery Duke of Somerset, and many 
 Lancastrian nobles, Avho welcomed her to England; they strove 
 to rouse her from her dejection by telling her " they had already 
 good puissance in the field, and trusted, Avith the encourage- 
 ment of her presence and that of the prince, soon to draw all 
 the northern and western counties to the banner of the Red 
 Hose." Margaret said, " It was her opinion no good would 
 be done in the field, and it would be best for her and the 
 prince, with such as chose to share their fortunes, to return to 
 France." But the gallnnt young prince would not consent. 
 Margaret at last said, " Well, be it so." She then consented to 
 quit her asylum, and proceeded with the Lancastrian lords to 
 Bath. 
 
 Thence they passed on to Tewkesbury. Edward IV. had ar- 
 rived within a mile of that place before she came, and was ready 
 to do battle with her. Although she had marched seven-and- 
 thirty miles that day with the army, Margaret and her son the 
 prince rode about the field, and from rank to rank, encourag- 
 ing the soldiers with promises of large rewards, if they won 
 the victory. 
 
 The battle was fought on the 4th of May, 1471, and was lost, 
 through the inconsiderate fury of Somerset ; who, finding Lord 
 Wenlock inactively sitting on his horse in the market-place 
 of Tewkesbury with his laggard host, Avhen his presence was 
 most required, rode fiercely up to him, and calling him " Trai- 
 tor !" cleft his skull with his battle-axe. His men, panic strick- 
 en at the fate of their leader, fled. The Prince of Wales had 
 no experience as a general, and his personal courage was un- 
 availing. When Queen Margaret saw that the day was going 
 against her, she could with difficulty be withheld from rushing 
 
1471.] MARGARET OF ANJOU. I79 
 
 into the battle; but at length, fainting with the violence of 
 lier feelings, she was carried to her chariot by her faithful at- 
 tendants, and was thus conveyed through the gates of Tewkes- 
 bury Park to a small religious house hard by, where her 
 daughter-in-law, the Princess of Wales, and other Lancastrian 
 ladies, had already taken refuge. She remained there till 
 Tuesday, May Vth, three days after the battle. The last hope 
 of the unfortunate queen perished at Tewkesbury. 
 
 Sir Richard Crofts, to whom the Prince of Wales had sur- 
 rendered, tempted by the proclamation " that whoever should 
 bring Edward (called prince) to the king, should receive one 
 hundred pounds a year for life, and the prince's life be spared," 
 produced his prisoner. King Edward, struck with the noble 
 presence of the youth, after he had well considered him, de- 
 manded, " How he durst so presumptuously enter his realms, 
 with banners displayed against him?" — "To recover my fa- 
 ther's crown and mine own inheritance," was the bold but rash 
 reply of the intrepid prince. Edward struck him in the lace 
 with his gauntlet, which was the signal for his pitiless attend- 
 ants to dispatch him with their daggers. 
 
 The following day. Queen Margaret Avas brought to Edward 
 IV. at Coventry, May 11th, by her old enemy Sir William 
 Stanley, by whom, it is said, the first news of the massacre of 
 her beloved son was revealed to the bereaved mother, in a 
 manner that was calculated to aggravate the bitterness of this 
 dreadful blow. Margaret, in agony, invoked terrible male- 
 dictions on the head of the ruthless Edward and his posteri- 
 ty, which Stanley was inhuman enough to report to his royal 
 master. Edward was at first so much exasperated, that he 
 thought of putting her to death ; but no Plantagenet ever 
 shed the blood of a woman. Margaret and her unfortunate 
 daughter-in-law, the Princess of Wales, entered London to- 
 gether in the train of the haughty victor; it is said they trav- 
 eled in the same chariot, but were separated immediately on 
 their arrival. Margaret Avas incarcerated in prison lodgings 
 in that gloomy fortress where her royal husband was already 
 immured — that husband to whom she was now so near, after 
 long years of separation, and yet was to behold no more. 
 The same night that Margaret of Anjou was brought as a cap- 
 tive to the Tower of London, she was made a Avidow. "That 
 night, between eleven and twelve of the clock, Avas King 
 Henry, being prisoner in the Tower, put to death, the Duke 
 of Gloucester and divers of his men being in the ToAver." 
 
 King Edward and the Duke of Gloucester, as if apprehen- 
 sive of some outburst of popular hidignation, left London 
 
180 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1471-1475. 
 
 early in the same morning that the tragic pageant of exposing 
 the corpse of their royal victim to public view was to take 
 place. Very brief was the interval between the death and 
 funeral of holy Henry. In the evening his hearse was placed 
 in a lighted barge, guarded by soldiers from Calais, and con- 
 veyed up the dark waters of the Thames at midnight to his silent 
 interment at Chertsey Abbey. 
 
 Death had likewise been busy in the paternal house of Mar- 
 garet. Her brother, John of Calabria, his young promising 
 heir, and her sister's husband. Ferry of Vaudemonte, all died 
 within a few weeks of each other. King Rene I'oused himself 
 from the despair in which he had been plunged by these re- 
 peated bereavements to write the following touching letter 
 to Margaret, which she received in the midst of her agonies 
 for the death of her husband and son : 
 
 "My child, may God help thee with his counsels! for rarely is the aid 
 of man tendered in such reverse of fortune. When you can spare a thought 
 from your own sufferings, think of mine ; they are great, my daughter, yet 
 would I console thee." 
 
 The imprisonment of Queen Margaret was at first very 
 rigorous, but it was, after a time, ameliorated through the 
 compassionate influence of Edward's queen, Elizabeth Wood- 
 ville, who retained a grateful remembrance of the benefits she 
 had formerly received from her royal mistress. She was trans- 
 ferred from the Tower to Wallingford Castle, where she had 
 the happiness of the company of her friend Alice, duchess- 
 dowager of Suffolk, whose son had married Edwai'd IV.'s sis- 
 ter. Her tender-hearted father. King Rene, was unwearied 
 in his exertions for her emancipation, which was at length ac- 
 complished at the sacrifice of his inheritance of Provence, 
 which he ceded to Louis XL at Lyons, in 1475, for half its 
 value, that he might deliver his beloved child from captivity. 
 
 The agreement between Edward IV. and Louis XL for the 
 ransom of Margaret of Anjou was finally settled August 29th, 
 1475, while Edward was in France. Louis undertook to pay 
 fifty thousand crowns for her liberation, at five instalments. 
 She safely arrived at Dieppe in the beginning of January, 1476. 
 It was requisite, for the validity of the deeds of renunciation 
 she had to sign, that she should be at liberty. Therefore Sir 
 Thomas Montgomery took her to Rouen, and consigned her 
 to the French ambassadors ; and on the 29th of January she 
 signed a formal renunciation of all rights her marriage in En- 
 gland had given her. The home to which her father welcomed 
 Margaret was at that time at Reculee, about a league from 
 Angers, on the river Mayence, where he had a castle that 
 
1480.J 
 
 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 181 
 
 commancled a view of the town, with a beautiful garden and 
 a gallery of paintings and sculpture, which he took deliglit in 
 adorning with his own paintings, and ornamented the walls 
 of his garden with heraldic designs carved in marble. Mar- 
 garet had lost her beauty with excessive Aveeping ; a dry lep- 
 rosy transformed this princess, who had been celebrated as 
 the fairest in the world, into a spectacle of horror. She sel- 
 dom left her retreat at Reculee ; but she is considered to have 
 been the person Avho kept alive the interests of the Lancas- 
 trian party for her royal consort's kinsman, the young Earl of 
 Richmond, of whom Henry YI. had prophesied " that he 
 should one day wear the crown of England." 
 
 Queen Margaret. From portraits in Queen's College. 
 
 King Rene died in 1480; he bequeathed "one tliousand 
 crowns in gold to his daughter Margaret, Queen of England, 
 the castle of Queniez, and two thousand livres per annum." 
 Her father, with his last breath, had consigned her to the care 
 of the faithful officer of his household, Francis Vignolles, Lord 
 
182 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1483. 
 
 of Moraens, who had shared all his struggles. This brave 
 soldier took the fallen queen to his own home, the chateau of 
 Daniprierre, near Saumur, where she closed her troublous pil- 
 grimage, August 25th, 1483, in the fifty-first year of her age. 
 She was buried in the cathedral of Angers, in the same tomb 
 with her beloved parents, without epitaph or inscription, or 
 any other memorial, excepting her portrait on glass in a win- 
 dow of the cathedral, which had been painted, twenty years 
 previously, by her father. 
 
 Margaret's eldest sister Yolante survived her two years ; 
 she had a beautiful daughter, called Margaret of Anjou the 
 younger. Maria Louisa, Napoleon's empress, possessed her 
 breviary, in which there is one sentence supposed to have been 
 written by the once beautiful, powerful, and admired Margaret, 
 Queen of England — 
 
 " Vanitc des vanitcs, tout la vanifc .'"' 
 " Vanity of vanities, all is vanity !" 
 
 'ilO-ifC3\i' 
 
 Th^above autograph of Margaret of Anjou is in the Regis- 
 ter o^CoUection entitled Sceau x., vol. v., p. 183, in the MSS. 
 Royal Lib., Paris. 
 
1436.] 
 
 ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. 
 
 18^ 
 
 Queen Elizabeth Woodville. 
 
 ELIZABETH WOODVILLE, 
 
 QUEEN CONSOKT OF EDWARD IV. 
 
 Jacquetta of Luxemburg, the fair young widow of llie old 
 warlike Duke of Bedford, took for her second spouse his fa- 
 vorite knight, the brave and handsome Sir Richard Woodville, 
 when she came to England in 1435 to claim her dower. The 
 time of the birth of her eldest child Elizabeth, the issue of 
 marriage kept secret for fear of Parliament, probably occurred 
 in 1436. The matter burst out with great scandal the year 
 after. Sir Richard Avas arrested and imprisoned in 1437 ; but 
 as the king's mother had married in lower degree to Owen 
 Tudor, the young king was glad to pardon the second lady in 
 his realm, as an excuse for showing mercy to his dying queen- 
 mother, Jacquetta's knight was therefore pardoned and sent 
 home. They settled very happily at Grafton Castle, where 
 
184 QUEENS OF ENGLAND, [14G4. 
 
 they became the parents of a large family of handsome sons 
 and beautiful daughters, among whom Elizabeth was fairest 
 of the fair. 
 
 The Duchess of Bedford kept the rank of the king's aunt. 
 His royal mother had died miserably in 1437, as shown in her 
 life. Duchess Jacquetta, on occasions of ceremony, was the 
 first lady in the laud until the marriage of the king. Her 
 daughter Elizabeth took high rank among the maids of honor 
 of Margaret of Anjou, and was the belle of her court, as two 
 letters extant from Richard Duke of York and his friend the 
 Earl of Warwick prove, recommending a Welsh hero, one of 
 their knights-marshal. Sir Hugh Johns, as a husband, they 
 dwell on his great love inspired by her beauty and sweet man- 
 ners ; the letters show familiar acquaintance with Elizabeth, 
 but they were of no avail. The court beauty had no fortune 
 but her face, the Welsh champion none but his sword. She 
 made a better match the same year with the heir of Lord Fer- 
 rers of Groby, John Gray, rich, valiant, and years younger 
 than the rejected Sir Hugh. Lord Ferrei's was possessor of 
 the ancient domain of Bradgate, which was afterward to de- 
 rive lustre as the birthplace of his descendant. Lady Jane Grey. 
 Elizabeth was appointed one of the four ladies of the bed- 
 chamber to Margaret of Anjou. John Gray held military 
 command in the queen's army. His death left Elizabeth with 
 two infant sons, in 1460. 
 
 Rancor so deep pursued the memory of John, Lord Gray, 
 that his harmless infants, Thomas and Richard, were deprived 
 of their inheritance of Bradgate. Elizabeth herself remained 
 mourning and destitute at Grafton the first two years of Ed- 
 ward IV.'s, reign. Hearing that the young king was hunting 
 in the neighborhood of her mother's dower-castle at Grafton, 
 Elizabeth waited for him beneath a noble tree known in the 
 traditions of Northamptonshire as " the queen's oak," holding 
 a fatherless boy in either hand ; and when Edward, who must 
 have been well acquainted with her previously at the English 
 court, paused to listen to her, she threw herself at his feet, and 
 pleaded for the restoration of her children's lands. Her down- 
 cast looks and mournful beaut, not only gained her suit, but 
 the heart of the conqueror. He was unwilling to make her 
 his queen, but she left him to settle the question ; knowing 
 that he had betrayed others, her aflfections still clave to the 
 memory of the husband of her youth. Her indifference in- 
 creased the love of the young king. The struggle ended in his 
 oflTering her marriage, which took place May 1, 1464. The mar- 
 riage <rave great offense to the mother of Edward IV. This 
 
1404] ELIZABETH WUODVILLE. 185 
 
 lady, who, before the falP of her husband, Richard Duke of 
 York, at Wakefield, had assumed the state of a queen, had to 
 give place to the daughter of a knight. It was on Michaelmas 
 Day, 1464, that Edward IV. finally declared Elizabeth to be 
 his wedded wife, at Reading Palace. 
 
 The queen's eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was boi*n at West- 
 minster Palace about five months afterward. The royal phy- 
 sicians, by means of their foolish studies of astrology, had as- 
 sured King Edward that his expected child by his queen 
 would prove a prince. The king, who was deep in the same 
 kind of lore, had persuaded himself that his expected infant 
 would wear the crown of England. One of these physicians, 
 Dr. Dominic, obtained leave to station himself in the queen's 
 withdrawing-room, leading to her bed-chamber, in order that 
 he might be the first to carry the tidings of the heir to Ed- 
 ward IV. Hearing the child cry, he called to one of the 
 queen's ladies, asking, "What her grace had?" The ladies' 
 were not in the best humor, being unwilling to answer " only 
 a girl." So one of them replied, " Whatsoever the queen's 
 grace hath here within, sure 'tis a fool that standeth there 
 without." Poor Dr. Dominic, being much confounded by this 
 sharp answer, dared not enter the king's presence. 
 
 Elizabeth was crowned May 16, 1465, Avith great solemnity, 
 in Westminster Abbey, the young Duke of Clarence ofiiciating 
 as high-steward. Elizabeth and Warwick were on friendly 
 terms, as he stood godfather to her eldest daughter. The 
 baptism of this princess for a while conciliated her two grand- 
 mothers. Cicely, Duchess of York, and Jacquetta, Duchess of 
 Bedford, who were likewise her sponsors. The christening 
 was performed with royal pomp, and the babe received her 
 mother's name of Elizabeth — a proof that Edward was more 
 inclined to pay a compliment to his wife than to his haughty 
 mother. As prime-minister, relative, and general of Edward 
 IV., the Earl of Warwick had, from 1460 to 1465, borne abso- 
 lute sway in England ; yet Edward at that time so far forgot 
 gratitude and propriety as to ofier some personal insult to 
 Isabel, his eldest daughter, who had grown up a beauty. 
 Warwick had certainly been Tii hopes that, as soon as Isabel 
 was old enough, he would have made her his queen, a specu- 
 lation forever disappointed by the exaltation of Elizabeth ; so 
 he gave his daughter Isabel in marriage to the Duke of Clar- 
 ence, and England was soon after in a state of insiirrection. 
 As popular fury was especially directed against the queen's 
 family, the Woodvilles were advised to retire for a time. 
 
 The first outbreak of the muttering storm was a rebellion 
 
186 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1470. 
 
 in 1468, in Yorkshire, under a freebOoter called Robin of Red- 
 esdale, declared by some to have been a noble, outlawed for 
 the cause of the Red Rose. The murder of the queen's father 
 and brother followed in 1469. When the king advanced to 
 suppress these outrages, he was seized by Warwick and his 
 brother Montague, and kept at Warwick Castle, where an ex- 
 periment was tried to shake his affection to Elizabeth by the 
 insinuation that her whole influence over him proceeded from 
 her mother's skill in witchcraft. The Yorkist king escaped 
 speedily to Windsor, and was soon once more in his metrop- 
 olis, which was perfectly devoted to him, and where, it ap- 
 pears, his qeeen had remained in security during these alarm- 
 ing events. Again England was his own ; for Warwick and 
 Clarence, in alarm at his escape, betook themselves to their 
 fleet, and fled. Then the queen's brother, Anthony Woodville, 
 intercepted and captured the rebel ships, but not that in which 
 Warwick and Clarence, with their families, were embarked, 
 which escaped with difficulty to the coast of France. The 
 queen was placed by the king in safety in theToAver, before he 
 marched to give battle to the insurgents. She was the moth- 
 er of three girls, but had not borne heirs-male to the house of 
 York. Edward IV. narrowly escaped being once more thrown 
 into the power of Warwick, who had returned to England ; 
 but being warned by his faithful sergeant of minstrels, Alex- 
 inder Carlile, he fled half dressed from his revolting troops in 
 the dead of night, and embarked at Lynn with a few faithful 
 friends. Elizabeth was thus left alone, with her mother, to 
 bide the storm. She was resident at the Tower, Avhere her 
 party still held Henry VI. prisoner. While danger was yet 
 at a distance, the queen's resolutions Avere remarkably valiant; 
 yet the very day that Warwick and Clarence entered Lon- 
 don, she betook herself to her barge, and fled up the Thames 
 to Westminster — not to her own palace, but to a strong 
 gloomy building called the Sanctuary, which occupied a space 
 at the end of St. Margaret's church-yard. Here she regis- 
 tered herself, her mother, her three little daughters — Elizabeth, 
 Mary, and Cicely, with the faithful Lady Scrope, her attendant, 
 as- sanctuary-woman ; and in this dismal place, November 1, 
 1470, the long-hoped-for heir of York Avas born. The queen Avas 
 most destitute; but Thomas Milling, abbot of Westminster, 
 sent various conA'eniences from the abbey close by. Mother 
 Cobb, resident in the Sanctuary, charitably assisted the dis- 
 tressed queen, and acted as nurse to the little prince. Nor 
 did Elizabeth, in this fearful crisis, Avant friends ; for Master 
 Serigo, her physician, attended herself and her son; Avhile a 
 
1471. J 
 
 ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. 
 
 187 
 
 faithful butcher, Jolin Gould, prevented the whole Sanctuary 
 party from being starved into surrender. The little prince 
 was baptized, soon after his birth, in the abbey, with no more 
 ceremony than if he had been a poor man's son. 
 
 The Sanctuary at Westminster. 
 
 Early in March the queen was cheered by the news that her 
 husband had landed, and soon after, that his brother Clarence 
 had forsaken Warwick. The metropolis opened its gates to 
 Edward IV., who hurried to the Sanctuary to embrace his 
 wife and new-born son. The very morning of this joyful meet- 
 ing, Elizabeth, accompanied by her royal lord, left Westmin- 
 ster Palace, but soon after retired to the Tower of London, 
 while her husband gained the battles of Barnet and Tewkes- 
 bury. The news of his success had scarcely reached her, be- 
 fore the Tower was threatened with storm by Falconbridge ; 
 but her valiant brother Anthony Woodville being there, she, 
 relying on his aid, stood the danger this time without running 
 away. 
 
 After Edward IV. had crushed rebellion by almost exter- 
 minating liis opponents, he turned his attention to rewarding 
 
188 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1477. 
 
 the friends to whom he owed his restoration, and bestowed 
 princely gratuities on those humble friends who had aided 
 " his Elizabeth," as he calls her, in that fearful crisis. 
 
 When Edward IV. fled in the preceding year from En- 
 gland, he landed with a few friends at Sluys, the most disti*essed 
 company of creatures ever seen ; for he pawned his military 
 cloak, lined with marten fur, to pay the master of his ship, 
 and was put on shore in his waistcoat. The Lord of Grauthuse 
 received, fed, and clothed him, lending him besides money and 
 ships, without which he would never have been restored to 
 his country and queen. Edward invited his benefactor to 
 England. Lord Hastings received him, and led him to the far 
 side of the quadrangle of Windsor Castle, to three chambers. 
 These apartments were very richly hung with cloth of gold 
 arras ; and when Grauthuse had spoken with the king in the 
 royal suite, he presented him to the queen's grace, they then 
 ordered the Lord-Chamberlain Hastings to conduct him to 
 his chamber, where supper was ready for him. After refresh- 
 ment, the king had him brought immediately to the queen's 
 own withdrawing-room, where she and her ladies were play- 
 ing with little balls like marbles, and some of her ladies were 
 playing with nine-pins. Also King Edward danced with Eliza- 
 beth, his eldest daughter. In the morning the king came into 
 the quadrant, the prince also, borne by his chamberlain, called 
 Master Yaughan, bade the Lord Grauthuse welcome. The 
 iimocent little prince, afterward the unfortunate Edward V., 
 was then only eighteen months old. Then the queen ordered 
 a grand banquet in her own apartments, at Avhich her mother, 
 her eldest daughter, the Duchess of Exeter, the king, and the 
 Lord of Grauthuse all sat with her at one table. 
 
 Elizabeth, in January, 1477, presided over the espousals of 
 her second son, Richard Duke of York, with Anne Mowbray, 
 the infant heiress of the duchy of Norfolk. St. Stephen's chap- 
 el, Westminster, where the ceremony was performed, was 
 splendidly hung with arras of gold on this occasion. The 
 queen led the little bridegroom, who was not live, and her 
 brother. Earl Rivers, led the baby bride, scarcely three years 
 old. They afterward all partook of a rich banquet, laid out in 
 the Painted Chamber. Soon after this infant marriage, all 
 England Avas startled by the strange circumstances attending 
 the death of the Duke of Clarence. The queen had been 
 cruelly injured by Clarence. Her father and her brother had 
 been put to death in his name ; her brother Anthony, the 
 pride of English chivalry, had narrowly escaped a similar fate: 
 moreover, her mother had been accused of sorcery by his party. 
 
1483.] ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. 1S9 
 
 She did not soothe her husband's mind when Clarence gave 
 him provocation. In fact, on the first quarrel, his arrest, ar- 
 raignment, and sentence followed. He was condemned to 
 death, and sent to the Tower. In his dismal prison a butt of 
 malmsey was introduced one night, where he could have access 
 to it. The duke was found dead, with his head hanging over 
 the butt. Gloucester was certainly absent from the scene of 
 action, residing in the north. On St. George's Day succeed- 
 ing this grotesque but horrible tragedy, the festival of the 
 Garter was celebrated with more than usual pomp ; the queen 
 took a decided part in it, and wore the robes as chief lady of 
 the order. Her vanity was inflated excessively by the engage- 
 ment which the King of France had made for his son with her 
 eldest daughter. 
 
 In the last years of King Edward's life he gave the queen's 
 place in his affections to the beautiful Jane Shore, a gold- 
 smith's wife in the city, whom he had seduced from her duty. 
 His death was hastened by the pain of mind he felt at the con- 
 diact of Louis XL, who broke the engagement he had made to 
 marry the dauphin to the Princess Elizabeth of York, but an 
 intermittout fever was the cause. When expiring, he made 
 his favorites. Lords Stanley and Hastings, vow reconciliation 
 with the queen and her family. He died with great profes- 
 sions of penitence, at the early age of forty-two, April 9, 1483. 
 Excepting the control of the marriages of his daughters, his 
 will gave no authority to the queen. She was left, in reality, 
 more unprotected in her second than in her first widowhood. 
 
 The Duke of Gloucester had been very little at court since 
 the restoration. He was now absent in the north, and caused 
 Edward V. to be proclaimed at York, writing letters of con- 
 dolence so full of kindness and submission, that Elizabeth 
 thought she should have a most complying friend in him. 
 Astounding tidings were brought to the queen at midnight, 
 May 3, that the Duke of Gloucester had intercepted the young 
 king Avith an armed force on his progress to London, had 
 seized his person, and arrested her brother. Earl Rivers, and 
 her son. Lord Richard Gray. In that moment of agony she, 
 however, remembered, that while she could keep her second 
 son in safety the life of the young king was secure. With the 
 Duke of York and her daughters she left Westminster Palace 
 for the Sanctuary ; and she, and all her children and compa- 
 ny, were registered as Sanctuary persons. Dorset, the queen's 
 eldest son, directly he heard of the arrest of his brother, weak- 
 ly forsook his trust as constable of the Tower, and came into 
 sanctuary to his mother. The Archbishop of York brought 
 
100 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1183. 
 
 her n, clieorinf» iiiessagc, sent him by Lord Hastings in tlio 
 niglit. "Ah!" replied Ehzabetli, "it is he that goeth ubont 
 to destroy us." — " Madame," said tlie archbishop, "bo of good 
 eomlbrt; iftlioy crown any other king than your eUlest son, 
 whom tliey liavc with them, wc will on the morrow crown 
 his brother, whom yon have with you liere. And here is the 
 great seal, whieli in like wise as your noble Imsband gave it 
 to me, so 1 deliver it to you lor the use of your son." And 
 tluM-ewith he handed to the (|ueen the great seal, and departed 
 from her in the dawning ol"day. 
 
 With the excejjtion of the two beautiful and womanly 
 maidens, IClizabeth and C^icely, the royal I'amily were young 
 children. Thi! (jueen took with her into sanctuary l^^lizabeth, 
 seventeen years old at this time, afterward married to Henry 
 VII. Cicely was in lier lil'teenth year. These })rineesses had 
 been tlie com]).anions of their mother in 1470, when sluj liad 
 formerly sought sanctuary. Itichard, ])id<e of York, born at 
 Shrewsbury in 1472, was at this time eleven years old. Anne, 
 born in 1474, after the date of her father's will (in whicli only 
 the eldest dauglitcrs are named), was about eiglit years old. 
 Katliorine, born at Eltham about August 1479, theifc between 
 three and four years old. Uridget, born at Kltham 1480, 
 Nov. 20th, tlicn only in lier third year ; she was afterward 
 professed a mm at Daitford. 
 
 Gloucester's clijef object was to get possession of tlie Duke 
 of York, then safe with the ({ueen. As the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury was fearful lest force should be used, he went, 
 with a deputation of temporal )>eers, to persuade Elizabetli to 
 surrender her son, ui'giug " that the young king required the 
 company of his brother, bcjing melan(;holy Avithout a play- 
 fellow." To this Elizabeth rei)lied, " Troweth the ])rotector 
 — ah! pray (Jod he may prove a ])rotector! — tliat the king 
 doth hu'k a playfellow ? Can none be found to ])lay witli the 
 king but only his brother, which hath no wish to ])lay because 
 of sickness? as though ])rinces, so young as they be, could 
 not play without their peers — or cliildren could not ])lay with- 
 out their kindred, with whom (for tlie most part) they agree 
 worse than with strangers!" According to the natural Aveak- 
 ness of her cliaracter, she nevertheless yielded to importuni- 
 ty, and taking young llichard by the hand, said, " I here de- 
 liver him, and his brother's life with him, and of you I shall 
 rc(|uire them before (Jod and man. Farewell ! mine own 
 sweet son. God send you good keeping ! (Jod knovveth 
 when we shall kiss together again !" And therewith she 
 kissed and blessed him, then turned her back and wept, leav- 
 
iis;'.,| KhiZAiwvni \V(H)i)\ii,i,K. loi 
 
 iiii;- tlu> poor iiuioooiit cliiKl \viH'|>ini>; ivs t'list as liorsi>ll". Wlicii 
 iho iuvl»hishi)j) and the IdihIs had rcri'ivod tlio yoimi;' iliiUi-, 
 tliry KhI him to his imolo, who roreivi'tl him in his arms with 
 these words: "Now woloomc, my lord, with all my vt>ry 
 iii'art!" llo then took him honornhly thronj^h the city to tlu> 
 yoinii* kiny-, thon at KJy ni>nsu, and tho samo cvcnim; to tin; 
 Tower, ont of whioh tlu^y wero novor soon alivi^ thoui;h propa- 
 rations woi\t on nij^ht ami day in tho ablx^y tor tho corona- 
 tion of Kdward V. 
 
 It, is possililo that llastini;s's tloath had somo inilntMuu' in 
 tho imprndont siui'ondor of yonny; \'ork. if lOli/.ahoth had 
 any soorot joy in tho illc><;al oxootilion of hor lirothor's rival 
 and onomy, very soon slio had to lamiMit, a similar fato for that 
 dear hrolhor, and for hor son. Lord Kiohard (!ray, who woro 
 bi'hoadi'd by Sir Kichard K'adolillo, .Imio 'J Itli, whon tlu' north- 
 orn army, oonnnaiidi'd by ti>at ^cauM-al, oonunoin-od its march 
 to liondon. 
 
 When till' massacre of every friend to the rights of his 
 l)rother's children was completed, and the approach of l>Ot)0 
 dreaded northern borderers intimidatttd the Londoners, the 
 false protector entirely took oil' the mask. Unckingham in- 
 dncod Kdward l\'.'s confessor, Dr. Shaw, who was brother 
 to (lloncostor's ])artisaji the lord-mayor, to ])roach a sermon 
 against Kdward V.'s title, on pretens{> iJiat Kdwanl IV. 's be- 
 tiothment with Lady Kloaniu- JSutlor had nev«|r been dissohnul 
 by the C'hinurh. Shaw likewise in-j^c^d the immediate rocot;'- 
 iiition of the Dnke of (}|onccster as sovereis^n, pnttinu; asidi' 
 the ohildrt'n of Clarence on pretense «>f his attainder by I'ar 
 liament. h'aint acclamations oi' " Loiii;' live Kii'liard III." wi're 
 raisi'd by hiriul partisans, bnt the London cili/iais aiit;rily and 
 snllonly ilispiM-sed. ivatcliHe's forces approached Ivishopsyatis 
 on tlui L'tith, ;nid IJichard III. was proclaimed kini;'. 'Tln^ nn- 
 happy Qnoon Mli/.abi'th \\'ood\ illo and Ium' danghtei-H witness- 
 ed thi^ proclamation of the nsniper iVom tho .abbot's honso in 
 the abbey. Kichard then made his state visit to the Tower 
 and city. Klizabi^th and lu^r dam:;htors nmst perforce have 
 l)een witnesses of his coronation, .Inly 0, 1 Is;!. 
 
 Soon after, tho nsui'per, his wife, and son, now called Kd 
 ward, Prince of Wales, made a j^rand proufross to Warwiek 
 Castle. TIu» unfortnnato won.s of Kli/,abcth meantime wore 
 closi'Iy imprisoned nnder the cave of Sir Robert Urakonbury, 
 one of Ivichaitl II I. 's m)rthern commandia-s, who had boon 
 jjfiven tho lii-ntonancy, nnder the notion that h(^ wonld obey 
 implicitly the nsnrper's ord(M's. Accordingly, IMchard sent 
 one of his gentlemen of the bed-cliandier, .lohn (irticn, ordering 
 
192 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1483. 
 
 him to kill Edward IV.'s sons forthwith. Brakenbury re- 
 turned for answer "he would die first." A midnight consul- 
 tation took place between Richard III. and his master of the 
 horse, Sir James Tyrell, who left Warwick Castle August 2, 
 with commands to Brakenbury from King Richard that he 
 was to surrender the keys of the Tower to Sir James Tyrell 
 for one night. On his ride from Warwickshire the master of 
 the hoi-se was attended by two retainers, one his squire, Miles 
 Forrest, a northern champion of immense strength, the other 
 his horse-breaker, John Dighton, a big, broad, square knave. 
 Sir James had requested his own brother, Tom Tyrell, a brave 
 gentleman, to aid him, but met with positive refusal, by which, 
 if he lost the usurper's favor, he gained from his country the 
 appellation of " honest Tom Tyretl." 
 
 The three murderers reached the Tower of London after 
 dark, August 3. Sir James Tyrell demanded the Tower keys ; 
 and in the very dead of the night, when sleep weighs heaviest 
 on young eyelids, one of the Tower wardens who waited on 
 the hapless princes, Will Slaughter by name, guided the as- 
 sassins through the secret passages, which still may be traced, 
 from the lieutenant's house to the portcullis gate-way. There 
 is a little dismal bed-chamber hidden in the space between 
 that tower and the Wakefield tower, approached with wind- 
 ing stone stairs, and which has leads on the top and an ugly 
 recess in the walls, reaching to the ground and even beneath 
 it. The lends communicated by a door to the Wakefield tower 
 leaded roof, and thence to the water-stairs by a bricked-up 
 door-way, still plainly to be seen. No spot could be more 
 convenient for secret murder. Tradition has pertinaciously 
 clung to it and called this fatal prison-lodging the Bloody Tower. 
 
 Sir James Tyrell did not enter the chamber where the poor 
 victims were sleeping, but his strong rufiians crept silently in, 
 and oppressing the princes with their great strength and 
 weight, stifled them with the bed-clothes and pillows. When 
 the murders were completed, Forrest and Dighton laid out the 
 royal corpses on the bed, and invited Sir James Tyrell to view 
 their work. Tyrell ordered them to thrust them down the 
 hole in the leads, which they did, and threw heavy stones upon 
 them. Edward IV. had lately strengthened that part of the 
 Tower, little thinking the use to be made of it, as a j^oet born 
 in his time makes him say — 
 
 " I made the Tower strong ; I wist not why — 
 Knew not for whom." 
 
 When Tyrell returned the keys to the lieutenant Brakenbury, 
 
1483.] 
 
 ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. 
 
 193 
 
 the latter found his young prisoners had vanished. The mur- 
 derous trio rode back to Warwick Castle to report their doings 
 to the head assassin. Richard III. approved of every thing his 
 unscrupulous favorite and master of horse had done, except- 
 ing the disposal of his nephew's corpses. He insisted that 
 they should be raised from that niche and buried in consecra- 
 ted ground with burial service. The averseness of Sir Robert 
 Brakenbury to have aught to do with the murders, threw 
 great difficulty in the way of the usurper's commands, prompt- 
 ed by the first twinge of conscience. It is from the confes- 
 sion of Sir James Tyrell, put to death tw^enty years after for 
 conspiring with the de la Poles, that these particulars are 
 gathered, but he could not say where the poor children were 
 ultimately buried ; all he heard was that Richard III.'s orders 
 had been issued to the priest of the Tower, who had in the 
 dead of night taken the bodies whither no one knew, as the 
 old man died two or three days after. 
 
 Eilward V. From a JMS. iu the Archbisliop'a Library at Lambeth. 
 
194 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1485. 
 
 Tlie secret was not guessed for two centuries ; but when in 
 1674 Charles II. altered the White tower into a record 
 office, under the flight of stairs leading up to the beautiful Nor- 
 man chapel, was discovered a chest containing the bones of two 
 children of the age of the murdered heirs of York. The orders 
 of the usurper being fulfilled to the letter, the ground was con- 
 secrated as pertaining to the sacred place above; and deei^ly 
 secret the interment was. Charles II. had the poor remains of 
 the heirs of York buried among their ancestors in Westminster 
 Abbey, where our young readers may remark the monument 
 and inscription near Henry VII. 's chapel. 
 
 We must now return to the life of their unfortunate mother, 
 Elizabeth Woodville, Avho being in sanctuary, early heard when 
 and where her sons Avere murdered, Avhich, says Sir Thomas 
 More, struck to her heart like the sharp dart of death : she 
 swooned, and fell to the ground, where she lay long insensible. 
 After she was revived and came to her memory again, with piti- 
 ful cries she filled the whole mansion. Her breast she beat, her 
 fair hair she tore, and calling by name her sweet babes, account- 
 ed herself mad when she delivered her younger son out of sanct- 
 uary, for his uncle to put him to death. She kneeled down and 
 cried to God to take vengeance; and when Richard unexpected- 
 ly lost his only son, for whose advancement he had steeped his 
 soul in crime. Englishmen declared that the agonized mother's 
 prayer had been heard. The wretched queen's health sank 
 nnder the anguish inflicted by these murders, which had been 
 preceded by the illegal execution of her son. Lord Richard Gray, 
 and of her brother, at Pontefract. She was visited in sanctuary 
 by a i)riest-physician. Dr. Lewis, who likewise attended Mar- 
 garet Beaufort, mother to Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, 
 then an exile in Bretagne. The plan of uniting the Princess 
 Elizabeth with this last scion of the house of Lancaster, was 
 first suggested to the desolate queen by Dr. Lewis. She 
 eagerly embraced the proposition. The Duke of Buckingham, 
 having been disgusted by Richard, his partner in crime, rose 
 in arms ; but after the utter failure of his insurrection, Elizabeth 
 was reduced to despair, and finally was forced to leave sanctu- 
 ary, and surrender herself and daughters into the hands of the 
 usurper, in March. She was then closely confined, with hel' 
 daughters, in obscure apartments in the palace of Westminster. 
 From thence she wrote to her son Dorset at Paris to put an end 
 immediately to the treaty of marriage between Richmond and 
 the Princess Elizabeth. The friends who had projected the mar- 
 riage were greatly incensed ; but these steps were the evident 
 result of the personal restraint the queen was then enduring. 
 
1492.] ELIZABETH WOODVILLE. I95 
 
 The successful termination of the expedition undertaken by 
 tlie Earl of Richmond, to obtain his promised bride and the 
 crown of England, at once avenged the widowed queen and 
 her family on the usurper, and restored her to liberty after the 
 battle of Bosworth. Instead of the desijotic control of Rich- 
 ard III.'s squire Nesfield, the queen, restored to royal rank, joy- 
 fully welcomed her eldest daughter, who was brought to her at 
 Westminster from Sheriif Hutton, remaining with her till the 
 January following the battle of Bosworth, when she saw her 
 united in marriage to Henry of Richmond, the acknowledged 
 King of England. 
 
 One of Henry VH.'s first acts was to invest the mother of 
 his queen with the privileges befitting the widow of an English 
 sovereign. Unfortunately Elizabeth had not been dowered on 
 the lands anciently appropriated to the Queens of England, but 
 on those of the duchy of Lancaster. However, a month after 
 the marriage of her daughter to Henry VII. she received pos- 
 session of some of the dower-palaces, among which Farnham, 
 of 102/. per annum, was by her son-in-law added to help her 
 income. The Parliamentary Act, whereby she was deprived 
 of her dower in the preceding reign, was ordered by the judges 
 to be burnt. Much is said of her ill treatment by Henry VII. 
 However, at the very time she is declared to be in disgrace 
 for patronizing the impostor who personated the young Earl of 
 Warwick, she was chosen by the king, in preference to his own 
 beloved mother, as sponsor to his dearly-prized heir, Prince 
 Arthur. The last time the queen-dowager appeared in public 
 was in a situation of the highest dignity. At the close of the 
 year 1489 she received the French ambassador in great state ; 
 the next year Henry VII. presented her with an annuity of 
 400/. Soon after she retired to the royal apartments at Ber- 
 mondsey Abbey. 
 
 Elizabeth Woodville expired the Friday before Whitsuntide, 
 1492. Her will shows that she died destitute of personal prop- 
 erty ; but no wonder, for the great possessions of the house of 
 York were chiefly in the grasp of the old avaricious duchess. 
 Cicely of York, who survived her hated daughter-in-law sev- 
 eral years. Edward IV. had endowed his proud mother as if 
 she were a queen-dowager; while his wife was dowered on 
 property to which he possessed no real title. On Whit Sun- 
 day the queen-dowager's corpse was conveyed by water to 
 Windsor, and thence privately, as she requested, through the 
 little park, conducted unto the castle. Her three daughters, 
 the Lady Anne, tlie Lady Katherine, and the Lady Bridget 
 (the nun-princess) iVom Dartford, came by way of the Thames, 
 
196 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1492. 
 
 with many ladies. And her son, Lord Dorset, who kneeled at 
 the head of the hearse, paid the cost of the funeral. 
 
 In St. George's chapel, north aisle, is the tomb of Edward 
 IV. On a flat stone at the foot of this monument are engraven, 
 in old English characters, the words — 
 
 liing (Ebwarb ayxb l)is ^uccu, ©li^abctl) tDibtiillc. 
 
ANNE OF WARWICK. 
 
 197 
 
 Anne, Queen of Richard III. From an ancient painting on glass. 
 
 ANNE OF WARWICK, 
 
 QUEEN OF RICHARD III. 
 
 Anne of Warwick, the last of our Plantagenet queens, and 
 the first who liad previously borne the title of Princess of 
 Wales, was born at Warwick Castle, 1454. Her father, Rich- 
 ard Neville, Earl of Warwick, surnamed the King-maker, pos- 
 sessed an income of twenty-two thousand marks per annum, 
 but had no male heir, his family consisting but of two daugh- 
 ters : the eldest. Lady Isabel, was very handsome. But the 
 Lady Anne was considered the finer woman of the two. The 
 closest connection subsisted between the families of the Duke 
 of York and the Earl of AVarwick. Richard Plantagenet, 
 afterward Richard III., -was two years older than the Lady 
 
198 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1470-U71. 
 
 Aline; he was born Octobei' 2, 1452, at his father's princely 
 castle of Fotheringay. He was the youngest son of Richard, 
 Duke of York, and his duchess Cicely Neville, the Earl of 
 Warwick's aunt. The cousins, Anne of Warwick and Rich- 
 ai"d of Gloucester were companions when he was about four- 
 teen, and she twelve years old. Richard had been created 
 Duke of Gloucester, at his brother's coronation, and consigned 
 to the military tuition of the Earl of Warwick, at Middleliara 
 Castle. At the grand enthronization of George Neville, the 
 uncle of both, as Archbishop of York, Richard was a guest, 
 seated in the place of honor in the chief banqueting-room upon 
 the dais, under a canopy, Avith the Countess of Westmoreland 
 on his left hand, his sister, the Duchess of Suffolk, on his 
 right, and the noble maidens his cousins, the Lady Anne and the 
 Lady Isabel, seated opposite, near the young prince, while the 
 Countess of Warwick sat lower. Richard formed a strong 
 aflection for his cousin Anne ; but succeeding events proved 
 that the lady did not bestow the same regard on him which 
 her sister Isabel did on his brother Clarence, nor was it to 
 be expected, considering his disagreeable person and temper. 
 As Lady Anne did not smile on her crook-backed cousin, 
 there was no inducement for him to forsake the cause of 
 his brother, King Edward. 
 
 The Earl of Warwick and the Duke of Clarence embarked 
 for Calais, Warwick's government, in 1468, where the Countess 
 of Warwick and her daughters were abiding. Clarence mar- 
 ried Isabel in the Lady-church at Calais, in the presence of the 
 countess and her daughter Anne. The Earl of Warwick, 
 accompanied by his countess and Lady Anne, returned with 
 the newly-wedded pair to England, Avhere he and his son-in- 
 law soon raised a civil war that shook the throne of Edward 
 IV. After the loss of the battle of Edgecote, the Earl of 
 Warwick escaped with his family to Dartmouth, where they 
 were taken on board the Calais fleet, of which he was master. 
 
 On the voyage they encountered the Earl Rivers, with the 
 Yorkist fleet, Avho gave Warwick's ships battle, and took most 
 of them; but the vessel escaped which contained the Neville 
 family. While it was flying from the victorious enemy a 
 dreadful tempest arose. In the midst of this, the tempest- 
 tossed bark made the ofilng of Calais ; but in spite of the dis- 
 tress on board, Vauclere, whom Warwick had left as his lieu- 
 tenant, held out the town against him and would not permit 
 the ladies to land ; he, however, sent two flagons of wine on 
 board for the Duchess of Clarence, with a private message assur- 
 ing Warwick " that the refusal arose from the townspeople," 
 
1471.] ANNE OF WARWICK. I99 
 
 and advising him to make some other port in France. The 
 Duchess of Clarence soon after gave birth, on board ship, to 
 the babe to whom had been allotted so disastrous an entrance 
 into a troublesome world, and the whole family landed safely 
 at Dieppe the beginning of May, 1470. When they were able 
 to travel, the Lady Anne, her mother and sister, attended by 
 Clarence and Warwick, journeyed across France to Amboise, 
 where they were graciously received by Louis XL, and that 
 treaty was finally completed which made Anne the wife of 
 Edward, the promising heir of Lancaster. This portion of the 
 life of Anne of Warwick is so inextricably interwoven with 
 that of her mother-in-law. Queen Margaret, that it were vain 
 to repeat it a second time. Suffice it to observe that the 
 bride was in her seventeenth, the bridegroom in his nineteenth 
 year, and that the match was one of mutual love. The prince 
 was well educated, and, moreover, eminently handsome. The 
 ill-fated pair remained in each other's company from their 
 marriage at Angers, in August, 1470, till the fatal field at 
 Tewkesbury, May 4th, 1471. It is said by some writers 
 Anne was with her husband, Edward of Lancaster, when that 
 unfortunate prince was hurried before Edward IV. after the 
 battle of Tewkesbury ; and that Richard, Duke of Gloucester, 
 was the only person present who did not draw his sword on 
 the royal captive, out of respect to the presence of ^\.nne, as 
 she was the near relative of his mother, and a person whose 
 affections he had always desired to possess. The murdered 
 Prince of Wales, last scion of the royal house of Lancaster, 
 was buried the day after the battle of Tewkesbury, under the 
 central tower of that stately abbey. 
 
 After Margaret of Anjou was taken away to the Tower of 
 London, Clarence privately abducted his sister-in-law, under 
 the pretense of protecting her. As he was her sister's hus- 
 band, he was exceedingly unwilling to divide the united in- 
 heritance of Neville of Warwick and Montague of Salisbury, 
 which he knew must be done if his brother Gloucester carried 
 into execution his avowed intention of marrying Anne. But 
 very different was the conduct of the young widow of the 
 Prince of Wales from that described by Shakspeare. Instead 
 of acting as chief mourner to the hearse of her husband's mur- 
 dered father, she was sedulously secluding herself. Conceal- 
 ment was needful, for Anne was actually under the same at- 
 tainder in which her hapless mother and Queen Margaret 
 Avere included. Her mother thus was totally unable to pro- 
 tect her, being a prisoner in the Beaulieu sanctuary, the egress 
 from thence being securely guai'ded by the armed bands of 
 
200 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1473-147C. 
 
 Edward IV. They were away nearly two years from the 
 battle of Tewkesbury. The Duke of Gloucester at length 
 made out the disguise of his cousin, Anne of Warwick. Im- 
 mediately after this discovery he entered her in the sanctuary 
 of St. Martin's-le-Grand, and thither transferred her person. 
 The attainder hanging over her forced her to accept of this as- 
 sistance. She was afterward removed to the protection of 
 her uncle George, the Archbishop of York, and was even per- 
 mitted to visit and comfort her mother-in-law, Queen Marga- 
 ret, at the Tower. 
 
 The marriage of the Lady Anne and Richard, Duke of Glou- 
 cester, took place at Westminster, 1 473. Some illegalities were 
 connected with this ceremony, assuredly arising from the re- 
 luctance of the bride, since the parliamentary rolls of the next 
 year contain a curious act, empowering the Duke of Glouces- 
 ter " to continue the full possession and enjoyment of Anne's 
 property, even if she were to divorce him, provided he did his 
 best to be reconciled and re-married her," — ominous clauses 
 relating to a wedlock of a few months ! which proved that 
 Anne meditated availing herself of some informality in her 
 abhorred nuptials. The birth of her son Edward at Middle- 
 ham Castle, 1474, probably reconciled the unhappy Duchess 
 of Gloucester to her miserable fate. She and her consort lived 
 chiefly at Middleham Castle, in Yorkshire, an abode conve- 
 nient for the oflice borne by him as governor of the northern 
 marches. As a very active war was proceeding with Scot- 
 land, in the course of which Richard won several battles and 
 captured Edinburgh, his reluctant wife was not much troubled 
 with his company, but devoted herself to her boy, in whom all 
 her affections centered. During her abode at Middleham she 
 lost her sister the Duchess of Clarence, who died December 12, 
 1476. 
 
 The death of Edward IV. caused a great change in the life 
 of Anne. The Duke of Gloucester, who had very recently re- 
 turned from Scotland, left Anne and liis son at Middleham 
 when he departed, with a troop of horse, to intercept his 
 young nephew Edward V., on progress from Ludlow to Lon- 
 don. Richard's household-book at Middleham affords some 
 notices regarding the son of Anne of Warwick, during his fa- 
 ther's absence. GeoftVy Frank is allowed 22s. 9<:?. for green 
 cloth, and Is. Sc?. for making it into gowns for my lord prince 
 and Mr. Neville ; 5s. for choosing a king of West Witton, in 
 some frolic of rush-bearing, and 5s. for a feather for my lord 
 prince; and Dirick, shoe-maker, had 13s. Id. for his shoes; 
 and Jane Collins, his nurse, 100s. for her year's wages. There 
 
1483.] ANNE OF WAEWICK. 201 
 
 ave charges for mending his whip, 2(7., and 6s. 8d. to two of his 
 men, Medcalf and Pacok, for running on foot by the side of 
 his carriage. 
 
 Anne of Warwick arrived in London, with her son, in time 
 to share her husband's coronation, yet her arrival was but just 
 before that event, as her rich dress for the occasion was only 
 bought two days preceding the ceremony. Short time had 
 the tire-women of Anne of Warwick to display their skill in 
 the fitting of her regal robes. Sunday, July 4, Richard, who 
 had previously been proclaimed king, conducted his queen and 
 her son in great state, by water, from Baynard's Castle to the 
 Tower, where his hapless little prisoners were made to vacate 
 the royal apartments, and were consigned to a tower near the 
 water-gate, since called the bloody tower. The same day 
 Anne's only child, Edward, was created Prince of Wales. 
 The grand procession of the king and queen, and their young 
 heir, through the city, took place on the morrow, when they 
 were attended from the Tower by four thousand northern par- 
 tisans, whom the king and queen called " gentlemen of the 
 north," but who were regarded by the citizens as a suspicious 
 looking pack of vagabonds. The next day, July 5th, the coro- 
 nation of Richard III. and his queen took place, with an un- 
 usual display of pageantry, great part of which had been pre- 
 pared for the coronation of the hapless Edward V. The cham- 
 pion of England, after the coronation banquet, rode into West- 
 minster Hall, and made his challenge Avithout being gainsayed. 
 The lord-mayor served the king and queen with ipocras, wa- 
 fers, and sweet wine ; and by that time it was dark night. As 
 soon as the lights, wax-torches, came up the hall, the lords and 
 ladies went up to the king and made their obeisance. And 
 anon the king and queen rose up and went to their chambers. 
 
 From Windsor Castle the queen and Prince of Wales then 
 commenced a splendid progress, in which they were accompa- 
 nied by the Spanish ambassador, who had come to propose 
 an alliance between the eldest daughter of his sovereigns, Fer- 
 dinand and Isabella, and the son of Richard III. The queen 
 took up her abode at W.arwick Castle, the place of her birth 
 and the grand feudal seat of her father, which belonged to the 
 young Earl of Warwick (the son of her sister Isabel and the 
 Duke of Clarence), and it is especially noted that the queen 
 brought her young nephew with her, and he dined at her ta- 
 ble, where his imbecility was noted. Richard III. joined his 
 queen at Warwick Castle, Avhere they kept court with great 
 magnificence for a week. It must have been at this visit that 
 the portraits of Queen Anne, of Richard III., and their son, 
 
 I* 
 
202 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1483. 
 
 were added to the Rous roll. They are good miniatures, 
 whole lengths in water-colors. Richard III. is decidedly awi'y, 
 one shoulder higher and thicker than the other. His boy is 
 short, but holding himself in the same attitude as his sire. 
 Anne's face is wonderfully worked up, though so small. She 
 wears the curious stiflened gauze head-gear of the time, but 
 looks woful and consumptive. Her portrait, illustrating the 
 library edition of this work, is taken from another artist living 
 in her day, for it shows her in her coronation attire, a hand- 
 some young woman, iu health and content, for there is no rea- 
 son to suppose, on any evidence, that she objected to be queen. 
 As such she wears a close dress, and is without jewels, save a 
 row of large pearls round her throat: the royal mantle, with 
 its cordon, is attached to her dress. Her sceptre is a plain rod, 
 surmounted with a cross of pearls. Her hair is simply and 
 gracefully flowing, and a veil, depending from the back of her 
 head, relieves the heavy outline of the arched crown, which, 
 with all its symbolical intimations of imperial dignity, is an ill 
 exchange for the beautiful floriated circlet of our earlier 
 queens. 
 
 The court arrived at York, August 31. The recoronation 
 of the king and queen, likewise the reinvestiture of Prince Ed- 
 ward of Gloucester as Prince of Wales, took place soon after 
 at this city; measures which must have originated in the fact, 
 that the sons of Edward IV. having been put to death during 
 the northern progress of the court, the usurper considered that 
 oaths of allegiance, taken at the recoronation, would be more 
 legal than when the right heirs were alive. The overflowing 
 paternity of Richard, which, perhaps, urged him to commit 
 some of his crimes, thus speaks in his patents for creating his 
 son Prince of Wales : " Whose singular wit and endowments 
 of nature, wherewith (his young age considered) he is remark- 
 ably furnished, do portend, by the favor of God, that he will 
 make an honest man." But small chance there was of such a 
 miracle. 
 
 After the coronatiorf had been performed in York Cathedral, 
 Queen Anne walked in grand procession through the streets 
 of the city, holding her little son by the right hand ; he wore 
 the demi-crown appointed for the heir of England. Five 
 marks were paid to Michell Wharton, for bringing the prince's 
 jewels to York on this occasion. A formidable insurrection, 
 headed by the Duke of Buckingham, recalled Richard to the 
 metropolis : he left his son, for security, among his northern 
 friends, but Queen Anne accompanied her husband. If Anne 
 had oven passively consented to the unrighteous advancement 
 
1484.] ANNE OF WARWICK. 203 
 
 of her family, punishment quickly followed ; for her son, on 
 the last day of March, 1484, died at Middleham Castle. His 
 death is mentioned by the family chronicler with great mys- 
 tery, yet so as to infer that this boy, so deeply idolized by 
 his guilty father, came by his end in some sudden and awful 
 manner. His parents were not with him, but were as near as 
 Nottingham Castle when he expired. 
 
 The loss of this child, in whom all Anne's hopes and happi- 
 ness were garnered, struck to her heart, and she never again 
 knew a moment's health or comfort. Richard had no other 
 child ; his declining and miserable consort was not likely to 
 bring another ; and if he did not consider her in the way, his 
 guilty and ruffianly satellites certainly did, for they began to 
 whisper dark things concerning the illegality of the king's 
 marriage, and the possibility of its being set aside. As 
 Edward IV.'s parliament considered that it was possible for 
 Anne to divorce Richard in 1474, it can not be doubted that 
 Richard could have resorted to the same manner of getting rid 
 of her, when queen. Her evident decline, however, prevent- 
 ed Richard from giving himself any trouble regarding a di- 
 vorce ; yet it did not restrain him from uttering peevish com- 
 plaints to Rotherham, Archbishop of York, against his wife's 
 sickliness and disagreeable qualities. Rotherham, who had 
 just been released from as much coercion as a King of En- 
 gland dared oifer to a spiritual peer who had not appeared in 
 open insurrection, ventured to prophesy, from these expres- 
 sions, "that Richard's queen would suddenly depart from this 
 world." This speech got circulated in the guard-chamber, 
 and gave rise to a report that the queen, whose personal suf- 
 ferings in a protracted decline had caused her to keep her 
 chamber for some days, was actually dead. Anne was sitting 
 at her toilet, with her tresses unbound, when this strange ru- 
 mor was communicated to her. She considered it was the 
 forerunner of her death by violent means, and, in a great agony, 
 I'an to her husband, with her hair disheveled, and with sti'eam- 
 ing eyes and piteous sobs asked him, " What she had done to 
 deserve death ?" Richard soothed her with fair words, bid- 
 ding her " be of good cheer, for in sooth she had no other 
 cause." The next report which hai'assed the dying queen was, 
 that her husband was impatient for her demise, that he might 
 give his hand to his niece, the Princess Elizabeth of York. 
 This rumor had no influence on the conduct of Anne, for her 
 kindness to her husband's niece is thus mentioned by one 
 who knew them both : "The Lady Elizabeth (who had been 
 some months out of sanctuary) was, with her four younger 
 
204 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1485. 
 
 sisters, sent by her mother to attend the queen at court, at 
 the Christmas festivals kept Avith great state in Westminster 
 Hall, They were received with all honorable courtesy by 
 Queen Anne, especially the Lady Elizabeth, who ranked most 
 familiarly in the queen's favor, who treated her as a sister ; 
 but neither society that she loved, nor all the pomp and festiv- 
 ity of royalty, could cure the languor or heal the wound in the 
 queen's breast for the loss of her son." The young Earl of 
 Warwick was, after the death of Richard's son, proclaimed 
 heir to the English throne, and as such took his seat at the 
 royal table during the lifetime of his aunt, Queen Anne. As 
 these honors were withdrawn from the ill-fated boy directly 
 after her death, it is reasonable to infer that he owed them 
 to some influence she possessed with her husband, since young 
 Warwick, as her sistei^'s son, was her heir as well as his. 
 
 Within the year that deprived Anne of her only son, ma- 
 ternal sorrow put an end to her existence by a decline, slow 
 enough to acquit her husband of poisoning her — a crime of 
 which he is accused by most writers. She died at Westmin- 
 ster Palace on March 16, 1485, in the midst of the greatest 
 eclipse of the sun that had happened for many years. Her 
 funeral was most pompous and magnificent. Her husband 
 was present, and was observed to shed tears, deemed hypocrit- 
 ical by the bystanders ; but those who knew that he had been 
 brought up with Anne, might suppose that he felt some in- 
 stinctive yearnings of long companionship when he saw her 
 deposited in that grave, where his ambitious interests had 
 caused him to wish her to be. 
 
 She was interred near the altar at Westminster, not for from 
 the place where subsequently Avas erected the monument of 
 Anne of Cleves. No memorial marks the spot Avhere the bi'o- 
 ken heart of the hapless Anne of Warwick foiuid rest from as 
 much sorrow as could possibly be crowded into the brief span 
 of thirty-one years. 
 
 Groat of RicUarJ III. 
 
U75-1483.] 
 
 ELIZABETH OF YORK. 
 
 205 
 
 / 
 Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York. From their monument in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 ELIZABETH OF YORK, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF HENRY VII. 
 
 The events of Elizabeth of York's early life have already 
 been detailed in the biography of her mother, Queen Elizabetli 
 Woodville. The dauphin, Charles, heir of Louis XL, King of 
 France, was betrothed to this Princess Royal of England, 1475. 
 Although the match never took place, it secured to her a good 
 education ; she Avas taught to speak and write French well ; 
 likewise, Edward IV. sent for a scrivener from the city, Avho 
 taught the princess to write good court hand as well as him- 
 self. Moreover, the king amplified the state of his daughter's 
 establishment with a portion of the tribute Louis paid him for 
 keeping the peace ; and when the contract was ratified in 1480, 
 Elizabeth was called Madame la Dauphine, and served in great 
 state. Her warlike sire fell ill in 1483, and Louis XL, trust- 
 ing that Edward IV. would be incapacitated from invading 
 France, broke the treaty by wooing Mary of Burgundy for 
 his son. Elizabeth's father and only protector dying the en- 
 suing April, terrible reverses befell his family. 
 
 From Westminster Palace Elizabeth, her sisters, and her 
 brother Richard were hurried into sanctuary in the adjoining 
 abbey by their mother. The events that followed have been 
 narrated. How much the subsequent murders afflicted Eliza- 
 
206 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1484. 
 
 betli may be gathered from the words of the blind poet-iaureate 
 of her court, Bernard Andreas, "The love," he says, "Eliza- 
 beth bore her brothers was unheard of, and almost incredi- 
 ble." 
 
 The betrothment, privately negotiated between Elizabeth of 
 York and Henry of Richmond, by their mothers, was the first 
 gleam of comfort that broke on the royal prisoners in sanctu- 
 ary after the murder of the innocent princes in the Tower. 
 The young princess promised to hold faith with her betrothed : 
 in case of her death before her contract was fulfilled, her next 
 sister. Cicely, was to take her place. 
 
 Owing to the utter failure of Buckingham's insurrection, 
 the situation of Elizabeth of York and her mother became veiy 
 irksome. Soldiers, commanded by John Nesfield, a squire of 
 Richard III.'s guard, watched night and day round the abbey, 
 and reduced them to great distress. Thus they struggled 
 through the sad winter of 1483, but surrendered themselves in 
 March. The ]H-incess was forced to own herself the illegiti- 
 mate child of Edward IV. ; she had to accept a wretched an- 
 nuity, and as a favor, Avas permitted to contemplate the pros- 
 pect of marrying one William Stillington. She was separated 
 from her unfortunate mother when they left sanctuary, and re- 
 ceived at court by Richard III. • his queen, her near relative, 
 was kind to her. Here she found her father's old friend, Lord 
 Stanley, in an office of great authority at Westminster Palace, 
 as steward of the royal household, a place he held in the reign 
 of Edward IV. This nobleman was step-father to Henry of 
 Richmond, the betrothed husband of the Princess Elizabeth ; 
 his Avife was exiled then, in disgrace with the usur2:)er, for hav- 
 ing projected the union of her son with Elizabeth. 
 
 In fact, Margaret Beaufort had been her state governess, 
 and she had lived with her and Stanley from her earliest years. 
 Very soon the young princess began, when she found Lord 
 Stanley alone, to speak to him by the name of "Father Stan- 
 ley," and to entreat his help. Lord Stanley, scarcely then 
 well from the battle-axe blow he had shared with the oak ta- 
 ble in the Tower, at Richard III.'s terrible council of June 13, 
 was alarmed and reluctant to stir against the usurper. The 
 tears and swooning of Elizabeth at the end of her fruitless ap- 
 peal to him caused him to explain that he feared if he stirred 
 for her he should lose his life with her talking about it, and 
 that as he could not Avrite, he was not able to summon his 
 friends without leaving his court office, which would rouse the 
 tyrant's suspicions. 
 
 Elizabeth assured him of her secrecy, and said she could 
 
1484-1485.] . ELIZABETH OF YORK. 207 
 
 write for him in as good a hand as the scrivener wlio taught 
 her. Finally he came at ten that night, with his squire, Bre- 
 reton, in disguise, to the apartments allotted her at Westmin- 
 ster Palace. Elizabeth then wrote at his dictation to his broth- 
 er. Sir William Stanley, who had been her dear brother's 
 lord-steward at Ludlow, his son and heir. Lord Strange, at 
 Latham House, to Sir James and Sir Edward Stanley of Man- 
 chester, to the brave Sir Gilbert Talbot, and Sir John Savage, 
 at Sheffield Castle, telling them the time was ripe to stir and 
 rise, and to come disguised as Kendal merchants from the 
 north, to the old inn at Islington called the Eagle, where they 
 would see an eagle's foot chalked on the shutter, and he Avould 
 meet them and consult. Elizabeth having read the letters to 
 Lord Stanley, he took out his seal, carefully sealed them, and 
 consigned them to his trusty squire, Brereton, who departed 
 for Cheshire with them. 
 
 On Brereton's return the princess went with her " Father 
 Stanley" in disguise to the old suburb inn, and there they 
 found the valiant scions of Stanley, Talbot and Savage, all 
 ready to risk their lives for her if she would promise to com- 
 plete her engagement with Henry, Earl of Richmond, then an 
 exile in Brittany. Elizabeth forthwith wrote a letter to her 
 betrothed ; trusty Brereton departed with it for Rennes. 
 Henry was grandson to John of Gaunt by an illegitimate 
 wedlock, grandson of Queen Katharine of Valois, of the 
 French blood royal, and, what was better worthy attention, 
 the representative of the ancient line of British kings, a claim 
 excessively popular just then in the English southwest coun- 
 ties as well as in Wales. 
 
 Although he was in love with another young lady, and had 
 never seen the fair Elizabeth, a very favorable answer was re- 
 turned by Henry, and Brereton delivered it safely. Fortune 
 had changed once more with the fair heiress of York, her lit- 
 tle cousin, Edward of Gloucester, died a few months after the 
 murder of her loved brothers, leaving the usurper childless. The 
 queen her aunt, struck with mortal grief, was evidently droop- 
 ing to the tomb ; and all her uncle's hateful partisans loudly 
 declared that their royal master ought to wed his niece, Anne 
 of Warwick did not believe that Elizabeth wished for this dis- 
 posal of her hand, although she herself knew the report, and 
 dreaded lest she should be murdered to leave her husband free. 
 Yet she sent for her niece in early spring, 1484-5, and gave 
 her the place of honor at her side at a grand festival. Before 
 March was spent, the unfortunate queen of Richard expired. 
 
 The indignation of the English people kept Richard HL 
 
208 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. . [1485-148G. 
 
 from outi'aging humanity by forcing an early marriage with 
 his niece. By way of punishment for her aversion he shut her 
 up with Clarence's son, the young Earl of Warwick, in the 
 strongest and most gloomy castle in Yoi-kshire, Sherifi" Hut- 
 toO, No one in London knew Avliere she was. However, 
 the population of the adjacent counties thronged the gates of 
 Sheriif Hutton, with the news of Richard III.'s fall, and the 
 heiress of York was brought to Leicester the very evening of 
 the victory. Elizabeth witnessed the entry of the triumphant 
 army. She met the corpse of the tyrant on its way toward 
 the Gray Friars he had founded, to be interred. She is said 
 to have exclaimed, "Uncle, how like you now the slaughtering 
 of ray brethren dear ?" She found herself surrounded by her 
 friends of the house of Stanley, and in a day or two was con- 
 ducted to her mother, and installed in the royal apartments 
 of Westminster Palace. 
 
 Henry, on the day of the victory, September 3, had been 
 crowned with Richard IH.'s crown, found in a hawthorn bush 
 on Bosworth field, and greeted by the acclamations of the 
 Avhole army as Henry VII. He arrived in London a few days 
 after, and renewed at the Bishop of London's palace at St. 
 Paul's, before the privy council, his vow to marry Elizabeth 
 of York. But his coronation took place, October 30, without 
 any allusion to the title he derived from her, and from that 
 hour the discontents of the Yorkists began. Elizabeth suffer- 
 ed no little uneasiness, as well as the people. One thing Avas 
 certain, rendering royal marriages and festivals nearly impos- 
 sible ; there was not one penny in the royal purse. Near 
 Christmas the House of Commons, when granting Henry VII. 
 the usual royal supplies called tonnage and poundage, added 
 a petition, " that he would please to take the Princess Eliza- 
 beth to wife," and when this was read every member of the 
 assembled houses of Parliament rose and bowed to the king, 
 who answered " that he was most willing so to do." From 
 that day Elizabeth of York was treated as queen-consort, but 
 she never had the slightest recognition as queen-regnant, 
 either by her husband, his government, or even by the warm- 
 est partisans of the line of York. 
 
 Henry and Elizabeth were married January 18, 1485-6, at 
 Westminster Abbey, by their kinsman. Cardinal Bourchier, 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, " by whose hand," says a quaint 
 chronicler, " was first tied together the sweet posy of the red 
 and white roses." ' Elizabeth, very soon after the raarriage, 
 gave hopes of off'spring that would unite the rival lines. She 
 retired to the city of Winchester to pass the summer, holding 
 
1487.] ELIZABETH OF YOllK. 209 
 
 her court there, surrounded by her sisters, her motlier, and 
 her mother-in-law, Margaret of llicljmoud, for whom she ap- 
 pears to have cherished the greatest esteem. Henry VII. 
 wished his wife to give birth to his heir in the castle, because 
 tradition declared that it was built by King Artliur, his ances- 
 tor. Prince Arthur Tudor was born there, September 20, 
 1486. The health of "the queen, it appears, was always deli- 
 cate, and she sufiered much from an ague that autumn. Her 
 mother-in-law. Lady Margaret, busied herself greatly at this 
 time ; for, besides regulating the etiquette of the royal lying- 
 in chamber, she likewise arranged the pageantry of the young 
 prince's baptism. Elizabeth of York had the satisfaction of 
 seeing her mother distinguished by the honor of standing god- 
 mother for this precious heir. The king, according to ancient 
 custom, sat by the queen's bedside, ready to give with her 
 their united blessing as the concluding ceremony of the royal 
 baptism, which took place in Winchester Cathedral. 
 
 The next year a relaellion broke out in behalf of the Earl of 
 Warwick, avIio was personated by a youth named Lambert 
 Simnel. It was but a few months since the queen and young 
 Warwick had been companions at Sheriff Hutton : the public 
 had since lost sight of him, and this rebellion was evidently 
 got up to make the king own what had become of him. He 
 had been kept quietly in the Tower, from whence, to prove the 
 imposition of Lambert Simnel, he was now brought in grand 
 procession through the city to Shene, where he had Uved in 
 the life of Edward IV,, with Elizabeth of York, and her young 
 brothers and sisters. The queen received him with several no- 
 blemen, and conversed with him ; but he was found to be very 
 stupid, not knowing the difference between the commonest ob- 
 jects. Henry very magnanimously forgave Lambert Simnel, 
 and with good-humored ridicule promoted him to be turnspit 
 in his kitchen at Westminster, and afterward made him one of 
 his falconers. This act of grace was in honor of Elizabeth's 
 approaching coronation. She preceded the king to London, 
 and on the 3d of November, 1487, she sat in a window at St. 
 Mary's hospital, Bishopgate Street, in order to have a view of 
 his triumphant entry into themetroi)olis,in honor of the victo- 
 ry of Stoke over the rebels. 
 
 The queen then Avent with Henry to their palace at Green- 
 wich. On the Friday preceding her coronation she went from 
 London to Greenwich, royally attended on the broad-flowing 
 Thames to the Tower, where, when she landed, the king re- 
 ceived her. The Londoners were anxious to behold her in her 
 royal apparel. She must have been well worth seeing : she 
 
210 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1495. 
 
 bad not completed her twenty-second year, her figure was tall, 
 elegant, and majestic, her complexion brilliantly fair. The roy- 
 al apparel consisted of a kirtle of white cloth of gold, dam- 
 asked, and a mantle of the same, furred with ermine, finished 
 with rich knobs of gold and tassels. On her fair yellow hair, 
 hanging at length down her back, she wore a crest of gems, 
 and a rich croAvn. Thus attired, she quitted her chamber of 
 state, her train borne by her sister Cicely, who was still fairer 
 than herself. The king resolved that Elizabeth should pos- 
 sess the public attention solely that day : he therefore ensconsed 
 himself in a closely-latticed box, erected between the altar and 
 the pulpit in Westminster Abbey, where he remained with his 
 mother, hidden during the whole ceremony. The queen's 
 mother was not present, but her sou Dorset, who had under- 
 gone imprisonment in the Tower on suspicion during the Earl 
 of Lincoln's revolt, was liberated, and permitted to assist at 
 his sister's coronation. November, 1489, previously to the 
 birth of her daughter Margaret, the queen performed the cer- 
 emony of taking to her chamber at Westminster Palace, which 
 was partly a retigious service. The royal infant was born No- 
 vember 29th. She was named Margaret, after the king's moth- 
 er, and that noble lady, as godmother, presented the babe with 
 a silver box full of gold pieces. At the christening festival, 
 a play was performed before the king and queen in the white 
 hall of Westminster Palace. The queen's second son, Henry, 
 afterward Henry VIH., was born at Greenwich Palace, June 
 28, 1491. He was remarkable for his great strength and ro- 
 bust health from his infancy. During the retirement of the 
 queen to her chamber previously to the birth of her fourth 
 child, the death of her mother, EHzabeth Woodville, occurred: 
 the royal infant proving a girl, was named Elizabeth, in mem- 
 ory of its grandmother. 
 
 Toward the close of 1492 commenced the rebellion in behalf 
 of Perkin Warbeck, who personated Richard, Duke of York, 
 the queen's brother, second son of Edward IV. and Elizabeth 
 Woodville. The remaining years of the century were involved 
 in great trouble to the king, the queen, and the whole coun- 
 try ; the lord-chamberlain, Sir William Stanley (brother to the 
 king's father-in-law), was executed, with little form of justice. 
 The bodies of the queen's brothers were vainly sought for at 
 the Tower, in order to disprove the claims of the impostor ; 
 and when the queen's tender love for her own family is re- 
 membered, a doubt can not exist but that her mental suflTerings 
 were acute at this crisis. 
 
 Elizabeth was in 1495 so deeply in debt, that her consort 
 
1495-1499.] ELIZABETH OF YORK. 211 
 
 louud it necessaiy, after she had pawned her plate for 500/., 
 to lend her 2000/. to satisfy her creditors. Whoever examines 
 the privy-purse expenses of this queen will find that her life 
 was spent in acts of beneficence to the numerous claimants of 
 her bounty. She loved her own sisters ; they were destitute, 
 but she could not bear that princesses of the royal line of York 
 should be wholly dependent on the English noblemen (who 
 had married them dowerless) for the food they ate and the 
 raiment they wore; she allowed them all, while single, an 
 annuity of 50/. per annum for their private expenses, and paid 
 to their husbands amiuities for their board of 120/. each, be- 
 sides perpetual presents. In her own person she was econom- 
 ical: when she needed pocket-money, sums as low as 4s, 6d. 
 at a time were sent to her from her accountant, Richard 
 Decons, by one of her ladies, to put in her purse. Then her 
 gowns were mended, turned, and new-bodied ; they were 
 newly-hemmed when beaten out at the bottom, for which her 
 tailor was paid 2d. She wore shoes which only cost 12(7., 
 with latten or tin buckles ; but the rewards she proffered to 
 her poor affectionate subjects, who brought her trifling offer- 
 ings of early peas, cherries, chickens, bunches of roses, and 
 posies of other flowers, were very high in proportion to what 
 she paid for her own shoes. 
 
 The royal children were I'eared at Shene. The queen lost 
 her little daughter Elizabeth in September, 1495: this infant, 
 if her epitaph may be trusted, was singularly lovely in person. 
 There was no peace for England till after the execution of the 
 adventurous boy who took upon himself the character of the 
 queen's brother. For upward of two years Henry VII. 
 spared the life of Perkin, but, inspired with a spirit of restless 
 daring, which showed as if he came " one way of the great 
 Plantagenets," this youth nearly got possession of the Tower, 
 and implicated the unfortunate Earl of Warwick, his fellow- 
 captive, in his schemes. Perkin, after undergoing many deg- 
 radations, was hanged at Tyburn, November 16, and the less 
 justifiable execution of the Earl of Warwick followed. This 
 last prince of the name of Plantagenet was beheaded on Tower 
 Hill, November 28, 1499. 
 
 A dreadful plague broke out in England after this event, 
 when Henry VII., fearing lest the queen should be among its 
 victims, took her out of the country, in May, to Calais for 
 more than a month. She entertained the Archduke Philip of 
 Austria most royally while she remained at Calais. A mar- 
 riage between her beautiful little daughter Mary, and Charles, 
 afterward the great Emperor Charles V., was agreed upon 
 
212 QUEENS UF ENGLAND. [1502. 
 
 at this time, and the marriage treaty between Arthur, Prince 
 of Wales, and the youngest daughter of Spain, Katharine of 
 Arragon, was concluded. The following January the queen 
 presided at the betrotliment of her eldest daughter Margaret 
 with James IV. of Scotland, performed in her palace and 
 chapel of Shene, and publicly celebrated and announced at St. 
 Paul's Cathedral. Arthur, Prince of Wales, died on the 2d of 
 April, at Ludlow, within five months of his marriage to 
 Katharine of Arragon. Henry and Elizabeth were at Green- 
 wich Palace when the news arrived of their heavy loss. The 
 king's confessor was deputed by the privy council to break 
 the sad news to him. Before his usual time the priest knocked 
 at the king's chamber door, and when admitted he requested 
 all present to quit the room, saying in Latin, as he approached, 
 "If we receive good from the hand of God, shall we not 
 patiently sustain the ill he sends us?" — "He then showed his 
 grace that his dear son Arthur was departed to God. When 
 the king understood those sorrowful heavy tidings, he sent 
 for the queen, saying, ' that he and his wife would take their 
 painful sorrow together.' After she was come and saw the 
 Idng her lord in his deep grief, she with pious words besought 
 him that he would, after God, consider the weal of his own 
 noble person, of his realm, and of her. ' And,' added the 
 queen, ' remember that my lady, your mother, had never no 
 more children but you only, yet God by his grace has ever 
 preserved you, and brought you where you are now. Over 
 and above, God has left you yet a fair prince and two fair 
 princesses, and God is still where he was, and we are both 
 young enough. As your grace's wisdom is renowned all 
 over "Christendom, you must now give proof of it by the man- 
 ner of taking this misfortune.' " 
 
 In August, 1502, Elizabeth made a progress toward the 
 borders of Wales, to visit and ofter at Arthur's tomb. Her 
 accounts at this time show tender remembrances of her fam- 
 ily ; she clothed an old woman who had been nurse to her 
 brother, Edward V., and rewarded a man who had shown 
 hospitable attention to her uncle Earl Rivers, in his distress at 
 Pontefract, just before his execution. The queen's seventh 
 confinement was expected in February, 1502-3. The accouche- 
 ment was to take place at the royal apartments of the Tower of 
 London, and all things were prepared there for her reception. 
 
 After Christmas the queen was with her ladies rowed by 
 her bargeman, Lewis Walter, and his watermen, in a great 
 boat from Richmond to Hampton Court. She stayed there 
 eight days. Hampton Court was a favorite residence of 
 
1502-1503.] ELIZABETH OF YORK. 213 
 
 Elizabeth of York, long before Cardinal Wolsey had possession 
 of it, for in the spring of this year there is a notation that she 
 was residing there. She was, with her ladies, finally rowed 
 by Lewis Walter and his crew from RichmoTid to the Tower, 
 very late in January. Her finances were low, for she borrow- 
 ed 10/. of one of the king's gentlemen-ushers, in order to pay 
 the officers of the Mint their fees, which they craved as cus- 
 tomary on account of a royal residence at the Tower. 
 
 On Candlemas Day, February 2, the queen brought into the 
 world a princess, who was named Katherine. The fatal symp- 
 toms which threatened Elizabeth's life afterward must have 
 been wholly unexpected, since the physician on whom the king 
 depended for her restoration to health was absent at his 
 dwelling-house beyond Gravesend. The king sent for this 
 person, but it was in vain that Dr. Hallyswurth traveled 
 through the night, with guides and torches, to the royal 
 patient in the Tower : the fiat had gone forth, and the gentle, 
 the pious Elizabeth expired February 11, 1502-3, the day she 
 completed her thirty-seventh year. The king was overwhelm- 
 ed with grief and consternation ; he retired into the deepest 
 seclusion, permitting no one to speak to him on any business 
 whatsoever. When the news of Elizabeth's decease spread 
 through the city the utmost sorrow was manifested among all 
 ranks of her subjects. The bells of St. Paul's tolled dismally, 
 and were answered by those of every church and religious 
 house in the metropolis or its neighborhood. Meantime the 
 queen was embalmed at the Tower. The day after her demise 
 being Sunday, her corpse was removed from the chamber 
 where she died to the chapel within the Tower, under the 
 stej3S of which then reposed, unknown to all, the bodies of her 
 murdered brothers, Edward V. and Richard, Duke of York. 
 
 On the twelfth day after the queen's death her corpse was 
 put in a carriage covered with black velvet, with a cross of 
 white cloth of gold. An image exactly representing her was 
 placed in a chair above in her rich robes of state, her crown 
 on her head, her hair about her shoulders, her sceptre in her 
 right hand, her fingers well garnished with rings and precious 
 stones, and at each end of the chair was a gentlewoman kneel- 
 ing on the coffin, which was in this manner draAvn by six 
 horses, trapped Avith black velvet, from the Tower to West- 
 minster Abbey, when the grave being hallowed by the Bishop 
 of London, the body was placed in it. 
 
 Henry VII. survived his consort seven years : his character 
 deteriorated after her loss. The active beneficence of the roy- 
 al Elizabeth had formed a counteractinc: influence to his avari- 
 
214 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1509. 
 
 cious propensities, since it was after her death he became no- 
 torious for his rapacity and miserly habit of hoarding money. 
 He died in the spring of 1509, like his ancestors worn down 
 with premature old age, and was laid by the side of his queen 
 in the magnificent chapel at Westminster Abbey which bears 
 his name. 
 
liATHAEINE OF ARRAGON. 
 
 215 
 
 Queen Katharine. From a miniature by nolbeiii. 
 
 KATHARINE OF ARRAGON, 
 
 FIRST QUEEN CONSORT OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 • Isabel, queen-regnant of Castile, and Ferdinand, King of 
 Arragon, married in 1469. These sovereigns, though eacli 
 governing independently, allied their forces to wrest Granada 
 from the infidel Moors. The siege was tedious, and the queen, 
 expecting an increase to her family, wished to spend Christ- 
 mas at Toledo. On her way thither several of the strong- 
 liolds of the Moors surrendered to her. At Alcala des Henares 
 she tarried perforce, and there brought forth her youngest 
 daughter. The little infanta was named Katharine, and in a 
 few weeks accompanied her royal mother back to the siege 
 
216 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1494-1501. 
 
 of Granada, where Isabel always was attended by the rest of 
 her children. All had nearly been destroyed by a furious 
 sally of the Moors, who fired the Spanish camp, and overthrew 
 the tents of the royal children. Katharine being then a baby, 
 was with difficulty saved. 
 
 It was from Granada, the bright home of her childhood, that 
 Katharine of Arragon derived her device of the pomegranate. 
 The city was named from that fruit being its produce. Pome- 
 granates were the armorial bearings of its Moorish kings. 
 Katharine, too, derived from the pomegranate her motto, Not 
 for my croion, for the crown of the pomegranate is worthless, 
 and always thrown away. How oft must Katharine have re- 
 membered the glorious Alhambra of Granada, with its pome- 
 granates and myrtles, when drooping Avith ill-health and ill- 
 treatment under the grey skies of the island to Avhich she was 
 transferred. Her betrothment to Arthur, Prince of Wales, 
 eldest son of Elizabeth of York and Henry VII., took place 
 1494. The young spouses were permitted to correspond for 
 the sake of cultivating mutual affection and improving their 
 Latinity. Some pretty letters in that language are extant 
 from both. 
 
 Katharine embarked at Coruuna August 1*7, 1501, with her 
 governess, a sage and noble Avidow, Donna Elvira Manuel, 
 four young Spanish ladies, and a train of lords and ecclesias- 
 tics. So disastrous was the voyage, so often Avas the ship 
 beaten back, that Plymouth Avas not seen until October 2. 
 Prince Arthur Avas summoned from LudloAV, and set out Avith 
 his father to meet the bride on her progress from the Avest of 
 England. The English populace were greatly astonished at 
 the large round hats Avorn by Katharine and her donnas Avhen 
 they made their equestrian public entry, a fashion followed in 
 England for many years. On the marriage morning, Novem- 
 ber 14, after the ceremony, Arthur endoAved the princess with 
 one-third of his revenues at the door of St. Paul's Cathedral. 
 
 The English ladies Avere greatly surprised at Katharine's 
 dress. At her bridal she Avore upon her head a coif of Avhite 
 silk, Avith a scarf bordered Avith gold, and pearls, and precious 
 stones, five inches and a half broad, Avhich veiled great part of 
 her visage and her person. This Avas the celebrated Spanish 
 ■ lantilla. "Her gown was very large, both the sleeves and 
 also the body had many plaits ; and beneath the waist certain 
 round hoops, bearing out the gown from the Avaist downward." 
 Such Avas the first arriv.al of the farthingale in England, revived 
 at times as hoop petticoats and crinolines. 
 
 In the elaborate pageantry the princely pair were very pret- 
 
1503.] KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 217 
 
 tily allegorizod. She as " my Lady Hesperus," and he as " the 
 star Arcturus," from which the Celtic name of Arthur is de- 
 rived. 
 
 After the tournaments and pageants were finished, Henry 
 VII. dismissed all the Spanish retinue, but Donna Elvira and 
 two or three maids of honor. Queen Elizabeth conducted tlie 
 Prince and Princess of Wales to her own dower-palace of Bay- 
 nard's Castle, made as comfortable as an abode on Thames bank 
 could be in a rainy November. Soon after the prince must 
 have taken there his fatal intermittent fever. Very ghastly 
 does he look in his marriage portrait byMabuse, very thin-faced 
 and pallid, with rings of liglit yellow hair, not set off by his 
 bridal dress of white satin. His features are noble and regular, 
 though bony. Prince Arthur had completed his fifteenth year 
 on the 20th of September ; Katharine wanted a month of six- 
 teen at the marriage. Their court was kept at Baynard's Cas- 
 tle until near Shrovetide, when they traveled to Ludlow Castle, 
 Edward V.'s former residence. They bad only a Lent reign 
 in their Welsh principality, for the prince expired, April 2, 
 1502, rather unexpectedly, although he had been long ill and 
 drooping, indeed never sti'ong since his birth, for he was a 
 seven-months' child. He left a will, endowing his sister Mar- 
 garet, just married to James IV. of Scotland, with all his per- 
 sonals, even his clothes, leaving not the least memorial, not even 
 a ring or a jewel, to his nominal- wife. 
 
 Elizabeth of York, though cast down with grief for the loss 
 of her eldest son, had sympathy for poor Katharine, left deso- 
 late where all was foreign to her. The good queen sent for 
 her to London, having had her own litter lined with deep 
 mourning, and in this hearse-like vehicle Katharine was carried 
 to that ancient building looking down upon Twickenham and 
 Richmond Bridge, called since Arragon House. This was her 
 home not only during her mourning seclusion, but until her 
 second marriage. She did not enjoy long the kind care of the 
 queen, whose death occurred early in 1503. Then poor Kath- 
 arine's troubles began in earnest, all ai'isingfrom her great dow- 
 er. It consisted of 200,000 crowns. Only one instalment had 
 been received, and until the whole was paid Henry VII. refused 
 to allow her the revenue Arthur had given at the door of 
 St. Paul's. In the course of a few months the king was desir- 
 ous of marrying her himself, a proposal which Katharine reject- 
 ed. Henry, Prince of Wales, was then proposed and accept- 
 ed by Ferdinand and Isabel, as Elvira, her governess, assured 
 them that there Avas no reason that could pi'event the princess 
 from marrying any one of Arthur's nearest relations. Katha- 
 
 K 
 
218 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1509. 
 
 vine, however, wished to return ; she had not learned English, 
 and did not approve of either offer. Her father, as she was 
 deprived of her dower, would not pay the rest of her portion. 
 Very miserably Katharine describes her poverty in England, as 
 letters extant show. She had no clothes, no means of paying 
 her servants ; neither king had pity on her. No one felt for 
 her but her mother, Queen Isabel, who, though dying, was ex- 
 ceedingly anxious to have Katharine's marriage settled with 
 Henry, Prince of Wales. Their betrothment took place when 
 Henry was fourteen, June 24, 1504. A papal bull legalized the 
 engagement, a copy of which, sealed with gold, was sent Queen 
 Isabel, then on her death-bed. Katharine's position did not 
 improve, and she was crushed with grief at the loss of her ad- 
 mirable mother. Notwithstanding her betrothment with his 
 heir, Henry VII., instigated by a bad old Spaniard, the resident 
 ambassador, Puebla, did not lose the idea of marrying her him- 
 self; he therefore kept her very poor, to compel her into giving 
 up her separate establishment and living at his table and in 
 his palace. Next spring he caused Fox, his son's tutor, to make 
 the boy protest against his betrothal with Katharine, not public- 
 ly, but in a room underground in Shene Palace. Henry VII., 
 finding Katharine averse to his suit, proposed to her sister Jo- 
 anna la Folle, queen-regnant of Castile, who inherited her moth- 
 er's realm, bat had gone mad at the death of her husband, Philip 
 the Fair. Both had visited Henry VII. at Windsor, on their 
 voyage to Spain, February, 1505-6. Ferdinand, who had to 
 govern the kingdom of his insane daughter, replied that she 
 was mad, and could marry no one. Henry VII., considering 
 this answer a political falsehood, went on with his cunning 
 schemes, until he fell mortally ill, and became convinced that 
 death would prove his only permanent engagement. Puebla 
 was exchanged, at Katharine's earnest entreaty to her father 
 for a more honorable ambassador ; and then the poor princess 
 had some months' peace. The king on his death-bed sent for 
 Katharine and Henry, and entreated them to marry as soon as 
 possible after his decease. 
 
 The Prince of Wales assured his father of his compliance, 
 adding that it was his own earnest M'ish. Henry VII. expired 
 the next day, April 22, 1 509. Margaret Beaufort, who suiwived 
 her son, acted as regent for her grandson. The king and Katha- 
 rine were married privately, that is, with only their lords and 
 ladies in attendance on them, at the Friar Observant's Church, 
 close to Greenwich Palace, June 11, 1509. Henry himself notes 
 the day in his letter to Margaret of Savoy, still extant, likewise 
 in his letter to his bride's father, announcing his happiness, add- 
 
1510.] KATHARINE OF AERAGON. 219 
 
 ing as a climax, that if " Katharine and he were still free, he 
 would choose hev for his wife before all other women." The 
 unfortunate friar Fori'est, Peto, and others belonging to the 
 Observant Church at this time, were witnesses of this royal 
 marriage, to their own great tribulation in after life. Young 
 Henry had entered his seventeenth year, he had attained his 
 majestic height, he had finished his learned education; and 
 the diflerence of years between him and a young lady of 
 tAventy-two was no longer perceptible. There is complete ev- 
 idence under his own hand that he loved Katharine, 
 
 The regency of the Lady Margaret, the king's grandmother, 
 and her life expired together, the day that Henry VIII. attain- 
 ed his eighteenth birthday, June 22. Nevertheless, this death 
 was not announced, so as to dim the splendid ceremony of the 
 coronation of Henry and his newly-wedded wife, which took 
 place June 24. 
 
 The long-disputed marriage portion was now paid by her 
 father; and in a remarkable letter to him, dwelling on her 
 married felicity, Katharine likewise mentions how happy he 
 had made her by giving her the means of paying her faithful 
 ladies their long arrears of salaries. Among these were her 
 faithful kinswoman Donna Maria de Salines, regarding whose 
 marriage portion Katharine had formerly been very anxious, 
 but a rich English noble. Lord Willoughby d'Eresby, married 
 Donna Maria without money, endowed as she was besides 
 beauty Avith many virtues, proofs of which Avill appear, before 
 this biography is closed. At present Katharine promoted her 
 to a high station in her household. 
 
 The queen took to her chatnber with the usual ceremonies 
 after Christmas, 1510, On New Year's Day she brought into 
 the world a prince Avhose birth and baptism were hailed with 
 such noisy and perpetual festivals, that in the universal uproar 
 the tender babe took cold, and died in a few Aveeks. 
 
 The robust youth of Henry VIIL was chiefly employed in 
 the violent exercises of the tilt-yard and the chase, Avhile 
 Katharine, Avho had arrived at maturer years, governed for him 
 his realms, Avhich for the first tAventy years of his life bore 
 witness by their prosperity of her beneficence. When the 
 young king thought fit to make war in France for his rights 
 in Guienne and Normandy, his queen sustained a Scottish in- 
 vasion, and repulsed it Avith as much sj^irit as Queen Philippa, 
 Flodden field, gained by .Lord Surrey, rivaled the victory at 
 Neville's cross. The young king, meantime, Avas besieging 
 towns, and gaining skirmish encounters in Picardy, in faint im- 
 itation of his great ancestor Edward III. Wolsey, the Ipswich 
 
220 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1613-1516. 
 
 butcher''s son, the politician-priest, was the favorite minister 
 both of Henry and Katharine at this stirring period. The 
 great advantage gained at Flodden, Angust, 1513, brought 
 Henry home, as the war was evidently ended. He landed pri- 
 vately at Dover the latter end of Se]>tember, and rode post, 
 incof/nito, iind surprised the queen at Richmond. The French 
 war concluded with a marriage between Louis XH. and the 
 king's beautiful young sister Mary. Katharine accompanied 
 the royal bride to Dover, October, 1514, and bade her an aifec- 
 tionate and tearful farewell; with Mary went, as attendant, 
 Anne Boleyn, then a girl. The November following the queen 
 again became the mother of a living prince, but the intant 
 died in a few days, to her infinite sorrow. Louis XH. like- 
 wise died, and his lovely bride was left a widow after eiglily- 
 two days' marriage. Li a very short time she stole a match 
 with the Duke of Suftblk at Paris, who had been sent by tlie 
 king to take care of her and lier property. All the influence 
 of Queen Katharine, who called Wolsey to her assistance, Avas 
 needful to appease the wrath of King Henry at the presump- 
 tion of his favorite. The married lovers were, however, favor- 
 ably received at Greenwich Palace by the queen, and jiublicly 
 married after the Easter of 1515. 
 
 The queen brought into the world a daughter, February 18, 
 1510. -The babe was baptized Mary, after her aunt the bride 
 of Suftblk. The new-born princess was consigned to the care 
 of an illustrious lady, nearly related to the royal family, with 
 whom Queen Katharine had early formed a tender IViendship. 
 This was the Countess of Salisbury, daughter of the unfortu- 
 nate George, Duke of Clarence. The same spring Queen 
 Katharine welcomed at her Greenwich palace Margaret 
 Tudor, Henry VHL's eldest sister, queen-mother of Scotland, 
 who brought with her Margaret Douglas, her infant daughter 
 by the Earl of Angus, whom she had married after the death 
 of James IV. 
 
 The national jealousy of the Londoners regarding foreign- 
 ers broke out into that insurrection of the ai)prentices in Lon- 
 don, which is called in our domestic history the " 111 May Day" 
 of 1517. There is no evidence that the queen imduly patron- 
 ized foreigners, yet the popular fury was directed against her 
 countrymen. The Duke of Norfork was sent to quell the ujv 
 roar. This he did with such vengeance, that great numbers of 
 the unfortunate boys who had raised the riot were soon seen 
 hanging over their masters' sign-posts. The London mothers 
 supposed all were to be immolated in the same manner. Calling 
 together all their female relatives, they went to the palace, 
 
1517.] 
 
 KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 
 
 221 
 
 and raised such a piteous wail for mercy, thattlie queen heard 
 the cry of maternal agony in the retirement of her chamber. 
 She summoned her sister-queens, Margaret of Scotland and 
 Mary of France, to aid her ; they flew with disheveled hair to 
 the king, and kneeling before him, obtained mercy for the mis- 
 guided boys. 
 
 Katharine's nephew, the eldest son of her sister Joanna, who 
 afterward made his name so illustrious as the Emperor Charles 
 v., visited England, May 26, 1517. Henry VIII. rode by 
 torch-light to Dover Castle, where he arrived in the middle 
 of the night, when the young emperor, sea-weary, was fast 
 asleep ; but being awakened with the bustle of the king's en- 
 trance into the castle, he rose and met him at the top of the 
 stairs. Charles stayed three days, when Henry and Katharine 
 embarked at Dover, the emperor having appointed a second 
 meeting with them on the opposite coast. 
 
 Their purpose in crossing the Channel was to hold that con- 
 gress with Francis I., between Ardres and Guisnes, which has 
 been called for its magnificence " the field of cloth of gold." 
 Katharine had here the satisfaction of forming an intimacy 
 with a royal lady, whose mind was a kindred one with her 
 own ; this was Claude, Queen of France, surnanied the Good. 
 
 Silver Medal of Henry VIII. 
 
222 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [i5i; 
 
 Henry VIII. From a picture by Holbein. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Before the sad record of Katharine's misery is unrolled, let 
 lis present to the reader a description of her husband, ere his 
 evil passions had marred his constitutional good humor and 
 comeliness. "His majesty is about twenty-nine years of age," 
 wrote the Venetian envoy, "as handsome as nature could form 
 him — handsomer by far than the King of France. He is ex- 
 ceedingly fair, and as well proportioned as possible. He is an 
 excellent musician and composer, an admirable horseman and 
 wrestler. He possesses a good knowledge of the French, 
 Latin, and Spanish languages, and is very devout. He is un- 
 commonly fond of the chase, and never indulges in this divei'- 
 sion without tirimr eicfht or ten horses. He takes cfreat delight 
 
1522.] KATHAKINE OF ARRAGON. 223 
 
 in bowling, and it is the pleasantest sight in the world to see 
 him engaged in this exercise, with his fair skin covered with a 
 beautifully fine shirt. He plays with the hostages of France, 
 and it is said they sport from six thousand to eight thousand 
 ducats in a day. Affable and benign, he ofi^ends no one. He 
 has often said he wished that every one was content with his 
 condition, adding, ' we are content with our islands.' " 
 
 Katharine was at this time about thirty-four. The difference 
 of years is scarcely perceptible between a pleasing woman of 
 that age, and a robust and active man of twenty-nine. In her 
 best known portrait, she appears a bowed down and sorrow- 
 stricken person, spare and slight in figure, and near fifty years 
 old. But, even if that picture of Holbein really represents 
 Katharine, it must be remembered that she was not near fifty 
 all her life ; therefore she ought not to be entirely identified 
 with it, especially as all our early historians mention her as a 
 handsome woman, and Sir John Russell, one of Henry's privy 
 council, puts her in immediate comparison with Anne Boleyn 
 and Jane Seymour, declaring she was not to be easily parallel- 
 ed when in her prime. 
 
 Although her life was self-denying and devout, Katharine 
 delighted in conversation of a lively cast; she often invited 
 Sir Thomas More to her private suppers with the king, and 
 took the utmost pleasure in his society. The celebrated Eras- 
 mus gives a brilliant list of the great and virtuous men who 
 were patronized at the English court when Katharine pre- 
 sided as queen of Henry VHI., declaring the residence of the 
 royal couple " ought rather to be called a seat of the Muses 
 than a palace ;" adding, " What household is there, among 
 the subjects of their realms, that can offer an example of such 
 united Avedlock ? Where can a wife be found better match- 
 ed with the best of husbands ?" For more than a century 
 Queen Katharine's needlework was fiimous, rich specimens of 
 which were shown in the royal apartments at the Tower. 
 
 For the first time in her life Katharine had, after her return 
 from France, manifested some symptoms of jealousy, excited 
 by Henry's admiration of Mary Boleyn. She reasoned with 
 the young lady, and brought her to confess that she had been 
 in fault. Mary directly after married William Carey. He Avas 
 a younger brother and wholly without fortune, yet he was a 
 near kinsman of King Henry by descent from the Beauforts. 
 
 The Emperor of Germany paid a long visit to her court in 
 1522. The queen received him standing at the hall door' of 
 Greenwich Palace, holding the Princess Mary by the hand. 
 Charles V. bent his knee and craved his aunt's blessing, which 
 
224 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1527-1529. 
 
 she gave him, perhaps in tlie character of mother-in-law, for 
 his ostensible errand was to betroth himself to her daughter 
 Mary, a little girl of six years old. The emperor stayed six 
 weeks in England, During his visit a bon-mot of his was cir- 
 culated at court, which obtained for himself and his aunt the 
 active enmity of Wolsey. When Charles heard of the execu- 
 tion of Buckingham, he said, in allusion to Wolsey's origin 
 and Buckingham's title, "Then has the butcher's dog pulled 
 down the fairest buck in Christendom." Katharine detested 
 the odious part Wolsey took in this judicial murder. She did 
 not conceal her opinion, which brought upon her Wolsey's 
 liatred. The war with France, which followed the emperor's 
 visit to England, occasioned the return of Anne Boleyn to her 
 native country, when she received the appointment of maid of 
 honor to Queen Katharine, of whose court she became the 
 star. 
 
 The recent passion of Henry VIII. for Mary Boleyn blinded 
 the queen to the fact that he had transferred liis love, with in- 
 creased vehemence, to her more fascinating sister. His love 
 for Anne Boleyn was nevertheless concealed even from its ob- 
 ject, till his jealousy of young Percy caused it to be suspected 
 by the world. Meantime the queen's health became delicate, 
 and her spirits lost their buoyancy. Probably the expectation 
 of her speedy demise prevented the king from taking immedi- 
 ate steps for a divorce after he had separated Anne Boleyn 
 and Lord Percy. Katharine herself thought the end of her 
 life was near. To her rival she behaved with invariable sweet- 
 ness. Once only she gave her an intimation that she was 
 aware of her ambitious views. The queen was playing at 
 cards with Anne Boleyn, when she thus addressed her: "My 
 Lady Anne, you have the good hap ever to stop at a king ; 
 but you are like others, you will have all or none." 
 
 The divorce in 1527 was the talk of every one. The king 
 and Wolsey now employed underhand expedients to prevent 
 the friendless queen's messengers from informing her relatives 
 of the predicament in which she found herself; for she made 
 no mystery of her resolution to appeal to legal means of defend- 
 ing her cause. Placing it before Bishop Fisher, she retained 
 him as her counsel, in case the ecclesiastical inquiry should 
 take place. 
 
 Long delays, however, took place before the divorce court 
 was held at Blackfriars, and the king and queen summoned to 
 attend in person, 18th of June, 1529. When the crier called, 
 " Henry, King of England, come into court," he answered, 
 "Hero," in a loud voice from under his canopy, and proceeded 
 
1529.] KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 225 
 
 to make an oration on the excellence of his wife, and his ex- 
 treme unwillingness to part from her, excepting to soothe the 
 pains and pangs inflicted on him by Iiis conscience. Then 
 "Katharine, Queen of England," was cited. She answered by 
 protesting against the legality of the court. Her name was 
 again called : she rose a second time. She took no notice of 
 the legates, but, attended by her ladies, made the circuit of the 
 court to where the king sat, and knelt down before him, say- 
 ing, "Sir, I beseech you, for all the loves there hath been bt- 
 tween us, and for the love of God, let me have some justice. 
 Take of me some pity, for I am a poor stranger, born out of 
 your dominions ; I have here no counselor, and I flee to you, 
 as to the head of justice within your realm. Alas ! alas ! I 
 take God to witness that I have been to you a true, humble, 
 and obedient wife. I have been pleased with all things 
 wherein you had delight ; I loved all those you loved, only for 
 your sake. This twenty years have I been your true wife, 
 and by me ye have had divers children, although it hath 
 pleased God to call them out of the world, which has been no 
 fault of mine. If you have found any dishonor in my conduct, 
 then am I content to depart; but if none there be, then I be- 
 seech you, thus lowlily, to let me remain in my proper state." 
 The queen rose up in tears, made a low obeisance to the king, 
 and Avalked out of court. " Madam," said Griftiths, her re- 
 ceiver-general, on whose arm she leaned, " you are called back ;" 
 for the crier made the hall ring Avith the summons, "Katha- 
 rine, Queen of England, come again into court." The queen 
 replied to Griftiths, " I hear it well enough ; but on — on, go 
 you on." When the crier was tired of calling Queen Katha- 
 rine back into court, Henry, who saw the deep impression her 
 pathetic appeal had made on all present, commenced one of 
 his orations, lamenting " that his conscience should urge the 
 divorce of such a queen, who had ever been a devoted wife, 
 full of all gentleness and virtue." 
 
 Katharine Avas again summoned before the court. She re- 
 fused to appear, and was declared contumacious. The rage 
 and threats of Henry VHI. forced Wolsey and the other leg- 
 ate to a private interview with her. They arrived at Bridge- 
 well Palace quite unexpectedly. She was at work with her 
 maids, and she came to them with a skein of red silk about 
 her neck. "You see," said the queen, showing the silk, "my 
 employment; in this way I pass my time with my maids, who 
 are indeed none of the ablest counselors; yet have I no other 
 in England, and Spain, where there are those on whom I could 
 rely, is, God knoweth, far off"." "If it please your grace," re- 
 
 K* 
 
226 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1531. 
 
 plied Wolsey, " to go into your privy chamber, we will show 
 you the cause of our coming." "My lord," said the queen, 
 " if you have any thing to say, speak it openly before these 
 folk ; I would all the world should see and hear it." Then be- 
 gan Wolsey to address her in Latin. "Pray, good, my lord," 
 replied the queen, " speak to me in English, for I can, thank 
 God, understand English, though I do know some Latin." 
 Then Wolsey offered in the king's name to place the Princess 
 Mary next in order of succession to the issue by the second 
 marriage, if she would consent to the divorce. "My lord," 
 returned the queen, " I can not answer you, for I was set 
 among my maids at work, little dreaming of such a visit, and 
 I need counsel : but as for any in England, their counsel is not 
 for my profit. Alas ! my lords, I am a poor woman, lacking- 
 wit to answer persons of wisdom as ye be. Therefore, I pray 
 you, be good unto me, and your advice I would be glad to 
 hear." The queen then went to her withdrawing-rooni with 
 the legates, and remained there some time. It must be ob- 
 served that from this interview the queen gained over both 
 legates to her cause ; indeed they never would pronounce 
 against her ; and Wolsey now found that all the pains he had 
 taken to injure Katharine, his once beneficent mistress and 
 friend, was but to exalt Anne Boleyn, his active enemy. 
 
 As the king still remained Katharine's malcontent husband, 
 for the divorce seemed far off as ever, the royal pair went on 
 a progress together ; and there was no apparent diminution 
 of affection between them, although they were accompanied 
 by Anne Boleyn, the queen showing no marks of jealousy or 
 anger against her. The royal progress first tarried at the 
 More, a manor in Hertfordshire, and then bent its course to 
 Grafton, in Northamptonshire. Here Campeggio went to bid 
 farewell to the king. Wolsey accompanied him ; they were 
 almost driven from the royal abode by the king's attendants. 
 Queen Katharine fell ill. Thomas Boleyn and his daughter 
 ruled all events ; they were working the ruin of Wolsey, 
 whom the queen pitied, although in the earlier stages of the 
 divorce he had been ranked among her enemies. The divorce 
 excited the greatest interest among all sorts and conditions of 
 persons in England. The women, from high to low, took the 
 part of the queen ; while unmarried men, or those on whom 
 the marriage-yoke sat heavily, were partisans of Plenry. The 
 queen was residing at Greenwich Palace, Whitsuntide, 1531, 
 when the king sent to her, announcing that he had, by the ad- 
 vice of Dr. Cranmer, obtained the opinions of the universities 
 of Europe concerning the divorce, and found several which 
 
ir,31.] KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 227 
 
 considered it expedient ; be therefore entreated her, for tlie 
 quieting of his conscience, that she would refer the matter to 
 arbitration. The queen repHed, " God grant my husband a 
 quiet conscience ; but I mean to abide by no decision except- 
 ing that of Rome." The king heard her determination with 
 gloom and fuiy. He accompanied her to Windsor after 
 Trinity, 1531 ; but on the 14th of June he left the royal castle, 
 and sent to Katharine imperious orders to depart from thence 
 before his return. " Go where I may," was the reply of the 
 forsaken queen, " I am his wife, and for liim will I pray !" 
 She immediately retired from Windsor Castle, and never 
 again beheld her husband nor child. Her first abiding-place 
 was her manor of the More, in Hertfordshire ; she then set- 
 tled at Ampthill, whence she wrote to Pope Clement, inform- 
 ing him of her expulsion from her husband's court. 
 
 Katharine had hitherto been her daughter Mary's principal 
 teacher in the Latin language ; she was now separated from 
 her, but, more intent on her benefit than desirous of saddening 
 her young heart with complaints of wrongs, she wrote a sen- 
 sible letter, without allusion to her own troubles, but recom- 
 mending attention to her studies under her new tutor, Dr. 
 Featherstone : 
 
 "Daughter: — I pray you think not that forgetfulness has caused me to 
 keep Charles so long here, and answered not your good letter, in the which I 
 perceive ye would know how I do. I am in that case, that the absence of 
 the king and you troubleth me. My health is metely good ; and I trust in 
 God that he, who sent it me, doth it to the best, and will shortly turn all to 
 come with good effect. And in the mean time I am very glad to hear from 
 you, especially when they show me that ye be well amended. I pray God 
 to continue it to his pleasure. 
 
 " As for your writing in Latin, I am glad that ye shall change from me to 
 Maister Fcderston, for that shall do you much good to learn from him to 
 write right ; but yet sometimes I would be glad, when ye do write to Maister 
 Federston of your own inditing, when he hath read it that I may sec it, for 
 it shall be a great comfort to me to see you keep your Latin, and fair writing 
 and all. And so I pray to recommend me to my Lady of Salisbury. At 
 Wohurn, this Friday night. Your loving Mother, 
 
 " Katharine, The Queen." 
 
 Katharine wrote to her daughter another letter full of excel- 
 lent advice, praying her to submit to her father's will, justly 
 considering that if Mary did not exasj^erate her father, he 
 would, at one time or other, acknowledge her rights as a child ; 
 and, at her tender age, her opinion could be of no moment. 
 At the conclusion of this letter, the queen desires to be remem- 
 bered to her dear good Lady of Salisbury, Mary's governess ; 
 " tell her," adds the pious Katharine, " that to the Kingdom of 
 Heaven we never come but through many troubles." Another 
 
228 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1532-1533. 
 
 letter of the queen was written to Cromwell on occasion of 
 having heard news that the princess was ill. Katharine sued 
 humbly to Henry's agent for permission to see her child, say- 
 ing, that " A little comfort and mirth she would take with me, 
 would be a half-health to her. For my love let this be done." 
 Yet this maternal request was refused. At this juncture Pope 
 Clement addressed a private letter of exhortation to Henry, 
 advising him to take home Queen Katharine, and put away 
 " one Anna," whom he kept about him. The king was stag- 
 gered, and resolved to suspend his efforts to obtain the divorce. 
 Cromwell offered his advice at that critical moment to separate 
 the English Church from the supremacy of Rome, and at the 
 same time to enrich the king's exhausted finances by the seiz- 
 ure of Church property. The consequences of this stupendous 
 step fill many vast folios devoted to the questions of contend- 
 ing creeds and interests ; the object of these unambitious 
 pages is but to trace its effects on one faithful feminine heart, 
 wrung with all the woes that pertain to a forsaken wife and 
 bereaved mother. The death of Warham, Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, in 1532, and the appointment of the king's esteem- 
 ed theologian, Dr. Cranmer, in his place, gave a prospect of 
 the conclusion of tlie long agitated question of the divorce. 
 The king dissolved his wedlock by a decision pronounced un- 
 der his own supremacy. He married Anne Boleyn in the 
 commencement of the following year. Cranmer held the di- 
 vorce court near the queen's residence at Ampthill, where she 
 was cited to appear, but she ignored it. Finally, she was de- 
 clared contumacious ; and the sentence that her marriage was 
 null and void, and never had been good, was read at Dunsta- 
 ble, May 23, 1533. 
 
 Sorrow had made cruel havoc in the health of the liapless 
 queen while these slow drops of bitterness were distilling. 
 When Lord Mountjoy, her former page, was deputed to inform 
 her that she was degraded from the rank of Queen of England 
 to that of dowager-princess of Wales, she was on a sick-bed : 
 it was some days before she could permit the interview. " Her 
 grace," he wrote, July 3, " was then lying upon her pallet, be- 
 cause she had pricked her foot with a pin, so that she might 
 not well stand or go, and also sore annoyed with a cough." 
 Nevertheless, she commanded the instrument to be brought to 
 her, and drew her pen through the words " princess-dowager" 
 Avherever they occurred. The paper still remains in our na- 
 tional archives with the alterations made by her agitated hand ; 
 and the scene concluded with her protestations that she would 
 "never relinquish the name of queen." Indeed the implicit 
 
1531-1535.] KATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 229 
 
 obedience Henry's agents paid her, even when they came to 
 dispute her title, proved how completely she was versed in the 
 science of command. Her servants had been summoned by 
 Mountjoy to take an oath to serve her but as Princess of Wales, 
 which she forbade them to do ; therefore many left her service, 
 and she was waited upon by a very few, whom the king was 
 obliged to excuse from the oath. The same summer, her resi- 
 dence was transferred to Bugden (now called Buckden), 
 a place belonging to the Bishop of Lincoln, four miles from 
 Huntingdon. At this time of her sorest troubles, one of her 
 gentlewomen began to execrate Anne Boleyn. The queen 
 dried her streaming eyes, and said, earnestly, " Hold your 
 peace ! Curse not — curse her not, but rather pray for lier ; for 
 even now is the time fast coming when you shall have reason 
 to pity her, and lament her case." The queen regained in some 
 degree her cheerfulness and peace of mind at Bugden, where 
 the country people began to love her exceedingly. Her re- 
 turning tranquillity was interrupted by Archbishop Lee and 
 Bishop Tunstal, who came to read to her six articles, showing 
 why she ought to be considered only as Prince Arthur's widow, 
 and that she ought to resign the title of queen. The last rem- 
 nant of Katharine's patience gave way : in a climax of choler 
 and agony she vowed, " she would never quit the title of queen, 
 which she Avould retain till death, concluding with the decla- 
 ration that she was the king's wife and not his subject, and not 
 liable to his acts of parliament." A great historian most aptly 
 remarks, " that Henry's repudiated wife was the only person 
 who could defy him with impunity: she had lost his love, but 
 never forfeited his esteem." The queen, in the midst of these 
 degradations, retained some faithful friends, and had many im- 
 prudent partisans. Reginald Pole, whom she loved with a 
 mother's tendei'ness, had passionately espoused her cause long 
 before it had occasioned the division from Rome. The ladies 
 of Henry's coui-t exerted their eloquence in conversation so 
 warmly against the divorce and the exaltation of Anne Bol- 
 eyn, that the king sent two of the most contumacious to the 
 Tower. 
 
 A reign of terror now ruled the shuddering realm. From 
 the time of the executions of Fisher and More, Henry's two 
 most illustrious victims, Katharine's health became worse. She 
 was willing to live for her daughter, and thinking the air of 
 Bugden too damp for her constitution, she requested the king 
 to appoint her an abiding-place nearer the meti'opolis. Henry 
 issued his orders to Cromwell to reiiKive her farther oif, to Foth- 
 eringay Castle, a place notorious for its bad air. Katharine 
 
230 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1535-1536. 
 
 positively refused to go there, " unless drawn with ropes." 
 The king sent the Duke of Suflblk to break up her houseliold 
 at Bugden ; and in a most malignant spirit he fulfilled this com- 
 mission. At the termination of the contest relative to her change 
 of residence, the Duke of Sufl:blk behaved with such personal 
 insolence to the repudiated queen, that she left his presence 
 abruptly. She was next removed to Kimbolton Castle, where 
 she commenced the dreary new year of 1535, with her comforts 
 greatly diminished. Her nominal income as Prince Arthur's 
 widow was 5000^.; but it was so ill paid that Sir Edmund 
 Bedingfeld, during the lingering malady that followed her ar- 
 rival at Kimbolton, wrote more than once that the household 
 was utterly devoid of money. 
 
 The persecution Henry was carrying on against the unfor- 
 tunate Father Forrest, Katharine's former confessor, and one 
 of the witnesses of her marriage, caused inexpressible anguish 
 to her at Kimbolton. Abell, the queen's other chaplain, was 
 detained in cruel confinement, and both were put to the most 
 horrible deaths. Father Forrest was burnt alive in a manner 
 too terrible for detail ; but, contrary to his own anticipations, 
 his dreadful doom was not executed till two years after the 
 death of the queen. When Katharine found the welcome hand 
 of death was upon her, she sent to the king a pathetic entreaty 
 to indulge her in a last interview with her child, imploring him 
 not to withhold Mary from receiving her last blessing. This 
 request was denied. A few days before she expired, she caused 
 one of her maids to come to her bedside, and write a farewell 
 letter to the king, which she dictated in the following words : 
 
 " My Lord and Dear Husband : — I commend me unto yon. The hour of 
 my death draweth fast on, and, my case being such, the tender love I owe 
 you forceth me, with a few words, to put you in remembrance of the health 
 and safeguard of your soul, which you ought to prefer before all worldly 
 matters, and before the care and tendering of your own body, for the which 
 you have cast me into many miseries and yourself into many cares. For my 
 part I do pardon you all, yea, I do wish and devoutly pray God that He will 
 also pardon you. 
 
 " For the rest I commend unto you Mary, our daughter, beseeching you to 
 be a good father unto her, as I heretofore desired. I entreat you also, on 
 behalf of my maids, to give them marriage portions, which is not much, they 
 being but three. For all my other servants I solicit a year's pay more than 
 their due, lest they should be unprovided for. 
 
 " Lastly do I vow, that mine eyes desire you above all things." 
 
 King Henry received Queen Katharine's letter some days be- 
 fore her death. He shed tears on perusing it, and sent to 
 Capucius, entreating him to hasten to Kimbolton, to greet her 
 kindly from him. It has been genei'ally supposed that the king 
 
1536.1 ICATIIARINE OF ARUAGON. 231 
 
 gave leave to Lady Willougbby, formerly Donna Maria de Sa- 
 lines, an attendant and distant relative of his dying queen, to 
 visit her ; but this fiiitliful lady made her way to her Avithout 
 Henry's sanction : — It was at nightfall, about six o'clock on 
 New Year's Day, when Lady Willougbby arrived at Kimbolton 
 Castle gate, almost perished with cold and exhausted with fa- 
 tigue from her dreary journey, being much discomposed, also, 
 by a fall from her horse. Bedingfeld, the castellan, demanded 
 of her the license that authorized her to visit Katharine. She 
 piteously represented her sufterings, and begged to come to 
 the fire ; adding, " her letters she would show them in the morn- 
 ing." ]3y her eloquence she prevailed on them to usher her into 
 her dying friend's chamber : but when once she was safely en- 
 sconced therein, " we neither saw her again, nor beheld any of 
 her letters," wrote Bedingfeld. Eustachius Capucius, the em- 
 peror's ambassador, arrived at Kimbolton, January 2, 1535-6. 
 After dinner he was introduced into the dying queen's chamber, 
 where he stayed a quarter of an hour. Bedingfeld was present 
 at the interview, but was much disappointed that he could send 
 no information as to what passed, for Katharine conversed 
 with the ambassador only in Spanish. Capucius, with the phy- 
 sician, paid her visits next day, when none but her trusty wom- 
 en were present, who either knew no Spanish, or would not 
 betray what passed, if they did. Lady Willougbby, of course, 
 spoke to her dying friend in the dear language of their native 
 Castile. Katharine expired, January 7, in the presence of Ca- 
 pucius and Lady Willougbby, with the utmost calmness. 
 
 Katharine of Arragon left a will, which proves how slight 
 were her debts, yet she felt anxiety concerning them. On her 
 just mind, even the obligations she owed her laundress had 
 their due weight. It furnishes, too, another instance of the 
 pitiful meanness of Henry VIII. There is a sentence alluding 
 to the disposal of her gowns " which he holdeth," sho wing- 
 plainly that he had detained the best part of his wife's wardrobe. 
 Will it be believed that, notwithstanding Henry shed tears 
 over her last letter, he sent his creature, lawyer Rich, to see 
 whether he could not seize her little property without paying 
 her trilling legacies and debts ? and whether the debtors and 
 legatees of the broken-hearted queen were ever satisfied, is a 
 doubtful point ; but the property Katharine could claim for the 
 liquidation of her debts and obligations to her faithful servants, 
 was, even by Henry's own arbitrary decisions, considerable, 
 being the arrears of the 5000^. per annum, due from her jointure 
 as Arthur's widow. This stipend, either from malice or pov- 
 erty, had not been paid her. A scanty maintenance was all 
 
232 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [153G. 
 
 that Katharine received from her faithless spouse ; and when 
 the noble portion she had brought into England is remembered, 
 such dishonesty appears the more intolerable. Even a new 
 gown, as appears by the Avill, was obtained on trust. It appears 
 likely that she possessed no more of her jewels than were on 
 her 'person when she was expelled from Windsor Castle by 
 the fiat of her lord. 
 
 Tradition declares that her funeral approached Peterborough 
 by an ancient way from Kimbolton, called Bygrame's Lane. 
 Tlie last abbot of Peterborough, John Chambers, performed her 
 obsequies. The place of burial was in the church, between two 
 pilhirs on the north side of the choir, near to the great altar. 
 At Green wicli, King Henry observed the day of Katharine's 
 burial with solemn obsequies, all his servants and himself at- 
 tending them dressed in mourning. He commanded his whole 
 court to do the same. Queen Anne Boleyn would not obey ; 
 but in sign of gladness, dressed herself and all the ladies of iier 
 household in yellow, and amid them all, exulted for the 
 death of her rival. "I am grieved," she said, " not that she is 
 dead, but for the vaunting of the good end she made." She 
 had reason to say this, for nothing was talked of but the 
 Christian death-bed of Katharine; and many books were writ- 
 ten in her praise, blaming King Henry's actions. A short time 
 after Queen Katharine's interment some friends of hers ven- 
 tured to suggest to King Henry " that it would well become 
 his greatness to rear a stately monument to her memory." 
 He answered " that he would have to her memory one of the 
 goodliest monuments ni Christendom." This was the beautiful 
 abbey-churcli of Peterborough, wliich he spared on account 
 of its being her resting-place. Thus the whole of this mag- 
 nificent structure may be considered the monument of Kath- 
 arine of Arragon, although the actual place of her repose was 
 never distinguished excepting by a small brass plate. The grand 
 abilities of Katharine of Arragon, her unstained integrity of 
 word and action, united with intrepid firmness, commanded 
 even from her enemies that deep respect which her sweetness, 
 benevolence, and other saintly virtues would not have obtain- 
 ed, unsupported by these high queenly qualities. Sustained 
 by her own innate grandeur of soul, her piety, and lofty rec- 
 titude, she passed through all her bitter trials without calumny 
 succeeding in fixing a spot on her name. 
 
1501. J 
 
 AMNE BOLEYN. 
 
 233 
 
 Queen Anne Boleyn. From a painting by llolliein. 
 
 ANNE BOLEYN, 
 
 SECOND QUEEN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 AnjVE Boletn" was the eldest daughter of Sir Thomas Bol- 
 eyn and Lady Boleyn, and was born about the year 1501. 
 
 Hever Castle in Kent, Rochford Hall in Essex, and Blickling 
 Hall in Norfolk, have each been named by historians and topog- 
 raphers as the bii-thplace of Anne Boleyn. The evidences 
 are strongly in favor of Blickling Hall : the local tradition that 
 Anne Boleyn was born there is so general that it pervades 
 all classes in that neighborhood, even to the peasantry. 
 
 Tlie first years of Anne Boleyn's life were spent at Blick- 
 ling, with her sister Mary and her brother George, afterward 
 the unfortunate Viscount Bochford. Thomas Wyatt, the eel- 
 
234 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1154. 
 
 ebrated ])oet, was in all probability her playfellow, for his fa- 
 ther, Sir Plenry Wyatt, was her father's coadjutor in the gov- 
 ernment of Norwich Castle. The first misfortune that befell 
 Anne was the loss of her mother. Lady Boleyn, who died in 
 the year 1512. Sir Thomas Boleyn married again. Anne's 
 step-mother was a Norfolk woman of humble origin. 
 
 After the death of Lady Boleyn, Anne resided at Hever Cas- 
 tle under the superintendence of a French governess called 
 Simonette, and other instructors, by whom she was very care- 
 fully educated, and acquired an early proiiciency in music, 
 needlework, and many other accomplishments. While her 
 father was at court, or elsewhere, Anne constantly correspond- 
 ed with him, both in her own language and in French. She 
 wrote one of the fairest and best hands of that age. These ac- 
 quirements were rare indeed among ladies in the early part of 
 Henry VIIL's reign. The Princess Mary Tudor, King Henry's 
 youngest sister, was affianced to Louis XH. of France, in Sep- 
 tember, 1514. This makes it certain that Anne was at least 
 double the age stated by her biographers, for it is neither 
 likely that a child of seven years old would have acquired the 
 knowledge which Anne possessed at that time, nor that an 
 appointment would have been sought, much less obtained, for 
 her in the suite of the departing princess. 
 
 The fair young Boleyn, as one of the maids of honor to the 
 Princess Mary, had, of course, a j^lace assigned to her near the 
 person of the royal bride at the grand ceremonial of tlie espous- 
 al of that princess to Louis XH. of France, which was solemnized 
 August 13, 1514, in the Church of the Grey Friars, Greenwich, 
 the Duke de Longueville acting as the proxy of his sovereign. 
 In September Anne attended her new mistress to Dover, who 
 was accompanied by the king and queen, and all the court. At 
 Dover they tarried a whole month on account of the tem- 
 pestuous winds, which did great damage on that coast, 
 causing the wrecks of several gallant ships, with awful loss of 
 life. It was not till the 2d of October that the weather was 
 sufficiently calm to admit of the passage of the royal bride. 
 Long before the dawn of that day, Anne and the rest of the no- 
 ble attendants, who were all lodged in Dover Castle, were roused 
 up to embark with their royal mistress. King Henry conduct- 
 ed his best loved sister to the sea-side, and there kissed her, 
 and committed her to the care of God, the fortune of the sea, 
 and the governance of the French king, her husband. She 
 and her retinue went on board at four o'clock in the morning. 
 Great perils were encountered on the voyage, for a tempestuous 
 hurricane presently arose and scattered the fleet. The ship 
 
1515.] ANNE BOLEYN. 235 
 
 in which Anne sailed with her royal mistress was separated 
 from the convoy, and was in imminent danger for some hours ; 
 and when at last she made the harbor of Boulogne, grounded 
 in the mouth of the haven. Fortunately the boats were in 
 readiness, and the terrified ladies were safely conveyed to the 
 shore. Wet and exhausted as the fair voyagers were, they 
 were compelled to rally their spirits the instant they landed, in 
 order to receive, with the best grace their forlorn condition 
 would permit, the compliments of a distinguished company of 
 French princes, prelates, nobles, knights, and gentlemen, who 
 were waiting on the strand to ofler their homage to their beau- 
 tiful young queen. 
 
 The foir travelers were conducted with solemn pomp to the 
 town of Boulogne, where they obtained needful rest and re- 
 freshment, with tlie liberty of changing their wet garments. 
 Aime proceeded with her royal mistress and the rest of the 
 train, by easy journeys, till within four miles of Abbeville, 
 when the bride and all her ladies, clad in glittering robes, 
 mounted white palfreys, forming an equestrian procession of 
 seven-and-thirty. Queen Mary's palfrey was trapped with 
 cloth of gold : her ladies wei*e dressed in crimson velvet. Anne 
 Boleyn was an assistant at the nuptials of her royal mistress 
 with the King of France, which were solemnized with great 
 pomp in the church of Abbeville. After the ceremony was 
 over there was a sumptuous banquet, at which the queen's En- 
 glish ladies were feasted, and received especial marks of respect. 
 But the next day, October 10, the scene changed, and, to the 
 consternation and sorrow of the young queen, and the lively 
 indignation of her followers, all were dismissed by the king 
 her husband, and ordered to return home. Anne Boleyn and 
 two other ladies were the only exceptions to this sweeping 
 sentence. Her skill in the French language Avas doubtless the 
 reason of her detention, and in this she must have been very 
 serviceable to her royal mistress, who, but for her company, 
 would have been left a forlorn stranger in her own court. 
 
 After the death of Louis XII., Anne Boleyn, instead of re- 
 turning to England with the royal widow Queen Mary, en- 
 tered the service of the consort of Francis I., Queen Claude, 
 the daughter of the deceased King, Louis XII. This prin- 
 cess, who was a truly amiable and excellent woman, endeav- 
 ored to revive all the moral restraints and correct demeanor 
 of the court of her mother, Anne of Bretagne. Queen Claude 
 was always surrounded by a number of young ladies, who 
 walked in procession with her to church, and formed part of 
 her state whenever she appeared in public. In private, she 
 
 y 
 
236 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1522. 
 
 directed their labors at the loom or embroidery-frame, and en- 
 deavored, by every means in her power, to give a virtuous 
 and devotional bias to their thoughts and conversation. 
 
 Anne Boleyn returned to England, according to the most 
 authentic accounts, in the year 1522. A dispute had arisen 
 between her father and the mule heirs of the Butlers for the 
 inheritance of the last Earl of Wiltshire, Anne's great-grand- 
 father, which had proceeded to such a height that the Earl of 
 Surrey suggested to the king that the best way of composing 
 their difierences would be by a matrimonial alliance between 
 a daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn and the heir of his oppo- 
 nent, Sir Piers Butler. Henry agreed, and directed Wolsey to 
 bring about the marriage. Anne's sister, Mary Boleyn, had 
 been married to VViliam Carey nine months before Wolsey 
 received this commission, in November, 1521 ; therefore Anne 
 was recalled from France for the purpose of being made the 
 bond of peace. She was then twenty years of age. The first 
 time Henry saw her after her return to England was in her 
 father's garden at Hever, where he encountered her by acci- 
 dent, and admiring her beauty and graceful demeanor, entered 
 into conversation with her, and was so much charmed with 
 her sprightly wit, that on his return to Westminster he told 
 Wolsey " that he had been discoursing with a young lady 
 who had the Avit of an angel, and was worthy of a crown." 
 Wolsey is said to have suggested Anne's api^oiutment as 
 maid of honor to the queen. 
 
 The following rules were observed with regard to the table 
 of the ladies in the household of Queen Katharine, to which 
 Anne was now attached : Each maid of honor was allowed a 
 woman-servant and a spaniel as her attendants. A chine of 
 beef, a manchet, and a chet loaf, offered a plentiful breakfast 
 for the three ; to these viands was added a gallon of ale. The 
 brewer was enjoined to put neither hops nor brimstone into 
 their ale, the first being deemed as horrible an adulteration as 
 the last. The maids of honor, like ofticers in the army and 
 navy at the present day, dined at mess, a circumstance which 
 shows how very ancient that familiar tei'm is. " Seven messes 
 of ladies dined at the same table in the great chamber. Man- 
 chets, beef, mutton, ale, and wine were served to them in abun- 
 dance, to which were added hens, pigeons, and rabbits. On 
 fost-days their mess was supplied with salt salmon, salted eels, 
 whitings, gurnet, plaice, and flounders." 
 
 The first thing Anne did was to engage hei'self in a roman- 
 tic love aftair with Henry, Lord Percy, the eldest son of the 
 Earl of Northumberland, regardless of the family ari-niigcment 
 
]y23.] ANNE BOLEYN. 237 
 
 by wliich she was j^ledged to become the -wife of the heir of 
 Sir Piers Butler. Percy, like herself, had been destined by 
 paternal policy to a matrimonial engagement wherein aftection 
 had no share. , He had exhibited great reluctance to fulfil the 
 contract into which his father had entered for him in his boy- 
 hood with the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, and it was 
 still unratified on his part when he appeared at court as an 
 elhve of Cardinal Wolsey. The office which Percy filled about 
 the person of the minister required that he should attend him 
 to the palace daily, which he did ; and while his patron was 
 closeted with the king, or engaged at the council-board, he 
 was accustomed to resort to the queen's ante-chamber, where 
 he singled out Mistress Anne as the object of his exclusive at- 
 tention, and such love was nourished between them that a prom- 
 ise of marriage Avas exchanged, and, reckless alike of the pre- 
 vious engagements which had been made for them in other quar- 
 ters by their parents, they became what was then called troth- 
 plight, or insured to each other. Henry determined to separate 
 the lovers. Accordingly he sent for Wolsey, and, expressing 
 himself very angrily on the subject of the contract into which 
 Anne Boleyn and Percy had entered, charged him to take 
 prompt steps for dissolving their engagement. The cardinal 
 returned to his house at Westminster, and sending for Lord 
 Percy, there, before several of his servants, reproved him for 
 his engaging himself to Anne Boleyn. 
 
 Nor was this unceremonious lecture the only mortification 
 the unfortunate lover was doomed to receive. His father, the 
 Earl of Northumberland, a man in whose cold heart and nar- 
 row mind the extremes of pride and meanness met, came Avith 
 all speed out of the north, having received a summons in the 
 king's name ; and, going first to Wolsey's house to inquire 
 into the matter, was received by that proud statesman in his 
 gallery, where he delivered a stern lecture to his son, threat- 
 ening to disinherit him if he did not give up his plight to Anne 
 Boleyn. 
 
 The luckless heir of Northumberland was, in the sequel, com- 
 pelled to fulfil his involuntary contract to Lady Mary Talbot, 
 one of the daughters of the Earl of Shrewsbury. 
 
 Henry's jealous pique at the preference Anne Boleyn had 
 shoAvn for Percy, induced him to inflict upon her the mortifi- 
 cation of discharging her from Queen Katharine's household, 
 and dismissing her to her father's house. Anne Boleyn, having 
 no idea of the real quarter whence the blow proceeded by 
 which she was deprived of her lover and the splendid prospect 
 that had flattered her, naturally regarded the interference of 
 
238 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1525. 
 
 Wolsey as a piece of gratuitous impertinence of his own, and 
 in the bitterness of disappointed love, nourished that vindic- 
 tive spirit against him which no after submissions could mol- 
 
 After a period sufficient to allow for the subsiding of or- 
 dinary feelings of displeasure liad elapsed, the king paid an 
 unexpected visit to Ilever Castle. But Anne, too indignant to 
 olFer her homage to the tyrant whose royal caprice had de- 
 prived her of her affianced husband, would not appear, but 
 took to her chamber, under pretense of indisposition, on Hen- 
 ry's arrival at the castle, and never left it till after his depart- 
 ure. To propitiate the offended beauty, Henry, on the 18th 
 of June, 1525, advanced her father. Sir Thomas Boleyn, to the 
 peerage by the style and title of Viscount Rochford, one of the 
 long contested titles of the house of Ormond. He also, with 
 the evident intention of drawing the whole family to his court 
 once more, bestowed on the newly-created viscount the high 
 office of treasurer of the royal household, and appointed Wil- 
 liam Carey, the husband of Mary Boleyn, a gentleman of the 
 privy-chamber. 
 
 It is scarcely probable that Anne continued unconscious of 
 the king's passion, when he followed up all the favors confer- 
 red on her family by presenting a costly offering of jewels to 
 herself; but when Henry proceeded to avow his love, .she re- 
 coiled from his lawless addresses with the natural abhorrence 
 of a virtuous woman, and falling on her knees, she made this 
 reply : " I think, most noble and worthy king, your tnajesty 
 speaks these words in mirth to prove me, without intent of de- 
 grading your princely self. Therefore, to ease you of the la- 
 bor of asking me any such question hei'eafter, I beseech your 
 highness, most earnestly, to desist and take this my answer 
 (which I speak from the depth of my soul) in good part. Most 
 noble king ! I will rather lose mj' life than my virtue, which 
 will be the greatest and best part of the dowry I shall bring 
 my husband." Henry, having flattered himself that he had 
 only to signify his preference in order to receive the encour- 
 agement which is too often accorded to the suit of a royal lov- 
 er, met this earnest repulse with the assurance that " he should 
 at least continue to hope." — " I understand not, most mighty 
 king, how you should retain such hope," she proudly rejoined. 
 "Your wife I can not be, both in respect of mine own un wor- 
 thiness, and also because you have a queen already ; your mis- 
 tress I will not be." 
 
 It was at this juncture she went back to France, and entei'- 
 cd the service of Margaret, Duchess of Alen9on, the French 
 
^t LuQ^O»y^^A^ "i^Oj^^rUl^ 
 
 CJ^o 
 
 1525-1527.] ANNE BOLEYN. 239 
 
 court having reassembled in the year 1525-6 with renewed 
 splendor, to celebrate Math a series of fetes and rejoicings tlie 
 emancipation of Francis I. from his captivity. All iiistorians 
 agree that Anne returned to England with her father in tiie 
 year 1527, when he was recalled from his diplomatic mission; 
 but those who have not taken the trouble of tracing the dates 
 of Percy's marriage and his subsequent succession to the earl- 
 dom, erroneously assert that her acquaintance with the king 
 coimnenced that year. 
 
 After an absence of four years, Anne Boleyn resumed her 
 place in the palace of Queen Katharine, in compliance, it is 
 supposed, with her father's commands, and received the hom- 
 age of her enamored sovereign in a less repulsive manner 
 than she had done while her heart was freshly bleeding for the 
 loss of the man whom she had passionately desired to marry. If 
 her regrets were softened by the influence of time and ab- 
 sence, it is certain that her resentment continued in full force 
 against Wolsey for his conduct with regard to Percy, and was 
 treasured up against a day of vengeance. Wolsey, perceiving 
 the danger that threatened him, exerted all his arts of pleasing 
 to conciliate the offended beauty, and prepared many feasts 
 and masques to entertain her and the king at his own house. 
 Tills induced her to treat him with feigned civility, but the ha- 
 tred of a vindictive person dissembled is always far more per- 
 ilous than the open violence of a declared foe. Anne, however, 
 went farther than disseml)ling, for she condescended to the use 
 of the most deceitfid blandishments in order to persuade the 
 cardinal that she had a great regard for him. 
 
 The question of Henry's divorce from Katharine was now 
 mysteriously agitated under the name of " the king's secret 
 matter," and Wolsey, far from suspecting the real object for 
 which the king was desii'ous of ridding himself of his consort, 
 became the blind instrument of opening the path for the eleva- 
 tion of his fair enemy to a throne. The intrigues which pi-ef- 
 aced tlie public proceedings for the divorce have been related 
 in the life of Katharine of Arragon. A splendid farewell fete 
 was given to the French ambassadors at Greenwich, May 5, 
 1527, and at the masque with which the midnight ball con- 
 cluded, the king gave a public mark of his preference for 
 Anne Boleyn by selecting her for his partner. 
 
 But when Henry confided to Wolsey his desire of making 
 Anne Boleyn his wife, the minister threw himself at the feet of 
 his royal master, and remained several hours on his knees rea- 
 soning with him on tlie infatuation of his conduct, but without 
 effect. Henry's passion was again quickened by the stimulus 
 
240 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [\r,27. 
 
 of jealousy, for about this time we find Anne coquetting with 
 Sir Thomas Wyatt, her early friend and devoted admirer. 
 
 " One day, while Aiuie Boleyn was very earnest on her em- 
 broidery, Wyatt was hovering about her, talking and com])li- 
 menting her (for which their relative employments about the 
 king and queen gave him good opportunity), he twitched from 
 her a jeweled tablet, which hung by a lace or chain out of her 
 pocket. This he thrust into his bosom, and, notwithstanding 
 her earnest entreaties, never would restore it to her, but woi-e 
 it about his neck under his cassock. Now and then he showed 
 it to her, in order to persuade her to let him retain it as a mark 
 of her favor, or at all events to prove a subject of conversation 
 with her, in which he had great delight. Anne Boleyn, per- 
 ceiving his drift, permitted him to keep it without farther com- 
 ment, as a trifle not worth farther contest. Henry VIII. watch- 
 ed them both with anxious jealousy, and quickly perceived that 
 the more Sir Thomas Wyatt hovered about the lady, the more 
 
 she avoided him Well pleased at her conduct, the king," 
 
 says Sir Thomas Wyatt, " fell to win her by treaty of marriage, 
 and in his talk on that matter took from her a ring, which he 
 ever wore upon his little finger." 
 
 Anne Boleyn had gained some little wisdom by her disap- 
 pointment in regard to Percy, for Wyatt declares, " that all 
 this she carried with great secrecy." Far different was the 
 conduct of the king, who was extremely anxious to display his 
 triumph over Wyatt. Within a few days after, he was playing 
 at bowls with Wyatt, the Duke of Suffolk, and Sir Francis Bry- 
 an. Henry was in high good humor, but afiirmed that in the 
 cast of the bowl he had surpassed his competitor Wyatt. 
 Both Wyatt and his partner declared, "By his leave, it was 
 not so." The king, however, continued pointing with his fin- 
 ger on which he had Anne Boleyn's ring, and, smiling sig- 
 nificantly, said, " Wyatt, I tell thee it is mine.'''' The ring, which 
 Avas well known to him, at last caught the eye of Sir Thom- 
 as Wyatt, who paused a little to rally his spirits. Then tak- 
 ing from his bosom the chain to which hung the tablet, 
 winch the king likewise remembered Avell, and had noted it 
 when worn by Anne Boleyn, he said, " And if it may like your 
 majesty to give me leave to measure the cast with this., I have 
 good hopes yet it will be mine." Wyatt then busied himself 
 M'ith measuring the space between the bowls with the chain of 
 the tablet, and boldly pronounced the game to be his. "It 
 may be so," exclaimed the monarch, haughtily spurning from 
 him the disputed bowl ; " but then I am deceived !" and, with 
 an angry brow, he broke \\\^ the sport. This double-meaning 
 
1528-1529.] ANNE BOLEYN. 241 
 
 dialogue was understood by few or none but themselves ; but 
 the king retired to his chamber with his countenance express- 
 ive of the resentment he felt. He soon took an opportunity 
 of reproaching Anne Boleyn with giving love-tokens to Wyatt, 
 when the lady clearly proved, to the great satisfaction of her 
 royal lover, that her tablet had been snatched from her and 
 kept by superior strength. 
 
 No one who dispassionately reflects on these passages in 
 Anne's conduct can reconcile it either with her duty to her 
 I'oyal mistress, or those feelings of feminine delicacy which 
 should make a young and beautiful woman tremble at the im~ 
 propriety of becoming an object of contention between two 
 married men. Wyatt prudently resigned the fair prize to his 
 royal rival, and if Anne abstained from compliance with the 
 unhallowed solicitations of the king, it must, we fear, be ascribed 
 I'ather to her caution than her virtue, for she had overstep- 
 ped the i-estraints of moral rectitude when she first permitted 
 herself to encourage his attentions. In the hour that Anne 
 Boleyn did this, she took her first step toward a scaifold, and 
 prepared for herself a doom which fully exemplifies the warn- 
 ing, " Those who sow the Avhirlwind must expect to reap the 
 storm." Ambition had now entered her head ; she saw that 
 the admiration of the sovereign had rendered lier the centre of 
 attraction to all who sought his favor, and she felt the fatal 
 charms of power — not merely the power which beauty, wit, 
 and fascination had given her, but that of political influence. 
 In a word, she swayed the will of the arbiter of Europe, and 
 she had determined to share his throne as soon as her royal 
 mistress could be dispossessed. 
 
 In this position were affairs when the noted epidemic called 
 " the sweating sickness" broke out, June 1, in the court. Hen- 
 ry, in his first alarm, yielded to the persuasions of Wolsey and 
 his spiritual directors, and sent the fair Boleyn home to her 
 father at Hever Castle, while he effected a temporary reconcili- 
 ation with his injured queen. His penitentiary exercises Avith 
 Katharine did not, however, deter him from pursuing his ama- 
 tory correspondence with her absent rival. 
 
 Anne and her father were both seized with this alarming 
 epidemic early in June. The agitating intelligence of the 
 peril of his beloved was conveyed to Henry by express at 
 midnight. He instantly dispatched his physician. Dr. Butts, 
 to her assistance. Anne was in imminent danger, but through 
 the skill and care of Dr. Butts, she was preserved to fulfill 
 a darker destiny. The shadow of death bad passed from 
 over her, but the solemn warning was unheeded, and she 
 
 L 
 
242 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1529. 
 
 fearlessly pressed onward to the fatal accomplishment of her 
 wishes. 
 
 The king was induced to declare to Anne Boleyn and her 
 father, that it was his intention to make her his consort when- 
 ever he should be released from his present marriage. After 
 this intimation, he became a frequent visitor at Hever Castle. 
 He used to ride thither privately from Eltham or Greenwich. 
 The local tradition of Hever points out a certain hill which 
 commanded a view of the castle, where he used to sound his 
 bugle to give notice of his approach. The oak-paneled cham- 
 ber and the antique gallery are still shown at the castle where 
 he used to have interviews with Anne Boleyn. 
 
 Her love of pleasure and thirst for admiration rendered Anne 
 impatient to emerge from the retirement of Hever Castle ; 
 and the fears of the pestilence having entirely passed away, 
 she returned to court on the 18th of August. The queen was 
 sent to Greenwich, and her fair rival was lodged in a splendid 
 suite of apartments contiguous to those of the king. The 
 time-serving portion of the courtiers flattered the weakness of 
 the sovereign by offering their adulation to the beautiful and 
 accomplished object of his passion. She was supported by the 
 powerful influence of her maternal kinsmen, the Duke of Nor- 
 folk and his brethren, men who were illustrious, not only by 
 their high rank and descent from the monarchs of England 
 and France, but by the services they had rendered their coun- 
 try, both by sea and land ; yet the voice of the great body of 
 the people was against her. They felt the cause of their in- 
 jured, their virtuous queen, as their own ; and their indigna- 
 tion was so decidedly manifested, that Henry, despotic as he 
 was, ventui-ed not to oppose the popular clamor for the dis- 
 missal of his fair favorite. Anne Boleyn was accordingly re- 
 quired by her royal lover to retire to Hever Castle for the 
 present. This sort of temporizing policy was not agreeable 
 to her, but the king insisted upon her departure. So great 
 was her displeasure, that she vowed she would return to court 
 no more. Henry did every thing in his power to conciliate 
 her. He continued to write the most impassioned letters to 
 her, and to give her the earliest intelligence of the progress of 
 the expected legate. 
 
 The revenues of the See of Durham (or, at any rate, that 
 portion of the immunities of the bishopric which were situated 
 in the metropolis) were bestowed upon her, and Durham 
 House became the London residence of herself and her parents. 
 It was pleasantly situated on the banks of the river, on the 
 very spot in the Strand now occupied by the Adelphi build- 
 
1529.] ANNE BOLEYN. 243 
 
 ings. This, however, did not content Anne, and when, after 
 an absence of two months, she consented, at the entreaties of 
 the king, seconded by the commands and even the tears of her 
 fatlier, to return to court, it was only on condition that a more 
 splendid and commodious residence should be allotted her. 
 Henry took infinite pains to please her in this matter, and at 
 length employed Wolsey ashis agent in securing Suffolk House 
 for her abode. 
 
 Anne took possession of this stately mansion early in De- 
 cember. Henry induced his courtiers to attend the daily levees 
 which she, like a rival queen, held with all the pomp of royal- 
 ty. She had her ladies in Avaiting, her train-bearer, and her 
 chaplains, and dispensed patronage both in church and state. 
 At Christmas the king joined his family at Greenwich, and 
 Anne Boleyn outraged all propriety by accompanying him. 
 Scandal, of course, was busy with her name ; Avhat lady who 
 submitted to occupy a position so suspicious could escape with 
 a reputation unblemished ? 
 
 The first introduction of Tindal's translations of the holy 
 Scriptures was, according to Strype, effected while Anne Bol- 
 eyn was the all-powerful favorite of Henry, served with royal 
 pomp, and attended by a suit of maids of honor like a queen. 
 Among the ladies of her retinue. Mistress Gaynsford Avas a 
 fair young gentlewoman who was loved by Anne's equerry, a 
 youth of noble lineage, named George Zouch. George one 
 day snatched a book out of young Mistress Gaynsford's hands, 
 to which she was attending more than he approved when in 
 his company. It was no other than Tindal's translation of 
 the Gospels, which had been lent to her by her mistress, Anne 
 Boleyn, to whom it had been privately presented by one of the 
 Reformers. It was proscribed by Cardinal Wolsey, and kept 
 secretly from the king. Mistress Gaynsford, knowing its im- 
 portance, tried to get it back from her lover, but George Zouch 
 remained perversely obstinate, and kept it to tease her. One 
 day he went with other courtiers to the king's chapel, when 
 he took it into his head to read the book he had snatched from 
 his beloved, and was soon so utterly absorbed in its contents, 
 that the service was over before he was conscious of the lapse 
 of time. The dean of the chapel, wishing to see what book 
 the young gentleman was perusing with such attention, took 
 it out of his hand ; when, finding it was the prohibited version 
 of the Scriptures, he carried it to Cardinal Wolsey. Meantime 
 Anne Boleyn asked Mistress Gaynsford for the book she had 
 lent her, who, greatly terrified at its loss, confessed that George 
 Zouch had stolen it, and detained it to torment her. Anne 
 
244 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1530. 
 
 Boleyn sent for George, and inquired into tlie matter. When 
 she heard the fate of the book she was not angry with the lov- 
 ers ; " But," said she, " it shall be the dearest book that ever 
 dean or cardinal detained." She then hastened to the king, 
 and entreated that he would interpose to recover her stolen 
 volume, a request with which he instantly complied. The first 
 use she made of her recovered treasure was to entreat the 
 king to examine it. This circumstance is supposed to have 
 precipitated the fall of Wolsey. Anne Boleyn had not forgiven, 
 she never did forgive, the interference which had deprived 
 her of her first love, Percy. The anger she had conceived 
 against the cardinal on that occasion remained, after a lapse of 
 six years, an unquenchable fire. In the hojje of making him 
 an instrument in her aggrandizement, she had, as we have 
 seen, condescended to employ the arts of flattery, till she per- 
 ceived that he was playing a game as fine and as false with 
 lier as she with him, and that it was no part of his intention to 
 make her an amend for the loss of a countess's coronet by as- 
 sisting her to encircle her brow with a queenly diadem. Anne 
 dissembled no longer than till Wolsey (entangled in the 
 perplexities of the net he had Avoven for his own destruction) 
 had committed himself irrevocably with the queen, and at the 
 same time incurred the suspicions of the king by his sinuous 
 conduct. She then placed in Henry's hands letters written 
 by the cardinal to Rome, which aflibrded proofs of his duplici- 
 ty. These she had obtained from her kinsman. Sir Francis 
 Bryan, and they weighed heavily against the minister. 
 
 Having once declared her hostility, Anne was not of a tem- 
 per to recede: she pursued her advantage with steady implac- 
 ability, and in this she was fiercely seconded by her uncle 
 Norfolk and the Duke of Sufiblk, Henry's brother-in-law ; for 
 Anne Boleyn held no terras with any one who showed him 
 pity ; nor did she rest till she had succeeded in obtaining his 
 arrest for high treason, after he had retired to Cawood, near 
 York, when, as if to bring to his mind the cause that had in- 
 curred this deadly hatred, her former lover, Percy, then Earl 
 of Northumberland, was the person employed to execute the 
 royal warrant. The happiness of this young nobleman had 
 been irreparably blighted by his separation from the woman 
 of his heart, and his compulsory marriage with another. He 
 trembled with violent agitation when he arrested Wolsey, 
 whom he treated in a very ignominious manner, causing his 
 legs to be bound to the stirrups of his mule like a common 
 malefactor. The unhappy prisoner expired at Leicester. 
 
 In the spring of 1530, Anne's father, now Earl of Wiltshire, 
 
1530.] ANNE BOLEYN. 245 
 
 was appointed, with several eminent divines, to attend the 
 congress between the Pope and the Emperor at Bologna, on 
 the part of" Henry VIII. The earl, when introduced into the 
 presence of Clement, gave great offense by refusing to comply 
 with the usual ceremony of kissing his holiness's toe, and, if 
 we may believe Foxe, " his lordship's dog made matters worse 
 by biting it." Cromwell's bold expedient of separating En- 
 gland from the papal see smoothed Anne Boleyn's path to the 
 queenly chair. As a preparatory step for her elevation to a 
 still higher rank, Henry created Anne Boleyn Marchioness of 
 Pembroke. Many instances had occurred of great peerages 
 falling to ladies, but this is the first of a female peer being- 
 created. Anne was then residing, with almost queenly pomp, 
 at Windsor Castle, and there the ceremony took place Avhich 
 made her a peeress of the realm. 
 
 On the 13th of October, Anne, attended by the Marchioness 
 of Derby and a chosen retinue of ladies, arrived at Dover with 
 the king ; and early on the following morning they all em- 
 barked for Calais, where they arrived at ten in the forenoon. 
 Though Anne sojourned four days with Henry at Boulogne, 
 the absence of the ladies of the French king's family prevent- 
 ed her from appearing at the festivities that were provided 
 for her royal lover. On the 25th, she returned with the two 
 kings to Calais. " After supper on the Sunday evening, 28th of 
 October, came in the Marchioness of Pembroke, with seven 
 ladies in masking apparel of strange fashion, made of cloth of 
 gold slashed with crimson tinsel satin, puffed with cloth of sil- 
 ver and knit with laces of gold. These ladies were led into the 
 state chamber by four damsels dressed in crimson satin, with 
 tabards of pine Cyprus. Then the lady marchioness took the 
 French king, and every lady took a lord. In dancing. King 
 Henry removed the ladies' visors, so that their beauties were 
 shown." The French king then discovered that he had danced 
 with an old acquaintance, the lovely English maid of honor 
 to his first queen. He conversed with her some little time 
 apart, and the next morning sent as a present a jewel valued 
 at 15,000 crowns. On the 30th of this festive month, "the 
 two sovereigns mounted their horses, and Henry having con- 
 ducted his royal guest to the verge of his dominions^ they dis- 
 mounted on French ground ; and there they joined bands 
 with loving behavior and hearty words, embraced each other, 
 and so parted." The weather was so tempestuous that Anne 
 and her royal lover were detained a fortnight at Calais after 
 the departure of Francis I. On the 14th of November they 
 safely crossed the Channel, and landed at Dover. 
 
246 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1533. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The time and place of Anne Boleyn's marriage witli Henry 
 VIII. are disputed points in history. Some authors have af- 
 firmed that she was privately united to the king at Dover the 
 same day they returned from France. The unpopularity of 
 this union was the cause of the profound seci'ecy with which 
 the nuptials between Henry and his fair subject were solem- 
 nized ; for the same cause it was necessary to keep the fact 
 from publicity as long as it was possible to do so. 
 
 The testimony of Wyatt, however, who was not only a con- 
 temporary, but a witness too deeply interested not to be cor- 
 rect on such a point, confirms the assertions of Stowe and God- 
 win that this event, so fatal to the bride, who was to purchase 
 the brief possession of a crown with the loss of her head, took 
 place on St. Paul's Day, January 25, 1533. "On the morning 
 of that day, at a very early hour," says a contemporary, " Dr. 
 Rowland Lee, one of the royal chaj^lains, received the un- 
 wonted order to celebrate mass in an unfrequented attic in the 
 west turret of Whitehall. There he found the king, attended 
 by Norris and Heneage, two of the grooms of the chamber, 
 and the Marchioness of Pembroke, accompanied by her train- 
 bearer, Anne Saville, afterward Lady Berkeley. On being re- 
 quired to perform the nuptial rite between his sovereign and 
 the marchioness, in the presence of the three witnesses assem- 
 bled, the chaplain hesitated. Henry is said to have assured 
 him that the Pope had pronounced in favor of the divorce, 
 and that he had the dispensation for a second marriage in his 
 possession. As soon as the marriage ceremony had been per- 
 formed the parties separated in silence before it was light, and 
 Viscount Rochford, the brother of the bride, was dispatched 
 to announce the event in confidence to Francis I. 
 
 Anne remained in great retirement, as the nature of the case 
 required, for her royal consort was still, in the opinion of the 
 majority of his subjects, the husband of another lady. It was, 
 however, found impossible to conceal the marriage without 
 affecting the legitimacy of the expected heir to the crown. 
 For this cause, therefore, on Easter Eve, which this year was 
 April 12, the king again openly solemnized his marriage with 
 Anne Boleyn, and she went in state as his queen. " On the 
 
1533.] ANNE BOLEYN. 247 
 
 8th of May, Cranraer presided at the pubhc tribunal at Dun- 
 stable, which it was thought expedient to hold on the former 
 marriage. The proceedings terminated May 23, Avhen Cran- 
 mer pronounced, not a divorce, but a sentence that the king's 
 marriage with Katharine had been, and was, a nullity and in- 
 valid, having been contracted against the Divine law. Five 
 days after, he gave at Lambeth a judicial confirmation to 
 Henry's union with Anne Boleyn." 
 
 As early as the 2Sth of April, Henry issued his letters of 
 summons to the wives of his peers, requiring them " to give 
 their attendance, they and their Avomen, at the approaching 
 solemnity of his dearest wife Queen Anne's procession from 
 Greenwich to the Tower, and at her coronation, on the feast of 
 Pentecost ; wherefore he requires them to be at his manor of 
 Greenwich on the Friday before that feast, to attend his said 
 queen from thence to the Tower of London that day, and the 
 next day to ride through the city of London with her on horse- 
 back." In obedience to the royal order, the lord-mayor and 
 his civic train embarked at New stairs at one o'clock. May 19. 
 Fifty barges of the city companies followed the lord-mayor. 
 Every one in London who could procure boat or wherry em- 
 barked on the Thames that May morning, and accompanied 
 the chief of the city to Greenwich. 
 
 The barges were fitted up with innumerable little colored 
 flags ; at the end of each hung a small bell which, wavering in 
 the wind, sent forth a low chime. The lord-mayor and his 
 attendant flotilla cast anchor just before Greenwich Palace, 
 and while they waited the queen's pleasure made the goodliest 
 melody. Precisely at three o'clock Anne issued from her 
 palace, attired in cloth of gold, and attended by a fair bevy of 
 maidens. When the queen entered her barge, those of the 
 citizens moved forward. The barge of her father the Earl of 
 Wiltshire, that of the Duke of Suffolk, and many of the nobil- 
 ity, followed that of the queen. At her landing the lord- 
 chamberlain and the heralds were ready to receive her, and 
 brought her to the king, who, with loving countenance, wel- 
 comed her at the postern by the water-side. As soon as he 
 met her, he kissed hei', and she turned about and thanked the 
 lord-mayor very gracefully before he returned to his barge. 
 In the midst of that picturesque splendor who could have an- 
 ticipated what was in store for Anne Boleyn on the second 
 anniversary of that gay and glorious day? and what was to 
 be transacted within the gloomy circle of that royal fortress, 
 of which she then took such proud possession, when May 19 
 had twice returned asfain ? 
 
248 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1533. 
 
 The queen sojourned with lier husband at the Tower some 
 days, during which time seventeen young noblemen and gen- 
 tlemen were made knights of the Bath, as attendants on her 
 coronation. The royal progress through the city, which was 
 usual to all the queens her predecessors on the eve of their 
 coronations, was appointed for Anne Boleyn on the last day 
 of May. 
 
 The queen was conveyed in an open litter covered with 
 cloth of gold shot with white, and the two palfreys which 
 supported the litter were clad, heads and all, in a garb of 
 white damask, and w^ere led by the queen's footmen. Anne 
 was dressed in a surcoat of silver tissue, and a mantle of the 
 same, lined with ermine ; her dark tresses were worn flowing 
 down lier shoulders, but on her head she wore a coif with a 
 cii'clet of precious rubies. Over her was borne a canopy of 
 cloth of gold, carried by four knights on foot. She was fol- 
 lowed by her ofiicers of state and ladies. Thus the queen 
 was brought to Westminster Hall, whicli was richly hung 
 with golden arras and newly glazed. The queen rode in her 
 litter to the very midst of the hall, where she was taken out, 
 led up to the high dais, and placed under the canopy of state. 
 On the left side was a cupboard often stages, filled with cups 
 and goblets of gold marvelous to behold. In a short time 
 was brought to the queen " a solemn service in great standing 
 sjjice-plates, and a voide of spice (which was no other than 
 comfits or sugar-plums), besides ipocras and other wines, 
 which the queen sent down to her ladies. When they had 
 partaken, she gave thanks to the lord-mayor, and to the ladies 
 and nobles who had attended on her. She then withdrew 
 herself, Avith a few ladies, to the white hall, and changed her 
 dress, and remained with the king at Westminster that night. 
 
 The bright morrow was that coronation-day, on which the 
 heart and wishes of Anne Boleyn had been for so many years 
 steadfastly fixed. It was Whit Sunday, and the 1st of June — 
 of all days the most lovely in England, when the fresh smell 
 of spring still blends with early summer. That morning of 
 high festival saw the queen early at her toilet, for she entered 
 Westminster Hall with her ladies a little after eight, and 
 stood imder her canopy of state in her surcoat and mantle of 
 purple velvet, lined with ermine, and the circlet of rubies she 
 wore the preceding day. Then came the monks of West- 
 minster in rich copes, and the bishops and abbots in their 
 splendid copes and mitres. Ray-cloth (striped-cloth) was 
 spread all the way from the dais in Westminster Hall, through 
 the sanctuary and palace, up to the high altar in Westminster 
 
1533.J ANNE BOLEYN. 249 
 
 Abbey. She was crowned by Cranmer, Archbisbo]> of Can- 
 terbury. After mass was over she went to St. Edward's 
 shrine, and there offered, and withdrew into a little retiring- 
 room on one side of the choir. The nobility had in the mean 
 time assumed their coronets ; and when the queen had reposed 
 herself, she returned with the procession in the *former order, 
 excepting that the proud and triumphant father of the queen 
 supported her sceptre-hand, and on her left hand she Avas as- 
 sisted by Lord Talbot, as deputy for his father, tlie Earl of 
 Shrewsbury. Thus she was led into Westminster Hall, and 
 then to her withdrawing-chamber, where she waited till the 
 banquet was prepared, which took place with great magnifi- 
 cence. 
 
 Henr}^ notwithstanding his separation from the See of Rome, 
 was desirous of obtaining the Pope's sanction to his second 
 marriage, but the fulminations froni Clement Avere manifold 
 on the occasion of the interdicted nuptials. That pontiff an- 
 nulled Cranmer's sentence on Henry's first marriage, and on 
 the 11th of July published his bull, excommunicating Henry 
 and Anne, unless they separated before the ensuing Septem- 
 ber, when the new queen expected lier confinement. Henry 
 sent ambassadors to the foreign courts, announcing his mar- 
 riage with his fair subject, and his reasons for what he had 
 done. 
 
 At this season Anne enjoyed all that gi'andeur and power 
 could bestow. Henry, withal, in order to exalt her to the 
 utmost in her queenly dignity, caused her initial A to be 
 crowned and associated with his own regal H on the gold and 
 silver coins that Avere struck after their marriage. Henry 
 VHI. was the first and last monarch of England who offered 
 this compliment to his consorts — a brief and dearly purchased 
 honor it was to some of those imhappy ladies. Francis I. sent 
 very friendly messages and compliments of congratulation, by 
 Queen Anne's uncle Norfolk, not only to the king, but to her- 
 self, at which both were highly gratified. Henry, who fully 
 persuaded himself that the infant of which Anne expected 
 soon to be the mother would prove a son, invited King Fran- 
 cis to become its sponsor. Francis obligingly signified his 
 consent ; but, to the great disappointment of King Henry, on 
 the 7th of September, 1533, Queen Anne gave birth to a 
 daughter, afterward the renowned Queen Elizabeth. This 
 event took place in the old palace of Placentia at Greenwich. 
 
 The succession was entailed by act of Parliament on this 
 infant, in default of heirs-male ; persons were required at the 
 same time to acknowledge the king's supremacy, and to swear 
 
 L* 
 
250 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. t^l535. 
 
 fealty to the king's heirs by Queen Anne, which excluded the 
 Princess Mary from the succession. Fisher, Bishop of Roches- 
 ter, and Sir Thomas More refused to take this twofold oath, 
 on scruples of conscience ; both had previously enjoyed a 
 great degree of Henry's favor, both had much to lose and 
 nothing to g!tin by their rejection of a test which they regard- 
 ed as a snare. They were the fast friends of Queen Katha- 
 rine, and had incurred the animosity of her triumphant rival 
 by counseling the king against forsaking the wife of his youth. 
 The resentment of Anne Boleyn is supposed to have influenced 
 the king to bring these faithful servants to the scaifold. 
 
 The new Pope, Paul III., thundered forth his anathema 
 against Henry and Anne provided they did not separate, for- 
 bidding Henry's subjects to pay him their allegiance. Henry 
 fortified himself by seeking the alliance of the Protestant 
 princes of Germany. The decided opposition of the See of 
 Rome and the ecclesiastics of that Church against Anne 
 Boleyn's marriage with the king, and her recognition as Queen 
 of England, led her to espouse the cause of the infant Refor- 
 mation as a matter of party ; but as she adhered to all the 
 ceremonies of the Roman Catholic ritual, and professed the 
 doctrine of transubstantiation, a Protestant she can not be 
 called, with truth. The martyrdoms of Bilney, of Frith, and 
 several other pious reformers, were perpetrated while she was 
 in the height of her power; and though it would be unjust 
 to attribute to her the murderous cruelty exercised by Henry 
 and his spiritual advisers, there is no record of any interces- 
 sion used by her to preserve these blameless martyrs from 
 the flames. Yet it is scarcely likely that to have saved them 
 would have been a work of greater difticulty than compassing 
 the destruction of her political opponents. The only great 
 boon that the Reformation owes to Anne Boleyn is, that the 
 translation of the Scriptures was sanctioned through her in- 
 fluence. There is an interesting letter in Ellis's royal collec- 
 tion, signed " Anne the Queen," for the protection of a mer- 
 chant, who was involved in peril for importing from Holland 
 some of those precious copies of the Bible, which, as yet, were 
 contraband pearls of great price in England. Her own pri- 
 vate copy of Tindal's translation is still in existence. 
 
 In the autumn of the year 1535, Queen Anne was flattered 
 with the hope of bringing a male heir to the throne, to the 
 great joy of the king. Anne was now at the summit of human 
 greatness. She had won the great political game for which 
 she had vindictively entered the lists with the veteran states- 
 man who had separated her from the man of her heart ; she 
 
1535.] ANNE BOLEYN. 251 
 
 had wreaked the vengeance she had vowed for the loss of 
 Percy, and laid the pride and power of Wolsey in the dust; 
 she had wrested the crown-matrimonial from the brow of the 
 royal Katharine ; the laws of primogeniture had been reversed, 
 that the succession to the throne might be vested in her issue, 
 and the two men who were the most deservedly venerated by 
 the king and the people of England, More and Fisher, had 
 been sacrificed to her displeasure. But in all these triumphs 
 there was little to satisfy the mind of a woman whose natural 
 impulses were those of virtue, but who had violated the most 
 sacred ties for the gratification of the evil passions of pride, 
 vanity, and revenge. Anne Boleyn was a reader of the 
 Scriptures, and must have felt the awful force of that text 
 which says, " What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole 
 world and lose his own soul?" Conscious of her own respon- 
 sibility, and finding far more thorns than roses in the tangled, 
 weary labyrinth of greatness, Anne directed her thoughts to 
 the only true source of happiness — religion, which had hitherto 
 been practiced by her rather as a matter of state policy, than 
 as the emanation from a vital principle in the soul. She be- 
 caaie grave and composed in manner, and, ceasing to occupy 
 herself in the gay pursuits of pleasure, or the boisterous ex- 
 citement of the chase, spent her hours of domestic retirement 
 with her ladies, as her roj-^al mistress Katharine had formerly 
 done before her — in needlework and discreet communication. 
 Wyatt tells us that the matchless tapestry at Hampton Court 
 was for the most part wrought by the skillful hand of this 
 queen and her ladies ; " But far more precious," he says, " in 
 the sight of God, were those works which slie caused her 
 maidens and those about her daily to execute in shirts and 
 other garments for the use of the poor; and not contented 
 with that, her eye of charity, her hand of bounty, passed 
 through the whole land : each place felt that heavenly flame 
 burning in her — all times will remember it." 
 
 The change that had taken place in the mannei's of Anne 
 Boleyn and her court has been attributed to the influence of 
 the celebrated reformer, Hugh Latimer, whom she had rescued 
 from the durance to which Stokesley, Bishop of London, had 
 committed him. But for the powei'ful protection of Anne, 
 Latimer would, in all probability, have been called to testify 
 the sincerity of his principles at the stake five-and-twenty years 
 before he was clothed with the fiery robes of martyrdom. At** 
 her earnest solicitation the king interposed, and Latimer was 
 restored to liberty. The queen next expressed a wish to see 
 and hear the rescued preacher ; and Latimer, instead of ad- 
 
252 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1535. 
 
 dressing his royal pi'otectress in the language of servile adula- 
 tion, reminded her of the vanity of earthly greatness, and the 
 delusions of human hopes and expectations. Anne listened 
 with humility, and entreated him to point out whatever ap- 
 peared amiss in her conduct and deportment. Latimer, in 
 reply, seriously represented to her how much it behooved her, 
 not only to impress the duties of morality and piety on her 
 attendants, but to enforce her precepts by example. Anne, 
 far from being offended at his sincerity, appointed him for one 
 of her chaplains, and afterward obtained his promotion to the 
 See of Worcester. To her credit it is also recorded, that she 
 directed a certain sum from her privy-purse to be distributed 
 to every village in England, for the relief of its distressed in- 
 habitants. With greater wisdom she planned the institution 
 of a variety of manufactures, with a view of giving more per- 
 manent assistance to those who were destitute of a livelihood, 
 and without employment. For the last nine months of her 
 life she distributed 14,000/. in alms; she also caused many 
 promising youths to be educated and sent to college at her ex- 
 pense, with the intention of rendering their talents and learn- 
 ing serviceable in the Church. In all these things Anne per- 
 formed the duties of a good woman and an enlightened queen ; 
 and had she attained to her royal elevation in an honest and 
 conscientious manner, in all probability the blessing of God 
 would have been with her, and prospered her undertakings. 
 But however powerful her religious impressions might have 
 been, it is impossible that a real change of heart had taken 
 place while she continued to incite the king to harass and per- 
 secute his forsaken Queen Katharine, by depriving her of the 
 solace of her daughter's company, and exacting from the disin- 
 herited princess submissions from which conscience and nature 
 alike revolted. There were moments when Anne felt the inse- 
 curity of her position in a political point of view, and well 
 must she have known how little reliance was to be placed on 
 the stability of the regard of the man whose caprice had placed 
 the queenly diadem on her brow. At the best, she was only 
 the queen of a party, for the majority of the nobles and people 
 of England still regarded Katharine as the lawful possessor of 
 the title and place which Henry had bestowed on Anne. 
 When the long expected tidings of Katharine's death arrived, 
 ^A.nne, in the blindness of her exultation, exclaimed, " Now I am 
 indeed a queen." It is said that she was washing her hands 
 in a costly basin when Sir Richard Southwell brought the in- 
 telligence to her, on which she instantly gave him both the 
 basin and its rich cover as a reward for his tidinQS. The same 
 
1536.] ANNE BOLEYN. 253 
 
 evening she met hei' parents witli a, countenance full of pleas- 
 ure, and bade them rejoice with her, for the crown Avas now 
 fii-mly fixed on her head. On the day of her royal rival's fu- 
 neral she not only disobeyed the king's order which required 
 black to be worn on that day, but violated good taste and good 
 feeling alike by appearing in yellow, and making her ladies 
 do the same. The change in Henry's feelings toward Anne 
 may, in all probability, be attributed to the disgust caused by 
 the indelicacy of her triumph. She had been ill and out of spir- 
 its previously to this event, which was attributed to the suffer- 
 ings incidental to her condition, for she was again likely to 
 become a mother; but after the death of Queen Katharine she 
 recovered her vivacity, and assumed so haughty a carriage that 
 she offended every one. 
 
 The season was now at hand when Anne was, in her turn, 
 to experience some of the bitter pangs she had inflicted on 
 her royal mistress, when she, in like manner, found herself ri- 
 valed and supplanted by one of her female attendants, ibe 
 beautiful Jane Seymour. Jane must have been a person of 
 consummate art, for she was on terms of great familiarity with 
 the king before Anne entertained the slightest suspicion of 
 their proceedings. Entering the room unexpectedly one day, 
 the queen surprised Jane seated on Henry's knee, receiving 
 his caresses with every appearance of complacency. Struck, 
 as with a mortal blow, at this sight, Anne gave way to a 
 transport of mingled grief and indignation. Henry, dreading 
 his consort's agitation might prove fatal to his hopes of an heir, 
 endeavored to soothe and reassure her, saying, " Be at peace, 
 sweetheart, and all shall go well for thee." But the cruel shock 
 Anne had sustained brought on the pangs of premature trav- 
 ail, and she brought forth a dead son, January 29. 
 
 When the king was informed of this misfortune, instead of 
 expressing the slightest sympathy for the sufferings of his luck- 
 less consort, he burst into her apartment, and furiously upbraid- 
 ed her " with the loss of his boy." Anne, with more spirit 
 than prudence, passionately retorted, "That he had no one 
 to blame but himself for this disappointment, which had been 
 caused by her distress of mind." Henry sullenly turned away, 
 muttering, as he quitted her apartment, that " she should have 
 no more boys by him." These scenes, which occurred in Jan- 
 uary, 1536, may surely be regarded as the first act of the roy^ 
 matrimonial tragedy which, four montlis later, was consum- 
 mated on Tower Hill. 
 
 Anne slowly regained her health after her dangerous ac- 
 couchement and painful disaj)pointment, but not her spirits. 
 
254 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [153G. 
 
 She knew the king's temper too well not to be aware that her 
 influence was at an end forever, and that she must prepare to 
 resign, not only her place in his affections, but also in his state, 
 to the new star by whom she had been eclipsed. When she 
 found that she had no power to obtain the dismissal of her ri- 
 val from the royal household, she became very melancholy, 
 and withdrew herself from all the gayeties of the court, pass- 
 ing all her time in the most secluded spots of Greenwich Park. 
 It is also related that she would sit for hours in the quadran- 
 gle court of Greenwich Palace in silence and abstraction, or 
 seeking a joyless pastime in playing with her little dogs, and 
 setting them to fight with each other. The king had entirely 
 withdrawn himself from her company ever since her rash re- 
 tort to his unfeeling reproach, and now they never met in pri- 
 vate. She had not the consolation of her infant daughter's in- 
 nocent smiles and endearments to beguile her lonely sorrow, 
 for the Princess Elizabeth was nursed in a separate establish- 
 ment, and the sweet tie of maternity had been sacrificed to the 
 heartless parade of stately ceremonials. She had alienated the 
 regard and acquired the enmity of her uncle Norfolk ; Suf- 
 folk, Henry's principal favorite, M'as one of her greatest foes. 
 - The king's impatience to rid himself of the matrimonial fet- 
 ters, which precluded him from sharing his throne with the 
 object of his new passion, would not brook delays, and, in the 
 absence of any proof of the queen's disloyalty to himself, he 
 resolved to proceed against her on the evidence of the invidi- 
 ous gossips' tales that had been whispered to him by persons 
 who knew that he was seeking an occasion to destroy her. 
 Three gentlemen of the royal household, Brereton, Weston, 
 and Norris, with Mark Smeaton the musician, were pointed 
 out as her paramours ; and, as if this had not been enough, 
 the natural and innocent afiection that subsisted between 
 Anne and her only brother, George, Viscount Rochford, was 
 construed into a presumption of a crime of the most revolting 
 nature. This dreadful accusation proceeded from the hatred 
 and jealousy of Lady Rochford, who, being in all probability 
 an ill-assorted companion for her accomplished husband, re- 
 garded his friendship and confidential intercourse with the 
 queen, his sister, with those malignant feelings of displeasure 
 which prompted her murderous denunciation of them both. 
 On Monday, May the 1st — an evil May Day for her — Anne 
 ^oleyn appeared for the last time in the pride and pomp of 
 royalty with her treacherous consort, at the jousts at Green- 
 wich. Her brother, Viscount Rochford, was the principal 
 challenger, Henry Norris one of the defenders. In the midst 
 
1536.] ANNE BOLEYN. 255 
 
 of the pageant, which was unusually splendid, the king rose 
 up abruptly, and quitted the royal balcony with a wrathful 
 countenance, followed by six of his confidential attendants. 
 Every one was amazed, but the queen appeared especially dis- 
 mayed, and presently retired. The sports broke up, and 
 Lord Rochford and Henry Norris were arrested at the bai-- 
 rier on the charge of high treason ; Sir Francis Weston was 
 taken into custody at the same time. The popular version of 
 the cause of this public outbreak of Henry's displeasure is, 
 that the queen, either by accident or design, dropped her hand- 
 kerchief from the balcony at the feet of Norris, who, being 
 heated with the course, took it up, and, it is said, presumptu- 
 ously wiped his face with it ; then handed it to the queen on 
 the point of his lance. At this Henry changed color, started 
 from his seat, and retired in a transport of jealous fury, and 
 gave orders for the arrest of the queen, and all the parties who 
 had fallen under suspicion of sharing her favors. 
 
 It is very possible that the circumstances actually occurred 
 as related above, and that Henry, who was anxiously awaiting 
 an opportunity for putting his long meditated project against 
 the queen into execution, eagerly availed himself of the first 
 pretext with which her imprudent disregard of the restraints 
 of royal etiquette furnished him, to strike the blow. Without 
 speaking to the queen, the king rode back to Whitehall, at- 
 tended by only six persons, among whom was his devoted 
 prisoner Norris, who had hitherto stood so high in his favor 
 that he was the only person whom he ever permitted to fol- 
 low him into his bed-chamber : Norris had been, as we have 
 mentioned, one of the three witnesses of Henry's secret mar- 
 riage with Anne. On the way, Henry rode with Norris apart, 
 and earnestly solicited him to obtain mercy by acknowledg- 
 ing his guilt. Norris stoutly maintained his innocence, and 
 that of the queen, nor would he consent to be rendered an 
 instrument in her ruin. When they reached Westminster, 
 he was dispatched to the Tower. 
 
 The public arrest of her brother and his luckless friends 
 struck a chill to the heart of the queen ; but of the nature of 
 their offense and that she was herself to be involved in the 
 horrible charges against them, she remained in perfect uncon- 
 sciousness till the following day. She sat down to dinner at 
 the ixsual hour, but the meal passed over uneasily, for she 
 took the alarm when she found that the king's waiter came' 
 not with his majesty's wonted compliment of " Much good 
 may it do you." Instead of this greeting, she noted a por- 
 tentous silence among her ladies, and that her servants stood 
 
256 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [lo3G. 
 
 about witli downcast looks, their eyes glazed with tears, which 
 inspired her with dismay and strange apprehensions. Scarce- 
 ly was the surnap removed, when the Duke of Norfolk, with 
 Audley, Cromwell^ and others of the lords of the council, en- 
 tered. At first, Anne thought they came from the king to 
 comfort her for her brother's arrest, but when she noticed the 
 austerity of their countenances, and the ominous presence of 
 Sir William Kingston, the lieutenant of the Tower, behind 
 them, she started up in terror, and demanded '• why they 
 came ?" They replied, with stern brevity, " that they came 
 by the king's command to conduct her to the Tower, there 
 to abide during his highness's pleasure." — " If it be his majes- 
 ty's pleasure," rejoined the queen, regaining her firmness, " I 
 am ready to obey ;" and so, pursues our authority, " Avithout 
 change of habit, or any thing necessary for her removal, she 
 committed herself to them, and was by them conducted to 
 her barge." It is, however, certain, from the evidence of 
 Kingston's letters, that she underwent a harsh examination 
 before the council at Greenwich before her embarkation, un- 
 less the cruel treatment, which she complained of receiving 
 from her uncle Norfolk on that occasion, took place in the 
 barge, where, it is said, she was scarcely seated, ere he enter- 
 ed into the subject of her arrest, by telling her " that her 
 paramours had confessed their guilt." She protested her in- 
 nocence vehemently, and passionately implored to be permit- 
 ted to see the king, that she might plead her own cause to 
 liim. To all her asseverations of innocence the Duke of Nor- 
 folk replied with contemptuous ejaculations. 
 
 It was on the 2d of May that Anne was brought as a woful 
 prisoner to her former royal residence — the Tower. Before 
 she passed beneath its fatal arch she sank upon her knees, as 
 she had previously done in the barge, and exclaimed, " O 
 Lord ! help me, as I am guiltless of that whereof I am ac- 
 cused !" Then perceiving the lieutenant of the Tower, she 
 said, "Mr. Kingston, do I go into a dungeon?" — "No, 
 madam," said he, " to your own lodging, where you lay at 
 your coronation." The recollections associated with that event 
 overpowered her, and, bursting into a passion of tears, she ex- 
 claimed, " It is too good for me. Jesus have mercy on me I" 
 She knelt again, weeping apace, " and, in the same sorrow, 
 fell into a great laughter" — laughter more sad than tears. 
 After the hysterical paroxysm had had its way, she looked 
 wildly about her, and cried, " Wherefore am I here, Mr. King- 
 ston ?" 
 
 The clock had been just on the stroke of five when Anne 
 
1536.] ANNE BOLEYN. 257 
 
 entered the Tower. The lords, with the lieutenant, brought 
 her to her chamber, where she again protested her innocence. 
 Then, turning to the lords, she said, " I entreat you to beseecli 
 the king in my behalf, that he will be a good lord unto me ;" 
 as soon as she had uttered these words they departed. She 
 protested in the strongest terms her innocence of having 
 wronged the king. " I am the king's true wedded wife," she 
 added ; and then said, " Mr. Kingston, do you know wherefore 
 I am here ?" — " Nay," replied he. Then she asked, " When 
 saw you the king ?" — " I saw him not since I saw him in the 
 tilt-yard," said he. " Then, Mr. Kingston, I pray you to tell 
 me where my Lord Rochforcl is?" Kingston answered, " I saw 
 him before dinner in the court." — "Oh! Avhere is my sweet 
 brother?" she exclaimed. The lieutenant evasively replied, 
 "That he saw him last at York Place" (Whitehall Palace), 
 which it seems was the case. "I hear say," continued she, 
 " that I shall be accused with three men, and I can say iio more 
 than — nay. Oh, Norris ! hast thou accused me ? Thou art 
 in the Tower, and thou and I shall die together: and, Mai-k, 
 thou art here too! Mr. Kingston," she exclaimed, "shall I 
 die without justice?" — "The poorest subject the king hath 
 has that," replied the cautious official. A laugh of bitter in- 
 credulity Avas her only comment. 
 
 The unfortunate queen was subjected to the insulting pres- 
 ence and cruel espionage of her great enemy, Lady Boleyn, 
 and Mrs. Cosyns, one of her ladies, who was equally disagreea- 
 ble to her. These two never left her, either by day or night, 
 for they slept on tlie pallet at the foot of her bed, and report- 
 ed even the delirious ravings of her hysterical paroxysms to 
 those by whom her fate was to be decided. They perpetually 
 tormented her with insolent observations, and annoyed hei" 
 with questions, artfully devised, for the purpose of entangling 
 her in her talk, or drawing from her own lips admissions that 
 might be turned into murderous evidence of her guilt. She 
 complained " that they would tell her nothing of my lord, her 
 father," for whose fate she was evidently apprehensive. She 
 expressed a wish to be served in her prison by the ladies of 
 her privy-chamber whom she favored most, and concluded by 
 defying her aunt. Lady Boleyn retorted in these words : 
 " The desire and partiality you have had for such tale-bearers 
 has brought you to this." In Kingston's letters to Cromwell, 
 her minutest sayings are detailed ; but it is to be observed, 
 that he often speaks from the reports of her pitiless female 
 tormentors. 
 
 There were times when Anne would not believe that Henry 
 
258 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [153G. 
 
 intended to harm her ; and after complaining that she was 
 cruelly handled, she added, "But I think the king does it to 
 prove me ;" and then she laughed, and affected to be very mer- 
 ry — merriment reminding us of 
 
 "Moody madness, laughing wild 
 Amidst severest wo." 
 
 Reason must indeed have tottered when she predicted "that 
 there would be no rain in England till she was released from 
 her unmerited thraldom," To this wild speech Kingston fa- 
 miliarly rejoined, " I pray, then, it be shortly, because of the 
 dry weather." 
 
 Anne entreated Kingston to convey a letter from her to 
 Cromwell, but he declined so perilous a service. She was, at 
 times, like a newly-caged eagle in her impatience and despair. 
 "The king wist what he did," she said, bitterly, " when he put 
 such women as my Lady Boleyn and Mrs. Cosyns about me." 
 She had two other ladies in attendance on her in her doleful 
 prison-house, of more compassionate dispositions, we may pre- 
 sume, for they were not allowed to have any communication 
 with her, except in the presence of Kingston and his wife, 
 who slept at her chamber door. 
 
 On the 10th of May, an indictment for high treason was 
 found by the grand jury of Westminster " against the Lady 
 Anne, Queen of England ; George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford ; 
 Henry Norris, groom of the stole ; Sir Francis Weston, and 
 William Brereton, gentlemen of the privy-chamber ; and Mark 
 Smeaton, a performer on musical instruments. Smeaton en- 
 deavored to save his life by pleading guilty to the indictment. 
 He had previously confessed, before the council, the crime 
 with which he and the queen were charged. The three gen- 
 tlemen, Norris, Weston, and Brereton, resolutely maintained 
 their innocence and that of their royal mistress, though urged 
 by every persuasive, even the promise of mercy, if they would 
 confess. They j)ersisted in their plea, and were all condemn- 
 ed to death. 
 
 In that reign of terror, English liberty and English law 
 were empty words. Almost every person whom Henry VIH. 
 brought to trial for high treason was condemned as a matter 
 of course ; and at last he omitted the ceremony of trials at all, 
 and slew his noble and royal victims by acts of attainder. 
 
 Queen Anne and her brother. Lord Rochford, were brought 
 to trial May 16, in a temporary building which had been has- 
 tily erected for that purpose Avithiu the great hall in the Tow- 
 er. There were then fifty-three peers of England ; but from 
 
1536.] ANNE BOLEYN. 259 
 
 this body tweuty-six were named by the king as " lords triers," 
 under the direction of the Duke of Norfolk, who was created 
 lord high-steward for the occasion, and sat under the cloth of 
 state. The duke's hostility to his unfortunate niece had al- 
 ready betrayed him into the cruelty of brow-beating and in- 
 sulting her in her examination before the council at Green- 
 wich. The Earl of Northumberland, Anne's first lover, was 
 named on the commission for her trial. He appeared in his 
 place, but was taken suddenly ill, the effect, no doubt, of vio- 
 lent agitation, and quitted the court before the arraignment of 
 the Lord Rochford, which preceded that of the queen. He 
 died a few months afterward. 
 
 Lady Rochford outraged all decency by appearing as a wit- 
 ness against her husband. Rochford defended himself with 
 great spirit and eloquence, so that his judges were at first di- 
 vided, and, had the whole body of the peers been present, he 
 might have had a chance of acquittal ; but the lords triers were 
 a number selected by the crown for this service. The trial 
 was conducted within strong walls, the jurors were picked 
 men, and by their verdict the noble prisoner was found guilty. 
 After he was removed, Anne, Queen of England, was called 
 into court by a gentleman usher. She appeared immediately 
 in answer to the summons, attended by her ladies and Lady 
 Kingston, and was led to the bar by the lieutenant and the con- 
 stable of the Tower. The royal prisoner had neither counsel 
 nor adviser of any kind, but she had rallied all the energies of 
 her mind to meet the awful crisis : neither female terror nor 
 hysterical agitation Avere perceptible in that hour. She pre- 
 sented herself at the bar with the true dignity of a queen, and 
 courtesied to her judges, looking round upon them all without 
 any sign of fear. Neither does it appear that there was any 
 thing like parade or attempt at theatrical effect in her manner, 
 for her deportment was modest and cheerful. When the in- 
 dictment was read, which charged her with such offenses as 
 never Christian queen had been arraigned for before, she held 
 up her hand courageously, and pleaded " not guilty." She 
 then seated herself in the chair which had been provided for 
 her use while the evidence against her Avas stated. 
 
 The crimes of which she was accused were, that she had 
 wronged the king her husband at various times, with the four 
 persons above named, and also with her brother, Lord Roch- 
 ford : that she had said to each and every one of those per- 
 sons, that the Icing never had her heart : that she privately 
 told each, separately, "that she loved him better than any 
 person in the world." To this was added " a charge of con- 
 
260 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1536. 
 
 spiring against the king's life." The queen defended her own 
 cause with ready wit and great eloquence. " It was reported 
 without the doors, that she had cleared herself in a most wise 
 and noble speech." Another of the floating rumors that were 
 in circulation among the people before the event of her trial 
 was publicly known, was, that having a quick wit, and being a 
 ready speaker, the queen did so answer all objections, that 
 her acquittal was expected. The decision of the peers is 
 not required, like the verdict of a jury, to be unanimous, but 
 is carried by a majority. If all had voted, no doubt but she 
 would have been saved. After the verdict was declared, the 
 queen was required to lay aside her crown and other insignia 
 of royalty. This she did without oftering an objection, save 
 that she protested her innocence of having ofiended against 
 the king. 
 
 This ceremony was prepai'atory to her sentence, which was 
 pronounced by her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, as lord high- 
 steward of England, and president of the court commissioned 
 for her trial. She was condemned to be burnt or beheaded, 
 at the king's pleasure. Anne Boleyn heard this dreadful 
 doom Avithout changing color or betraying the slightest 
 symptom of terror ; but when her stern kinsman and judge 
 had ended, she clasped her hands, and raising her eyes to 
 Heaven, made her ap])eal to a higher tribunal in these words : 
 " Oh, Father ! oh. Creator ! Thou, who art the way, the life, 
 and the truth, knowest whether I have deserved this death." 
 Then turning to her earthly judges, she said, "My Lords, I 
 will not say your sentence is unjust, nor presume that my rea- 
 sons can prevail against your convictions. I am willing to 
 believe that you have suflicient reasons for what you have 
 done; but then they must be other than those which have 
 been produced in court, for I am clear of all the offenses which 
 you then laid to my charge. I have ever been a foithful wife 
 to the king, though I do not say I have always shown hini 
 that humility which his goodness to me and the honor to which 
 he raised me merited. I confess I have had jealous fancies 
 and suspicions of him, which I had not discretion and wisdom 
 enough to conceal at all times. But God knows, and is my 
 witness, that I never sinned against him in any other way. 
 Think not I say this in the hope to prolong my life. God hath 
 taught me how to die, and he will strengthen my faith. Think 
 not that I am so bewildered in my mind as not to lay the honor 
 of ray chastity to heart now in mine extremity, when I have 
 maintained it all my life long, as much as ever queen did. I 
 know these my last words will avail me nothing but for the jus- 
 
153C.] ANNE BOLEYN. 261 
 
 tification of my cliasity and honor. As for my brother, and those 
 others who are unjustly condemned, I would willingly sutler 
 many deaths to deliver them ; but, since I see it so pleases 
 the king, I shall willingly accompany them in death, Avith this 
 assurance, ^hat I shall lead an endless life with them in peace," 
 Then with a composed air she rose up, made a parting salu- 
 tation to her judges, and left the court as she had entered it. 
 
 The lord-mayor, who was present at the arraignment of Anne 
 Boleyn, said afterward, that "Ae could not observe any thing 
 in the proceedings against her but that they were resolved to 
 make an occasion to get rid of her." As the chief judge in 
 the civic court of judicature, and previously as an alderman of 
 the city of London, this magistrate had been accustomed to 
 weigh evidences and pronounce judgments on criminal causes, 
 therefore his opinion is of importance in this case. Camden tells 
 us that the spectators deemed Anne innocent, and merely cir- 
 cumvented. This accords with the lord-mayor's opinion. 
 Smeaton Avas not confronted with her, and, as far as can be 
 gathered of the grounds of her condemnation, it must have 
 been on his confession only. It is said she objected " that 
 one Avitness Avas not enough to convict a person of high trea- 
 son," but Avas told "that in her case it loas sufficient." In 
 these days the queen Avould have had the liberty of cross-ques- 
 tioning the Avitnesses against her, either personally or by fear- 
 less and skillful advocates. Moreover, it Avould have been in 
 her poAverto have summoned even her late attendant. Mistress 
 Jane Seymour, as one of her witnesses. The result of that 
 lady's examination might have elicited some curious facts. 
 After her trial, Anne Avas conveyed back to her chamber, the 
 Lady Boleyn, her aunt, and Lady Kingston only attending 
 her. 
 
 The same day the king signed the death-Avarrant of his once 
 passionately loved consort, and sent Cranmer to receive her 
 last confession. Anne appeared to derive comfort and hope 
 from the primate's visit — hope, even of life ; for she told those 
 about her, " that she understood she Avas to be banished, and 
 she supposed she should be sent to AntAvei'p." Cranmer Avas 
 .^Avare of Henry's wish of dissolving the marriage Avith Anne 
 Boleyn, in order to dispossess the little Princess Elizabeth of 
 the place she had been given in the succession, and he had 
 probably persuaded the unfortunate queen not to oppose 
 his majesty's pleasure in that matter. The flattering idea of 
 a reprieve from death must have been siaggested to Anne, in 
 order to induce her compliance with a measure so repugnant 
 to her natural disposition and her present frame of mind. 
 
262 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1536. 
 
 When she was brought as a guarded prisoner from Greenwich 
 to the Tower, she had told the unfriendly spectators of her dis- 
 grace " that they could not prevent her from dying their queen," 
 accompanying these proud words with a haughty gesticula- 
 tion of her neck. Yet we find her, only the day after her 
 conference with the archbishop, submitting to resign this dearly 
 prized and fatally purchased dignity without a struggle. 
 
 Great Seal of llcnvy VIII. 
 
 She received. May 1 7, a summons to appear in the archbish- 
 op's court at Lambeth, to answer certain questions as to the 
 validity of her marriage with the king. She was compelled to at 
 tend in person, and was conveyed privately from the Tower to 
 Lambeth. The place where this strange scene in the closing 
 act of Anne Boleyn's tragedy was performed, was, we are 
 told, a certain low chapel or crypt in Cranmer's house at Lam- 
 beth, where, as primate of England, he sat in judgment on 
 the validity of her marriage with the king. The unfortunate 
 queen admitted the pre-contract with Percy, and every other 
 objection that was urged by the king against the legality 
 of the marriage. Cranmer pronounced " that the marriage 
 between Hem-y and Anne was null and void, and always had 
 been so." Perhaps she now submitted in the fond hope of pre- 
 serving, not only her own life, but that of her beloved broth- 
 
1536.] ANNE BOLEYN, 263 
 
 er, and the three unfortunate gentlemen who had so courageous- 
 ly maintained her innocence through all the terrors and tempta- 
 tions with which they had been beset. If so, how bitter must 
 have been the anguish which rent her heart when the knell 
 of these devoted victims, swelling gloomily along the banks 
 of the Thames, reached her ear as she returned to her prison 
 after the unavailing sacrifice of her own and her daughter's 
 rights had been accomplished at Lambeth! That very morn- 
 ing her brother and the other gentlemen were led to execu- 
 tion, a scaftbld having been erected for that purpose on Tower 
 Hill. Mark Smeaton, being of ignoble birth, was hanged. He 
 said " Masters, I pray you all to pray for lue, for I have de- 
 served the death." This expression is considered ambiguous, 
 for either he meant that he had committed the crime for which 
 he was to die, or that he merited his punishment for having 
 borne false witness against his royal mistress. It was however 
 reported, even at the time, that Mark Smeaton's confession 
 was extorted by the rack, and that he was not confronted 
 with the queen lest he should retract it. Anne evidently ex- 
 pected that he would make the mnende on the scaffold, for 
 when she was informed of the particulars of the execution and 
 his last words, she indignantly exclaimed, " Plas he not, then, 
 cleai'ed me from the public shame he hath done me ? Alas ! 
 I fear his soul will suffer from the false witness he hath borne. 
 My brother and the rest are now, I doubt not, before the face 
 of the greater King, and I shall follow to-morrow." 
 
 The renewed agony of hope, which had been cruelly and 
 vainly excited in the bosom of the queen by the mockery of 
 declaring that her marriage with the sovereign was null and 
 void, appears soon to have passed away. She had drunk of 
 the last drop of bitterness that mingled malice and injustice 
 could infuse into her cup of misery, and when she received the 
 awful intimation that she must prepare herself for death, she 
 met the fiat like one who was weary of a troublesome pilgrim- 
 age, and anxious to be released from its sufferings. 
 
 Anne was earnest in preparing herself for death with many 
 and fervent devotional exercises, and whatever may have been 
 said in disparagement of her by Catholic historians, it is certain 
 that she did not die a Protestant. She passed many hours in 
 private conference with her confessor, and received the sacra- 
 ments accoi'ding to the doctrine of transubstantiation. The pen- 
 ance she imposed upon herself for her injurious treatment of 
 her royal step-daughter, the remembrance of which lay heavily 
 upon her mind when standing upon the awful verge of eterni- 
 ty, is most interestingly recorded by Speed, who quotes it from 
 
264 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1536. 
 
 the relation of a nobleman : " The day before she suffered death, 
 being attended by six ladies in the Tower, she took the Lady 
 Kingston into her presence-chamber, and there, locking the 
 door upon them, willed her to sit down in the chair of state. 
 Lady Kingston answered 'that it was her duty to stand, and 
 not to sit at all in her presence, much less upon the seat of state 
 of -her the queen.' — 'Ah ! madam,' replied Anne, 'that title is 
 gone. I am a condemned person, and by law haA^e no estate 
 left me in this life, but for clearing of my conscience. I pray 
 you sit dowm.' — ' Well,' said Lady Kingston, ' I have often play- 
 ed the fool in my youth, and, to fulfill your command, I will do 
 it once more in mine age;' and thei-eupon sat down under the 
 cloth of estate on the throne. Then the queen most humbly fell 
 on her knees before her, and, holding up her hands with tearful 
 eyes, charged her, 'as in the presence of God and his angels, 
 and as she would answer to her before them when all should 
 appear to judgment, that she w'ould so fall down before the 
 Lady Mary's grace, her daughter-in-law, and, in like manner, 
 ask her forgiveness for the wrongs she had done her ; for, till 
 that was accomplished,' she said, 'her conscience could not be 
 quiet.' " This fact is also recorded in Kingston's letters to 
 Cromwell, but not so circumstantially as in the account quoted 
 by Speed, from which we learn that Anne Boleyn continued 
 to occupy her own royal apartments in the Tower (with the pres- 
 ence-chamber and canopied chair of state), commonly called the 
 queen's lodgings, and that she had the free range of them even 
 after the warrant for her execution was signed, although tra- 
 dition points out more than one dismal tower of the royal for- 
 tress as the place of her imprisonment. 
 
 The queen was ordered for execution on the 19th of May, and 
 it was decreed by Henry that she should be beheaded on the 
 green within the Tower. It was a case without precedent in 
 the annals of England, for never before had female blood been 
 shed on the scaffold ; even in the Norman reigns of terror, 
 woman's life had been held sacred, and the m©st merciless of 
 the Plantagenet sovereigns had been too manly, under any 
 provocation or pretense, to butcher ladies. 
 
 On Friday, the 19th of May, the last sad morning of her life, 
 Anne rose two hours after midnight, and resumed her devo- 
 tions with her almoner. When she was about to receive the sac- 
 rament she sent for Sir William Kingston, that he might be a 
 witness of her last solemn protestation of her innocence of the 
 crimes for which she was sentenced to die before she became 
 ])artaker of the holy rite. It is difficult to imagine any person 
 wantonly provoking the wrath of God by incurring the crime 
 
1536.] ANNE BOLEYN. 265 
 
 of perjury at such a moment. She had evidently no hope of 
 prolonging her life, and appeared not only resigned to die, but 
 impatientof the unexpected delay of an hour or two before the 
 closing scene was to take place. This delay was caused by the 
 misgivings of Henry, for Kingston had advised Cromwell not 
 to fix the hour for the execution so that it could be exactly 
 known when it was to take place, lest it should draw an influx 
 of spectators from the city. 
 
 It does not appear that Anne condescended to implore the 
 mercy of the king. She knew his pitiless nature too well 
 even to make the attempt to touch his feelings after the hor- 
 rible imputations with which he had branded her, and this 
 lofty spirit looks like the pride of innocence, and the bitterness 
 of a deeply-wounded mind. While Kingston was writing his 
 last report to Cromwell of her preparations for the awful 
 change that awaited her, she sent for him, and said, " Mr. King- 
 ston, I hdar I shall not die afore noon, and I am very sorry 
 therefor, for I thought to be dead by this time, and past my 
 pain." — "I told her," says Kingston, "that the pain should be 
 little, it was so subtle." And then she said, " I have heard say 
 the executioner is very good, and I have a little neck," and 
 put her hands about it, laughing heartily, " I have seen men 
 and also women executed, and they have been in great sor- 
 row," continues the lieutenant of the Tower, "but, to my 
 knowledge, this lady hath much joy and pleasure in death. 
 Sir, her almoner is continually with her, and hath been since 
 two o'clock after midnight." Just before she went to execu- 
 tion, she sent this message to the king : " Commend me to his 
 majesty, and tell him he hath been ever constant in his career 
 of advancing me. From a private gentlewoman he made mc a 
 marchioness, from a marchioness a queen ; and now he hath 
 left no higher degree of honor, he gives my innocency the 
 crown of martyrdom." 
 
 The scaffold prepared for the decapitation of the unfortunate 
 queen was erected on the green before the Church of St. Peter- 
 ad -Vincula. The hour appointed by her ruthless consort for 
 her execution having been kept a profound mystery, only a 
 few privileged spectators were assembled to witness the dread- 
 ful, yet strangely exciting pageant. A few minutes before 
 twelve o'clock, the portals through which she was to pass for 
 the last time were thrown open, and the royal victim appear- 
 ed, led by the lieutenant of the Tower, who acted as her lord 
 chamberlain at this last fatal ceremonial. Anne was dressed in 
 a robe of black damask, with a deep white cape falling over it 
 on her neck. Instead of the pointed black velvet hood edged 
 
 M 
 
266 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1536. 
 
 with pearls, which is f:imiliai*to us in her portraits, she wore a 
 small hat with ornamented coifs under it. The high resolve 
 with which she had nerved herself to go through the awful 
 scene that awaited her as became a queen, had doubtless re- 
 called the lustre to her eyes, and flushed her faded cheek with 
 hues of feverish brightness, for she came forth in fearful beauty. 
 " Never," says an eye-witness of the tragedy, "had the queen 
 looked so beautiful before." She was attended by the four 
 maids of honor who had waited upon her in prison. Having 
 been assisted by Sir William Kingston to ascend the steps of 
 the scaffold, she there saw assembled the lord-mayor and some 
 of the civic dignitaries, and her great enemy the Duke of Suf- 
 folk, with Henry's natural son, the Duke of Richmond, who 
 had, in defiance of all decency and humanity, come hither to 
 disturb her last moments with their unfriendly esj)ionage. 
 
 There, also, was the ungrateful blacksmith-secretary of state 
 Cromwell ; who, though he had been chiefly indebted to the 
 patronage of Anne Boleyn for his present greatness, had 
 shown no disposition to succor her in her adversity. The fact 
 was, he meant to make alliance offensive an^ defensive with 
 the family of Henry's bride-elect, Jane Seymour. Anne ac- 
 corded him the mercy of her silence when she met him on the 
 scaffold. She came there, as she with true dignity observed, 
 " to die, and not to accuse her enemies." When she looked 
 round her, she turned to Kingston, and entreated him " not to 
 hasten the signal for her death till she had spoken that which 
 was on her mind to say ;" to which he consented, and she then 
 spoke — " Good Christian people, I am come hither to die ac- 
 cording to law, for by the law I am judged to die, and there- 
 fore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to 
 accuse no man, nor to speak any thing of that whereof I am 
 accused, as I know full well that aught that I could say in ray 
 defense doth not appertain unto you, and that I could draw no 
 hope of life from the same. But I come here only to die, and 
 thus to yield myself humbly unto the will of my lord the king. 
 I pray God to save the king, and send him long to reign over 
 you, for a gentler or more merciful prince was there never. 
 To me he was ever a good and gentle sovereign lord. If any 
 person Avill meddle with my cause, I require them to judge 
 the best. Thus I take my leave of the world and of you, 
 and I heai-tily desire you all to pray for me." She then with 
 her own hands removed her hat and collar, which might impede 
 the action of the sword, and taking tlie coifs from her head, 
 delivered them to one of her ladies. Then covering her hair 
 with a little linen cap (for it seems as if her ladies were, too 
 
1536.J ANNE BOLEYN. 267 
 
 much overpowered with grief and terror to assist her, and 
 that she was the only person who retained her composure), 
 she said, "Alas, poor head ! in a very brief space thou wilt roll 
 in the dust on the scaffold ; and as in life thou didst not merit 
 to wear the crown of a queen, so in death thou deserveth 
 no better doom than this." 
 
 All present were then in tears, save the base court syco- 
 phants who came to flatter the evil passions of the sovereign. 
 Anne took leave of her weeping ladies in these pathetic 
 words : " And ye, my damsels, who, while I lived, ever 
 showed yourselves so diligent in my service, and who are now 
 to be present at my last horn* and mortal agony, as in good 
 fortune ye were f lithful to me, so even at this my miserable 
 death ye do not forsake me. And as I can not reward you for 
 your true service to me, I pray you take comfort for my loss ; 
 howbeit, forget me not, and be always faithful to the king's 
 grace, and to her whom, with happier fortune, ye may have as 
 your queen and mistress. And esteem your honor far beyond 
 your life; and, in your prayers to the Lord Jesu, forget not to 
 pray for my soul." Among these true-hearted adherents of 
 the fallen queen was the companion of her childhood, Mrs. Mary 
 Wyatt,Sir Thomas Wyatt's sister, who, faithful through every 
 reverse, attended her on the scaffold. To this tried friend 
 Anne Boleyn gave, as a parting gift, her last possession — a lit- 
 tle book of devotions, bound in gold, and enameled black, 
 which she had held in her hand from the time she left her 
 apartment in the Tower till she commenced her preparations 
 for the block. Mary always wore this precious relic in her 
 bosom. Some mysterious last words, supposed to be a mes- 
 sage to Sir Thomas Wyatt, the queen was observed to whis- 
 per very earnestly to Mrs. Mnry Wyatt before she knelt down. 
 One of her ladies covered her eyes with a bandage ; and then 
 they withdrew themselves some little space, and knelt doAvn 
 over against the scaffold, bewailing bitterly and shedding 
 many tears. And thus, and without more to say or do, was 
 her head sti'uck oflf; she making no confession of her fault, but 
 saying, " O Lord God, have pity on ray soul !" She died 
 with great resolution. Her eyes and lips were observed to 
 move when her head was held up by the executioner. It is 
 also said that before those beautiful eyes sunk in the dimness 
 of death, they seemed for an instant mournfully to regard her 
 bleeding body as it fell on the scaffold. 
 
 It does not appear that the last moments of Anne were dis- 
 turbed by the presence of Lady Boleyn and Mrs. Cosyns. 
 The gentler females who, like ministering angels, had followed 
 
268 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1536. 
 
 their royal mistress to her doleful prison and dishonoring scaf- 
 fold, half fainting and drowned in tears as they were, surround- 
 ed her mangled remains, now a spectacle appalling to wom- 
 an's eyes; yet they would not abandon them to the ruffian 
 hands of the executioner and his assistants, but, with unavail- 
 ing tenderness, washed away the blood from the lovely face 
 and glossy hair, that scai-cely three years before had been 
 proudly decorated' with the crown of St. Edward, and now, 
 but for these unbought offices of faithful love, would have 
 been lying neglected in the dust. One weeping lady took the 
 severed head, the others the bleeding body of the unfortunate 
 queen, and having reverentially covered them with a sheet, 
 placed them in a chest which there stood ready, and carried 
 them to the church, which is within the Tower ; where they 
 deposited it. 
 
 There is, however, some reason to doubt whether the man- 
 gled I'emains of this hapless queen repose in the place general- 
 ly pointed out in St. Peter's Church within the Tower as the 
 spot where she was interred. It is true that her warm and 
 almost palpitating form was there conveyed in no better cof- 
 fin than an old elm-chest that had been used for keeping 
 arrows, and in less than half an hour after the executioner had 
 performed his office, thrust into a grave that had been pre- 
 pared for her by the side of her murdered brother. And 
 there she was interred, without other obsequies than the whis- 
 pered prayers and choking sobs of those true-hearted ladies 
 who had attended her on the scaffold, and were the sole 
 mourners who followed her to the grave. It is to be lament- 
 ed that history has only preserved one name out of this gentle 
 sisterhood, that of Mary Wyatt, when all were worthy to have 
 been inscribed in golden characters in every page sacred to 
 female tenderness and charity, 
 
 Anne Boleyn was in her thirty-sixth year at the time of her 
 execution. She had been maid of honor to four queens ; 
 namely, Mary and Claude, Queens of France, Margaret, Queen 
 of Navarre, and Katharine of Arragon, the first consort of 
 Henry VIII., whom, in an evil hour for both, she supplanted 
 in the affections of the king, and succeeded in her royal digni- 
 ty as Queen of England. She only survived the broken-heart- 
 ed Katharine four months and a few days. 
 
1536.1 
 
 JANE SEYMOUR. 
 
 2G9 
 
 Queen Jane Seymour. From a drawing by Holbein. 
 
 JANE SEYMOUE, 
 
 THIRD QUEEN CONSORT OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 Scripture points out with an especial odium the circumstance 
 of a handmaid taking the place of her mistress. Odious 
 enough was the case when Anne Boleyn supplanted the right 
 royal Katharine of Arragon, but a sensation of horror must 
 pervade every mind when the conduct of Jane Seymour is 
 considered. Her wedding preparations proceeded simulta- 
 neously Avith the heart-rending events of Anne Boleyn's last 
 agonized hours. The wedding-cakes must have been baking, 
 the wedding-dinner providing, the wedding-clothes preparing, 
 while the life-blood was vet running warm in the veins of the 
 
270 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [153G. 
 
 victim, whose place was to "be rendered vacant by a violent 
 death. Jane Seymour had arrived at an age when the timid- 
 ity of girlhood could no longer be j^leaded as excuse for pas- 
 sive acquiescence in such outrages on common decency. Jane 
 was the eldest of the eight children of Sir John Seymour, of 
 Wolf Hall, Wiltshire, and Margaret Wentworth, daughter of 
 Sir John Wentworth. Through the latter a descent from the 
 blood-royal of England was claimed. Jane's childhood and 
 early youth are involved in obscurity, but there is reason to 
 suppose that, like Anne Boleyn, her education was finished 
 and her manners formed in the court of France. It is proba- 
 ble that she entered the service of Mary Tudor, queen of 
 Louis XII. ; her brother certainly did. Sir John Seymour 
 subsequently made interest for his daughter to be placed as a 
 maid of honor to Anne Boleyn. 
 
 Henry VIII.'s growing passion for Jane soon awakened sus- 
 picion in the mind of Anne Boleyn ; it is said that her attention 
 was one day attracted by a jewel which Jane Seymour wore 
 about her neck, and she expressed a wish to look at it. Jane 
 faltered, and drew back, and the queen snatched it violently 
 from her, so violently that she hurt her own hand, and found 
 that it contained the portrait of the king, which had been pre- 
 sented by himself to her fair rival. Jane Seymour had far ad- 
 vanced in the same serpentine path which conducted Anne 
 herself to a throue, ere she ventured to accept the picture of 
 her enamored sovereign, and well assured must she have been 
 of success in her ambitious views before she presumed to 
 wear it in the pi-esence of the queen. Anne Boleyn was not 
 of a temper to bear her wrongs patiently, but Jane Seymour's 
 fortune was in the ascendant, hers in the decline : her anger 
 was unavailing. 
 
 While the last act of that diabolical drama was played out 
 which consummated the destruction of poor Anne, it appears 
 that her rival retreated to her paternal mansion. Wolf Hall, 
 in Wiltshire. There the preparations for her marriage with 
 Heni^^^III. were pi-oceeding with sufficient activity to allow 
 to take place the day after the executioner had 
 king a widower. On the morning of the 19th of 
 [enry VIIL, prepared for the chase, was standing 
 under a spreading oak, still to be seen in Richmond Park, 
 breathlessly awaiting the signal-gun from the Tower, announc- 
 ing that the sword had fallen on the neck of Anne Boleyn. 
 At last, the sullen sound of the death-gun boomed along the 
 windings of the Thames. Henry started with ferocious joy. 
 "Ha, ha!" he cried, with satisfaction, "the deed is done. Un- 
 
1536.] JANE SEYMOUK, 2 VI 
 
 couple the hounds and away !" At niglit-flxll the king was at 
 Wolf Hall, in Wilts, telling the news to his elected bride ; the 
 next moining he married her. 
 
 It is commonly asserted that the king wore white for monrn- 
 ing the day after Anne J^oleyn's execution ; he certainly wore 
 Avhite, not as mourning, but because he on that day wedded 
 her rival. Among others of the king's privy council present 
 at the marriage was his obsequious agent, Sir John Russell, 
 Avho, having been at church with the royal pair, gave as liis 
 opinion, "That the king was the goodliest person there, and 
 that the richer Queen Jane was dressed the fairer she appear- 
 ed ; on the contrary, the better Anne Boleyn was appareled 
 the worse she looked ; but that Queen Jane was the fairest of 
 all Henry's wives, though both Anne Boleyn, and Queen 
 Katharine, in her younger days, Avere women not easily paral- 
 leled." The king and his bride went to Winchester, Avhere 
 they sojourned a few days, and from thence returned to Lon- 
 don, in time to hold a great court on the 29th of May. Here 
 the bride was publicly introduced as queen, and her marriage 
 festivities were blended with the celebration of Whitsuntide. 
 
 The ci'own was entailed on the children of Queen Jane, 
 whether male or female ; at Avhich time Lord Chancellor Aud- 
 ley, expatiating on all the self-sacrifices Henry had endured for 
 the good of his people, concluded by proposing " that the lords 
 should pray for heirs to the crown by this marriage," and 
 sent the commons to choose a speaker. The speaker they 
 chose was the notorious Richard Rich, Avho had sworn away 
 the life of Sir Thomas More ; he outdid the Chancellor Audley 
 in his fulsome praises of the king, thinking proper to load his 
 speech with personal flattery, " comparing him, for strength 
 and fortitude to Sampson, for justice and prudence to Solo- 
 mon, and for beauty and comeliness to Absalom." Thus did 
 the English Parliament condescend to encourage Henry in his 
 vices, calling his self-indulgence self-denial, and all his evil 
 good ; inflating his wicked willfulness with eulogy, till he 
 actually forgot, according to Wolsey's solenm warning, " that 
 there was both heaven and hell." Queen Jane ostensibly me- 
 diated the reconciliation between tlie Princess Mary and the 
 king. Li the correspondence Avhich ensued between the fatlier 
 and daughter, about twenty days after the marriage of Jane 
 Seymour, she is frequently mentioned by the princess as " her 
 most natural mother the queen." She congratulates her on 
 her marriage with the king, praying God to send them a 
 pi-ince. From one of Mary's earlier letters, it is evident that 
 the princess had known Jane Seymour j^reviously to her mar- 
 
272 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1537. 
 
 riage, and had been treated kindly by her. The Catholic his- 
 torians have mentioned Queen Jane with complacency, on ac- 
 count of her friendliness to Henry's ill-treated daughter; the 
 Protestants regard her with veneration as the mother of Ed- 
 ward YI. and the sister of Somerset; and thus, with little per- 
 sonal merit, accident has made her the subject of unlimited par- 
 ty praise. The Princess Mary Avas permitted to visit her step- 
 mother at the palaces of Richmond and Greenwich, Christ- 
 mas, 1537. That season was saddened to Queen Jane by the 
 loss of her father, Sir John Seymour. He left his family at 
 the very pinnacle of exaltation — his eldest daughter the tri- 
 uniphant Queen of England, his eldest son created Lord Beau- 
 champ, and lord chamberlain for life. 
 
 Henry's third queen sirpported her dignity with silent pla- 
 cidity. Whether from instinctive prudence or natural tacitui'n- 
 ity, she certainly exemplified the wise proverb, "' that the least 
 said is the soonest mended ;" for she passed eighteen months 
 of regal life without uttering a sentence significant enough lo 
 bear preservation. The terror of the axe seems to have kept 
 even this favored queen in the most humiliating state of sub- 
 mission during the term of her sceptred slavery. In all things 
 presenting a contrast to her predecessor, Jane Seymour took 
 for her motto bound to obey and serve. 
 
 Jane Seymour, like many other persons suddenly raised in 
 the world, enforced very rigorous rules regarding the etiquette 
 of dress at her court. The maids of honor were expected to 
 wear very costly girdles of pearls, and if not very fully set, they 
 were not to appear in her royal presence. The number of 
 pearls required Avas more than one hundred and twenty, since 
 Lady Lisle sent that number to Anne Basset, one of her daugh- 
 ters, Avho Avas maid of honor to the ncAV queen. But the girdle 
 Avas not suflRciently rich, therefore the young lady could not 
 exhibit it before the queen. 
 
 As the king's tAvo former Avives (though afterward repudia- 
 ted and discrowned) had received the honors of splendid corona- 
 tions, he Avas of course desirous of thus distinguishing the be- 
 loved Jane Seymour ; but her coronation Avas delayed by pes- 
 tilence, and still farther procrastinated by promise of the long- 
 desired heir to the throne. To obviate the chance of his pres- 
 ent consort taking any fancies in her head, Pleury graciously 
 announced his intention of remaining near her at Hampton 
 Court, Avhere she took to her chamber September 16, 1537, 
 Avith all the ceremonies appertaining to the retirement of an 
 English queen in her situation. An insalubrious state etiquette 
 after Jane had taken to her chamber (according to the queenly 
 
1537. _^ JANE SEYMOUR. 273 
 
 custom), obliged hei" to confiue herself therein a whole month, 
 and during this long space of time the royal patient was de- 
 prived of the needful benefits of air and exercise ; but, after 
 all, it is expressly declared, by a circular notification, " that the 
 queen was happily delivered of a prince on Friday, October 12, 
 being the vigil of St. Edward's Day, and had she been kept in 
 a state of rational quiet, it is probable she might have recover- 
 ed. But the intoxication of joy into which the king and the 
 court were plunged at the appearance of the long-desired heir 
 of England, seemed to deprive them of all consideration of con- 
 sequences, or they would have 'kept the bustle attendant on the 
 ceremonial of his christening far enough from her. It took 
 place on the Monday night after the birth of the prince. The 
 procession commenced in Jane's' very chamber, where i-egal 
 etiquette imperiously demanded that she should play her part 
 in the scene ; nor was it likely that a private gentlewoman 
 raised to the queenly state would seek to excuse herself from 
 any thing pertaining to her dignity, however inconvenient. 
 It was the rule for a Queen of England, when her infant was 
 christened, to be removed from her bed to a state conch. The 
 baptism of the prince took place by torch-light, in the chapel 
 of Hampton Court, where the future defender of the reformed 
 religion was pi-esented at the font by his sister and Catholic 
 successor, the Princess Mary. There, too, unconscious of the 
 awful event that had changed her fortunes in the dawn of her 
 existence, after she had been proclaimed heiress of the realm, 
 came the young motherless Elizabeth, who had been roused 
 from her sweet slumbers of infant innocence, and arrayed in 
 robes of state, to perform the part assigned to her in the cere- 
 mony. In this procession Elizabeth, borne in the arms of the 
 aspiring Seymour (brother to the queen), with playful smiles 
 carried a cap called a chrysom for the son of her for whose 
 sake her mother's blood had been shed on the scaflTold, and 
 herself branded with the reproach of illegitimacy. And there 
 the Earl of Wiltshire, the father of the murdered Anne Boleyn, 
 and grandfather of the disinherited Elizabeth, made himself 
 an object of contemptuous pity to every eye by assisting at 
 this rite, bearing a taper of virgin wax, with the towel about 
 his neck. How strangely associated seem the other person- 
 ages who met in this historical scene! how passing strange, in 
 the eyes of those before whom the scroll of their after life has 
 been unrolled, it is to contemplate the Princess Mary joining 
 Cranmer (afterward sent to tlie stake in her reign), who was 
 associated with his enemy the Duke of Norfolk, all as sponsors 
 in this baptismal rite ! The font of solid silver was guarded by 
 
 M* 
 
274 QUEENS OE ENGLAND. [1537. 
 
 Sir John Russell, Sir Nicholas Carew, Sir Francis Bryan, and 
 Sir Anthony Browne, in aprons, and with towels about their 
 necks. The Marchioness of Exeter carried the child under a 
 canopy. The prince's wet-nurse (whom he afterward called 
 " Mother Jack," from her name of Jackson) walked near to her 
 charge. After the prince was baptized, his style was proclaim- 
 ed by Garter : " God, in his Almighty and infinite grace, grant 
 good life and long to the right high, right excellent, and noble 
 Prince Edward, Duke of Cornwall and Earl of Chester, most 
 dear and entirely-beloved son of our most dread and gracious 
 lord. Henry VIII." The Lady Mary gave her godson a cup of 
 gold ; Cranmer gave him three great silver bowls and two 
 great pots, which Avere borne by the father of Anne Boleyn. 
 The Duke of Norfolk presented a similar offering. In the re- 
 turning procession, the Princess Elizabeth was led away by 
 the Princess Mary, her sister. The train of the infant princess 
 — for, though but four years old, she had a train — was carried 
 by the Lady Herbert, sister of the future queen, Kathai'ine 
 Parr. The heir of England was borne back in solemn state, 
 with trumpets sounding before liim, to his mother's chamber, 
 there to receive'her blessing. King Henry had remained seat- 
 ed by the queen's couch during the whole of the baptismal rite, 
 which, with all its tedious parade, took up two or three hours, 
 not being over till midnight. What with the presence of 
 King Henry — rather a boisterous inmate for a sick chamber, 
 what with the procession setting out from the chamber, 
 and the braying of the trumpets at its entrance when it re- 
 turned (the herald especially notes the goodly noise they made 
 there), and, in conclusion, the exciting ceremonial of bestowing 
 her maternal benediction on her newly-baptized babe, the poor 
 queen had been kept in a complete hurry of spirits for many 
 hours. The natural consequence of such imprudence was, that 
 on the day after, she was indisposed, and on the Wednesday 
 received all the rites of the Roman Catholic Church for the 
 dying. Nevertheless she amended, and was certainly bet- 
 ter ; but she did not live over the night of October 24. 
 
 The king left Hampton Court directly for Windsor, part of 
 his council remaining to order the funeral. In a dispatch 
 from the council to the ambassador of France, the death of 
 the queen is clearly attributed to having been suffered to take 
 cold and eat improper food. 
 
 The day after her death she was embalmed ; the next day, 
 in the chamber of presence, a hearse with twenty-four tapers 
 was set up. This done, the corpse was reverently conveyed 
 from the place where she died, placed under the hearse, and 
 
1537. J JANE SEYMOUR. 275 
 
 covered Avith a rich pall of cloth of gold ; lights were burning 
 night and day, with six torches and wax lights upon the altar, 
 divine service being performed. All ladies were in mourn- 
 ing habits, with white kerchiefs over their heads and shoul- 
 ders, kneeling about the liearse. A watch of these ladies, 
 with the Princess Mary at their head as chief mourner, was 
 kept nightly in the queen's chamber round the royal corpse 
 to the last day of October, when the Bishop of Carlisle, her 
 almoner, assisted by the. sub-dean and the Bishop of Chi- 
 chester, performed all ceremonies, and attended the removal 
 of the coffin, with great state and solemnity, to Hampton 
 Court chapel, till November 12, when the queen's funeral pro- 
 cession set out from Hampton to Windsor, for interment in 
 St. George's Chapel, which was* done with all the pomp and 
 majesty possible. The Princess Mary paid all the duty of 
 a daughter to her friendly step-mother, by attending as chief 
 mourner. In every instance the rites of the ancient church 
 were performed. Queen Jane was interred in the midst of 
 the choir at St. George's Chapel ; an epitaph was composed 
 for her, comparing her, in death, to the phoenix, from whose 
 death another phoenix, Edward VI., s])rang. 
 
 Two queens of Henry had been previously consigned to their 
 last repose, but not with royal pomp. Katharine of Arragon 
 was buried as his brother's widow, and not as his wife. As 
 to Anne Boleyn, her poor mangled corpse was not vouched, 
 as far as her unloving spouse was aware, the religious rites be- 
 stowed on the remains of tlie most wretched mendicant who 
 expires on the highway of our Christian land. Jane Seymour 
 was the first spouse, out of three, whom he owned at her death 
 as his wedded wife. His respect for the memory of his lost 
 queen can be best appreciated by the circumstance of his 
 Avearing black for her loss, even at the Christmas festival, 
 when the whole court likewise appeared in deep mourning. 
 As this woi'ldly-minded king detested the sight of black, or 
 any thing that reminded him of death, so entirely that he was 
 ready to violently assaidt persons who came to court in 
 mourning for their friends, the extent of his self-sacrifice may 
 be imagined, for he did not change his widower's habiliments 
 till Candlemas. The infant prince, Avhose birth cost Jane her 
 life, was nursed at Havering Bower. He inherited his mother's 
 beauty, ber starry eyes, and regular features. Margaret, Lady 
 Bryan, who had faithfully superintended the childhood of Hen- 
 ry's two daughters, had now the care of their brother, Jane 
 Seymour's motherless babe. Her descriptions of his infancy 
 at Havering are pretty. She says, " that my lord prince's 
 
276 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1540. 
 
 grace is in good health and meiTy ; and his grace hath tliree 
 teeth out, and the fourth appearing." She complains, however, 
 " that the princely baby's best coat was only tinsel, and that 
 he hath never a good jewel to set on his cap ; howbeit, she 
 would order all things for his honor as well as she could, so 
 that the king (Henry VIII.) should be contented withal." 
 The lord chancellor visited him at Havering ; he assured 
 
 Edward VI. From a drawing by Holbein. 
 
 Cromwell that he never saw so goodly a child of his age, " so 
 merry, so pleasant, so good and loving of countenance, and so 
 earnest an eye, which made sage judgment of every one that 
 approached him. And albeit, his grace waxeth firm and stifi", 
 and can steadfastly stand, and would advance himself to go if 
 they would suifer him ; but, as me-seemeth, they yet do best, 
 considering his grace is yet but tender, that he should not 
 
1553.] JANE SEYMOUR. 2II 
 
 strain liimself as liis own courage would serve hira,tillhe come 
 to bo above a year of age." Again, from Hunsdon, Lady 
 Bryan wishes Henry VIII, had seen " my lord prince's grace, 
 who was pleasantly disposed ; the minstrels played, and his 
 grace danced and played so wantonly that he could not stand 
 still." 
 
 The day the little motherless prince completed his ninth 
 year, he took his first lesson in French with great spirit. He 
 progressed so favorably in all his studies that he was consider- 
 ed an infant prodigy. He succeeded to the throne, January 28, 
 1547, on liis royal father's death, and was proclaimed king by 
 the title of Edward VI. He continued to pursue his studies 
 diligently, under the carefid tuition of Dr. Cox, taking great 
 pleasure in learning. He wrote a very curious journal of his 
 life, which, unfortunately, was very short, for he departed this 
 life on the 6th of July, 1558, aged fifteen years, eiglit months, 
 and eight days. 
 
278 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Queen Anne of Cleves. From a paiuting Ijy Holbein. 
 
 ANNE OF CLEYES, 
 
 FOURTH QUEEN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 Henry VIII. liad, as we have seen, disposed of three queens 
 before he sought the hand of Anne of Cleves ; and, though 
 historians liave said much of his devotion to the memory of 
 Jane Seymour, she had not been dead a month ere he made a 
 bold attempt to provide himself with another Avife. Francis 
 I., when Henry requested to be permitted to chose a lady of 
 the royal blood of France for his queen, replied, " that there 
 was not a damsel of any degree in his dominions who should 
 not be at his disposal." Henry took this compliment so liter- 
 ally, that he required the French monarch to bring the fairest 
 ladies of his court to Calais, for him to take his choice. " It 
 
1539.] ANNE OF CLEVES. 279 
 
 is impossible," replied Francis, " to bring ladies of noble 
 blood to market, as horses were trotted out at a fair." 
 
 Reasons of a political nature, combined with his earnest 
 wish of obtaining a fair and gentle helpmate for his old age, 
 induced Henry to lend an ear to Cromwell's flattering com- 
 mendation of the princesses of the house of Cleves. Anne 
 was the second daughter of John III., Duke of Cleves, by his 
 consort Marie, the heiress of William, Duke of Juliers. She 
 was born the 22d of September, 1516, and was brought up a 
 Lutheran, her father having established the reformed faith in 
 his dominions. 
 
 Anne's eldest sister, Sybilla, was married to John Frederick, 
 Duke of Saxony, who became the head of the Protestant con- 
 federation in Germany, known in history by the term of " the 
 Smalcaldic League." He was the champion of the Reforma- 
 tion, and for his invincible adherence to liis principles, and his 
 courage in adversity, was surnaraed " the lion-hearted Elect- 
 or." Sybilla was famed for her talents, virtues, and conjugal 
 tenderness, as well as for her winning manners and great 
 beauty. It was mentioned, as a peculiar recommendation for 
 Anne and her younger sister, the Lady Amelie, that they had 
 both been educated by the same prudent and sensible mother 
 Avho had formed the mind of Sybilla, and it was supposed their 
 acquirements were of a solid kind, since accomplishments they 
 had none, with the exception of skill in needlework. Henry 
 commissioned Hans Holbein to paint the portraits of both 
 Anne and Amelie for his consideration ; but though he de- 
 termined to take his choice, Cromwell's agents at the courts of 
 Cleves and Saxony had predisposed him in favor of Anne, by 
 the reports they had written of her charms and amiable qual- 
 ities. 
 
 The death of the Duke of Cloves, Anne's father, wdiich oc- 
 curred February 6, 1539, occasioned a temporary delay in the 
 early stage of the proceedings ; but her mother, as Avell as her 
 brother, Duke William (who succeeded to the duchy), were 
 eager to secure so powerful an ally to the Protestant cause as 
 the King of England, and to see Anne elevated to the rank of 
 a queen. Dr. Barnes was the most active agent employed by 
 Cromwell in the negotiations for the matrimonial treaty, and 
 was never forgiven by Henry for the pains he took in conclud- 
 ing the alliance. Henry's commissioner for the marriage, 
 Nicholas Wotton, gives his sovereign the following particu- 
 lars of Anne of Cleves : 
 
 "As for the education of my said ladye, she hath from her 
 childhood been, like as the Ladye Sybille was till she was mar- 
 
280 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1539. 
 
 ried, bronglit up with the lady duchess her mother, and in 
 manner never from her elbow — the lady duchess being a very 
 Avise lady, and one that very strictly looketh to her children. 
 All I have asked report her to be of very gentle conditions, by 
 which she hath so much won her mother's favor, that she is 
 very loath to suffer her to depart from her. She occupieth 
 her time much with the needle. She can read and write her 
 own [language], but French and Latin, or otiier language she 
 knoweth not, nor yet can sing or play on any instrument ; for 
 they take it here in Germany for a rebuke and lightness, that 
 great ladies should have any knowledge of musick. Her wit 
 is so good, that no doubt she will in a short space learn the 
 English tongue, whenever she putteth her mind to it. I could 
 never hear that she is inclined to the good cheer of this coun- 
 try ; and marvel it were if she should, seeing that her brother, 
 in whom it were somewhat more tolerable, doth so well abstain 
 from it. Your grace's servant, Hans Holbein, hath taken the 
 effigies of my Lady e Anne and the Ladye Amelye her sister, and 
 liatli expressed their images very lively." 
 
 The miniature executed by Holbein Avas exquisite as a work 
 of art, and the box iu which it came over "worthy the jewel 
 it contained :" it was in the form of a white I'ose, delicately 
 carved in ivory, which unscrewed, and showed tlie miniature 
 at the bottom. It is engraved from a drawing from this curi- 
 ous original. The features are regular, although the costume, 
 a stiff German imitation of the prevalent mode, is unbecoming. 
 The five-cornered hood of Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour has 
 been modified into a heavy coif of white lawn or lace. The 
 shoulders are deformed by hard triangular epaulettes, the 
 Avaist is short, and the elbows loaded with drapery without 
 form or taste. Tiie face of the young lady, however, appeared 
 sufficiently lovely to decide Henry on accepting hei", and the 
 negotiation was completed at Windsor early in the same 
 month in which arrived Holbein's flattering portrait. The 
 contract of marriage was signed at Dusseldorf, September the 
 4th, 1539. All matters of state policy and royal ceremonials 
 being arranged, the bride-elect bade a long, and, as it proved, 
 a last farewell to her mother, her brother and sisters, by all of 
 whom she was tenderly beloved. She quitted her native city 
 of Dusseldorf the first week in October, 1539, and, attended 
 by a splendid train and escort, left the pleasant banks of the 
 Rhine for the stranger-land of which she was now styled the 
 queen. 
 
 At Antwerp many English merchants met her grace four 
 miles without the town, clad in velvet coats and chains of 
 
Jo40.] ANNE OF CLEVES. 281 
 
 goUl. The next flay the Englisli merchants bronglit her on 
 her way to Sletkyn, and gave her a gift. She then proceeded, 
 at the same rate of twenty miles a day, through Tokyn, Bru- 
 ges, Oldenburgh, Nieuport, and Dunkirk, to Gravelines, where 
 the captain received her honorably. The next day she arrived 
 in the English pale at Calais between seven and eight o'clock 
 in the morning, so that she and her ladies must have quitted 
 their pillows and commenced their journey long before it was 
 light. 
 
 The lord admiral with a low obeisance welcomed the royal 
 bride, and brought her into Calais by the lantern-gate, where 
 the ships lay in the haven garnished with their banners, pen- 
 sils,.and flags, pleasant to behold; and at her entry was shot 
 such a peal of guns, that all her retinue were astonished. The 
 town of Calais echoed the royal salute with a peal of ordance 
 along the coast. " When she entered the lantern-gate, she 
 stayed to view the king's ships called the Lyon and the Sweep- 
 stakes, which were decked with one hundred banners of silk 
 and gold." 
 
 The new queen was detained by the perversity of winds and 
 waves so long, that she kept her Christmas festival perforce 
 at Calais. At last she embarked with her train, and, attended 
 by a royal convoy of fifty ships, sailed with a prosperous wind, 
 December 27, and had so quick a passage, that she landed at 
 Deal the same day at five o'clock. She was honorably re- 
 ceived by Sir Thomas Cheyney, lord warden of the port, and 
 proceeded immediately to a castle newly built, supposed to be 
 Walmer Castle, where she changed her dress, and remained 
 till the Duke and Duchess of Suftblk and the Bishop of Chi- 
 chester, with a great company of knights, esquires, and the 
 flower of the ladies of Kent, came to welcome her to England ; 
 by them she was conducted to Dover Castle, and there she 
 rested till the Monday, which was a wintry and inclement 
 day. But notwithstanding the storm that raged abroad, she 
 obeyed the instructions that had been issued for the manner 
 and order of her journey, and commenced her progress to Can- 
 terbury. On Barhani clowns she was met by the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury and a great company of gentlemen, who attend- 
 ed her to St. Augustine's Avithout Canterbury. On New Year's 
 Eve she was conducted to Rochester, where she remained in 
 the bishop's palace all New Year's Day. 
 
 Henry, who was impatient to see her, rode to Roches- 
 ter incognito on the morrow, with eight gentlemen of his 
 privy-chamber, all dressed alike in coats of marble color (some 
 sort of grey), expecting, no doubt, that his highly praised Ger- 
 
282 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1540. 
 
 man bride would rival both the bright-eyed Boleyn and the 
 fair Seymour. On his arrival, he dispatched Sh- Anthony 
 Browne, his master of the horse, to inform Anne that "he had 
 brought her a New Year's gift, if she would please to receive it." 
 The knight afterward declared, " that he was struck with con- 
 sternation when he was shown the queen, and was never so 
 much dismayed in his life as to see a lady so far iinlike what had 
 been represented." He had, however, the discretion to conceal 
 his impression, well knowing how greatly opinions vary as to 
 beauty, and left the king to judge for himself. When Henry, 
 whose impatience could no longer be restrained, entered the 
 presence of his betrothed, a glance sufficed to destroy the en- 
 chantment which Holbein's pencil had created : the goods 
 were not equal to pattern, and he considered himself an injured 
 raan. He recoiled in bitter disappointment. It is jjossible 
 that Anne was not a whit more charmed with Henry's ap- 
 pearance and deportment than he with hers, especially as he 
 Avas not in the most gracious of moods. But, although some- 
 what taken by surprise at the abrupt entrance of the formidable 
 spouse to whom she had been consigned by the will of her 
 country, she sank upon her knees at his approach, and did her 
 best to offer him a loving greeting. Evilly as Hemy Avas dis- 
 posed toward the luckless princess, he was touched with the 
 meekness and deep humility of her behavior. He did violence 
 to his feelings so far as to raise her up Avith some show of ci- 
 vility. The interview only lasted a few minutes, but scarcely 
 twenty Avords Avere exchanged. Anne's mother-tongue, the 
 German of the Rhine, familiarly called " high Dutch," Avas so 
 displeasing to Henry's musical ears, that he Avould not make 
 any attempts to converse Avith her by means of an interpret- 
 er ; yet he Avas previously aAvare that " his wife could speak no 
 English, he no Dutch." The moment he quitted herpresence, 
 he sent for the lords Avho had brought her over, and indignantly 
 addressed the following queries to the lord admiral : "How like 
 you this Avoman ? Do you think her so personable, fair, and 
 beautiful as report hath been made unto me ? I pray you tell 
 me true." The admiral evasively rejoined, "I take her not for 
 /air, hnt to be of a broicn complexion." — "Alas!" said the 
 king, " whom shall men trust ? I promise you I see no such 
 thing as hath been shown me of her pictures or report. I am 
 ashamed that men have praised her as they have done, and I 
 love her not." The New Year's gift Avhich he had provided for 
 Anne, AA^as a partlet of sable skins to Avear about her neck, and 
 a muffy furred ; that is to say, a muff and tippet of rich sables. 
 This he had intended to present Avith his OAvn hand to her; 
 
1540.] ANNE OF CLEVES. 283 
 
 but not considering her handsome enough to be entitled to 
 &uch an honor, he sent it to her the following morning by Sir 
 Anthony Browne, with as cold a message as might be. He 
 made bitter complaints of his hard fate to Lord Russell, Sir 
 Anthony Browne and Sir Anthony Denny. The latter gentle- 
 man told his sovereign " that persons of humble station had this 
 great advantage over princes ; that they might go and choose 
 their own wives, while great princes must take such as were 
 brought them." 
 
 Henry returned to Greenwich veiy melancholy, and when 
 he saw Cromwell, gave vent to a torrent of vituperation against 
 those Avho had provided him with so unsuitable a consort, 
 whom, with his characteristic brutality, he likened to a " great 
 Flanders mare." Cromwell endeavored to shift the blame 
 from himself to the lord admiral, for whom he had no great 
 kindness, by saying, " that when that nobleman found the 
 princess so diiferent from the pictures and reports which had 
 been made of her, he ought to have detained her at Calais till 
 lie had given the king notice that she was not so handsome as 
 had been represented." The admiral replied, bluntly, " that 
 he was not invested with any such authority : his commission 
 was to bring her to England, and he had obeyed his orders." 
 Cromwell retorted upon him, " that he had spoken in his let- 
 ters of the lady's beauty in terms of commendation, which 
 had misled his highness and his council." The admiral, how- 
 ever, represented, " that as the princess was generally report- 
 ed for a beauty, he had only repeated the opinions of others ; 
 for which no one ought reasonably to blame him." This al- 
 tercation was interrupted by the peremptory demand of the 
 king, " that some means should be found for preventing the 
 necessity of his completing his engagement." A council was 
 summoned in all haste, at which the jDre-contract of the lady 
 with Francis of Lorraine was objected by Henry's ministers 
 as a legal impediment to her union with the king. 
 
 Anne, who had advanced as far as Dartford (with a heavy 
 heart no doubt), was delayed in her progress, while her broth- 
 er's ambassadors, by whom she had been attended to England, 
 were summoned to produce documentary evidence that the 
 contract M^as dissolved. They declared that the engagement 
 between the Lady Anne of Cleves and the Marquess of Lorraine 
 had been merely a conditional agreement between the pai'ents 
 of the parties when both in their minority ; and that in the 
 year 1535 it had been formally annulled. Cranmer and the 
 Bishop of Durham were of opinion that no just impediment to 
 the marriage existed. Cromwell also represented to the king 
 
284 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1540. 
 
 the impolicy of embroiling himself with the Protestant princes 
 of Germany, in such forcible terms, that Henry passionately 
 exclaimed, " Is there, tlien, no remedy but that I must needs 
 put my neck into tlie yoke ?" Having in these gracious words 
 signified his intention of proceeding to the solemnization of 
 his nuptials, he ordered the most sj^lendid preparations to be 
 made for his marriage. 
 
 The public reception of Anne of Cleves by Henry took place 
 on the 3d of January, on Blackheath, where was pitclied a 
 rich tent of cloth of gold, and divers other tents and pavilions, 
 in which were made fires, with perfumes for her and her ladies. 
 From the tents to the park gate at Greenwich all the furze 
 and bushes were cut down, and an ample space cleared for the 
 view of all spectators. She came down from Shooter's hill 
 toward the tents; and was met by the Earl of Rutland, her 
 lord chamberlain, and her other oflicers of state. Then Dr. 
 Kaye, her almoner, presented to her, on the king's behalf, all 
 the officers and servants of her household, and addressed her 
 in an eloquent Latin oration, of which the unlearned princess 
 understood not a word ; but it was answered with all due 
 solenmity in her name by her brother's secretary, who acted 
 as her interpreter. " Then the king's nieces, the Lady Margaret 
 Douglas, daughter to the Queen of Scots, and the Marchioness 
 of Dorset, daughter to the Queen of Fi-ance, with the Duchess 
 of Richmond, and other ladies, to the mmiber of sixty-five, sa- 
 luted and welcomed her grace. Anne alighted from the chariot 
 in which she had performed her long journey, and with most 
 goodly manner and loving countenance returned thanks, and 
 kissed them all ; her officers and councilors kissed her hand, 
 after which she, with all the ladies, entered the tents and 
 warmed themselves. 
 
 The circumstance of Anne being marked with the small-pox 
 explains the mystery of why Holbein's portrait pleased the 
 king so much better than the original. No artist copies the 
 cruel traces of that malady in a lady's face ; therefore the pic- 
 ture was flattered, even if the features were faithfully deline- 
 ated. 
 
 When Anne was advertised of the king's coming, she issued 
 out of her tent, being appareled in a rich gown of cloth of gold, 
 made round, without any train, after the Dutch fashion ; and 
 on her head a canl, and over that a round bonnet or cap, set 
 full of orient pearl. At the door of the tent she mounted 
 on a fair horse, richly trapped with goldsmith's work ; and, 
 surrounded by her Flemish attendants, who were on foot, she 
 marched toward the king, who, perceiving her approach, came 
 
1540.] ANNE OF CLEVES. 285 
 
 forward somewhat beyond the cross on the heatli, and there 
 paused a httle till she came nearer. Then he put oft' his bon- 
 net, and came forward to lier, and with most loving counte- 
 nance and princely behavior salute;], welcomed, and embraced 
 her ; and she likewise, not forgetting her duty, with most 
 amiable aspect and womanly behavior, received his grace with 
 many sweet words and great praises. 
 
 When the king had conversed a little with her, which must 
 have been by means of an interpreter, he put her on his right 
 hand, and they rode side by side together to Greenwich Palace. 
 As they passed, they beheld from the wharf how the citizens 
 of London were rowing up and down on the Thames, every 
 craft in its barge garnished with banners, flags, streamers, 
 pensils, and targets, some painted and blazoned with the kmg's 
 arms, some with tiiose of her grace, and some with the arms 
 of their craft or mystery. 
 
 A splendid scene it must have been, that gorgeous caval- 
 cade, extending from Blackheath, through the park, to the wa- 
 ter's edge, and the broad-bosomed Thames so gayly dight with 
 the flags and gilded barges of the queen of merchant cities, 
 and all the aquatic pageantry which wealth and loyalty could 
 devise to do honor to the sovereign's bride. As soon as she 
 and the king liad alighted from their horses in the inner court, 
 the king lovingly embraced her, and bade her " welcome to 
 her own ;" then led her by the left arm through, and so 
 brought her up to her privy-chamber, which was I'ichly pre- 
 pared for her reception. There Henry, eager to be released 
 from the irksome part of playing the loving bi-idegroom and 
 gracious sovereign, left her, and retired to give vent to his 
 discontent in his own. He was attended by his anxious pre- 
 mier Cromwell, to whom he exclaimed, " How say you, my 
 lord ; is it not as I told you ? Say what they will, she is noth- 
 ing fair. Her person is well and seemly, but notliing else." 
 The obsequious minister assented to the royal opinion — nay, 
 sware " by his faith, that his sovereign said right ;" yet ven- 
 tured to observe, by way of commendation, "that he thought 
 she had a queenly manner witlial." This Henry frankly al- 
 lowed. Cromwell lamented "that his grace was no better 
 content," as well indeed he might, since his own ruin was de- 
 ci'eed from that hour. 
 
 When the lord chamberlain inquired of the king, " What 
 day his majesty would be pleased to name for tlie coronation 
 of the queen ?" — " We will talk of that when I have made 
 her my queen," was the ominous reply of the moody monarch. 
 Next day Henry sent for all his council, and repeated his 
 
286 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 1540. 
 
 favorite expression, " that he was not well handled about the 
 contract with the Prince of Lorraine," and required that Anne 
 should make a solemn protestation that she was free from all 
 pre-contracts. This she did in the presence of all his council 
 and notaries. When Henry was informed by Cromwell that 
 the lady had made the above protest in the most clear and 
 positive terms, he repeated his first ungracious exclamation, 
 " Is there, then, none other remedy, but I must needs against 
 my will put my neck mto the yoke !" Cromwell escaped from 
 the royal presence as quickly as he could, leaving his master 
 in what he politely terms " a study or pensiveness ;" in other 
 words, an access of sullen ill humor, in which he remained till 
 the Monday morning, when he declared " that it was his in- 
 tention to go through with it," and directed that the nuptials 
 should be solemnized on the following day, January 6th, com- 
 monly called Twelfth Day. However reluctant the royal 
 bridegroom was to fulfill his distasteful matrimonial engage- 
 ment, he made his personal arrangements that morning with 
 much greater speed than the bride, and had donned his wed- 
 ding garments so long before she was ready, that he thought 
 proper to exercise bis conjugal privilege beforehand by grum- 
 bling at having to wait. Plis bridal costume was a gown of 
 cloth of gold, raised with great flowers of silver, and furred 
 with black jennettes. His coat, crimson satin, slashed and em- 
 broidered, and clasped Avith great diamonds, and a rich collar 
 about his neck. In this array he entered his presence-cham- 
 ber, and calling Cromwell to him, said, "My lord, if it were 
 not to satisfy the world and my realm, I would not do what I 
 must do this day for any earthly thing." Then one of the 
 ofliccrs of the household informed him the queen was ready. 
 On which he, with his lords and officers of state, advanced 
 into the gallery next the closets, and there paused, and, with 
 some expressions of displeasure that she was so long in coming, 
 sent the lords to fetch the queen. The tardy bride had 
 endeavored, it should seem, to console herself for Henry's in- 
 sulting demurs by taking her own time, and making a very 
 elaborate and splendid toilet. She was dressed in a gown 
 of rich cloth of gold, embroiderd very thickly wuth great 
 flowers of large oriental pearls. It was made round and with- 
 out a train, which, it appears, was not admired in England. 
 She wore her long luxuriant yelloio hair flowing down her 
 shoulders, and on her head a coronal of gold full of costly 
 gems and set about with sprigs of rosemary. About her 
 neck and waist she wore jewels of great price. Thus arrayed, 
 Anne of Cleves came forth from her closet between the Earl 
 
1540.] ANNE OF CLEVES. 287 
 
 of Overstcin and the Eavl of Essex, Avith a composed counte- 
 nance and grave demeanor. The lords went before her in 
 procession, and when they readied the gallery where the king 
 was, she greeted him with three low obeisances and courtesies. 
 Then the Archbishop of Canterbury, Cranmer, received theni 
 and married them together. The Earl of Overstein gave Anne 
 away : round her wedding-ring was inscribed — 
 
 (&oii Scnb ilXe iJDcel to keep. 
 
 A more appropriate motto could scarcely have been chosen 
 for a Avife of Henry VIII. No doubt the poor queen had 
 that prayer very often on her lips. When the nuptial rites 
 were ended, the royal pair walked hand in hand into the 
 king's closet, and there heard mass. After mass Avas over 
 they took Avine and spices ; then the king departed to his 
 chamber, and all the ladies attended the queen to her cham- 
 ber. 
 
 Henry's countenance bore a more portentous aspect on the 
 morrow, and Avhen his trembling premier CroraAvell entered 
 his presence to pay his duty, he received him Avith a frown, 
 and angrily reproached him for having persuaded him to a 
 marriage so repugnant to his taste. Solemn jousts were 
 nevertheless kept in honor of the royal nuptials on the Sun- 
 day, Avhich much pleased the foreigners. On that day the 
 queen Avas appareled after the English fashion, with a French 
 hood. The only allusion Henry Avas ever knoAvn to make to 
 his beautiful and once idolized queen Anne Boleyn after her 
 murder, was in one of his bursts of contempt for her more 
 homely namesake. The little Princess Elizabeth having made 
 suit by her governess to be allowed to come and pay the duty 
 of a daughter to the new queen, Avhom she had the most 
 ardent desire to see, " Tell her," was the reply, " that she had 
 a mother so different from this woman, that she ought not to 
 Avish to see her." Elizabeth addressed a very pretty letter to 
 her royal step-mother to excuse her absence. 
 
 During the first few Aveeks after Plenry's marriage with 
 Anne of Cleves, he treated her Avith an outward show of 
 civility on all public occasions ; and as long as they kept the 
 same chamber, he Avas accustomed to say " Good-night, sAveet- 
 heart !" and in the moi'ning, when he left her apartment, 
 " FarcAvell, darling !" These honied words, howev'er, only 
 coA'ered increasing dislike, Avhich, Avhen he found there A\'as 
 no prospect of her bringing him a family, he openly expressed 
 in the rudest terras. Even if Anne of Cleves had been gifted 
 with those external charms requisite to please Henry's fastidi- 
 
288 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1540. 
 
 ous eye, her ignorance of the English language and of music, 
 and, above all, her deficiency in that delicate tact which con- 
 stitutes the real art of pleasing, would have prevented her 
 from gaining on his affections. Henry had been used to the 
 society of women of superior intellect and polished manners. 
 Such had been Katharine of Arragon, such Anne Boleyn ; and 
 Jane Seymour, if she lacked the mental dignity of the first, or 
 the genius and wit of the second, made up for both in the in- 
 sinuating softness which was, no doubt, the true secret of her 
 influence over Henry's mind. Anne of Cleves was no adept 
 in the art of flattery, and, though really " of meek and gentle 
 conditions," she did not humiliate herself meanly to the man 
 from whom she had received so many unprovoked marks of 
 contempt, and she ceased to behave with submissive complai- 
 sance. Henry then complained to Cromwell " that she waxed 
 willful and stubborn with him." Anne required advice, and 
 sent often to Cromwell, requesting a conference with him, but 
 in vain. Cromwell knew he was in a perilous predicament, 
 surrounded by spies and enemies, and, like the trembling vizier 
 of some Eastern tyrant, who sees the fatal bowstring ready to 
 be fitted to his neck, deemed that one false step would be his 
 ruin : he positively refused to see the queen. 
 
 A company of the knightly gallants of the court held jousts, 
 tourney, and barrier at Durham House on May Day, all dressed 
 in white velvet, in honor of the king's recent marriage with 
 Anne of Cleves. Their majesties honored the pageant with 
 their presence, and were honorably feasted and entertained by 
 their bachelor hosts. This was the last time the king and 
 queen appeared in public together. In addition to all his 
 other causes of dissatisfaction, Henry now began to express 
 scruples of conscience on the score of keeping a Lutheran for 
 his wife. Anne, who had been unremitting in her endeavors to 
 conform herself to his wishes, by studying the English lan- 
 guage and all things that were likely to please him, became 
 weary of the attempt, and was at length piqued into telling 
 him, that " If she had not been compelled to marry him, she 
 might have fulfilled her engagement with another, to whom 
 she had promised her hand." Hem-y only waited for this; 
 for though he had lived with Anne between four and five 
 months, he had never, as he shamelessly acknowledged, intend- 
 ed to retain her permanently as his wife, especially as there 
 was no pi'ospect of her bringing him a family. Her situation 
 was rendered more wretched by the dismissal of her foreign 
 attendants, whose places were supplied by English ladies ap- 
 pointed by the king. When the Flemish maids of honor were 
 
1540.] ANNE OF CLEVES. 289 
 
 about to clepavt, and the queen's chamberlain applied to Crom- 
 well for their safe conduct, the cautious minister, who had care- 
 fully kept aloof from the slightest communication with Anne or 
 her household, availed himself of this opportunity of sending a 
 secret warning to his royal mistress " of the expediency of do- 
 ing her utmost to render herself more agreeable to the king." 
 Anne acted upon the hint, but without any sort of judgment, 
 for she altered her cold and reserved deportment into an ap- 
 pearance of fondness which, being altogether inconsistent with 
 her feelings, was any thing but attractive. Henry, knowing 
 that it was impossible she could ^ntertain affection for him, 
 attributed the cliange in her manner to the representations of 
 Cromwell, to whom he had confided his intentions of obtaining 
 a divorce; and this suspicion aggravated the hatred he had 
 conceived against him, for having been the means of drawing 
 him into the marriage. Henry had recently become deeply 
 enamored of the young and beautiful Katharine Howard, niece 
 to the Duke of Norfolk, and passionately desired to make her 
 his wife. The leaders of the Roman Catholic party were eager 
 to secure the twofold triumph of obtaining a queen of their own 
 way of thinking, and eflecting the downfall of their great 
 enemy, Cromwell. There is every reason to believe that the 
 tleath of his unpopular favorite was decreed by Henry himself 
 at the very time when, to mask his deadly purpose, he bestow- 
 ed*upon him the honors and estates of his deceased kinsman, 
 Bourchier, Earl of Essex. The fact was, he had a business to 
 accomplish, for which he required a tool who would not be 
 deten-ed by the nice feelings of a gentleman of honor from 
 working his will — the attainder of two ladies allied, one by 
 blood, the other by marriage, to the royal line of Plantagenet 
 — Gertrude, Marchioness of Exeter, the widow of one of his 
 kindred victims, and Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, the 
 mother of the other. 
 
 Exactly one month after this villainy, Cromwell was arrested 
 by the Duke of Norfolk at the council-board, and sent to the 
 Tower by the command of the king, who, like a master-fiend, 
 had waited till his slave had tilled up the full measure of his 
 guilt before he executed his vengeance upon him. Another 
 victim, but a blameless one, was also selected by Henry to pay 
 the penalty of his life for having been instrumental in his mar- 
 riage with Anne of Cleves ; the pious and learned Dr. Barnes, 
 whom the queen had greatly patronized, but was unable to pre- 
 serve from the stake. Her own reign was drawing to a close. 
 A few days after Cromwell's arrest she was sent to Rich- 
 mond, under pretense that her liealth required change of air. 
 
 N 
 
290 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1540. 
 
 Cranraer brought Anne's divoi'ce before the convocation. 
 The reasons alleged for releasing the sovereign from his mat- 
 rimonial bonds wrth his queen were as follows : " That she 
 was pre-contracted to the Prince of Lorraine. That the king, 
 liaving espoused her against his will, had not given an inward 
 consent to his marriage, which was incomplete ; and that the 
 whole nation had a great interest in the king's having more 
 issue, which they saw he could never have by this queen." 
 
 At last the convocation of the clergy, without one dissentient 
 voice, pronounced the marriage to be null and void, June 9, and 
 that both parties were fre^ to marry again. The next day, 
 Archbishop Cranmer reported to the House of Lords this sen- 
 tence, in Latin and English, and delivered the documents attest- 
 ing it, which were sent to the commons. A bill to invalidate 
 the marriage was twice read, and passed, unanimously, July 
 13, being only the eighth day from the commencement of the 
 whole business. Cranmer, who had pronounced the nuptial 
 benediction, had the mortifying office of dissolving the mar- 
 riage — Anne of Cleves being the third queen from whom he 
 had divorced the king in less than seven years. The queen, 
 being a stranger to the English laws and customs, was spared 
 the trouble of appearing before the convocation, either per- 
 sonally or by her advocates. 
 
 When all things had been definitely arranged according to 
 the king's pleasure, Suflblk, Southampton, and Wriothesifey 
 were appointed by him to proceed to Richmond, for the pur- 
 pose of signifying his determination to the queen, and obtain- 
 ing her assent. Scarcely had the commissioners commenced 
 their explanation, when the terrified queen, fancying, no doubt, 
 that their errand was to conduct her to the Tower, gave in- 
 stant acquiescence. So powerfully were her feminine terrors 
 excited on this occasion, that she fainted and fell to the ground 
 before the commissioners could explain the true purport of 
 their errand. When she was sufficiently recovered to attend 
 to them, they soothed her with flattering professions of the 
 king's gracious intention of adopting her for a sister, if she 
 would resign the title of queen ; promising that she should 
 have precedence before every lady in the court, except his 
 daughters and his future consort, and that she should be en- 
 dowed with estates to the value of 3000?. a year. Anne w^as 
 greatly relieved when she understood the real nature of the 
 king's intention, and she expressed her willingness to resign 
 her'joyless honors with an alacrity for which he was not pre- 
 ])ared. Five hundred marks in gold were delivered to her 
 by Henry's commissioners as the first instalment of her re- 
 
1540.] ANNE OF CLEVES. 291" 
 
 tiring pension, as his unqueened consort and discharged wife. 
 Anne, having been kept without money, thankfully and meek- 
 ly received this supply, without noticing the mortifying con- 
 ditions on which it was proffered. She evidently esteemed 
 herself a happy woman to escape from her painful nuptial 
 bonds with Henry, without the loss of her head, and in token 
 that she was quite as willing to be rid of him as he could be 
 to cast her off, she cheerfully drew her wedding-ring from her 
 finger and sent it back to him, together with a complaisant 
 letter in German, the substance of which was explained by 
 the commissioners to their royal master. The same persons 
 came again to Richmond, July 17, and executed the king's 
 warrant for breaking up Anne's household as Queen of En- 
 gland, by discharging all the ladies and officers of state who 
 had been sworn to serve her as their queen, and introducing 
 those who had been chosen by himself to form her establish- 
 ment as the Lady Anne of Cleves, in her new character of his 
 adopted sister. Anne submitted to every thing with a good 
 grace. " She took her leave openly of such as departed, and 
 welcomed very gently her new servants at that time presented 
 to her by them," although she had not been allowed the privi- 
 lege of selecting them for herself. " She was even so com- 
 plaisant as to profess herself under great obligations to the 
 king's majesty, and that she was determined to submit herself 
 wholly to repose in his goodness ; that she would receive no 
 letters nor messages from her brother, her mother, nor none 
 of her kin and friends, but she would send them to the king's 
 majesty, and be guided by his determination." 
 
 Henry was so well pleased at the restoration of the nuptial 
 ring and the obliging demeanor of his discarded queen, that 
 he dispatched his commissioners to her again to present unto 
 her " certain things of great value and richness which his 
 grace then gave to her; also to show to her letters which his 
 majesty had received from the duke her brother, and from the 
 Bishop of Bath, ambassador from England, then resident at 
 the court of the Duke of Cleves : which letters being opened 
 and read, she gave most humble thanks to the king's majesty 
 that it pleased him to communicate the same to her." 
 
 As far as her little power went, Anne was at this time a 
 friend to the Reformation, yet soon after became a convert to 
 the Church of Rome. Owen Oglethorpe owed his promotion 
 as a bishop to her favor. Anne was so fond of her step-daugh- 
 ler, the Princess Elizabeth, that the only favor she asked of 
 Henry after the dissolution of their marriage was, that she 
 might sometimes be permitted to see her ; a request which 
 
292 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1541. 
 
 Heury was graciously pleased to grant, on condition that she 
 should not be addressed by his daughter and her attendants 
 by the style and title of queen, but simply as the Lady Anne 
 ofCleves. 
 
 After her divorce Anne continued to reside at her palace at 
 Richmond : on the 6th of August Henry honored her with a 
 visit. She received him with a pleasant countenance, and 
 treated him with all due respect ; which put him into such 
 high good humor that he supped with her merrily, and de- 
 meaned himself so lovingly, and with such singular gracious- 
 ness, that some of the bystanders fancied he was going to take 
 lier for his queen again. There is little doubt, however, that 
 he was already married to Katharine Howard, whom two 
 days afterward he publicly introduced to his court as his queen. 
 Perhaps he considered it prudent to pay a previous visit to 
 Anne, to ascertain whether any objection would be raised on 
 her part to his investing another with her lawful title. Anne 
 wisely treated the aflair with complacency. The Duke of 
 Cleves wept with bitter mortification when he received the 
 account of his sister's wrongs, and found himself precluded 
 Irorn testifying the indignation they inspired : Anne, on the 
 contrary, manifested the most lively satisfaction at having re- 
 gained her freedom. The yoke of which Henry complained 
 had, certainly, been no silken bond to her ; and no sooner was 
 she fairly released from it, than she exibited a degree of vivac- 
 ity she had never shown during her matrimonial probation. 
 The Duke of Cleves manifested a lofty spirit of independence, 
 and could never be induced to admit the invalidity of his sis- 
 ter's marriage. The Bishop of Bath, who had been sent over 
 to reconcile him, if possible, to the arrangement into which 
 Anne had entered, could get no farther declaration from him 
 than the sarcastic observation, that "He was glad his sister 
 had fared no worse." A prudent regard to her pecuniary in- 
 terests, in all probability, withheld this much injured princess 
 from returning to her father-land, and the fond arms of that 
 mother who had reluctantly resigned her to a royal husband 
 so little worthy of possessing a wife of " lowly and gentle con- 
 ditions." 
 
 Meekly as Anne demeaned herself in her retirement, a jeal- 
 ous watch was kept, not only on her proceedings, but the cor- 
 respondence of herself and liousehold, by King Henry's minis- 
 ters. Anne prudently escaped involving herself in any of the 
 political intrigues of the times : and with truly queenly dignity 
 avoided all appearance of claiming the sympathy of any clas's 
 of Henry's subjects. But she was not so much forgotten by 
 
1543-1553.] ANNE OF CLEVES. 293 
 
 the people of England as the French ambassador imagined. 
 The friends of the Reformation regarded her as the king's 
 lawful wife, and vainly hoped the time w'ould come when, 
 cloyed with the charms of the youthful rival for whom he had 
 discarded her, he would fling his idol from him, as he had 
 done the once adored Anne Boleyn, aud reinstate the injured 
 Fleming in her rights. 
 
 On the fall of Katharine Howard, an effort was made by the 
 Duke of Cleves, and the Protestant party, to effect a reunion 
 between Anne and the king. The duke's ambassadors opened 
 the business to the Earl of Southam])ton, but Crammer, warn- 
 ed by the fate of Cromwell, ventured not to urge Henry, and 
 the negotiation came to nothing. Perhaps Anne herself was 
 unwilling to risk her life, by entering again into the perilous 
 thraldom from which she had once been released. The tragic 
 fate of her fair young rival must have taught her to rejoice 
 that she had saved her own head by resigning a crown with- 
 out a struggle. In June, 1543, Anne received a friendly visit 
 from her step-daughter, the Princess Mary, who stayed with 
 her some days, a species of intercourse kept up every year 
 through Anne's life. Presents of embroidery, and Spanish 
 silk for needlework, often passed between these friends. 
 
 No event of any importance occurred to break the peaceful 
 tenor of Anne's life till the death of Henry VIH. She visited 
 the court of her royal step-son, Edward VI., June 26, 1550. 
 Her affairs had got into some disorder at that period, so that 
 she found herself under the necessity of applying to her broth- 
 er the Duke of Cleves for his assistance. That prince repre- 
 sented her distress to the English government, and with some 
 difficulty obtained for her the muniticent grant of four hundred 
 pounds toward paying her debts. The pensions of such of 
 lier servants as were paid by the crown being in arreai-, she 
 petitioned the king for them to be liquidated ; but the official 
 eply coolly stated, " tliat the king's highness being on his prog- 
 ress, could not be troubled at that time about payments." 
 Anne had acquired the English language and English habits, 
 and formed an intimate friendship with Henry's daughters. 
 England had therefore become her country, and it was natural 
 that she should prefer a residence where she was honored and 
 loved by all to whom her excellent qualities were known to 
 returning to her native land, after tlie public aff'ronts that had 
 been put upon her by the coarse-minded tyrant to whom she 
 had been sacrificed by her family. The last public appearance 
 of Anne of Cleves was at the coronation of Queen Mary, 
 where she had her place in the regal procession, and i-ode in 
 
294 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1557. 
 
 the same carnage with the Princess Elizabeth, with whom she 
 was always on the most aifectionate terms. That precedence 
 which Henry VIII. insured to her she always enjoyed, nor did 
 any of the ladies of the royal family attempt to dispute it with 
 her. 
 
 The repudiated wife of Henry VHI. possessed the placid 
 domestic virtues which seem in a manner indigenous to German 
 princesses. "She was," says Holinshed, who lived in her cen- 
 tury, "a lady of right commendable regard, courteous, gentle, 
 a good housekeeper, and very bountiful to her servants." She 
 spent her time at the head of her own little court, which was 
 a happy household within itself, and we may presume well gov- 
 erned, for we hear neither of plots, quarrels, tale-bearings nor 
 mischievous intrigues, in her home circle. She was tenderly 
 beloved by her domestics, and well attended by them in her 
 last sickness. She died at the age of forty-one, of some declin- 
 ing illness, which she took calmly and patiently. Her will 
 shows the most minute attention to all things that could ben- 
 efit her own domestic circle. 
 
 Anne of Cleves expired peacefully at the palace of Chelsea, 
 July 19, 1557, five days after she had executed her will. Her 
 beneficent spirit was wholly occupied in deeds of mercy, car- 
 ing for the happiness of her maidens and alms-children, and for- 
 getting not any faithful servant however lowly in degree. She 
 was on amicable terms with Mary and Elizabeth, and left both 
 tokens of her kindness. Although she was a Lutheran when 
 she came to this country, it is very evident from her will that 
 she died a Roman Catholic. Queen Mary appointed her place 
 of burial in Westminster Abbey, where her funei'al was per- 
 formed with some magnificence. She is buried near the high 
 altar of Westminster Abbey, in a place of great honor, at the 
 feet of King Sebert, the original founder. Her tomb is seldom 
 recognized — in fact, it looks like a long bench placed against 
 the wall, on the right hand facing the altar. On closer inspec- 
 tion, her initals A and C, interwoven in a monogram, will be 
 observed on parts of the structure, which is rather a memorial 
 than a monument, for it was never finished. 
 
1522.J 
 
 KATHARINE HOWARD. 
 
 295 
 
 Queen Katharine Howard. From a painting by Vauder Werff. 
 
 KATHARINE HOWARD, 
 
 FIFTH QUEEN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 The career of Katharine Howard affords a grand moral les- 
 son, a lesson better calculated to illustratethe fatal consequences 
 of the first heedless steps in guilt, than all the warning essays 
 that have ever been written on those subjects. She was the 
 fifth child and second daughter of Lord Edmund Howard, by- 
 Joyce, or Jocosa, daughter of Sir Richard Culpepper, of Hol- 
 ingbourne, in Kent, and widow of Sir John Leigli, knight. 
 The earliest date that can be given for Kathai'ine's birth is 
 1521 or 1522. She is supposed to have been born at Lambeth, 
 where her father. Lord Edmund Howard, had a house. That 
 brave commander, who by his valor and military skill had so 
 
296 . QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1532. 
 
 greatly contributed to the victory at Flotlden Field, which 
 preserved England from being overrun by an invading army, 
 had reaped no other reward than glory for his brilliant serv- 
 ices on that memorable day. He inherited only a younger 
 son's portion, and having married, not from motives of interest, 
 but pure affection, a lady who brought him ten children, he 
 and his numerous family had to struggle with poverty, which 
 his elevated birth and distinguished reputation rendered the 
 more irksome. Lord Edmund was not only without money, 
 and destitute of credit, but at last so deeply involved in diffi- 
 culties, from the steps taken by his creditors to recover the 
 sums he had borrowed at usurious interest, that he was com- 
 pelled to conceal himself under various disguises, for fear of 
 arrest. His lady and children, among whom was the future 
 Queen of England, were of course exposed to the bitterest 
 hardships and privations in consequence of this painful adver- 
 sity. Lord Edmund obtained the appointment of comptroller 
 of Calais, which he probably owed to the powerful interest of 
 his niece, Anne Boleyn, when her star was in the ascendant ; 
 but, in the interim, severe privations were suftered by him and 
 his children. His lady sank under the difficulties of her posi- 
 tion, and died early in life, leaving several of her children help- 
 less infants. Katharine, who had been reared at her uncle's. 
 Sir John Culpepper, at Holingbourne, in the nursery, as the 
 playfellow of his little heir, Thomas Culpepper, with whom 
 her name was afterward to be painfully connected in the page 
 of history, was subsequently received into the family of her 
 father's step-mother, Agnes Tylney, duchess-dowager of Nor- 
 folk, . It was an evil hour for the little Katharine when she 
 left the paternal roof, and the society of the innocent compan- 
 ions of her infant joys and cares, to become a neglected de- 
 pendent in the splendid mansion of a proud and heartless rela- 
 tive ; and could her brave father have foreseen the consequences 
 of this arrangement, it is easy to imagine how much rather he 
 would have placed her on her bier, than have permitted the 
 demoralizing associations to which she was exposed in her new 
 home. The Duchess of Norfolk was so perfectly unmindful 
 of her duties to her orphan charge, that Kathaiine was not on- 
 ly allowed to associate with her waiting-women, but compelled 
 at night to occupy the sleeping apartment that was common to 
 theni all. Unhappily they Avere persons of the most abandon- 
 ed description, and seem to have tifcen a fiendish delight in 
 perverting the principles and debasing the mind of the nobly- 
 born damsel who was thrown into the sphere of their pollut- 
 ing: influence. 
 
1534. J KATHARINE HOWARD. 297 
 
 Katlmrine, unfortunately for herself, while yet a child in age, 
 acquired the precocious charms of womanhood, and before she 
 had even entered her teens, attracted the attention of a h_>w- 
 born villain in the household of the duchess, named Henry 
 Manox. He was a player on the virginals, probably Katha- 
 rine's instructor on that instrument, and might take advantage 
 of the opportunities too often afforded to persons in that ca])ac- 
 ity to prefer his suit, and by degrees to establish himself on 
 terms of unbecoming familiarity with his pupil. AVhile at 
 Lambeth she formed a fatal intimacy with a female of low 
 birth, of the name of Mary Lassells, who was the nurse of her 
 uncle Lord Willaim Howard's child. On the death of Lady 
 William Howard, Mary Lassells entered the service of the 
 Duchess of Norfolk, and was permitted to sleep in the dorm^ 
 tory which the daughter of Lord Edmund Howard shai-ed with 
 the female attendants of the duchess. When Mary Lassells 
 repeated some of Manox's bold remarks to Katharine, she 
 was greatly offended, and cried, " fie upon him !" and then, un- 
 able to control or defer the effusion of her indignation, she pro- 
 ceeded with Mary Lassells in quest of him to the house of Lord 
 Beaumont, where he was, and there passionately upbraided him 
 with his baseness. Manox, by way of excuse, replied, "that 
 his passion for her so transported him beyond the bounds of 
 reason, that he wist not what he said." Whether Katharine 
 had the weakness to be satisfied with this apology is nfit 
 stated, but she was once, and once only, seen with him after- 
 ward, walking at the back of the duchess's orchard at Lam- 
 beth. Her infatuation for the low-born musician was however 
 of ephemeral date ; soon after her ai'rival at Lambeth she was 
 entangled in another clandestine courtship. Her uncle, the 
 Duke of Norfolk, retained in his service a band of gentlemen, 
 whom he called his pensioners or household troop. Tliey were, 
 for the most part, persons of better birth than fortune, and many 
 of them claimed sotne degree of affinity to their lord, whom 
 ihey were ready to follow to the field, to back him in his quar- 
 rels with his neighbors, or even, if required, in defiance to the 
 sovereign. One of these bold spirits, named Francis Derham, 
 became deeply enamored of Katharine Howard, and being allied 
 to her in blood, and an especial favorite with the old duchess, he 
 aspired to nothing less than winning her for his wife. Katha- 
 rine appears to have been kept without money by the duchess, 
 and having the passion for finery natural to girls of her age, 
 allowed Derham to supply her with all those little ornamejits 
 to her dress which she was unable to obtain for herself. On 
 one occasion, when she was lanixuishing to possess an artificial 
 
 N'* 
 
298 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1535. 
 
 flower called a French fennel, which was universally worn by 
 the ladies of Henry VIII.'s court, Derham told her, " He knew 
 of a little woman in London with a crooked back, who was 
 skilled in making all sorts of flowers of silk ;" and Katharine 
 requested him to employ this person to make a " French fen- 
 nel" for her, bidding him pay for it, and she would pay him. 
 again when she had the means. Derham complied with her 
 wish, and when he had put her in possession of this coveted 
 piece of finery, she dared not wear it till she had prevailed on 
 Lady Brereton to say she gave it to her. Derham has been 
 represented as a person in the lowest class of society : this is a 
 mistake, for not only was he a relation of the ducal line of 
 Howard, but evidently a gentleman of some property. When- 
 ever the inconsiderate Katharine desired silks, satins, or even 
 velvet, for her habiliments, she allowed him to procure them 
 for her, under the vague promise of reimbursing him for his 
 outlay at some future period. On the New Year's Day they 
 exchanged love-tokens. Derham gave Katharine asilkheart's- 
 ease, and she gave him a band and sleeves for a shirt, with 
 many kind expressions at the same time, forgetting that she, 
 in whose veins the blood of the Plantagenets and Cailovingian 
 monarchs mingled, was no mate for one of her uncle's gentle- 
 men-at-arms ; she consented to become the troth-plight or afli- 
 anced wife of Francis Derham. Li Scotland, to this day, the 
 acknowledgment that passed between Katharine Howard and 
 Derham would constitute binding wedlock. Derham asked 
 her permission to call her " wife," and entreated her to call 
 hira " husband," to which Katharine replied, " she was con- 
 tent that it should be so." The only care the Duchess of 
 Norfolk appears to have taken for the preservation of her 
 youthful grand-daughter's honor was, to have the doors of the 
 chamber in which she and her waiting-women slept locked 
 every night, and the keys brought to her; but this caution 
 was defeated by the subtlety of one or other of her attendants, 
 by whom they were privily stolen away, and Derham was ad- 
 mitted in defiance of all propriety. Sometimes he would 
 bring strawberries, apples, wine, and other things to make 
 good cheer with, after the duchess was gone to bed. 
 
 Derham gave all his money into Katharine's keeping; and 
 once, when he was going on some secret expedition, he left 
 the bond for a hundred pounds that was due to him in her 
 custody, telling her, " that if he never returned, she was to 
 consider it as her own." Katharine inquired whither he was 
 going, but he would not satisfy her on that point. How long 
 his absence lasted, and of the nature of the business in which 
 
1536.] KATHARINE HOWARD. 299 
 
 he was engaged, thei'e is no evidence ; but as lie was after- 
 ward accused of piracy, it is possible that he had embarked in 
 a desperate enterprise of that kind, with a view of improving 
 his fortunes. Derham was occasionally tormented with jeal- 
 ousy, and fears of losing Katharine. He especially dreaded her 
 going to court ; and as she was eager to go, they had high 
 words on this subject. Derham told her, " If she went, he 
 would not tarry long in the house ;" on which she replied, 
 " He might do as he list." For the sake of obtaining more 
 frequent opportuuties of being in Katharine's company, Der- 
 ham gave up his post in her uncle the duke's military retinue, 
 and entered the service of the duchess-dowager of Norfolk, 
 to whom he became gentleman-usher. 
 
 After a time, the duchess became suspicious of Derham's 
 conduct. One day she entered unexpectedly the apartment 
 where the damsels in her state establishment sat together at 
 their appointed tasks of embroidery, tapestry, or spinning, and 
 found Derham, not only trespassing within this forbidden 
 bound, but presumptuously romping with her youthful kins- 
 woman Katharine Howard ; on which, being greatly offended, 
 she beat them both, and gave Mrs. Bulmer a box on the ears 
 for sitting by and permitting such familiarity. Yet she did 
 not dismiss Derham, because he was their relation, though 
 she frequently chid the young lady, and sometimes punished 
 her on his account ; but the tender age of Katharine, who 
 was not then fourteen, appears to have blinded her as to the 
 peril in which she stood. At length the dreadful truth was 
 forced upon the attention of Katharine's careless guardian by 
 one of the women who had long been privy to the matter. 
 Derham would, in all probability, have paid with his blood 
 the penalty of his audacity, but he fled before the storm, and 
 took refuge in Ireland, where he pursued the vocation of a 
 pirate. The matter was hushed up out of respect to the feel- 
 ings of Katharine's noble father, and for the sake of her sisters 
 atid other members of her illustrious family, who would have 
 been in some degree involved in her disgrace had it been 
 made public. The household of the duchess was purified of 
 the abandoned women who had warped the youthful mind of 
 Katharine, and the damsel was herself placed under a salutary 
 restraint. It appears, however, that she contrived, through 
 the agency of a female in the house, named Jane Acworth, 
 who possessed the pen of a ready writer, to carry on a secret 
 correspondence. After a time her secretary, as she called this 
 person, married a gentleman of the name of Bulmer, and went 
 to live at York ; and Katharine, separated from all evil asso- 
 
300 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1540. 
 
 ciates, acquired, as she advanced toward womanhood, the re- 
 tiring grace and feminine reserve natural to that season of 
 life. She even became remarkable for her modest and maid- 
 enly deportment. When Derhara found means to return 
 clandestinely from Ireland, she positively refused to have any 
 communication with him. His attachment was, however, of 
 an enduring character, and his unwelcome constancy was to her 
 productive of the most fatal results. There was at that time 
 a report in circulation, that a matrimonial engagement was in 
 contemplation between Katharine Howard and her maternal 
 kinsman, Thomas Culpepper ; and Derham attributing her 
 altered manner to her preference of this gentleman, asked her 
 angrily, " If she were going to be mari'ied to him, for he had 
 heard it so reported ?" — " What should you trouble me there- 
 with ? for you know I will not have you," was Katharine's 
 contemptuous rejoinder ; " and if you heard such report, you 
 heard more than I do know." Culpepper was Katharine 
 Howard's first cousin, being the nephew of her deceased 
 mother. The vehement opposition of Derham to Katharine's 
 intention of going to court appears like an assertion on his 
 part, as far as circumstances would permit, of a right to con- 
 trol her actions. 
 
 At a banquet given by the Bishop of Winchester to his 
 royal master a few weeks after his marriage with Anne of 
 Cleves, Henry VHI. first became attracted by Katharine 
 Howard. When Gardiner observed the impression made by 
 the charms of the fiiir niece of his patron the Duke of Noi-folk, 
 he contrived that the king should have frequent opportunities 
 of seeing her. The king was observed by many citizens of 
 London to pass over the Thames to her in a little boat, fre- 
 quently in the day-time, and also at midnight. Katharine 
 Howard's appointment as maid of honor to Anne of Cleves 
 took place at the time when the queen was deprived of her 
 foreign attendants. How far the king's addresses were en- 
 couraged by the youthful Katharine is not known. She seems 
 to have behaved with greater propriety than either Anne 
 Boleyn or Jane Seymour under similar circumstances ; for no 
 one has accused her of treating the queen with disrespect, or 
 presuming to assume airs of state in rivalry to her. Derham 
 had vanished so entirely from the scene, that no one knew 
 whether he were living or dead. This was an auspicious cir- 
 cumstance for Katharine. The old Duchess of Norfolk took 
 infinite pains to secure the royal alliance for her fair young 
 protege. She bestowed costly array and jewels on her to 
 enhance her native attractions, and instructed her in what 
 
1540.J KATHARINE HOWAED. 301 
 
 iTiaiiiier to demean herself to the kin t, so as to please him. 
 Slie was even guilty of the folly of conanending Katharine to 
 the king as a person worthy of the honor of becoming his 
 wife, and one calculated to promote his happiness. If Katha- 
 rine had flattered herself with the idea, that because some 
 vears had passed away since her early misconduct had occur- 
 ]-ed it was forgotten, she must have been undeceived when 
 she received the following letter from one of her former un- 
 principled confidantes, the person through whose assistance she 
 had carried on a clandestine and forbidden correspondence 
 with Derham : 
 
 JOAN EULMER TO KATHARINE HOWARD. 
 
 "If I could wish unto you all the honor, wealth, and good fortune you 
 could desire, you would neither lack health, wealth, long life, nor yet pros- 
 perity. Nevertheless, seeing I can not as I would express this unto you, I 
 would with these my most hearty salutations let you know, that whereas it 
 hath been shown unto me that God of his high goodness hath put unto the 
 knowledge of the king a contract of matrimony that the queen hath made 
 with another before she came into England, and thereupon tliere will be a 
 lawful divorce had between them ; and as it is thought the king of hia goodness 
 will i)ut you in the same honor that she was in, which no doubt you be 
 worthy to have, most heartily desiring you to have in your remembrance the 
 unfeigned love that my heart hath always borne toward you, which for the 
 same kindness found in you again hath desii-ed always your presence, if it 
 might be so, above all other creatures, and the cluxnce of fortune hath brought 
 me, on the contrary, into the utmost misery of the world and most wretched 
 life. Seeing no ways, then, I can express in writing, knowing no remedy 
 out of it, without you of your goodness will find tiie means to get me to 
 London, which will be very hard to do ; but if you write unto my husband 
 and command him to bring me up, which I think he dare not disobey, for if 
 it might be, I would fain be with you before you were in your honor ; and 
 in the mean season I beseech you to save some room for me, what you shall 
 think fit yourself, for the neai'cr I were to you the gladder I would be of it, 
 what pains soever I did take. 
 
 '•I would write more unto you, but I dare not be so bold, for considering 
 the great honor you are toward, it did not become me to put myself in pres- 
 ence ; but the remembrance of the perfect honesty that I have always known 
 to be in you, and the report of Sir George Seaford, which hath assured me 
 that the same thing remains in you still, hath encouraged me to this. Where- 
 upon I beseech you not to be forgetful of this my request ; for if you do not 
 help me, I am not like to have worldly joys. Desiring you, if you can, to 
 let me have some answer of this for the satisfying of my mind ; for I know 
 the Queen of Britain will not forget her secretary, and tavor you will show 
 your umhle snrvant, with heart unfeigned, Jone Bulmer." 
 
 "York, the 12th day of July." 
 
 The letter of Joan Bulmer was only the foretaste of what 
 Katharine had to expect. No sooner was the rumor of the 
 king's divorce from his new queen, combined with the report 
 of his passion for her, spread abroad, than she found herself 
 
302 QUE^.NS OF ENGLAND. [1540. 
 
 beset with those persons whom, of all the world, it was most 
 to her interest to have kept at a distance. The evil spirits 
 who had departed from her for a season returned to harass 
 and intimidate her with demands which she wanted the moral 
 courage to withstana. In fact, she had no power to extricate 
 lierself from these degrading connections, unless she had re- 
 vealed her former misconduct to the king. But even if Katha- 
 line had been permitted by her family to make such a disclos- 
 ure to her royal lover, she M'as placed in a predicament that 
 left her only the alternative of becoming a queen, or confessing 
 her own disgrace : she chose the first. 
 
 The nuptials of the royal Bluebeard of English history with 
 Katharine Howard were privately solemnized Avithin a few 
 days after he was released from his marriage vows to Anne 
 of Cleves. The day, the hour, the witnesses, and the person 
 by whom the nuptial benediction was pronounced, are not on 
 record; but on the 8th of August, 1540, Katharine Howard 
 was introduced by Henry at Hampton Court as his queen. 
 On that day she took her seat at chapel in the royal closet by 
 his side. She afterward dined in public, on which occasion 
 she placed her youngest step-daughter, the Princess Elizabeth, 
 opposite to herself at table, and always gave her the place of 
 honor next to her own person, because she was the daughter 
 of her cousin Anne Boleyn. 
 
 The historians of this period bear universal testimony to 
 the passionate fondness of the king for his new consort. Mar- 
 iliac, the French ambassador, who had enjoyed the opportu- 
 nity of paying his compliments to the royal pair on their mar- 
 riage, in a letter to his own sovereign Francis I., dated Sep- 
 tember 3, 1540, gives the following lively sketch of Katha- 
 rine's appearance in her bridal court, and Henry's demeanor 
 to her: "The new queen is a young lady of moderate beauty, 
 but superlative grace : in stature she is small and slender. 
 Her countenance is very delightful, of which the king is so 
 greatly enamored, that he knows not how to make sufficient 
 demonstrations of his affection for her, and very far exceeds 
 the caresses he ever bestowed on the others. She is dress- 
 ed after the French fashion, like all the other ladies of this 
 court, and bears for her device round her arms, Non aultre 
 volonte que le sienne, ' No other will than his.' " The only 
 authentic portrait of the Howard queen is an original sketch 
 of her among the Holbein heads in the royal library at Wind- 
 sor. She is there represented as a fair blooming girl in her 
 teens, with large laughing blue eyes and light brown hair, 
 which is folded in Madonna bands on either side a brow of 
 
1540.] KATHARINE HOWARD. 303 
 
 child-like simplicity. It is the countenance of an unintellectual 
 little romp trying to assume an air of dignity, and reminds us 
 of a good-humored Flemish peasant rather than a courtly 
 beauty and a queen. Instead of the slender graceful propor- 
 tions described by Marillac, she is so plump and round, that 
 she appears literally bursting out of her tight boddice, which 
 is made very high, and fits closely to her shape. It opens a 
 little in front, and is f\istened with a small round brooch. 
 Her head-dress is a small French hood sitting quite flat to the 
 head, with a narrow plaited border. 
 
 If the charms of royalty and power had inlled the young 
 queen into forgetfulness of the precarious tenure on whicli 
 these perilous distinctions were held by Henry's wives, she 
 was full soon reminded that th^ sword was suspended over 
 her own head by a single hair. Within three weeks after her 
 marriage with the king, mysterious reports to her disparage- 
 ment were in circulation, for, on the 28th of August, the i 
 tention of the privy council was called to the fact that a certa- 
 priest at Windsor was accused, with others of his company, o. 
 having spoken unbefitting words of the queen's grace, for 
 which he and another person had been apprehended. The 
 priest was committed to the custody of Wriothesley, the king's 
 secretary, and the other incarcerated in the keep of Windsor 
 Castle. How alarming any investigation of scandals that 
 might lead to the discovery of those passages in her early life 
 which have been detailed must have been to the queen may 
 b'e imagined. With such a secret as she had on her mind, 
 her diadem could have poorly compensated her for the agoniz- 
 ing apprehensions under which she must have writhed while 
 the examinations were pending. Henry, being in the first in- 
 toxication of his bridal happiness, passed the matter liglitly 
 over. "The priest was simply enjoined to confine himself to 
 his own diocese, and admonished by his majesty's command 
 to be more temperate in the use of his tongue;" but the per- 
 son from whom he had heard the unbefitting words of the 
 queen, which had been unguardedly repeated by him, was 
 confined till farther order. It was, in all probability, this af- 
 fair that afforded her enemies the first clue to Katharine's early 
 errors, though the cloud passed over for a time. If she had 
 been of a vindictive temper, a severer penalty might have been 
 paid by those who had thus maligned her within the verge of 
 her own court, and measures would have been taken to put to 
 silence every tongue that ventured to disparage her. 
 
 Neither pomp nor regal splendor distinguished the court of 
 Katharine Howard. We find no records of her indulsiino: her 
 
304 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1541. 
 
 love of dress in tlie purchase of costly robes or jewelry, nor of 
 gifts bestowed on her kindred or favorites. So quiet and unos- 
 tentatious was the tenor of her life at this period, that the only 
 matter worthy of notice during her residence at Hampton Court 
 is the order to her tailor, dated March 1, to supply a few need- 
 ful articles for tiie use of the venerable Countess of Salisbury, 
 at that time an attainted prisoner in the Tower of London, 
 under sentence of death, and despoiled of all her substance. 
 
 As Katharine's influence with the king increased, she grew 
 impatient of the tutelage of her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, 
 who certainly did not possess the art of conciliating the afl^ec- 
 tions of the ladies of his family, since he was at open variance 
 with his wife, his sister, his daughter, his niece, and his ste])- 
 mother, the duchess-dowageV of Norfolk. It might be that 
 Kathnrine took part in the quarrel between him and the last- 
 lyanied lady, with whom she was certainly on terms of the 
 r(^Teatest confidence; but from whatever cause their disagree- 
 waent arose, it was highly imprudent of the queen, who was 
 Oiaturally an object of jealousy and distrust to the Protestant 
 party, to deprive herself of the j^rotection and support of her 
 powerful kinsman. The event afforded a striking exemplifica- 
 tion of the divine proverb, that "a house divided against itself 
 can not stand." Katharine, in the pride of youth and beauty, 
 and blinded by her boundless influence over the mind of a royal 
 husband, forgot, perhaps, that the throne to which his capri- 
 cious passion had exalted her was based on the graves of three 
 of her predecessors, and that it was only too likely to prove 
 in her own case (as in that of Anne Boleyn) a splendid ascent 
 to a scaftbld ; she imagined, that while she was all-powerful 
 with Henry, she might defy the rest of the world. The early 
 follies of Katharine were known to too many not to have reach- 
 ed the persons most interested in destroying her influence with 
 the king; and if they delayed striking the blow that was to 
 lay her honors in the dust, it was only to render it more ef- 
 fectual. There was an insurrection in Yorkshire, headed by 
 Sir John Neville. Henry, attributing this to the influence of 
 Cardinal Pole, gave orders for the execution of the venerable 
 Countess of Salisbury, his mother, who had lain under sentence 
 of death in the Tower for upward of a twelvemonth. 
 
 Henry's mistrust of the papal party, in consequence of thelate 
 insurrection, induced him to leave the administration of aftairs 
 in the hands of Cranmer, and Seymour, Earl of Hertford, the 
 brother of the late Queen Jane, when he proceeded on his 
 journey into Yorkshire. Queen Katharine was the compajiion 
 of his journey : they left London early in July, passed some 
 
1541.] KATHARINE HOWARD. 305 
 
 days at the palace at Grafton, and so traveled through North- 
 ampton and Lincolnshire to York. The progress was attend- 
 ed with some degree of splendor, bnt more of terror. Henry- 
 was received by his subjects on the road as a destroying angel, 
 ready to inflict the vengeance of heaven on the counties inii)li- 
 cated in the late revolt. As the best propitiation they could 
 devise, the men of Lincolnshire offered him money in all the 
 towns through which he passed with his fair young queen. 
 
 It was during this fatal progress that Katharine, Avhen at 
 Ponlefract Castle, sealed her own doom by admitting Francis 
 Derham into her household, as a gentleman in Avaiting and 
 private secretary to herself. When we reflect on the nature 
 of som.e of the letters the unfortunate Katharine was in the 
 habit of receiving, we may readily suppose she preferred the 
 dreadful alternative of employing Derham as her amanuensis 
 rather than a person unacquainted with her fatal secret. It 
 is a doubtful point whether the " mysteries of writing," and 
 consequently of reading letters, were among the accomplish- 
 ments of this ill-fated queen. It is certain that no letter 
 written by her can be found. The Duchess of Norfolk has 
 been accused of having herself introduced Derham into her 
 grand-daughter's court, and desiring her to give him some 
 appointment in her household. Neither of these unhappy 
 ladies had the moral courage to put a stern negative on his 
 audacious demand of preferment. That it Avas not willingly 
 given may certainly be inferred from the fact, that Katharine 
 had been Queen of England upward of a year before she 
 granted this appointment, dated August 27, 1541. Her cousin 
 Thomas Culpepper had a long private interview with her at 
 Lincoln, in her closet or privy-chamber at eleven at night, no 
 one being present but Lady Rochford, her principal lady in 
 waiting, by whom he was introduced. The conference lasted 
 many hours, and at his departure the queen presented him 
 with a chain and a rich cap. This secret meeting was after- 
 ward construed into a proof of improper intimaey between 
 the queen and her kinsman. 
 
 Katharine, being of a ])lastic age and temper, readily adapt- 
 ed herself to Henry's humor, and made it her study to amuse 
 and cheer him when he came to her fatigued and harassed 
 with the cares of state. The increase of her influence during 
 this progress was beheld with jealous feelings by those who 
 were desirous of destroying her credit with the king. At 
 this momentous crisis the archbishop communicated to his 
 colleagues, the Earl of Hertford and the lord chancellor, the 
 particulars of the queen's early misconduct in the house of 
 
306 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1541. 
 
 the Duchess of Norfolk, which had been conveyed to him by 
 John Lassells, brother of the vile woman who had connived at 
 the indiscretions, and finally the guilt, of the unhappy girl. 
 This disclosure was stated to have taken place in a conver- 
 sation between Lassells and his sister, in consequence of his 
 advising her to ask for a place in the queen's household, as 
 others had done ; to which Mary said " she did not wish to 
 enter into the service of the queen, but that she pitied her." 
 " Why so ?" asked Lassells. " Marry !" replied the other, 
 " because she is light both in conditions and living," and then 
 she related the tale of Katharine's lapse from virtue with 
 Derham in revolting terms. Alas, for the motherless child 
 who had, in the most perilous season of woman's life, been 
 exposed to the contaminating society of such a female ! The 
 disclosure was regarded by the Earl of Hertford and the lord 
 chancellor as a matter proper to be laid before the king, and 
 the task was deputed to Cranmer. 
 
 The queen, unconscious how dark a cloud impended over 
 her, was receiving fresh tokens of regard every hour from 
 Plenry VIII. They arrived at Windsor October 26, and pro- 
 ceeded to Hampton Court on the 30th, in readiness to keep 
 the festival of All Saints. Henry and Katharine both re- 
 ceived the sacrament that day. Henry, on this occasion, 
 while kneeling before the altar, raised his eyes to heaven, and 
 exclaimed aloud, " I render thanks to thee, O Lord ! that after 
 so many strange accidents that have befallen my mari'iages, 
 thou hast been pleased to give me a wife so entirely conform- 
 ed to my inclinations as her I now have." He then request- 
 ed his confessor, the Bishop of Lincoln, to prepare a public 
 form of thanksgiving to Almighty God for having blessed him 
 with so loving, dutiful, and virtuous a queen. This was to be 
 read on the morrow, which was All Soul's Day ; but on that 
 fatal morrow, while Henry was at mass, the paper that con- 
 tained the particulars of the misconduct of her whom he es- 
 teemed such a jewel of womanhood, was put into his hands 
 by Cranmer, with a humble request that he would read it 
 when he was in entire privacy. The object of Cranmer in 
 presenting the information against the queen to Henry in the 
 chapel, was evidently to prevent the announcement to the 
 people of the public form of thanksgiving which had been 
 prepared by the bishop. The absence of Katharine from her 
 accustomed place in the voyal closet, afforded the archbishop 
 the better opportunity of striking this decisive blow. Henry 
 at first treated the statement as a calumny invented for the de- 
 struction of the queen ; for, as he himself afterward declared, 
 
1541.] KATHARINE HOWARD. 30? 
 
 " he so tenderly lovccl the woman, and had conceived such a 
 constant opinion of her honesty, that he supposed it rather 
 to be a forged matter than the truth, and yet, the information 
 having been once made, he could not be satisfied till the cer- 
 tainty thereof were known, but he would not in any wise, that 
 in the inquisition any spark of scandal should arise against 
 the queen." He then dispatched the lord privy seal to 
 London, where John Lassells Avas secretly kept, to try if he 
 would stand to his saying. Lassells reiterated his tale, and 
 added that "He would rather die in the declaration of the 
 truth, since it so nearly touched the king, than live with the 
 concealment of the same." His sister was also examined, who 
 gave evidence of the early misconduct of the queen. 
 
 The facts that both Derham and Manox were in the royal 
 household were, of course, fatally corroborative of her deposi-. 
 tion. The king instantly ordered Derham. to be taken iirto 
 custody on an accusation of piracy, because he had been former- 
 ly noted in Ireland for that offense, making that pretense lest 
 any spark of suspicion should get abroad from his examination. 
 The arrest was effected ; and Henry's Avrathful jealousy having 
 been powerfully excited by a report that the old Duchess of 
 Norfolk should have had the folly to say, when in the queen's 
 chamber, to a certain gentlewoman, " There," pointing to 
 Derham, " this is he who fled away into Ireland for the queen's 
 sake," caused him to be examined very sharply as to the na- 
 ture of his connection with the queen. Derham boldly ac- 
 knowledged " that a promise of marriage had been exchanged 
 between himself and the queen many years previous to her 
 union with the king. That he was accustomed to call her 
 wife, and she had often called him husband, before witnesses ; 
 that they had exchanged gifts and love-tokens frequently in 
 those days ; and he had given her money whenever he had it. 
 He solemnly denied that the slightest familiarity had ever 
 taken place between them since Katharine's marriage with 
 the king." This was the substance of his first statements, 
 freely given, nor could the extremity of torture wring from 
 him any thing of farther import against the queen ; neither 
 is there the slightest evidence tending to convict her of 
 having renewed her criminal intimacy with him. On the 
 contrary, it would appear by the bitter scorn of her expres- 
 sions, when compelled to name him, that he had become 
 the object of her greatest aversion after she had seen the folly 
 of her early infatuation, and felt the blight his selfish passion 
 had been the means of casting on her morning bloom of life. 
 
 According to the historical traditions of Hampton Court, the 
 
308 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1541. 
 
 wretched Katharine called incessantly on tlie name of her royal 
 husband, and made more than one desperate attempt to see 
 him. The first time was at the hour when she knew he would 
 be at mass in the chapel, and although she had been ordered 
 to confine herself to her own chamber, she was not so strict- 
 ly kept but she watched her opportunity to rush into the pri- 
 vate gallery leading from her bedroom to the queen's entrance 
 to the royal closet in the chapel, and was with difl[iculty pre- 
 vented from bui'sting into his presence, with the declared in- 
 tent of throwing herself at his feet and imploring his mercy, 
 or claiming his protection. When she was stopped and car- 
 ried back, she struggled violently, and her screams were heard 
 by every one in the chapel. On another occasion, she escaped 
 fiom her chamber through the low door in the alcove at the 
 
 ^bed's head, into the back stairs' lobby, and though instantly 
 pursued, she reached tlie foot of the private stair, called "the 
 maid of honor's stair," before she was overtaken and brought 
 back. 
 
 When the result of the first day's investigation Avas brought 
 to the king by the persons employed in that business, he 
 seemed like a man pierced to the heart ; and after vainly 
 
 ■ struggling for utterance, his pride and firmness gave way, 
 and he burst into a passion of tears. He left Hampton Court 
 the next morning without seeing the queen, or sending her 
 any message. The same day the council came to lier in a 
 body, and informed her of the charge that had been made 
 against her. She denied it with earnest protestations of her 
 innocence, but the moment they were gone fell into fits so vio- 
 lent that her life and reason were that night supposed to be in 
 danger. When this was reported to the king, he sent Cran- 
 mer to her in the morning with a deceitful assurance, that 
 "If she would acknowledge her transgressions, the king, al- 
 though her life had been forfeited by the law, had determined 
 to extend unto her his gracious mercy." Katharine, who was 
 in a state of fiantic agony when the archbishop entered, was 
 overpowered with softer emotions on hearing the message, 
 and unable to do more than raise her hands with expressions 
 of thankfulness to the king for having shown her more mercy 
 than she had dared to ask for herself. In the evening Cran- 
 mer returned to her again, when, finding her more composed, 
 he drew from her a promise "that she would reply to his 
 questions as truly and faithfully as she would answer at the 
 day of judgment, on the promise which she made at her bap- 
 tism, and by the sacrament which she received on All Hallows' 
 Day last past." lu the whole course of these interrogations, 
 
1541.] KATHARINE HOWARD. 309 
 
 there is nothing more extraordinary tlian the perversity of 
 Katharine in refusing to acknowledge that, as far as an obUga- 
 tion which had not received tlie sanction of the Church could 
 go, she was plighted to her kinsman, Francis Derham, before 
 she received the nuptial ring from King Henry. But, with 
 the same headstrong rashness which had characterized her con- 
 duct from childhood, she determined to cling to her queenly 
 dignity at all hazards rather than admit of any plea that would 
 have the effect of rendering her subsequent marriage with the 
 king null and void. 
 
 King Henry remained in the neighboring palace of Oatlands, 
 whither he had withdrawn to await the result of these investi- 
 gations. He appears to have been torn with contending pas- 
 sions, and not venturing to trust to his own feelings with re- 
 gard to his unhappy queen, lie left all proceedings to the di- 
 rection of Cranmer and the council. Katharine was now placed 
 under arrest, and her keys were taken away from her. On 
 the 11th of October, the Archbishop of Canterbury, with 
 Wriothesley and Mr. Comptroller, received orders to go to the 
 queen, and signify to her the king's pleasure that slie should 
 depart op the following Monday to Sion House, while the in- 
 quiry pended. 
 
 Those who at first raked up the most trivial gossips' tales 
 (that eight years ago circulated among the menials of the 
 Duchess of Norfolk) in order to establish the fact of a pre-con- 
 tract between Derham and the queen, now cautioned their col- 
 leagues " by no means to mention their jyre-contract^ lest it 
 should serve her for an excuse to save her life." The council 
 had, in iixct, come to the resolution of proceeding against the 
 queen on the awful charge of adultery, and finding it impossi- 
 ble to convict her of that crime with Derham, they determined 
 to fix it on some other person. But so circumspect had been 
 the deportment of Katharine since her marriage, that the only 
 man to whom she had ever manifested the slightest degree of 
 condescension was her first cousin, Thomas Culpepper, the son 
 of her uncle. Sir John Culpepper, of Holingbourne in Kent. 
 His name is found among the royal appointments at the mar- 
 riage of Anne of Cleves, and he distinguished himself in the 
 jousts at Durham House in honor of those nuptials. 
 
 The removal of Katharine as a degraded prisoner from Plamp- 
 ton Court to Sion took place November 18. Her disgrace was 
 proclaimed to her attendants, who were assembled in the Star 
 Chamber for that purpose, and her household was discharged. 
 The Duke of Norfolk was dispatched, by order of the king, to 
 make search at the duchess's house at Lambeth for Derham's 
 
310 QUEENS OE ENGLAND. [1541. 
 
 ])apevs and eifects ; before his arrival, how-ever, the old duchess, 
 with the assistance of the yeomen of her kitchen, and some 
 othei-s of her people, had broken open the cofiers and trunks 
 belonging to Derham, and destroyed every thing that Avas likely 
 to be brought in evidence against herself, or any of the parties 
 implicated in a knowledge of the queen's early history. When 
 the duke reported what had been done by his step-mother, she 
 and all her servants were placed under arrest, and very strictly 
 examined by the council. It was then shown that the old duch- 
 ess had broken open Derham's trunks and examined the con- 
 tents but nothing farther could be found than several bundles of 
 papers, some ballads, and books with musical notes for playing 
 on the lute. How his trunks and personal property came to be in 
 the Duchess of Norfolk's house can only be accounted for on the 
 supposition that his office at court did not entitle him to lodg- 
 ings in the palace ; that he was only there in rotation with oth- 
 er gentlemen-m-waiting, and that his general home was in the 
 house of his noble kinswoman, the Duchess of Norfolk, Al- 
 though his parentage is a mystery, for he appears as if stand- 
 ing alone in the world, connected only by some unexplained 
 tie of kindred with the noble house of Howard, yet he always 
 had the command of money, as we find by his costly presents 
 to Katharine Avhen she was living as a dependent in the house 
 of the duchess. Derham, from first to last, represented himself 
 as the affianced husband of the queen, and there can be no 
 doubt, as the ecclesiastical law then stood, that he could have 
 invalidated her marriage with Henry, or any other man, by the 
 proofs he adduced of his prior claim to her hand. 
 
 Queen Katharine and her grandmother were both at this 
 period sick nearly unto death with grief and terror, and in 
 their separate prisons they were assailed with subtle interroga- 
 tories day after day by members of King Henry's council, of 
 which the purport was to outrage all the ties of nature by ren- 
 dering them witnesses against each other. Culpepper and Der- 
 ham were arraigned for high treason in Guildhall before the 
 lord-mayor, contrary to any previous form of law — ^justice was 
 oiat of the question, for on the right hand of the intimidated 
 civic magistrate sat the lord chancellor, on his left the Duke 
 of Suffolk. By those state officers of the crown, some of whom 
 had previously presided while the prisoners were questioned 
 by torture, Derham and Culpepper were adjudged guilty, and 
 condemned to the dreadful death decreed to traitors. But 
 though this sentence was pronounced, no proof of the crime of 
 which they were accused had been established, and as it was 
 considered necessary to substantiate the charge against the 
 
1542.J KATHARINE HOWARD. 3H 
 
 queen, they were respited for a few days — not in mercy, but that 
 they might be subjected to fresh examinations by torture. 
 They bore the extremity of their suiferiiigs from day to day, 
 if not unshrinkingly, without permitting any thing that could 
 criminate the queen to be wrung from the weakness of exhaust- 
 ed nature. Culpepper maintained the innocence of his royal 
 kinswoman to the last, unswervingly, nor could the extremity 
 of torture draw from Derham an admission that the slightest 
 criminality had passed between himself and Katharine since 
 her marriage with the king. 
 
 Derham was hanged and quartered, and Culpepper behead- 
 ed. Both protested their innocence of the crime for which 
 they sufiered. The heads of both were placed on London 
 Bridge. 
 
 The new year opened dismally on the fallen queen, who was 
 still confined to the two apartments, hung with mean stuft', that 
 had been allotted to her in the desecrated abbey of Sion. Her 
 reflections during the two dreary months she had worn away 
 in her wintry prison may be imagined ; they were months re- 
 plete with every agony — shame, grief, remorse, and terrible 
 suspense. Katharine had, indeed, received a promise in the 
 king's name from Cranmer that her life should be spared ; but 
 if, relying upon the sacredness of that promise, she had fondly 
 imagined the bitterness of death was passed, she must have 
 been the more astounded when the bill for her attainder was 
 •brought into the House of Lords. She was without friends, 
 counselors, or money at this awful crisis. The only person 
 who might have succored her in her sore distress was her un- 
 cle, the Duke of Norfolk, if he had been so disposed. But 
 Katharine had offended her uncle by withdrawing herself from 
 his political tutelage. Like her fair and reckless cousin, Anne 
 Boleyn, she had spurned his trammels in the brief hour of her 
 queenly pride, and when the day of her adversity arrived, he 
 not only abandoned her to her fate, but ranged himself on the 
 side of her enemies. 
 
 Katharine Howard had no trial ; but as soon as the bill for 
 her attainder had passed, she was conveyed by water from her 
 doleful pi'ison at Sion to the Tower of London, under the charge 
 of the Duke of Suffolk. From the length of the voyage and 
 the season of the year, darkness must have closed over the win- 
 try waters of the Thames before the forlorn captive arrived at 
 her destination, exhausted with fatigue and benumbed with 
 cold. If this were the case, she was^pared the horror of be- 
 holding* the heads of her seducer Derham, and her unfortunate 
 cousin, Thomas Culpepper, over the bridge. One night of sus- 
 
312 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1542. 
 
 pense was passed by Katharine in her new prison lodging be- 
 fore her fate was sealed. How that interval was spent is un- 
 recorded. 
 
 Henry gave his assent the following day, February 11, to the 
 bill of attainder against his once idolized consort. The same 
 instrument included the names of Jane, Lady Kochford, Thom- 
 as Culpepper, and Francis Derham. The severed heads of 
 those gentlemen had been for the last two months witliering 
 on London Bridge ; so to them the sentence was innnaterial. 
 Katharine made the Duke of Suffolk the bearer of a pathetic 
 message to the House of Lords, requesting tlie inteicession 
 of the peers with his majesty, not for her own life, but that 
 he would be graciously pleased to have compassion on her 
 brothers, that they might not suifer for her faults ; lastly, she 
 besought his majesty, that it would i)lease him to bestow some 
 of her clothes on those maid-servants who had been with her 
 from the time of her marriage, since she had now nothing else 
 left to recompense them as they deserved. 
 
 No one appears ever to have felt deeper contrition for the 
 offenses of her youth than this unhappy queen. When she was 
 informed that she must prepare for death, she addressed her 
 confessor. Dr. Longland, Bishop of Lincoln, in these words, 
 which were afterward delivered by him to a noble young lord 
 of her name and near alliance: "As to the act, my reverend 
 lord, for which I stand condemned, God and his holy angels I 
 take to witness upon my soul's salvation, that I die guiltless. 
 What other sins and follies of youth I have committed, I will 
 not excuse ; but am assured that for them God hath brought 
 this punishment upon me, and will, in his mercy, remit them, 
 for which, I pray you, pray with me unto his Son my Saviour, 
 Christ." Cranmer had humanely tried, by every means in his 
 power, to induce Katharine to preserve lier life by acknowledg- 
 ing a pre-contract with Francis Derham. But she repelled the 
 idea with scorn ; and, with the characteristic firmness of a How- 
 ard, determined rather to go to the block as Queen of England, 
 than to prolong her dishonored existence on the terms suggest- 
 ed. The Church of Rome allowed no divorce except in cases 
 of pre-contract ; and, as Katharine would not admit that she 
 was troth-plight to Francis Derham, there was no other mode 
 of severing Henry's matrimonial engagement with her than by 
 the axe of the executioner. The interval allowed to the un- 
 queened Katharine Ploward between her condemnation and 
 the execution of her sentence was brief. More time to prepare 
 for the awful change, from life to eternity, would have been 
 crranted to the lowest criminal who should have been found 
 
1542.] KATHAKINE HOWARD. 3 13 
 
 guilty by the laws of his country, than was allotted to her who 
 had shared the throne of the sovereign. The royal assent to 
 her attainder was signified to her February 11, and she was 
 brouglit to the block on the morning of the 13th, 1542. 
 
 She was only in her twentieth year. But Katharine Howard, 
 though still in the morning of life and the bloom of beauty, 
 ■was already weaned from the world : she had proved the 
 vanity of all its delusions, and the deceitfulness of royal 
 favor. More sympathy would, in all probability, have been man- 
 ifested for the young and deeply penitent queen, if she had had 
 any other companion on the scaftbld than the Lady Rochford, 
 whose conduct in regard to her accomplished hUsband and 
 Aime Boleyn had rendered her an object of general execra- 
 tion. Katharine Howard submitted to the headsman's stroke 
 with meekness and courage, and her more guilty companion 
 imitated her humility and piety in the closing scene of their 
 fearful tragedy. 
 
 The last words of Lady Rochford were, "That she sup- 
 posed God had permitted her to suffer this shameful doom as a 
 punishment for having contributed to her husband's death by 
 her false accusation of Queen Anne Boleyn, but she was guilty 
 of no other crime." This declaration was made on the scaffold, 
 probably after she had seen the head of her royal mistress 
 severed by tlie axe of the execiitioner. If urged by conscience 
 at the dreadful moment to acknowledge the guilt of perjury and 
 murder, she would scarcely have marred her dying confes- 
 sion by falsely protesting her innocence of the more venial of- 
 fenses for which she had been sentenced to die with the queen. 
 The scaffold whereon Kathai-ine Howard and Lady Rochford 
 suffered was the same on which Amie Boleyn, the Marquess 
 of Exeter, and the venerable Countess of Salisbury had been 
 ]ireviously executed. It was erected within the Tower, on 
 the space before the Church of St. Peter-ad-Vincula. It has 
 been long since removed ; but its site may still be traced by 
 the indelible stains on the flints, which faintly map out the di- 
 mensions of the fatal spot where so much royal and noble 
 blood was spilt by the headsman's axe during the Tudor reigns 
 of terror. 
 
 Thus died in the flower of her age, and in the eighteenth 
 month of her marriage, Queen Katharine Howard, the fifth 
 wife of Henry VIII., and the second queen whom he had sent 
 to the block, after repudiating a lawful wife to obtain her hand. 
 He had assumed the title of King of Ireland a few days before 
 tiie execution of his fifth consort. She therefore died the first 
 Queen of England and Ireland. 
 
 O 
 
314 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1542. 
 
 The mangled form of Katharine Howard Avas borne from 
 the bloody scaifold to a dishonored grave in St. Peter's Church 
 by the Tower with indecent haste, and Avith no more regard 
 to funeral obsequies than had been vouchsafed to her equally 
 unfortunate cousin, Anne Boleyn, near whom her remains were 
 interred. 
 
 Suit of Armor, with Liiuboys, presented by the Emperor Maximilian to Henry VIII 
 
KATHARINE PARR. 
 
 315 
 
 Queen Katharine Parr. From a painting by Holbein. 
 
 KATHAEINE PARR, 
 
 SIXTH QUEEN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 Katharine Parr was the first Protestant Queen of En- 
 gland. She was the only one among the consorts of Henry 
 VIII. who, in the sincerity of an honest heart, embraced the 
 doctrine of the Reformation, and imperiled her crown and life 
 in support of her principles. 
 
 Katharine Parr was not only Queen of England, but an En- 
 glish queen. Although of ancient and even royal descent, 
 she claimed by birth no other rank than that of a private 
 gentlewoman. Like Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour, Katha- 
 rine Parr was only the daughter of a knight ; but her father, 
 Sir Thomas Parr, was of a more distinguished ancestry than 
 
316 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1512. 
 
 either Sir Thomas Boleyn or Sir John Seymour, being a rep- 
 resentative of the ancient baronial families of Marmion, de 
 ]loos, de Lancaster, and the Nevilles. Katharine's mother, 
 Maude Green, was the co-heiress of Sir Thomas Green of 
 Boughton and Green's Norton in Northamptonshire. 
 
 Sir Thomas and Lady Parr were frequent residents in the 
 court ; but the child who was destined hereafter to share the 
 throne of their royal master, first saw the light at Kendal 
 Castle, in Westmoreland, the time-honored fortress which had 
 been the hereditary seat of her ancestors from the days of its 
 great Norman founder, their progenitor Ivo de Tallebois. 
 
 Sir Thomas and Lady Parr had two other children, William, 
 their son and heir, afterward created Earl of Essex and Mar- 
 quess of Northampton, and Anne, the wife of William Herbert, 
 the natural son of the Earl of Pembroke, to which dignity he 
 was himself raised by Edward VL Sir Thomas Parr died in 
 the year 1517, leaving his three infant children to the guardian- 
 ship of his faithful widow, who is said to have been a lady of 
 great prudence and wisdom, with a discreet care for the main 
 chance. He willed his daughters, Katharine and Anne, to 
 have eight hundred pounds between them, as marriage por- 
 tions. Four hundred pounds, Katharine's moiety of the sum 
 provided by her father for the nuptial portions of herself and 
 her sister, would be scarcely equal to two thousand pounds in 
 these days, and seems but an inadequate dowry for the 
 daughters of parents so richly endowed wath the gifts of for- 
 tune as Sir Thomas and Lady Parr. It was, however, all that 
 was accorded to her who was hereafter to contract matrimony 
 with the sovereign of the realm. It has generally been said 
 that Katharine Parr received a learned education from her 
 father ; but, as she was only in her fifth year when he died, 
 it must have been to the maternal wisdom of Lady Parr that 
 she was indebted for those mental acquirements which so em- 
 inently fitted her to adorn the exalted station to which she was 
 .afterward raised. Katharine was gifted by nature with fine 
 talcTits, and these were improved by the advantages of careful 
 cultivation. She both read and wrote Latin with facility, 
 possessed some knowledge of Greek, and was well versed in 
 modern languages. How perfect a mistress she was of her 
 own, the elegance and beauty of her devotional writings are 
 a standing monument. Somebody who affected skill in prog- 
 nostication, casting her nativity, said that she was born to sit 
 in the highest seat of imperial majesty. This she heard and 
 took such notice of, that when her mother used sometimes to 
 call her to work, she would reply — " My hands are ordained 
 
1528.] KATHARINE PARR. 31 7 
 
 to touch crowns and sceptres, and not spindles and needles." 
 This incident affords one among many instances in which the 
 prediction of a brilliant destiny has insured its own fulfillment, 
 by its powerful influence on an energetic mind. It is also an 
 exemplification at how precocious an age the germ of ambi- 
 tion may take root in the human heart. But, however dis- 
 posed the little Katharine might have been to dispense with 
 the performance of her tasks, under the idea of queening it 
 hereafter, Lady Parr was too wise a parent to allow vain 
 dreams of royalty to unfit her child for the duties of the 
 station of life in which she was born ; and notwithstanding 
 Katharine's early repugnance to touch a needle, her skill and 
 industry in its use became so remarkable, that there are spec- 
 imens of her embroidery at Sizergh Castle, the seat of her 
 Strickland relatives, preserved to this day. The friend and 
 companion of Katharine's childhood and early youth was her 
 young kinswoman Elizabeth Bellingham, daughter and co- 
 heiress of Sir Robert Bellingham, of Burneside, a beautiful 
 village near Kendal. This young lady, who was nearly re- 
 lated to Katharine, both through the Parrs and Stricklands, 
 was brought up at Kendal Castle under the maternal auspices 
 of Dame Maud Parr, and shared the studies of tlie future 
 Queen of England, who foruied so tender a regard for her, 
 that when the wild dreams of childhood touching her royal 
 destiny were strangely realized, one of her first exercises of 
 queenly influence was to send fol* her cousin Elizabeth Bel- 
 lingham to court, and bestow an appointment in her royal 
 household upon her. Though Dame Maud Parr had scarcely 
 completed her twenty-second year at the time of her hus- 
 band's death, she never entered into a second marriage, but 
 devoted herself entirely to the superintendence of her chil- 
 <lren's education. In the year 1524 she entered into a nego- 
 tiation with her kinsman Lord Dacre, for a marriage between 
 liis grandson, the heir of Lord Scrope, and her daughter 
 Katharine, of which the particulars may be learned from 
 some very curious letters preserved among the Scrope MSS. 
 These letters certify that Katharine Parr was under twelve 
 years of age in the year 1524 ; she could not, therefore, have 
 been born before 1513, We also learn tliat Lord Dacre was 
 anxious that his youthful grandson should participate in the 
 advantages of the liberal education Lady Parr was bestowing 
 on her children, and that he placed due importance on the 
 fact that the lady came of a family celebrated for sound sense 
 •and good conduct, a point little regarded now in the mar- 
 riages of the heirs of an illustrious line. Lady Parr and all her 
 
318 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1528. 
 
 lineage had a great veputatiou for wisdom, it seems ; but the 
 wisdom of this world formed so prominent a featm*e in the 
 matrimonial bargain which the sagacious widow and the 
 wary Lord Scrope were attempting to drive in behalf of their 
 children, that the affair came to nothing. 
 
 So, at a very tender age, Katharine Parr was given in mar- 
 riage to her first husband, Edward, Lord Borough of Gains- 
 borough, a mature widower, with children who had arrived at 
 man's estate. Henry, the second of these sons, after his father's 
 marriage espoused his young step-dame's friend and kinswom- 
 an, Katharine Neville, the widow of Sir Walter Strickland of 
 Sizergh. Katharine was only fifteen years old at the period of 
 her first widowhood. She had no children by Lord Borough. 
 Soon after the death of her husband, Katharine was bereaved 
 of her last surviving parent, and considered it prudent to take 
 up her abode with Lady Strickland. That lady, though she 
 had, by her marriage with Katharine's step-son Henry Bor- 
 ough, become her daughter-in-law, was quite old enough to 
 afford matronly countenance to the youthful widow of Lord 
 Borough, whom, according to the quaint custom of the time, 
 she called " her good mother." Katharine Parr and Lady 
 Strickland were alike descended from the Nevilles of Raby ; 
 Sir Walter Strickland, the deceased husband of the latter, was 
 also a relative of the Parrs ; and as Lady Strickland held of 
 the crown the wai-dship of her son, young Walter Strickland's 
 person and estates, she remained mistress of Sizei'gh Castle, 
 even after her marriage with Henry Borough. At no other 
 period of her life than the interval between her mother's 
 death and her own marriage Avith Neville, Lord Latimer, 
 could Katharine Parr have found leisure to embroider the 
 magnificent counterpane and toilet-cover, which are shown at 
 Sizergh Castle as trophies of her industry. As the ornament- 
 al labors of the needle have become once more a source of 
 domestic recreation to the ladies of England, a brief descrip- 
 tion of these beautiful and well preserved specimens of Kath- 
 arine Parr's proficiency in that accomplishment may not be 
 displeasing. The material on which both counterpane and 
 toilet-cover are worked is the richest white satin, of a fabric 
 with which the production of no modern loom can vie. The 
 centre of the pattern is a medallion, surrounded with a 
 wreath of natural flowers, wrought in twisted silks and bull- 
 ion. A spread eagle, in bold relief, gorged with the imperial 
 crown, forms tlie middle. At each corner is a lively heraldic 
 monster of the dragon class, glowing with purple, crimson, 
 and gold. The field is gayly beset with large flowers in gor- 
 
1535.] ' KATHARINE PARR. 31 9 
 
 geous colors, highly embossed and enriched with threads of 
 gold. The toilet is en suite, but of a smaller pattern. The 
 lapse of three centuries has scarcely diminished the brilliancy 
 of the colois or tarnished the bullion ; nor is the purity of the 
 satin sullied, though both these queenly relics have been 
 used, on state occasions, by the family in whose possession 
 they have remained as precious heir-looms and memorials of 
 their ancestral connection M'ith Queen Katharine Parr. The 
 apartment which Katharine occupied in Sizergh Castle is 
 still called " the queen's room." It is a fine state chamber, 
 in that ancient portion of the castle, the D'Eyncourt tower. 
 It opens tlu'ough the drawing-room, and, like that, is paneled 
 with richly-carved black oak, which is covered with tapestry 
 of great beauty. The designs represent hunting in all its 
 gradations, from a fox-chase up to a lion hunt, varied with 
 delineations of trees and flowers, and surrounded with a very 
 unique border, in which young tigers are fighting and bran- 
 dishing their claws at each other, in the manner of enraged 
 kittens. Splendid patterns for modern needlework might be 
 taken from these spirited devices. Over the lofty carved 
 chimney-piece are the arms of England and France, supported 
 between the lion and the Tudor dragon, with the motto 
 vivAT REGiNA. The date, 1509, proves they were put up 
 some years after the death of Katharine Parr, though doubt- 
 less intended to commemorate the fact that this apartment 
 was once honored by her use. The bed, with its hangings 
 of costly crimson damask, is shown as the veritable one in 
 Avhich she reposed ; but the fashion of the bedstead is too mod- 
 ern to favor the tradition. 
 
 Katharine was under twenty years of age when she be- 
 came, for the second time, the wife of a mature widower, and 
 again undertook the oflice of a step-mother. Her residence at 
 Sizergh Castle led to her marriage with John Neville, Lord 
 Latimer, a kinsman of Lady Strickland. Lord Latimer was 
 related to Katharine in about the same degree as her first 
 husband. Lord Borough. He had been previously married 
 twice, and had two children. After Katharine became the 
 Avife of Lord Latimer, she chiefly resided with him and his 
 family at his stately mansion of Snape Hall, in Yorkshire. 
 The good temper and sound sense of Katharine taught her 
 to perform the difficult duties that devolved upon her, in the 
 character of a step-mother, with such conscientious gentleness, 
 that she insured the love of all the families with whom she 
 was connected in that capacity. Lord Latimer was so stren- 
 uous a Roman Catholic, that he became one of the leaders of 
 
320 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1536. 
 
 the novthcrn insurrection on account of the suppression of the 
 monasteries and the sequestration of the Church property by 
 Cromwell, in 1536. This revolt, though chiefly proceeding 
 from the miseries of a starving population, assumed the tone of 
 a domestic crusade against the supporters of the Reformation, 
 and was called " the Pilgrimage of Grace," It was well for 
 him that his wife was related to the king, and the niece of a 
 favored member of the royal household — Sir William Parr. 
 Likewise her sister. Lady Herbert, had an appointment in 
 Jane Seymour's court. That Katharine Parr was not only ac- 
 quainted with Henry VHL, but possessed a considerable in- 
 fluence over his mind some years before there was the slight- 
 est probability of her ever becoming the sharer of his throne, 
 is certified by the history of the Throckmorton family, to 
 which we are principally indebted for the following details. 
 Sir George Throckmorton, the liusband of Katharine Parr's 
 aunt, having incurred the ill-will of Lord Cromwell, in conse- 
 quence of some disputes arising from the contiguity of their 
 manors of Coughton Court and Oursley, Cromwell endeavor- 
 ed to compass the ruin of his aristocratic neighbor by accus- 
 ing him of having denied the king's supremacy. The exist- 
 ing documents of his family prove that Sir George was re- 
 leased through the influence of his kinswoman, Kathaiine 
 Parr, and advised with by the king, at her suggestion, about 
 Cromwell, immediately before the arrest of that minister, 
 which Avas in the June of that year. This fact throws a new 
 light on the fall of Cromwell, and leads us to infer that his 
 ruin was caused not, as Burnet and his copyists assert, by 
 the enmity of Katharine Howard, but of her unsuspected suc- 
 cessor Katharine Parr, at that time a member of the Church of 
 Rome. It was probably from the eloquent lips of this strong- 
 minded and intrepid lady, when pleading for the life of her 
 uncle, that Henry learned the extent of Cromwell's rapacity, 
 and the real state of the public mind as to his administration ; 
 and thus we may, perhaps, account for the otherwise mysteri- 
 ous change in the royal mind, when the monarch, after load- 
 ing his iavorite with honors and mimunities, suddenly re- 
 solved to sacrifice hmi to popular indignation as a scape-goat, 
 on whose shoulders the political sins of both king and council 
 might be conveniently laid. 
 
 Cromwell was the third great statesman of Henry VIII.'s 
 cabinet, within the brief period of ten years, whose fall is at- 
 tributable to female influence. Wolsey and More were the 
 victims of Anne Boleyn's undisguised animosity, and the in- 
 fluence of Katharine Parr appears to have been equally fatal 
 
1542] KATHARINE PARR. 321 
 
 to Cromwell, although lier consummate prudence in avoiding 
 any demonstration of hostility has prevented her from being 
 recognized as the author of his ruin, save in the records of the 
 house of Throckmorton. 
 
 The execution of the unfortunate queen, Katharine Howard, 
 in February, 1542, preceded the death of Katharine Parr's sec- 
 ond husband, Lord Latimer, about twelve months. The con- 
 version of Katharine to the principles of the reformed religion 
 did not, in all probability, take place till after the decease of 
 Lord Latimer, when, unbiased by the influence of that zealous 
 supporter of the ancient system, she found herself at liberty 
 to listen to the impassioned eloquence of the apostles of the 
 Reformation — men who were daily called upon to testify the 
 sincerity of their profession through tortures and a fiery 
 death. The house of the noble and learned widow soon be- 
 came the resort of such men as Coverdale, Latimer, and Park- 
 hurst ; and sermons were daily preached in her chamber of 
 state by those who were desirous of restoring the practice of 
 the Christian religion to its primitive simplicity. At an early 
 stage of her widowhood she was sought in marriage by Sir 
 Thomas Seymour, the brother of the late Queen Jane, and 
 uncle to the infant heir of England. Sir Thomas Seymour 
 enjoyed the favor of his royal brother-in-law in a liigh degree, 
 and was the handsomest and most admired bachelor of the 
 court. ITow it happened that the learned and devout Lady 
 Latimer should be the one to fix the wandering heart of this 
 gay and reckless gallant, has never been explained. As the 
 Seymours were among the political leaders of the anti-papal 
 party, it is probable that Sir Thomas might be induced to at- 
 tend the religious assemblies that were held at the house of 
 this distinguished lady, till a more powerful interest was ex- 
 cited in his mind by her winning deportment. Be this as it 
 may, it is certain that Katharine had determined to become 
 his wife at that time, if her will had not, for wise purposes, 
 been overruled by a higher power. A more important des- 
 tiny was reserved for her, and while she delayed her xmiou 
 with the man of her heart till a proper interval from the 
 death of her husband should have elapsed, her hand was de- 
 manded by a third widower, in the decline of life, and the 
 father of three children by three different wives. This wid- 
 ower was no other than her sovereign, who had remained in 
 a disconsolate state of gloomy celibacy since the execution of 
 his fifth queen. When Plenry first made known to Katharine 
 that she was the lady whom he intended to honor witli the 
 sixth reversion of his hand, she was struck with dismay. 
 
 O* 
 
322 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1543. 
 
 Fear was not, however, her only objection to becoming the 
 wife of Henry ; love was, for awhile, victorious over ambition 
 in the heart of Katharine. Her aflection for Seymour render- 
 ed her very listless about the royal match at first, but her 
 favored lover presumed not to contest the prize Avith his all- 
 powerful brother-in-law and sovereign. A rival of Henry's 
 temper, who held the heads of wives, kinsmen, and favorites 
 as cheaply as tennis-balls, Avas not to be withstood ; and the 
 bride-elect, accommodating her mind as she best might to the 
 change, prepared to assume, with a good grace, the glittering 
 fetters of a queenly slave. The arrangements for the royal 
 nuptials were made Avith a celerity truly astonishing ; barely 
 three months intervened between the proving of Lord Lati- 
 mer's will, and the day when Katharine exchanged her briefly- 
 Avorn Aveeds of widowhood for the bridal robes of a Queen of 
 England — robes that had proved fatal trappings to four of 
 her five predecessors in the perilous dignity to Avhich it Avas 
 the pleasure of her enamored sovereign to advance her. The 
 nuptials of Henry VHI. and Katharine Parr, instead of being 
 hurried over secretly in an obscure corner, like some unhal- 
 lowed mystery (as Avas the case in his previous marriages 
 Avith Anne Boleyn and Katharine Howard), Avere solemnized 
 much in the same way as royal marriages are in the present 
 times, Avithout pageantry, but Avith all suitable observances. 
 The ceremony Avas performed by Gardiner, Bishop of Win- 
 chester, in the queen's closet at Hampton Court, and the high 
 respect of the monarch for his bride Avas proved by his per- 
 mitting the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth, his daughters, 
 and his niece, the Lady Margaret Douglas, to assist at these 
 nuptials. 
 
 On the day of her marriage, Queen Katharine presented her 
 royal step-daughter and bride-maid, the Princess Mary, Avith a 
 magnificent pair of gold bracelets set Avith rubies, and the yet 
 more acceptable gift in money of 25^. Of course the Priucess 
 Elizabeth, Avho also assisted at the bridal, Avas not forgotten. 
 Katharine Parr had noAV for the third time undertaken the of- 
 fice of a step-mothei' — an oflice at all times of much difficulty 
 and responsibility, but peculiarly so Avith regard to the chil- 
 dren of Henry VIH., Avho were the offspring of queens so 
 fatally opposed as Katharine of Arragon, Anne Boleyn, and 
 Jane Seymour had successively been. Hoav avcII the sound 
 sense and endearing manners of Katharine Parr fitted her to 
 reconcile the rival interests, and to render herself a bond of 
 union between the disjointed links of the royal family, is 
 proved by the affection and respect of her stejD-children, and 
 
1543.] KATHARINE PARR. 323 
 
 also by their letters after King Henry's death. Whether a 
 man wlio had so glaringly violated the duties of a father to liis 
 daughters as Henry had done, deserves any credit for paternal 
 care in his choice of his sixth queen, it would be difficult to 
 say ; but it was scarcely possible for him to have selected a 
 lady better qualified to conduce to the happiness of his children, 
 to improve their minds, and to fit them, by the inculcation of 
 virtuous and noble sentiments, to adorn the high station to 
 which they were born. 
 
 The union of the sovereign with tlie pious and learned *Lady 
 Latimer was the cause of great joy to the University of Cam- 
 bridge, where the doctrines of the Reformation had already 
 taken deep root. The opinions of this erudite body on the 
 subject are eloquently expressed in their congratulatoi-y address 
 to Henry on his marriage. Katharine Parr, while queen-con- 
 sort of England, continued to correspond Avith the University 
 of Cambridge, in the name of which the celebrated Roger As- 
 cham thanks her for her royal benefactions and the suavity of 
 her letters. " Write to us oftener," says the enthusiastic schol- 
 ar, " most learned queen, and do not despise the term erudition, 
 most noble lady ; it is the praise of your industry and a greater 
 one to your talents than all the ornaments of your fortune. 
 We rejoice vehemently in your happiness, most hapjij'^ prin- 
 cess! because you are learning more amid the occupations of 
 your dignity, than many with us do in all our leisure and 
 quiet." 
 
 Queen Katharine's situation at this period was not unlike 
 that of Esther in the house of Ahasuerus. Her attachment to 
 the doctrines of the Reformation naturally rendered her an ob- 
 ject of jealous ill-will to Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, the 
 leader of the anti-papal Henrican party : and as early as the 
 second week after her marriage, this daring ecclesiastic ven- 
 tured to measure his power against that of the royal bride, by 
 an attack on an humble society of reformers at Windsor. 
 Anthony Persons, a priest, John Marbeck, a chorister, Robert 
 Testwood, and Henry Filmer, Avere the leading persons at- 
 tached to this community, but it Avas suspected that they re- 
 ceived encouragement from members of the roj'al household. 
 A few MS. notes on the Bible, and a Latin Concordance in 
 ]5rogress of arrangement, Avhich Avere found in the house of 
 Marbeck, furnished an excuse for the arrest, trial, and con- 
 demnation of himself and his three friends. Nothing coulil 
 induce them to betray any person in the royal household, to 
 save themselves from the fiery death Avith Avhich they were 
 menaced. Marbeck found an intercessor sufficiently powerful 
 
324 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1513. 
 
 and courageous to represent his case to the king. Henry was 
 shown the Latin Concordance, of which several hundred pages 
 were completed. " Poor Marbeck !" exclaimed he, with an 
 unwonted burst of sympathy, "it would be well for ihine ac- 
 cusers if they had employed their time no worse." A reprieve 
 was granted to Marbeck ; but Persons, Testwood, and Filmer 
 were sent to the stake, July 26, two days after their condem- 
 nation. Though the flames of their martyrdom were kindled 
 almost in the sight of Henry's Protestant queen, she Avas un- 
 able to avert the fate of the victims ; and well aware was she 
 that the blow which produced this fell sacrifice of human life 
 was aimed at herself, and would be followed by an attack on 
 persons in her immediate confidence. Such were the scenes 
 that marked the bridal month of Katharine Parr as Queen of 
 England — that month which is generally styled the honey-moon. 
 Her elevation to the dangerous dignity of queen-consort afford- 
 ed her, however, the satisfaction of advancing the fortunes of 
 various members of her own family. She bestowed the ofiice 
 of lord chamberlain on her uncle. Lord Parr of Horton ; she 
 made her sister. Lady Herbert, one of her ladies of the bed- 
 chamber ; and her step-daughter, Margaret Neville, the only 
 daughter of her deceased husband, Lord Latimer, she appoint- 
 ed one of her maids of honor. 
 
 One of the first fruits of Queen Katharine's virtuous in- 
 fluence over the mind of the king Avas, the restoration of his 
 daughters, the persecuted Mary and the young neglected 
 Elizabeth, to their proper rank in the court, and recognition 
 in the order of succession to the crown. The privy-purse ex- 
 penses of the Princess Mary bear evidence of many little in- 
 stances of kindness which she, from time to time, received 
 from her step-mother. When Mary was taken ill, on her jour- 
 ney between Grafton and Woodstock, the queen sent her own 
 litter to convey her to Ampthill, where she was herself resid- 
 ing with the king. On the New Year's Day after her mar- 
 riage. Queen Katharine sent her footman, Jacob, with the 
 present of a cheese to Mary. 
 
 Notwithstanding the great difference in their religious ten- 
 ets, a firm friendship ever subsisted between Katharine Parr 
 and Mary. They were near enough in age to have been sis- 
 ters, they excelled in the same accomplishments, and the great 
 learning and studious pursuits of these royal ladies rendered 
 them suitable companions for each other. The more brilliant 
 talents of the young Elizabeth were drawn forth and fostered 
 under the auspices of her highly gifted step-mother. Katharine 
 Parr took also an active part in directing the studies of the 
 
1543.] KATHARINE PARR. 325 
 
 heir of England, and her approbation appears to have been the 
 greatest encourngenient the prince could receive. In a letter, 
 written in French, to Queen Katharine, Edward notices the 
 beauty of her penmanship. " I thank you," says he, " moat 
 noble and excellent queen, for the letters you have lately sent 
 me, not only for their beauty, but for their imagination ; for 
 when I see your fair writing and the excellence of your genius, 
 greatly surpassing my invention, I am sick of writing. But 
 then I think how kind your nature is, and that whatever pro- 
 ceeds from a good mind and intention will be acceptable : 
 and so I write you this letter." 
 
 A modern author has noticed the great similarity between 
 the handwriting of Edward VI. and Katharine Parr, and 
 from this circumstance it has been conjectured that Katharine 
 superintended the education of one or other of the juvenile 
 members of the royal family, previous to her marriage with 
 King Henry. Certain it is, that after she became queen she 
 took great delight in directing the studies of her royal step- 
 children. It is evident that Edward VI., Queen Elizabeth, 
 and their youthful cousins. Lady Jane and Lady Katharine 
 Gray, all imbibed her taste for classic literature, and her at- 
 tachment to the principles of the Reformation. She induced 
 not only Elizabeth, but Mary, to translate passages from the 
 Scriptures. Each of these princesses compiled a little manual 
 of devotions in Latin, French, and English, dedicated to their 
 accomplished step mother. Queen Katharine's celebrity as a 
 scholar and a theologian, did not render her neglectful of the 
 feminine accomplishment of needlework, in which, notwith- 
 standing her early resistance to its practice, she much delight- 
 ed. Like Henry's first excellent queen, Katharine of Arra- 
 gon, she employed her hours of retirement in embroidering 
 among her ladies. It is said that a portion of the hangings 
 which ornamented the royal apartments of the Tower, before* 
 they were dismantled or destroyed, were the work of this 
 queen ; the only specimens, however, that are now to be 
 found of her skill and industry in this pleasing art, are those 
 preserved at Sizergh Castle. Her taste in dress appears to 
 have been excellent, uniting magnificence of material with 
 simplicity of form. In fact, she enacted the queen with as 
 much royal state and splendor as the loftiest of her predeces- 
 sors. At a grand festival in the palace of Westminster she 
 received the Spanish ambassador: this gr.andee, in his dis- 
 patches home, has described her dress with the zeal of a man- 
 milliner. She wore a kirtle of brocade, and an open robe of 
 cloth of gold ; the sleeves lined with crimson satin, and trim- 
 
32G QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 1544. 
 
 med with three-piled crimson velvet ; the train more than 
 two yards long. Suspended from the neck were two crosses, 
 and a jewel of very rich diamonds; in her head-dress, also, 
 were many rich and beautiful ones. Her girdle was of gold, 
 with very large pendants. 
 
 In the original miniature of this queen, from which the en- 
 graving of her likeness for her biography, in the library edi- 
 tion of the "Lives of the Queens of England," is taken, Kath- 
 arine is represented with very small and delicately marked 
 features, hazel eyes, and golden hair, folded in simple Madon- 
 na bands. Her forehead is lofty and serene, indicative of 
 talent and sprightly wit. She wears a round crimson velvet 
 hood or cap of state, edged with pearls, and surmounted -with 
 a jeweled band of goldsmiths' work set with rubies and pearls, 
 which confines a long black veil, that flows from the back of 
 the head-dress over the shoulders. 
 
 Katharine's celebrated work, the Lamentations of a Sinner, 
 was written after her marriage with the king. This little vol- 
 ume, next to the writings of Sir Thomas More, aftbrds one of 
 the finest specimens of English composition of that era. It is 
 a brief but eloquent treatise on the imperfection of human na- 
 ture in its unassisted state, and the utter vanity of all ^arthly 
 grandeur and distinction. Within the limited compass of 
 about 120 miniature pages, it comprises the elements of almost 
 all the sermons that have been leveled against papal suprem- 
 acy. The royal writer does not forget to compliment King 
 Henry for having emancipated England from this dominion. 
 The most remarkable passage in the book is, perhaps, that in 
 M'hich Katharine deplores her former attachment to the cere- 
 monials of the Church of Rome, some of her biographers hav- 
 ing erroneously asserted that she was brought up in the prin- 
 ciples of the Reformation. The adulation of a woman of su- 
 •perior intellect was necessary to Henry's happiness. Katha- 
 rine presently discovered his weak point, and, by condescend- 
 ing to adapt herself to his humor, acquired considerable influ- 
 ence over his mind. 
 
 Early in the year 1544, King Henry gave indubitable tokens 
 of the favor with which he regarded Queen Katharine, by caus- 
 ing his obedient parliament to settle the royal succession on 
 any children he might have by her, in case of the decease of 
 Prince Edward without issue. Several of the queen-consorts 
 of England have exercised vice-regal power, either by usurpa- 
 tion, or by the consent of the sovereign ; but Katharine Parr 
 was the first and only one on Avhom the style and title of queen- 
 regent was solemnly conferred, and who signed herself as such. 
 
1544 ] KATHARINE PARR. 327 
 
 She entered upon her high office by imploring the Divine pro- 
 tection for her royal husband and his reabn in the following 
 prayer, which she composed for their use : 
 
 " O Almighty King and Lord of Hosts ! who by thy angels thereunto ap- 
 pointed dost minister both war and peace, who didst give unto David both 
 courage and strength, being but a little one, unversed and inexpert in feats 
 of war, witii his sling to set upon and overthrow the great hugh Goliath, 
 our cause now being just, and being enforced to enter into war and battail, 
 we most humbly beseech thee, O Lord God of Hosts, so to turn the hearts of 
 our enemies to the desire of peace, that no Christian blood be spilt. Or else 
 grant, Lord, that, with small effusion of blood and little damage of inno- 
 cents, we may to thy glory obtain victory ; and that the wars being soon 
 ended, we may all, with one heart and mind, knit together in concord and 
 amity, laud and praise Thee, who livest.and reignest world without end. 
 Amen." 
 
 Humility, even to the lowest degree of prostration, pervades 
 Katharine Parr's letters to her formidable consort. She writes 
 to him twice in August, and certifies him that my lord prince 
 and the rest of his children are in good health. The queen 
 was at Hampton Court at that time, where she appears cliiefly 
 to have resided during Henry's absence, though she was not 
 always stationary there. One of her most interesting letters, 
 that to the Princess Mary on the subject of her translations 
 of Erasmus's paraphrases, is dated from Han worth. In the 
 same letter she acknowledges the present of a purse, which 
 her royal step-daughter had made for her. 
 
 During the first month of her regency, Katharine succeeded 
 in restoring Elizabeth to her absent sire's good graces by her 
 epistolary intercessions in her behalf. She had, for some 
 cause, been in deep disgrace with him for a year. Elizabeth 
 wrote an eloquent letter, July 31, 1544, expressing her grate- 
 ful sense of the queen's goodness in having shown much solic- 
 itude about her health, and also for having conveyed her duti- 
 ful messages to the king in all her letters, to Avhom slie had not 
 herself, at that time, ventured to write. Henry VIH., in his 
 letter, dated September 8, sends his blessing to all " our chil- 
 dren," which indicates that he had forgiven Elizabeth. He 
 details with soldier-like plainness, to his fair regent at homo, 
 the auspicious progress of his campaign on the hostile shores 
 of France. Boulogne surrendered to the arms of Henry VIH. 
 after a fierce siege ; he made his triumphant entry into the 
 town September 18. His council in England, by command 
 of the queen-regent, issued a general order, September 19, 
 "that a public thanksgiving should be offered up to Almighty 
 God in all the towns and villages throughout England, for the 
 taking of Boulogne." This was one of the last acts of Queen 
 
328 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1544-1545. 
 
 Katharine Parr's regency, for the king returned to England 
 October 1, finding it impossible to follow up his victorious ca- 
 reer in France, because his Spanish allies had made a separate 
 peace with Francis I. Katharine had governed with such 
 prudence during the brief period in which the sovereign pow- 
 er of the crown had been confided to her administration, as to 
 leave no cause of complaint to either party. On the last day 
 of the year 1544, the Princess Elizabeth wrote from Ashridge 
 to her royal step-mother a long complimentary letter, accom- 
 panying a New Year's gift, which is still in existence: being 
 an autograph translation from the Italian, beautifully written 
 on vellum, in the form of a small quarto, entitled, "The Glasse 
 of the SynnefuU Soule, and addressed to oure Moste Noble and 
 Vertuous Queene Katerin." It is in the religious style of the 
 time, and has occasional strains of true eloquence. The cover, 
 embroidered with blue and silver threads by the hands of the 
 learned young princess, has the queen's initial letters K. R. in- 
 troduced. Thus it appears that Katharine Parr was an Italian 
 as well as a classic scholar and an accomplished mistress of 
 her ow« language, and that she still continued to perform the 
 office of preceptress con amove to Elizabeth. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 With nothing to gain, and every thing to lose by her re- 
 ligion, Katharine courageously maintained the opinions to 
 which she had become a convert ; and, in her zeal for the 
 translation of the Holy Scriptures, left no means untried for 
 the accomplishment of that good work. She appointed Miles 
 Coverdale to the office of her almoner, and rendered him every 
 assistance in his labor of love. The learned Nicholas Udall, 
 master of Eton school, she employed to edit the translations 
 of Erasmus's Paraphrases on the four Gospels; in which the 
 Princess Mary was induced, by her royal step-mother, to take 
 an active share. 
 
 The first editions of these paraphrases (of Avliich so impor- 
 tant a use was afterward made by Cranmer and Somerset) was 
 published 1545, at the sole expense of Queen Katharine Parr. 
 
 When Katharine was first called to the unenviable distinc- 
 tion of sharing the throne of Henry VIIL, the poverty of the 
 crown precluded the king from indulging his love of pomp 
 
1545.] KATHAKINE PARR. 329 
 
 and pageantry in any of the ipuhWc fetes and rejoicings whicli 
 had been so frequent in the first thirty years of bis reign. 
 The expense of a coronation for the new queen was out of the 
 question ; and, though she was dowered in the same propor- 
 tion as her predecessors had been, it must have been a source 
 of comfort to Katharine that she enjoyed a fine income as the 
 widow both of Lord Borough and Lord Latimer, independ- 
 ently of her royal allowance as queen-consort of England. 
 The expenses of the queen's breakfast, on an average calcula- 
 tion, amounted only to lOl. per annum. It was commanded 
 by the lord great-master at Westminster, in the month of June, 
 35th, Henry VIII., that the queen's maids should daily have a 
 chine of beef served to them for breakfast. 
 
 The University of Cambridge, dreading the spoliation with 
 which it was threatened, implored the protection of the learn- 
 ed queen. Katharine, who was not forgetful of the affection 
 and respect which had ever been manifested for her person and 
 character by this erudite body, exerted her utmost influence 
 with her royal husband to avert the storm that impended over 
 that ancient nursery of learning and piety. 
 
 The triumph which Katharine Parr's virtuous influence ob- 
 tained, in this instance, over the sordid passions of Henry and 
 liis greedy ministers, ought to endear the name of the royal 
 patroness of learning to every mind capable of appreciating 
 her magnanimity and moral courage. The beauty, the talents, 
 and rare acquirements of Katharine Parr, together with the 
 delicate tact which taught her how to make the most of those 
 advantages, enabled her to retain her empire over the fickle 
 heart of Henry for a longer period than the fairest and most 
 brilliant of her predecessors. But these charms were not the 
 most powerful talismans with which the queen won her influ- 
 ence. It was her domestic virtues, her patience, her endear- 
 ing manners, that rendered her indispensable to the irritable 
 and diseased voluptuary, who was now paying the severe pen- 
 alty of bodily tortures and mental disquiet for the excesses of 
 his former life. Henry had grown so corpulent and unwieldly 
 in person, that he was incapable of taking the slightest exer- 
 cise, much less of recreating himself with the invigorating field 
 sports and boisterous pastimes in which he had formerly de- 
 lighted. The days had come unexpectedly upon him in which 
 he had no pleasure. His body was so swollen and enfeebled 
 by dropsy, that he could not be moved to an upper chamber 
 without the aid of machinery. Hitherto, the excitement of 
 playing the leading part in the public drama of royal pomp 
 and pageantry had been one of the principal objects of his life; 
 
330 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1546. 
 
 deprived of this, and with the records of an evil conscience to 
 dwell upon in the weary hours of pain, his irascibility and im- 
 patience would have goaded him to frenzy, but for the sooth- 
 ing gentleness and tender attentions of his amiable consort. 
 Katharine was the most skillful and patient of nurses, and 
 shrank not from any office, however humble, whereby she 
 could afibrd mitigation to the sufferings of her royal husband. 
 It is recorded of her, that she would remain for hours on her 
 knees beside him, applying fomentations and other palliatives 
 to his ulcerated leg, which he would not permit any one to 
 dress but her. She had already served an apprenticeship to 
 the infirmities of sickness, in her attendance on the death-beds 
 of her two previous husbands, and had doubtless acquired the 
 art of adapting herself to the humors of male invalids. A roy- 
 ally-born lady might have been of little comfort to Henry in 
 the days of his infirmity, but Katharine Parr had been educa- 
 ted in the school of domestic life, and was perfect in the prac- 
 tice of its virtues and its duties. She sought to charm the 
 ennui which oppressed the once magnificent and active sover- 
 eign in the unwelcome quiet of his sick-chamber, by inducing 
 him to unite with her in directing the studies and watching 
 the hopeful promise of his beloved heir Prince Edward. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 The arrival of the plenipotentiaries to negotiate a peace be- 
 tween England and France in the commencement of the year 
 1546, caused the last gleam of royal festivity and splendor 
 that was ever to enliven the court of Henry VHI. Claude 
 d'Annebaut, the admiral who had a few months previously 
 attempted a hostile descent on the Isle of Wight, and attack- 
 ed the English fleet, was the ambassador-extraordinary on 
 this occasion. King Henry presented Katharine Parr with 
 many jewels of great value, that she might appear with suit- 
 able eclat, as his consort, to the plenipotentiaries of France. 
 He also provided new and costly hangings and furniture for 
 her apartments, as well as plate, which she naturally regarded 
 as her own property ; but a long and vexatious litigation was 
 instituted with regard to these gifts after the death of the 
 king. The increasing influence of Katharine with King Hen- 
 ry, and the ascendancy she was acquiring over the opening 
 
154G.] KATHAKINE PARR. 33I 
 
 mind of his son, the future sovereign, were watched witli 
 jealous alarm by the party most inimical to the doctrines of 
 tile Reformation. Wriothesley, the lord chancellor, who had 
 been the base suggester to Henry VIII. of a breach of faith 
 to Anne of Cleves, and afterward pursued that monarch's 
 fifth unhappy queen, with the zest of a blood-hound, till her 
 young head was laid upon the block, waited but for a suitable 
 opportunity for effecting the fall of Katharine Parr. Gardi- 
 ner, Bishop of Winchester, was his confederate in this inten- 
 tion, but so blameless was the conduct, so irreproachable the 
 maimers, of the queen, that, as in the case of Daniel, it was 
 impossible for her deadliest foe to find an occasion against 
 her, except in the matter of her religious opinions. In these 
 she was opposed to Henry's arbitrary notions, who was en- 
 deavoring to erect the dogma of his own infallibility on the 
 ruins of papacy. Every dissent from his decisions on points 
 of faith had been visited with terrible penalties. 
 
 The most interesting victim of the fierce persecution that 
 ensued, in the spring and summer of 1546, was the young, 
 beautiful, and learned Anne Askew. She was a lady of hon- 
 orable birth and ancient lineage, and having become a convert 
 to the new faith, was for that cause violently driven from, her 
 home by her husband, Mr. Kyme, of Lincolnshire. She then 
 resumed her maiden name, and devoted herself to the promul- 
 gation of the religious opinions she had embraced. It was 
 soon known that the queen's sister, Lady Herbert, the Duch- 
 ess of Suftblk, and other great ladies of the court counte- 
 nanced the fair gospeller, as she was called, nay — more : that 
 the queen herself had received books from her in the pres- 
 ence of Lady Herbert, Lady Tyrwhitt, and the youthful Lady 
 Jane Gray, which might bring her majesty under the penalty 
 of the statute against reading heretical works. The religious 
 opinions of a young and beautiful woman might, perhaps, 
 have been overlooked by men with whom religion was a 
 matter of party, not conscience; but the supposed connection 
 of Aime Askew with tlie queen, caused her to be singled out 
 for the ])urpose of terrifying or torturing her into confessions 
 that might furnish a chai'ge of heresy or treason against her 
 royal mistress. The unexpected firmness of the Christian 
 heroine baffled this design ; she endured the utmost inflictions 
 of Wriothesley's vindictive fury without jiermitting a syllable 
 to pass her lips that might be rendered subservient to this 
 purpose. Anne Askew had been suppoi'ted in prison by 
 jnoney Avhich had been conveyed to her, from time to time, 
 by i^ersons supposed to be in the service of the ladies of the 
 
332 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1546. 
 
 queen's bed-chamber ; and the lord chancellor's inquisitorial 
 cruelty was especially exercised in his attempts to extort 
 from the hapless recipient of this charity the names of her 
 secret friends. It is well known that when Sir Anthony 
 Knevet, the lieutenant of the Tower, endeavored by his di- 
 rections to the jailer to modify the ferocious, and it seems 
 illegal, requisition of Chancellor Wriothesley to inflict severer 
 agonies on the tender, but unshrinking victim, his lordship 
 threw off his gown, and, with the assistance of his pitiless 
 accotnplice Rich, worked the rack till, to use Anne's own 
 words, they well-nigh plucked her joints asunder. 
 
 The terror and anguish which must have oppressed the heart 
 of the queen at this dreadful period may be imagined. Not 
 only was she unable to avert the fate of the generous Anne 
 Askew and the other Protestant martyrs, but she was herself, 
 with some of her nearest and dearest connections, on the verge 
 of the like peril. The queen's sister, Lady Herbert, had been 
 secretly denounced to Henry as an active instrument in con- 
 troverting his edict touching heretical works. This was a sub- 
 tle prelude for an attack upon the queen herself; for when 
 Henry had reason to suppose she received and read l)c)oks for- 
 bidden by his royal statutes, he was prepared to take every 
 diflference in opinion, expressed or insinuated by her, in the 
 light not only of heresy, but treason. Henry's anger was al- 
 ways the most deadly and dangerous when he brooded over an 
 offense in silence. Queen Katharine had been accustomed, in 
 their hours of domestic privacy, to converse with him on the- 
 ological subjects, in which he took great delight. The points 
 of difference in their opinions, and the ready wit and eloquence 
 with which the queen maintained her side of the question, gave 
 piquancy to these discussions. Henry was, at first, amused and 
 interested ; but controversies between husband and wife are 
 dangerous pastimes to the weaker vessel, especially if she 
 chance to have the best of the argument. On subjects of less 
 importance to his eternal welfare, Katharine might possibly 
 have had tact enough to leave the victory to her lord ; but, 
 laboring as she saw him under a complication of incurable 
 maladies, and loaded with a yet more fearful weight of unre- 
 pented crimes, she must have been anxious to awaken him to 
 a sense of his accountability to that Almighty Judge, at whose 
 tribunal it was evident he must soon appear. She was, perhaps, 
 the only person, for the last ten years, who had had the moral 
 courage to speak, even in a modified manner, the language of 
 truth in his presence. Henry was, at last, exceedingly dis- 
 pleased that his queen should j^i'esume to doubt the infallibil- 
 
154G.] KATHARINE PARR. 333 
 
 ity of his opinions. One day she ventured, in the presence of 
 Gardiner, to remonstrate with him on the proclamation he had 
 recently put forth forbidding the use of a translation of the 
 Scriptures, which he liad previously licensed. This was at a 
 time when his constitutional irascibility was aggravated by a 
 painful inflammation of his ulcerated leg, which confined him 
 to his chamber. Perhaps Katharine, in her zeal for the dif- 
 fusion of the truths of Holy Writ, pressed the matter too close- 
 ly, for the king showed tokens of dislike, and cut the matter 
 short. The queen made a few pleasant observations on other 
 subjects, and withdrew. Henry's suppressed choler broke out 
 as soon as she had left the room. " A good hearing it is," 
 said he, " when women become such clerks; and much to my 
 comfort to come, in mine old age, to be taught by my wife !" 
 Gardiner, who was present, availed himself of this scornful 
 sally to insinuate things against her majesty, which a few days 
 before he durst not, for his life, have breathed to the king. 
 But now that an oifense had been given to the royal egotist's 
 self-idolatry, he was ready to listen to any thing that could be 
 said in disparagement of his dutiful and conscientious wife; 
 her tender nursing, her unremitting attentions to his comfort, 
 together with her amiable and affectionate conduct to his chil- 
 dren, were all forgotten. Gardiner flattered him, to the top 
 of his bent, on his theological knowledge and judgment, in 
 which he declared "that his majesty excelled the princes of 
 that and every other age, as well as all the professed doctors 
 of divinity, insomuch that it was unseemly for any of his sub- 
 jects to argue with him so raalpertly as the queen had just 
 done. That it was grievous for any of his counselors to hear 
 it done, since those who were so bold in words, would not 
 scruple to proceed to acts of disobedience ;" adding, " that he 
 could make great discoveries, if he were not deterred by the 
 queen's powerful faction." In short, he and his fellows so 
 filled Henry's mistrustful mind with fears, that he gave them 
 warrant to consult together about drawing of articles against 
 the queen, wherein her life might be touched. 
 
 At this momentous crisis, when the life of the queen might 
 be said to hang on a balance so fearfully poised that the de- 
 scent of a feather would have given it a fatal turn, the bill of 
 articles that had been framed against her, together with the 
 mandate for her arrest, were dropped by Wriothesley from his 
 bosom in the gallery at Whitehall, after the royal signature of 
 the king had been affixed. Fortunately it happened that it 
 Avas picked up by one of the attendants of the queen, and in- 
 stantly conveyed to her majesty, whose sweetness of temper 
 
334 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1546. 
 
 and gracious demeanor had endeared her to all the household. 
 It is impossible but that shuddering recollections of the fell 
 decree which doomed Henry's second consort, Anne Boleyn, 
 to be either burned or beheaded, at the king's pleasure, and of 
 the summary proceedings by which his last queen, Katharine 
 Howard, was hurried to the block, without even the ceremo- 
 ny of a trial, must have pressed upon her mind, as she glanced 
 at the appalling document. Her virtue, it is true, could not 
 be impugned as theirs had been, but she had disappointed the 
 expectation confidently stated by the king in the act for set- 
 tling the succession to the crown, " that their union might be 
 blessed with ofl:*spring." 
 
 When Katharine Parr became aware from the perusal of 
 the paper so providentially brought to her, that a bill for her 
 attainder was prepared, and saw that the king had treacher- 
 ously given his sanction to the machinations of her foes, she 
 concluded that she was to be added to the list of his conjugal 
 decapitations, and fell into an hysterical agony. She occu- 
 pied an apartment contiguous to that of the sick and froward 
 monarch, and as she fell from one fit into another, her shrieks 
 and cries reached his ears. Finding they continued for many 
 hours, he sent to inquire Avhat was the matter. Katharine's 
 physician. Dr. Wendy, informed the royal messenger " that the 
 queen was dangerously ill, and that it appeared that her sick- 
 ness was caused by distress of mind." When the king heard 
 this, he was either moved with unwonted feelings of compunc-. 
 tion, or reminded, by his own increased infirmities, which had 
 confined him for the last two days to his bed, of her unrivaled 
 skill as a nurse ; and feeling, perhaps for the first time, how 
 much he should miss her in that capacity if death deprived 
 him of her services, he determined to pay her a visit. This 
 act of royal condescension was the more remarkable, because 
 it was attended with great personal inconvenience to himself, 
 for he was carried in a chair into Queen Katharine's apart- 
 ment, being at that time unable to walk. He found her heavy 
 and melancholy, and apparently at the point of death, at which 
 he evinced much sj^mpathy, as if really alarmed at the idea of 
 losing her. She testified a proper degree of gratitude for the 
 honor of his visit, " which," she assured him, " had greatly re- 
 vived and rejoiced her." She also expressed herself much dis- 
 tressed at having seen so little of his majesty of late, adding, 
 that her uneasiness at this was increased by her apprehensions 
 of having been so unhappy as to have given him some unin- 
 tentional offense. Henry replied only with gracious and en- 
 couraging expressions of his good-will. During the rest of 
 
15i6.] KATHAEINE PARR. 335 
 
 this interview, Katharine behaved in so liumble and endearing 
 a manner, and so completely adapted herself to the humor of 
 her imperious lord, that, in the excitement caused by the re- 
 action of his feelings, he betrayed to her physician the secret 
 of the plot against her life. The physician being both a good 
 and a prudent person, acted as a mediator with his sovereign 
 in the first instance, and is said to have suggested to the queen 
 the proper means of effecting a reconciliation. The next even- 
 ing the queen found herself well enough to return the king's 
 visit in his bed-chamber. She came attended by her sister, 
 Lady Herbert, and the king's young niece, Lady Jane Gray, 
 who carried the candles before her majesty. Henry welcomed 
 her very courteously, and appeared to take her attention in 
 good part, but presently turned the conversation to the old 
 subject of controversy, for the purpose of beguiling her into 
 an argument. Katharine adroitly avoided the snare, by ob- 
 serving " that she was but a woman, accompanied with all the 
 imperfections natural to the weakness of her sex ; therefore, 
 in all matters of doubt and difficulty, she must refer herself to 
 his majesty's better judgment, as to her lord and head ; for so 
 God hath appointed you," continued she, " as the supreme head 
 of us all, and of you, next unto God, will I ever learn." — " Not 
 so, by Sf. Mary !" said the king. " Ye are become a doctor, 
 Kate, to instruct us, and not to be instructed of us, as oftentime 
 we have seen." — "Ladeed," replied the queen, "if your majes- 
 ty have so conceived, my meaning has been mistaken, for I 
 have always held it preposterous for a woman to instruct her 
 lord ; and if I have ever presumed to differ from your highness 
 on religion, it Avas partly to obtain information for my own 
 comfort, regarding certain nice points on which I stood in 
 doubt, and sometimes because I perceived that, in talking, you 
 were better able to pass away the pain and weariness of your 
 present infirmity, which encouraged me to this boldness, in the 
 hope of profiting withal- by your majesty's learned discourse." 
 — " And is it so, sweetheart ?" replied the king ; " then we are 
 perfect friends." He then kissed her with much tendei-ness, 
 and gave her leave to depart. 
 
 On the day appointed for her arrest, the king, being con- 
 valescent, sent for the queen to take the air Avith him in the 
 garden. Katharine came, attended, as before, by her sister 
 Lady Herbert, Lady Jane Gray, and Lady Tyrwhitt, her step- 
 daughter. Presently the Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, with 
 forty of the guard, entered the garden, with the expectation 
 of carrying oft' the queen to the Tower, for not the slightest 
 intimation had reached him of the change in the royal caprice. 
 
'336 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [154G. 
 
 The king received him with a burst of inclignation, sahited 
 liini with the unexpected address of " Beast ! fool ! and knave !" 
 and, sternly withdrawing him from the vicinity of the queen, 
 lie bade him " avaunt from his presence," Katharine, when 
 she saw the king so greatly incensed with the chancellor, had 
 the magnanimity to intercede for her foe, saying, "She would 
 become a humble suitor for him, as she deemed his fault was 
 occasioned by mistake." — " Ah, poor soul !" said the king. 
 "Thou little knowest, Kate, how evil he deserveth this grace 
 at thy hands. On ray word, sweetheart, he hath been to 
 thee a very knave !" 
 
 Katliarine Parr treated the authors of the cruel conspiracy 
 against her life with the magnanimity of a great mind, and the 
 forbearance of a true Christian. She sought no vengeance, 
 although the reaction of the king's uxorious fondness would 
 undoubtedly have given her the power of destroying them if 
 she had been of a vindictive temper ; but though Henry was in- 
 duced, through the intercession of Katharine, to overlook the 
 offense of Wriothesley, he never forgave Gardiner the part he 
 had taken in this affair, which proved no less a political blun- 
 der than a moral crime. 
 
 Katharine Parr, though she had labored, at the peril of be- 
 ing sent to the scaffold, to obtain toleration and liberty of con- 
 science for those of her own religion, had hitherto carefully 
 abstained from implicating herself with the intrigues of either 
 party. Now she naturally threw the weight of her quiet in- 
 fluence into the scale of those who supported the doctrine of 
 the Reformation. 
 
 When the physicians announced to those in attendance on 
 the sovereign that the hour of his departure was at hand, they 
 shrank from the peril of incurring the last ebullition of his vin- 
 dictive temper by warning him of the awful change that 
 awaited him. The queen, worn out with days and nights of 
 fatiguing personal attendance on her wayward lord, during the 
 burning fever which had preyed upon him for more thnn two 
 7uonths, was in all probability unequal to the trial of witness- 
 ing the last fearful scene, for she is not mentioned as having 
 been present on that occasion. 
 
 Sir Anthony Denny was the only person wdio had the cour- 
 age to inform the king of his real state. He approached the 
 bed, and leaning over it, told him " that all human aid was now 
 vain ; and that it was meet for him to review his past life, and 
 seek for God's mercy through Christ." Henry, who was 
 uttering loud cries of pain and impatience, regarded hini with 
 a stern look, and asked, " What judge had sent him to pass 
 
1546-7.] KATHARINE PARR. 337 
 
 this sentence upon him ?" Denny replied, " Your physicians." 
 When these ])hysicians next approached the royal patient to 
 oflfer him medicine, he repelled them in these words : " After 
 the judges have once passed sentence on a criminal, they have 
 no more to do with Iiim ; therefore begone !" It was then 
 suggested that he should confer with some of his divines. "J 
 will see no one but Crannier," replied the king, " and not him 
 as yet. Let me repose a little, and as I find myself so shall I 
 determine." After an hour's sleep he awoke, and becoming 
 faint, commanded that Cranmer, who had withdrawn to Croy- 
 don, should be sent for with all haste. But the precious inter- 
 val had been wasted, and before the archbishop entered Hen- 
 ry was speechless. Cramiier besought him to testify by some 
 sign his hope in the saving mercy of Christ ; the king regard- 
 ed him steadily for a moment, wrung his hand, and expired. 
 Ilenry VIII. expired at two o'clock in the morning of Janua- 
 ry 28, 1546-7, at his royal palace of Westminster, in the tliirty- 
 eighth year of his reign, and the fifty-sixth of his age. In his 
 will Ilenry places the children he may have by his queen 
 Katharine Parr in the order of succession immediately after 
 his only son, Prince Edward, giving them precedency of the 
 Princesses Mary and Elizabeth. If, therefore, the queen had 
 borne a posthumous daughter to Ilenry, a civil war would un- 
 questionably have been the result. The words are — 
 
 "And per default of lawful issue of our son Prince Edward, we will that 
 the said imperial crown, and other the premises, after our two deceases, shall 
 fully remain and come to the heirs of our entirely beloved wife Queen Katha- 
 rine that now is, or of any other our lawful wife that we shall hereafter marry." 
 
 The last sentence seems ominous enough to the childless queen, 
 implying that Henry meant to survive her, and was seriously 
 providing for the contingency of his issue by a seventh queen. 
 The preamble to the legacy he bequeaths to Katharine Parr 
 contains, however, a very high testimony to her virtues : 
 
 " And for the great love, obedience, chastity of life, and wisdom beinp in 
 our wife and queen, we bequeath unto her for her proper life, and as it shall 
 please her to order it, three thousand pounds in ]3late, jewels, and stuff of 
 household goods, and such apparel as it shall please her to take of such as 
 we have already. And farther, we give unto her one thousand pounds in 
 money, and the amount of her dower and jointure according to our grant in 
 Parliament." 
 
 This legacy, when the relative value of money is considered, 
 as well as the destitution of the exchequer at tlie time, will 
 not be thought so inadequate a bequest as it ap])ears. Katha- 
 rine Parr was amply dowered by Parliament, and by the king's 
 patents ; and she had two dowers besides, as the widow of 
 
 P 
 
338 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1547. 
 
 the Lords Borough and Latimer. She was supposed to have 
 made great savmgs while she was queen-consort. After the 
 death of the king, slie received all the honors due to his ac- 
 knowledged widow — he left two, be it remembered ; but she 
 was prayed for as queen-dowager in the presence of the young 
 king, by her old enemy Gardiner, in the following prayer for 
 the royal family : " I commend to God Queen Katharine, 
 dowager, my Lady Mary's grace, and my Lady Elizabeth's 
 grace, your majesty's dear sisters." Edward VI. Avrote a 
 Latin letter of condolence to his widowed step-mother, calling 
 her his dear mother, and concluding, " Farewell, venerated 
 queen." 
 
 George (Gold) Noble. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 During the brief period of her royal widowhood, Katha- 
 rine Parr, now queen-dowager, resided at her fine jointure- 
 house at Chelsea, on the banks of the Thames, which, with its 
 beautiful and extensive gardens, occupied the pleasant spot 
 now called Cheyne Pier. Sir Thomas Seymour renewed his 
 addresses to Katharine so immediately after King Henry's 
 death, that she was wooed and won almost before she had as- 
 sumed the widow's hood and barb, and sweeping sable pall, 
 which marked the relict of the departed majesty of England. 
 Seymour had opportunities of confidential communication with 
 the wddowed queen even before the funeral of the royal rival 
 for whom she had been compelled to resign him when Lady 
 Latimer; for he was a member of the late king's household, 
 and had been appointed by Henry's will one of the council of 
 regency during the minority of the yoiuig king. His person 
 and characteristics are thus described by Hayward : " The 
 
1547.] KATHARINE PARR. 339 
 
 Lord Sudely (he had been elevated to that title by his nephew, 
 Edward VI.) was fierce in courage, courtly in fashion, in 
 personage stately, in voice magnificent, but somewha* empty 
 in matter." lie was still in the prime of life, and possessed 
 of the peculiar manners calculated to charpi the softer sex. 
 Though he had made more than one attempt to secure a 
 splendid alliance, he had the art to make the queen-dowager 
 believe that he was still a bachelor for her sake. Katharine, 
 after having been the wife of three mature widowers in suc- 
 cession, to the last of whom that joyless bauble, a crown, had 
 tricked her into three years, six months, and fourteen days of 
 worse than Egyptian bondage, found herself, in her thirty-fifth 
 year, still handsome, and apparently more passionately beloved 
 than ever by the man of her heart. 
 
 Thirty-four days after Henry's death, a written contract of 
 marriage and rings of betrothal were exchanged between 
 Katharine and Sir Thomas Seymour, but the nuptials were not 
 solemnized till some months later. According to Edward 
 VI.'s journal this event took place in May, but it was certain- 
 ly not made public till the end of June. Great censure has 
 been passed on Queen Katharine for contracting matrimony 
 again so soon after the death of her royal husband. But she 
 owed neither love nor reverence to the memory of a consort 
 who had held a sword suspended over her by a single hair for 
 the last six months of their union ; and Henry himself had 
 previously led her into a similar breach, of widowly decorum, 
 by inducing her to become his wife within almost as brief a 
 period after the death of her second husband. Lord Latimer, 
 as her marriage with Seymour after his own. In the latter 
 end of May, Queen Katharine was sojourning at St. Jaeies's 
 Palace for a few days, and while there, she wrote the young 
 king a Latin letter on the subject of her great love for his late 
 father, Henry VIII. This was rather an extraordinary sub- 
 ject for the royal dowager to dilate upon, since she was at the 
 very time married to Seymour. She added to her letter many 
 quotations from Scripture, and expressed an earnest desire 
 that the young monarch would answer the epistle, which he 
 did, in the same learned language. The artless young sov- 
 ereign was, in the end, not only induced to recommend his 
 wily uncle to his widowed step-mother for a husband, but led 
 to believe that it was actually a match of his own making. 
 King Edward, in his journal, notices the anger of the lord 
 protector at the marriage of the admiral with the queen-dow- 
 ager. Somerset and his council loudly condemned the pre- 
 sumption of the audacious Seymoui', in daring to contract this 
 
340 QUEENS OF ENGLAlifD. [1547. 
 
 lofty alliance without leave or license of those who exercised 
 the authority of the crown. They did what they could to 
 testify Iheh" hostility, by withholding from Queen Katharine 
 all the jewels that had been presented to her by the late king, 
 under the pretext that they were not her personal property, 
 but heir-looms to the crown. 
 
 Somerset is supposed to have been excited to injurious treat- 
 ment of the widow of his royal master and benefactoi*, Henry 
 VIII., by the malice of his duchess, who had always borne 
 envious ill-will against Katharine Parr. Open hostility be- 
 tween them broke out after the marriage of Katharine with 
 the admiral, in consequence of the Duchess of Somerset refus- 
 ing any longer to fulfill her office of bearing up the train of 
 the queen-dowager, alleging, " that it was misuitable for her 
 to submit to perform that service for the wife of her husband's 
 younger brother." According to Lloyd, " the duchess not 
 only refused to bear up the queen's train, but actually jostled 
 with her for precedence; so that," continues he, quaintly, 
 " what between the train of the queen, and the long gown of 
 the duchess, they raised so much dust at court, as at last put 
 out the eyes of both their husbands, and caused their exe- 
 cutions." The pretense on which the Duchess of Somerset 
 grounded her presumptuous dispute for precedency with the 
 queen-dowager in the court of Edward VI. was, that as the 
 wife of the protector and guardian of the realm, she had a 
 right to take place of every lady in England. It is possible 
 that, with the exception of the ladies of the royal family, she 
 might ; but the act of Henry VIII., wliereby it was provided 
 that Anne of Cleves should take precedence after his queen 
 and the princesses his daughters, of every other lady in the 
 realm, settled the matter of Katharine Parr's precedency be- 
 yond contravention ; and the arrogant duchess was compelled 
 to yield, but never forgave the mortification. 
 
 The tender affection which the young king lavished on the 
 queen-dowager, and his reverence for her talents, virtue, and 
 piety, excited the jealousy and ill-will, not only of the Duch- 
 ess of Somerset, but of her husband also, and the vulgar in- 
 solence of the former was systematically exerted to keep so 
 powerful a rival from the court. The king was certainly far 
 more attached to his uncle, Thomas Seymour, than to the 
 protector, and Katharine Parr had always been to him in the 
 place of the mother whom he had never known, Edward's 
 practice of coming by the private entrance unattended into 
 Queen Katharine's apartments, where no official spies could 
 intrude to witness and report what passed between him and 
 
1548.] KATHARINE PARR. 341 
 
 the admiral, caused great uneasiness to the protector and liis 
 party. Edward's best loved sister, Elizabeth, and his accom- 
 plished cousin, Lady Jane Gray, were in the interest of the 
 admiral, both being pupils of Queen Katharine, and residing 
 under her roof. 
 
 When Queen Katharine had been the wife of her beloved 
 Seymour some months, there was a prospect of her becoming 
 a mother. Her raptures at the anticipation of a blessing 
 which had been denied to all her other marriages, carried her 
 beyond the bounds of discretion ; her husband was no less 
 ^ transported than herself: the feelings of paternity with them 
 amounted to passion. The queen was then at Hanworth, one 
 of the royal manors belonging to her dower, from whence 
 Seymour escorted her to his principal baronial residence, 
 Sudely Castle. 
 
 The residence of the Princess Elizabeth under their roof 
 was fatal to the wedded happiness of Seymour and Katharine. 
 The queen, forgetful that a blooming girl in her fifteenth year 
 Avas no longer a child, had imprudently encouraged the ad- 
 miral to romp with her royal step-daughter in her presence. 
 Afterward, when she found her husband took improper lib- 
 erties with the princess in her absence, she was displeased 
 with both, and very sharplj' reproved the princess's governess 
 for her neglect of her duty to her royal pupil, in permitting 
 her to fall into such reprehensible freedom of behavior. Con- 
 jugal jealousy apart, Katharine Parr had great cause for angei* 
 and alarm ; for the princess was under her especial care, and 
 if aught but good befell her at the tender age of fifteen, great 
 blame would, of course, attach to herself. She saw, indeed, 
 the expediency of separating her household from that of the 
 princess, and acted upon it without delay. There is no reason 
 to believe that she cherished vindictive feelings against Eliza- 
 beth, for she continued to correspond with her in a friendly 
 manner. 
 
 Queen Katharine had a princely retinue in attendance upon 
 her, in her retirement at Sudely Castle, of ladies in waiting, 
 maids of honor, and gentlewomen in ordinaiy, besides the ap- 
 pointments for her expected nursery and lying-in chamber, 
 and more than a hundred and twenty gentlemen of her house- 
 hold, and yeomen of the guard. She had several of the most 
 learned men among the lights of the Reformation for her 
 chaplains, and she caused divine worship to be performed 
 twice a day, or oftener, in her house, notwithstanding the 
 distaste of the admiral, who not only refused to attend these 
 devotional exercises himself, but proved a great let and hin- 
 
342 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1548. 
 
 drance to all the pious regulations his royal consort strove 
 to establish. 
 
 At Sudely Castle Katharine Parr gave birth, August 30, 
 1548, to the infant whose appearance had been so fondly 
 anticipated both by Seymour and herself. It was a girl, and 
 though both parents had confidently expected a boy, no dis- 
 appointment was expressed. On the contrary, Seymour, in a 
 transport of paternal pride, wrote an eloquent description of 
 the beauty of the new-born child to his brother the Duke of 
 Somerset. 
 
 The charge of the admiral having caused the death of 
 Queen Katharine by poison can only be regarded as the fab- 
 rication of his enemies. On the contrary, his manner toward 
 her, when she was evidently snifering under the grievous irri- 
 tability of mind and body incidental to puerperal fever, ap- 
 pears from the deposition of Katharine's step-daughter, Lady 
 Tyrwhitt, one of the most faithful and attached of her ladies, 
 to have been soothing and affectionate. 
 
 Wild and gloomy fantasies liad superseded the first sweet 
 gushings of maternal love in Katharine's bosom, and she ap- 
 peared unconscious of the existence of the babe she had so 
 fondly anticipated. She exerted herself to dictate her will, 
 which is still extant in the Prerogative office; it is dated 
 September 5, 1548, and it is to the following effect: "That 
 she, then lying on her death-bed, sick of body, but of good 
 mind, and perfect memory and discretion, and pei'ceiving the 
 extremity of death to approach her, leaves all to her husband." 
 The witnesses are two well known historical characters, 
 
 Robert Hutck, M.D., 
 
 and 
 
 John Parkhurst, 
 
 persons of high reputation and even sacred authority in a 
 sick-chamber, being her physician and chaplain ; the latter be- 
 came subsequently a bishop of the Reformed Church, highly 
 distinguished for his Christian virtues. In after life, Park- 
 hurst always mentioned Katharine Parr with great regard, as 
 his " most gentle mistress." She was only in the thirty-sixth 
 year of her age, having sui'vived her royal husband, Henry 
 VIII., but one year, six months, and eight days. Lady Jane 
 Gray, who was with Queen Katharine at Sudely Castle at the 
 time of her death, officiated at her funeral solemnity as chief 
 mourner. The limits of this work will not admit of detailing 
 the particulars of the intrigues which led to the fall of the lord 
 admiral. Suffice it to say, that he had organized measures for 
 
1549.] KATHARINE PARR. 343 
 
 supplanting his elder brother, the Duke of Somerset, in the of- 
 fice of guardian to King Edward. The youthful majesty of 
 England was actually brought before his own council, to be 
 made a witness against his best beloved uncle for the purpose 
 of bringing him to the block. 
 
 Bishop Latimer accused Lord Thomas Seymour, that when 
 Queen Katharine, his wife, had daily prayer morning and aft- 
 ernoon in his house, he would get him out of the way, and 
 was a contemner of the Common Prayer. Lord Seymour was 
 beheaded on Tower Hill, March 20, 1549. There was only an 
 interval of two years, one month, and three weeks between 
 the death of Katharine's third husband. King Henry VIH., 
 and the execution of her fourth, who survived her just six 
 months and fourteen days. The child of Queen Katharine 
 and Lord Seymour was named Mary, She ought to have 
 been the heiress of great wealth, and even if the act of attain- 
 der which had been passed on her father operated to deprive 
 her of the broad lands of Sudely and the rest of his posses- 
 sions, she was fully entitled to inherit the large fortune of the 
 queen-dowager, her mother, if she had had friends to assert 
 her rights. She remained a little Avhile at, her uncle Somer- 
 set's house at Sion ; and then, according to her father's dying 
 request, was conveyed to Grimsthorpe in Lincolnshire, where 
 Katharine, dowager-duchess of Suffolk, lived. There she was 
 brought, with her governess, Mrs. Aglionby, her nurse, two 
 maids, and other servants. 
 
 It is stated that the only child of the admiral Lord Thomas 
 Seymour by Queen Katharine Parr died in her thirteenth year. 
 She, however, lived to be a wife and mother. The traditions 
 and papers of her last descendant prove that the Duchess of 
 Suffolk provided for her by marrying her to Sir Edward 
 Bushel. 
 
 The splendid chapel at Sudely, where Queen Katharine was 
 interred, was desecrated and unroofed by Cromwell's soldiers, 
 who wantonly destroyed the tomb and effigies of our first 
 Protestant queen. 
 
 Her body was discovered in its leaden envelope by some 
 ladies, in May, 1'782, in perfect preservation. 
 
 Sudely Chapel, and Queen Katharine Parr's monument, have 
 been splendidly restored by the present munificent possessor 
 of Sudely Castle, John Coucher Dent, Esq., in a style of mag- 
 nificence which would astonish the original founders. A con- 
 siderable portion of Sudely Castle has also been*restored. 
 
344 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1516. 
 
 Queen Mary. From a painting by Holbein. 
 
 MARY, 
 
 FIRST QUEEN REGNANT OF ENGLAND AND IRELAND. 
 
 Mary, our first queen-regnant, was the only surviving child 
 of Henry VIII. and Katharine of Arragon ; she first saw the 
 light on the banks of the Thames, at Greenwich Palace, Feb- 
 ruary 18, 1515-6. The princess was baptized, the third day 
 after her birth, at the Grey Friars' Church, adjacent to Green- 
 wich Palace. The infant was carried by the Countess of Salis- 
 bury ; Cardinal Wolsey was her godfather ; her godmothers 
 were the Princess Katharine Plantagenet and the Duchess of 
 Norfolk. She was named Maiy, after the favorite sister of 
 Henry VIII. Various rich presents were bestowed on the 
 
i522.] MARY. 345 
 
 princess by her sponsors and relatives. Cardinal Wolscy gave 
 a gold cup ; her aunt, Mary Tudor, gave a pomander of gold ; 
 the Princess Katharine a gold spoon ; and the Duchess of Nor- 
 folk presented a primer, richly illuminated, Mary was reared, 
 till she was weaned, in the apartments of the queen her moth- 
 er, and the first rudiments of her education were commenced 
 by that tender parent as soon as she could speak. The nursery 
 establishment of the princess was occasionally stationed at 
 Ditton Park, in Buckinghamshire. The care of her person 
 was consigned to Lady Margaret Bryan, who superintended 
 the temperate meals of the royal infant, which consisted of 
 one dish of meat with bread. The Countess of Salisbury was 
 state governess and head of her household. Han worth was 
 one of the earliest residences of the princess's childhood, but 
 wliile her parents were absent in France, at the celebrated 
 "Held of cloth of gold," she kept court in royal state at their 
 palace of Richmond. Here the privy council frequently visited 
 her. By the order of the king the royal child, only three 
 years old, had to greet some foreign guests sent by her father, 
 and to amuse them by playing on the virginals. The infant 
 performer must have been exceedingly docile and well trained, 
 not only- to receive strangers, but to play her tunes when re- 
 quired. The privy council sent minutes to the king and queen 
 of her tractable behavior. 
 
 When her royal parents returned to England, Mary went 
 back to her nursery at Ditton Park, but she made a long visit 
 to the king and queen at Greenwich the succeeding Christmas, 
 She was a very lovely infant, her complexion rosy, her eyes 
 brown, and " right merry and joyous." The king, who was 
 passionately fond of children, would not part from her till aft- 
 er her fourth birthday. The little princess was amused by 
 the performance of a company of children, who acted plays ; 
 6s. 8d. was given to a man who managed the little actors, 
 Hey wood by name. 
 
 In her sixth year Mary was betrothed to Charles V. He 
 passed five weeks in England ; the little princess became well 
 acquainted with him, and learned, young as she was, to con- 
 sider herself as his empress. The care of Mary's excellent 
 mother was now sedulously directed to give her child an educa- 
 tion that would render her a fitting companion to the greatest 
 sovereign of modern history, not only in regard to extent of 
 dominions, but in character and attainments. Dr. Linacre 
 wrote a Latin grammar for her use. 
 
 Queen Katharine requested Ludovicus Vives, a Spaniard of 
 
 great learning, to draw up a code of instructions for the edu- 
 
 p * 
 
346 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1525. 
 
 cation of Mary. He sent a treatise in Latin, from Bruges, 
 dedicated to the queen, whom he thus addresses: "Govern 
 by these my monitions Maria thy daughter, and she will be 
 formed by them; she will resemble thy domestic example of 
 probity and wisdom." His rules are rigid : he directs that the 
 young princess may read no idle books of chivalry. He de- 
 sires that she may read the Gospels night and morning, se- 
 lected portions of the Old Testament, likewise Plato, Seneca, 
 Plutarch, the Paraphrases of Erasmus, and the Utopia of Sir 
 Thomas More. Among the classic poets he admitted the 
 Pharsalia of Lucan and the tragedies of Seneca. He deemed 
 cards, dice, and splendid dress as improper as romances. He 
 gave rules for her pronunciation of Greek and Latin, and ad- 
 vised that lessons from these languages should be committed 
 to memory every day, and read over two or three times be- 
 fore the pupil went to bed. He recommended that the prin- 
 cess should render English into Latin frequently, and likewise 
 that she should converse with her preceptor in that language. 
 
 In 1525 rumors reached England that the emperor meant 
 to forsake Mary, for a grown-up pi'incess. This was probably 
 the first sorrow experienced by the child Mary, who grew 
 pale with jealousy when this mai-riage was discussed. She 
 sent the emperor an emerald ring from one of her small fin- 
 gers to remind him of his troth. Nevertheless, he wedded 
 Isabel of Portugal. Henry VIII. immediately declared Mary 
 the heiress-apparent of England, establishing for her a court 
 at Ludlow, whither she went, 1525. Sir John Dudley — whose 
 ambition afterward made him so prominent a character as 
 Duke of Northumberland in the next reign — was appointed 
 chamberlain to the Princess Mary at her new court. Mary 
 took leave of her parents at the palace of Langley, in Hert- 
 fordshire, in September, 1525, previous to her departure for 
 Ludlow Castle. Mary was withdrawn from her court at Lud- 
 low Castle to I'eceive the French ambassadors, who had arrived 
 for the purpose of negotiating her marriage with the second 
 son of France. Many notices exist of her participation in the 
 revelry of her father's court ; where she appeared not only as 
 the partner of her royal sire in the stately pavon (or minuet 
 of that era), but as a dancer in court ballets, and performer in 
 comedies — no slight infringement of the rigid rules prescribed 
 for her education by Ludovicus Vives. 
 
 An utter silence is maintained, alike in public history and 
 state documents, regarding that agonizing moment when the 
 Princess Mary was torn from the arms of her unfortunate 
 mother, to behold her no more. No witness has told the part- 
 
1533-1534.] MARY. 347 
 
 ing, no pen has described it; but sad and dolorous it certainly 
 was to the hapless girl, even to the destruction of health. But 
 her troubles had not yet reached their climax ; for Lady Salis- 
 bury, the friend next her mother dearest to her heart, still re- 
 sided with her. The year 1533 brought many trials to the 
 unfortunate mother and daughter, who were cruelly kept from 
 the society of each other. Cranmer pronounced the marriage 
 of Queen Katharine invalid, the king proclaimed his marriage 
 Avith Anne Boleyn, and the coronation .of the rival queen took 
 place. Before the end of September, the privy council sent 
 orders to Mary, who had then returned to Beaulieu, that she 
 was immediately to lay aside the name and dignity of prin- 
 cess ; tyrannically enjoining her to forbid her servants to ad- 
 dress her as such, and to withdraw directly to Hatfield, where 
 the nursery of her infant sister was about to be established. 
 Mary totally refused obedience, and forwarded a letter to the 
 privy council, in which she sustained the high tone of a royal 
 lady whose rights of succession were illegally invaded. The 
 king took decided measures to dissolve the household of his 
 daughter at Beaulieu, by sending the Duke of Norfolk, and 
 his almoner, Bishop Fox, "to deal with her," while the Duke 
 of Suftblk and others of the council were breaking up her 
 mother's establishment at Bugden. In the midst of these 
 troubles Mary's cousin-german, James V., King of Scotland, 
 solicited her hand, but was refused peremptorily, lest such 
 marriage should interfere with the title of Anne Boleyn's 
 issue. 
 
 The degradation of the Princess Mary was rendered legal in 
 the beginning of 1534, when the houses of Parliament passed 
 an act, settling the crown on the king's heirs by Queen Anne, 
 whether male or female. Mary's household at Beaulieu — a 
 princely establishment — was finally dismissed. The unfortu- 
 nate princess was severed from those to whose society she had 
 been accustomed during her childhood ; worst of all, she was 
 torn from her venerable relative, Margai'et, Countess of Salis- 
 bury, by whose arms she had been encircled in the first days 
 of her existence. When separated from this maternal friend, 
 she was transferred to the nursery palace where the infant 
 Elizabeth was established, with a magnificent household befit- 
 ting the rank of which Mary had just been deprived. In this 
 residence Mary was located, more like a bondmaiden than a 
 sister of the acknowledged heiress of the realm. Anne Boleyn 
 was not satisfied unless the fallen pi'incess drew hourly com- 
 parisons between her lot and that of the sister who had sup- 
 planted her. But the heart of Mary was as yet unscathed by 
 
348 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1535-153G. 
 
 the corrosion of hatred ; instead of detesting her rival sister, 
 she amused her sorrows with the playful wiles of the infant, 
 and regarded her with kindness. Two melancholy years Mary 
 spent under the surveillance of her step-mother, in sorrow and 
 suttering. The few friends who dared visit her were subject- 
 ed to the severest espionage ; their words were malignantly 
 scrutinized. The papers of the princess were put under the 
 royal seal ; and if she was allowed to read, she certainly w%as 
 not permitted to write ; since, in one of her letters, she apol- 
 ogizes for " her evil writing, because she had not written a let- 
 ter for two years." Her tather muttered murderous threats 
 against her ; and his words were eagerly caught and re-echoed 
 by those members of his council whose wdiole study it was to 
 flatter his willful wishes, however wicked they iniglit be. 
 Dark indeed were the anticipations throughout Europe regard- 
 ing the future destiny, both of the unfortunate daughter and 
 the queen her motlier, during 1535. The next year opened 
 with the death of that tender mother — a dismal aggravation 
 of Mary's bitter lot. 
 
 When all looked the darkest a change took place in Mary's 
 fortunes. Her step-mother Queen Anne Boleyn's fall took 
 place May Day, 1536. The wrongs inflicted on Mary proved 
 to be the chief weight on the conscience of Anne Boleyn ; for, 
 the day before her tragical death, after placing Lady Kingston 
 in the royal seat as the representative of Mary, she fell on her 
 knees before her, and implored her to ask, in her name, pardon 
 of the princess for all the wrongs she had heaped upon her 
 while in possession of a step-dame's authority. Lady Kingston 
 went to Hunsdon on this errand, a few days after the execu- 
 tion of Queen Anne. Some kind of friendly acquaintance had 
 previously subsisted between the new Queen Jane Seymour 
 and Mary, while the former was maid of honor, on which 
 Mary requested her intercession with the king. When Lady 
 Kingston arrived at Hunsdon to deliver the message of the 
 unfortunate Anne Boleyn, Mary found that the interdict against 
 her using pen and ink, subsisting for two years, was removed. 
 Mary wrote to Cromwell for leave to address her father ; it 
 was granted. She then congratulated him on his mar- 
 riage, and asked leave to see him. No answer was vouched. 
 Then a painful correspondence took place between Mary and 
 Cromwell, by which it may be perceived that before she en- 
 tered Henry VHI.'s presence she must acknowledge that her 
 birth was illegitimate, her motlier's marriage illegal, and that 
 the king was supreme over the Church. Tiie correspondence 
 was long, and Cromwell's replies were both insolent and bit- 
 
1536.] MARY. 349 
 
 ter before Mary submitted to the two first cruel admissions ; 
 the third was left indefinite. Cromwell wrote, and Mary 
 copied, the humiliating terms, and then she was put at the 
 head of a small establishment at Hunsdon, where she was to 
 live with her infant sister Elizabeth, and her cousin and friend, 
 the Lady Margaret Douglas. 
 
 Cromwell, by the order of his capricious master, forbade 
 Mary to treat Elizabeth as princess, or to call her so. One let- 
 ter by Mary from this historical collection deserves perusal, 
 proving she had a kind word to say for the motherless little 
 one Elizabeth. 
 
 LADT MART TO THE KING. 
 
 " My boundcn duty most humbly remembei'ed to your most excellent 
 majesty. Wliereas I am unable and insufficient to render and express to 
 yoiu" highness those most hearty and humble thanks for your gracious mer- 
 cy and fatherly ])ity (surmounting mine offenses at this time) extended 
 toward me, I shall lie prostrate at your noble feet humbly, and with the 
 very bottom of my heart beseecli your grace to repute that in me (which in 
 my poor heart, remaining in your most noble hand, I have conceived and 
 professed toward your grace) while the breath shall remain in my body. 
 That is, tiiat as I am in such merciful sort recovered, being almost lost in 
 mine own folly, that your majesty may as well accept me, justly your bound- 
 en slave by redemption, as your most humble and obedient child and sub- 
 ject. 
 
 " My sister Elizabeth is in good healtli (thanks to our Lord), and such a 
 child toward, as I doubt not but your highness shall have cause to rejoice of 
 in time coming (as knoweth Almighty God), who send your grace, with the 
 queen my good mother, health with the accomplishment of your desires. 
 From Hunsdon, the 21st day of July [IfiSG]. 
 
 "Your highness's most humble daughter and faithful subject, Mary." 
 
 Mary Avas, moreover, personally kind to the poor infant; led 
 her by the hand, ornamented her dresses, and, as for calling her 
 princess, she answered Cromwell, " that she should do as she 
 always had done; she should call Elizabeth sister and noth- 
 ing more." Part of the contest with her late step-mother, 
 Anne Boleyn, was about this title princess, it then being the 
 due of the eldest daughter of the King of England. Mary 
 took an interest in her sister's tuition, still administered bv 
 the kind friend of both sisters, Margaret Bi-yan, who, herself 
 related to the royal family, matronized the establishment at 
 Hunsdon, where her charges, the Princess Mary and the king's 
 niece. Lady Mai'garet Douglas, were at the ages of twenty-one 
 and twenty-two. 
 
 Notwithstanding all concessions made by Mary, she was 
 not admitted into the king's presence until invited to Rich- 
 mond Palace, December 9, 15.36. When once admitted to do- 
 
350 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1539. 
 
 mesticity with him, his former affection revived sufficiently for 
 him to let her sliare his Christmas festivities. She received 
 the usual New Year's gifts, and made some to the maids of 
 Queen Jane, for whom she bought bonnets, at the cost of twen- 
 ty shillings each, of the lord-mayor's wife, Lady Gresham, who 
 kept a milliner's shop. Sir Richard Gresham was the near rel- 
 ative of the Boleyns, and this encouragement of her sister's 
 industrious kindred is a curious incident in their lives. Mary 
 was resident at court March 1 ; for the yeomen of the king's 
 guard presented her with a leek on St. David's Day, and she 
 gave them a fee of fifteen shillings. She was resident at 
 Beaulieu next summer, where she had a bad attack of illness 
 threatening her life, illness which had become decidedly chron- 
 ic. On her recovery she was again invited by her father to 
 court. Here she conducted her little sister Elizabeth ; and 
 when the queen, Jane Seymour, brought into the world at 
 Hampton Court, October 12, the heir to the throne, so much 
 desired, Mary stood godmother to him with Norfolk and Cran- 
 rner. The ceremony concluded, Maiy led away her sister 
 Elizabeth to the royal apartments. Ten days after, the death 
 of Queen Jane took place, and Mary performed the office of 
 chief mourner, following her to St. George's Chapel, Windsor, 
 where she was buried. She remained at the castle while her 
 father Avas secluded, ostensibly for a very sorrowful retirement ; 
 he was, however, sending ambassadors far and wide to find 
 him a new wife, pretending, however, that his object was to 
 find a husband for Mary. She amused herself very quietly by 
 working a capacious cushion for her sire's arm-chair, a box 
 wrought with silver for her sister Elizabeth, and a gay baby 
 cap for her brother and godson, the materials of which cost 
 her 11. ]0s. 
 
 Alarming insurrections in the north next year broke up the 
 peace of the ladies at Hunsdon. Danger for Mary impended, 
 for the restoration of her rights was the war-cry of the Pil- 
 grimage of Grace. Very warily must Mary have guided her 
 way, not to have excited from her jealous sire more suspicion 
 as the mover of that insurrection than she did. Nevertheless, 
 his wrath was wreaked more painfully than on herself. The 
 beloved friends of Mary's youth, the Countess of Salisbury and 
 her family, M^ere, in the commencement of the year 1539, at- 
 tainted without trial, and overwhelmed in one sweeping ruin. 
 In the spring of the same year. Lord Montague (the elder 
 brother of Reginald Pole) was beheaded on a slight pretense. 
 The Countess of Salisbury was immured in the Tower, Avith- 
 out enough money to buy a warm garment. Mary's other 
 
1539-1541.] MARY. 351 
 
 friend, the wretched widow, Gevtrnde",Marchiori'C3s of Exete7, 
 Avas imprisoned in the Tower, expecting her execution after 
 that of her lord. Her captivity was shared by her Httle son 
 Edward, the hapless heir of Courtenay, who was too young for 
 political offenses. As this utter desolation of these semi-royal 
 families was entirely attributed by their tyrannical oppressor 
 to their relationship and friendship for Reginald Pole, whose 
 chief crime was his firm support of the claims of Katharine of 
 Arragon, Mary was agonized by their calamities. At this junc- 
 ture Mary was shut up at Hertford Castle with her little sis- 
 ter Elizabeth; she had had no establishment of her own since 
 jealousy had occurred respecting some hospitality she had 
 afforded to distressed strangers at her dwelling. 
 
 Near Christmas, 1539, mswythen at Hertford Castle, was or-/y^CL 
 dered to receive as her intended spouse Duke Philip of Bavaria, 
 near kinsman to her father's betrothed wife, Anne of Cleves. 
 He Avas a Protestant, and she, though professing obedience, 
 said she preferred remaining single. But she was command- 
 ed to visit her infant brother at Enfield ; and thither Crom- 
 well escorted the German wooer, December 22. He dis- 
 coursed long with her in German, and then in Latin, declaring 
 he admired her, and would gladly espouse her if his person 
 displeased her not. They met again in the abbot's garden, 
 Westminster Abbey, when he kissed her, and they seemed on 
 good terms. But the princess fell so ill at Blackfriars Palace 
 that her death was expected daily. Henry VIH.'s caprice dis- 
 solved his marriage with Anne of Cleves before health re- 
 turned to Mary. Duke Philip was a mighty warrior against 
 the Turks, but, poor as a younger brother, could only offer the 
 English princess a jointure of 800?, per annum, while '7001. 
 was all the portion proposed for her. Mary and Philip met 
 in private often, and he became much attached to her, inso- 
 much that, when their engagement was broken, he never 
 wooed another, and died single for her sake. At this time of 
 her life she was very pretty, and her musical accomplishments 
 and knowledge of languages made her still more attractive. 
 
 The disturbed state of England at this period, gives reason 
 to suppose that Mary's household was again bi'oken up, and 
 that she, though passive and unoffending, was placed where 
 her person could be in more security than in her own dwell- 
 ing. Dreadful events took place in England in the years 
 1540 and 1541 — events which must have produced a fearful 
 effect on the mind of the Princess Mary, and prepared the 
 way for most of the vengeful persecutions which disgraced 
 her reign. This woful epoch saw the destruction of all her 
 
352 QUEENS OF ENGLAiTD, [1541-1544. 
 
 e-.u-iy'irienasv- Tijer o.lci school-master, Dr. Featlierstone, suf- 
 fered the horrid death of treason, in company with Abell, her 
 mother's cliaplain. Tliey were dragged to Smithtield, Avitli 
 fiendish impartiality, on the same hurdles that conveyed the 
 pious Protestant martyr, Dr. Barnes, and two of his fellow- 
 sufterers, to tlie flaming pile. Scarcely could the princess 
 have recovered the shock of this butcheiy, when the frightful 
 execution of her beloved friend and venerable relative, the 
 Countess of Salisbury, took place. She was hacked to pieces 
 on a scaffold in a manner that must have curdled Mary's 
 blood with horror, and stiffened her heart to stone. When 
 the explosion regarding the conduct of Katharine Howard 
 took place, Mary was resident at Sion with her cousin, Mar- 
 garet Douglas. She was, with Margaret, removed from Sion 
 to make way for the wretched queen and her guards, being 
 escorted to the nursery palace of Prince Edward by Dudley. 
 
 Henry VHI. and his sixth bride, Katharine Parr, i-equired 
 her presence at their nuptials ; afterward she went with them 
 on a summer progress to Woodstock, Grafton, and Dunstable ; 
 but being seized with a violent return of her chi'onic illness, 
 she was carried in the queen's litter to Ampthill, her mother's 
 former abiding-place. From thence, after several removes, 
 she was finnlly taken to Ashridge, Avhere her brother Edward 
 and sister Elizabeth were sojourning, and with them she spent 
 the autumn. An auspicious change took place in the situation 
 of Mary. Although her restoration to her natural place in 
 the succession was not complete, yet the crown was entailed 
 on her by act of Parliament, passed February 7,1544, after 
 Prince Edward, or the sons or daughters which Henry might 
 have by his wife Katharine Parr or any succeeding wives. 
 
 At the entreaty of Queen Katharine Parr, she undertook 
 the translation of the Latin paraphrase of St. John, by Eras- 
 mus. Like Scripture itself, the luminous paraphrases by Eras- 
 mus were locked in a learned language from the approach of 
 general readers. It was the erudition and industry of the 
 Princess Mary that rendered into English the whole of St. 
 John. The manuscript she had completed was comprised in 
 the same volume with the other paraphrases of Erasmus, 
 which were translated by several celebrated reformers. 
 Those who mistake Henry VHI. for a patron of the Reforma- 
 tion, instead of what he really was {and still continues to be), 
 its impediment, shame, and sorrow, have supposed that Mary 
 undertook this task to propitiate her father. But that such a 
 course was not the way to his good graces, is apparent from 
 his anger against Katliariiie Parr, on account of the theolog- 
 
1544-1547.] MARY, 353 
 
 ical works patronized by her — anger which had nearly been 
 fatal to that queen, who, in her letter from Hanworth, Septem- 
 ber, 1544, entreated Mary to get her translation of St, John 
 revised, and then with speed " to send this, her most fair and 
 useful work," to her, that she might, with the rest, commit it 
 to the press, desiring, withal, to know of her whether it should 
 be published in her name or anonymously, Mary did not ap- 
 pend her name to her translation. She retained her fatlier's 
 favor to the close of his existence. Henry in his will confirmed 
 Mary in her reversionary rights of succession, and bequeathed 
 to her the sum of 10,000^. toward her marriage portion, if she 
 married with the consent of his council of regency^ While 
 she continued unmarried, she was to enjoy an income of 3,000?. 
 l^er annum. 
 
 One day, when the king felt convinced that his death was 
 approaching, he sent for Mary. He addressed her with af- 
 fection, and said, " I know well, my daughter, that fortune 
 has been most adverse to you ; that I have caused you infinite 
 sorrow, and that I have not given you in marriage, as I de- 
 sired to do. This was, however, owing to the unhappy state 
 of my affairs, or to your own ill luck ; but I pray you take it 
 all in good part, and promise me to remain as a kind and 
 loving mother to your brother, whom I shall leave a little 
 helpless child." Mary made her father the promise. In all 
 the stormy movements of the succeeding reign she never gave 
 the least encouragement to any rebellion — happy if she could 
 preserve her own home from molestation, which was not al- 
 ways the case. 
 
 CHAPTER n. • 
 
 The first employment of Edward VI., on his accession, was 
 to write to his sister Mary, from the Tower, a Latin lettei-, 
 dated February 8, 1546-7, of condolence on their father's 
 death, concluding, " So far as in me lies, I will be to you a 
 dearest brother, and overflowing with all kindness." The 
 mind of the boy-sovereign must have been tenderly intent on 
 his sister Mary, for a few days afterward his royal hand re- 
 corded the only memorial existing of a nocturnal attempt on 
 her life, made in 1546. 
 - In June, Lord Thomas Seymour requested her sanction to 
 
354 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1548-1550. 
 
 his marriage with her friend and step-mother, Katharine 
 Parr : her answer disowns skill " in wooing matters ;" and 
 intimates that a few weeks' widowhood was short for a 
 queen. 
 
 Mary was then living at her seat near Wanstead. She 
 passed the Christmas succeeding in the society of the king 
 and her sister, on the most aifectionate terms. From that 
 time, however, the visits of Mary to court were few ; as she 
 could not agree with the tenets of the Protestants, she held 
 herself as much in retirement as possible. The country was, 
 the succeeding summer, in a state of insurrection, on account 
 of the utter misery of the poor. Mary rejected the Common 
 Prayer issued by Somerset, yet at that time limited her relig- 
 ious zeal to the narrow circle of her own chapel and household, 
 for which she claimed only toleration. Her brother request- 
 ed her to stay with him at St. James's Palace the autumn of 
 1548, The widower of Katharine Parr, Lord Thomas Sey- 
 mour, often paid his court to Mary during her residence at 
 St, James's Palace. If he failed in his matrimonial projects 
 regarding Elizabeth, or Lady Jane Gray, he meant to offer 
 his hand to the Princess Mary. But he was in a short time 
 hurried, without trial, to the block by his fraternal foe. Sey- 
 mour employed his last moments in writing to Mary and 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 Mary retired to her seat at Newhall, on bad terms with 
 Somerset. She was, withal, dangerously ill ; her death Avas 
 expected several times during 1550. Somerset's disputes 
 with her were interrupted by his sudden deposition from the 
 protectorship. The love the young king and the people bore 
 Mary caused his successor Dudley urgently to try winning 
 her on his side, even with offers of the regency. She pos- 
 itively I'efused, pleading her ill health and father's will. As 
 she refused alliance, Dudley and his friends declared enmity 
 to her, and induced her brother to forbid the rites of her re- 
 ligion. Her worship continued just the same, only she limit- 
 ed it to her own chapel. Mary complained to the emperor, 
 who sent a fleet to hover off Harwich, in hopes of her escape 
 to the care of his sister, Mary, governing the Low Countries. 
 The young king invited his sister to St, James's in the winter: 
 she was too ill to come. Dudley sapped her influence by as- 
 suring him that she would not come, which estranged them 
 for life. Only state visits of a few hours occurred between 
 Edward and Mary afterward. But in December, 1550, visits 
 from Lady J,ane Gray, her mother and sisters took place ; 
 and Lady Jane Gray was left with her cousin more than a 
 
1552-1553.] MARY. 355 
 
 fortnight. Presents of jewels given to her cousin Jane occur 
 in Mary's jewel-book. 
 
 When the Princess Mary Avas resident at Wanstead House 
 in the year 1552, she paid a state visit to Edward VI. She 
 rode from Wanstead, attended by her ladies and gentlemen, 
 to Westminster, appealing to her brother on the interruption 
 to her domestic worship. " The Lady Mary, my sister," says 
 young Edward, in his journal, " came to me at Westminster, 
 where she was called with my council into a chamber, where 
 was declared how long I had suffered her mass, and how (now 
 being no hope, which I perceived by her letters) I could not 
 bear it." Mary answered, " that her soul was God's, and her 
 faith she would not change." She offered "to lay her head 
 on the block in testimony of the same." The young king an- 
 swered with tender and gracious words. 
 
 Francis Mallet, her old friend, had been taken away from 
 her service, and thrown into a dark dungeon in the Tower. 
 Robert Rochester, the controler of her household, was sent for 
 by the council, and exhorted to do away with the Roman rites 
 by force at Wanstead. He flatly refused, and preferred impris- 
 onment in the Tower. The lord chancellor and part of the 
 council went to break up Mary's religious establishment ; a 
 stormy scene ensued, in which she told them to send home 
 Rochester and her other officers, as she did not like ordering 
 brewing and baking, though she had lately learned how many 
 loaves a bushel of wheat could make. "But I wis," added 
 she, " my father and mother never brought me up to that 
 trade." 
 
 Mary had succeeded in retaining the ritual of the Roman 
 Church. In July, 1552, Lady Wharton, passing through the 
 chapel at Newhall in company with Lady Jane Gray, at a time 
 when service was not proceeding, courtesied to the host on 
 the altar, upon which Lady Jane Gray reproved her. Lady 
 Wharton reported this reproof to the Princess Mary, who 
 never after loved Lady Jane as she had done before. 
 
 Edward VL expired at Greenwich Palace, not a year after- 
 ward, July 8, 1553. He disinherited, by an illegal will, not 
 only the sister whose religion he hated, but his Protestant 
 sister Elizabeth, in order to bestow the crown on Lady Jane 
 Gray, then Northumberland's daughter-in-law. Edward's 
 death remained a secret from the public for two days. Young 
 Throckmorton, who was in office at Greenwich Palace, heard 
 Sir John Gates exclaim sharply to Northumberland, " What, 
 sir! will you let the Lady Mary escape, and nc^t secure her 
 person ?" No more met the listener's ears, but those words 
 
356 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1553. 
 
 fell not unheedecl. When the council met, a deceitful letter 
 was agreed upon, to induce Mary to come to nurse her broth- 
 er. She set off, greatly pleased that her brother had thought 
 of her, and got as near London as Hoddesdeu, when Throck- 
 morton met her, and warned her that the king was dead, and 
 the invitation a trap to lure her into the Tower, where North- 
 umberland meant to incarcerate her. Wearied as she was, 
 Mary turned her rein eastward, and fled with her faithful reti- 
 nue of ladies and officers toward Suffi^lk. 
 
MARY. 
 
 357 
 
358 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1553. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Weaey aud worn, the fugitive qiieen arrived at the gate of 
 Sawston Hall, and by the advice of Andrew Huddleston, her 
 faithful equerry, claimed the hospitality of its owner, his kins- 
 man. This was willingly granted by him, although he well 
 knew how adverse his neighbors of the town of Cambridge 
 were to her cause. Very early next day they were all at 
 chapel, and then on the road ; not too soon, for when Mary 
 gained the rise called the Gogmagog Hills, and looked back on 
 her late hospitable shelter, at that moment Sawston Hall 
 burst into flames, kindled by plunderers from Cambridge. 
 " Let it burn," said Mary, " I will build Huddleston a better ;" 
 which she actually did. She had a sharp race to her seat at 
 Kenninghall, which, though too strong for the Cambridge 
 townsmen, was not deemed fortress sufficient to defy North- 
 imiberland's forces. Mary, however, rested there till July 11, 
 when she wrote to the privy council, claiming allegiance. 
 Framlingham, the strongest castle in the east country, was the 
 place of her destination. Arriving there before the night of 
 July 11 had quite obscured the Suffolk woodlands in which 
 Framlingham is embosomed, the royal standard of England 
 was raised over its encircling towers directly she crossed 
 the draw-bridge. The chivalry of Sulfolk, led by Sir John 
 Sulyard and Sir Henry Bedingfield, mustered bravely round 
 her. Shortly, a populous camp rose beneath the castle walls. 
 From the highest watch-tower the port of Aldborough might 
 be seen, and the queen's ships in the offing signaled. Six were 
 observed passing to Yarmouth under the command of North- 
 umberland's admiral ; to Yarmouth Sir Henry Jerningham 
 posted, undertaking a most dangerous commission from Mary. 
 It perfectly succeeded ; for when Sir Henry arrived in an 
 open boat to demand the allegiance of the seamen for Queen 
 Mary, they admitted him in her name, deposing their captains ; 
 and she was instantly proclaimed at Yarmouth, and in a few 
 hours at Norwich ; which example was followed by all En- 
 gland, excepting within London wall, insomuch that Northum- 
 berland, who had with his army arrived in Cambridge, thought 
 it expedient to proclaim Queen Mary, which he did with the 
 tears running down his foce. Soon after he was her prisoner, 
 with his partisans. 
 
1553.] MAKY. 359 
 
 Mary's unwilling rival, Lady Jane Gray, was shut up in the 
 Tower, and kept there, after her ten days' reign, Avith her fa- 
 ther, Thomas Gray, Duke of Suffolk. Poor Jane only changed 
 the name of her imprisonment since the father of her husband, 
 Guildford, put the crown on her reluctant head. The queen's 
 approach t^^ London was in the manner of a peaceful progress, 
 receiving the homages of her subjects. At Ipswich she gave 
 audience to Secretary Cecil, who had been dispatched by the 
 council M'ith tidings. Here he made sucli fluent excuses, call- 
 ing them afterward " pardonable lies," that the queen told his 
 sister-iu-law, Mrs. Bacon, one of her women, that " she really 
 believed he was a very honest man." 
 
 Elizabeth met her sister on the road at the head of one 
 thousand gentlemen, a guard of honor which had gathered 
 round her since Northumberland's surrender. The royal sis- 
 ters affectionately greeted, and entered London by Aldgate. 
 Mary made directly for the Tower, where she meant to dwell 
 until after the burial of Edward VI. Kneeling on the g. 
 before St. Peter's Church, she found awaiting her entrance 
 the state prisoners, Catholic and Protestant, lawlessly detai 
 ed during the late reigns. There was Edward Courtenay 
 Earl of Devonshire, now in the pride of manly beauty, who 
 had grown up a prisoner of the Tower from his tenth year ; 
 there was the wretched Duchess of Somerset ; there was the 
 aged Duke of Noi-folk, still under sentence of death ; there 
 were the deprived Bishops of Durham and Winchester — the 
 mild Cuthbert Tunstall and the haughty Stephen Gardiner, 
 which last addressed congratulation and supplication to the 
 queen in the name of all. Mary burst into tears, and extend- 
 ing her hands to them, she exclaimed, " Ye are my prisoners !" 
 She raised them one by one, kissed them, and gave them all 
 their liberty. The bishops were instantly restored to their 
 sees, and Gardiner was sworn into the queen's privy council. 
 
 Cranmer performed the funeral ceremony for Edward VI. 
 at Westminster Abbey, according to the ritual of the Church 
 of England. Mary assisted at a solemn requiem for his soul 
 at the private chapel in the Tower. 
 
 Such proceedings were too sensible for angry polemics to 
 pursue permanently, and in the course of three wrecks open 
 warfare threatened from religious differences. The queen was 
 appealed to by Protestants, as the head of the Reformed Church, 
 which in the times of her fisher and brother Avas armed wiili 
 sword and flame. against all and every one who owned not the 
 royal supremacy ; and the Catholics expected not only impu- 
 nity, but to wreak vengeance. The queen requested the bel- 
 
360 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1553. 
 
 ligerents to keep the peace, for all disputed points should be 
 settled by muttial consent, when Parliament sat. Meantime, 
 Henry VIII. 's Six Bloody Articles were acted upon. They 
 had gained the epithet of " bloody" from Henry VIII.'s prac- 
 tice, not from that of his daughter. 
 
 .The accession of Queen Mary had not altered hej regard for 
 her sister Elizabeth ; their first difference had yet to take 
 place ; she usually walked hand in hand with her, and never 
 dined in public without her. Mary likewise distinguished 
 Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire ; she endeavored to form his 
 manners ; but he is said to have contracted habits of low 
 profligacy at the Tower. The people wished him to marry her. 
 Public opinion had already named a suitor for the hand of the 
 queen — her other kinsman, Cardinal Pole. The Pope was will- 
 ing to dispense with the vows of a prince of the Church, but 
 "the rigid principles of the queen and Pole would not sufter 
 t.lipm to accept such dispensation. The counsel Pole gave to 
 ry was, to remain single. All the English agreed in de- 
 sting the queen's engagement to Philip, Prince of Spain — 
 .11 but the mercantile class, which looked forward to the rich- 
 es that would pour in by commerce with his Low Countries. 
 
 The trial of Northumberland and his accomplices took place 
 August 18; twelve were condemned, three only executed. 
 Northumberland made all submissions to save his life, com- 
 l^lied with every requisition of the Roman Church, but in 
 vain ; he was executed with Sir John Gates. The queen next 
 turned her thoughts to rewarding those faithful to her in her 
 long adversity. Robert Rochester and the other gentlemen, 
 committed to prison by her brother's council for refusing to 
 control her, she instantly released from their captivity. Hav- 
 ing made Rochester controller of the royal household, and 
 chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, she carried her gratitude 
 so far as to make him Knight of the Garter, and one of her 
 privy council. Her Spanish allies urged her to take the life of 
 Lady Jane Gray. Mary at first refused to do so, as she was 
 innocent in intent ; but poor Jane and her husband Guildford 
 Dudley remained in separate ])rison lodgings in the Tower. 
 Suffolk was released the first days of her reign ; for his wife, 
 her cousin, Lady Frances Brandon, threw herself at the queen's 
 feet and declared he would die if penned in the Tower. Mary 
 gave her his libertj^ on promise of fidelity. 
 
 Margaret Douglas, then wife#3f Matthew Stuart, Earl of 
 Lennox, near to the Scottish throne, was sent for out of York- 
 shire, and with her son, Lord Darnley, loaded with gifts and 
 honors. Lady Margaret was made the queen's first lady. 
 
1553-1554.] MARY. 361 
 
 Like her mistress, she Avas a Roman Catholic ; she brought up 
 Darnley in bigotry, but with a learned education ; he was 
 then about nine years old, and letters of thanks to his jDatron- 
 ess, Queen Mary, are extant in beautiful writing, with transla- 
 tions in Greek and Latin. 
 
 The coronation of the queen took place, October 1, 1553. 
 She was ill with her chronic sufierings, and in such pain as to 
 have to lean her head on her hand under the weight of her 
 jeweled diadem. Her sister Elizabeth was present, and one 
 of her father's Avidows, Amie of Cleves ; both w^ere treated 
 with distinction. 
 
 The trial of Lady Jane Gray and her husband took place at 
 Guildhall, in November ; they pleaded guilty, and were sen- 
 tenced to death, but remanded back to the Tower, and res- 
 pited as long as the public peace continued. This custom, 
 had been prevalent since the accession of the Tudors. In the 
 reigns of Edward IV., Richard III., Henry VII., and Henry 
 VIII., most insurgents were placed under these tantalizing 
 sentences ; few escaped. Early in 1554 the queen, who had 
 been very ill since autumn, made known her engagement to 
 Philip of Spain, who was to be but nominal king, interfering 
 in nothing with the Parliament and laAvs of England. Never- 
 theless, violent insurrections broke out, one led by Sir Thomas 
 Wyatt, and one by the Duke of Suffolk, the queen's lately 
 liberated prisoner, who proclaimed his daughter as sovereign. 
 The city being besieged on the Southwark side by Wyatt, 
 who pointed cannon at the Tower, the queen went to Guild- 
 hall, where she harangued the lord-mayor. She took barge, 
 and was rowed near enough to see the defenses of the Tower, 
 and then returned to Whitehall. Early next day, February 
 7, Wyatt, who had raised his siege, marched round by Brent- 
 ford, and invaded the Avest end of London. The fiercest 
 attack was made at the back of Westminster Palace, the prin- 
 cipal defense of which Avas the ancient castellated portal lead- 
 ing to the abbey, called the " Gate House." Queen Mary, at 
 the most alarming crisis of the assault, stood in the gallery of 
 the Gate House : the palace then was in the utmost danger, 
 for she saw her guards broken, and utterly dispersed by 
 Knevet. Then Courtenay, Avho had been given some com- 
 mand, rushed into the palace saying that all Avas surrendered 
 to Wyatt. News which Mary received with great disdain of 
 his poltroonery ; but she went to encourage the brave exer- 
 tions of her battle-axe gentlemen, and actually stood between 
 tAvo of them within ai-quclnise shot of the enemy. The result 
 was that Lord Pembroke's final charge decided the fortune 
 
 Q 
 
362 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1554. 
 
 of the day. "VVyatt was taken and brought in prisoner, when 
 the band of gentlemen-at-arms were admitted, and thanked 
 by the queen for their services. One of them, called the Hot 
 Gospeller, distinguished himself in her defense, and she re- 
 membered what she owed to him, for he lived a prosperous 
 gentleman, and died peacefully, at an advanced age, in the 
 next reign. 
 
 The dolorous consequence of this rebellion was the execu- 
 tion of the hapless Lady Jane Gray, against whom the fatal 
 facts of her reproclamation as queen by her fother, and at 
 Rochester by Wyatt, were vehemently urged. The execu- 
 tions of this lovely, learned, and innocent girl and her young- 
 husband must ever be considered frightful stains on the reign 
 of a female sovereign. But since the wars of the Roses, the 
 turbulence of the people would never permit any near connec- 
 tions of the crown to rest, without making their names the 
 excuse for civil war. Her mother, Frances Brandon, Henry 
 VHI.'s niece, married Adrian Stokes, her equerry, three weeks 
 after the executions of her husband, the Duke of Suffolk, and 
 lier daughter Jane. She continued in her place about Queen 
 Mary's person, next in rank to her first cousin. Lady Marga- 
 ret. Her daughters. Lady Katharine and Lady Mary Gray, 
 were maids of honor to the queen. 
 
 The queen was ill almost unto death in April, wlien Wyatt 
 and his coadjutors were executed ; Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, 
 who had served her so effectually, was implicated with them ; 
 but Mary roused herself to send her officers Rochester and 
 Inglefiekl to bear witness to his fidelity. There was great 
 difficulty in saving him from the malice of Gardiner and his 
 party. 
 
 Meanwhile the confessions of Wyatt and Croft gave notice 
 of competitors nearer in blood to the queen than the conscien- 
 tious Lady Jane Gray. The Spanish minister Renaud urged 
 on Mary that the destruction of her sister and of her kinsman 
 Courtenay could alone secure her regal power. Elizabeth 
 was finally sent to the Tower. Courtenay (supposed to be 
 her intended spouse) was likewise imprisoned. Bishop Gar- 
 diner, who strongly patronized Courtenay, and recommend- 
 ed him as husband to Mary, was murderously bent on de- 
 stroying Elizabeth. Report says that he sent a warrant for 
 her execution at the Tower, which the queen prevented by 
 putting her sister under the care of Sir Henry Bedingfield, 
 May 10, who conducted her safely to Woodstock, where she 
 remained in restraint (see Life of Elizabeth). Courtenay was 
 sent to Fotheringay Castle at the same time. 
 
1554.] MARY. 363 
 
 Mary, on her recovery, drew near the southern coast to 
 await the arrival of Philip of Spain, expected at Southampton, 
 She was at Faruhani Castle when news arrived that he was 
 ready to land ; and then she came to Winchester Palace for 
 their marriage. Not more than four hundred Spaniards landed 
 with Philip, among whom were the fools, fiddlers, and dwarfs, 
 belonging to the retinue of grandees, and their wives, who bore 
 them company. This was the largest Spanish force that ever 
 landed in England ; nor were the English likely to be awed 
 and coerced by Philip's fleets. The prince was much offended 
 by the queen's admiral, Lord William Howard, making liim 
 strike his topsails and lower his flag, according to the ancient 
 supremacy of England in her own seas. The Spanish fleet 
 returned as soon as Philip landed at Southampton mole, July 
 20. Lord Arundel buckled the Garter on his leg the first 
 step he took on English ground. The next day, in the midst 
 of a pouring rain, he set out with his train on horseback for 
 Winchester. 
 
 The queen's first interview with her afiianced husband took 
 place tliat evening. Mary conversed with him familiarly in 
 Spanish for about half an hour; then he went back to the 
 deanery. The queen held a grand court at three o'clock next 
 afternoon. Philip came on foot from the deanery, attended by 
 the Earl of Derby, the Earl of Pembroke ; likewise with his 
 grandees and their wives. The royal minstrels met him, and 
 played before him, and the people shouted " God save your 
 grace !" 
 
 On St. James's Day Queen Mary walked on foot from the 
 episcopal palace, attended by her principal nobility and ladies. 
 She met her bridegroom in the choir, and they took their seats 
 in the chairs of state, an altar between them. Philip was at- 
 tended by sixty grandees, among whom were Alva, Medina, 
 Egmont, and Pescara. He was dressed in a robe of brocade, 
 bordered with large pearls and diamonds. He wore a collar 
 full of inestimable diamonds, at which bung the jewel of the 
 Golden Fleece; at his knee was the Garter, wrought with beau- 
 tiful colored gems, presented by Mary, worth 4000/. 
 
 The marriage, which was both in Latin and English, proceed- 
 ed till it came to the part of the ceremony when the question 
 was asked, " who was to give her?" and it was a puzzling one, 
 not provided for, but the Marquess of Winchester and the 
 Earls of Derby and Pembroke came forward, and gave her in 
 the name of the whole realm. Upon which the people gave a 
 great shout, and prayed God to send them joy. Some dis- 
 cussion had previously taken place regarding the ring, which 
 
864 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [155i. 
 
 the queen decided, choosing " to be wedded with a plain hoop 
 of gold, like any other maiden." Philip laid on the book three 
 handfuls of fine gold coins, and some silver ones. When the 
 Lady Margaret, her cousin, saw this, she opened the queen's 
 purse, and her majesty was observed to smile on her as she put 
 the bridal gold within it. Don Philip took the queen's hand, 
 and both walked under one canopy when they returned from 
 their marriage. The queen took the right hand. The cere- 
 mony in the cathedral lasted from eleven in the morning till 
 three in the afternoon. The queen was dressed at her marriage 
 in a robe richly brocaded on a gold ground, with a long train 
 splendidly bordered with pearls and diamonds of great size. 
 The large sleeves were turned up with pearls and diamonds. 
 Her coif was bordered with two rows of large diamonds. On 
 her breast was the remarkable diamond sent to her as a gift 
 from Philip while he was still in Spain. 
 
 In the hall of the episcopal palace the bridal banquet was 
 spread. The seats for Queen Mary and her spouse were placed 
 under one canopy. Below the dais were various tables, where 
 the queen's ladies, the Spanish grandees, their wives, and the 
 English nobility were feasted. The Winchester boys had 
 written Latin epithalaraiums, which they recited between the 
 courses, and were rewarded by the queen. After the banquet 
 King Philip returned thanks to the "lords of the council" and 
 nobility ; the queen spoke very graciously to tlje Spanish 
 grandees and their ladies, in their own language. The tables 
 were taken up at six o'clock, and dancing commenced ; but the 
 whole gay scene concluded at nine, when the queen and Philip 
 withdrew from the ball. In a day or two the royal pair re- 
 tired to Windsor, spending the ensuing month there and at 
 Richmond. Their grand London entry ensued, in which many 
 chests of silver in bars were borne in their procession, to the 
 delight of the people, for renewing the exhausted currency. 
 Then Mary and Philip went to Hampton Court to spend the 
 autumn until Parliament met in November. 
 
 Had the English houses of Parliament been as firm in the 
 defense of the Protestant faith, and of the lives of their fel- 
 low creatures, as they were of the ill-gotten grants of Church 
 lands, the annals of the first queen-regnant would have been 
 clear of persecution ; but the recklessness with which they 
 passed laws for burning their fellow-subjects, contrasts with 
 their earnestness, when a hint was given about the restoration 
 of the mammon they really worshiped ; many struck their 
 hands on their swords, affirming, with oaths, " that they Avould 
 never part with their abbey lands while they could wield 
 
Mary kuc 
 with authority iroi.. 
 
 Rome, confirming these -. m 
 
 possession of their spoils. The queen ocouo,,^^ >>.. ^^.^.ualPolc 
 every mark of honor on his arrival in England. He came by 
 water from Gravesend ; and fixing the large silver cross, em- 
 blem of his legatine authority, in the prow of his state-barge, 
 its progress was surveyed with mixed emotions by the citi- 
 zens, who lined the banks of the Thames as he was rowed to 
 Whitehall. Parliament renewed that terrible act for burning 
 heretics, which had, in the days of Henrys IV. and V., caused 
 such frightful executions of the Lollards. All ought not to be 
 included in the detestation deserved by these legislators. A 
 noble band of thirty or forty members, appealing against this 
 wicked act of Parliament, forsook their seats. The minority 
 was composed of Catholics as well as Protestants ; among 
 them, the great legalist serjeant Plowden, who refused, for 
 conscience sake, in the next reign to be lord chancellor. The 
 queen now surrendered her dignity as head of the Chuich. 
 
 The Church lands, with which Henry VHI. had bribed his 
 aristocracy, titled and untitled, into co-operation with his 
 enormities, both personal and political, had induced national de- 
 pravity. The leaders of the Mar'an persecution, as it is called, 
 were the Lord Chancellor Gardiner, and Bonner, Bishop of 
 London ; both were of the apostate class of persecutors. For 
 the sake of worldly advantage, either for ambition or power, 
 Gardiner and Bonner had for twenty years promoted the 
 burning or quartering of the advocates of papal supremacy : 
 they now turned with the tide, and burnt the opposers of pa- 
 pal supremacy. Moreover, the persecution appears to have 
 been greatly aggravated by the caprice, or the private ven- 
 geance, of these prelates. Cardinal Pole, all allow, Avas op- 
 posed to cruelty, but he found himself a foreigner in the land 
 of his birth, with his health broken, and no one of his side but 
 the queen. Her health gave way under the agitation of these 
 events. She was carried from Westminster Hall fainting, but 
 her illness was considered hopeful, giving expectation of ofli"- 
 spring. 
 
 The proto-martyrs of the Protestant Church of England 
 Avere men of blameless lives and consistent conduct : their 
 leader was prebend Rogers, of St. Paul's, who was burned at 
 Smithfield, February 4, 1555. The same' week were burnt, 
 Saunders, rector of All Hallows, at Coventry ; Dr. Rowland 
 
all re 
 ^^ other Prot--^ 
 ^nurch of England, 
 
 Wv. 
 
 In J: V. . -.— ^ , --<^^, v^iiiistiern III., King of Denmark, wrote 
 an excellent letter to Queen Mary, claiming Bishop Coverdale, 
 one of the translators of the English Bible, as his subject. 
 Thus, to the joy of all humane persons, was this good and 
 learned man delivered from a dreadful death. Yet the only 
 notice of the queen's existence for several months was that 
 " on April 3 the king's grace removed the queen to Hampton 
 Court to keep Easter, and to take her chamber there," after 
 the usual mode of the Queens of England who expected off- 
 spring. Once only was Queen Mary seen by the public, which 
 was on St. George's Day, 'the 23d of the same month. A few 
 days afterward, it was rumored that she had given birth to a 
 prince. Expectation of the birth of an heir to England con- 
 tinued for some weeks, notwithstanding all disappointment. 
 " From the time of her first affliction her head was frightfully 
 swelled : she was likewise subject to perpetual attacks of hys- 
 terics." Who can, however, beheve that a woman in this state 
 of mortal suffering was capable of governing a kingdom, or 
 that she was accountable for any thing done in it ? Foxe, 
 whenever the queen is mentioned, really confirms the descrip- 
 tion of this ambassador. " Sometimes," he reports, " she laid 
 weeks without speaking, as one dead, and more than once the 
 rumor went that she had died in childbed." The next news 
 was, " that the queen was alive ; but her state was by no 
 means of the hopeful kind generally supposed, but rather some 
 woful malady, for she sat Avhole days on the ground crouched 
 together, with her knees higher than her head." The females 
 of her household and her medical attendants still kept up the 
 delusive hope that her accouchement Avas at hand. Prayers 
 were put up for her safe delivery, in May. The news was act- 
 ually published in London, and carried to Norwich and Flan- 
 ders, that a prince was born. She returned to St. James's 
 Palace no one knew how nor when, and continued in a de- 
 plorable state of health throughout the summer of 1555. 
 
 The determination of Charles V., to abdicate his dominions 
 in favor of his son, was the ostensible cause of the departure 
 of Philip of Spain. Preparations commenced, by the court's 
 removal from Hampton Court to stay a few days at Oatlands. 
 
 Philip took his leave of the queen August 29. Mary parted 
 from her husband with the most passionate tears and lamenta- 
 
155G.] MARY. 361 
 
 tions. The Princess Elizabeth remained the chief part of the 
 autumn at Greenwich with her sister, and shared all her ritual 
 observances. J^'ov a few afternoons, the queen struggled to 
 pay the attention tc business as she had formerly done, but 
 lier health gave way agaiu in the attempt, and she wns ggen 
 no more at council. " "'' 
 
 The year 1556 was marked with persecution, insurrection, 
 and famine : the martyrdoms of Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley 
 took place in the spring, under the act the cruel English Par- 
 liament of 1554 had passed. Two other Parharaents had duly 
 sat, but the dreadful legislation remained without repeal, under 
 the executive power of Gardiner and Bonner, who, among 
 other writings, condemned the queen's translation of St. John 
 to the flames. The utter paucity of all intelligence concerning 
 the residence and movements of Mary, and her total absence 
 from council, leads to the conclusion that she was again on a 
 sick-bed. She made no pi'ogresses in the summer ; indeed, 
 such movements were impossible in her desperate state of 
 health, for, when she attemped them in her father's reign, she 
 was usually carried home ill in a litter. Her affectionate maid 
 of honor, Jane Dormer, who married a Spanish grandee, the 
 Conde di Feria, aflirms, in her memoirs, that her royal mistress, 
 when convalescent in the summer, retired to the palace at 
 Croydon, which had been a dower residence of her mother, 
 Katharine of Arragon. Here her sole amusement was walk- 
 ing, plainly dressed, with her ladies, and entering the-cottages 
 of the poor, and, unknown to them, relieving their wants. 
 She likewise chose those of their children who appeared prom- 
 ising, for the benefits of education. Queen Mary returned the 
 frequent visits her sister had made her by a short progress to 
 Hatfield. Here the next morning she was entertained by Eliza- 
 beth with a grand exhibition of bear-baiting. To do Mary 
 justice, this is the only instance recorded of her presence and 
 satisfaction at any exhibition of cruelty. The evening recrea- 
 tions of Hatfield, it may be considered, were more to the taste 
 of the musical queen, for they consisted of concerts. The queen 
 soon after expressed her approbation of the conduct of Eliza- 
 beth, regarding the King of Sweden's proposal of her marriage 
 with his heir. She sent for Sir Thomas Pope, her sister's cas- 
 tellan, and, after declaring her approval of Elizabeth's refer- 
 ence to herself respecting the Swedish offer, requested him to 
 learn her sister's real sentiments, as to whether her constant 
 refusal of suitors proceeded from any objection to the married 
 state in general. The return of Queen Mary's truant spouse 
 was announced to her by an avant-cowrier, whom she had re- 
 
368 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1557. 
 
 cently reprieved from sentence of death for treason, and released 
 Ironi the Tower, the same Robert Dudley who afte'^nfd' oc- 
 cupied a remarkable position in the reign of. -Sizabeth He 
 ^ame from King Philip to the court at Gro^^^i^i to the queen 
 
 witte^PJVI:?"'! . "^.'" -- —--y ' . 
 
 DreaLiUrp'ersecutioiis were revived after Philip's arrival; 
 yet England and the English Parliament must rest under the 
 disgrace of permitting these cruelties, for they were not sup- 
 ported by foreign force, since the fact is noted, "that only 
 three hoys full of Spaniards arrived at the same time with 
 King Philip, March, 1557." The queen sent information to 
 the civic authorities that, with the king, she would ride from 
 Tower wharf through London, March 23, accompanied by the 
 nobles and ladies of her realm. The ceremony was caused by 
 an important mercantile alliance with Russia, confided by the 
 queen to Sebastian Cabot early in her reign, to establish the 
 commerce which b-as proved a source of prosperity to both 
 countries. The rich fruits soon were manifest, but the seed 
 was sown and took root in Mary's reign. Michele, the Vene- 
 tian ambassador, who was present in 1557, thus minutely 
 describes her'*person : " She is of low stature, but has no de- 
 formity in any part of her person. She is thin and delicate, 
 altogether unlike her father, who was tall, and strongly made. 
 Her face is well formed and her features prove, as well as her 
 pictures, that when younger she was not only good-looking, 
 but more than moderately handsome : she would now be so, 
 saving some wrinkles, caused more by sorrow than by age. 
 She looks years older t-han she is. Her eyes are piercing, and 
 inspire deference in those on whom she bends them ; yet she 
 is near-sighted, being unable to read without her eyes being 
 close to whatever she would peruse. Her voice is powerful 
 and high-pitched, so that when she speaks she is heard at some 
 little distance." 
 
 Queen Mary's court at this time was the resort of men 
 whose undying names fill the history of that stormy century, 
 whose renown either for good or evil is familiar in memory 
 as household words. There appeared Alva the Terrible, by his 
 side the magnificent Flemming Count Egmont and his fellow- 
 patriot, Count Howe, the grandee Ruy Gomez, afterward the 
 celebrated prime minister of Spain ; and as if to complete the 
 historic group, there arrived soon after Philibert Emanuel of 
 Savoy, the suitor of Elizabeth and the future conqueror of St. 
 Quintin. Last and greatest came that illustrious Prince of 
 Orange, who wrested Holland from the grasp of Philip IL 
 
 In June, 1557, war with France was proclaimed in London 
 
1558.] MARY. 369 
 
 by the queen's heralds. Phihp, whose return to England was 
 to gain help on account of tlie war, soon embarked for the 
 Low Countries, July 5 : the queen never saw him more. His 
 friend, the Prince of Savoy, won for him the battle of St. 
 Quintin, but this victory seemed an illustration of the adage 
 of " gaining a loss," since the principal result was, that the 
 French got possession of Calais a few months afterward. 
 Differences by letter took place between her and her spouse, 
 on occasion of his desire to force the Princess Elizabeth into 
 a foreign marriage Avith his friend the Duke of Savoy. Mary 
 was as much opposed to it as her sister and the Parliament. 
 She wrote her husband a long letter in French, answering his, 
 deprecating his reproaches for not forcing all opposition to his 
 will, declaring she had no right to oppose English Parlia- 
 ments. 
 
 " When do you English intend to visit France again ?" 
 w^as the taunting question asked by a French chevalier of an 
 English veteran, as Lord Gray was marching out of Calais. 
 "When your crimes exceed ours," was the reply. The En- 
 glish insisted that King Philip should make no peace with 
 France till Calais was restored ; and this involved the queen 
 in such a mesh of disputes, that she declared "she should die, 
 and if her breast was opened, Calais would be found written 
 on her heart." It was reunited to the French crown, Janua- 
 ry, 1558. Her spirits were oppi-essed by the death of lier friend 
 Charles V., in September, 1558, and then she was seized with 
 a prevalent intermittent fever. She wrote for her husband 
 to return. The war was his excuse for absence ; but he sent 
 his friend the Count di Feria, who had married Mary's favor- 
 ite maid Jane Dormer. The queen, feeling death near, sent 
 her jewels to her sister Elizabeth by the Countess di Feria ; 
 to these, by King Philip's orders, w^as added a very precious 
 casket of colored gems lie had left at St. James's Palace. The 
 queen, when she sent the jewels, charged her sister to pay all 
 the debts she had contracted on privy-seals, and to keep re- 
 ligion as she found it. Cardinal Pole was dying of the same 
 intermittent fever as his royal cousin ; it was doubtful which 
 would expire first. 
 
 The whole court had deserted Mary's palace since her rec- 
 ognition of Elizabeth as her successor, and were seen passing 
 and repassing on the road to Hatfield, Of this desertion the 
 queen never complained ; but she had devoted friends round 
 her who paid her requisite attention. The hand of death was 
 on her throughout the 16th of November, but her previous 
 sufferings had blunted the usual agonies of dissolution, for she 
 
 Q* 
 
310 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1558. 
 
 was composed, and even cheerful. Between four and five in 
 the morning of November IV, the last rites of her religion, at 
 her desire, were celebrated in her chamber; and at the bene- 
 diction she raised her eyes to heaven, bowed, and expired. 
 These particulars of the last moments of Queen Mary were 
 given by an eye-witness. Cardinal Pole survived her ; being 
 informed of her departure, he expressed the greatest satisfac- 
 tion at his approaching dissolution, which followed in a few 
 hours. It was the custom for the body of an English sover- 
 eign to be buried in royal array, but Mary had earnestly en- 
 treated that no semblance of the crown, which had pressed so 
 heavily on her brow in life, might encumber her corpse in 
 death. She requested that she might be interred in the habit 
 of a poor reliffieuse. Her funeral took place on the 13th of 
 the same month, the last ever celebrated in Westminster 
 Abbey according to the Roman Catholic ritual. 
 
 Thus died Mary in the forty-second year of her age, and 
 after a short and unfortunate reign of five years. She was in- 
 terred on the north side of Henry VII.'s chapel. No memo- 
 rial exists of her, saving her participation in the following in- 
 scription, inscribed on two small black tablets erected by order 
 of James I., which point out the spot where her body reposes 
 with that of her sister Queen Elizabeth : 
 
 Regno consortes bt Maeia sorores 
 
 et uena nic obdor- • in spe resurrec- 
 
 -MiNius Elizabetha -TIGNIS. 
 
1533.] ELIZABETH. 37 1 
 
 Queen Elizabetli. Om.ament foi-med of bust of Queen Elizabeth, cut from a medal and 
 inclosed in a border of goldsmiths' work representing Lancaster, York, and Tudor roses. 
 
 ELIZABETH, 
 
 SECOND QUEEN EEGNANT OF ENGLAND AND IRELAND. 
 
 The most distinguished name in the annals of female royalty 
 is that of the great Elizabeth, the daughter of Henry VHI. 
 and his second queen, Anne Boleyn. She was born at Green- 
 wich Palace on Sunday, September 7, 1533, and her christen- 
 ing was solemnized on the following Wednesday with no less 
 }3omp than if she had been the son whose birth had been con- 
 fidently, anticipated by King Henry. As the royal succession 
 had been settled by Parliament on the female issue of Henry 
 and Anne Boleyn in default of males, Elizabeth was treated 
 as heiress presumptive to the crown. She was baptized in the 
 Church of the Grey Fi-iars at Greenwich. Cranmer, Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, the Marchioness of Dorset, and the 
 duchess-dowager of Norfolk were her sponsors. 
 
 The tragic event which rendered Elizabeth motherless in 
 lier third year, degraded her from her lofty position she had 
 occupied in the royal succession ; and, though she had a suite 
 of twelve ladies and gentlemen to wait npon her, her state 
 governess, Lady Bryan, writes to Lord Cromwell, Henry's 
 
372 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1537-154C. 
 
 prime minister, ati earnest request, " that my Lady Elizabeth's 
 grace might have some raiment, for she was entirely destitute 
 of every necessary article of clothing." Lady Bryan also men- 
 tions that Mr. Shelton, the chief official in the princess's house- 
 hold, desired her little grace to dine and sup in public at a 
 state table, a very improper arrangement, she considers, for 
 so young a child, as she would naturally wish to partake of 
 the rich, high-seasoned dishes, the fruit and the wine she 
 would see, and it would be impossible to preserve her health 
 if that were allowed. She speaks with great sympathy of the 
 pain Elizabeth endui*ed in cutting her teeth, Avhich, continues 
 Lady Bryan, " causeth me to suffer her to have her own will 
 more than I would if her teeth were well graft. I trust to 
 have her grace of another fashion than she now is, so as the 
 king shall have great comfort in her, for she is as toward a 
 child and as gentle of conditions as ever I knew any in my 
 life." Much of the future greatness of this princess may rea- 
 sonably be attributed to the judicious training of Lady Bryan. 
 
 The first appearance of Elizabeth in public was at the chris- 
 tening of her brother Edward in the chapel of Hampton Court, 
 where she carried the chrysom, a head-dress to be worn by the 
 infant prince after his immersion in the font. She was borne 
 in the arms of the Earl of Hertford, brother to the queen, her 
 step-mother, when they approached the font ; but in the re- 
 turning procession she was led back by her sister, the Princess 
 Mary, and her train was borne by Lady Herbert, the sister of 
 Katharine Parr. On the second anniversary of Prince Ed- 
 ward's birth, when the great nobles and ladies presented offer- 
 ings of silver, gold, and jewels to the infant heir of the realm, 
 Elizabeth gave a cambric shirt, prepared by her own hands. 
 She Avas then six years old. Thus early was this illustrious 
 lady instructed in the feminine acquirement of needlework. 
 
 Elizabeth having been very carefully trained, was permitted 
 by the king their father to have the honor of associating as a 
 playfellow and companion with the little prince her brother. 
 The early predilection of these children for their learning was 
 remarkable. As soon as it was light they called for their books, 
 so eager were they to commence their studies. They took no 
 less delight in the study of the Scriptures, to which their first 
 hours in the day were devoted. The rest of the morning, aft- 
 er breakfast, they were instructed in languages, sciences, and 
 moral learning ; and when the prince was called to out-door 
 exei-cises, she betook herself to her lute or viol, and when wea- 
 ried with that, employed her time in needlework. 
 
 Elizabeth's second step-mother, Anne of Clcves, was so 
 
1546-1547.] ELIZABETH. 373 
 
 charmed with the wit and endearing caresses of the cliild, that 
 she declared " it would have been greater happiness to have 
 had such a daughter than to have enjoyed the dignity of be- 
 ing Queen of England." Elizabeth found no less favor in the 
 eyes of the new queen, Katharine Howard, who, being first 
 cousin to Anne Boleyn, always gave her the place of honor 
 next her own person. After the tragic death of Queen Kath- 
 arine Howard, Henry made an ineffectual attempt to contract 
 Elizabeth to the Earl of Arran in marriage ; but she had the 
 good fortune to remain single, and complete a most superior 
 education, under the care of her accomplished fourth step- 
 mother. Queen Katharine Parr. When only in her twelfth 
 year, Elizabeth had the misfortune to offend her royal sire so 
 seriously that she was not permitted to appear at court or to 
 see him or the queen for more than a yeai-. The nature of 
 her offense still remains a profound mystery ; but she was in 
 such great disgrace that she was afraid to write to the king 
 even to ask his forgiveness. When he went to France, she 
 was not allowed to bid him farewell. Her amiable step-moth- 
 er. Queen Katharine Parr, did her utmost to effect a reconcil- 
 iation. Elizabeth, in a very earnest letter, thanks her for her 
 care of her health, but above all for having communicated her 
 most humble messages to the king; "for heretofore," contin- 
 ues she, " I have not dared to Avrite to him." Katharine's 
 good offices Avere effectual, for Henry in his next letter sends 
 his " hearty blessing to all his children." 
 
 Elizabeth meantime continued steadily to pursue her stud- 
 ies, and acquired a perfect knowledge of French, Italian, Span- 
 ish, German, Latin and Greek, so as to write and converse with 
 facility in each of these languages. She dedicated an elegant 
 translation from the Italian devotional treatise, entitled " The 
 Glass of the Sinful Soul," to Queen Katharine, an offering of 
 gratitude, no less than respect. During the last illness of the 
 king her father, Elizabeth resided chiefly at Hatfield House 
 with Prince Edward. In December the royal brother and 
 sister were separated ; the prince was removed to Hertford, 
 and Elizabeth to Enfield, on which occasion the prince was so 
 much afflicted that she Avrote to him, requesting him to be com- 
 forted, and to correspond with her. He wrote very tenderly 
 in reply, telling her " how much grieved he had been by her 
 departure, and that notlring could be more grateful to him than 
 her letters." Edward was brought to Enfield, January 30; 
 and the death ot the king their father was declared to the roy- 
 .al brother and sister by the Earl of Hertfoi'd. They received 
 . the news with a burst of passionate sorrow. The next day 
 
374 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1550. 
 
 they were separated. The young king proceeded to London ; 
 and Elizabeth was soon after consigned to the care of her wid- 
 owed step-mother, Katharine Parr, with whom she resided, and 
 pursued her studies with her governess, Mrs. Katharine Ashley, 
 and her learned preceptor Acham, who succeeded her first tu- 
 tor, William Grindal, in that office. 
 
 Elizabeth resided nearly a year after King Henry's death 
 with Queen Katharine at Chelsea, Hanworth, and other of the 
 dower palaces ; but the marriage of the queen with the lord 
 admiral. Sir Thomas Seymour, the king's uncle, and his pre- 
 suming to treat the young princess with unbecoming familiar- 
 ity, rendering it prudent for her to remove to a separate resi- 
 dence with her establishment, she withdrew to Cheshunt, and 
 afterward to Hatfield and Ashridge. 
 
 Queen Katharine died in her confinement, in the following 
 September, and the lord admiral soon after excited the anger 
 of the young king and jealousy of the protector Somerset by 
 endeavoring to induce Elizabeth to become his wife. Eliza- 
 beth, through the imprudence of Mrs. Ashley and others in 
 her household, was involved in much trouble on this account; 
 and she never fully recovered the favor of King Edward, who 
 was persuaded that the lord admiral had poisoned Queen 
 Katharine in order to marry Elizabeth, and that he meant to 
 usurp the throne. 
 
 Seymour was beheaded March 20, 1549. "Presumptuous 
 courtship of the Lady Elizabeth" formed one of the articles 
 brought against him. Elizabeth heard his fate with calmness, 
 but was ill, and remained in retirement for two years. Dur- 
 ing the rest of Edward's reign she practiced the strict rules 
 and adopted the plain dress of the reformers. She was at 
 Hatfield House with her establishment at the time of Ed- 
 ward's death, and remained there quietly while the vain at- 
 tem):)t to place Lady Jane Gray on the throne was made by 
 the Duke of Northumberland and SuflTolk. She went to meet 
 Queen Mary Avith a numerous train, and rode by her royal 
 sister's side at her triumphal entrance into London. The 
 youth and beauty of Elizabeth attracted universal admiration 
 then and at the coronation, where, during the cavalcade, she 
 rode in the same chariot with Anne of Cleves, and walked 
 next in the procession to the queen in the abbey. She was 
 also prayed for as the queen's sister. Great offense was, how- 
 ever, taken at her refusing to attend mass ; and many at- 
 tempts were made by misjudging partisans to draw her into 
 plots against the queen. She sought, and with great difficulty 
 obtained, leave to retire to her own house at Ashridge, in 
 
1554.] ELIZABETH. 375 
 
 Buckinghamshire. On the revolt of Wyatt, she was sum- 
 moned to return. Illness prevented her from obeying. The 
 queen then sent her own litter for her conveyance, three royal 
 physicians, and three commissioners, to bring her to White- 
 hall. Elizabeth's imcle, Lord William Howard, was at the 
 head of the deputation. 
 
 Elizabeth was really ill, and much alarmed, for it was only 
 four days after the execution of Lady Jane Gray. The com- 
 missioners were five days in performing the journey from Ash- 
 ridge, which was only five-and-twenty miles. She arrived in 
 London, February 24, 1554; and, after remaining three weeks 
 in anxious suspense at Whitehall, she Avas committed to the 
 Tower as a prisoner of state. The queen refused to see her ; 
 but as Elizabeth imj^lored for liberty to write to her majesty, 
 the Earl of Sussex consented, and she was so long about it 
 that it became necessary to defer her voyage till the next day, 
 which was Palm Sunday. Her letter had no efi\2Ct ; and she 
 was compelled to embark so early next morning that she had 
 to wait in the barge at the bridge for the tide a considerable 
 time in the rain. One of the noblemen oflered her his cloak, 
 but she dashed it haughtily away ; and, as she ascended the 
 steps at the Traitor's gate, exclaimed, "Here lands as true a 
 subject, being prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs. Before 
 thee, O God, I speak, having no other friend but Thee alone !" 
 Then she seated herself on a large stone, refusing to pass 
 through the gates. "Madam," said Sir John Bridges, the 
 lieutenant of the Tower, " you had best come out of the rain, 
 for you sit unwholesomely." " Better sit here than in a worse 
 place," replied she ; " for I know not whither you will bring 
 me." When at last she was induced to enter, she took her 
 book, and calling her weeping servants around her, she bade 
 them kneel with her, and unite with her in prayer. Her im- 
 prisonment lasted nearly two months, during which time her 
 life was in great peril. She excited great interest among the 
 children of the warders and other ofiicials in the Tower. 
 One little girl of three years old, when she was walking in the 
 garden, having found a bunch of keys, offered them to her, 
 and said, " You can unlock the gate now, and go abroad, for 
 here are the keys." There was also a sweet little boy of five 
 years old, in whose pretty prattling she took much delight, 
 and who daily brought her flowers. It was suspected that 
 letters were thus conveyed ; and the innocent child Avas ques- 
 tioned by some of the council, and forbidden to approach the 
 princess any more. He tried to make his way to her with his 
 usual offering of flowers the next day, but finding the door 
 
3^6 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1554. 
 
 locked, lie peeped through a hole and called to Elizabeth, 
 "Mistress, I can bring you no more flowers now." 
 
 Elizabeth was accused of i-eceiving treasonable correspond- 
 ence from Sir Thomas Wyatt, who had been in open rebellion 
 against the queen ; also from Sir James Crofts and her cousin 
 Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire. She was, on the whole, m 
 great peril, till the queen her sister thought proper to send 
 her to Woodstock Palace, under the care of Sir Henry Beding- 
 field. Lord WilHams of Tame, and a strong guard. She was 
 removed from the Tower in a barge to Richmond, where she 
 slept. May 19. She then proceeded in the queen's litter ; and, 
 encountering her own disbanded attendants, who were all 
 drawn up on the banks of the I'iver to take a last look of her, 
 she bade the gentleman who was nearest to her to tell the 
 rest that "she was going as a sheep to the slaughter." Next 
 night she slept at Windsor Castle. 
 
 In all the villages through Avhich she traveled, the country 
 people testified the most lively sympathy, and brought her 
 flowers and cakes in abundance, so that she was compelled to 
 request them at last to desist, for she was so encumbered with 
 these friendly ofterings that she had no room for more. She 
 was treated with great respect by Sir William and Lady 
 Dormer, at West AVyckham, and at Rieote, in Oxfordshire, by 
 Lord Williams of Tame; and his son-in-law presented her 
 with a brace of ])heasants the day after her arrival at Wood- 
 stock. But Sir Henry Bedingfield would not allow her to see 
 any persons but those who Avere appointed to attend on her. 
 She entreated to have her Latin books, that she might con- 
 tinue her studies, and contrived to send alms to the Ridley 
 Bishop of London, while he was imprisoned at Oxford in ex- 
 pectation of his death. Her imprisonment at Woodstock Avas 
 undoubtedly very strict, though she was allowed to take the 
 air in the gardens attended by Sir Henry Bedingfield ; but 
 one day she expressed a wish to change fortunes with a milk- 
 maid, whom she saw singing merrily over her pail in the park. 
 
 The copy of a letter written by Elizabeth to the queen hav- 
 ing been intercepted in a packet of letters addressed^ to the 
 French embassador, the queen was much ofiended, and refused 
 to receive any more letters from her sister. Elizabeth con- 
 tinued several weeks without pen or paper. At last she ob- 
 tained leave to write to the privy council, and Sir Henry 
 Bedingfield delivered to one of her ladies five pens, two sheets 
 of paper, and some ink ; but she ordered him to write what 
 she dictated, and privily kept one of the pens. No good re- 
 sult came of her sending the letter; but, as she complained of 
 
1558.] 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 3V7 
 
 illness, the queen sent two of her physicians and a surgeon, 
 who considered it necessary to bleed her, and Sir Henry Bed- 
 ingfield was present when the operation was performed. 
 Mary had been married to Philip II. for some months, and at 
 last was induced to send for Elizabeth to Hampton Court, 
 where an amicable meeting took place. Elizabeth spent a 
 splendid Christmas at Hampton Court with the royal pair ; 
 and great persuasions were used to induce her to marry Prince 
 Philibert of Savoy, but she firmly refused to marry any one. 
 She enjoyed the pleasure of being present at all the fetes and 
 tournaments in honor of the queen's mari'iage. The queen 
 finally gave Elizabeth leave to reside at Hatfield House under 
 the care of Sir Thomas Pope, with whom she lived on very 
 friendly terms. She was permitted to surround herself with 
 all her old servants and masters who had attended her in King 
 Edward's reign. Here she received several offers of marriage, 
 which she declined, and remained quietly till it pleased God to 
 call her to the throne. 
 
 Gold real. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Elizabeth's accession to the crown of England and Ire- 
 land, in consequence of Queen Mary's death, was announced 
 on the 17th of November by a deputation from the privy 
 covmcil, who came to Hatfield to salute her as queen. She 
 appeared overpowered for a moment, but sinking on her knees, 
 exclaimed, " It is the Lord's doing : it is marvelous in our 
 eyes !" She adopted this sentence in Latin for her gold coins 
 and for her silver — " I have chosen God for my helper." Her 
 
3V8 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1558. 
 
 solemn recognition as sovereign had been made by Parliament 
 that morning in Westminster Hall, Her proclamation had 
 been received with transports of joy in London. The popu- 
 lace forgot the terrible pestilence then ravaging England, and 
 thought of nothing but their young blooming queen. 
 
 Elizabeth commenced her progress to the metropolis No- 
 vem"ber 23, attended by an immense concourse of people, who 
 poured out to welcome her. On entering the Tower she said 
 to those about her, " Some have fallen from being princes in 
 this land to be prisoners in this place. I am raised from be- 
 ing prisoner in this i)lace to be a, prince of this land; sol 
 must yield myself thankful to God and merciful to man, in re- 
 membrance of the same." The service of the Church of Rome 
 was discontinued in the chapel royal after Christmas Day. 
 She was crowned by Oglethorpe, Bishop of Carlisle, on the 
 15th of January, with great splendor. The morning after her 
 coronation, as she was proceeding to the chapel, one of her 
 courtiers, with a loud voice, requested that four or five prison- 
 ers might be released. These, in reply to her majesty's in- 
 quiry, he declared to be " the four evangelists, and the apostle 
 St. Paul, who had been so long shut up in an unknown tongue 
 that they were unable to converse with the people." " It is 
 best," said the queen, " to inquire of them whether they ap- 
 prove of being released or not." The inquiry was soon after 
 debated in the convocation, and the result was that a new 
 translation was immediately commanded for general use. 
 Her charge to her judges, given about the same time, is noble 
 in the simplicity of its language: "Have a care over my peo- 
 ple. You have my people — do you that which I ought to do. 
 They are my people. Every man oppresseth and spoileth 
 them without mercy. They can not revenge their quarrel, 
 nor help themselves. See unto them — see unto them, for 
 they are my charge. I charge you even as God has charged 
 me — I care not for myself; my life is not dear to me. My 
 care is for my people. I pray God, whoever succeedeth me, be 
 as careful as I am." The learned Dr. Parker w^as appointed 
 Archbishop of Canterbury by the queen. Under his care the 
 liturgy of the Church of England was established in its pres- 
 ent form. 
 
 Six months' anxious cares of state and reformation in re- 
 ligion were succeeded by a brilliant succession of pleasure, 
 fetes, games, and tournaments, in Greenwich Park. The 
 queen's hand was sought in marriage by all the royal bache- 
 lors and widowers in Europe, but wtihout success, for Eliza- 
 beth declared she was wedded to her people. She was wooed 
 
155 8- 1560. J ELIZABETH. 379 
 
 by Philip II. of Spain, her royal sister's widower, but slie would 
 not listen to his proposals. She concluded a peace with 
 France in the first summer of her reign, and treated the am- 
 bassadors who came to sign it Avith great splendor and festiv- 
 ity. King Henry II. of France, within one month after this 
 solemn treaty was signed, made his young daughter-in-law, 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, assume the arms and title of Queen of 
 England at a tournament at Paris. The death of that able 
 sovereign, who was slain by a splinter of Count Montgome- 
 ry's lance, wounding him while tilting on that very occasion, 
 delivered Elizabeth from her most formidable enemy, and left 
 her opportunity, by intriguing with Mary's disloyal subjects 
 in Scotland, to avenge herself amply for the aftVont that had 
 been given her. Mary and Francis never repeated it, but it 
 was never forgiven by Elizabeth. 
 
 Elizabeth's great favorite was Lord Robert Dudley, son of 
 the beheaded Duke of Northumberland, and brother of Lord 
 Guildford Dudley. He was the same age as the queen, born in 
 the same hour, and was prisoner in the Tower at the time of her 
 confinement there. His wife, Amy Robsart, a wealthy heiress, 
 Avhom he had married with great pomp in the reign of Edward 
 VI., he resolutely kept in retirement. He was loaded with 
 wealth and preferments by the queen ; and it was supposed 
 that she would have married him if he had not been the hus- 
 band of another. The death of poor Lady Robert Duelley 
 occurred under very suspicious circumstances, which formed 
 a serious objection to his marriage with the queen. 
 
 The first pair of knitted silk stockings or hose ever made in 
 England was presented to Queen Elizabeth for a New Year's 
 gift, 15G0, by her silk-woman. The queen, who had hitherto 
 worn hose made of cloth, was highly pleased with this elegant 
 acquisition made to her wardrobe, and never used any otlier. 
 The pattern originally came from Spain. 
 
 Elizabeth very early assumed the proud position of the pro- 
 tectress of the Reformed Church in Europe ; and supplied both 
 the French Huguenots and Flemish Protestants with the 
 means of resisting their oppressors. She restored the coinage 
 to its proper value both in England and Ireland. This mighty 
 and beneficial chan'ge was effected by the enlightened policy 
 of Elizabeth without causing the slightest inconvenience or 
 distress to individuals. The old money was called in, every 
 person receiving the nominal value of the base coin in the new 
 sterling money, and the government bore the loss, which was 
 of course very heavy, but the people were satisfied, and their 
 confidence in the good faith and honor of the crown richly 
 
380 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1540. 
 
 repaid the sovereign for the sacrifice. Her gokl coins were 
 peculiarly beautiful ; they were sovereigns, half-sovereigns, 
 nobles, half-nobles, angels, half-angels, angels and a half, and 
 three angels, crowns, and half-crowns. Her silver money 
 comprised crowns, half-crowns, shillings, sixpences, groats, 
 threepences, twopences, pennies, half-pennies, and farthings : 
 no copper money was coined before the reign of James I. 
 The queen came to the Tower by water, July 10, to visit her 
 mints, on which occasion she coined several pieces of gold 
 with her own hand, and gave them away to those about her. 
 Her majesty set forth on her progress into Suffolk on the 18th 
 of that month. All the crafts of London were ranged in their 
 liveries as far as Whitechapel to bid her farewell. 
 
 While she was sojourning at Ipswich the stolen marriage of 
 her cousin. Lady Katharine Gray, sister to the unfortunate 
 Lady Jane Gray, to the Earl of Hertford was discovered, and 
 Lady Katharine was sent for life-long imprisonment to the 
 Tower, where she gave birth to a fair young son. Her hus- 
 band was soon after arrested and incarcerated in a separate 
 prison lodging. He contrived to visit his wedded love in her 
 distress, and a second son was born to them in the Tower, to 
 tlie great wrath of the queen, who fined the earl 20,000/., and 
 kept poor Lady Katharine a close prisoner till she died. The 
 queen also confined the Lady Mary Gray as long as she lived, 
 ^for contracting a mean marriage without her leave. 
 
 When the young widowed Queen of Scots, after the death 
 of her royal consort, Francis H. of France, was about to re- 
 turn to reign in Scotland, she solicited Elizabeth to grant her 
 a safe conduct for passing the sea, and to enable her to land 
 in England, in case of encountering rough weather on the 
 usually stormy voyage from France to Scotland. Elizabeth 
 returned a peremptory refusal in the rudest terms, in so loud 
 a voice that it was heard by every one in the presence-cham- 
 ber, stating as the reason for this incivility that the Queen of 
 Scots had not ratified the treaty of Edinburgh, Avhich had been 
 made between her subjects and Elizabeth, without her assent. 
 
 The Queen of Scots observed to the English ambassador, in 
 comment on his sovereign's discourteous refusal of her request, 
 " There is nothing that doth more grieve me than that I did 
 so forget myself as to have asked her a favor which I could 
 well have done without ; and by the grace of God I will re- 
 turn without her leave. If she choose she may have me for a 
 loving kinswoman and useful neighbor, for I am not going to 
 practice against her with her subjects as she has done with 
 mine. She says I am young, and lack experience. I confess I 
 
1561-1564.] ELIZABETH. 381 
 
 am youngei' than she is, yet I know how to carry myself lov- 
 ingly and justly with my friends ; and, not to cast any word 
 against her unworthy of a queen and a kinswoman, and by 
 her permission, I am as much a queen as herself, and carry 
 my courage as high as she knows how to do." Elizabeth sent 
 an English squadron into the channel to intercept Queen Mary 
 on her homeward voyage ; but Mary's galley passed by in the 
 fog, and they only captured the vessel with her horses and their 
 caparisons, and the Earl of Eglinton, who was on board. 
 Finding their mistake, they relinquished their prey. Mary ac- 
 cepted Elizabeth's apology, and endeavored to establish her- 
 self on amicable terms with her. Mary was importunate in 
 her demands to be acknowledged heiress pi'esumptive of the 
 realm, in case Elizabeth died without children; but nothing 
 could induce Elizabeth to concede that point. She could not 
 do so, she said, " without conceiving a dislike to Mary ; for 
 how could she love any one whose interest it was to wish her 
 dead ?" 
 
 Elizabeth was invited by her prime minister. Sir William 
 Cecil, the chancellor of that univei'sity, to visit Cambridge, in 
 August, 1564. Her majesty graciously complied, and was met 
 by the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Sussex, and the Bishop 
 of Ely, on the 5th of August, and conducted toward the town. 
 The mayor and corporation of Cambridge met her majesty a 
 little above Newnham, and there alighted and performed their 
 devoir. The recorder made an oration in English, and the 
 mayor delivered his mace with a fair standing cup, with twenty 
 gold angels in it. The queen gently returned the mace, and 
 gave the cup with the angels to one of her men. She and 
 her ladies changed their horses at Newnham Mills, and then 
 rode into Cambridge, the trumpets with solemn blasts announc- 
 ing her approach. She was received at Queen's College. Her 
 majesty alone remained on horseback during all the ceremo- 
 nies, while Sir William Cecil welcomed her kneeling, and de- 
 livered all the staves into her own hands, which were more 
 than she could hold. She merrily redelivered them, and de- 
 sired the magistrates to minister justice uprightly, or she 
 should take it upon herself, adding facetiously, " that although 
 their chancellor was lame, having a sore leg, yet she trusted 
 justice did not halt." The queen and her ladies were lodged 
 in King's College. The next day, being Sunday, she attended 
 prayers and sermon there, and in the evening the performance 
 of a classical play, the " Aulularia," of Plautus, for which a 
 platform was erected in King's College chapel. 
 
 The next day she attended the disputatious in St. Mary's 
 
382 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [15G5-15G6. 
 
 Church, and at nine in the evening another play called " Dido." 
 The following evening the entertainment at King's ended with 
 an English play called " Ezechias." The day before she left 
 Cambridge she was prevailed on to address the university 
 in Latin, which she did in a very sensible speech. 
 
 The report that her former suitor, the Archduke Charles, had 
 transferred his addresses to the Queen of Scots, filled Elizabeth's 
 mind with jealous displeasure; and she gave Mary to under- 
 stand that, unless she married with her approbation, she should 
 lose the chance of succeeding to the ci'own of England. Mary 
 suffered herself to be persuaded to give up the Archduke 
 Charles, to please Elizabeth, who after amusing her for many 
 months, intimated that the only pei'son she could consent to her 
 marrying was an English nobleman ; and when pressed to de- 
 clare who it was, electrified both courts by naming her own 
 favorite. Lord Robert Dudley. Queen Mary, though astonish- 
 ed and displeased, kept her temper, but finally married her 
 cousin, Lord Darnley, without asking Elizabeth's leave. A 
 rebellion of the leaders of the English party in Scotland, paid 
 and fomented by Elizabeth, followed. Mary triumphed over her 
 foes, and drove them out of her realm into England. The per- 
 fidy of her ungrateful husband, in conspiring with these un- 
 scrupulous traitors for the assassination of Mary's secretary in 
 her presence, at a time when her health required peculiar care, 
 well nigh cost her her life, but was finally overcome by her wis- 
 dom and courage, Mary and Darnley escaped froni tlie mur- 
 derous hands of the confederates, and Mary re-established her- 
 self on her throne, and gave birth to a fair son. 
 
 Sir James Melville was immediately dispatched to England 
 by Queen Mary to announce this event, and to invite Queen 
 Elizabeth to stand godmother to the infant. Elizabeth was 
 dancing merrily, after supper, in the hall of the palace at 
 Greenwich, when Cecil, who had hastened hither before the 
 ambassador in order to communicate the news, advanced and 
 whispered it in her ear. The mirth and music ceased, for 
 the queen, unable to conceal her vexation, sat down ; and 
 when her ladies inquired "What ailed her grace?" exclaimed, 
 " The Queen of Scots has a fair young son, and I am but a 
 barren stock." 
 
 On being advised to show a glad countenance next day, 
 when the ambassador arrived, she quite overacted her part, 
 and told him "The joyful news he brought had quite recover- 
 ed her from an illness that had lasted fifteen days." She ac- 
 cepted the oftice of godmother, and promised to send a font of 
 gold for a christening gift, worth 1000^. She was as good as 
 
156G-1567.] ELIZABETH. 383 
 
 her word, but was the cause of Mary's husband not appearing 
 at the christening of his royal infant, by ordering her ambas- 
 sador to refuse to acknowledge his title of King of Scotland. 
 
 Elizabeth visited Oxford in August 30, 1566. Here her maj- 
 esty was feted and entertained for seven successive days. The 
 very walls were papered with verses in honor of her visit. 
 The commissary and proctors presented her majesty with six 
 pairs of very fine gloves, and to each of the noblemen and of- 
 ficers of her household one or two pairs apiece. These offer- 
 ings were veiy graciously accepted. From Oxford Elizabeth 
 proceeded to Ricote, the seat of Sir Henry Norris, and then 
 returned to London to await the meeting of Pai'liament which, 
 after six lengthened prorogations, she had reluctantly consent- 
 ed to meet. 
 
 Both houses united in addressing her on the subjects most 
 distasteful to her — her marriage and the settlement of the 
 royal succession. She heai'd them with fierce impatience, 
 bade them " attend to their own duties, and she would per- 
 form hers." They refused to vote her any supplies till she 
 should think proper to comply with the wishes of the nation 
 by settling the succession. She haughtily replied "that she 
 did not choose her grave should be dug while she was yet 
 alive ; and that the commons had treated her as they durst 
 not have treated her father ;" adding, with infinite scorn, 
 " that the lords might pass a similar vote, if they pleased, but 
 their votes were but empty breath without her royal assent." 
 This despotic language did not suit the temper of the times, 
 and was followed by the first serious censure of the conduct 
 of the sovereign that had been heard for centuries in the na- 
 tional senate ; but Elizabeth carried her own point by saying 
 that " she considered money in her subjects' purses Avas as 
 good as if in her own exchequer." This popular sentiment 
 procured her all the supplies she required. 
 
 The mysterious assassination of the consort of Mary, Queen 
 of Scots, which Avas perpetrated February 9, 1567, under cir- 
 cumstances artfully qontrived by those who, ever since his 
 engagement to their queen, had sought his life, to throw the 
 suspicion of the crime on her, being followed by her forced 
 marriage to the Earl of Bothwell, one of the conspirators 
 for the murder, produced a revohition in Scotland. The 
 queen threw hei'self into the hands of the rebel lords, under 
 promise of their returning to their duty ; but they loaded 
 her with insults, incarcerated her in Lochleven Castle, and 
 compelled her to abdicate in favor of her infant son, whom 
 they crowned King of Scotland, that the Earl of Murray, her 
 
384 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1569 1570. 
 
 illegitimate brother, might exercise the power of the realm in 
 the name of the unconscious babe. 
 
 Through the assistance of a brave, noble-minded boy, 
 named Willie Douglas, who rowed her to the land, the cap- 
 tive queen effected her escape from Lochleven Castle, and 
 rode to Hamilton, where her friends rallied round her stand- 
 ard ; but she was defeated at the battle of Langside, and fled 
 to Dundrennan Abbey, where she took the fatal resolution of 
 coming to England. Elizabeth had once sent her a diamond 
 ring in the form of a heart, as a pledge of friendship, promis- 
 ing that, if ever in need of assistance, if she returned it to her 
 she should receive effectual help ; and Mary, placing implicit 
 faith on this promise, dispatched her faithful equerry, Sir John 
 Beton, with the ring, and a hurried letter reminding Eliza- 
 beth of her promise; and, without waitnig for an answer, 
 embarked the next day at the Abbeyburnfoot in a common 
 fishing-boat, with the few faithful friends who had escaped 
 with her from the lost battle, crossed the Frith of Sol way on 
 the 16th of May, and landed at Workington. She was hon- 
 orably welcomed and hospitably treated by Sir Henry Cui-- 
 wen, at Workington Hall. The same day she sent an elo- 
 quent letter to Elizabeth, requesting to be admitted to her 
 presence, and informing her of the destitute condition in 
 which she had arrived. She was immediately removed to 
 Carlisle and constituted a prisoner. 
 
 Elizabeth was guilty of the meanness of purchasing, at a 
 third of its value, Mary's magnificent set of pearls, which the 
 regent Murray had sent into England to be sold for his own 
 benefit. Mary submitted the differences between herself and 
 the rebel lords to Elizabeth's arbitration. The rebel lords 
 produced eight letters and several poems, which they alleged 
 had been written by Mary to Both well, but they were full 
 of contradictions and absurdities ; and Elizabeth, after she 
 had considered the evidences, declared " she had seen nothing 
 that could make her form a bad opinion of the Queen of 
 Scots." 
 
 So convinced was Elizabeth's cousin, the Duke of Norfolk, 
 of the innocence of Mary Queen of Scots, that he wished to 
 marry her, for which ofi'ense he was arrested and imprisoned 
 in the Tower. The northern rebellion broke out in Novem- 
 ber, 1569, under the Earls of Northumberland and West- 
 moreland, but was soon suppressed by the Earl of Sussex ; it 
 was followed by more than eight hundred executions. Early 
 in the spring of 1570 Elizabetli was excommunicated by Pope 
 Pius V. A copy of the papal anathema was fixed on the gate 
 
1571. J ELIZABETH. 385 
 
 of the Bishop of Loudon's palace, at St. Paul's, by Felton, a 
 rich Roman Catholic gentleman, for which offense he was put 
 to death. The plague broke out in the Tower in the sum- 
 mei*, so Elizabeth released the Duke of Norfolk, on his prom- 
 ising to give up all correspondence with the Queen of Scots. 
 He immediately broke his word, and was beheaded in 1572. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 In the meantime Elizabeth received offers of marriage from 
 the young King of France, Charles IX., and his brother Henry, 
 Duke d'Anjou, but neither came to any effect. One of the 
 proudest days of her queenly life was the 23d of January, 1571, 
 when she came in state into the city of London, to dine with 
 the princely merchant. Sir Thomas Gresham, who had built 
 the Bourse or Royal Exchange at his own expense, and invited 
 her majesty to open it the evening of the 23d. The whole 
 of the building was splendidly illuminated, and furnished 
 with goods and merchandise. Sir Thomas Gresham having let 
 the shops rent-free for a year to those who would fit them up 
 and light them with wax-lights that evening, in honor of the 
 queen's visit. Every thing went off brilliantly, and the queen 
 was much pleased. 
 
 The Emperor of Germany offered his eldest son, the Arcli- 
 duke Rodolph, to Elizabeth for a consort, and she gave an en- 
 couraging reply, but the negotiation proved ineffectual. Henry 
 of Navarre, the champion of Protestantism, proposed himself 
 to her, but she declined his suit. There was then a fresh at- 
 tempt on the part of the queen-mother of France to renew 
 the treaty for the alliance of the Duke d'Anjou, but without 
 success ; for he rudely told his associates that " he would not 
 marry the Queen of England, for she was not only an old crea- 
 ture, but iiad a sore leg." 
 
 When Elizabeth heard of this insulting observation she 
 broke off the negotiation, and consented to receive the address- 
 es of his younger brother Francis, Duke d'Alenyon, an ugly, 
 diminutive prince, very much scarred with the small-pox. The 
 treaty for her marriage with this unsuitable wooer occupied 
 more than ten years. The execution of the Duke of Norfolk 
 took place June 2, 1572, and was followed by a series of^fetes, 
 and entertainments, to Avelcome the arrival of the Duke de 
 Montmorenci and other commissioners, to complete a treaty 
 
886 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND, 
 
 [1572. 
 
 of perpetual peace and alliance between France and England. 
 The treaty was solemnly ratified by Elizabeth, who then in- 
 vested Moutmorenci with the order of the Garter, received a 
 first love-letter from her small suitor, the Duke d'Alengon, 
 with apparent satisfaction, and made particular inquiries into 
 his personal defects. "These," the ambassadors assured her 
 majesty, "had been greatly exaggerated by report, and that 
 there was a physician who could remove all the scars of the 
 small-pox from his countenance, which but for them would 
 have been very handsome." His royal mother, Catharine de 
 Medicis, i*equested that the beautifying prescription might be 
 applied m the first instance on a page. 
 
 Medal of Pope Gregory XIII., commemorating the massacre of St. Bartholomew. 
 
 The news of the massacre of St. Bartholomew interrupted 
 the matrimonial treaty ; for the idea of Elizabeth marrying 
 the son of Catharine de Medicis was very distasteful to her 
 subjects ; but she consented to stand godmother to the new- 
 born daughter of Charles IX. without the slightest scruple, 
 and presented the babe with a christening font of gold. She 
 chose to be represented by a male proxy on this occasion. The 
 person whom she deputed to act in that capacity Avas the Earl 
 of Worcester, who, with the gold font and a rich freight of 
 christening presents, narrowly escaped falling into the hands 
 of the Rochelle pirates on the voyage. 
 
 Elizabeth's real greatness was as a peace sovereign. Her 
 admirable talents for government would have established a 
 golden age in England, if she had been contented to employ 
 her energies wholly as a domestic civilizer in her own realm, 
 instead of interfering in the disputes between foreign princes 
 and their subjects; which crooked policy entangled her in ex- 
 pensive foreign wars, and rendered the imposition of heavy 
 taxes on her own people necessary. The Scottish rebel lords, 
 whom she pensioned, devoured a large portion of English gold, 
 and induced her to perform the ungracious ofiice of jailer to 
 
1575-1579.] ELIZABETH. 387 
 
 their queen — an office which entailed eighteen years of internal 
 discord on her reahii, planted the first thorns in her diadem, 
 and sullied the brightness of her annals, 
 
 EHzabeth was magnificently entertained at Kenilworth by 
 her favorite, the Earl of Leicester, from the 9th till the 2Vth 
 of July, 1575, at Kenilworth Castle, together with all her court 
 and the French ambassador. All the clocks were stopped on 
 her arrival. A continuous course of costly pageants, concerts, 
 plays, and festivities took place every day while she remained ; 
 also bear-baiting and hunting, in which unfeminine amuse- 
 ments she greatly delighted. From this series of recreations 
 EHzabeth was roused by the appeals that were addressed to 
 her by the oppressed Protestants in the Low Countries, whose 
 deputies, headed by St. Aldegonde, came over to England to 
 implore her to accept the sovereignty of their states. She de- 
 clined this flattering ofier, but assisted them in maintaining 
 their independence. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth was attacked with severe chronic tooth- 
 ache, which hung upon her till the year 1579. Her council 
 advised her to send for a foreign physician named John An- 
 thony Fenatus, then in London, who had relieved many per- 
 sons of that agonizing pain. They, however, insisted on his 
 writing down his prescription, that they might be informed 
 what remedies he intended to use. He did so, but stated that 
 if the tooth were decayed the only effectual cure would be ex- 
 tracting it. The queen could not be persuaded to undergo 
 the operation till Aylmer, Bishop of London, to encourage her, 
 said, "Though I am an old man, and have not many teeth to 
 spare, I will sit down and have one extracted, to convince 
 your majesty that it is a very trifling operation, and easy to be 
 borne." He did so in the queen's presence, who was then in- 
 duced to allow her tooth to be drawn, and was relieved of her 
 pain. 
 
 The Duke d'A^enyon, who, since the accession of his brother 
 Henry to the throne of France, had succeeded to the title of 
 Duke d'Anjou, finding that his envoys could not persuade 
 Elizabeth to give a favorable answer to his suit, as she declared 
 nothing should induce her to marry a man whom she had nev- 
 er seen, determined to deprive her of that excuse. He crossed 
 the sea in disguise, attended by only two persons, presented 
 himself at the gates of Greenwich Palace, and requested per- 
 mission to thi'ow himself at her feet. Elizabeth gave him a 
 favorable reception. She thought his ugliness had been much 
 exaggerated, and was atoned for by his agreeable manners. He 
 was the only one in her numerous catalogue of royal lovers who 
 
388 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1682. 
 
 had ventured to present himself before her to plead his suit in 
 person, and the impression made was apparently such as to 
 justify his hopes of success. Elizabeth's ministers were uneasy 
 at his visit, and Sir Christopher Hatton, her handsome vice- 
 chamberlain, was positively jealous of the ugly, diminutive 
 French prince. Sir Philip Sidney, the most elegant and ac- 
 complished of her courtiers, wrote earnestly, after the depart- 
 ure of her adventurous wooer, to dissuade her from contracting 
 so unsuitable an alliance. 
 
 When the marriage was discussed in council, the majority 
 objected to it on account of disparity of age, her majesty being 
 forty-six years old, and the prince only twenty-three. Nothing 
 could be more unpopular than the prospect of the \mion. Eliz- 
 abeth forbade any allusion to the subject in the pulpits; and 
 punished a bencher of Lincoln's Inn, named Stubbs, with the 
 loss of his right hand, a heavy fine, and a long confinement in 
 the Tower, for having written against it. She did not consid- 
 er it prudent to proceed with the negotiations publicly at this 
 period ; but when the sovereignty of the Low Countries was 
 conferred on the duke, she granted him a subsidy of 100,000 
 crowns. She soon after received an embassy-extraordinary 
 from France to press the conclusion of the marriage; and mat- 
 ters proceeded so far that all the articles were drawn up and 
 approved by Elizabeth, and accepted by the prince. He was 
 to have the free exercise of his religion, and in case of her 
 death, to become guardian of any children that might be born 
 to them, and to bear the title of king-dowager of England. 
 
 Early in November, 1582, he arrived in England, after 
 achieving a successful military exploit in compelling the Prince 
 of Parma to raise the siege of Cambray. Elizabeth gave him 
 a most honorable and loving reception. On the anniversary 
 of her coronation, which, as usual, was celebrated with great 
 pomp, she, in the j^resence of her court and all the foreign am- 
 bassadors, placed a ring on his finger, which was regarded by 
 all present as a pledge of her intention to become his wife; but 
 her ministers were determined«to prevent her from so great an 
 act of folly. She had commanded a paper, prescribing the rites 
 and ceremonials to be used at the marriage, to be prepared. 
 This paper was actually drawn up and subscribed by herself 
 and the prince ; but the same evening when she retired to her 
 bedroom, her ladies all threw themselves at her feet, with a 
 concert of lamentations, and besought her to remember her sis- 
 ter Queen Mary's wedded misery, and not to throw herself 
 away on a youthful husband, by whom she would probably be 
 despised and forsaken. They also implored her "not to sully 
 
1583.] ELIZABETH. 389 
 
 Jier glory as a Protestant Queen by vowing obedience to a 
 Roman Catholic prince." In the morning she sent for the duke. 
 He found her pale, and in tears. She communicated the cause 
 of her distress, and she attributed it "to a struggle between 
 love and duty, which forbade her to become his wife." The 
 duke retired in great disorder to his chamber, and plucking the 
 recently bestowed ring from his finger, flung it passionately on 
 the ground, exclaiming at the same time that " the women of 
 Kr'.gTand were as variable as their climate." He then declared 
 his intention to depart, but Elizabeth entreated him to remain, 
 for "it was her intention to marry him at a more auspicious 
 season." She actually induced him to tarry three months long- 
 er. At last his new subjects in the Low Countries became so 
 impatient of his absence that he was forced to return. The 
 queen accompanied him as far as Canterbury, and would have 
 gone on to Sandwich only he would not permit it. He left 
 England the 8th of February, 1583, and soon got into a laby- 
 rinth of difticulties by the crooked line of politics he adopted. 
 He deserted his new subjects, and fled to France, where he died 
 in Chateaix Thiery, June 10,1583. Elizabeth expresssed great 
 sorrow for his death ; and there is reason to believe she would 
 have married him if her ministers would have allowed her. 
 
 She now bestowed distinguishing fovor on Walter Raleigh, 
 who was a connection of her former governess, Mrs. Ashley, 
 by whom he was introduced to her powerful patronage. Eliz- 
 abeth was charmed with the wit, genius, and graceful bearing 
 of Raleigh, and made him captain of her guards. One day a 
 heavy shower had fallen before her majesty, attended by her 
 ladies and state officers, set forth on her daily walk. After a 
 while she came to a large slough, which intercepted her prog- 
 ress ; she paused to consider the best way of crossing it to 
 avoid defiling her feet, when Raleigh, who was in attendance, 
 divested himself of the new plush cloak which he had that 
 morning put on for the first time, and gallantly spread it in the 
 mud before her majesty. The queen trod gently over this 
 splendid foot-cloth, and rewarded him with many suits for the 
 courteous sacrifice of his handsome cloak. 
 
 One day, perceiving the queen observed him while standing 
 in the window, he wrote with the point of a diamond on the 
 glass — 
 
 "Fain would I climb, but that I fear to fall." 
 
 The queen drew near, and condescended to add the following 
 oracular line, which composed a halting rhyme — 
 
 " If thv heart fail thee, do not climb at all." 
 
390 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1583. 
 
 She soon after bestowed a shower of preferments upon Raleigh, 
 so as to excite the jealousy of all her old favorites, especially 
 Sir Christopher Hatton. Raleigh was a great maritime voy- 
 ager. The first possession in the New World was discovered 
 by him, and, in compliment to the maiden queen, named Vir- 
 ginia. It was from this coast that tobacco was introduced 
 into England by him. Raleigh's servant once entering his 
 study with a foaming tankard of ale, saw Sir Walter for the 
 first time with a lighted pipe in his mouth, and enveloped in 
 the clouds of smoke he was pufiing forth ; the simple fellow, 
 who had never before witnessed any thing of the kind, imag- 
 ining that his master was the victim of an internal conflagra- 
 tion, flung the tankard of ale in his face to extinguish the com- 
 bustion, then ran down stairs, and alarmed the house with his 
 dismal outcries that his master was on fire, and would be 
 burned to ashes if they did not hasten to his aid. Notwith- 
 standing the formidable appearance of England's first smoker 
 to the eyes of the uninitiated, the practice was introduced at 
 court, and even tolerated by the queen. One day Raleigh as- 
 sured her he could even tell her majesty what the smoke 
 weighed of every pipeful of tobacco he consumed. Elizabeth 
 laid a considerable wager that it was impossible, but Raleigh 
 demonstrated the fact by weighing the tobacco before he put 
 it in his pipe, and the ashes after he had smoked it, and told 
 her the deficiency was what had evaporated in the smoke. 
 The queen admitted that this conclusion was correct, but mer- 
 rily observed, when she paid the bet, " that she knew of many 
 persons who had turned their gold into smoke, but that he 
 was the first one who had turned smoke into gold." Sir Wal- 
 ter Raleigh greatly oflfended her by marrying one of her fair 
 maids of honor unknown to her, for which oflense she sent 
 him to the Tower, where he underwent a long imprisonment. 
 Elizabeth did not like to see any of her maids of honor very 
 nicely dressed. The Lady Mary Howard, one of these court- 
 ly damsels, was nearly related to her majesty, very pretty, and 
 much admired. She appeared one day in a magnificent velvet 
 dress with a rich border decorated with gold and pearls, which 
 moved many to envy, and displeased the queen, who thought 
 it exceeded her own. One day her majesty sent for it private- 
 ly, put it on, and came forth among her ladies arrayed in it ; 
 but as Lady Mary Howard was a little woman, and the queen 
 of a stately figure and commanding height, the dress was not 
 long enough. However, she asked her ladies one by one how 
 they liked her new-fancied suit. All made flattering answers : 
 at last she asked the ric;ht owner if it were not too short to be 
 
1584.J 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 391 
 
 becoming, to which Lady Mary agreed, " Why then," re- 
 torted the queen, " if it become not me as being too short, it 
 shall never become thee as being too fine." The poor lady, 
 after this sharp rebuke, laid up her rich vestment, and never 
 ventured to wear it again during Elizabeth's life. 
 
 Queen Mary of Scotland. From a painting by Zuccbero. 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 The unjust detention of Mary Queen of Scots in an English 
 prison proved a great source of trouble to Queen Elizabeth, as 
 the itomau Catholics were always forming plots to liberate 
 
392 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1585. 
 
 her and place her on the throne, to which she was the next 
 heir. Among those who, by their sympathy for the captive 
 Queen of Scots, rendered themselves objects of suspicion to 
 Elizabeth and her ministers, were Philip Howard, Earl of 
 Arundel, and his countess. He was the son of the beheaded 
 Duke of Norfolk, and grandson of Henry Fitzallan, Earl of 
 Arundel, who had rendered Elizabeth great service in her sis- 
 ter's reign during her imprisonment in the Tower. Earl 
 Philip inherited his wealth and honors as the son of the heir- 
 ess of Arundel. He had been brought up a Protestant, and 
 married in his boyhood to the eldest daughter and co-heiress 
 of Lord Dacre of Gillsland. Her he neglected while running 
 a career of dissipation at court, paying the queen so much 
 flattering attention that he was supjiosed to be in love with 
 her ; but at last, piqued at several slights that had been put 
 on him, he retired into the country, and became attached to 
 his neglected wife, Mho had been induceti by his late grand- 
 father, with whom she lived during her husband's desertion, 
 to become a Roman Catholic. She was in consequence pre- 
 sented for recusancy, and confined by the queen's warrant to 
 the house of Sir Thomas Shirley for a year. Arundel was 
 highly offended at the harsh treatment of his wife, and being 
 deprived of her society, which he had too late learned to val- 
 ue. He was much courted to embrace the party of the Queen 
 of Scots, but determined to avoid all danger of doing so by 
 quitting the realm. Before he could complete his prepara- 
 tions Elizabeth sent word that she meant to honor him with 
 a visit at Arundel House. She came with a splendid party, 
 and behaved very graciously, but on departing told him to 
 consider himself a prisoner in his own house. Finally, on his 
 attempting to leave the kingdom, he was arrested, fined 10,000/. 
 for attem])ting to quit England without permission, and was 
 condemned to imprisonment during the ^queen's pleasm-e. 
 Nothing less than a life-long term of incarceration would sat- 
 isfy Elizabeth. The unfortunate countess was deprived of her 
 goods and otherwise cruelly persecuted. 
 
 The sovereignty of the Low Countries was again offered to 
 Elizabeth by the deputies of the states in 1585. She declined 
 the compliment, but sent out a considerable force to their aid, 
 under the command of the Earl of Leicester; but when she 
 heard that he had assumed airs of regality, and that his wife 
 was preparing to join him there, she wrote very angrily to him, 
 forbidding it. Leicester was attended by his step-son Rol)ert 
 Devereux, Earl of Essex, who finally became the reigning 
 favorite of Elizabeth ; also by his nephew Sir Philip Sidney, 
 
158G.] ELIZABETH. 393 
 
 the flower of chivalry, who was mortally wounded at the bat- 
 tle of Zutphen, where he performed prodigies of valor, but his 
 thigh-bone was shivered in the third charge. The noblest 
 action of his life was resigning the cup of cold water which 
 had been procured to quench his own agonizing thirst, when 
 he saw the longing look with which it was regarded by a dy- 
 ing soldier near him. " Give it to him," exclaimed Sir Philip, 
 " his necessity is greater than mine." The battle of Zutphen 
 was fought September 22, 1586. Sir Philip Sidney died 011 
 the ITth of October following. 
 
 For many years it had been the practice of Elizabeth's secre- 
 tary of state, Sir Francis Walsingham, to employ secret agents 
 to watch the proceedings of the friends of the captive Queen 
 of Scots, and inveigle them into plots against the life of Queen 
 Elizabeth, and then to inform against them. Executions took 
 place in consequence every year, and every plot afforded an 
 excuse for treating the hapless royal prisoner with greater bar- 
 barity, till her health was wholly desti'oyed by confinement to 
 damp dilapidated prisons and want of exercise. Still she con- 
 tinued to live, and the events of a day or even an hour might 
 place her on the throne of the Britannic realm, for she was 
 nine years younger than EHzabeth, and in the course of nature 
 likely to survive her; a contingency which Elizabeth's minis- 
 ters were determined to prevent, for they had sinned too deep- 
 ly against Mary to hope ever to be forgiven. Four of WaU 
 singham's emissaries, Gifford and Greatly, Poley and Maude, 
 succeeded in beguiling Anthony Babington of Dethicke, a 
 young gentleman of wealth and ancient family in Derbyshire, 
 with nine other enthusiasts, into a conspiracy against Queen 
 Elizabeth's life, and to draw the captive Queen of Scots into 
 a correspondence encouraging their design. Mary eagerly 
 caught at the flattering hope of being restored to liberty, and 
 wrote to the Franch and Spanish ambassadors to assist the 
 conspirators with men and money, and entered into correspond- 
 ence with Babington, who had previously assisted in convey- 
 ing her letters to various adherents in Derbyshire. As she 
 did not mention the design against the life of Queen Elizabetli 
 in any of her^etters, which were all opened and read, a post- 
 script was added, Camden assures us, to one addressed by her 
 to Babington, implying her approval of that design. When 
 this false evidence Iiad been coined, the conspirators were ar- 
 rested, brought to trial, and condemned to suffer the horrible 
 death decreed to traitors, that of being hanged, and quartere<l 
 before life was extinct. This sanguinary process took place 
 in the middle of September, 1586. Within the month Bur- 
 
 R - 
 
394 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1586. 
 
 leigh Walsingham, and the thirty-four commissioners appoint- 
 ed for tlie so-called trial of the Queen of Scots, proceeded to 
 Fotheringay Castle for the purpose of arraigning the defense' 
 less captive, who was denied the assistance of counsel. Mary, 
 who was ill in bed when they arrived, denied their authority, 
 and at first refused to plead ; but Sir Christopher Hatton told 
 her " that would be considered as an acknowledgment of 
 guilt," on which she altered her mind, and determined to ap- 
 pear in the hall. 
 
 ^ She came, supported by her physician, and followed by her 
 ladies, and after two days' fruitless struggle to defend herself 
 against the subtlety and brow-beating of these unconscien- 
 tious adversaries who assumed the name of judges, Mary boldly 
 appealed from their prejudiced conclave, and demanded to be 
 heard before the Parliament of England, or their queen and 
 her council, in the presence of the foreign ambassadors. 
 
 The commissioners then adjourned the court to the 25th of 
 October. They met that day in the star chamber at West- 
 minster, and pronounced sentence of death on the Scottish 
 queen. The sentence was approved by Parliament, and Eliza- 
 beth was earnestly petitioned to have it carried into execution. 
 Henry III., King of France, sent Bellievre, an ambassador- 
 extraordinary, to unite with I'Aubespine, the resident ambas- 
 sador, in pleading for Mary's life, but fresh plots against that 
 of Elizabeth were pretended, Avhich rendered their interclession 
 of no effect. Meantime, the warrant for Mary's execution was 
 drawn up, but no persuasions could induce Elizabeth to sign 
 it. A paper recently discovered in the Cottonian library af- 
 fords convincing reason to believe that she never did, but that 
 her ministers employed Harrison, a private secretary of Wal- 
 singham, and an expert and practiced forger, to imitate her 
 signature. It is certain the warrant was sent oiF, and acted 
 upon without her knowledge, and that the death of the Queen 
 of Scots was concealed from her till many hours after it was 
 publicly known in London, and that she exhibited the most 
 passionate anger against her ministers when she learned what 
 had taken place. She declared to the French ambassadors 
 " that it was their deed, not hers ; for she had i^ver intended 
 to put the Queen of Scots to death, unless in case of a foreign 
 invasion or an insurrection of her subjects;" adding, "that 
 the members of her council had played her a trick she never 
 could forgive, and that but for their long services they should 
 all have lost their heads." 
 
 Elizabeth had sent Davipson to the Tower, and inflicted a 
 fine of ten thousand marks upon him ; and now she begged 
 
J58G.] 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 395 
 
 the French ambassadors "not to believe that she could act so 
 basely as to charge the blame on an humble secretary unless 
 it were true." She kept Davison closely imprisoned during the 
 residue of her life. It is on his testimony only that she has 
 been considered guilty of the death of the Queen of Scots, but 
 Ills statements, Avhen calmly investigated, appear unworthy of 
 credit. There is not the slightest evidence that she was cog- 
 nizant of the murderous letter signed by Walsingham and 
 Davisou, which Davison asserts was written by her order to 
 Sir Amyas Paulet and Sir Drue Drury, urging them to pre- 
 vent the odium of executing their royal captive by taking her 
 life privately. Surely the testimony of a man capable of compos- 
 ing and sending such an incentive to crime ought not to be re- 
 ceived aofainst Elizabeth. 
 
 
 Fotheringay, as it appeared in 1T18. 
 
396 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1588. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Philip II. of Spain now openly asserted a rival claim to the 
 tiirone of England, derived from his descent from two legiti- 
 mate daughters of John of Gaunt, Catharine, Queen of Spain, 
 and Philippa, Queen of Portugal. He prepared to make his 
 pretensions good by the aid of the mightiest fleet that ever 
 swept the waves. When his gigantic armament was sufficient- 
 ly advanced to intimidate, as he imagined, the most coura- 
 geous female who ever swayed a sceptre, he offered the folloV- 
 ing insulting conditions of peace to Elizabeth iu Latin, of which 
 the following is a literal translation : 
 
 " Belgic rebels aid no more ; 
 Treasures seized by Drake restore ; 
 And whate'er thy sire overthrew 
 • In the papal church, renew." 
 
 "Your demand, good king, shall be fulfilled in the days 
 when the Greeks reckoned by kalends," was the contemptu- 
 ous reply of Elizabeth, meaning never, for kalends were un- 
 known to the Greeks. Pope Sixtus V. now reiterated the 
 anathema which his predecessors, Pius and Gregory, had 
 already published against Elizabeth. Noways daunted, she 
 retorted by causing the Bishop of London to publish a sen- 
 tence of excommunication against the Pope in St. Paul's Cathe- 
 dral. Elizabeth was indefatigable in raising forces and fitting 
 out ships to repel the threatened invasion. She chose Lord 
 Effingham for her lord admiral, and Sir Francis Drake for 
 her vice-admiral. She took upon herself the command of her 
 land forces in person. These consisted of two armies ; one 
 under the orders of the Earl of Leicester, of twenty-eight 
 thousand men, was stationed at Tilbury ; the other, called 
 the army-royal, or the queen's body-guard, was headed by 
 her maternal cousin Lord Hunsdon. The elements from the 
 first fought against the armada, and guarded the coasts of 
 England. It sailed from the Bay of Lisbon on the 29th of 
 May, 1588, but was scattered and sorely damaged by a storm 
 from the west, and driven into the harbor of Corunna, where 
 it was compelled to tarry for repairs. The utter destruc- 
 tion of the armament was reported in England. But on 
 the 19th of July its appearance m the Channel Avas reported 
 by the pirate Fleming, and the first engagement commenced 
 
1588.] 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 397 
 
 on the 21st. The glorious achievements of the naval he- 
 roes, who for eighteen days grappled with "the invinci- 
 ble" upon tlie waves, and linally quelled the pride of Spain, 
 have been related by the historians of the period. The first 
 series of English newspapers were printed and published at 
 the exciting time when the armada, which consisted of one 
 lumdred and fifty ships, was in the Chaimel. Gravesend was 
 then fortified, and abridge of boats drawn across the Thames, 
 to oppose the invading fleet, if any portion of it should succeed 
 in entering the Nore. The queen composed a prayer, which 
 was used in all the churches every Wednesday and Friday, for 
 deliverance and good success. The day she went in royal and 
 martial pomp to visit her camp at Tilbury, and the next, in 
 which she reviewed her troops, have generally been regarded 
 as the most interesting of her whole life. Elizabeth was then 
 fifty-five years old ; she had borne the sceptre and the sword 
 of empire with glory for thirty years. Time, which had faded 
 her youthful charms, robbed her once plump cheek of its round- 
 ness, and elongated the oval contour of her face, had neverthe- 
 less endeared her to her people, by rendering her every day 
 more perfect in the queenly art of captivating their regard by 
 a gracious and popular demeanor. She wore a steel corselet on 
 her breast, and rode bareheaded between the lines, and when 
 •the thunders of applause ceased, harangued her troops in a 
 most eloquent and popular speech. The soldiers, who were 
 many of them volunteers and gentlemen, exclaimed in reply, 
 " Is it possible that any Englishman could abandon such a cause, 
 or refuse to lay down his life in defense of this heroic prin- 
 
 cess 
 
 V" 
 
 Dutch medal on the oveitlirow of the arniaJa. 
 
398 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1597. 
 
 The news of the final defeat and dispersion of the avmada 
 was brought to Elizabeth while she was yet at Tilbuiy, on the 
 8th of August. A mighty storm delivered England from the 
 danger of the scattered fleet rallying. Elizabeth was received 
 with almost idolatrous homage on her return to London, so 
 greatly had her courage and spirited demeanor endeared her 
 to all ranks of her jjeople. The Earl of Leicester died on the 
 4th of September following ; he left some valuable jewels to 
 Queen Elizabeth, introducing these legacies with very flatter- 
 ing expressions respecting her beauty and virtues in his will. 
 Elizabeth, nevertheless, seized all his personal eff"ects, and sold 
 them by public auction, to liquidate certain sums in which he 
 was indebted to her exchequer. The young Earl of Essex, 
 the Countess of Leicester's &on, now became her principal 
 favorite. He succeeded his step-father in the oflice of master 
 of the horse, and rode next the queen's person, leading her 
 palfrey the day she went in state to St. Paul's to return 
 thanks for the late national deliverance from the armada. The 
 influence of her new favorite was regarded with jealous eyes 
 by all her ministers, especially Burleigh the premier, who had 
 flattered himself that the death of Leicester would leave him 
 supreme in the council chamber; but he found himself con- 
 stantly opposed and circumvented by Essex, with the queen. 
 
 Essex, as the great-grandson of Mary Boleyn, was nearly re- 
 lated to Eliz-abeth, who regarded him with partial affection, 
 and treated him like a spoiled child ; but he longed for mili- 
 tary renown, and occasionally broke from the silken fetters in 
 which she, strove to detain hnn, and joined the fleets that were 
 fitting out to attack Spain. The first time he attempted this 
 slie sent their mutual kinsman Robert Carey to forbid his voy- 
 age and persuade him to return. Carey succeeded Avith great 
 difficulty, but when the expedition sailed for Lisbon, with in- 
 tent to place Don Antonio, who claimed to be the rightful 
 King of Portugal, on the throne of that realm, Essex could 
 not be restrained from joining it. He greatly distinguished 
 himself at the capture of the castle of Penicha, advanced to 
 the gates of Lisbon, and beating a thundering summons there, 
 challenged the Spanish governor to come forth and do battle 
 with him in single combat. No notice was taken of this ro- 
 mantic defiance; and the pestilence which attacked the En- 
 glish army compelled the gallant adventurers to return, leaving 
 eighteen thousand of their number dead. Elizabeth, who had 
 amused herself with balls and progresses during the absence of 
 Essex, received him with unabated .affection on his return. Soon 
 after she became so bitterly jealous of her fair maid of jjonor, 
 
1597.] ELIZABETH. 399 
 
 Lady Mary Howard, that she often scolded and sometimes 
 beat her. Essex, however, loved the widow of Sir Philip Sid- 
 ney, and privately married her. Tiie care of Lady Walsing- 
 hara for her daughter's reputation defeated his intention of 
 concealing the marriage. The queen was infuriated when it 
 came to her ears, and refused to receive his wife. Essex was 
 then permitted to join the troops sent by her to the aid of the 
 young King of France, Henry IV., who was at that time con- 
 sidered the champion of Protestantism. Elizabeth worked a 
 scarf for Henry with her own hands, and assisted him both 
 with money and troops to maintain himself against the league ; 
 but when in 1593 she learned that he had reconciled himself 
 with the Church of Rome, she wrote a most indignant letter to 
 him, reproaching him for his having forsaken the true faith 
 for worldly motives. 
 
 Essex was restored to the queen's favor on his return from 
 France, and continued the reigning favorite at her court, and 
 to engross the most profitable offices there. Whenever the 
 queen refused him any thing he pretended to be ill, and kept 
 his bed till she persuaded him to return to the royal circle. 
 He was appointed to the command of the expedition sent out 
 against Cadiz in July, 1597. The willfulness of his great en- 
 emy. Sir Walter Raleigh, in attacking the town of Fayal be- 
 fore the arrival of the rest of the fleet, disarranged all his 
 plans, and rendered it necessary to return to England. Essex 
 was advised to bring Raleigh to court-martial for his disobe- 
 dience. " So I should," replied Essex, " if he were my friend." 
 
 Raleigh laid all the blame of the failure of the expedition on 
 Essex. The same year Elizabeth gave audience to Paul Ja- 
 line, the handsome ambassador of Sigismund, King of Sweden 
 and Poland, sou of her former lover, John, Duke of Finland. 
 Elizabeth anticipated a very complimentary address in conse- 
 quence, and was much pleased with the appearance of the plen- 
 ipotentiary and his dress ; but his speech, which was in Latin, 
 greatly offended her, for it was neither more nor less than an 
 offensive remonstrance from the king his master on the line 
 of policy she had adopted — her assumption of maritime supe- 
 riority over other nations, to which, he said, her position in 
 Europe did not entitle her ; and also complained of her wars with 
 Spain, which, he alleged, interrupted the commerce of that na- 
 tion with Poland ; and concluded by informing her that the king 
 his master, having formed a matrimonial alliance with the 
 house of Austria, was determined to put up with these wrongs 
 no longer, and, unless she thought proper to redress them, he 
 would. 
 
400 QUEENS OE ENGLAND. [1598. 
 
 At the conclusion of an address so different from what she 
 had expected, the queen started from lier throne, and over- 
 whehiied the astonished envoy by answering his ill-judged 
 speech point by point, in so sarcastic an outpouring of extem- 
 pore Latin, that he stood silent and confounded, and retired 
 without venturing a word in reply. Elizabeth then turning 
 to her nobles, said, " I have been enforced, my lords, this day 
 to scour up my old Latin, that hath long lain rusting." 
 
 Ireland was in a state of revolt in the year 1598; and it 
 was considered necessary to appoint some person of prudence 
 and great courage for the lord-deputy or viceroy. The queen 
 named Sir William KnoUys as the person in her opinion best 
 fitted for the post. Sir William Knollys was nearly related 
 to the queen, and more nearly still to Essex ; yet Essex, sus- 
 pecting the queen's nomination had been suggested by Lord 
 Burleigh and his son Sir Robert Cecil, thought proper to op- 
 pose it with greater vehemence than prudence, and insisted 
 that the appointment ought to be given to Sir George Carew. 
 The queen, offended at the positive tone in which Essex pre- 
 sumed to overbear her opinion and advance his own, made a 
 sarcastic rejoinder, on which he so far forgot liimself as to 
 turn his back on her with a contemptuous expression. Her 
 majesty, provoked beyond the bounds of self-control by this 
 insolent violation of good manners and courtly etiquette, 
 gave him a sound box on the ear, and bade him " go and be 
 hanged." 
 
 Essex, instead of kissing the royal hand in return for the 
 buffet, laid his hand on his sword with a menacing gesture, 
 exclaiming with a deep oath, " Madam, it is only your sex 
 that protects you, for I would not have taken that blow from 
 King Henry your father." The lord admiral hastily threw 
 himself before the person of the queen, as if to defend her 
 from threatened violence ; but Essex, with an impertinent ob- 
 servation on " a king in petticoats," rushed from the royal 
 presence with marked disrespect, and retired into the country. 
 
 The courtiers predicted that the haughty sjnrit of Essex 
 could never be induced to make suitable submission to the 
 queen, so as to receive her pardon for the oiatrage of which 
 he had been guilty. Yet at the end of six months a recon- 
 ciliation was eifected, and he was again received at court. 
 
1598.] 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 401 
 
 State cariiage of Queen KhzuUeiU. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Elizabeth's great minister, Lord Burleigh, died August 4, 
 1598. She had exhibited the greatest soHcitude for him dur- 
 ing his last illness, frequently visiting him in his sick-chamber, 
 and administering broth and medicine to him herself; for his 
 swollen and enfeebled hands had not only lost the power of 
 guiding the statesman's pen, but of conveying food to his 
 mouth. 
 
 Six weeks after the decease of this celebrated minister, 
 Philip II. of Spain was called to his great account ; and 
 Elizabeth was left, almost without any formidable opponents, 
 at the head of the most flourishing realm in Europe. 
 
 Hentzner, the German traveler, who visited England in 
 1598, has preserved some curious particulars of the ceremo- 
 nies observed in the palace of Greenwich, where Queen Eliza- 
 beth was holding her court at that time. He was admitted 
 into the royal apartments by a lord chamberlain's order, 
 which his English friend had procured. ^Jle first describes the 
 presence-chamber, " hung with rich tapestry ; and the floor, 
 after the English fashion, strewn with hay, througli which the 
 queen commonly passed in her way to chapel. At the door 
 stood a gentleman dressed in velvet, with a gold chain, whose 
 ofiice was to introduce to the queen any person of distinction 
 who came to wait on her. It was Sunday, when there was 
 usually the greatest attendance of nobility. In the same hall 
 were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a 
 great number of councillors of state, officers of the crown, 
 and gentlemen, who waited the queen's coming out, which 
 she did, from her own apartment, when it was time to go to 
 prayers, attended in the following manner : first went gentle- 
 
403 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1598. 
 
 men, barons, earls, knights of the Garter, all richly dressed, 
 and bareheaded ; next came the chancellor, bearing the seals 
 in a red silk purse, between two, one of which carried the 
 royal sceptre, the other the sword of state in a red scab- 
 bard, studded with golden fleur-de-lis, the point upward. 
 Next came the queen, in the sixty-sixth year of her age, as we 
 were told, very majestic ; her face oblong, fair, but wrinkled ; 
 her eyes small, yet black and pleasant ; her nose a little hook- 
 ed ; her lips narrow, and her teeth black (a defect the English 
 seem subject to, from their too great use of sugar). She had 
 in her ears two pearls, with very rich drops ; she wore false 
 hair, and that red ; upon her head she had a small crown, re- 
 ported to be made of some of the gold of the celebrated 
 Lunebourg table. Her bosom was uncovered, as all the En- 
 glish ladies have it till they marry ; and she had on a necklace 
 of exceeding fine jewels. Her hands were small, her fingers 
 long, and her stature neither tall nor low ; her air was stately ; 
 her manner of speaking mild and obliging. That day she was 
 dressed in white silk, bordered with pearls of the size of 
 beans, and over it a mantle of black silk, shot with silver 
 threads ; her train was very long, the end of it borne by a 
 marchioness. Instead of a chain, she had a collar of gold and 
 jewels. As she went along in all this state and magnificence, 
 she spoke very graciously, first to one, then to another, in 
 English, French, and Italian ; for besides being well skilled in 
 Greek, Latin, and the languages I have mentioned, she is mis- 
 tress of Spanish, Scotch, and Dutch. "Whoever speaks to her, 
 it is kneeling ; now and then she raises some with her hand. 
 While we were there, W. Slawata, a Bohemian baron, had let- 
 ters to present to her ; and she, after pulling oiF her glove, 
 gave him her right hand to kiss, sparkling with rings and 
 jewels — a mark of particular favor. Wherever she turned 
 her face as she was going along, every body fell down on 
 their knees. The ladies of the court followed next to her, 
 very handsome and well-shaped, and for the most part dressed 
 in white. She was guarded, on each side, by the gentlemen 
 pensioners, fifty in number, with gilt battle-axes. In the ante- 
 chapel, next the hall where we were, petitions were presented 
 to her, and she received them most graciously, Avhich occa- 
 sioned the acclamation of ' Long live Queen Elizabeth!' She 
 answered it with, 'I thank you, my good people.' In the 
 chapel was excellent music. 
 
 " As soon as the service was over, which scarce exceeded 
 half an hour, the queen returned in the same state and order, 
 and prepared to go to dinner. But while she was still at 
 
1598.] ELIZABETH. 403 
 
 prayers, we saw her table set out with the following solem- 
 nity : A gentleman entered the room, bearing a rod, and 
 along withhim another, who had a table-cloth, which, after they 
 had both kneeled three times with the utmost veneration, he 
 spread upon the table, and after kneeling again they both re- 
 tired. Then came two others, one with the rod again, the 
 other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread ; when they had 
 kneeled, as the others had done, and placed what was brought 
 upon the table, they too retired, with the same ceremonies 
 performed by the first. At last came an unmarried lady (we 
 were told she was a countess), and along with her a married 
 one, bearing a tasting knife ; the former was dressed in white 
 silk, who, Avhen she had prostrated herself three times in the 
 most graceful manner, approached the table, and rubbed the 
 plates with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the queen 
 had been present. When they had waited there a little while, 
 the yeomen of the guard entered, bareheaded, clothed in scar- 
 let, with a golden rose upon their backs, bringing in at each 
 turn a course of twenty -four dishes, served in plate, most of it 
 gilt ; these dishes were received by a gentleman in the same 
 order they were brought, and placed upon the table, while the 
 lady-taster gave to each of the guard a mouthful to eat of the 
 particular dish he had brought, for fear of any poison. Dur- 
 ing the time that this guard, which consists of the tallest and 
 stoutest men that can be found in all England, being carefully 
 selected for this service, were bringing dinner, twelve trum- 
 pets and two kettle-drums made the hall ring for half an hour 
 together. At the end of all this ceremonial a number of im- 
 married ladies appeared, who, with particular solemnity, lifted 
 the meat oif the table, and conveyed it into the queen's inner 
 and more private chamber, where, after she had chosen for 
 
 herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the court The 
 
 queen dines and sups alone, with very few attendants; and^it 
 is very seldom that any body, foreign or native, is admitted 
 at that time, and then only at the intercession of somebody 
 in power." 
 
 Roger Lord North was carving one day at dinner, when the 
 queen asked, " AVhat that covered dish was ?" — " Madam, it 
 is a coffin," he replied ; a word which moved the queen to an- 
 ger. "And are you such a fool," said she, " as to give a pie 
 such a name ?" This gave warning to the courtiers not to 
 use any word which could bring before her the image of death. 
 
 Hentzner was much struck Avith the fine library of Queen 
 Elizabeth at Whitehall. " All these books," he says, " are 
 bound in velvet of diiferent colors, but chiefly red, with clasps 
 
404 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1598. 
 
 of gold and silver ; some have pearls and precious stones set 
 in their bindings." Such was, indeed, the fashion in the mag- 
 nificent reign of Elizabeth, when, except in the article of the 
 rush-strewn floors, engendering dirt and pestilence, luxury 
 had ari'ived at a prodigious height. Hentzner notices two 
 little silver cabinets, of exquisite work, in which, he says, 
 " the queen keeps her paper, and which she uses for writing- 
 boxes. Also a little chest, ornamented all over with pearls, 
 in which she keeps her bracelets, ear-rings, and other things of 
 extraordinary value." The queen's bed is described as being 
 ingeniously composed of woods of different colors, with quilts 
 of silk velvet, gold, silver, and embroidery. Elizabeth had 
 the ill taste, as she advanced in years, to increase the number 
 of her decorations, and dressed in a far more elaborate style 
 than in the meridian flower of life, foolishly thinking that the 
 people woiild be diverted by these externals from noticing the 
 decay of her personal attractions. 
 
 She had much difliculty in making up her mind on any point, 
 and frequently altered it to return to her original determina- 
 tion. This fickleness of will occasioned much annoyance to 
 her ministers, and still greater inconvenience to persons in hum- 
 bler departments, who Avere compelled to liold themselves con- 
 formable to her pleasure. When she changed her abode from 
 one royal residence to another, all the carts and horses in the 
 neighborhood, with their drivers, were impressed for the trans- 
 fer of her baggage, whatever time of the year it happened to 
 be, and this Vas considered a grievance under any circum- 
 stances. "A carter was once ordered to come with his cart to 
 Windsor on summons of remove, to convey a part of the roy- 
 al wardrobe : when he came her majesty had altered the day, 
 and he had to come a second time in vain ; but when on a third 
 summons he attended, and after waiting a considerable time 
 was told 'the remove did not hold,' he slapped his hand on 
 his thigh, and said, ' Now I see that the queen is a woman as 
 well as" my wife !' This being overheard by her majesty, as 
 she stood by an open window, she said, 'what villain is this?' 
 and so sent him three angels to stop his mouth;" or rather, 
 we should suppose, to satisfy him for his loss of his time, and 
 the inconvenience her uncertainty of purpose had occasioned. 
 
 Lord Semple of Beltreis, the Scotch ambassador, in one of 
 his private letters to his royal master, gives the following racy 
 account of Elizabeth's testiness to her faithful kinsman, Lord 
 Hunsdon, on his presuming to make an allusion to the perilous 
 subject of her age. " At her majesty's returning from Hampton 
 Court, the day'being passing foul, she would (as her custom 
 
1599.] ELIZABETH. 405 
 
 is) go on horseback, although she is scarce able to sit upright ; 
 aiul !iiy Lord Hunsdon said, ' It was not meet for one of her 
 majesty's years to ride in such a storm.' She answered, in 
 great anger, '•My years ! Maids, to your horses quickly ;' and 
 so rode all the way, not vouchsafing any gracious countenance 
 to him for two days." 
 
 The affairs of Ireland daily assumed a more gloomy aspect ; 
 and the province of Ulster was in open rebellion, under the 
 Earl of Tyrone. The choice of a viceroy or deputy was still 
 matter of debate. The queen proposed Lord Mountjoy, and 
 Essex once more ventured to oppose the royal opinion. Eliz- 
 abeth angrily told him that, " since her choice did not please 
 him, he should go himself." Excuses on his part were una- 
 vailing ; he was compelled to take that difficult and responsi- 
 ble office. When he left London, the people, by whom he was 
 much beloved, followed him with blessings and acclamations 
 for miles. The morning was fine, but scarcely had he reached 
 Souldon when a black cloud obscured the horizon, and a ter- 
 rific storm of thunder and lightning, hail and rain ensued, 
 which by the superstition of the ignorant Avas construed into 
 an evil omen. When Essex reached Ireland he pursued poli- 
 cy of a pacific character. Unable to cope with Tyrone, from 
 the inefficiency of his forces, he treated with him in an amica- 
 ble maimer, and granted such conditions as were likely to form 
 the basis of a firm peace. His conduct was misrepresented to 
 the queen. He was accused of aiming at making himself King 
 of Ireland, with the assistance of Tyrone ; nay, even of aspiring 
 to the crown of England, and that he was plotting to bring 
 over a wild Irish army to dethrone the queen. Elizabeth's 
 health suftered in consequence of the ferment in which her spir- 
 its were kept, and the agonizing conflict of her mind between 
 love and hatred. 
 
 Philip III. of Spain had sent a formidable expedition to sea, 
 with the declared purpose of attempting a descent on some 
 part of her dominions. Ireland was the weak point, which the 
 disaffection, produced by misgovernment, rendered vulnerable ; 
 and it was artfully insinuated to her majesty that Essex was a 
 traitor at heart. With such an admiral as the Earl of Not- 
 tingham, she had no cause to fear the Spanish fleet; and the 
 treasons of Essex existed only in the malignant representations 
 of Sir Robert Cecil, Raleigh, and Cobham. She Avrote, how- 
 ever, in so bitter a style to Essex, that he perceived his ruin 
 was determined by the powerful foes who guided the council, 
 and had poisoned the royal ear against him. In an evil hour 
 he determined to return and plead his own cause to his roy- 
 
406 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1599. 
 
 al mistress, in the fond idea that her own tenderness would 
 second his personal eloquence. On the 28th of September he 
 arrived in London ; and learning that the queen was at Non- 
 such, he hastily crossed the ferry at Lambeth, attended by only 
 six persons, and seized for his own use the horses of some gentle- 
 men, which were waiting there for their masters. He learned 
 from one of his friends, that his great enemy. Lord Grey of 
 Wilton, was on the road before him, posting to Cecil to an- 
 nounce his arrival. It was this adverse circumstance which 
 I^recipitated the fate of Essex, who, urged by the natural im- 
 petuosity of his character, spurred on, through mud and mire, 
 at headlong speed, in the vain hope of overtaking his foe, that 
 he might be the first to bring the news of his return to court. 
 Grey had the start of him, won the fierce race, and had already 
 been closeted a full quarter of an hour with Cecil when Essex 
 arrived at the palace. 
 
 It was then about ten o'clock in the morning, and the rash 
 Essex, without pausing for a moment's consideration, rushed 
 into the })i-ivy-chamber to seek the queen. Not finding her 
 there, he determined at all hazards to obtain an interview be- 
 fore his enemies should have barred his access to her presence, 
 and, all breathless, disordered and travel-stained as he was, even 
 his face being covered with spots of mud, he burst unannounced 
 into her bed-chamber, flung himself on his knees before her, 
 and covered her hands with kisses. The queen, who was newly 
 risen, and in the hands of her tire-woman, with her hair about 
 her face, and least of all dreaming of seeing him, was taken by 
 surprise, and, moved by his passionate deportment and his ca- 
 resses, gave him a kinder reception than he had anticipated ; 
 for, when he retired to make his toilet, he was very cheerful, 
 and " thanked God, that after so many troublous storms 
 abroad, he had found a sweet calm at home." The wonder of 
 the court gossips was less excited at the unauthorized return 
 of the lord-deputy of Ireland, than that he should have ven- 
 tured to present himself before the fastidious queen in such a 
 state of disarray ; and when the queen granted a second inter- 
 view, within the hour, to the earl after he had changed his 
 dress, the general opinion was, that love would prevail over 
 every other feeling in the bosom of their royal mistress. The 
 time-serving worldlings then ventured to pay their court to 
 him, and he discoursed pleasantly with all but the Cecil party. 
 
 In the evening, when he sought the queen's presence again, 
 he found her countenance changed : she. spoke to hira sternly, 
 and ordered him to answer to her council, who were prepared 
 to investigate his conduct, and in the mean time bade hira 
 
1599-1600.] ELIZABETH. 407 
 
 confine himself to his apartment. The following day, at two 
 o'clock in the afternoon, the earl was summoned to go through 
 his first ordeal. When he entered, the lords of the council 
 rose and sainted him, but reseated themselves, while he re- 
 mained standing, barpheaded, at the end of the board, to an- 
 swer to the charges that were exhibited against him by Mr. 
 Secretary Cecil ; to wit, " his disobedience to her majesty's 
 instructions in regard to Ireland ; his presumptuous letters 
 written to her while there; his making so many idle knights; 
 his contemptuous disregard of his duty in returning without 
 leave; and last (not least), his overbold going to her majes- 
 ty's presence in her bed-chamber." This was, indeed, an of- 
 fense not likely to be forgiven by a royal coquette of sixty- 
 eight, who, though painfully conscious of the ravages of time, 
 was ambitious of maintaining a reputation for perennial beau- 
 ty, and had been surprised by him, Avhom, in spite of all his 
 ofiTenses, she still regarded with fond, but I'esentful passion, at 
 her private morning toilet, undighted and uncoifed, in the 
 most mortifying state of disarray. That incident certainly 
 sealed the fate of the luckless Essex, though the intrigues oi 
 his enemies, and his own defective temper, combined with 
 many other circumstances, had prepared the way for his fall. 
 On the following Monday he was committed to the lord-keep- 
 er's charge, at York House, and the queen removed to Rich- 
 mond. She openly manifested great displeasure against 
 Essex; and when the old Lady Walsingham made humble 
 suit to her that she would permit him to write to his lady, 
 who had just given birth to an infant, in this season of fear 
 and trembling, and was much troubled that she neither saw 
 nor heard from him, her majesty would not grant this re- 
 quest. 
 
 The queen was resolute in her anger, notwithstanding all 
 supplications, and amused herself with masques and tourna- 
 ments. Essex meantime refused food, and drank to excess, 
 which brought on a severe illness. He sent for eight physi- 
 cians, and talked of making his will.* A warrant was made 
 out for his imprisonment in the Tower, but he was too ill to 
 be removed. He was prayed for in all the churches in Lon- 
 don ; and the queen relented so far as to send her own physi- 
 cian to him, with a comfortable message and a basin of broth. 
 Possibly she might have been reconciled to him, if his sister 
 Lady Rich's secret correspondence with the King of Scotland 
 had not been intercepted and shown to her ; in which her 
 majesty was spoken of in A'ery sarcastic terms, and Essex as if 
 lie were sick of playing the flatterer to her decayed charms. 
 
408 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1601. 
 
 Essex, wliile writing the most obsequious letters to the queen, 
 had no idea from whence the adverse current flowed, which 
 rendered all his efforts to mollify his angry sovereign unavail- 
 ing. At last, after more than a year's imprisonment, and sev- 
 eral star-chamber investigations, he was allowed to return to 
 his own house, on condition of not going beyond it. Elizabeth 
 deprived him of all his patents for monopolies, to the amount 
 of fifty thousand pounds a year. He was deeply in debt, and 
 so ungrateful for the past benefits he had enjoyed, as to speak 
 most disrespectfully of the queen, as an "old woman crooked 
 both in body and mind." 
 
 Essex now courted the Puritans, and encouraged them to 
 hold conventicles, and preach seditious sermons under his very 
 roof; he formed a secret league with the King of Scots, incit- 
 ing him to insist on being recognized heir to the crown. He 
 endeavored to persuade the people that Sir Robert Cecil and 
 Raleigh had sold the succession to Spain for the infanta. He 
 received a summons, on the 7th of February, to appear before 
 the council to answer for his treasonable ])ractices. Instead 
 of obeying, he fortified his house, and the next day collected 
 three hundred deluded partisans for his defense. The queen 
 sent the lord chancellor and others of her great state officers 
 to parley with him, and demand the reason of his conduct. 
 Essex arrested and shut them up in his house, Avhile he sallied 
 forth into the streets, with his friend the Earl of Southampton, 
 at the head of his frantic party, and endeavored to raise a tu- 
 mult in tlie city against the queen's advisers, by raising the 
 cry, " England is sold to Spain by Cecil and Raleigh. Citi- 
 zens of London, arm for the queen !" Finding it impossible 
 to rouse the people, Essex forced his way through St. Paul's to 
 Queenhithe; where he and Southampton! took boat, and suc- 
 ceeded in getting back to Essex House in the Strand ; but 
 found all his prisoners had been liberated. 
 
 The queen was at dinner when she heard that Essex was 
 endeavoring to raise the city; but she was no more disturbed 
 than if she had been told there was a fray in Fleet Street. 
 Her attendants were struck with consternation when it was 
 reported that he had succeeded. Elizalieth alone had the 
 courage to propose going in person to oppose the insurgents, 
 saying, " there was not one among them would dare to meet a 
 single glance of her eye." 
 
IGOL] 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 409 
 
 House of the time of Queen Eliztibetli, formerly slaudiug in Fleet Slreot. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Essex House w.as neithev formed nor provided for a siege ; 
 and the cries of the terrified ladies, when the lord admiral 
 brought the artillery, compelled Essex and Southampton to 
 surrender. 
 
 Essex and Southampton were arraigned, on the 19tli of Feb- 
 ruary, before the commissioners appointed for the trial. Even 
 
 S 
 
410 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [IGOl. 
 
 if the majority of the commissioners had not been the sworn 
 foes of Essex, he must have been found guilty by the laws of 
 the land ; for he had committed overt acts of treason, which 
 nothing but madness could excuse. The Avorst pang for Es- 
 sex was, to see his former friend Bacon rise to refute his de- 
 fense, and extol the characters of Cecil, Raleigh, and Cobham. 
 Essex bade him remember, " that it was himself who had com- 
 posed the eloquent letters which he had been advised to -write 
 to her majesty exposing their faults." Essex was, of course, 
 condemned : when the sentence was pronounced, he said, " I 
 am not a whit dismayed to receive this doom. Death is as 
 welcome to me as life. Let my poor quarters, which have 
 done her majesty true service in divers parts of the world, be 
 sacrificed and disposed of at her majesty's pleasure." His 
 execution was appointed to take place on the 25th, Ash Wed- 
 nesday. Elizabeth signed the warrant, and it has been said 
 that the tremor of her hand, from agitation, is discernible in 
 that fatal autograph; but the fac-simile of the signature con- 
 tradicts the fond tradition, for it is firmly written, and as elabo- 
 rately flourished as if she thought more of the beauty of her 
 penmanship than of the awful act of giving effect to the sen- 
 tence that doomed the mangling axe of the executioner to lay 
 the head of her familiar friend and kinsman in the dust. Essex 
 was only thirty-three years of age. 
 
 Sardonyx ring, with cuiueo head ol Queen Elizabetli, in the po3se.-sion of Rev. Lord John 
 
 Thynne.' 
 
 The romantic story of the ring which, it is said, the queen 
 had given to Essex in a moment of fondness, as a pledge of her 
 affection, with an intimation " that if ever he foi'feited her fa- 
 vor, if he sent it back to her, the sight of it would insure her 
 foi'giveness," must not be lightly rejected. It is not only re- 
 lated by Osborne, who is considered a fair authority for other 
 
 * This ring is said to be the identical rinp given by Queen Elizabeth to Es- 
 sex. It has descended from Lady Francis Devei'cux, Essex's daughter, in 
 unbroken succession from mother to daughter, to its present possessor. The 
 ring is gold, the sides engraved and the inside of blue enamel. — \_Laharle, 
 Arts of Middle Ages, p. 55.] 
 
160 l.J ELIZABETH. 411 
 
 things, and quoted by historians of all parties, but it is a fam- 
 ily tradition of the Careys, who were the persons most likely 
 to be in the secret, as they were the relations and friends of 
 all the parties concerned, and enjoyed the confidence of Queen 
 Elizabeth. The following is the version given by Lady Eliza- 
 beth Spelman, a descendant of that house, to the editor of her 
 great-uncle Robert Carey's memoirs : " When Essex lay under 
 sentence of death, he determined to try the virtue of the ring, 
 by sending it to the queen, and claiming the benefit of her 
 promise ; but knowing he was surrounded by the creatures of 
 those who were bent on taking his life, he was fearful of trust- 
 ing it to any of his attendants. At length, looking out of his 
 window, he saw early one morning a boy whose countenance 
 pleased him ; and him he induced by a bribe to carry the ring, 
 which he threw down to him from above, to the Lady Scrope, 
 his cousin, who had taken friendly interest in his fate. The 
 boy, by mistake, carried it to the Countess of Nottingham, the 
 cruel sister of the fair and gentle Scrope, and as both these 
 ladies were of the royal bed-chamber, the mistake might easily 
 occur. The countess carried the ring to her husband, the 
 lord admiral, who was the deadly foe of Essex, and told him 
 the message, but he bade her suppress both." The queen, un- 
 conscious of the accident, waited in the painful suspense of an 
 angry lover for the expected token to arrive ; but not receiv- 
 ing it, she concluded that he was too proud to make this last 
 appeal to her tenderness, and, after having once revoked the 
 warrant, she ordered the execution to proceed. It was not 
 till the axe had absolutely fallen, that the world could believe 
 that EHzabeth would take the life of Essex. Raleigh incurred 
 the deepest odium for his share in bringing his noble rival to 
 the block. He had witnessed his execution from the armory 
 in the Tower, and soon after was found in the presence of the 
 queen, who, as if nothing of painful import bad occurred, was 
 that morning amusing herself with playing on the virginals. 
 
 When the news was ofiicially announced that the tragedy 
 was over, there was a dead silence in the privy-chamber ; but 
 the queen continued to play, and the Earl of Oxford, casting 
 a significant glance at Raleigh, observed, as if in reference to 
 the effect of her majesty's fingers on the instrument, which 
 was a sort of open spinet, " When Jacks start up, then heads 
 go down." Every one understood the bitter jest contained 
 in this allusion. 
 
 At her departure from Basing, Elizabeth made ten knights, 
 the largest number she had ever made at one time. She said 
 " she had done more than any of her ancestors had ever done, 
 
412 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1602. 
 
 or any other prince in Christendom was able to do ; namely, 
 in her Hampshire progress this year, entertained a royal am- 
 bassador royally in her subjects' houses." On her homeward 
 progress the queen visited Sir Edward Coke, her attorney- 
 general, at Stoke Pogis, where she was most sumptuously 
 feasted, and presented with jewels and other gifts to the val- 
 ue of 1000^. or 1200/. 
 
 In September, 1602, the Spaniards effected a landing in Ire- 
 land, and took the town of Kinsale ; but were defeated, and 
 finally driven out of that realm by the new lord-deputy, 
 Mountjoy. The hostile preparations of Philip III. of Spain 
 had caused some alarm to Elizabeth's ministers, but were 
 treated by herself with contempt. " I shall never fear," she 
 said, " the threats of a prince who was twelve years in learn- 
 ing his alphabet." 
 
 Hentzner affirms " that he counted on London Bridge no 
 less than three hundred heads of persons who had been ex- 
 ecuted for high treason" — a melancholy evidence that Eliza- 
 beth, in her latter years, had flung the dove from her sceptre, 
 and exchanged curtana, the pointless sword of mercy, for the 
 sword of A^engeance. 
 
 Elizabeth summoned her last parliament to meet at West- 
 minster on the 2Vth of October, IGOl. She opened it in per- 
 son with unwonted pomp, but her enfeebled frame was unable 
 to support the weight of the royal robes, and she was actually 
 sinking to the ground, Avhen the nearest nobleman caught and 
 supported her in his arms. Yet she rallied her expiring ener- 
 gies, and went through the fatiguing ceremonial with her 
 usual dignity and grace. 
 
 The session commenced with a stormy discussion on monop- 
 olies, which had now increased to so oppressive a degree, 
 that the sole right to sell or issue licenses for the sale of wine, 
 vinegar, oil, salt, starch, steel, coals, and almost every nec- 
 essary of life, was vested in the person of some greedy, un- 
 principled courtier or wealthy individual, who had purchased 
 that privilege from the minister or ladies of the bed-chamber. 
 The time had arrived when the people of England would 
 bear this grievance no longer. The exigencies of the govern- 
 ment required an extraordinary supply to carry on the ex- 
 penses of the civil war in Ireland, and the commons chose to 
 discuss the monopoly question first ; but the queen prevented 
 this exposure of the abuses of her government, by sending a 
 most gracious and conciliatory message to the house, signify- 
 ing her intention of redressing all grievances by the exercise 
 of her regal authority. The commons' deputation of 140 
 
1002.] ELIZABETH. 413 
 
 members, with tlieir speaker, waited upon lier to return 
 thanks, and she addressed them at some length, expressing? 
 her aiiection for her people, and her satisfaction " that the 
 harpies and horse-leeches," as she, in her energetic phrase- 
 ology, termed the monopolists, " had been exposed to her. I 
 had rather," said she, " that my heart and hand should perish, 
 than either heart or hand should allow such privileges to 
 monopolists as may be prejudicial to my people. The splen- 
 dor of regal majesty hath not so blinded mine eyes, that 
 licentious power should prevail with me more than justice. 
 The glory of the name of a king may deceive those princes 
 that know not how to rule, as gilded pills may deceive a sick 
 patient ; but I am none of those princes, for I know that the 
 commonwealth is to be governed for the good and advantage 
 of those that are committed to me not of myself, to whom it 
 is intrusted, and that an account is one day to be givcTi before 
 another judgment-seat. I think myself most happy that, by 
 God's assistance, I have hitherto so prosperously governed 
 the commonwealth, in all respects ; and that I have such sub- 
 jects that, for their good, I would willingly lose both king- 
 dom and life." She concluded this beautiful speech, the last 
 she ever addressed to her senate, by entreating them " Not 
 to impute the blame to her, if they had suifered from the 
 abuses of which they complained; for princes' servants were 
 too often set more upon their private advantage than the 
 good of either the sovereign or the people." The Parliament 
 returned the most dutiful acknowledgments, granted an ex- 
 traordinary supply, and was dissolved in Xovember. 
 
 The following spring the aged queen appeared to have made 
 a considerable rally in point of health. In March, 1602, the 
 French ambassador records that her majesty took her daily 
 walking exercise on Richmond green, with greater spirit and 
 activity than could have been expected at her years. She en- 
 tertained the Duke d'Nevers, April 28, with a costly banquet 
 at her palace at Richmond, and after dinner opened the ball 
 with him, in a galliard, which she danced with wonderful agil- 
 ity for her time of life. 
 
 She honored the ancient popular customs of England in the 
 olden time, by going a-Maying with her court in the green 
 glades of Lewisham, two or three miles from her palace of 
 Greenwich. To use a familiar phrase, she appeared as if she 
 had taken a new lease of life, and she adopted the whimsical 
 method of damping the eager hopes of the King of Scotland 
 for his speedy succession to the English throne, by keeping 
 liis ambassador, Sir Roger Ashton, waiting for his audience in 
 
414 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G02. 
 
 a place where lie could see her, behind a part of the tapestry, 
 which was turned back as if by accident, dancing in her privy- 
 chamber to the sound of a small fiddle. His excellency was 
 actually detained cooling his heels in the lobby while she per- 
 formed corantos and other gallant feats of dancing, that he might 
 report to his sovereign how vigorous and sprightly she was, and 
 that his inheritance might yet be long in coming. This sum- 
 mer she made a little series of festive visits in the vicinity of 
 her metropolis, and was gratified with the usual sum of adula- 
 tion and presents ; but it is expressly noticed, that on her visit 
 to the Earl of Nottingham, she was disappointed because she 
 was not presented with the costly suit of tapestry hangings, 
 which represented all the battles of her valiant host with the 
 Spanish armada. 
 
 The gay life her majesty was leading in the month of Sep- 
 tember is thus described by one of her nobles: "We are 
 frolic here at court : much dancing, in the privy-chamber, of 
 country dances before the queen's majesty, who is exceeding- 
 ly pleased therewith. Irish tunes are at this time most liked, 
 but in winter, ' Lullaby,' an old song of Mr. Bird, will be more 
 in request, as I think." Such was the opinion of the Earl of 
 Worcester, an ancient servant and contemporary of the queen, 
 who thought that a refreshing nap, lulled by the soft sounds 
 of Bird's exquisite melody, would better suit his royal mistress 
 than her usual after-dinner diversions of frisking, beneath the 
 burden of seventy years, to some of the spirit-stirring Irish 
 tunes newly imported to the English court. Under this gay 
 exterior the mighty Elizabeth carried a heart full of profound 
 grief It was observed that, after the death of Essex, the peo- 
 ple ceased to greet her with the rapturous demonstrations of 
 affection with which they had been accustomed to salute her 
 when she appeared in public. They could not forgive the loss 
 of that generous and gallant nobleman, the only popular ob- 
 ject of her favor, whom she had cut ofl^ in the flower of his 
 days ; and now, wherever she was seen, a gloomy silence 
 reigned in the streets through which she passed. These indi- 
 cations of the change in her subjects' feelings toward her are 
 said to have sunk deep into the mind of the aged queen, and 
 occasioned that depression of spirits which preceded her death. 
 A trifling incident is also supposed to have made a painful and 
 ominous impression on her imagination. Her coronation-ring, 
 which she had worn night and day ever since her inaugui-a- 
 tion, having grown into her finger, it became necessary to have 
 it filed ofi"; and this was regarded by her as an evil portent. 
 
 In the beginning of June, she confided to the French am- 
 
1G02-1G03.] ELIZABETH. 415 
 
 bassador, Count de Beaumont, " that she was a-weary of life," 
 and with sighs and tears alluded to the death of Essex, that 
 subject which appears to have been ever in her thoughts, 
 and " when unthought of, still the spring of thought." It is 
 Avell known that Elizabeth caused the die of the last gold coin 
 that was struck, with the likeness of her time-broken profile, 
 to be destroyed, in her indignation at its ugliness. 
 
 A fearful complication of comj^laints had settled on the 
 queen, and began to draw visibly to a climax. She suffered 
 greatly with the gout in her hands and fingers, yet was never 
 heard to complain of what she felt in the way of personal 
 pain, but continued to talk of progresses and festivities, as 
 though she expected her days to be prolonged through years 
 to come. On the 14th of January, the queen having sickened 
 two days before of a cold, and being forewarned by Dee, who 
 retained his mysterious influence over her mind to the last, to 
 beware of Whitehall, removed to Richmond, which she said 
 " was the warm winter-box to shelter her old age." She re- 
 moved, on a wet, stormy day, to Richmond. When she first 
 arrived the change of air appeared to have a salutary effect, 
 for she was well amended of her cold ; but on the 28th of Feb- 
 ruary she began to sicken again. All contemporary writers 
 bear witness to the increased dejection of her mind after vis- 
 iting her dying kinswoman, the Countess of Nottingham ; but 
 the particulars of that visit rest on historical tradition only. It 
 is said that the countess, pressed in conscience on account of 
 her detention of the ring which Essex had sent to the queen 
 as an appeal to her mercy, could not die in peace until she had 
 revealed the truth to her majesty, and craved her pardon. 
 But Elizabeth, in a transport of mingled grief and fury, shook, 
 or as otliers have said, struck the dying penitent in her bed, 
 with these words, "God may forgive you, but I never can!" 
 The death-bed confession of the Countess of Nottingham gave 
 a rude shock to the fast ebbing sands of the sorrow-stricken 
 queen. Her distress on that occasion, though the circum- 
 stances which caused it were not generally known till more 
 than a century afterward, is mentioned by De Beaumont, the 
 French ambassador, in a letter to Monsieur de Villeroy. 
 
 The Archbishop of Cantei'bury, who was summoned to at- 
 tend her death-bed Avith his consolations, said to her, "Mad- 
 am, you ought to hope much in the mercy of God. Your 
 piety, your zeal, and the admirable work of the Reformation, 
 which you have happily established, afford great grounds of 
 confidence for you." " My lord," replied "the queen, " the 
 crown which I have borne so long has given enough vanity in 
 
416 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G03. 
 
 my time. I beseech you not to augment it in this hour, when 
 I am so near my death." After this, records Carey, " he began 
 to pray, and all that were by did answer him. After he had 
 continued long in prayer, the old man's knees were weary : he 
 blessed her, and meant to rise and leave her. The queen made 
 a sign with her hand : my sister Scrope, knowing her meaning, 
 told the bishop ' the queen desired he would piay still.' He 
 did so for a long half hour after, and then thought to leave 
 her." Elizabeth, speechless, agonizing, and aware of the utter 
 inefficiency of the aid of the physician or the nurse, was eager 
 now for spiritual medicine. She had tasted in that dark hour 
 of the waters of life, and the thirst of tlie immortal spirit was 
 not hghtly satiated. She made, a second time, a sign to have 
 the archbishop continue in prayer * " He did so for lialf an 
 hour more, with earnest cries to God for her soul's health, 
 which he uttered with that fervency of spirit that the queen, 
 to all our sight, mucli rejoiced thereat," continues the eye-wit- 
 ness of this impressive scene, " and gave testimony to us all 
 of her Christian and comfortable end. By this time it grew 
 late, and every one departed, all but the women who attended 
 
 her This," pursues he, " that I heard Avith my ears, 
 
 ajid did see with mine eyes, I thought it my duty to set down, 
 and to affirm it for a truth upon the faith of a Christian." As 
 those of a trusted and beloved kinsman of Elizabeth, the state- 
 ments of Sir Robert Carey are doubtless of great importance. 
 Few, indeed, of those who are admitted to visit the death-beds 
 of sovereigns have left such graphic records of their last hours. 
 It is melancholy to add, that there is every reason to believe 
 that, while death was thus dealing with the aged queen, this 
 very Carey, and his sister. Lady Scrope, were intently watch- 
 ing the ebbing tide of life, for the purpose of being the first 
 te hail the impatient King of Scots as her successor. 
 
 The spirit of the mighty Elizabeth, after all, passed away so 
 quietly, that the vigilance of the self-interested spies by whom 
 she was surrounded was baffled, and no one knew the moment 
 of her departure. Exhausted by her devotions, she had, after 
 the archbishop left her, sunk into a deep sleep, from which she 
 never awoke, and about three in the morning it was discover- 
 ed that she had ceased to breathe. Lady Scrope gave the first 
 intelligence of this fact, by silently dropping a sapphire ring- 
 to her brother, Avho Avas lurking beneath the windows of tl>e 
 chamber of death at Richmond Palace. This ring, long after 
 known in court tradition as the " blue ring," had been confided 
 
 * Autobiography of Sir Robert Carey, Earl of Munmoiith. 
 
1G03.J ELIZABETH. 41 7 
 
 to Lady Scrope by James, as a certain signal which was to 
 announce the decease of the queen. Sir Robert Carey cauglit 
 the token, and departed, at fiery speed, to announce the tidings 
 in Scotland. His adventures belong to another portion of 
 this work. 
 
 Carey himself gives a very different account of his proceed- 
 ings in his autobiography. He affirms that, after he had as- 
 sisted at the last prayers for his dying mistress, he returned 
 to his lodging, leaving word with one in the cofferer's cham- 
 ber to call him if it was thought the queen would die, and 
 that he gave the porter an angel to let him come in at any 
 time when he called. Early on the Thursday morning the 
 sentinel he had left in the cofferer's chamber brought liim word 
 that the queen was dead. "I rose," says he, "and made all 
 the haste to the gate to get in. I was answei'ed, I could not 
 enter, all the lords of the council having been there, and com- 
 manded that none should go in or out but by warrant from 
 them. At the very instant one of the council, the comptroller, 
 asked if I were at the gate ? I answered ' Yes,' and desired 
 to know how the queen did? he answered, 'Pretty well.'" 
 When Carey was admitted, he found all the ladies in the cof- 
 ferer's chamber weeping bitterly — a more touching tribute, 
 perhaps, to the memory of their royal mistress, than all the 
 pompous and elaborate lamentations that the poets and poet- 
 asters of the age labored to bestow on her, in illustration of 
 the grief which was supposed to pervade all hearts through- 
 out the realm at her decease. 
 
 This great female sovereign died in the seventieth year of 
 her age, and the forty-fourth of her reign, March 24, on the 
 eve of the festival of the Annunciation, called Lady Day. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth Avas most royally interred in Westminster 
 Abbey, on the 28th of April, 1603. "At which time," says 
 old Stowe, " the city of Westminster was surcharged with 
 multitudes of all sorts of people, in the streets, houses, win- 
 dows, leads, and gutters, who came to see the obsequy. And 
 when they beheld her statue, or effigy, lying on the coffin, set 
 forth in royal robes, having a crown irpon the head thereof, 
 and a ball and a sceptre in either hand, there was such a gen- 
 eral sighing, groaning, and weeping, as the like hath not been 
 seen or known in the memory of man ; neither doth any his- 
 tory mention any people, time, or state, to make like lamen- 
 tation for the death of their sovereign." The funereal statue 
 which, by its close resemblance to their deceased sovereign, 
 moved the sensibility of the loyal and excitable portion of the 
 spectators at lier obsequies in this powerful manner, was no 
 
 S * 
 
418 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1603. 
 
 other than the fixded wax-Avork effigy of Queen Elizabeth, 
 l^reset'ved in that httle mysterious cell of Westminster Abbey 
 called the wax-work chamber, for the sight of which an ad- 
 ditional sixpence Avas formerly extorted from the visitors to 
 that venerable fane ! 
 
 Elizabeth was interred in the same grave with her sister 
 and predecessor in the regal office, Mary Tudor. Her succes- 
 sor, King James I., has left a lasting evidence of his good 
 taste and good feeling, in the noble monument he erected to 
 her memory in Westminster Abbey. Her recumbent effigy 
 reposes beneath a stately conopy on a slab of pure white 
 marble, which is supported by four lions. Her head rests on 
 tasselled and embroidered cushions, her feet on a couchant, 
 lion. She is mantled in her royal robes, lined Avith ermine, 
 and attired in farthingale and ruff, but there is almost a clas- 
 sical absence of ornament in her dress. Her closely curled 
 hair is covered with a very simple cap, though of the regal 
 form, but she has no crown, and the sceptre has been broken 
 from her hand ; so has the cross from the imperial orb, Avhich 
 she holds in the other. Queen Elizabeth Avas the last sover- 
 eign of this country to Avhom a monument has been given, 
 and one of thefcAV Avhose glory required it not. 
 
 Signature of Elizabetlu 
 
ANNE OF DENMARK. 
 
 419 
 
 Anne of Denmark. From a painting by Cornelius. 
 
 ANNE OF DENMAEK, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF JAMES I., IQNG OF GREAT BRITAIN 
 AND IRELAND. 
 
 Anne, or Anna of Denmark, was tlie first quecn-cousort of 
 Great Britain ; a title which has been borne by the wives of 
 our sovereigns from the commencement of the seventeenth 
 century to the death of the late Queen Adelaide. 
 
 Anna was descended from Frederic, sovereign Duke of 
 Holstein, elected King of Denmark and Norway for aiding 
 to expel his nephew, ^Christiern II., notorious as a tyrant ; 
 and, what was still more objectionable in those fierce times, 
 he had no male heir. He remained Roman Catholic when 
 his subjects wished, like their neighbors the Holsteiners, to 
 
420- QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1577-1589. 
 
 become Lutherans. His son Christiern III. completed the 
 Reformation. 
 
 Frederic II., who succeeded his father Christiern III., was, 
 altliough his name is not prominent in history, one of the 
 greatest and most prosperous sovereigns in Europe, and a 
 just and good man. He married Sophia, Princess of Meck- 
 lenburgh, by whom he had two sons and three daughters. 
 Anna was born at Scanderburg, December 12, 1577. She 
 could not walk until she was nine years old. Pier chamber- 
 lains and nurses carried her about in their arms wherever she 
 went ; she was, however, very well made, and in after yeai's 
 celebrated for her agile dancing. 
 
 The young King of Scotland, James VI., was the most 
 suitable husband for Anna of Denmark of all the sovereigns 
 in the world. He was the son of Mary Stuart, queen-regnant 
 of Scotland, and her consort and cousin Henry, Earl of Darn- 
 ley. James had been crowned King of Scotland by his 
 mother's enemies at Stirling Castle when an infant. 
 
 James VI. owed a debt of gratitude to Frederic II., on ac- 
 count of the manly manner in which that monarch had ex- 
 erted himself to clear Mary Stuart's fame. The Earl of 
 Both well, who had effected a forced marriage with her after 
 the murder of her husband, had been captured and detained a 
 jDrisoner by the King of Denmark, and on his death-bed clear- 
 ed the queen from all participation in the crime, and revealed 
 liis accomplices — Murray and Morton. Copies of his confes- 
 sion, attested by many witnesses, Frederic II. had sent to 
 every court in Europe, especially to Queen Elizabeth, by 
 whom it was carefully suppressed. In Scotland it was 
 brought in evidence against the murderer Morton. 
 
 The young king never forgot the friendship of King Fred- 
 eric to his hapless mother; and though held by faction in Scot- 
 land in nearly as much restraint as she was in England, he re- 
 solved to marry the Danish princess, and no other. After 
 Mary Queen of Scots had been put to death in England, Queen 
 Elizabeth withdrew the opposition she had previously made to 
 liis marriage. Frederic II., meantime, demanded the restora- 
 tion of the Orkney and Shetland isles, which had been pawned 
 by Denmark to Scotland in the preceding century. He offer- 
 ed to pay the debt, and threatened to enforce his claims by 
 war unless they were given up to him. James VI. much pre- 
 ferred a wife to war ; and it was finall^^ agi-eed that Princess 
 Anna was to have the isles as part of her portion, but if not 
 married before the 1st of May, 1589, all was to be null and void. 
 Before that date Frederic II. died in the prime of life, leaving 
 
158'J.] ANNE OF DENMARK. 421 
 
 tlie disposal of his daughter Anna to his queen, the regent 
 Sophia, who forwarded the marriage with all speed. 
 
 James VI. and Anna of Denmark were Avedded by proxy 
 at Cronenburg, a strong fortress-palace in the isle of Zealand, 
 Keith, the earl raarischal, representing his king, August, 1589. 
 A noble Danish fleet, commanded by Admiral Peter Munch, 
 was appointed to bring the Danish bride and her ladies to 
 Scotland. Unfortunately, though at a time of year when weath- 
 er is finest on the German Ocean, the Danish fleet could never 
 make the Scottish shores. Twice was land sighted by the great 
 ship which carried the admiral's flag and the bride, and twice 
 were all beaten back on the coast of Norway. At last the 
 Danish princess wrote a piteous letter to her newly-espoused 
 king, telling him of her dismal condition. At Upslo frost had 
 set in ; those ships not utterly disabled were bound in ice. 
 Terrible mountains, almost impassable even in summer, cut off 
 all communication Avith Denmark. There was little to sustain 
 life at Upslo, yet it seemed impossible but that the bride must 
 winter there. What made the situation of the Danish prin- 
 cess the more pitiable was the folly of Admiral Peter Munch, 
 who, instead of attributing the failure of the beaten-back ex- 
 pedition to his own bad seamanship, voAved that his fleet was 
 bewitched, because he had once given a witch's husband, one 
 of the baillies of Copenhagen, a box on the ear. The witch- 
 wife, he said, had baffled his fleet out of spite. The young 
 princess did not repeat this folly. The realities of her situa- 
 tion were distressing and dangerous enough, without raising 
 imaginary difficulties. 
 
 By all the laws and customs of royalty, Anna of Denmark 
 was now wife to James VI. of Scotland, and he took the 
 manly and courageous resolution of going himself to relieve 
 her from her dangers and distresses. Yet there were serious 
 impediments : his people, who adored him, having experienced 
 some relief from anarchy since he had governed, would not 
 permit him to encounter danger. He had no money — the reb- 
 els had spent it all ; he had no fleet, excepting a few cockle- 
 shells of merchant brigs under two hundred tons. How could 
 he hope to keep afloat in October on seas where the mighty 
 fleet of Denmark, that great naval power, had failed in Angirst 
 weather ? Nevertheless, after making effective arrangements 
 for government in his absence, he left Edinburgh in the dead of 
 the night of October 20,,1589, and embarked secretly on board 
 his largest ship, of one hundred and twenty tons ; and so favor- 
 able was the wind to his intrepid and generous undei'taking, 
 that he landed at Fliesen, in Norway, on November 7. 
 
422 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1590. 
 
 Notwithstanding this success, Anna of Denmark's refuge 
 was most difficult, ahnost impossible to find. The young king 
 and his trusty baud were wandering on that dismal coast to 
 the middle of November without reaching Upslo. At last the 
 retreat, half buried up in snow, was traced by James. Leav- 
 ing his train to follow as they might, he pushed on. Entering 
 Anna's hut with small ceremony, booted and spurred as he was, 
 the young King of Scotland at once declared that be had 
 come to her aid, and frankly tendered his bride a salute. An- 
 na at first drew back in some alarm, but as soon as she knew 
 that he Avas her wedded lord, she received him with the afiec- 
 tion and gratitude he deserved. 
 
 James VI. married Anne next Sunday, according to the rites 
 of the Scotch Episcopal Church, which nearly resembles that 
 of the English. Davie Lindsay, the king's chaplain, officiated ; 
 the service was in French, because the bride and bridegroom 
 both understood that language. The banquet was spread as 
 well as the savage place permitted, but the wild winds sung 
 the marriage music in deafening tones ; the storms which had. 
 abated their fury while James was on the seas, set in with re- 
 doubled force, so as to preclude all hope of return to Scotland 
 that season. An adventurous mountaineer, however, for high 
 reward, traversed the vast alps of Norway, and crossing Swe- 
 den, carried the news to Queen Sophia of Denmark, who en- 
 treated that the king and her daughter would cross the same 
 passes, and if possible, winter with her at Copenhagen. James 
 chose to try the dangers in his own i:)erson before he ventured 
 that of his bride. 
 
 He bade her tender adieus, December 22, and, aided by the 
 Norway guides, bravely forced the terrible passes, and at last 
 saw the coast of Sweden. There were doubts regarding 
 peace, but James sent forward William Murray, one of his 
 confidential servants, to ask leave of the King of Sweden ; 
 then turning on his own steps, braved again all the dangers 
 of the Norway alps in midwinter, and safely reached Upslo 
 once more. The bride and her suite set out with him di- 
 rectly. At Bahouse, near the Swedish frontier. Will Mur- 
 ray made his appearance on the frozen river, at the head of 
 four hundred cavalry the King of Sweden had sent for the 
 escort of his ally of Scotland. 
 
 All went merrily now. Queen Sophia had come to Cro- 
 nenburg, in Denmark, within sight of Elsingberg, on the 
 SAvedish coast, Avhere the bridal party arrived in the midst of 
 storms so outrageous that three days elapsed before the short 
 crossing could be made. Anna Avas received at Cronenburg 
 
1590.] ANNE OF DENMARK. ' 423 
 
 with transport by her queen-mother, the young king her 
 brother, her sister Elizabeth, and little Uh"ic, the Duke of 
 Holstein. The winter was spent with great festivity. In the 
 spring, after the young Queen of Scotland had witnessed the 
 marriage of her sister Elizabeth with the young Duke of 
 Brunswick, Admiral Peter Munch hoisted his flag on the re- 
 fitted Danish fleet, and, without any impediments from his 
 enemies the witches, landed the King and Queen of Scotland 
 safely at Leith. 
 
 Preparations for her coronation were instantly commenced 
 by her indefatigable consort ; who, after borrowing silk stock- 
 ings from one friend, and money and plate of another, con- 
 trived to have all ready by May 17, 1590. 
 
 Religious dissensions occurred respecting the coronation 
 oath her Scottish majesty was to take. Finally, the matter 
 was left to the discretion of King James and Davie Lindsay. 
 The queen was robed in thirty ells of purple velvet lined with 
 white silk, and embroidered round with gold foliage. She 
 was drawn in a car lined with ci'imson, in which sat with her, 
 Katrine Skinkel and Anna Kroas, her two Danish ladies. 
 Thus she was brought in solemn procession to old Holyrood, 
 and entered the abbey-church, where King James and his offi- 
 cers awaited her, with the queen's regalia. As she was 
 crowned entirely by his grace and favor — so went the Scottish 
 law — his majesty sent the crown and sceptre by the hands of 
 liis great officers, as they were required. The sceptering and 
 crowning thus finished, Davie Lindsay tendered the oath as 
 follows, the queen repeating it : 
 
 "I, Anna, Queen of Scotland, before God and his angels wholly promise 
 that during the course of my life I will worship that same eternal God, ac- 
 cording to his will revealed in the Holy Scriptures : that I withstand all pa- 
 pistical superstitions, and ceremonies, and rites contrary to the Word of God. 
 And I will procure peace to the kirk of God within this kingdom. So God, 
 the Father of all mercies, have mercy upon me ! Amen." 
 
 After the oaths of obedience were taken to her as the king's 
 consort, and a long sermon preached, the queen, wearing her 
 crown, and attended by her procession, retired from the 
 Church of Holyrood to the banquet and diversions in the pal- 
 ace. 
 
 From this time she is called in our histories Anne of Den- 
 mark ; but King James's name for her was Annie, and some- 
 times " My own Annie." 
 
 The royal pair had a fair share of felicity, taking the aver- 
 age of marriage in general ; the chief faults of the Danish 
 bi'ide were that she was now and then petulant and fantastic. 
 
424 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1594. 
 
 King James was the best partner of the two ; his letters, 
 when he had occasion to reprove his young queen, show 
 homely reverence for the sacred bond that united them. Once 
 Queen Anne taunted him with her royal birth, to which her 
 husband made this manly reply : 
 
 "I carry that love and respect to you which by the law of nature I owe 
 to my wife and to the mother of my children. But not because ye are a 
 king's daughter. For whether ye were a king's or a cook's daughter, ye 
 must be alike to me, being once my wife. For respect to your honorable 
 birtli and descent I married you ; but the love and regard I now bear ye is 
 because ye are my wedded wife, and so partaker of my honor as of my other 
 fortunes. I beseech ye pardon my rude plainness in this." 
 
 February 19, 1594, Queen Anne gave birth, at Stirling 
 Castle, to a promising boy, who was named Henry Frederic, 
 joining the names of the king and queen's fathers. Queen 
 Elizabeth was the prince's godmother by proxy, sending him 
 the costly gift of a cupboard of plate, with gold cups of such 
 weight that Sir James Melville says he could scarcely lift them. 
 When the grand christening was over, the queen found to her 
 intense anguish that the king meant to remove from Stirling 
 Castle, leaving her boy to be brought up by the old Lady Mar, 
 who had been his own protectress in the dangerous times of 
 his youth. The passionate opposition of the reluctant queen 
 to parting from her first-born child failed to alter this resolve. 
 Tl)e king said it was the law of the country, and he had felt 
 the benefit of it. If it had not been for the fidelity of the 
 noble family of Mar-Erskine, he should not have been alive, 
 nor possessed of queen, or son, or kingdom. 
 
 When Prince Henry was fifteen months old the queen's ma- 
 ternal feelings were so exasperated at the thought that her 
 babe at that sweet infantine age was bestowing all his caresses 
 on old Lady Mar, that she resolved to take him away unknown 
 to the king. So she sent to her goldsmith and banker, George 
 Heriot, for 200?., and pi-oceeded to Stirling Castle to see her 
 boy, and steal him if she could. King James contrived to 
 make out her intentions, and circumvented her purpose, in 
 his quiet way, every time she tried to effect it, by going with 
 her, attended by numerous guards and court officers, until 
 the queen found herself occupied with an engagement that 
 could not be put off". This was the birth of the princess-royal 
 of Scotland, named Elizabeth. James did not tear his little 
 daughter from the arms of his queen ; yet she continued to 
 pine for her boy Henry, and express her hatred to his guard- 
 ians, old Lady May and the earl her son, in no measured 
 terms. Nevertheless, Prince Henry i-eceived an admirable 
 
IGOO.] . ANNE OF DENMARK. 425 
 
 education under the care of the guardians liis royal sire had 
 chosen for liini. 
 
 The dreadful times which had agonized Scotland were now 
 ameliorated. The court became somewhat civilized mider the 
 rule of the queen. When she first presided over it, so brutal 
 was the conduct of the nobility, so little was known of man- 
 ners suitable to virtuous women, that the queen herself could 
 not pass from her own apartments to those of her royal lord 
 without risk of experiencing gross insult. Two remarkable 
 attempts threatened relapses into anarchy ; one by Francis 
 Stuart, Earl of Bothwell, and the other by the young Earl of 
 Gowry. The first ended in Bothwell's running away with 
 all the queen's horses, and finally taking himself off to France. 
 The latter was a mysterious attempt on the life and liberty of 
 the king by the young Earl of Gowry, Avho was slain in the 
 struggle. It seems some continuation of the attacks of the 
 Earl of Gowry's father on the king in childhood. Disputed 
 claims on the king's private inheritance of the great Douglas 
 estates, involved by the divorces of Queen Margaret Tudor and 
 her second husband, were, without doubt, the leading mo- 
 tives of Gowry's outbreak.* 
 
 Anne of Denmark has been implicated in the Gowry plot, 
 a mysterious conspiracy against the life of her husband of 
 which the young Ruthvens were the leaders; but she is only 
 connected with it by a tie slight as a silver ribbon, according 
 to the following tale of court gossip : 
 
 " One day, in the summer preceding the birth of Charles I., 
 the queen was walking in the gardens with her favorite maid 
 of honor, Beatrice Ruthven, wdien they came to a tree under 
 which Alexander Ruthven, a youth of nineteen, lay asleep. 
 The queen, it is said by some, and by others, his sister Bea- 
 trice, tied a silver ribbon roimd his neck which had been given 
 to the queen by the king, and left him sleeping. Presently 
 King James himself came by with his attendants ; the silver 
 ribbon caught his eye, and he bent over the sleeper and gazed 
 on it very earnestly. The king, instead of waking Ruthven, 
 and asking him how he came by the ribbon, went his way, 
 leaving the sleeper still nnawakened. Back instantly came 
 Beatrice, who had been anxiously watching the demeanor of 
 the king, twitched the ribbon from round her brother's neck, 
 and fled to the queen's presence, and threw this ribbon into a 
 drawer, telling her majesty that ' her reason for so doing 
 
 * See "Lives of the Queens of Scotland," Queen Margaret Tudor. By 
 Agnes Strickland. 
 
42G QUEENS OF ENGLAND.. [1(;03. 
 
 would be presently discovered I' King James directly after 
 entered on the scene and demanded the sight of his silver rib- 
 bon, in the tone of Othello asking for the fatal handkerchief; 
 but the Queen of Scotland, more lucky than Desdemona, quiet- 
 ly took out the ribbon from the drawer into which Beatrice 
 had just shut it, and placed it in his hands. James earnestly 
 examined it for some time, and then pronounced his oracular 
 sentence in broad Scotch — 'Evil take me, if like be not an ill 
 mark.' " 
 
 To enter into the details of the Gowry plot here would be 
 impossible ; it is almost to this hour a subject of discussion, 
 and volumes of controversy have been written on the sub- 
 ject. The principal events can be found in any general his- 
 tory of England or Scotland. 
 
 Just at this crisis the queen gave birth to another prince at 
 Dunfermline, November 19. The queen had been very ill, and 
 the new-born prince was weak and languishing, expected to 
 die hourly. The baptism was hasty — it Avas according to the 
 rites of the Episcopal Church. The king gave the child the 
 name of Charles; it was his own first name. He mentioned 
 to his guests in the evening these coincidences : " I first saw 
 my wife on the 19th of November, on the coast of Norway; 
 and now she has given birth to my second son on that anni- 
 A'ersary, She bore my eldest son Henry, February 19, and my 
 daughter Elizabeth, August 19. I was myself born on the 
 19th of June." 
 
 The long-expected hour of this island's union under one 
 monarchy occurred March 24, 1603. The death of Queen 
 Elizabeth was announced to James of Scotland, her next of 
 kin in the regal line, by her mother's great-nephew Robert 
 Carey. This gentleman rode such a race into Scotland as had 
 never before been accomplished, seldom since. He brought a 
 sapphire ring as a token that Lady Scrope his sister had 
 previously agreed on wjth King James ; it was dropped out 
 of the window of Queen Elizabeth's death-chamber at Ricii- 
 mond Palace the moment of her demise. 
 
 King James soon after heard of his proclamation in London 
 as King of England : he took the affair in his own quiet w.ay. 
 The Sunday before he left Scotland he led his queen by the 
 hand from Holyrood to St. Giles's Church. After hearing a 
 sermon on the great event, he rose up and bade his loving peo- 
 ple solemn and affectionate farewell, behaving like the father 
 of a large family going far, to Xnke possession of an estate. 
 Sobs and wailings from the multitude, in which he and his 
 queen joined, closed his speech. He bade his queen and peo- 
 
1G03.] ANNE OF DENMARK. 427 
 
 pie farewell once more by the Mercat Cross, April 5, and rode 
 southward with his little band, not so strong as many a hunt- 
 ing party in those days, leaving his queen and good people of » 
 Edinburgh weeping bitterly. When they remembered how 
 bis new subjects had put his mother, to death had slain in bat- 
 tle, or destroyed by nurturing civil wars, the king's progeni- 
 tors, and induced the assassination of his father, Lord Darnley, 
 no little physical as well as moral courage was needed for the 
 experiment tried by James the Peaceful, without army or the 
 means of resisting violence. He left his dear ones in safety, 
 and went forward to encounter the risk alone — if risk there 
 were to be. 
 
 The king confided not the slightest political authority to his 
 queen, nor did he mean her to occupy the regency in case he 
 lost his life in England. Her disposition, though estimable in 
 most points, was too explosive and volatile. She was apt to 
 revile, in passion, persons who were quite innocent of the acts 
 that had offended her. Dangerous propensities, indeed, for 
 those who have to govern. As for her adored heir, Prince 
 Henry, he was to be guarded more sedulously than ever in his 
 scholastic retreat at Stirling Castle. The king wrote thus : 
 
 " Mt Son : — That I see you not before my parting impute to this great oc- 
 casion, wherein time is so precious ; but that shall by God's grace be rec- 
 ompensed by your coming to me shortly, and continual residence with me"' 
 ever after. Let not this news make you proud or arrogant ; a king's son 
 were ye before, and no more are ye yet. The augmentation that is hereby 
 like to fall to you is but in cai'es and heavy burdens. 
 
 "Look upon all Englishmen that come to visit you as your loving sub- 
 jects, not with ceremoniousness, as towards strangers, but with that hearti- 
 ness which at this time they deserve. 
 
 "Be diligent and earnest in your studies, that at meeting with me I may 
 praise you for progress. Be obedient to your master, for your own weal, 
 for in reverencing him you obey me and honor yourself. Farewell. Your 
 loving Father, James K." 
 
 King James was received by his new subjects not only with 
 loyalty, but with loving affection that amounted almost to 
 mania. His Scottish attendants shrewdly observed, "These 
 people will spoil a guid king !" James required soon the dip- 
 lomatic assistance of the faithful Earl of Mar, then taking 
 care of Prince Plenry at Stii-ling. Queen Anne hated Mar, 
 but as she dreaded him likewise, she did not commence the 
 line of conduct she had planned until she was sure of his de- 
 parture to England. Then, escorted by a strong party of 
 Scotch nobles of her fiction, her majesty set off for Stirling 
 Castle, and demanded her son Henry of old Lady Mar. Tlie 
 
428 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1603. 
 
 poor lady was in great perplexity. She had, however, been 
 used to hold command at Stirling in somewhat worse times, 
 and deny admittance and surrender of King James to leaders 
 of more prowess than Anne of Denmark. She flatly refused 
 to admit one of the queen's armed host; two ladies only came 
 in with the queen. Showing her majesty King James's war- 
 rant, she asked respectfully, " How that could be gainsayed ?" 
 The queen became hysterical, and her indisposition was follow- 
 ed by premature confinement with a dead son. Without re- 
 garding her own extreme danger, she exerted herself to write 
 to the king, and the council the king had left at Holyrood, vio- 
 lent complaints of Lady Mar. 
 
 King James, finding that all matters went well in England, 
 agreed to the queen's wish, and sent forward Mar to give the 
 prince up to his mother, and escort them to England. But 
 the queen was in an access of perverse rage, and refused to 
 be pacified when she had got her own way. The lords of the 
 Scotch council did not know Avhat was to be done ; for her 
 majesty refused to receive the prince if delivered to her by the 
 Earl of Mar, or to let the earl present her with the king's let- 
 ter ; refused to depart from Stirling with the prince or without 
 him ; refused to travel to England with the prince if Mar was 
 in his company ; and he was obliged to be so, as he Avas still 
 his governor. 
 
 When the king lieard of his consort's behavior, the much 
 enduring man broke into a towering passion ; he swore awfully 
 — swearing was his besetting sin — and sitting down, wrote 
 his perverse spouse a letter, which, although garnished with 
 more expletives than was becoming, was too kind to induce 
 obedience. She said " She would rather never see England 
 than be beholden to Lord Mar." Pitying her bad state of 
 health, the king at last compromised the affair by sending the 
 Duke of Lennox to receive the prince from Mar, and deliver 
 him to the queen. Then her majesty condescended to set out 
 for the southern land of promise, accompanied by her eldest 
 son and her daughter Elizabeth, June 2, 1603. 
 
 Her mind was by no means calmed ; new disputes sprung 
 up before she crossed the English border. James had, with 
 some wisdom, foreseen that the English would not be pleased 
 at seeing their new queen surrounded by Scottish household 
 officers. He had appointed, at Berwick, English ladies, En- 
 glish chamberlains and lords to wait upon her. Not one would 
 Queen Anne receive, save Lady Bedford and Lady Harring- 
 ton, who had journeyed as far as Edinburgh to pay their duty 
 and become known to her majesty. Her new chamberlain she 
 
1603.] ANNE OF DENMARK. 429 
 
 would not see, clioosing to retain Kennedy in that post. 
 Whereupon King James again flew into a passion, and averred 
 that if Kennedy dared enter his presence in England, with the 
 chamberlain's statf in his hand, he would break it over his 
 head ; which threat Kennedy did not stay to have put in ex- 
 ecution, but fled back to Scotland, leaving the queen without 
 that requisite ofticer. The queen soon after permitted her 
 English ladies to bring her some of Queen Elizabeth's jewels, 
 that the king had sent to adorn her with, and she entered En- 
 gland in better temper. 
 
 It was the hottest summer ever remembered, and the early 
 beauty of June grew more glowing as the northern queen ad- 
 vanced to the south. The king, who had found Lady Ara- 
 bella Stuart in prison, liberated her, and, as his nearest kins- 
 woman, made her fii'st lady to the queen, with a fine income. 
 Lady Arabella met Queen Anne in a beautiful mask, in the 
 character of Diana, with hounds and harts and horns, besides 
 nymphs, represented by the fairest young ladies of the mid- 
 counties, with music, dances, and poetry. She won the queen's 
 favor, and retained possession of her high appointment, falling 
 into the queen's cortege as first lady. At Althorpe the most 
 beautiful masque awaited the advancing queen. This masque 
 and nearly all the others during the reign of Anne of Denmark 
 were from the pen of Ben Jonson. To do this queen justice, 
 she appreciated the noble powers of him who was second only 
 to Shakespeare. Ben Jonson was henceforth the queen's jDoet 
 2X17' excellence. 
 
 The princess-royal of England and Scotland, Elizabeth Stu- 
 art, had to bid farewell to her mother in Warwickshire, and 
 turn ofl" with Lord and Lady Harrington, who were appoint- 
 ed by King James to complete her education at their seat — 
 Combe Abbey. 
 
 The queen joined her royal lord at the antique palace of 
 Grafton, then in the possession of George Clifford, Earl of 
 Cumberland. After resting a day or two, the royal party 
 crossed the country to Windsor Castle. Here Anne was pres- 
 ent at a grand chapter of the Garter, and here she quarreled 
 with several of the English nobles, and provoked Lord South- 
 ampton (well known as a warm suj^porter of her husband's 
 royalty), so much so that he broke the palace rules seriously, 
 and was sent to the Tower. 
 
430 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1603. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 St. James's Day, 1603, was appointed for tlie coronation of 
 King and Queen of Great Britain ; but tlie heat of the weatli- 
 er aggravated the phigue so awfully that the ceremony was 
 nearly privately performed. The royal cavalcade through 
 the city was omitted, and the only procession was from West- 
 minster Hall to the abbey. The queen walked, with her beau- 
 tiful dark hair hanging on her shoulders, surmounted by a rich 
 garland of gems, and so sweetly saluted the bystanders that 
 the women exclaimed, weeping, " God bless the royal queen ! 
 Welcome to England, .long to live and continue." 
 
 Anne, however, gave offense by refusing to receive the sac- 
 rament according to the service of the Church of England. 
 Slie had been required in Scotland to forsake the Lutheran for 
 the Calvinist creed. Perhaps she thought three changes in 
 religion too much even for three crowns. 
 
 The last coronation of a queen-consort with her king had 
 been that of Katharine of Arragon with Henry VIII. The 
 rights of a queen-consort had become obsolete, and many of 
 tlic dower-lands wrongfully appropriated. Anne of Denmark, 
 at last, by favor of the king, had her lands made up to 6000^. 
 per annum. Her principal London palace was at Somerset 
 House, then called, in compliment to her, Denmark House. 
 
 Soon after the accession of King James to the sovereignty 
 of Great Britain, Philip III. of Spain formed a secret league 
 with an unprincipled faction in England, of whom Sir Walter 
 Raleigh was the leader, for his deposition and murdei", togeth- 
 er with that of his queen and family, ostensibly for the pur- 
 pose of placing Lady Arabella Stuart on the throne. Lady 
 Arabella, however, was terrified at the idea of the iniquitous 
 confederacy, and immediately disclosed all she knew of the 
 plot to the queen, and begged the king to keep her out of the 
 way of the conspirators. James removed her, the queen and 
 royal family to Winchester Castle, where they passed some 
 months in great seclusion, till he and his ministers had taken 
 proper measures for defeating the evil designs of the confed- 
 erates of Spain. But while the king and his council held anx- 
 ious debate on the portentous aspect of the times, the queen 
 and Lady Arabella, with their ladies, w^ere exceedingly dull, 
 
1605.] ANNE OF DENMAKK. 431 
 
 so much so that they were glad to beguile the tedium of their 
 sojourn at Winchester, by playing at all sorts of baby games, 
 such as " Queen Anne, Queen Anne, she sits in the sun," and 
 many others now obsolete, such as " Rise, pig, and go," " My 
 lord, give me a course in your park," and others still familiar 
 to the juvenile world. 
 
 The execution of several Roman Catholic priests and lords 
 at Winchester took place after the conspiracy was discovered 
 and defeated ; but the queen pleaded so earnestly for Sir 
 Walter Raleigh, that his sentence was commuted to imj^rison- 
 ment for life ; and several other noblemen and gentlemen were 
 pardoned at the moment they expected the axe on their necks. 
 
 At Greenwich Palace the queen entered into the retire- 
 ment called "taking her chamber," in March, 1605, and 
 April 8 gave birth to a princess named Mary, in memory of 
 her unfortunate grandmother, Mary Queen of Scots, whose 
 tomb the king ordered to be commenced in Westminster 
 Abbey the very day of his little daughter's birth. The new- 
 born lady Mary was baptized in the chapel of Greenwich 
 Palace, the first baptism of a royal infant according to the 
 Church of England. Lady Arabella Stuart was godmother, 
 and Duke Ulric of Holstein, the queen's brother and Lady 
 Arabella's rejected lover, the godfather. The sponsor's gifts 
 were magnificent, and were carried in the procession by six 
 eai-ls. 
 
 The clemency which induced James to listen to his queen's 
 ardent prayers for mercy on Sir Walter Raleigh and most of 
 the conspirators, had the bad effect of encouraging another 
 insurrection. The Roman Catholics, exasperated by the re- 
 straints the government imposed on them for their late at- 
 tempt, concocted the well-remembered Gunpowder Plot, 5th 
 of November, 1605. It was intended to blow up the king, 
 queen, princes, and the members of both houses of Parliament 
 at the opening of the sessions. 
 
 The queen gave birth to another princess at Greenwich, 
 June 22, 1606. The infant was named Sophia, after the 
 Queen of Denmark, but expired soon after. Queen Anne was 
 in great grief, and recovering with difiiculty from illness, 
 which long hung on her. The Danish fleet entered the 
 Thames, bringing her brother King Christiern, with very dif- 
 ferent intentions from those of the sea-kings of yore. King 
 James entertained his brother-in-law during the queen's ill- 
 ness and seclusion, holding high revels at the country palace 
 of Theobalds, then belonging to the Earl of Salisbury. Here 
 in a pageant, one of his female servants, representing the Queen 
 
432 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [I GOG. 
 
 of Sheba, became intoxicated and disorderly, which gave oc- 
 casion to a modern author, who has written a life, or rather a 
 libel, on James I., to accuse Anne of Denmark of this gross 
 conduct ; but as she was very ill in her chamber at Green- 
 wich, not even churched, such calumny must not be quoted to 
 her disparagement by those who know better. 
 
 Queen Anne was sufficiently recovered to be present, wlien 
 her brother took leave of England after his long visit, in a 
 grand festival on board of the united fleets of England and 
 Denmark, off Greenwich. The King of Denmark presented 
 his nephew Henry, Prince of Wales, with one of his finest 
 men-of-war. And, after taking a tender farewell of his royal 
 sister, the king and their children sailed with the tide, August 
 10. At this leave-taking an unfortunate mistake involved the 
 queen in a vexatious quarrel with the high-admiral of En- 
 gland, the aged hero of the armada, and his young wife, Marga- 
 ret Stuart, King James's cousin. The queen did not give way 
 to her usual petulant temper ; the whole arose from the King 
 of Denmark's want of knowledge of English. All blame rest- 
 ed with the lady of the admiral, who was grossly insolent to 
 the queen. 
 
 Prince Charles, whose health had always been languishing in 
 Scotland, had been brought to England, and placed by the 
 queen under the care of Sir Robert and Lady Carey ; and \ns 
 impi'oved health and beauty did credit to their management. 
 Anne of Denmark's maternal love was, however, wholly ab- 
 sorbed by her eldest son Henry, whom she loved with a 
 passion that showed too truly that her life was bound up in 
 his. Her young infants were tenderly loved, but her beautiful 
 daughter Elizabeth and her second son she treated rather with 
 indifference. Perhaps the proudest day of her life was the ex- 
 quisite water festival and pageant, in which all London shared, 
 the day Henry was created Prince of Wales. 
 
 The happiest period of Anne of Denmark's life was at this 
 time. She was much occupied with the beautiful masques Ini- 
 go Jones devised for her, and for which Ben Jonson wrote 
 some of his best poetry. In these she was the prima donna, 
 and her ladies took part in the characters. Unfortunately, the 
 prevalent custom of the farthingale, or hoop petticoat, turned 
 into caricature all the creations of Inigo and Ben Jonson, The 
 queen's stiff garments made her appear as if she were standing 
 in the midst of a table — the flowing robes of Grecian goddess 
 or nymph could not be thus represented. King James de- 
 clared that farthingales took up all the room in his palaces. 
 He forbade his guests at Whitehall to appear in that imper- 
 
1G12.J ANNE OF DENMARK. 433 
 
 tiuent garment, as he called it. Nevertheless, as the queeu 
 wore it, all his female subjects set his edicts at nought; and 
 the gentlemen took to wearing trunk-hose, scarcely occupying 
 less space. Once, all the guests stuck in the passages to the 
 banqueting-room at Whitehall, struggling and striving, while 
 the royal masque was played out solus. Yet that untoward 
 accident did not banish the ugly fashion m which the queen 
 delighted. 
 
 When the princess-royal, Elizabeth, was engaged to be mar- 
 ried to the count {)alatine, the queen, who had set her mind on 
 the marriage of her daughter with the King of Spain, gave 
 vent to her displeasure by calling her Goody Palsgrave. A 
 greater trouble was at hand ; her sou fell into rapid consump- 
 tion, concluding in the typhus fever prevalent at the close of 
 1612. 
 
 The queen had always shown childish terror of infection. 
 Now, when the prince took to his bed at his palace of St. 
 James, in October, she saw him no more, although her agonies 
 at his latul danger were fearful. The king sat by his son's 
 bedside till the crisis turned, and never left him while any 
 vitality remained ; then returned, bitterly grieving, to Holland 
 House, where he fell ill. The prince expired November 5, 
 1612. A lunar rainbow hung over the palace that night. 
 While many of the people were collected round St. James's, 
 bewailing the loss of the Prince of Wales, the rest were en- 
 gaged with riot and fireworks, burning the effigies of the Pope 
 and Guy Fawkes. 
 
 The queen's agony of grief exhaled itself as usual in angry 
 excitement. Slie accused many persons of poisoning her son. 
 She had sent to Sir Walter Raleigh, then prisoner at the Tow- 
 er, for some of his specific for the ague. She had taken it 
 herself Avith success. Unfortunately, he sent word that it 
 would cure any illness but poison. Her son took it, and was 
 much worse ; hence many stories are afloat that he was poi- 
 soned. 
 
 At the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth, February 14, 
 1612, with the count palatine, Anne of Denmark had not recov- 
 ered her health or spirits ; although all mourning was laid aside 
 at the bridal festivities, black still lingered on the queen's dress. 
 When her only surviving son young Charles was created 
 Prince of Wales, the memory of the loss of his brother pressed 
 so heavily on the royal mother's heart, that in tears and an- 
 guish she was forced to retire from the pageant. Her spirits 
 were somewhat renovated by an unexpected visit from the 
 Danish king her brother, who entered in his traveling dress 
 
 T 
 
434 QUEENS OF ENGLAND, [1619. 
 
 while she was at her toilet, and, throwing his arms round her 
 neck, kissed her while her hair was disheveled. 
 
 According to the popular saying, the queen scarcely ever 
 looked up after the loss of Henry. She took, nevertheless, 
 more to hunting than ever, but no longer delighted in masques 
 and brilliant courts. 
 
 Long visits to Bath, then the chief Hygeian spring of the 
 island, and the wasted appearance of the queen's person, re- 
 vealed the fact of her breaking-up health. She was absent 
 thus when the disgraceful crimes of Carr, Earl of Somerset, 
 and his wife broke out at her husband's court. Carr was the 
 king's favorite — the term that had designated the prime min- 
 ister of England ever since the days of Henry IH. Now he 
 is first lord of the treasury (no one ever charges him with 
 favoritism) ; iu the medieval ages he was often a churchman. 
 
 Queen Anne always detested Somerset; she suspected him, 
 very unjustly, of poisoning her beloved son Henry. King 
 James declared that for the future he would never have 
 favorite or minister whom his queen did not recommend. 
 Their choice fell upon George Villiers, afterward raised to 
 the dignity of Duke of Buckingham. He was always on 
 good terms with Anne of Denmark as long as her life lasted. 
 
 The queen had retired during the winter of 1618 and spring 
 of 1619 to Hampton Court, where a cough that had long tor- 
 mented her suddenly showed consumptive symptoms. King 
 James, who was ill himself, nevertheless traveled three times 
 every week to see her. Sick as she was, she was not so com- 
 pletely absorbed in her own sufferings as to forget her old 
 protege^ Sir Walter Raleigh, in his extremity, who made an 
 oai'uest appeal to her compassion in verse. These lines con- 
 clude with a passionate exhortation to 
 
 " Save him who would have died in your defense ! 
 Save him whose thoughts no treason ever tainted!" 
 
 This appeal induced the queen to make one of her last efforts 
 in state affairs by way of earnest intercession to save him from 
 the block, but in vain ; Raleigh Avas beheaded on the 29th of 
 October, 1618, soon after it was made. 
 
 How the queen received the news of the death of the 
 man she had protected for so long, is not known. Her own 
 life drew to its close. 
 
 She was making preparations to receive a visit from her 
 brother, Christiern of Denmark, at Oatlands. "March with 
 his winds," as King James says, in his sonnet on her death, 
 intercepted the visit of the royal Dane. The king himself 
 
1619.] ANNE OF DENMAKK. 435 
 
 was confined to his bed with the gont at Theobalds. Charles, 
 Prince of Wales, was in attendance on the dying queen ; and 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London 
 gave her religious consolation. She was in constant com- 
 munion with the rites of the English Church. Her extreme 
 dislike to the formalities about the death-beds of royal per- 
 sonages made her wish to die privately. When her lord and 
 lady attendants Avithdrew to supper, she bade her confidential 
 maid, called at court Danish Anna, lock the door, and keep all 
 intruders out. " Now," she said, " lie down on the bed by 
 me, and in seeing you sleep I shall feel disposed to sleep." 
 Soon she bade Danish Anna bring some water to wash her 
 eyes, and a candle, for it was dark. There were lighted can- 
 dles in the room. Still the queen asked for light. Then the 
 Danish attendant found that the darkness of death had in- 
 vaded her royal mistress's eyes ; and, frighted at being locked 
 up alone with her, she opened the chamber door. Hampton 
 Court clock then struck one. 
 
 Charles came and knelt by his dying mother's bedside, and 
 joined in prayers for her with the Bishop of London. Her 
 hand was guided to her son's head, and she distinctly gave 
 him her blessing. Her speech failed, but she was conscious of 
 the prayers offered for her, as she held up her right hand, 
 and when that failed the left; and when both failed she lay 
 sweetly smiling in her bed, till her breath departed in two or 
 .three little moans. 
 
 She expired in her forty-sixth year. Only two survived 
 her out of a family of four sons and three daughtei-s — Charles 
 L and Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, both singularly unfor- 
 tunate. 
 
 The remains of Anne of Denmark were taken in water pro- 
 cession down the Thames from Hamj^ton Coui-t to Somerset 
 House, where they lay in state till May 13, 1619. Her son, the 
 Prince of Wales, was chief mourner, and all the nobility in or 
 near London followed her to the grave at Westminster Abbey. 
 
 King James I. survived her seven years. 
 
 Queen Anne was an accomplished linguist, without delight- 
 ing in literature ; she spoke French intelligibly, and Italian, 
 so as to win great praise from Cardinal Bentivoglio. She 
 could read the Scriptures in the Latin vulgate ; German and 
 Danish, of course, she was skilled in. 
 
436 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [IGOD. 
 
 l"'|l'';""" ' I 
 
 Queen Henrietta Maria. From a paiuting by Vandyke. 
 
 HENEIETTA MAEIA, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF CHARLES I. 
 
 IIenkietta Maria was the sixth child and youngest daugh- 
 ter of Henry IV. of France, by his second wife, Marie de 
 Medicis. She was born at the Louvre, November 25, 1609. 
 Great as Henry was, he suffered his mind to be swayed by 
 predictions. He had been told that he should die the day 
 after his queen was croAvned. To her great mortification, he 
 would not permit that ceremony to be performed until after 
 the birth of his youngest daughter. The queen prevailed on 
 him to give orders for her coronation at St. Denis, where it 
 took place, when Henriette, who was only five months old, 
 was present, held in her nurse's arms, on one side of her moth- 
 
102:3.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 437 
 
 er's throne, suvrounded by her brothers and sisters — a group 
 of very beautiful children — the dauphin, too soon to be Louis 
 XIII., Gaston, Elizabeth, and Christine. The next day Hen- 
 ry IV. was assassinated by Ravillac in the streets of Paris, 
 May 13, 1610. 
 
 The royal children were barricaded all that dreary night in 
 the guard-room at the Louvre, next to the chamber where 
 the king's bleeding corpse lay. No one slept in the palace 
 excepting the infant Ilenriette, whose peaceful slumbers in 
 lier nurse's arms were in strange contrast to the grief and ter- 
 ror of all around, for it was believed that an insurrection 
 would follow the regicidal act. Again the infant princess ap- 
 ]}eared in her nurse arms, at the funeral of the royal hero of 
 France, and once more, at the coronation of her young broth- 
 er at Rheims, when she was only ten months old. Pier gov- 
 erness was Mademoiselle de Monglat, whom she used to call 
 Mamanga. She received her education from her brother Gas- 
 ton's school-master, M. de Bevis : she was the constant com- 
 panion of Duke Gaston, who was only eighteen months older 
 than herself. 
 
 Henriette was the darling of her mother, perhaps her spoil- 
 ed darling, for Maria de Medicis, queen-regent of France, was 
 neither wise nor judicious. When the queen was deprived of 
 the regency and her liberty, Henriette was jDermitted to share 
 her royal mother's captivity. 
 
 When the queen-mother recovered her liberty, the young 
 Henriette, not then fifteen, became the ornament of the court. 
 Anne of Austria, the young queen-consort of Louis XIII., 
 cherished love and friendship for her sister-in-law, of which 
 Henriette found the benefit in her worst fortunes. 
 
 When Henriette was only in her fourteenth year, she and 
 her future consort, Charles, Prmce of Wales, unknown to 
 each other, met at a ball in the palace of the king her brother, 
 early in February, 1028. The Prince of Wales and his father's 
 favorite minister, George Villiers, Earl of Buckingham, were 
 traveling incognito to Madrid, under the homely names of 
 Tom Smith and Jack Smith. The object of the Prince of 
 Wales was to see the infanta Donna Maria (with whom he 
 Avas engaged by the king his father in a treaty of marriage), 
 and to make acquaintance with her before they should be irrev- 
 ocably bound in wedlock. The prince and his companion 
 lialted at Paris, and went like others to see the Louvre, and 
 look at the royal family of France on the night of the ball. 
 Struck by their personal appearnnce, the Duke de Montbaznn 
 cave the handsome and distintruished-lookinccstramxcrs advan- 
 
438 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1623-1624. 
 
 tageous places in the hall of the Louvre, where Charles saw 
 the beautiful Henriette dance. The circumstance was after- 
 ward mentioned to Henriette, who sighed, and said, "Ah! 
 the Prince of Wales needed not have gone so far as Spain to 
 look for a wife." She had not noticed Jack Smith in the gal- 
 lery of the Louvre, yet she had seen portraits of Charles, who 
 was the most graceful prince in Europe. 
 
 The Spanish match was broken oif. Donna Maria afterward 
 married the Emperor of Germany. James I. demanded the 
 hand of the beautiful Henriette for his heir. 
 
 The Euglish people preferred having a daughter of the 
 Protestant hero, Henry the Great, for their queen, to the 
 grand-daughter of the cruel Philip IL of Spain. Unfortu- 
 nately, Henriette had been brought up in the most ignorant 
 bigotry by her mother. We have read a letter, very much 
 worn with often unfolding, of advice and instruction from this 
 queen to her daughter, regarding her conduct in England, in 
 which she mentions the belief of the English in the same 
 terms as if they were Jews. Such imputation the creed of 
 the Anglican Church no more deserved than her own. Un- 
 fortunately, her young daughter was utterly ignorant of all 
 history but that from prejudiced sources, as she afterward 
 deeply regretted to her friend Madame de Motteville. 
 
 The marriage articles were very tedious, and much dis- 
 puted ; a clause was left by the council of James I., giving his 
 son's consort power in the education of her children imtil their 
 thirteenth year ; a clause i-egretted by Charles, and which his 
 determination to break afterward, occasioned the only real 
 unhappiness in his married life. When all was ready for the 
 betrothal, James L died, March, 1624-5. 
 
 Some anxiety was shown lest the young king, Charles I., 
 should not ratify his father's treaty ; but the wooing ambassa- 
 dors, the Earls of Carlisle and Holland, had described the 
 young princess in such favorable terms that Charles was eager 
 to complete the agreement. In one of Holland's letters to 
 Charles she is thus mentioned : "Li truth, she is the sweetest 
 creature in France, and the loveliest thing in nature. I heard 
 her the othei- day discourse with her mother and her ladies 
 with wondrous discretion. She dances — the which I am wit- 
 ness of — as well as I ever saw. They say she sings most 
 sweetly ; I am sure she looks as if she did !" In the course 
 of a few days the Earl of Holland lieard this wonderful voice. 
 "I had been told much of it," he wrote; "but I find it true 
 that neither her singing-master, nor any man or woman in 
 Euroi)e, singeth as she doth ; her voice is beyond all imagina- 
 
1625.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 439 
 
 tion !" The musical and vocal powers of tlie queen-mother of 
 France, Marie de Medicis, were likewise of the finest order ; 
 and her youngest daughter had inherited from her, gifts lavish- 
 ly bestowed by nature on the children of Italy. 
 
 Pope Urban VIII. was exceedingly adverse to the English 
 marriage : he had been Henriette's godfather when he was 
 cardinal legate in France. He was unwilling to grant a dis- 
 pensation for his godchild wedding out of their Church ; put- 
 ting his objection on his duty to guard her happiness, rather 
 than the usual polemic wranglings. No one can deny that his 
 historical acumen was right in what he said — " If the Stuart 
 king relaxed the bloody penal laws against the Roman Catho- 
 lics, the English would not suffer him to live long. If they 
 were continued, what happiness could the French princess 
 have in her wedlock ?" These were words of wisdom, and 
 ought to have been heeded. But the unwise prejudice against 
 placing a princess on the English throne of lower rank than 
 the royalties of France or Spain, unduly influenced Jamds I., 
 or rather his English council, since he did not act thus in his 
 own case. 
 
 Charles I. and Louis XIII. resolved to proceed with the 
 betrothal without Urban's dispensation, which, of course, 
 caused it to be sent very quickly, Henriette and Charles I. 
 ■were betrothed. May 8, 1625, by proxy She was dressed in 
 a magnificent robe woven with gold and silver, and flowered 
 with French lilies in gems and diamonds. The marriage took 
 place three days afterward. The palace of the Archbishop of 
 Paris (but lately destroyed) stood just behind Notre Dame ; 
 a gallery-bridge connected it with that cathedral, hung with 
 violet satin, figured with gold fleur-de-lis ; the marriage pro- 
 cesssion passed over it fiom the palace to Notre Dame, The 
 bride was led by her young brother Gaston, and was given 
 away by the king, Louis Xtll. 
 
 The Duke de Chevreuse, a near kinsman of Charles I., was 
 his proxy ; he was attired in black velvet ; but over this plain 
 attire Avore a scarf flowered with diamond roses ; the queen- 
 mother shone like a pillar of precious stones ; her long train 
 Avas borne by two princesses of the blood, Conde and Conti. 
 The marriage took place in the porch of Notre Dame ; the 
 English ambassadors, and even the pi'oxy of England, out of 
 respect to the religious feelings of Charles I., withdrew from 
 Notre Dame during the concluding mass. 
 
 The Duke of Buckingham, ambassador-extraordinary from 
 England, arrived at the conclusion of the ceremony. He was 
 angry because he was too late — and certainly behaved in a 
 
440 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1625. 
 
 ra'ost extraordiiiaiy manner while in France. Subsequently, 
 he was on ill tei-ms with the young Queen of England. 
 
 The Duke of Buckingham caused many delays by his flighty 
 conduct. At last the cortege of the bride approached Bou- 
 logne. Charles I. came to Dover Castle to meet and wel- 
 come his queen. Her passage was dangerous. The king had 
 that Sunday retired to Canterbury, thinking the bride could 
 not embark in the storm. However, she landed at Dover, 
 June 23, 1625, at seven in the evening. At ten, next day, 
 the king arrived Avhile she was at breakfast ; he wished to 
 wait, for she had been very ill with sea-sickness. Yet the 
 bride rosie hastily from table, hasted down a pair of stairs 
 to meet the king, then offered to kneel and kiss his hand ; 
 but he wrapped her up in his arms with many kisses. " Sir, 
 I have come to your majesty's country to be commanded by 
 you," were the set words the poor bride had prepared for her 
 first siDcech to Cliarles, but her voice failed, and ended with a 
 gush of tears. Charles kindly led her apart, kissed oft' her 
 tears, and said he should do so while they fell. His tender- 
 ness soon soothed the weeping girl, and she entered into 
 familiar discourse Avith the royal lover. Charles seemed 
 pleased that she was taller than he had heard ; and, finding 
 she readied the height (if his shoulder, he glanced downward 
 at her feet. Her quickness caught his meaning, and she said 
 to him, in French, "I stand on my own feet ; I have no help 
 from art ; thus tall am I, neither higher nor lower," 
 
 The young queen then presented all her French attendants 
 to Charles, beginning with her cousin, the beautiful Madame de 
 St. George, formerly her governess, now her first lady of the 
 bed-chamber. To her the king very early took an antipathy. 
 
 The same eventful day, the bride, the king, and court set 
 out for Canterbury, where the marriage was to be celebrated. 
 On a beautiful extent of greensward, called Barham downs, 
 a banquet was prepared ; and in the pavilions the bride-queen 
 was introduced to the ladies of her English household, and the 
 noblemen and gentlemen appointed to her service. That 
 evening, Charles and Henrietta Avere married in the noble hall 
 of St. Augustine, Canterbury. 
 
 Next morning they embarked at Gravesend, the king choos- 
 ing to enter his capital by the grand highway of the Thames, 
 that he might show his bride the stately shipping of his noble 
 navy, which greeted the royal procession as it passed on its 
 progress up the stream Avith thundering salutes, while the river 
 was covered with thousands of boats and beautiful barges be- 
 longing to the nobility and merchants of London. A violent 
 
1G2().] HENRIETTA MARIA. 44I 
 
 ihunder-sliower came on as the procession nearecl tlie landing- 
 place at Whitehall; the queen, however, waved her hand re- 
 peatedly to the people. She was splendidly dressed ; like the 
 king, the color she wore was green. 
 
 Even in the first days of his marriage, Charles I. saw strong 
 reason to lament he had admitted the Roman Catholic colony 
 with his young queen. His position was extremely difficult ; 
 he foresaw all its dangers, and came early to the resolution of 
 neutralizing the worst features of the case. The queen was 
 childish in years ; her reason totally uncultivated ; she was, 
 moreover, alike ignorant of the language and history of the 
 country. Her confessor and her bishop were probably not 
 less bigoted than herself; and the king knew that their cele- 
 bration of rites, of which they would abate not one jot, Avas 
 the greatest offense in the eyes of his people. It was his ruin, 
 as the natural good sense of Henrietta afterward acknowl- 
 edged, in her confessions of passionate penitence to her friend, 
 Madame de Motteville. 
 
 Charles I. found great cause to regret the establishment of 
 his queen's Roman Catholic train of priests and attendants, 
 besides other injurious stipulations in the marriage treaty his 
 dying father's council had ratified. The queen was but an 
 unreasoning girl of sixteen, entirely guided by the unusually 
 large train she had about her. She .would not learn English, 
 and was encouraged by her French attendants to pay little 
 regard to the customs and prejudices of the nation over Avhich 
 her consort reigned. Thus, she would not be crowned, Feb- 
 ruary 2, 1626, lest she should join in the rites of the Church 
 of England ; she was the only Queen of England who ever re- 
 fused her coronation ; this deeply grieved her husband and 
 incensed his people, who never forgave the offense, as she 
 found afterward to her cost. 
 
 Charles Avas croAvned solus. Henrietta viewed the. corona- 
 tion procession from the palace gate-Avay by King Street. 
 Her French . officials Avere accused of capering irreverently 
 during the solemnity — as they were not in the abbey, that Avas 
 no great crime ; yet the next time Charles I. caught them 
 capering he made it an excuse for a general clearance. He 
 thus got rid of six ecclesiastics, many French ladies, especially 
 of Madame St. George, Avho claimed the privilege of occupy- 
 ing a seat in the royal carriage Avherever the king and queen 
 went, to the great annoyance of Charles. Her place, as the 
 queen's first lady, Avas filled by the Protestant Madame de la 
 Tremouille. Only Pere Gamache and another very quiet 
 humble priest Avere allowed for the service of his queen's 
 
 rp * 
 
442 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1626. 
 
 chapel by Charles I. Such innovations enraged the young 
 queen greatly ; she threw herself into agonies of rage at the 
 departure of her French attendants; and in her fury contrived 
 to break the windows of the king's closet or private apart- 
 ment at Whitehall, although he restrained her by keeping the 
 casement shut, and holding both her wrists, because he for- 
 bade her to bid them farewell when they embarked atWhite- 
 liall stairs. The king did not send them empty away; 22,000^. 
 was distributed among them ; nevertheless, the French wom- 
 en of the royal bed-chamber carried off all the queen's clothes, 
 as lawful perquisites, leaving, besides the dress she wore, only 
 an old gown and three chemises — not good for much. The 
 king tenderly soothed his afflicted consort, who seemed to be 
 reconciled; but before tlie close of the year, 1626, she mani- 
 fested such temper that Louis XIII. sent his father's old 
 friend, the Duke de Bassompierre, as ambassador-extraordi- 
 nary, to inquire into his sister's conjugal unhappiness. 
 - Mischief liad been made by the king's prime minister, the 
 Duke of Buckingham, as plainly may be seen by the royal let- 
 tors extant.* Since the times of Henry VIII. the boundai'ies 
 of the royal parks of Whitehall and St. James had been deco- 
 rated with gallows, and many of them loaded with human 
 heads and quarters. In the first month of Henrietta's arrival 
 in London, it was said .that her priests had caused her to 
 make a jiilgrimage to the gallows where the last Roman 
 Catholic priests had been put to death for their faith, that she 
 went barefoot, and knelt there praying. Bassompierre, who 
 talked until he lost his voice, and after great exertions, made 
 out this accusation, which the young queen utterly denied. 
 "She never was near the gallows," she said, "never at that 
 time knew Avhere it was, until lately when she was walking 
 with the king in Hyde Park." A fine terminus to the evening 
 walk of a fiiir young queen under eighteen ! Another tale was 
 embodied in council-minutes, "that the queen's priests had 
 made her, for penance, eat oif wooden trenchers." When 
 Bassompierre asked her, "How about the wooden platters?" 
 the queen disdained to reply. 
 
 Henrietta could not express herself in English, and Bassom- 
 pieiTc, her countryman, who knew not one word of it, certainly 
 argued her defense at a great disadvantage. However, he 
 privately gave Henrietta the good advice to humble her high 
 spirit to her husband, and endeavor to conciliate his friend. 
 
 * These letters of entertaining facts of Bassompierre's doings are to be 
 found in the "Lives of the Queens of England," by Agnes Strickland. 
 
JG27-1G30.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 443 
 
 The perverse Henrietta then qunrreled with liim, defied Buck- 
 ingham, and behaved worse tliau ever to Charles. But the 
 brave Frenchman, who had fought through the Huguenot 
 wars by her heroic father's side, and had known her fiom her 
 babyhood, of course looked upon her as on any other spoiled 
 girl of seventeen. He soon told her his mind, and induced 
 better behavioi-. Finally he left the royal pair much better 
 friends than he found them. 
 
 War soon after ensued between England and France. King 
 Charles supported the independence of Holland, which Cardi- 
 nal Richelieu had vainly tried to make him crush. He like- 
 wise fitted out a navy, and sent it to the relief of the French 
 Protestants. It was under the command of Buckingham, no 
 seaman, though brave enough. Of course the naval war was 
 unsuccessful. Before another expedition sailed, Buckingham 
 was assassinated at Portsmouth, August, 1628, by Felton the 
 fanatic. And with him ceased all Henrietta's married infelicity. 
 
 The Parliament of Charles refused all supplies for the war 
 in behalf of the Protestants, unless he consented to put to a 
 death of torture every Catholic priest exercising the rights of 
 his religion, and gave his veto for confiscating the property 
 of all Roman Catholics in his realm. Charles was more tor- 
 mented by the Roman Catholics than any man in his domin- 
 ions, and they would have done all they could against him ; 
 yet he was too good in heart and spirit to authorize such 
 wholesale robbery and murder. Pie thought the penal law al- 
 ready cruel enough, and perhaps he wished them to be put on 
 the same footing as the great Henry, his queen's father, had left 
 the French Protestants. 
 
 From this period may be dated the disunion between king 
 and Parliament. He ceased to summon it. If w^e may believe 
 Sir William Temple, the chief agitators against Charles in the 
 House of Commons were the bribed tools of his vowed enemy, 
 the powerful and unscrupulous French minister. Cardinal Rich- 
 elieu. 
 
 The queen had given birth to her first-born, a prince that 
 died as soon as christened. She next brought into the world. 
 May 29, 1630, another son, a fine babe, having the broAvn com- 
 plexion and strong features of the Queen of Navarre, Henriet- 
 ta's grandmother. The child was named Charles by Dr. 
 Laud, in St. James's Chapel. It is amusing to read the young 
 mother's opinion of the solemn ugliness of her first-born in the 
 following lettei', Avritten by her to her dear friend, Madame St. 
 George, then in France, and state governess-of Henrietta's 
 niece, Mademoiselle de Montpensier. • 
 
444 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G31-1G35. 
 
 " Mamie St. George : — The husband of the nurse of my son going to 
 France about some business, I write you this letter, believing you will be very 
 glad to ask him news of my son, of whom I think you have seen the portrait 
 I sent to the queen, my mother. He is so ugly that I am ashamed of him ; 
 but his size and fatness atone for his want of beauty. I wish you could see 
 the gentleman, for he has no ordinary mien. He is so serious that I can not 
 help deeming him far wiser than myself. 
 
 " Send me a dozen pair of sweet chamois gloves, also one pair of doe's 
 skin, a game of poule, and the rules of any games now in vogue. I assure 
 you that if I did not write to you often, it is not because I have left off lov- 
 ing you, but l)ecause — I must confess it — I am very idle Adieu ! the 
 
 man must have the letter. " 
 
 The queen gave birth to lier eldest daughter, November 4, 
 1631, at St. James's Palace. The babe was baptized Mary by 
 Dr. Laud. 
 
 V The king could not longer delay his coronation as King of 
 Scotland ; as for the queen, she refused investiture with 
 the crown-matrimonial of that realm even more pertinaciously 
 than she had done that of England. Within a few weeks of 
 her consort's return, she presented him with another son, born 
 atSt. James's, October 14, 1633, named James, in memory of his 
 grandfather. James I. Cliarles devoted his second son to the 
 marine service of his country, and caused his education to tend 
 to every thing naval. He became one of the greatest admi- 
 rals and marine legislators in the woi"ld, but one of the most 
 unfortunate of our kings. Tlie birth of the Princess Eliza- 
 beth occurred January 28, 1635. 
 
 Queen Henrietta was a fond mother, and bestowed all the 
 time she could on her nursery. Occasionally, her divine voice 
 was heard singing to her infant, as she lulled it in her arms, 
 filling the galleries of her palace with its rich cadences. Roy- 
 al etiquette forbade her gratifying unqnalitied listeners Avith its 
 enchanting melody. 
 
 At this period of her life Henrietta was heard to declare 
 herself the happiest woman in the M'orld ; happy as wife, 
 mother, and queen. Henrietta Maria was not only the queen, 
 but the beauty of the Bi'itish court ; she had about the year 
 1633 attained the perfection of her charms, in face and figure ; 
 she was the theme of every poet, the star of all beholders. 
 The moral life of Charles I., his conjugal attachment to his 
 queen, and the refined tastes of both, gave the court a degree 
 of elegance till then unknown. 
 
 In Vandyke's painting of Henrietta she is represented as 
 evidently very young; the features are delicate and pretty, 
 with a pale clear complexion, beautiful dark eyes and chestnut 
 hair. Her form is slight and exquisitely graceful. She is 
 
1G3S.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 445 
 
 dressed in wliite satin ; the bodice of the dress is nearly 
 liigh, with a large falling collar trimmed with points. The 
 bodice is made tight to the form, closed in front with bows of 
 cherry ribbon, and is finished from the waist with several 
 large tabs, richly embroidered. The sleeves are very fnll and 
 descend to the elbows, where they are confined by ruflles. 
 One arm is encircled with a narrow black bracelet, the other 
 with one of costly gems. She wears a string of pear-shaped 
 pearls about her neck ; a red ribbon tAvisted with pearls is 
 placed carelessly in her hair at the back of her head. She 
 stands by a table, and her hand rests on two red roses, which 
 are placed near the crown. 
 
 AH was peaceful at this juncture; the discontents of the 
 English i^eople while Charles I. governed without a parlia- 
 ment were hushed in grim repose, like the tropical winds be- 
 fore the burst of the typhoon. Prynne, in his abusive libel 
 called Histriomastrix, first interrupted this peace. He attack- 
 ed Henrietta for performing in masques played only in her 
 own family. He was condemned to the jjiilory by the Star 
 Chamber conclave. Henrietta, to her honor be it recorded, 
 did every thing in her power to save him from the infiiction 
 of his cruel sentence ; but even her intercession was fruitless. 
 Yet Prynne himself said, after the civil wars that ensued, " King 
 Charles when he took my ears should have taken my head." 
 
 Heni-ietta, though a very fond mother, did not indulge her 
 children in any thing Avhich was foolish or improper. The 
 following letter from her to her eldest son Cliarles, Prince 
 of "Wales, wiitten at the request of his governor, the Mar- 
 quis of Newcastle — Avho had been unable to induce the young 
 prince to swallow the physic which it was considerd necessa- 
 ry for him to take — is still preserved in the British Museum : 
 
 THE QUEEN TO HER SON CHARLES, PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 "Charles : — I am sorry that I must begin my first letter M'ith chiding 
 you, because I hear that you will not take physic. I hope it was only for 
 this day, and that to-morrow you will do it ; for if you will not, I must 
 come to you and make you take it; for it is for your health. I have given 
 orders to my Lord of Newcastle to send me word to-night whether you will 
 or not ; therefore I hope you will not give me the pains to go. And so I 
 rest your affectionate mother, Henriette Marie." 
 
 "To my dear son the prince, 1638." 
 
 The young prince, who was then only eight years old, felt 
 the pi'opriety of submitting to the maternal command, and 
 swallowed the dose ; but amused himself with writing this 
 sprightly little billet to his governor, dryly stating the reason 
 of liis declining the potion : 
 
446 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1630. 
 
 CHARLES, PRINCE OF WALES, TO HIS GOVERNOR, LORD NEWCASTLE. 
 
 "My Lord: — I would not have you take too much physic, for it doth 
 always make me worse ; and I think it will do the like with you. I ride 
 every day, and am ready to follow any other directions from you. Make 
 haste back to him that loves you. Charles P." 
 
 This letter is written between double-ruled lines in a round 
 text hand. 
 
 Some months after this the Princess Anne, the youngest 
 daughter of Charles I. and Queen Henrietta, a sweet, well- 
 trained infant of four years old, was stricken with mortal 
 sickness ; and being required to say her prayers, as the hour 
 of death was at hand, said, " she did not think she could re- 
 peat her long prayer," meaning the Lord's Prayer, " then ; 
 but she would say her short prayer ;" and then lisped out, 
 " Lighten mine eyes, O Lord, that I sleep not sleep of death," 
 and expired with these words on her innocent lips. 
 
 It is possible that Charles I. might have contended success- 
 fully with the inimical party that was arraying itself against 
 him, if he and his queen had not incurred the enmity of Car- 
 dinal Richelieu by granting an asylum in England to the 
 queen-dowager of France, Marie de Medicis, Henrietta's moth- 
 er, the object of that vindictive ecclesiastic's malice, whom he 
 had exiled from France, and pursued with unappeasable ha- 
 tred from every place in Europe where she sought shelter in 
 her adversity. Charles not only received her with unbounded 
 courtesy and respect, but traveled to meet the royal fugitive 
 at Harwich, where she landed, and conducted her in state to 
 London. When the royal carriage in which Charles and his 
 guest were seated arrived at the great quadrangle of St. 
 James's Palace, Queen Henrietta, accompanied by her chil- 
 dren, Charles, Prince of Wales, the little Duke of York, and 
 the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth, descended the stairs to 
 receive her royal mother. She even attempted to open the 
 carriage door with her own hands ; and the moment her 
 mother alighted she sunk on her knees to receive her blessing, 
 and her example was followed by her children, who all knelt 
 round her. 
 
 Marie de Medicis was a woman of weak judgment, and 
 proved a troublesome visitor. Charles and Henrietta, whose 
 affiiirs were in a very difficult position, had great cause to 
 regret her visit, which lasted nearly two years. 
 
 The queen-mother, Marie de Medicis, was given forty grand 
 apartments in St. James's Palace. She brought a great num- 
 ber of priests with her, which added to the rage of the people ; 
 and the kind's affi\irs went from bad to worse. Charles was 
 
1G41-1642.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 447 
 
 corajjelled to give up his great minister Straftbrd to the axe, 
 who was condemned by Parhament for having served him too 
 faithfully. Henrietta exerted herself to support him ; she 
 often wanted judgment, but her courage never failed. 
 
 In the midst of the awful scenes of Strafford's impeach- 
 ment, trial, and death, the princess-royal was espoused to the 
 young Prince of Orange ; he was but eleven, and the bride 
 te'n years old. Henrietta made no opposition to this Protes- 
 tant alliance. She had hoped that this proof of the king's at- 
 tachment to the Protestants would silence the cries of popery 
 against him ; but those cries were got up for party purposes 
 by those intent on plunder, to whom all creeds were indiffer- 
 ent. After her mother had quitted England, and the king 
 had departed, with the attempt to pacify Scotland, the royal 
 family assembled round her were of tender ages. They were 
 soon separated, some of them never to meet again. Charles, 
 Prince of Wales, was eleven years of age, Mary, the young 
 bride of Orange, ten, James, Duke of York, seven, Elizabeth 
 six, and Henry, Duke of Gloucester, a babe in arms. When 
 alarms occurred at night, the queen more than once armed 
 her household, and herself headed their patrole about Oatlands 
 Park ; thus personally guarding her slumbering little ones. 
 
 The king had received such proofs in Scotland of Riche- 
 lieu's bribery of the five members of Parliament, that he went 
 to arrest Mr. Pym and his colleagues in person. Unfortunate- 
 ly, he had confided to the queen his intent, and told her at 
 such an hour all his regal perplexities would cease. The 
 queen put misplaced confidence in one of her attendants. 
 Lady Carlisle, a spy leagued with the agitators ; to this 
 treacherous person she told her royal husband's intentions. 
 Lady Carlisle sent instantly woi'd to the factious members, 
 who escaped. As Whitehall was close to the House of Com- 
 mons, the affair was easy, the king being delayed awhile by 
 poor persons' petitions on the w^ay. Long after, Henrietta 
 related this event to her biographer with the most passionate 
 penitence. " Not a reproach," she said, " did Charles give me 
 when I threw myself into his arms, and confessed my fault of 
 tattling." 
 
 Such was the state of affairs when Henrietta proposed to 
 escort her young daughter, the bride of Orange, to Holland. 
 Her real object was to sell some valuable jewels, and obtain 
 arms for defense there. The king attended his wife and 
 daughter to Dover, where they embarked, February 24, 1642. 
 As the wind was favorable for coasting, the king rode many 
 miles, following the vessel along the winding of the shores, his 
 
448 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1643. 
 
 teaiful eyes gazing after those dear ones he feared he never 
 should behold again. The royal standard was raised at Not- 
 tingham, and civil war occurred as soon as the queen depart- 
 ed. 
 
 Medal of (Jhiirlea I. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Henrietta met her mother again in Holland, and stayed 
 nearly twelve months, during which time her business was 
 performed with no little skill and sagacity. The Dutch myn- 
 heers, grateful both to the King of England, and to the exiled 
 queen-mother of France, for their political existence, did not 
 send Henrietta empty away. She embarked for return Feb- 
 ruary 2, 1643, in a fine ship called the Princess Royal ; but 
 fierce tempests arose, and the northeast g.ales, after many 
 days, threw the queen back from whence she came on the 
 Avild Scheveling coast. Henrietta bore the terrors of the 
 storm with liigh courage, replying to her ladies, when they 
 M-ere screaming and lamenting round her, " Queens of En- 
 gland ai-e never drowned." 
 
 After a few days' rest and refreshment the undaunted Hen- 
 rietta again set sail, followed by Admiral ^an Tromp's Dutch 
 fleet, which kept out of sight of the English shores, when she 
 and her armed transports arrived in Burlington Bay, York- 
 shire. A troop of two hundred cavaliers appeared on the 
 liills, and under that protection the queen's transports safely 
 landed their ammunition and stores. 
 
 The sleep of the queen was broken at dawn next day by the 
 parliamentary Admiral Batten bombarding the town of Bur- 
 lington. The queen had been voted guilty of high treason ; 
 so this hero was trying to take her life. She fled as soon as 
 
1G44.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 449 
 
 ilressed ; but directly sbe was in a place of shelter, remember- 
 ing that an old dog named Mitte, which had guarded her 
 chamber for years, was left at the mercy of the parliamentary 
 admiral, despite of her attendants, she ran back through Bur- 
 lington to her sleeping-chamber, caught up Mitte in her arms, 
 and fled back to the dry ditch where she could couch while 
 the balls flew over her head. Van Tromp came up with the 
 tide to the rescue, but his ships were too big to enter Bur- 
 lington quay. Nevertheles-s, lie mauled Batten in the rear. 
 Meantime tlie queen, witli Mitte and her ladies, obtained hos- 
 pitality at Boynton Hall, close by, the seat of Sir William 
 Strickland.* 
 
 The cavaliers of Yorkshire and Lancashire poured in to swell 
 her forces. Prince Rupert met her at the head of his victo- 
 rious cavalry ; and she was welcomed by her king on his own 
 victorious field of Keinton, near Edgehill. 
 
 For a few months the beautiful city of Oxford was the seat 
 of the English court, over which Queen Henriettii presided. 
 Hope existed among the cavaliers that the discontents of the 
 people would be finally silenced by force of arms. The queen 
 afterward reproached herself that she was too much flushed 
 with success to plead with earnestness for the peace which the 
 whole people now desired. Her triumphs had been dearly 
 bought ; chronic rheumatic fever had seized on her delicate 
 frame, owing to the hardships of her campaign. The king's 
 fortunes changed; the year 1644 opened disastrously, and the 
 poor queen had to seek a safer shelter than Oxford, as she was 
 near her accouchement. Charles I. escorted his beloved con- 
 sort to Abingdon; and there, on April 3, 1644, with stream- 
 ing tears and dark forebodings, this loving pair parted. The 
 queen sought relief from the fever at Bath, but there she could 
 not stay ; it was an abode of horror ; the dreadful civil war had 
 filled the bright city full of decaying corpses. 
 
 Henrietta took shelter in loyal Exeter, and there gave birth 
 to her daughter, afterward Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans. 
 The queen-regent of France, her sister-in-law, generously sent 
 her 50,000 pistoles. Henrietta reserved very little for her own 
 needs, but sent the bulk of the sum to her husband. In less 
 than ten days the Earl of Essex commenced his march, intend- 
 ing to drag the sick queen from her childbed, to be tried be- 
 fore his masters of the Parliament for levying war in England. 
 His approach on this manly errand caused Ihe sick queen to 
 
 * See many more of her nd ventures in her letters to the king, " Lives of 
 tlie Queens of England," vol. v. 
 
450 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1645. 
 
 rise and fly, leaving her babe in Exeter, to the care of Lady 
 Morton. The queen went through great dangers by the way,* 
 but at last embarked with her faithful ladies (who joined her 
 in various disguises) on boai-d a little bark bound for Dieppe. 
 It was chased and even cannonaded by a parliamentary cruiser. 
 Her ladies sent forth piercing shrieks as a shot struck the ves. 
 sel. Tiie daughter of Henry the Great compressed her lips, 
 and uttered not a cry. At the moment all seemed lost, a little 
 fleet of Dieppe vessels issued out of the port of loyal Jersey, 
 when the enemy made off. Then a storm sprang up, which 
 drove the queen on the coast of Bretagne, where she landed 
 at Chastel. 
 
 Great was the love with which Henrietta was received by 
 the queen-regent and her young sons and all the French peo- 
 ple. Anne of Austria gave her distressed sister-in-law 12,000 
 crowns per month, and inducted her into the royal apartments 
 of the Louvre, the young king leading her to them by the 
 hand. All the money Henrietta received she sent to the king 
 her husband, reserving the smallest modicum for her own use. 
 The fever hanging on her in France, in order that she might 
 be near the baths of Bourbon for its cure, the queen-regent 
 lent her the castle and park of Nevers. Her convalescence 
 was stopped by an accident that grieved her. One of her 
 most efticient aids in her misfortunes was her dwarf, Geoffrey 
 Hudson. He had lately saved her life in her desperate retreat 
 from Exeter ; and she had found him faithful in all her for- 
 tunes, ever since the little man had stepped out of a cold pie 
 to the side of her plate at Nonsuch ; he was at that time 
 eighteen years old, and eighteen inches high. He had grown 
 four or five inches since he had been in royal service, and done 
 heroic deeds. During the retirement at Nevers one of the 
 queen's gentlemen of the household tormented and mocked 
 Geofi'rey, until the brave little man, who contrived to manage 
 his steed better than many horsemen four feet taller, chal- 
 lenged Croft to fight him in the park at Nevers. The joking 
 cavalier armed himself with a huge squirt, but Geoffrey took 
 a pistol ; and, as his hand was as unerring as his heart was 
 bold, his persecutor fell at the first fire. Croft only met with 
 his deserts ; yet Queen Henrietta had to write very humbly 
 to the all-powerful prime minister. Mazarine, that " Lc Jofroy," 
 as she called the little man, might not be put to death. 
 
 Lettei'S perpetixaliy passed between the sick queen and her 
 husband. Love-letters they were, in the truest sense of the 
 
 * See "Lives of the Queens of England." 
 
1G47-1648.] HENEIETTA MARIA. 451 
 
 terra. The heart of Henrietta yearned for the little babe she 
 had left at Exeter. When the king raised the siege of that 
 city the infont was presented to him, and he caused her to be 
 baptized by the name of her absent mother, Henrietta ; but 
 he was comijelled to leave her under the care of his loyal lieges 
 in the west. When all was lost on the king's side, Lady Mor- 
 ton escaped with this little one to France, in the disguise of a 
 pedlar-woman, taking the royal infant of two years old on her 
 back, disguised as a beggar-boy. Often the little princess, 
 who did not approve of the change, tried to tell the wayfarers 
 on the Dover road that " she was not Pierre the beggar-child, 
 but the princess." No one understood her babble but her 
 loving guardian, who succeeded in getting her charge safe to 
 Paris and the queen. " Oh, the joy of that moment," wrote 
 Pere Gamache, who saw the meeting between the royal moth- 
 er and the babe, lost and again found. " How many times 
 v.e saw her clasp her, kiss her, and then kiss her over again. 
 The queen called her the child of benediction, and charged me 
 to teach her the Roman Catholic faith." And this, of course, 
 was turned against King Charles, then enduring the worst 
 malice of his enemies in England. 
 
 The flames of civil war spread from England to France.^ 
 and Paris was, before the close of 1647, involved in the war 
 of the Fronde. It was occasioned by quarrels concerning tax- 
 ation. Anne the queen-regent and her children retired to St. 
 Germains ; but the extreme love the citizens of Paris bore to 
 Queen Henrietta made her stay at the Louvre, where she could 
 obtain earlier intelligence of King Charles, who after enduring 
 imprisonment in various i^laces, was soon to be put on what 
 his enemies called a trial. 
 
 Meantime winter in its most terrific form had set in. Fam- 
 ine reigned, as it usually does in civil war. Queen Henrietta 
 had sent all her money to her distressed husband. Her officers 
 had none to buy food, and had dispersed themselves in Paris 
 to save her the cost of feeding them. Fierce battles were 
 fought hourly in the streets. In the broils Queen Henrietta 
 and her little daughter were forgotten. She was then writing 
 to the French ambassador at London concerning the impend- 
 ing fate of her husband. She felt neither hunger nor the 
 freezing atmosphere in this absorbing occupation. Providence 
 guided M. de Retz, who was all-powerinl Avith the Paris 
 Parliament, to visit the hapless queen. She was sitting by 
 the bed side of her little child. " You find me," said the queen, 
 calmly, "keeping company with my Henrietta. I would not 
 let the poor child rise to-day, for Ave have no fire." De Retz 
 
452 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1G48. 
 
 immediately sent the queen relief from his own resources, 
 which she thankfully accepted, and then exerted his eloquence 
 so successfully in the Parliament, by mentioning the distresses 
 of the daughter of Henry the Great and her child, that a boun- 
 tiful supply was accorded. 
 
 Charles I. and his Armor Bearer. Vandyke. 
 
[1049. UENKIETTA MAlilA. 453 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 We must leave Henrietta for a wliile in Paris, to follow her 
 hapless husband to the close of his tragic fate. The king had 
 heard, from time to time, of the preparation of a court to try 
 him. Murder he expected. He was brought prisoner to Lon- 
 don, January 15, 1648-9, and taken to St. James's Palace, 
 where, for the first time, he was deprived of royal attendance, 
 and left alone with his faithful Herbert, who fortunately was 
 sufficiently literary to be the historian of his master's progress 
 to his untimely tomb. 
 
 Violent expulsions had taken place from the intimidated 
 House of Commons, until only sixty-nine members remained, 
 who thought themselves fitted for the task of king-killing. 
 Yet some found themselves mistaken as to the hardness of 
 their hearts, when they saw their king face to face, and heard 
 him speak. 
 
 Tills small junta met privately in the Painted Chamber, Jan- 
 uary 20. Cromwell's purple face was seen to turn very pale; 
 he ran to the window, where he saw his captive king advanc- 
 ing between two ranks of soldiers from Cotton House. " Here 
 he is ! here he is !" exclaimed he, with great animation ; " the 
 hour of the great aftair approaches. Decide speedily what an- 
 swer you will give him, for he will immediately ask by what 
 authority you pretend to judge him." The mere sight of the 
 scanty number of the commons, with the army choking every 
 avenue to Westminster, up to the door of the hall, offered 
 forcible answers to the illegality of this arraignment ; but brute 
 force is not obliged to be logical. Bradshawe, a serjeant-at- 
 law of no practice, was the president, wearing a high Puritan 
 hat lined inside with iron. The regicidal junta entered the 
 hall, its great gate was set open, and the populace rushed into 
 all the vacant spaces. While the king was on his way to 
 Westminster Hall, his anxious people crowded as near to his 
 person as possible, crying, " God save your majesty !" The 
 soldiers beat them back with their partisans, and some of the 
 men in Colonel Axtel's regiment raised the cry of " Justice — 
 justice ! execution !" But as their commander was bestowing 
 on them vigorous canings, the cry was ambiguous. The king 
 entered, conducted under the guard of Colonel Hacker and 
 
454 QUEENS OE ENGLAND. [1649. 
 
 thirty-two officers. His eyes were bright and powerful ; his 
 features cahii and composed, yet bearing the traces of care and 
 sorrow, which had scattered early snows on his hair. He re- 
 garded the tribunal with a searching look, never moved his 
 hat, but seated himself with calm majesty. 
 
 An argument ensued between the royal prisoner and Brad- 
 shawe, on the point of whether the monarchy of England was 
 elective or not ; and when the man of law was worsted in the 
 dispute, he hastily adjourned the court. The king was taken 
 from the hall amid the irrepressible cries of " God bless your 
 majesty! God save you from your enemies!" Such was the 
 only part that the people of England took in the trial of Charles 
 the First. 
 
 The king's conduct caused perplexing discussions among his 
 destroyers ; they sat in council during the intervening day of 
 his trial, devising petty schemes for breaking his moral cour- 
 age, and impairing that innate majesty which is beyond the 
 power of brute force to depose. Some base spirits among 
 them proposed that his hat should be pulled off, and that two 
 men should hold his head between them ; and that he should 
 be dressed up in his robes and crown, meaning to divest him. 
 ignominiously of them. As far as mere bodily means went, 
 Charles was utterly helpless, yet the calm power of his de- 
 meanor preserved him from the personal obloquy their malice 
 had contrived : they butchered him, but could not succeed in 
 degrading him. 
 
 Seven agitated days passed away, difring which the king had 
 appeared thrice before his self-constituted judges, when, on the 
 27th of January, alarmed by the defection of their numbers, 
 the regicides resolved to doom their victim without farther 
 mockery of justice. The king, for the fourth time, was brought 
 before the remnant of the regicidal junta. Bradshawe was robed 
 in red, a circumstance from which the king drew an intima- 
 tion of the conclusion. When the list of the members was 
 read over, few of them answered : but they proceeded with 
 the miserable remnant. As the clerk pronounced the name of 
 Fairfax, a voice cried out, "Not such a fool as to come here 
 to-day." When the name of Cromwell was called, the voice 
 exclaimed, " Oliver Cromwell is a rogue and a traitor." 
 When Bradshawe mentioned " The Commons of England as- 
 sembled in Parliament," " It is false," again responded the 
 voice ; " not one half-quarter of them." The voice was a fe- 
 male one, and issued from amid some masked ladies. The 
 oaths and execrations of the ruffian commander Axtel were 
 heard above an uproar raised by the populace, commanding 
 
1649.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 455 
 
 his soldiers, " Fire — fire into the box where she sits !" A 
 lady arose and quitted the gallery. She was Lady Fairfax. 
 Her husband Avas still in power : the ruffian Axtel dared not 
 harm her. This lofty protest against a public falsehood will 
 remain as an instance of moral and personal female courage, 
 till history shall be no more. The earnest letter the queen 
 liad written, entreating the Parliament and army to permit 
 her to share her royal husband's prison, may be remembered. 
 It is known that she wrote to Fairfax on the same subject. 
 The conduct of the general's wife was probably the result of 
 Henrietta's tender appeal. 
 
 Bradshawe was proceeding to pass sentence on the king, 
 who demanded the whole of the members of the House of 
 Commons, and the lords who were in England, to be assem- 
 bled to hear it, when one of the regicides. Colonel Downes, 
 rose in tears, exclaiming, " Have we hearts of stone ? are we 
 men ?" — " You will ruin us, and yourself too," whispered Mr. 
 Cawley, one of the members, pulling him down on one side, 
 while his friend Colonel Walton held him down on the other. 
 " If I die for it," said Colonel Downes, " no matter." — " Col- 
 onel !" exclaimed Cromwell, who sat just beneath him, turning 
 suddenly round, " are you mad ? Can't you sit still ?" — 
 "No," answered Downes, "I can not, and will not sit still." 
 Then rising, he declared that his conscience would not permit 
 him to refuse the king's request. " I move that we adjourn 
 to deliberate." Bradshawe complied, probably lest Downes's 
 passionate remorse should become infectious, and the junta 
 retired. Cromwell angrily exclaimed, in reference to Downes, 
 "He wants to save his old master; but make an end of it, 
 and return to your duty." Colonel Harvey supported 
 Downes's endeavors, but all they obtained was one-half hour 
 added to the king's agony. The dark conclave returned amid 
 a tumult of piteous prayers of the people, of " God save the 
 king ! God keep you from your enemies !" The sentence 
 was passed in the midst of confusion ; the king, who in vain 
 endeavored to remonstrate, was dragged away by the soldiers 
 who surrounded him. As he was forced down the stairs, the 
 grossest personal insults were offered him. Some of the 
 troopers blew tobacco-smoke in his face ; some spat on him ; 
 all yelled in his ears " Justice — execution !" The real bitter- 
 ness of death to a man of Charles the First's exquisite sensi- 
 tiveness occurred in that transit ; the block, the axe, the scaf- 
 fold, and all their ghastly adjuncts, could be met, and were 
 met, with calmness ; the spittings and bufietings of the brutal 
 mob were harder to be borne. 
 
456 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1649. 
 
 The king recovered his serenity before lie arrived at the 
 place where his sedan stood. How could it be otherwise? 
 The voices of his affectionate people, in earnest prayers for 
 his deliverance, rose high. One, and a soldier, close to him, 
 echoed the cry of the people — " God help and save your maj- 
 esty !" His commander struck him to the earth. " Poor 
 fellow!" said the king; "it is a heavy blow for a small of- 
 fense." As the royal victim approached his chair, his bearers 
 pulled off their hats, and stood in reverential attitudes to re- 
 ceive him. This unbought homage again roused the wrath of 
 Axtel, who, with blows of his indefatigable cudgel, vainly en- 
 deavored to prevail on the poor men to cover their heads. 
 
 He bade Herbert refuse admittance to his friends if they 
 came. The night of liis condemnation he was deprived of 
 rest by the knocking of the workmen, who were commencing 
 the scaffold for his execution. In the restless watches of that 
 perturbed night, Charles finished his best devotional verses. 
 
 The king was removed from Whitehall, Sundny, January 
 28, to St. James's Palace, where he heard Bishop Juxon 
 preach in the private chapel. " I wanted to preach to the 
 poor wretch," said the zealous fanatic, Hugh Peters, in great 
 indignation, " but the poor wretch would not hear me." 
 When Bishop Juxon entered the presence of his cajDtive sov- 
 ereign, he gave way to the most violent burst of sorrow, 
 " Compose yourself, my lord," said the king, " we have no time 
 to waste on grief; let us, rather, think of the great matter. I 
 must prepare to appear before God, to whom, in a few hours, 
 I have to render my account. I hope to meet death Avitli 
 calmness. Do not let us speak of the men in whose hands I 
 have fallen. They thirst for my blood — they shall have it. 
 God's will be done ; I give him thanks. I forgive them all 
 sincerely ; but let us say no more about them." It was with 
 the greatest difficulty that the two sentinels appointed by the 
 regicidal junta could be kept on the other side of the door 
 while his majesty was engaged in his devotions. 
 
 The next day the royal children arrived from Sion House 
 to see their parent for the last time. He had not been in- 
 dulged with a sight of them since his captivity to the army, 
 and on the morrow he was to die ! The Princess Elizabeth 
 burst into a passion of tears at the sight of her father, and 
 her brother, the little Duke of Gloucester, wejDt as fast for 
 company. The royal father consoled and soothed them, and, 
 when he had solemnly blessed them, drew them to his bosom. 
 The young princess, who was but twelve, has left her remi- 
 niscences of this touching interview in manuscript : " He told 
 
1649.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 457 
 
 me that he was glad I was come, for, though he had not time 
 to say much, yet somewhat he wished to say to me which he 
 could not to another, and he feared 'the cruelty' was too 
 great to permit his writing. ' But, sweetheart,' he added, 
 'thou wilt forget what I tell thee.' Then, shedding abun- 
 dance of tears," continues the princess, " I told him that I 
 would write down all he said to me. 'He wished me,' he 
 said, ' not to grieve and torment myself for him, for it was a 
 glorious death he should die, it being for the laws and religion 
 of the land.' He told me what books to read against popery. 
 He said ' that he had forgiven all his enemies, and he hoped 
 God would forgive them also ; and he commanded us, and 
 all the rest of my brothers and sisters, to forgive them also,' 
 Above all, he bade me tell my mother, ' that his thoughts had 
 never strayed from her, and that his love for her would be 
 the same to the last;' withal he commanded me (and my 
 brother) to love her, and be obedient to her. He desired me 
 ' not to grieve for him, for he should die a martyr, and that 
 he doubted not but God would restore the throne to his son ; 
 and that then we should be all happier than we could possi- 
 bly have been if he had lived.' Then, taking my brother 
 Gloucester on his knee, he said, ' Sweetheart, now will they 
 cut off thy father's head.' Upon which the child looked 
 very steadfastly upon him. ' Heed, my child, Avhat I say : 
 they will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee a king. 
 But mark what I say: you must not be a king as long as your 
 brothel's Charles and James live; therefore, I charge you, do 
 not be made a king by them.' At which the child, sighing 
 deeply, replied, ' I will be torn in pieces first.' And these 
 words, coming so unexpectedly from so young a child, re- 
 joiced my father exceedingly. And his majesty spoke to him 
 of the welfare of his soul, and to keep his religion, command- 
 ing him to fear God, and he would provide for himJ- • All 
 which the young child earnestly promised." The king fer- 
 vently kissed and blessed his children, and called to Bishop 
 Juxon to take them away : they sobbed aloud. The king 
 leaned his head against the window, trying to repress his 
 tears, when, catching a view of them as they went through 
 the door, he hastily came from the window, snatched them 
 again to his breast, kissed and blessed them once more ; then, 
 tearing himself from their tears and caresses, he fell on his 
 knees, and strove to calm, by prayer, the agony of that parting. 
 It ought not to be forgotten that the king had previously 
 waited several days before that appointed for his execution, 
 and had had the satisfaction of receiving a letter from his 
 
 U 
 
458 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1649. 
 
 f=!on Charles, by Mr. Seymour, a special messenger, enclosing a 
 carte blanche with his signature, to be filled up at pleasure. 
 In this paper the prince bound himself to any terms, if his 
 royal father's life might be spared. It must have proved a 
 cordial to the king's heart to find, in that dire hour, how far 
 family affection prevailed over ambition. The king carefully 
 burnt the carte blanche^ lest an evil use might be made of it, 
 and did not attempt to bargain for his life by means of con- 
 cession from his heir. 
 
 On the night preceding the awful day, Charles T. was bless- 
 ed with calm and refreshing sleep. He awoke before day- 
 break, undrew his curtain, and said to Herbert, "I will rise; 
 I have a great work to do this day." Herbert's hands trem- 
 bled while combing the king's hair. Charles, observing that 
 it was not arranged so well as usual, said, "Nay, though my 
 head be not to stand long on my shoulders, take the same 
 pains with it that you were Avont to do. Herbert, this is my 
 second marriage-day ; I would be as trim to-day as may be." 
 The cold was intense at that season, and the king desired to 
 have a warm additional shirt. "For," continued he, " the 
 weather is sharp, and probably may make me shake. I would 
 have no imputation of fear, for death is not terrible to me. I 
 bless my God I am prepared. Let the rogues come whenever 
 they please." He observed that he was glad he had slept at 
 St. James's, for the walk through the park would circulate his 
 blood, and counteract the numbness of the cold. Bishop 
 Juxon arrived by the dawn of day. He prayed with the king, 
 and read to liini the 27th chapter of the Gospel of St. Mat- 
 thew. 
 
 At ten o'clock the summons came to conduct the king to 
 Whitehall, and he went down into the park, through which 
 he was to pass. ''en companies of infantry formed a double 
 line on each side •'^f his path. The detachment of halberdiers 
 preceded him, w' .h banners flying and drums beating. On 
 the king's right nand was the bishop; on the left, Avith head 
 uncovered, walked Colonel Tomlinson. The king walked 
 through the park, as was his wont, at a quick, lively pace. 
 He Avondered at the slowness of his guard, and called out pleas- 
 antly, "Come, my good fellows, step on apace." One of the 
 officers asked him, "If it was true that he had concurred with 
 the Duke of Buckingham in causing his father's death?" 
 "My friend," replied Charles, Avith gentle contempt, " if I had 
 no other sin than that, as God knoAvs, I should have little need 
 to beg his forgiveness at this hour." The question has been, 
 cited as an instance of premeditated cruelty and audacity on 
 
1G49.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 459 
 
 the part of the officer. But this was the falsehood that had 
 injured him most among the common people. 
 
 As the king drew near Whitehall Palace, he pointed to a 
 tree in the park, and said to either Juxon or Tomlinson, "That 
 tree was planted by my brother Henry." There was a broad 
 flight of stairs from the park, by which access was gained to 
 the ancient palace of Whitehall. The king entered the palace 
 that way ; he ascended the stairs with a light step, passed 
 through the long gallery, and gained his own bedroom, where 
 he was left with Bishop Juxon, who administered the sacra- 
 ment to him, Nye and Godwin, two Independent ministers, 
 knocked at the door, and tendered their spiritual assistance. 
 "Say to them frankly," said the king, " that they have so oft- 
 en prayed against me, that they shall not pray with me in 
 mine agony. But if they will pray /or me now, tell them that 
 I shall be thankful." Dinner had been prepared for the king 
 at Whitehall ; he refused to eat. " Sir," said Juxon, " you 
 have fasted long to-day ; the weather is so cold, that faintness 
 may occur." " You are right," replied the king. He there- 
 fore took a piece of bread and a glass of wine. " Now," said 
 the king, cheerfully, " let the rascals come. I have forgiven 
 them, and am quite ready." But " the rascals" were not 
 ready. 
 
 A series of contests had taken place regarding the execu- 
 tioner and the warrant. Moreover, the military command- 
 ers, Huncks and Phayer, appointed to superintend the bloody 
 work, resisted alike the scoffings, the jests, and threats of 
 Cromwell, and had their names scratched out of the warrant ; 
 as to Huncks, he refused to write or sign the order to the ex- 
 ecutioner. This dispute occurred just before the execution 
 took place. Huncks was one of the officers who guarded the 
 king on his trial, and had been chosen f( '■ that purpose as the 
 most furious of his foes ; he had, like Tomlinson, became wholly 
 altered from the result of his personal ol ^-ervations. Colonel 
 Axtel and Colonel Hewson had, the precening night, convened 
 a meeting of thirty-eight stout sergeants of the army, to whom 
 they proposed, that whosoever among them Avould aid the 
 hangman in disguise, should have 100^. and rapid promotion 
 in the army. Each one refused, with disgust. Late in the 
 morning of the execution. Colonel Hewson prevailed on a ser- 
 geant in his regiment, one Hulet, to undertake the detestable 
 office ; and while this business was in progress, Elisha Axtel, 
 brother of the colonel, went by water to Rosemary Lane, be- 
 yond the Tower, and dragged from thence the reluctant hang- 
 jnan, Gregory Brandon, who Avas, by threats and the promise 
 
460 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1649. 
 
 of 30?. in half-crowns, induced to strike the blow. The dis- 
 guises of the executioners were hideous, and must have been 
 imposed for the purpose of trying the iirmness of the royal 
 victim. They were coarse woolen garbs buttoned close to the 
 body, which was the costume of butchers at that era. Hulet 
 added a long gray peruke, and a black mask, with a large grey 
 beard affixed to it. Gregory Brandon wore a black mask, a 
 black peruke, and a large flapped black hat, looped up in front. 
 
 It was past one o'clock before the grisly attendants and ap- 
 paratus of the scaifold were ready. Colonel Hacker led the 
 king through his former banqueting-hall, one of the windows 
 of which had originally been contrived to support stands for 
 public pageantries ; it had been taken out, and led to the plat- 
 form raised in the street. The noble bearing of the king as 
 he stepped on the scaftbld, his beaming eyes and high expres- 
 sion, were noticed by all who saw him. He looked on all sides 
 for his people, but dense masses of soldiery only presented 
 themselves far and near. He was out of hearing of any persons 
 but Juxon and Herbert, save those who were interested in his 
 destruction. The soldiers preserved a dead silence ; this time 
 they did not insult him. The distant populace wept, and oc- 
 casionally raised mournful cries in blessings and prayers for 
 him. The king uttered a short speech, to point out that every 
 institute of the original constitution of England had been sub- 
 verted wnth the sovereign power. While he was speaking, 
 some one touched the axe, which laid enveloped in black crape 
 on the block. The king turned round hastily, and exclaimed, 
 " Have a care of the axe. If the edge is spoiled, it will be the 
 worse for me." The executioner, Gregory Brandon, drew 
 near, and kneeling before him, entreated his forgiveness. 
 "No!" said the king; "I forgive no subject of mine who 
 comes deliberately to shed my blood." The king spoke as 
 became his duty as chief magistrate and the source of the laws, 
 which were violated in his murder. 
 
 The king put up his flowing hair under a cap ; then, turn- 
 ing to the executioner, asked, " Is any of my hair in the 
 way?" — "I beg your majesty to push it more under your 
 cap, " replied the man, bowing. The bishop assisted his royal 
 master to do so, and observed to him, " There is but one 
 stage more, which, though turbulent and troublesome, is yet 
 a very short one. Consider, it will carry you a great way — 
 oven from earth to heaven." — " I go," replied the king, " from 
 a corruptible to an incorruptible crown." He unfastened his 
 cloak, and took off the medallion of the order of the Garter. 
 The latter he gave to Juxon, saying, with emphasis, " He- 
 
1649.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 4^1 
 
 member !" Beneath the raedalUon of St. George was a secret 
 spring which removed a plate ornamented with lilies, under 
 which was a beautiful miniature of his Henrietta. The warn- 
 ing word, which has caused many historical surmises, evident- 
 ly referred to the foct that he only had parted with the por- 
 trait of his beloved wife at the last moment of his existence. 
 He then took oif his coat, and put on his cloak ; and pointing 
 to the block, said to the executioner, " Place it so that it will 
 not shake." — " It is firm, sir," replied the man. " I shall say 
 a short prayer," said the king ; " and when I hold out my hand 
 thus, strike." The king stood in profound meditation, said 
 a few words to himself, looked upward on the heavens, then 
 knelt, and laid his head on the block. In about a minute he 
 stretched out his hands, and his head was severed at one 
 blow. 
 
 A simultaneous groan of agony arose from the assembled 
 multitude at the moment when the fatal blow fell on the neck 
 of Charles I. It was the protest of an outraged people, suffering, 
 equally with their monarch, under military tyranny, and thof-e 
 who heard that cry remembered it with horror to their deaths. 
 When the king's head fell, Hulet, the grey-beard mask, came 
 forward to earn his bribe and subsequent promotion. Ho 
 held up the bleeding head, and vociferated, " This is the liead 
 of a traitor!" A deep and angry murmur from the people 
 followed the announcement. Two troops of horse, advancing 
 in different directions, dispersed the indignant crowd. Hulet, 
 in his anxiety to gain his stipulated reward, did more than 
 was required, for he dashed down the dissevered head of the 
 king, yet warm with life, and bruised one cheek grievously — 
 an outrage noted with sorrow. The king was buried in St. 
 George's Chapel, Windsor ; the burial service was not permit- 
 ted. The body was, when it was conveyed for interment to 
 Windsor, followed by Bishop Juxon and the six attached 
 gentlemen who had attended on the king in all his wanderings. 
 The king had expressed a wish to be interred by his father in 
 the royal chapel in Westminster Abbey, but Cromwell for- 
 bade it, having, from an absurd species of ambition, reserved 
 that place for himself. 
 
 The trial, death, and burial of Charles I. had taken place be- 
 fore Queen Henrietta, besieged as Paris was from without, and 
 her p^ace of abode, the Louvre, beset from within, could re- 
 ceive the least intelligence concerning him. Meantime, her 
 second son James, the young Duke of York, who had escaped 
 from the custody of the republican English, was brought to 
 her throufrh the beleaccuering: lines of Paris. His arrival 
 
462 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1649. 
 
 raised her spirits very Iiigh, too soon to be crashed. Whis- 
 pers of the dire events in England had transpired through her 
 circle at the Louvre ; her English household gazed aghast on 
 the unconscious widow, marveling how the tidings were to be 
 told her. Such awe-struck looks caused her inquiries, but the 
 answers she received almost stopped the springs of her life ; 
 when at last the queen comprehended her loss with all its 
 frightful facts, she stood motionless as a statue, without words 
 and without tears. " To all we could say our queen was deaf — 
 frozen in her grief," writes Pere Gamache ; " at last, awed by 
 her appalling grief, we became silent, with tearful looks bent 
 on her. So passed the time till night-fall. When her aunt, 
 the Duchess de Vendome, whom she loved much and we had 
 sent to, in fear for the queen's life, came, she gently took the 
 hand of the royal widow, kissed it, remained silent, and wept. 
 Then Henrietta felt the relief of tears. She was able to sigh 
 and weep when her little daughter, then four years old, was 
 brought to her ; and though she felt it hard to part with her, 
 yet she longed to retire to some quiet place where she might, 
 as she said, ' weep at will.' " The convent of the Carmelites, 
 St. Jacques, was the place to which she retreated, with one 
 or two of her ladies. 
 
 The queen-regent of France sent Madame de Motteville to 
 her afflicted sister of England. The sympathy felt for the af- 
 flicted daughter of their great Henry, induced the Frondo- 
 neers to let this lady pass their lines. " I Avas," she says, " ad- 
 mitted to her bedside. The queen, Henrietta, gave me her 
 hand while sobs choked her speech. ' I have lost a crown,' 
 she cried, ' but that I have long ceased to regret ; it is the 
 husband for whom I grieve ; good, just, wise, virtuous as he 
 was, most worthy of my love and that of his subjects ; the fu- 
 ture time must be for me but one succession of torture.' " 
 Henrietta then sent important messages of advice to her sister- 
 queen on her aftairs, implored her to seek and hear the truth 
 before it was too late, which, if her Charles or herself had 
 ever been told, affairs needed not have taken the fatal turn 
 that she should ever mourn. Queen Henrietta then asked 
 that her newly-arrived son, the Duke of York, might be given 
 the same allowance as his brother, now called by all her exiled 
 court Charles II. 
 
 Before the violence of grief was abated, it became needful 
 that Queen Henrietta should leave Paris for St. Gerraains, 
 where the court of France then was. The transit was danger- 
 ous, but it is from the superabundant spite of the English re- 
 publican news-letters the fact is revealed that the young King 
 
1650-1660.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 463 
 
 of England, in his deep mourning for his father, rode by the 
 side of his mother's carriage, guarding her from the infuriated 
 rabble. The queen-regent of P^'rance and her sons were wait- 
 ing at Chatou to comfort them by every kindness after this 
 terrible journey. Henrietta's next trouble was parting from 
 her son Charles II. for his adventurous attempts in Scotland 
 aud England. After the failure of the royal cause at the hard- 
 fought battle of Worcester, the young king retired into exile 
 at Cologne. Queen Henrietta had to weep the sad death of 
 her beautiful daughter Elizabeth, who died broken-hearted in 
 her cruel imprisonment, at Carisbrook Castle. The indignation 
 of all Europe obliged the English republicans to send the young 
 Duke of Gloucester to Paris. The last interview of Charles I. 
 with these children had made every feeling heart sympathize 
 with them. It must be owned that the worst action Queen 
 Henrietta ever committed was the persecution she raised 
 against her son Henry, Duke of Gloucester, to make him change 
 his religion. Not out of fanatic bigotry, which though trouble- 
 some may possibly be sincere, but from the sordid motive of 
 providing for him as a Roman Catholic ecclesiastic. The boy, 
 at the tender age of eight years, had earnestly promised his 
 sire, as he sat on his knee, never to forsake the faith of the 
 Church of England, or to supersede his elder brothers, and 
 now he kept his word as sturdily as if he had been thirty.* 
 Charles II. stopped his mother's tampering with the faith of his 
 younger brother, ordering, as their sovereign, that Gloucester 
 should be sent to his loving sister Mary, Princess of Orange, 
 then at Breda. 
 
 In another attempt to mend adverse fortune Henrietta was 
 signally disappointed ; she tried in vain to induce her rich and 
 beautiful niece. Mademoiselle de Montpensier, the second lady 
 in France, to accept the hand of her eldest son, the expatriated 
 Charles II. To her subsequent regret, the princess scorned 
 the young king for his poverty. 
 
 Time and death at last did their work, and the royal family 
 was restored, not by foreign force, but by acclamation. En- 
 gland having for twenty years experienced anarchy, was glad 
 to welcome her king home again, all people know, with his ■ 
 two brothers York and Gloucester, at Dover, on his birthday. 
 May, 29, 1660. 
 
 The queen-mother, as Henrietta Avas now called, did not 
 witness the delirious joy of the Restoration, She was busy 
 with the marriage-treaty of her beautiful darling, the Princess 
 
 * For the details of this event, see " Lives of the Queens of England," vol. v. 
 
464 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1661. 
 
 Henrietta, with her youngest nephew, Pliilippe, Duke d'Or- 
 leans, brother of Louis XIV. About five months after she 
 came with the princess to obtain her dowry from the now 
 loving ParUament of England, likewise her own arrears, which 
 had been scornfully refused by the republic, with the remark 
 " that she had not been crowned, therefore they ignored her 
 as queen." Surely she deserved no great pity on that point, 
 considering her perverse conduct to her husband concerning 
 it. 
 
 Of her three sons who had returned to England, Henrietta 
 was destined to meet but two. The small-pox, so fatal in that 
 country, deprived her of young Gloucester, whom she had 
 never met since endeavoring to force him into the Roman 
 Catholic faith. The marriage that the Duke of York had 
 avowed with Anne Hyde, Clarendon's daughter, not only en- 
 raged but grieved her more than the early death of poor Glou- 
 cester. She wrote to her daughter, the Princess of Orange, 
 then visiting Charles H. in England, that she came to break 
 the disgraceful marriage of James ; but before Christmas was 
 turned Henrietta had mourned over the death-bed of her be- 
 loved eldest daughter, who had been the greatest benefactress 
 to her and her exiled family when in Holland. Moreover 
 Queen Henrietta found that neither her own dower or her 
 young princess's marriage-poition Avould be very quick in 
 coming to hand, without the assistance of Clarendon ; so she 
 did exactly contrary to her avowed intentions, and acknowl- 
 edged Anne Hyde as her second son's wife, which she certainly 
 was, by every law of God and man. On New Year's Day, 
 1661, the Duke of York brought his wife in state to Whitehall. 
 As the queen passed to dine in public, the Duchess of York 
 knelt to her ; the queen raised her, kissed her, and placed her 
 at table. The Earl of Clarendon and the queen came to an un- 
 derstanding on business that same evening. There was the 
 utmost difficulty regarding the lands she held as queen-dow- 
 ager ; but the parliament gave her 30,000/. compensation and a 
 large annuity. But as the English law did not allow queen- 
 dowagers to be absentees, her establishment was settled at 
 Somerset House, which she altered with great taste. As Lon- 
 don was infected with the small-pox, the queen was desirous 
 of withdrawing her lovely Henrietta from its dangers before 
 her beauty was injured. 
 
 Chai-les H. attended his mother to Portsmouth, where she 
 embai'ked with her young princess, who was seized with erup- 
 tive illness next day, supposed to be the small-pox. The cap- 
 tain run the ship aground ; and all had to disembark at 
 
1661-1669.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 465 
 
 Portsmouth, wlieve the princess remained till convalescent. 
 At last they arrived safely at Havre, February 26, 1661, and 
 were escorted in great triumph by the French nobility to 
 Paris, where the marriage of the young princess with Phil- 
 ippe, Duke of Orleans, took place, at the chapel of the Palais 
 Royal. The marriage was not happy; the bridegroom was 
 odd-tempered and totally uneducated. 
 
 When Somerset House was repaired and beautified, the 
 queen came to take up her residence in England, where she 
 first was introduced to the bride of Charles II., Catharine of 
 Braganza. And in England she lived three years, her health 
 gradually giving way before the climate — always inimical to 
 her. She saw her second son and his duchess, Anne Hyde, 
 with promising children about them. The Lady Mary, after- 
 waid queen-regnant, was born while Henrietta was in En- 
 gland. 
 
 Charles II. and his queen accompanied the invalid queen- 
 mother to the I^ore, when she returned to France, where she 
 went direct to her favorite chateau of Colonibe, on the river 
 Seine, between Paris and St. Germain-en-Laye. Its park and 
 groups of trees are still visible from the railway. The cha- 
 teau was destroyed at the revolution of France. Henrietta 
 lived a sweet, easy life in her pleasant chateau, troubled only 
 by the fluctuations of the asthmatic cough she had never lost 
 since her Yorkshire campaign. Her charity was very exten- 
 sive ; in England she had distributed from her chapel at 
 Somerset House thousands of pounds among the poor suifer- 
 ing from the plague, in the year 1666. 
 
 She paid visits to the baths of Bourbon, for increasing ill- 
 ness, during the three next years. Toward the close of 1669, 
 she had been agitated with impending war between France 
 and England, which she strove to avert. M. Valot, the first 
 pliysician to Louis XIV., held a consultation at Colombe with 
 her own medical man. The new remedy of opium was then 
 the fashionable medicine. It was vain her own physician de- 
 clared it was most inimical to Queen Henrietta. M. Valot left 
 the prescription, positively asserting that it would allay her 
 tearing cough. On the evening of August 30, she was better 
 than usual, sat up later, and chatted pleasantly with her ladies. 
 That night she was sleeping sweetly, when the lady in wait- 
 ing awoke her, to administer the sleeping-draught. Could 
 any thing be more absurd than to wake a patient to adminis- 
 ter a sleeping-potion *? At dawn, the lady came with another 
 draught, but the first had been fatal ; Henrietta was cold and 
 speecliless, and never woke af;ain, though she respired for 
 
 U* 
 
466 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1669. 
 
 some time. A messenger hurried to St. Germains, and her 
 son-in-law, the Duke of Orleans, came directly ; but Henrietta 
 had ceased to breathe, August 31, 1669. . Her little grand- 
 daughter, afterward our queen-regnant, Anne, was staying at 
 Colombe for her health at that time. 
 
 Siege Pieces. Scarborough ShilliDg. Time of Charles L 
 
 Queen Henrietta was embalmed, and buried at St. Denis, in 
 the royal vault of the Kings of France, her ancestors. Her 
 daughter, the Duchess of Orleans, was too ill and utterly cast 
 down with grief to follow her mother to the grave ; but her 
 niece, Mademoiselle Montpensier, attended as chief mourner. 
 Forty days after, a much grander service was performed to 
 her memory, by the nuns of the Visitation, at Chaillot, whose 
 convent she had founded. There her daughter and her hus- 
 band, the Duke and Duchess of Orleans, attended, in the deep- 
 est grief and mourning; and there Bossuet preached that 
 beautiful biographical oration, which lias deservedly taken 
 place among the classics of France. Our limits in this edition 
 
1669.] HENRIETTA MARIA. 467 
 
 will not permit * more than one passage, which is illustrative 
 of the true character of the queen, though not of that set forth 
 in general English history. "Batten, the captain who can- 
 nonaded her at Burlington, was taken prisoner afterward, and 
 condemned to death, without the queen's knowledge ; but, 
 seeing him led to execution past her window, full of horror 
 at his impending fate, the queen cried out she had pardoned 
 him long ago, and insisted on his liberation. Batten was not 
 ungrateful, for he helped in the revolt of part of the English 
 fleet to the young king." Pepys, in his diary, often names 
 him as in favor with the Duke of York, when lord admiral, 
 after the Restoration. 
 
 Henrietta Maria had been the mother of four sons and four 
 daughters ; she outlived all her children but Charles II., who 
 left no legitimate ofispring; James, Duke of York, afterward 
 the unfortunate James II.; and Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, 
 who survived her some months. 
 
 *See "Lives of the Queens of England," vol. v. 
 
468 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1G38, 
 
 Catharine of Braganza. From the original painting in the Pepysian Libraiy. 
 
 CATHAEINE OF BRAGANZA. 
 
 Portugal had lost its royal rank among nations sixty 
 years before the birth of Catharine of Braganza. The cruel 
 sovereign of Spain, Philip II., on the principle that might 
 makes right, annexed it to his long list of dominions, 
 when it was weakened by the disastrous crusade and death 
 of King Sebastian, and the imbecile reign of Henry, the cardi- 
 nal king. But the right line of the monarchy remained in 
 Don Juan, Duke of Braganza. He married Donna Luiza, 
 daughter of the first grandee of Spain, the Duke of Medina 
 Sidonia. Two sons had been born of this marriage previous 
 
16C1.] CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 46a 
 
 to the birth of Catharine, wliich occurred Nov. 25, 1638, at 
 Villa Vicosa, her father's beautiful palace, in Portugal. Cath- 
 arine was born in an auspicious hour, when the unanimous 
 confederation took place, of Portuguese patriots to thi-ow oif 
 the yoke of Spain, and place her father on the throne of his 
 ancestors. Don Juan demurred, unwilling to plunge his 
 country into the carnage of the struggle ; but the confederation 
 gained strength daily. Two years afterward. Donna Luiza, 
 who was the very spirit of enterprise, on the anniversary of 
 her babe's birth, put little Catliarine into her husband's arms, 
 made her kiss him, and ask him to make her a king's daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 That niglit all Portugal openly proclaimed Don Juan of 
 Braganza king. Charles I., though himself overcome with 
 misfortunes, recognized the struggling realm of Portug.al — it 
 was one of his last regal acts. When little Donna Catharine 
 was seven years old, her father proposed a marriaaje between 
 her and the heir of England, who was of the age of fourteen ; 
 but Charles I., who had felt the calamities brought on him by 
 marrying a Roman Catholic princess, did not assent, although 
 in poverty, and the dower of the Portuguese princess was 
 considerable. The brave father of Catharine died in middle 
 life, leaving his heroic consort to complete the liberation of 
 his country. This the queen effected nearly at the time of 
 the restoration of the royal family of Stuart, when marriage 
 negotiations between Charles 11. and Catharine were first 
 mentioned by a Jew factor to General Monk. 
 
 The result of inquiries into the qualities and education of 
 Catharine were, "that her disposition was sweet, that she had 
 been brought up conventually in such retirement, that she 
 had not, at the age of twenty-two — mature for Portugal — 
 been five times out of her mother's palace in her life." 
 
 It has' been charged on the Earl of Clarendon that he made 
 this alliance because, at the advanced age of Catharine, she 
 was not likely to bring Charles II. heirs wherewith to dispos- 
 sess the offspring of James, Duke of York, and Anne Hyde 
 his daughter. Clarendon's endeavor that his master might 
 w^ed a Protestant was sincere ; he had seen and felt dreadful 
 troubles, owing to the hatred the English people boi'e to Ro- 
 man Catholic queens. Besides, it is an absurdity to call a 
 woman old at twenty-^o in any country. 
 
 During the eighteen months in which the negotiations were 
 carried on, the court of Charles II. became so very riotous, and 
 his attentions to an evil woman, notorious under the names of 
 Mrs. Palmer and Lady Castlemaine, so shameless, that the 
 
4^0 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [16G1. 
 
 English people thought it better to have a popish queen than 
 no queen. Then the contracting parties for King Charles, 
 Mayuard and Richard Russell, an English Roman Catholic 
 who had a Portuguese bishopric and was preceptor to the 
 princess, came to an agreement about dower and jointure in 
 the spring of 1661. The Earl of Sandwich was sent with a 
 fine English fleet to fetch home the bride. This fleet was the 
 happy cause of driving away the last assault of the Spanish 
 navy on Lisbon, and at the same time protecting the rich Bra- 
 zilian home-bound fleet, then nearing the mouth of the Tagus. 
 Charles II. wrote his bride a love-letter full of promises of ex- 
 clusive aflection, which he never dreamed of fulfilling * 
 
 Her dowry was, and still is, of immense advantage to our 
 country. The island of Bombay was given to England for- 
 ever, with its forts, towns, bay, and castles, and leave for the 
 English to trade with Brazil and the East Indies ; such per- 
 mission had never before been accorded to any other nation. 
 Bombay proved the origin of England's power in the East 
 Indies ; to these were added 500,000 pistoles and Tangier, on 
 the coast of Africa. This last possession proved worthless. 
 Catharine, in return, was given the great dower of 30,000/. 
 per annum for life ; and, in case of widowhood, with permis- 
 sion to live in her own country, and receive it there. No 
 other dowager-queen of England had been thus favored. 
 
 No dispensation from the Pope had been obtained by Por- 
 tugal for the marriage of Catharine with a Protestant king. 
 For Spain had violently opposed the marriage; and Queen 
 Luiza feared delay from the ill ofiices of their powerful enemy. 
 The marriage ceremony in both religions was to take place in 
 England. 
 
 The royal bride took her departure from Lisbon April 23, 
 1661. Alphonso, King of Portugal, and the infant Don Pe- 
 dro, her brothers, and the grandees and households followed 
 her procession down the stairs of the Lisbon Palace to the hall 
 of the Germans, near the court of the chapel, where Queen 
 Luiza waited to bid farewell to her daughter, and give her 
 her last solemn benediction. Neither the queen nor the bride 
 shed a tear at parting, though all around wept passionately. 
 Catharine, now called Queen of England, was escorted through 
 triumphal arches to the port by her brothers, and brought to 
 the English admiral's flag-ship, the ^oyal Charles, in King 
 Alphonso's state brigantine. Tlie Royal Charles's cabin was 
 
 * For this letter, and many otlier cmions traits and facts from Portn- 
 puese documents, see "Lives of the Queens of England," in 8 vols., vol. 
 V. By Agnes Strickland. 
 
1662.] CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 471 
 
 richly hung with white and scarlet for the bride-queen, and 
 the state cabin fitted up as a throne-room. Before the queen 
 sailed, her brother, King Alphonso, knowing her love of music, 
 entertained her with a farewell serenade in his brigantine, 
 which rowed round the Royal Charles with serenader's music 
 all night. 
 
 The passage was long and stormy. Off the Isle of Wight 
 the fleet encountered the Duke of York, who came with five 
 frigates to meet and do honor to his royal brother's bride. 
 Catharine received him, when he came on board, with sisterly 
 kindness, and seemed grateful for his wish to become acquaint- 
 ed with her before the formal court pi'esentation. As the 
 fleet proceeded up the Channel, the duke visited her every 
 day; and she had the good sense always to receive him in 
 English costume, until he asked to see her in her national 
 garb. He said that it became her well ; but one of her por- 
 traits shows how hideous was the manner of dressing her 
 hair, curled and frizzed like a judge's wig, with an ugly foretop 
 parted from one side of her head to the other. The noble 
 Portuguese ladies who accompanied her, in vain tried to per- 
 suade her thus to dress, hoping the Enghsh ladies would adopt 
 the fashion. Catharine landed, however, dressed like other 
 English ladies. Her six ladies persisted in their foretops and 
 frizzes, and were called "six frights" for their pains by Charles 
 II.'s saucy courtiers. 
 
 The Duke of York's frigate followed the Royal Charles into 
 the harbor, and when the queen disembarked. May 13, her 
 brother-in-law was ready to hand her to her gayly-decorated 
 barge ; she then proceeded in the royal coach to the king's 
 house in Portsmouth, where her first lady of the bed-chamber, 
 the Countess of Suffolk, received her. King Charles remained 
 to the last moment in London, with her yet unknown rival, 
 Lady Castlemaine. 
 
 The queen wrote to King Charles announcing her arrival, 
 but it was five days before he met her. Admiral Lord Sand- 
 wich meantime spoke and wrote with th6 utmost approval of 
 the queen's modest and pious demeanor, and tried to prepos- 
 sess every one in her favor; and though a great admirer of 
 female beauty, considered her a pleasing, if not a pretty wom- 
 an. Her portraits, both in England and France, do her more 
 justice than her contemporary English historians. Lord 
 Dartmouth aflirms that the king, Avhen he saw her, asked, " if 
 they sent him a bat instead of a Avoraan." King Charles, 
 however, in his own autograph, wrote no such uncivil remark, 
 but said, "her eyes were excellent good, her expression agree- 
 
472 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [16G2. 
 
 able, and his skill in physiognomy told him she was as good a 
 woman as ever was born, with wit enough, and an agreeable 
 voice;" adding, "that he thought himself very happy, and 
 that they two would be happy together." No doubt that 
 would have been the case had he been half as good as his 
 wife. 
 
 Catharine was entreated to dispense with the Roman 
 Catholic marriage service. It was, indeed, penal to perform 
 it in England. She insisted upon it, and Henrietta's almoner 
 married her to Charles II. in her own bed-chamber; the wit- 
 nesses were the Portuguese ambassador, two ladies, and three 
 Portuguese nobles. King Charles always spoke to his queen 
 in Spanish, in which majestic language he excelled ; it was the 
 queen's mother's tongue, and therefore familiar to her. 
 
 After dinner the king took Catharine by the hand and led 
 her into the hall of his Portsmouth Palace, where preparations 
 were made for the Church of England celebration of the mar- 
 riage ceremony. At the dais appeared the Portuguese am- 
 bassador, with the Bishop of London, and all the royal house- 
 hold ; the marriage service of the Common Prayer was per- 
 formed ; to which the queen signified her assent in the pres- 
 ence of as many people as could crowd into the lower part 
 of the hall, before whom the Bishop of London pronounced 
 Catharine and Charles II. man and wife in the words of our 
 liturgy. Then the Countess of Suifolk followed the English 
 custom of detaching from the queen's dress all her knots of 
 blue ribbon, and distributing them to the witnesses as wed- 
 ding-favors. The dress was rose-colored, the ribbons blue, 
 which gaudy mixture was well modified by the abstraction of 
 the blue ribbons ; the crowd fought and scrambled for the 
 smallest fragment thereof. 
 
 The marriage of Charles IT. and Catharine of Braganza was 
 duly entered in the register-book of the parish church of St. 
 Thomas-a-Becket, Portsmouth, on vellum, in letters of gold. 
 
 The king and queen left Portsmouth May 27, and passing 
 one. day at Windsot Castle, proceeded to Hampton Court, 
 where the anniversary of Charles II.'s birth and restoration 
 were, on the 29th, brilliantly celebrated, together with his 
 marriage festivities. 
 
 The "name of Mrs. Palmer, Charles II.'s unworthy favorite, 
 had transpired at Lisbon before Catharine's departure. The 
 Queen of Portugal had wisely advised her daughter never to 
 utter this person's name, or suffer any one to mention it to 
 her. Consequently, Queen Catharine had remained in happy 
 ignorance of the identity of her rival, until the king, accord- 
 
1662.] CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 473 
 
 ing to the usual etiquette, presented her with the list of the 
 ladies of her bed-chamber aud household for her approval. 
 At the head of them, as first lady, figured the formidable 
 name of Mrs. Palmer. The queen immediately crossed it out, 
 leaving her ti-eacherous consort iu some perplexity as to what 
 was to be the next step, to fulfill his unrighteous intentions of 
 forcing this bad woman into the society of his pure and good 
 wife. 
 
 Nearly six weeks had passed away of married serenity for 
 Queen Catharine, when clouds darkened thus over. At the 
 usual presentation of the ladies of her household, one most 
 majestic in figure and beautiful in face was announced to her 
 majesty for the usual homage as Lady Castlemaine. The title 
 was new and unfamiliar to the queen's ear, w^ho received the 
 lady with her usual gi'aciousness, when the Countess de Pe- 
 nal va, her principal Portuguese lady, leaned from behind the 
 royal chair to the queen, and whispei-ed,that the Lady Castle- 
 maine was one and the same with the much dreaded " Mrs. 
 Palmer." Tlie queen's color changed ; the struggle to subdue 
 her feelings was nearly fatal, for the blood gushed from her 
 nostrils and she was carried to her apartment in a fit. Then 
 ensued a long contention between the king and his bride. To 
 the Lord Chancellor Clarendon was assigned the ungracious 
 task of breaking the royal bride's spirit of just indignation at 
 the idea of the intrusion of this vile woman into her house- 
 hold. However, it was accomplished : and the unfortunate 
 queen remained for the future, perforce, passive to this aud 
 many other insults of the same species. 
 
 Neglected as she was by her royal husband, Queen Catha- 
 rine was not without her share of homage as a woman. Wal- 
 ler, the most eloquent of all the court poets, pays a well-turned 
 compliment to the beauty of her eyes, in a graceful birth- 
 day ode, which was composed in her honor and sung on her 
 birthday, the day her majesty completed her 25th year. 
 
 Waller again took occasion to eulogize the beautiful eyes 
 of this queen in the verse which he M'rote on a card, which 
 she tore in a little fit of impatience, at the fashionable game 
 of ombre : 
 
 "The cards you tear in value rise, 
 So do the wounded by your eyes; 
 Who to celestial things aspire, 
 Ave, by that passion, raised the higher." 
 
 Tt was not often that Catharine permitted herself to give 
 way to petulance, even on signal provocation. However, she 
 felt her wrongs no less keenly than when she vented her in- 
 
474 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1662. 
 
 dignant feelings in angry words and floods of tears, but she 
 had gained the power of restraining her inward pangs from be- 
 coming visible to those who made sport of her agony. When 
 Lady Castlemaine, on entering the bed-chamber one day 
 while her majesty was dressing, had the presumption to ask 
 her, " How she could have the patience to sit so long a-dress- 
 ing?" — "Madam," replied the queen with great dignity, "I 
 have so much reason to use patience, that I can well bear 
 such a trifle." 
 
 The last day of the year 1602 concluded with a grand ball 
 at Whitehall. At this ball Lady Castlemaine appeared in richer 
 jewels than those of the queen and the Duchess of York put 
 together. It was whispered that she had induced the king 
 to bestow on her all the Christmas presents, which the peers 
 had given him ; the. reason, perhaps, why such oflerings were 
 discontinued. 
 
 The arrival of the king's mother, Queen Henrietta, pro- 
 duced some altei'ation in Queen Catharine's unhappy state of 
 mind. Henrietta treated her daughter-in-law with the ut- 
 most respect. She ostensibly came to offer her congratula- 
 tions on her sou's marriage, and become personally acquainted 
 with his bride. Catharine Avent privately to receive her 
 mother-in-law, at i,hat queen's beautiful little palace at Green- 
 wich. The king and tlie Duke of York were the interpreters 
 between the two queens, for Henrietta could not speak Span- 
 ish, far less Portuguese, and Catharine could not converse in 
 French. Queen Catharine liad not hitherto made any state 
 entry into London. August 23 was the day appointed for 
 her public progress from Hampton Court by water to White- 
 hall. At Kew the king and queen changed the usual state 
 barge for a small yacht, and again, before their arrival at 
 Whitehall, they entered a magnificent open vessel, with a 
 stately canopy of cloth of gold, made in the fashion of a cupo- 
 la, with high Corinthian pillars, wreathed with flowers, fes- 
 toons, and garlands, that their people might the better behold 
 them. This vessel was of antique form. Thus the royal pair 
 aiTived, the shores lined with spectators, and as for the river, 
 it was completely hidden by thousands of boats, the royal 
 vessel the centre of the whole. 
 
 The queen's landing took ])lace under the discharge of 
 cannon, at the pier called Whitehall Bridge. The queen- 
 mother was ready to receive and welcome her daughter-in- 
 law, at whose right hand she was placed, the Duchess of 
 York at tlie left of Queen Catharine's canopy. When the 
 queen-mother gave a festival at Somerset House, Pepys, who 
 
1666.] CATHARINE OF BEAGANZA. 475 
 
 saw Queen Catharine in proximity with the most lovely 
 women of that age, has left this favorable opinion of her mod- 
 est and womanly demeanor : " Although she be not so 
 charming, yet she hath a good modest innocent look, which 
 is pleasing." Poor Catharine, then only three months mar- 
 ried, was already broken in to the yoke she was hereafter to 
 endure for life. That night she returned to Whitehall, hav- 
 ing to endure the company, in her coach, of Lady Castlemaine 
 and young Crofts (afterward Duke of Monmouth, the king's 
 eldest illegitimate son), occupying the opposite seat to the 
 king and herself, proving that the king had forced his inno- 
 cent and virtuous wife to accept this evil woman as her com- 
 panion and first lady of the bed-chamber. 
 
 Considerable aid was received by Queen Catharine's be- 
 loved country from England, during the succeeding four 
 years ; for which reason the Portuguese Queen of England 
 settled down into passive endurance of her husband's infideli- 
 ty ; yet she did not, internally, feel neglect less acutely, and 
 the pain of mind she suffered told on her constitution. Three 
 times she was disappointed in her hopes of maternity. The 
 last was accompanied with dangerous symptoms, which grad- 
 ually merged into low typhus fever, attended with constant 
 delirium. Charles II., who was profligate, but not malicious, 
 showed some feeling when he saw his unoffending consort on 
 the verge of the grave; his unexj^ected kindness conduced to 
 her recovery. 
 
 All his court were speculating, while the queen lay between 
 life and death, on her probable successor. His insolent favor- 
 ite. Lady Castlemaine, had declined in his favor. A beauti- 
 ful impoverished kinswoman of his, Frances Stuart of Blantyre, 
 who was one of the queen's maids of honor, had previously 
 to the illness of her royal mistress occupied all his attention. 
 As she was of the legitimate line of Stuart, expectation ran 
 high as to whether she would be raised to the throne on the 
 queen's decease. Frances Stuart had previously very impru- 
 dently coquetted with Charles II., and extended her conquests 
 far and wide ; yet she was not a lost vile woman, although 
 her character had suffered from thus indulging her vanity. 
 The queen had always treated her with kindness, and even 
 with respect. 
 
 For the recovery of her health, Catharine of Braganza re- 
 treated to Tunbridge Wells, the springs of which then first 
 came in fashion as a watering-place. Charles II. and his worst 
 companions broke loose over Kent and Sussex and the adja- 
 cent counties, playing all sorts of pranks and frolics. The 
 
476 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G73. 
 
 queen, unfortunately, had sent for the players to amuse her at 
 Tuubridge ; that led to the king's intimacy with Nell Gwynn, 
 who was the most audacious of the troupe. It will scarcely be 
 believed that Charles forced his queen to receive this aban- 
 doned woman among her ladies o? honor. Meantime, the fair 
 Stuart made a conquest of the Duke of Richmond, the near- 
 est prince of the blood of the name of Stuart to the royal fam- 
 ily. As all her aim in conquest was to make an honorable 
 wedlock, Frances Stuart threw herself at the feet of her royal 
 mistress, and entreated counsel and assistance. So well did 
 Catharine arrange for her, that she married Richmond before 
 the king knew aught of the attachment. The queen and her 
 allies contided in Charles's usual good temper; and their cal- 
 culation did not fail, for shortly Richmond was forgiven, and 
 his duchess received with the usual favor, insomuch that the 
 fair Frances thought it safest to wholly withdraw herself 
 from court life, and all its dangierous ways. Occasionally only 
 she came to pay her grateful homage to Queen Catharine, who 
 thus lost a rival and gained a friend. 
 
 A worse rival than the violent Castlemaine or the coarse 
 Nelly invaded the peace of the poor queen after the death of 
 the king's mother, in 1669, and, soon after, of his sister Henri- 
 etta. One of the attendants of that princess, a beautiful Bret- 
 on girl, of noble but impoverished lineage, was left unpro- 
 vided for. In a recent visit that Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, 
 had paid to meet her bi'others at Dover, it is supposed that 
 King Charles had noticed the beauty of this girl, when in 
 waiting. After the sudden death of his sister, as her maid 
 was utterly destitute, Charles oifered her a place about the 
 person of his queen. He seems to have deprived his wife of 
 the right of choosing her own maids — a great outrage to any 
 lady. Louise de Queroualle, as soon as she appeared at court, 
 was advanced from one infamy to another, until she became 
 the notorious Duchess of Portsmouth, as remarkable for her 
 intrigues in state as for her more scandalous vices. Then, for 
 the first time, Queen Catharine found deadly personal enmity 
 in England. Party cries were raised concerning the queen's 
 childless state and Roman Catholic faith ; divorce was talked 
 of, and the Portsmouth duchess thought she could rise on 
 Catharine of Braganza's repudiation, and become Queen of 
 England. 
 
 When, in the course of three years, the Duke of York lost 
 his wife, Anne Hyde, and married a Roman Catholic princess, 
 Marie Beatrice, of Modena, the popular alarm became excited 
 at the idea that he, a declared Roman Catholic, and next heir 
 
1680-1685.] CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 477 
 
 to the crown, would on his accession seek to restore a mode 
 of faith distasteful to the majority of the English people. The 
 king, who had no religion of any kind to dissemble, was the 
 only shield between his subjects and popery. A strong party 
 was formed, urgent for King Charles to act the part of Henry 
 VIII. Dr. Burnet wrote two treatises, one advocating polyg- 
 amy, the other divorce; and carried his recklessness so far 
 as to present them to Charles for perusal. Buckingham offer- 
 ed to kidnap Catharine to the American colonies, then called 
 the plantations, and so dispose of her that she never came in 
 the king's way again. " Poor lady," said the king, " it would 
 be too wicked to make her miserable for no fault of hers, be- 
 cause she has no living children." He was her only friend and 
 protector, imperfectly as he performed both duties. 
 
 As for Burnet, the king treated him and his " Cases of Con- 
 science," as he called his unseemly letters, with sovereign con- 
 tempt. " I am too wicked," he declared, " yet not so bad as 
 some about me would have me be." 
 
 Catharine felt, as the dark succeeding years unrolled, the 
 loss of Clarendon. He had never been kind to her ; yet the 
 murderous machinations of Buckingham and Shaftesbury, who 
 succeeded him in power, made the exiled prime minister re- 
 gretted by her. 
 
 After the marriage of the Lady Mary Stuart of York to 
 William, Prince of Orange, the suborned plotter, Titus Gates, 
 became the ostensible leader of the horrible faction which in- 
 vented the " popish plot," devised by Shaftesbury against the 
 queen and the Duke of York. In the course of its develop- 
 ment, many of their servants were put to death by means of 
 shameless perjury — so barefaced, that history looks back on 
 the delusion as an awful species of popular madness possessing 
 the English at the period between 1677 and 1680. The ob- 
 ject of one branch of the popish plot was to prove that the 
 murder of Sir Edmundbury Godfrey was committed in the 
 queen's palace of Somerset House, by her servants of her own 
 religion ; and that she was guilty of conspiring against Charles 
 II.'s life, which it is certain she loved far better than her own. 
 
 At the bar of the House of Commons, November 28, 1680, 
 the perjurer thus made his denunciation : " I, Titus Gates, ac- 
 cuse Catharine, Queen of England, of high treason." Charles 
 II. boldly interposed the shield of his prerogative in defense 
 of his wife, and treated these accusations with still greater 
 contempt than he had done the previous proposal of her un- 
 principled enemies to abduct her. What the queen felt con- 
 cerning them no one could tell at the time ; nevertheless, the 
 
478 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1685. 
 
 wliole tragedy made a profound impression upon her, since, 
 instead of glorying in any attempt against the estabUshed re- 
 ligion of England, she denied it with her last words as a crime 
 falsely im])uted to her — thus proving that she was less bigoted 
 in catholicity than people supposed. It would take many vol- 
 umes of writing to follow the iniquities of the popular mad- 
 ness about the popish plot ; suffice it to say, that the king, 
 whose easy tempei' was at last provoked by the murderous at- 
 tacks of Oates, Shaftesbury, and Bedloe on the harmless queen, 
 roused himself from his usual indolence, recalled his brother, 
 dissolved the House of Commons, and even banished that 
 national nuisance for a while, the Duchess of Portsmouth. 
 The queen was, however, ridded of this evil woman only for a 
 short time, until some degree of peace had been established 
 among the agitated people. Thenceforward the liberties of 
 England sunk for some years, the country being thoroughly 
 convinced, by the innocent blood that had been shed and the 
 shameless perjury used, that those who acted in the name of 
 liberty were im worthy to wield it. From 1681 to 1685 quiet 
 ensued, at least for the persecuted queen, occasionally interrupt- 
 ed by minor plots, in which the suborners of the great popish 
 plot vainly endeavored to regain their influence, and, in conse- 
 quence, some lost their lives. 
 
 The queen's chief trouble was now to watch the decay of 
 the once strong health of the king. Ill as she had been treat- 
 ed by him, he was tenderly beloved by her. The late dread- 
 ful times had told upon his constitution ; he was weary of life, 
 yet went on his old course unaltered. 
 
 For many years his queen had been made tlie object of all 
 sorts of libels and lampoons, although her enemies had noth- 
 ing more serious to bring against her excepting that she was 
 passionately fond of music and dancing, and danced no better 
 than a duck. But without any manifest abilities or cultivation 
 of mind, she changed evil customs, doing good to this country 
 by the' example of her personal temperance, introducing mild 
 beverages and light diets instead of the potations of wines and 
 strong beer which accompanied the constant meat devourings 
 of that drunken and voracious century. Great alteration in 
 the inner life and customs of English families happily ensued. 
 
 The court poet. Waller, bears witness to our assertion in 
 these lines : 
 
 " The best of queens and best of herbs we owe 
 To til at bold nation, which the way did show 
 To the fair region where the sun doth rise." 
 
 Every body knows that the Portuguese, under her ances- 
 
1685.] CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 479 
 
 tors — the bold sea-kings of south of Europe — discovered the 
 ocean-path to the East Indies and Cliina. The queen brought 
 tea with her to England — always used tea — and tea in the 
 course of a century became the national drink of the ladies of 
 England. The Italian Opera was likewise introduced by her. 
 The first of this class of musical drama was performed for the 
 amusement of her court at Somerset House, 1674, by the 
 queen's Italian musicians and paid servants, such representa- 
 tions takhig the place of the masques so frequently acted be- 
 fore royal personages — and far too frequently by them to their 
 great disparagement. 
 
 Charles II. was attacked with apoj^lexy at Whitehall, Feb- 
 ruary 1, 1685. His terrified household assembled round him 
 after he had been bled and restored to consciousness. The 
 (pieen hastened to him, and sat by his bed until she was 
 forced to be carried from his chamber by her paroxysms of 
 agonized weeping ; for she, as well as all around her, saw the 
 stroke was unto death. His brother, the Duke of York, bore 
 all command in the sick-room before the queen left her plac e 
 by her sick husband. She spoke to her sister-in-law, the duch- 
 ess, saying, " My sister, I beseech you tell the Duke of York, 
 who knows, the king's sentiments in regard to religion as well 
 as I do, to take advantage of some good moment." 
 
 The Archbishop of Canterbury, the holy Sancroft, and Ken, 
 the Bishop of Bath and Wells, were in attendance on their 
 <lying sovereign. He listened to their prayers ; but Avhen 
 tendered the Holy Sacrament, according to the rites of our 
 Church, by Ken, he only said he would think of it. Finally, 
 the Dnke of I'ork had the room cleared ; and Father Huddle- 
 ston, the priest who had saved his life at Boscobel, was intro- 
 duced in disguise, and administered the Roman Catholic sac- 
 rament to the king. He did it at the risk of his life, for the 
 act was penal by the law. But the aged man did not shrink 
 from the danger. The queen was assiduous in her attentions 
 to her dying lord. The Duchess of Portsmouth, feeling that 
 her power was over, and that she was wholly at the mercy of 
 the Dnke of York, dared not enter the room. Sometimes the 
 queen had to be taken from the bedside, Avhen her agonies of 
 grief disturbed the dying king. On one of these occasions she 
 sent to ask her husband's pardon for aught in which she might 
 have offended him in the course of their marriage. Charles 
 was surprised, as well he might be, and replied, " Poor lady ! 
 she beg my pardon? I beg hers with all my heart!" 
 
 When the court were again admitted, Bishop Ken once 
 more entreated the king to receive the sacrament. Charles 
 
480 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1685-1688. 
 
 rei:)lied, "I hope I have made my peace with God," alhiding 
 to the Romish sacrament which Father Huddleston had just 
 administered ; but Ken was not aware of that circumstance. 
 
 The king's actual agony of death continued forty-eight 
 hours. When his last moments drew near, the queen, who 
 had been bled, to quiet the convulsive anguish that threaten- 
 ed her life and reason, was again admitted. She threw her- 
 self on her knees by his bedside, and once more demanded 
 pardon for all her offenses. Charles again replied, " that she 
 had offended in nothing ; but that he himself had been guilty 
 of many offenses against her, for which he entreated her pai*- 
 don." The physicians would not permit her to witness the 
 king's last agony ; but another message was exchanged be- 
 tween the royal pair. Three witnesses, all present — Lord 
 Chesterfield, Barillon, the French ambassador, and the Duch- 
 ess of York — separately, by written testimony, confute the 
 falsehood of. Burnet, who says the king never mentioned 
 Queen Catharine. 
 
 Cliarles II. expired February 6, 1685. After the proclama- 
 tion of his brother as James II., the privy council waited, ac- 
 cording to the etiquette of condolence, on his royal widow. 
 James II. also paid her a brotherly visit. As her grief was 
 intense, the suffering such visits inflicted may be surmised. 
 Moreover, she had to receive all state condolences reclined on 
 a bed of mourning ; the light of day excluded, with tapers 
 burning ; the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling hung with 
 black. All as lugubrious as in the state-chamber wherein the 
 corpse of Charles II. was placed under his canopied hearse. 
 
 The king was buried by torch-liglit, in Westminster Abbey, 
 privately, by reason of the religion he had adopted in his last 
 moments. Much calumny was heaped on his successor on this 
 account ; but the rites of the Romish Church, proscribed and 
 penal as they were in England, could not be permitted in j^ub- 
 lic, or celebrated in open day. 
 
 Soon after the death of her husband Catharine of Braganza 
 requested leave to return to her native country. James II. 
 went to Chatham himself to look out one of his best new 
 ships, to take her to Portugal in safety and comfort. Some 
 litigation she had with Henry, Earl of Clarendon, who had 
 been her lord treasurer and chamberlain, respecting her sav- 
 ings, caused her delay until she seemed to settle quietly in 
 England. She was twice called upon, regarding different 
 matters, in the stormy times which preceded the revolution of 
 1688 — once to intercede for the Duke of Monmouth, when he 
 was condemned to be beheaded for rebellion. She had like- 
 
1G92-1705.] CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA, 481 
 
 wise to give evidence before the privy council regarding tha 
 birth of the unfortunate Prince of Wales, afterward called the 
 Pretender, on whom party malice threw tlie stigma of not be- 
 ing the son of his own mother. Catharine gave this evidence, 
 still extant — 
 
 " The king sent for me to the queen : I came as soon as I 
 could, and never left her until she was delivered of the Prince 
 of Wales." 
 
 Times became darker for Catharine after the revolution and 
 the exile of James II. and his queen, Marie Beatrice. Their 
 successors, Mary II. and William, Prince of Orange, certainly 
 did not treat her so well as they ought. William was the most 
 friendly of the two. But his queen's letters to him are full of 
 mischief-making details and cruel remarks * on her forlorn 
 aunt, left friendless and a widow among persons inimical to 
 her religion and all she held dear. The poor queen-dowager 
 again claimed her privilege by her marriage articles, of re- 
 turning to Portugal for the rest of her days. But William 
 and Mary, engaged in war with their uncle and father, could 
 not spare ships to take her or money to pay her arrears of 
 dower. 
 
 It was not till the spring of 1692 that Queen Catharine was 
 able to accomplish her desire. She had resided chiefly in 
 London seven years from her widowhood, and had been 
 queen in England, consort and dowager, thirty years all but 
 seven weeks. Catharine had amassed a considerable capital 
 from her savings while she lived in retirement during her 
 widowhood. She pensioned her Protestant lords and ladies 
 most munificently from her dower, and took several English 
 and Irish ladies of rank in her suite to Portugal, among others, 
 Lady Fingall and her daughters and Lady Tuke. She could 
 not obtain ships from William III. for the Portuguese voyage; 
 but embarking at Margate, March 30, 1692, was landed at 
 Dieppe, and traveled by land, incognita, through France, with 
 the permission of Louis XIV., who, moreover, sent relays of 
 horses and guards, and invited her to Versailles ; but she de- 
 clined all the parade and pleasure of that gay court. When 
 she passed through Spain, her national pride caused her to as- 
 sume the state of royalty. A splendid escort of Portuguese 
 nobility awaited her at Almeida, near the Spanish border; but 
 the queen did not leave Spain without severe illness, which 
 
 * See, for many curious passages on these facts, from Queen Mary's own 
 letters, Lives of Catharine of Braganza and Queen Mary II., vols. v. and 
 vii. "Lives of the Queens of England," in 8 vols. 
 
 V 
 
482 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1705. 
 
 tletained her fur several days before she could proceed on her 
 journey. 
 
 On her recovery, Cathai'ine proceeded to Lisbon, where she 
 arrived January 20, 1693; here she was received with the re- 
 spect due to a benefactress. She had certainly proved so to 
 her country while she was queen-consort of England. 
 
 Catharine found many changes on her return to her native 
 country. Queen Luiza, her mother, had been dead many 
 years. After the death of this illustrious lady, frightful strife 
 began between her two sons, Don Alphonso, the reigning king, 
 reckoned imbecile, and his brother Don Pedro. Civil war 
 shook Portugal, scarcely recovered from the twenty years' 
 struggle for existence. The deposition and death of Alphonso 
 at last settled the contention ; and his brotlier not only took 
 his kingdom, but caused no little scandal by likewise taking 
 his wife. These troubles had added to the private griefs of 
 Queen Catharine in England. Don Pedro met his sister, how- 
 ever, in peace : and with his queen, Donna Sophia, conducted 
 lier to the country palace he had fitted up for lier use, called 
 the Quinta dal Alcautarra. Like his unfortunate brother 
 King Alphonso, ill health, accompanied with mental aberration, 
 used to attack the King of Portugal. He had sons, but they 
 were children ; there was no one who could take the sceptre, 
 which often fell from the infirm grasp of Don Pedro, excepting 
 the royal Avidow of Charles II. Slighted and lampooned as 
 she had been in England, Catharine reigned as queen-regent 
 of Portugal with no little renown — not only Avith justice, but 
 with glory, winning battles when Spain attacked her counti-y, 
 and keeping up sedulously the trade and alliance of England ; 
 the fine income which she drew from this country greatly aid- 
 ing her reign and regency. She built a palace called Bem- 
 posta, where she fixed her residence, not far from the well- 
 known seat of Portuguese royalty, Belera. 
 
 It was at Bemposta that Queen Catharine was seized with 
 cholera or colic, December 31, 1705. She was in the sixty- 
 eighth year of her life, but that year had been singularly fortu- 
 nate for her reign as regent ; four cities had been won by her 
 from Philip V., the French candidate for the throne of Spain. 
 Catharine, as regent of Portugal, was at that time the ally of 
 her late husband's niece, Anne, Queen of Great Biitain. 
 
 The illness of Catharine was quick and fatal. She met 
 death with calnmess and piety. Almost her last words were 
 addressed to her English physician, whom she beckoned to 
 her, and assured him " that Titus Gates and his false witnesses 
 had accused her wrongfully of practices against the Church 
 
170G.] 
 
 CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 
 
 483 
 
 of England ; for she had never songlit more favoi- for her 
 Catholic faith than sVas secured to her in her marriage arti- 
 cles." 
 
 She expired at ten o'clock, two hours before tlie new year 
 of IVOG. The royal monastery of Beleni had been chosen by 
 her for her place of interment, whither she was carried with 
 gi"eat solemnity from Bemposta, where she died. Iler broth- 
 er, King Pedro, Avas too ill to assist at her funeral ; but his 
 eldest son, the Prince of Brazil, and the two infants Don Fran- 
 cesco and Don Antonio, attended when the bier was lifted at 
 Bemposta to l)e carried to the royal place of interment at 
 Belem. Catharine was greatly lamented in Portugal, where 
 her name is held in the highest veneration to the present day. 
 Iler virtues and the events of her life were celebrated by the 
 learned poet, Pedro de Azevedo Tojal, in an heroic poem of 
 twelve cantos entitled '■'' Carlos Heduzido Ingletera ilbistrada.^'* 
 Catharine survived her faithless consort Charles II. nearly 
 twenty-one years ; she was devoted to his memory in spite of 
 his faults. She was prayed for in the liturgy of the Church of 
 England, as queen-dowager, in the reigns of James II., Wil- 
 liam and Mary, and Queen Anne. 
 
 iMedal of Charles II. and Catluaiue. 
 
 After the revolution, during the reigns of Mary and Wil- 
 liam, and that of Anne until her death, Catharine of Braganza 
 was prayed for in the Church of England liturgy. 
 
484 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Mnry Beatrice of Modena. From u picture by Sir Peter Lcly. 
 
 MAKY BEATEICE OF MODENA, 
 
 QUEEN CONSORT OF JAMES II., KING OF GREAT BRITAIN 
 AND IRELAND. 
 
 Mary Beatrice Eleanora d'Este was the daughter of 
 Alphonso, Duke of Modena, and his du(;hess, Laura Marti- 
 nozzi, great-niece of Cardinal Mazarine. Mary Beatrice was 
 born October 5, 1658. She was two years older than her 
 brother; both were infant children when their father, Duke 
 Alphonso, died in the flower of his age, leaving them to the 
 guardianship of their widowed mother. So fearful was their 
 
](;67.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 485 
 
 mother of injuring their characters by pernicious indulgence, 
 that she erred by exercising too stern a rule of discipline in 
 their tender childhood. 
 
 The Duchess of Modena discouraged every symptom of 
 "weakness and pusillanimity in her children, considering such 
 propensities very derogatory to persons who are born in an 
 elevated station. Those who conduct the education of princes 
 can never place too much importance on rendering them ha- 
 bitually insensible to fear. Intrepidity and self-possession in 
 seasons of peril are always expected from royalty. The great- 
 est regal talents and the most exalted, virtue will not atone to 
 the multitude for want of physical courage in a king or queen. 
 When Mary Beatrice was a little child, she was frightened at 
 the chimney-sweepers who came to draw the cliimney of her 
 nursery : her mother made them come quite close to her, to 
 convince her there was no cause for alarm. The young duke 
 Avas compelled to study so hard, that it was represented to 
 the duchess-regent that his health was injured by such close 
 application, and that his delicate constitution required -more 
 recreation and relaxation. Her reply was that of a Roman 
 mother : " Better that I should have no son, than a son with- 
 out wit and merit." Their uncle, Prince Rinaldo d'Este, ask- 
 ed the two children whether they liked best to command or 
 to obey ? The young duke said boldly, " he should like best 
 to command ;" the princess replied, meekly, " that she liked 
 better to obey." Their uncle told them " it was well that each 
 preferred doing that which was most suitable to their respect- 
 ive vocations," alluding to the duke's position as a reigning 
 prince, and probably not anticipating for Mary Beatrice a 
 loftier destiny than wedding one of the nobles of his court. 
 Her own desire was to embrace a religious life. Her govern- 
 ess, to whom she was passionately attached, quitted her when 
 she was only nine years old, to enter a convent. Mary Bea- 
 trice bewailed lier loss with bitter tears, till she was sent to the 
 same convent to finish her education. She found herself 
 much happier under the guidance of the Carmelite sisters 
 than she had been in the ducal palace, where nothing less than 
 absolute perfection was expected by her mother in every 
 thing she said and did. 
 
 The mode of life pursued by Mary Beatrice in the convent, 
 the peculiar style of reading, and the enthusiastic interest that 
 was excited among the cloistered votaresses by dwelling on 
 the lives of female saints and royal virgins who consecrated 
 themselves in the morning flower of life to the service of God, 
 had the natural effect of imbuing her youthful mind with 
 
486 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G73. 
 
 mysticism and spiritual romance. There was an aunt of Mary 
 Beatrice, scarcely fifteen years older than lierself, in the same 
 convent, to whom she was very tenderly attached. This 
 princess, who was her father's youngest sister by a second 
 marriage, was preparing herself to take the veil, and Mary 
 Beatrice was desirous of professing herself at the same time. 
 Very rarely, however, does it happen that a princess is privi- 
 leged to choose her own path in life. The death of Anne 
 Hyde, Duchess of York, proved tlie leading cause of linking 
 the destiny of this young innocent recluse, who thought of 
 notliing but veils and rosaries, with that of the most ill-fated 
 l>rince of the luckless house of Stuart, James, Duke of York, 
 afterward James 11. His wife, Anne Hyde, on her death-bed 
 declared herself a Roman Catholic, and he soon after with- 
 drew himself from the communion of the Church of England ; 
 nor could any representations of the impolicy of liis conduct, 
 or his royal brother's entreaties, induce him to appear again 
 in the chapel-royal. 
 
 Af|,er his, brilliant victory over the Dutch the duke sent the 
 Earl of Peterborough to choose a second wife for him. The 
 earl's choice fell on Mary Beatrice, Princess of Modena, 
 though the English government had given him a list of six 
 princesses from whom he was to select a wife for the Duke of 
 York, and a future queen for England. Mary Beatrice at 
 that time wanted rather better than two months of complet- 
 ing her fifteenth year; she was tall and womanly in figure, 
 and very beautiful, but perfectly unconscious of her charms. 
 For her acquirements, she read and wrote Latin and French, 
 possessed some taste in painting, and was a proficient in mu- 
 sic, which she passionately loved ; but of those royal sciences, 
 history and geography, which ought to form tlie most impor- 
 tant part of the education of princes, she knew so little, that 
 when her mother announced to her that she was sought in 
 marriage by the Duke of York, she asked, with great simplici- 
 ty, " who the Duke of York was ?" Her mother told her 
 " he was the brother of the King of England, and heir-pre- 
 sumptive to that realm ;" but the princess was not a whit the 
 wiser for this information. " She had been so innocently 
 bred," observes James, in his journal, "that she did not know 
 of such a place as England, nor such a person as the Duke of 
 York." 
 
 When the Duchess of Modena explained the nature of the 
 brilliant matrimonial prospects that awaited her, not conceal- 
 ing the fact that the DtdvC of York was in his fortieth year, 
 Mary Beatrice burst into a passionate fit of weeping, ami im- 
 
1G73.J MAKY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 487 
 
 plored her aunt to deliver her from this royal suitor, by mar- 
 rying him herself, observing with some naivete, " that her 
 aunt's age, who was thirty years old, was more suitable to 
 that of a bridegroom of forty than her own, as she was only 
 in her fifteenth year." Mary Beatrice was assured, in reply, 
 " that the fancied objection of too great juvenility in a girl of 
 her age would be very soon obviated by time, while every 
 day would render a lady of thirty less agreeable to a prince 
 like the Duke of York." This reasoning, however cogent, 
 did not reconcile the youthful beauty to the idea of being con- 
 signed to a consort five-and-twenty years her senior. She 
 wept, and protested her determination to profess herself a 
 nun ; and continued to urge the propriety of bestowing her 
 aunt on the Duke of York instead of herself so perseveringly, 
 that at last she convinced some of the most influential persons 
 in the court of Modena that she was right. 
 
 Nevertheless, the day for the solemnization of the nuptial 
 contract was fixed on the 30th of September. Tiie noble 
 proxy having prepared his equipage and habit suitable for the 
 occasion, " he was fetched from his lodgings, at about eleven 
 o'clock on that morning, by the Duke of Modena in person, 
 accompanied by Prince Rinaldo and all the noblest cavaliers 
 of the court, and conducted to a chamber near the chapel, 
 where he reposed himself till so much of the service v\ as done 
 as seemed obnoxious to the religion he professed ;" for it is to 
 be noticed that James had not chosen a person of his own 
 faith, but a member of the Church of England, for his proxy, 
 AYhen the mass was over, the earl was led into the chapel, 
 where the bride expected him ; and there, not only without a 
 dispensation from the Pope, but in defiance of his interdict, 
 was Mary Beatrice Eleanora of Modena married by a poor 
 English priest to the Roman Catholic heir of England, who 
 Avas represented by a Protestant proxy. " The ceremony that 
 was then performed was designed," to i;se the words of the 
 Earl of Peterboi'ough, " for a perpetual marriage between 
 that admirable princess and the Duke of York, his master." 
 In the name of that prince, the noble proxy placed the nuptial 
 ring on the finger of the bride. This ring she always wore : it 
 Avas set with a fair diamond, which she was accustomed to 
 call the diamond of her espousals. It was one of the only 
 three jewels of which she did not finally strip herself for the 
 relief of the distressed British emigrants who followed the 
 adverse fortunes of her unfortunate lord ; but of this here- 
 after. 
 
 When the espousal rites were over, the noble proxy of that 
 
488 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1673 
 
 unknown consort to whom Mary Beatrice had, with raiich re- 
 luctance, plighted her nuptial faith, led her by the hand to 
 her apartment, Avhere, taking his leave, he went to repose him- 
 self in his own, till he was fetched to accompany the princess 
 at the dinner, " This succeeded about one o'clock, at a long 
 table, over the upper end whereof was a rich canopy, under 
 which, in representation of a. bride and bridegroom, the Earl 
 of Peterborough sat with the princess, who was now given 
 the title of her royal highness the Duchess of York ; the Duke 
 of Modena, her brother, the duchess-regent, and the other 
 princes of the house of Este, sitting on either side, according 
 to their degrees." The night was dedicated to dancing, for 
 there was a ball in honor of the nuptials, to Avhich all the 
 beauties of the court resorted — the saddest heart there being, 
 no doubt, that of the beautiful young bride, who had made 
 such obstinate and unexampled eiforts to defend her maiden 
 freedom. 
 
 The next day the Duke of Modena and the Earl of Peter- 
 borough rode in state to the cathedral, where a solemn service 
 and Te Deum Avere sung in honor of the accomplishment of 
 the marriage. Two or three days more were spent in tri- 
 umphant pageants and other testimonials of public rejoicing. 
 Tile manner in which llie bridegroom, to whom the virgin 
 hand of Mary Beatrice had thus been plighted, received the 
 announcement of the actual solemnization of his state nuptials, 
 is thus related by Lady Rachel Vaughan, in a lively, gossiping 
 letter to Lord William Russell : "The news came on Sunday 
 night to the Duke of York that he was married. He was 
 talking in the drawing-room when the French ambassador 
 brought the letter, and told the. news. The duke turned 
 .ibout to the circle, and said, ' Then I am a married man.' 
 They say she has more wit than any woman had before, as 
 much beauty, and more youth than is necessary. The Duke 
 of York sent his daughter, Lady Mary, word the same night, 
 ' that he had provided a playfellow for her.' " 
 
IGTu.] 
 
 MARY BEATRICE OF MOD EN A. 
 
 489 
 
 James II. From a picture by Sir G. Knellcr. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Five days after the solemnization of her espousals with the 
 Duke of York, Mary Beatrice completed her fifteenth year, 
 and it must be confessed that she conducted herself with no 
 more regard for her newly-acquired dignity, as a bride, than 
 if she had been ten years younger; for when the time was 
 appointed for her to commence her journey to England, she 
 cried and screamed two whole days and nights, and it was 
 only by force that she could be kept in bed. Nothing, in fact, 
 would pacify her till her mother consented to accompany her 
 to England, and the duke, her bi'other, part of the way. The 
 
 V * 
 
490 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1673. 
 
 Earl of Peterborough, who does not appear to have been at 
 all aware of these perversities on the part of the young Duch- 
 ess of York, and was by no means desirous of such additions 
 to his traveling party as would compel hiiu to depart entirely 
 from the programme arranged, both by the king and the duke, 
 for the homeward journey, tried vainly to dissuade the Duch- 
 ess of Modena from this resolution. "The time for the de- 
 parture being come," says he, " the duchess-mother would by 
 all means accompany her daughter into EngUind, and it could 
 not be diverted by any means, althougli it proved chargeable 
 to her, and of ill consequence to her concerns." Their journey 
 was through France. 
 
 The vessels that had been appointed by King Charles for 
 lier passage to England were waiting for her at Calais, where, 
 on tlie 21st of November, she embarked in the Katharine 
 yacht with her mother, her uncle, and all who had attended 
 her from Italy. Mary Beatrice crossed the Channel with a 
 prosperous breeze, and toward evening arrived at Dover. 
 The Duke of York, with becoming gallantry, was on the sands 
 to give his new consort a personal welcome to England, and 
 when she came to shore, he received her in his arms. The 
 beauty, the timidity, and the innocence of the royal bride 
 rendered this meeting, doubtless, a spectacle of exciting inter- 
 est to the honest seafaring population of Dover, the manly 
 squires of Kent, and the gentle ladies who thronged the strand 
 that day to obtain a sight of their future queen and the cere- 
 monial of her landing. James was charmed, as well he might 
 be, with the surpassing grace and loveliness of the consort his 
 friend the Earl of Peterborough had chosen for him. " On 
 her landing," says the earl, " she took possession of his heart 
 as well as his arms." 
 
 " Mary Beatrice, in after-years, acknowledged that she did 
 not like her lord at first." What girl of fifteen ever did like 
 a spouse five-and-twenty years her senior?. Princesses are 
 rarely so fortunate as to be allowed the privilege of a negative 
 in matters of the kind ; but the fair d'Este had not submitted 
 to the hard fate of female royalty without a struggle, and now, 
 it should seem, she had not suflicient self-control to conceal her 
 feelings under deceitful smiles. She is even said to have be- 
 trayed a childish aversion to the duke at their first interview. 
 Some men would have hated her, and rendered the union foi'- 
 ever miserable by a manifestation of evil temper on the occa- 
 sion. The sailor-pi'ince knew better : well qualified as he w'as 
 to play the wooer successfully to ladies pf all ages, he wisely 
 took no notice of discouraging symptoms in so young a crea- 
 
1673] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 49I 
 
 tuve ; but professing himself dazzled Avitli the beauty of her 
 eyes, he led her with courtly attention to the a])artuients that 
 liad been prepared for her in Dover Castle, the marine palace 
 of the sovereigns of England, and left her with her mother, to 
 take a little repose after the discomposure of her voyage. 
 Brief time had she for rest, and none for reflection ; the fa- 
 tigue and excitement of a state toilet awaited her in prepa- 
 ration for another agitating scene — the solemn confirmation 
 of her espousals with the duke by the Bishop of Oxford, who 
 had attended his royal highness from London for that purpose. 
 
 James honored tlie ancient customs of the land over which 
 he expected to rule, by admitting a portion of the honest, true- 
 liearted classes on whom the strength of a monarch depends, 
 to witness the solemnization of his marriage with the princess 
 Avhom he had taken to wife, in the hope of her becoming the 
 mother of a line of kings. It was sound policy in him not to 
 make that ceremonial an exclusive show for tlie courtiers who 
 had attended him from London, and the foreigners who, not- 
 withstanding his prudent caution to the Earl of Peterborough, 
 had accompanied his Italian consort to England. He knew 
 the national jealousy, the national pride of his countrymen, 
 and that their aflections are easily won, but more easily lost, 
 by those who occupy high places ; that they are terrible in 
 their anger, but just in their feelings ; their crimes being always 
 imputable to the arts of those by whom their feelings are per- 
 veitod to the purposes of faction or bigotry. 
 
 The ring with which James wedded Mary Beatrice of Mod- 
 ena was a small ruby, set in gold. She showed it to the nuns 
 of Chaillot in the days of her sorrowful widow^hood — days of 
 exile and poverty — and said, " It was impossible for her to 
 part Avith it, for it was her marriage-ring, which was given 
 her when she arrived in England by her royal husband, then 
 Duke of York ; and therefore she valued it more than the 
 diamond which, according to the custom of her country, she 
 received on the day of her espousals at Modena." She evi- 
 dently regarded it as the pledge of a more sacred contract, 
 though solemnized with the rites of the Reformed Church. 
 
 The merry monarch, attended by the principal lords and 
 ladies of the court, went down the river in state in the royal 
 barges on the 26th of November, to meet and compliment 
 the newly-wedded pair. Their royal highnesses, having em- 
 barked at Gravesend that morning, with the Duchess of 
 Modena and their noble attendants, came up with the early 
 tide. When the two courts met on the broad waters of the 
 Thames, the bridal party came on board the royal yacht. 
 
492 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1074-1075. 
 
 His majesty received and welcomed his new sister-in-law with 
 every demonstration of aftection, and they returned togeth- 
 er. 
 
 The first year of her wedded life was spent by Mary Bea- 
 trice in a gay succession of fetes and entertainments. While 
 the court was at Windsor, in August, 1674, the Duke of York 
 and his rival, Monmouth, amused their majesties, her royal 
 highness, and the ladies with a representation of the siege of 
 Maestricht, a model of that city, with all its fortifications, hav- 
 ing been erected in one of the meadows at the foot of the long 
 terrace. James and Monmouth, at the head of a little army 
 of courtiers, conducted the attack, to show their skill in tac- 
 tics. On Saturday night, the 21st, they made their approaches, 
 opened trenches, and imitated the whole business of a siege. 
 The city was defended with great spirit, prisoners were taken, 
 mines sprung, cannonading took place, grenades were thrown, 
 and the warlike pantomime lasted till three o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, affording a splendid and animating spectacle, which might 
 be seen and heard to a considerable distance. It was the last 
 pageant of a chivalric chai-acter performed in the presence of 
 royalty, or in which a British prince took a leading part. 
 
 Mary Beatrice's first child proved a daughter. The duchess 
 took every thing quietly, happy in a mother's first sweet cares; 
 and, loving her husband with the most passionate aifection, 
 she lived on terms of perfect amity with his daughters. Nei- 
 ther of these princesses ever accused her of the slightest in- 
 stance of unkindness to them; no, not even in justification of 
 their subsequent ill-treatment of her. Her conduct as a step- 
 mother must, therefore, have been irreproachable. She was 
 at Windsor with her husband and the court in the summer 
 of 1675, and gives the following account of the life she was 
 leading, in a long letter to Lady Bellasyse, with whom, una- 
 ware probably of the former intimacy between that lady and 
 the Duke of York, she had formed a confidential friendship : 
 " We spend our time very pleasantly, though Ave have but lit- 
 tle news ; Ave go every night, either by Avater or by land, a 
 walking or a fishing, or sometimes to country gentlemen's 
 houses, where we dance and play at little plays, and carry our 
 own supper, and sup in the garden or in the fields" — after the 
 jnanner of a sylvan pic-nic fete. The young duchess was then 
 in the seventeenth year of her age, and had not acquii-ed a 
 perfect knowledge of the English language, in Avhich she after- 
 ward Avrote so fluently. Mary Beatrice Avas suddenly be- 
 reaved of her first-born child, the little Princess Catharine, 
 Avho died of a convulsion fit on the 3d of October, 1675, haA'- 
 
1G75-1G77.J MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 493 
 
 iug nearly attained the attractive age of ten months. She was 
 interred, on the 5th of the same month, in the vault of Mary 
 Queen of Scots, in Westminster Abbey. Whatever might be 
 the grief of the youthful mother for the loss of her infant, she 
 was compelled to dry her tears and appear in public very soon 
 after this afflicting event. She was present with her husband 
 and his two daughters, the Princesses Mary and Anne, at the 
 lord-mayor's feast that year, which was also honored by the 
 presence of the king and queen. A very grand ball was sub- 
 sequently given by her royal highness on the 4th of December, 
 at St. James's Palace. A second daughter was born to the 
 duke and duchess in August, 1676, who was baptized by the 
 name of Isabella. 
 
 The Duchess of York was in hourly expectation of her third 
 confinement, when the marriage of her step-daughter, the 
 Princess Mary, with the Prince of Orange took place, Novem- 
 ber 4, 1677. She was present in the bed-chamber of the prin- 
 cess in St. James's Palace when those nuptials, so fatal to the 
 fortunes of herself, her husband, and her descendants, were 
 solemnized. Three days afterward the Duchess of York gave 
 birth to a son, to the great joy of the whole court. "'The 
 child is but little, but sprightly, and likely to live," records 
 Dr. Lake, in his diary. The new-born prince was christened 
 the next evening with great pomp, by Dr. Crew, Bishop of 
 Durham. King Charles acted as sponsor for his infant nephew 
 on this occasion, assisted by his nephew the Prince of Orange. 
 The little Princess Isabella was the godmother ; being only 
 fifteen months old herself, she was represented by her govern- 
 ess, the Lady Frances Villiers. King Charles bestowed his 
 own name on his nephew, and created him Duke of Cambridge, 
 an ominous title, which had successively been borne by three 
 of the Duke of York's sons by his first duchess, who had all 
 died in infancy. 
 
 The small-pox broke out in St. James's Palace three days 
 after the christening of the prince. The Princess Anne fell 
 sick of it, and a great mortality took place among the members 
 of their royal highnesses' household ; among the rest, the lady 
 governess of the royal children. Lady Frances Villiers, died 
 on the 23d of November. The young Duchess of York, how- 
 ever, showed so little fear of the infection, either for herself 
 or her infant son, that, on the 3d of December, she received a 
 visit from her step-daughter Anne, in her lying-in chamber, 
 the first time that princess was permitted to leave her room. 
 That visit, in all probability, brought the infection to the little 
 prince, for an eruption, which was doubtless an indication of 
 
494 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G77-1G78. 
 
 tlie same malady, appeared on his body and under his arm, 
 which caused his death in a convulsive fit. 
 
 Maiy Beatrice always kept up a friendly correspondence 
 with both the Prince of Orange and tlie Princess Mary. Be- 
 fore Mary of York had been married many months, reports 
 that she was sick and sorrowful reaching the British court, 
 the Duchess of York determined to pay her an incognita vis- 
 it, accompanied by the Princess Anne, under the protection 
 of the queen's lord chamberlain, the Earl of Ossory, who was 
 the husband of a Dutch lady. When her royal highness 
 had arranged her little plans, she confided her wish to King 
 Charles, and obtained his permission to undertake the jour- 
 ney. The Duke of York, who was painfully anxious about 
 his beloved daughter, gratefully acceded to his consort's de- 
 sire of visiting her, and in a familiar letter " to his son, the 
 Prince of Orange," he announces to hnn " that the duchess 
 and the Princess Anne intended coming to the Hague, very 
 incognita, having sent Robert White on before to hire a 
 liouse for them, as near the palace of his daughter as possible, 
 and that they would take Lord Ossory for their governor." 
 
 The unostentatious manner in which the duchess wished to 
 make her visit to her step-daughter, the Princess of Orange, 
 ])roves that it was simply for the satisfaction of seeing her, 
 and giving her the comfort of her sister's society unrestrained 
 by any of the formal and fatiguing ceremonials w^hich royal 
 etiquette would have imposed, upon all parties, if she had ap- 
 peared in her own character. 
 
 The duchess and the Princess Aime evidently enjoyed their 
 expedition, and gave a very favorable report of their enter- 
 tainment. Party teeling soon after ran so high against the Duke 
 of Yor.k on account, of his religion, that King Charles II. was 
 obliged to sen.d him abroad. On the 4th of March the duke 
 and duchess bade a sorrowful farewell to England, and em- 
 barked for Holland. They must have had a long and stormy 
 passage, for they did not land till the 12th. The Prince of 
 Orange came to receive them, attended by many persons of 
 rank, and conducted them to the Hague with every demon- 
 stration of respect. After a little while their royal highnesses 
 removed to Brussels, where they resided in the same house 
 Charles II. had occupied before his restoration. 
 
 " You can not imagine," writes the young duchess to Lady 
 Bellasyse, April 7, " the pleasure I have to hear any news 
 from dear England, let 'em be of what kind they will : them 
 which you sent me were very pleasant ones, and made me 
 laugh, which few things do at this time, being as sad and 
 
1G7S.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 495 
 
 luelanclioly as it is possible to be, and I think I have a great 
 deal of reason to be so." 
 
 Their separation i'vom their children was so painful to the 
 Duke and Duchess of York, that, on the 8th of August, James 
 wrote an urgent letter to the king, his brother, entreating 
 him to permit them to join him and the duchess at Brussels. 
 Charles consented, and the two princesses, Anne and little 
 Isabella, commenced their journey together on the 19th of 
 the same month. 
 
 Before the reunited family had been together many days, 
 the Earl of Sunderland sent an express to James, to apprise 
 him of the alarming illness of the king, who liad commanded 
 him to request his royal highness to hasten to him in as pri- 
 vate a manner as he could, bringing no more persons than 
 were absolutely necessary, and therefore advised him to leave 
 his duchess behind. Even if this caution had not been given, 
 Mary Beatrice could not with any propriety have left the two 
 princesses alone in a foreign country. James acquainted no 
 one but her with his journey ; which, without railroad facili- 
 ties of locomotion, was performed at railroad speed ; for he 
 reached Windsor at seven o'clock on the morning of Septem- 
 ber 12, having left Brussels only on the 8th. The king was 
 so much recovered that he was up, and shaving, when the 
 royal exile entered, unannounced, and was the first to apprise 
 him of his arrival. The suddenness of the duke's appearance 
 surprised Charles at first ; but he was very glad to see him, 
 and welcomed him affectionately. 
 
 James left London September the 25th, and rejoined his 
 anxious consort at Brussels, October 1. The Duke of Villa 
 Hermosa, in whose territories they had taken refuge, had paid 
 Mary Beatrice and the Princess Anne courteous attention in 
 the absence of his royal highness, and given a grand ball out 
 of compliment to them, which they, with the Duchess of Mod- 
 ena, honored with their presence. The friendly relations that 
 subsisted between the Duchess of York and her step-daugh- 
 ters had not been interrupted by any thing like envy, jealousy, 
 or disputes on their respective modes of faith. The leaven of 
 party had not then infused its bitter spirit into the home cir- 
 cle of the unfortunate James, to rend asunder the holiest ties 
 of nature under the sacred name of religion. Both he and his 
 consort had carefully abstained from interfering with the con- 
 science of the Princess Anne, as we find from the following 
 testimony of one of her biographers, who had very good op- 
 portunities of information : " At Brussels, the Princess Anne 
 had her own chapel allowed her, and a place assigned for the 
 
496 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1679. 
 
 exercise of her devotions according to the Cliurch of En- 
 gland." 
 
 The Duke and Duchess of York left Brussels on the 3d of 
 October, accompanied by the Princesses Anne and Isabella 
 and the Duchess of Modena, with the intention of visiting the 
 Prince and Princess of Orange on the way. They had a 
 tedious voyage, and their yacht, with the whole of the royal 
 party on board, grounded near Dort, and remained aground 
 for eighteen hours, but at seven the next morning arrived 
 safely at Delfthaven. There they entered the Prince of 
 Orange's barge, which was towed along by horses, and in this 
 manner they reached the Hague at three o'clock in the after- 
 noon of the 6th. The dowager-palace called the Old Court 
 was assigned by William for their residence. On the evening 
 of the 7th, the Duke and Duchess of York, the Princess Anne 
 and the Duchess of Modena supped in public with the Prince 
 and Princess of Orange. While they were taking this meal, 
 Mr. Carlton arrived with an express from King Charles to 
 his brother, the Duke of York, recalling him and his family, 
 directing them to embark for the Downs, and remain there 
 till farther orders. The Duchess of Modena felt severely the- 
 approaching separation from her beloved daughter, with whom 
 she liad now spent two months; a'nd when they all appeared 
 for the last time at the court of the Princess of Orange that 
 evening, her countenance bore testimony to the sorrow that 
 filled her heart. The Duke and Duchess of York, with the 
 Princesses Anne and Isabella and their retinue, commenced 
 their journey at eight o'clock on the morning of the 9th. 
 The Prince and Princess of Orange accompanied them as far 
 as Maesland Sluys, and there they parted on apparently af- 
 fectionate terms. This was the last time James and his 
 daughter Mary ever saw each other. He had had too much 
 reason, at different times, to be aware of her husband's 
 treacherous intrigues against him ; but of her nothing could 
 induce him to believe ill, till the fact was forced upon him, 
 nine years afterward, by her deeds. 
 
 The passage from Holland proved very stormy, and the 
 duchess suffered excessively from sea-sickness. The king had 
 changed his mind about their coming to London, and ordered 
 the Duke of Lauderdale to make arrangements for their re- 
 ception in Scotland: two frigates met them in the Downs, 
 with orders to convey their royal highnesses to Leith without 
 delay. The duchess was not in a state to hazard a farther 
 voyage, neither dared the duke bring her Qii shore without 
 having a written permission from the king ; ill as she was, she 
 
IG7'J.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 497 
 
 remained in the yacht tossing in the Downs, while an express 
 was sent to acquaint his majesty with her distress, and pray- 
 ing that she might be allowed to finish her journey to Scotland 
 by land. Her dangerous condition, for she was vomiting 
 blood, prevented any one from raising an objection, and least 
 of all King Charles, who had a great regard for his sister-in- 
 law. They landed at Deal, and traveling post, arrived unex- 
 ]iectedly at St. James's Palace on Sunday night, October 12, to 
 the surjjrise of some, the joy of others, and the annoyance of 
 many. The king gave them an afiectionate welcome, but as- 
 sured his brother that he had no power to protect liim fi'om 
 an impeachment and its consequences, if he persisted in re- 
 maining in England. 
 
 Mary Beatrice, though greatly iirged by King Charles to 
 remain with the two Princesses Anne and Isabella at St. 
 James's Palace, determined as before to share the wayward 
 fortunes of her wandering lord, though it involved the pangs 
 of a second separation from her child. Her high sense of con- 
 jugal duty proved, as before, victorious over the strong im- 
 pulses of maternal affection. How deeply this proof of the 
 love and self-devotion of his beautiful young consort was ap- 
 preciated by the banished prince may be perceived by the 
 manner in which he has recorded her conduct on this occasion 
 in his private journal. The passage shall be given in his own 
 words : " The duchess, notwithstanding her late illness, and 
 vomiting blood at sea, the short time it was designed the duke 
 should stay in Scotland, and the king pressing her for that 
 reason to remain at court, would nevertheless accompany him; 
 and though she was not above twenty years old, chose rather, 
 even with the hazard- of her life, to be a constant companion 
 of the duke her husband's misfortunes and hardships, than to 
 enjoy her ease in any part of the world without him." 
 
 They left London, October 27, 1679, and had a tedious jour- 
 ney to Scotland, where they did not arrive till the 20th of 
 November. They were loyally treated and hospitably re- 
 ceived at Berwick-on-Tweed. They made their public entry 
 into Edinburgh on the 4th of December, " which was so 
 splendid," says a contemporary, who was probably a witness 
 of the pageant, " that a greater triumph that city did never 
 see ; nor were the meanest of the Scotch nation wanting in 
 expressing the joy they conceived on this occasion." 
 
 In spite of all tlie calumnies that had been circulated 
 against the Duke of York, and the prejudicial reports of his 
 bigotry, and the bigotry of his consort, universal satisfaction 
 was manifested by all ranks of people at the sight of both. 
 
498 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G79. 
 
 Scotland, having suffered for upward of seventy years from 
 the evils of absenteeism, naturally looked with hope to the 
 increase of national prosperity which the establishment of a 
 vice-regal court was likely to cause. 
 
 Unfortunately, the season of the year was not calculated to 
 impress one who had been born in the sunny land of Italy, 
 and accustomed to the genial temperature of that voluptuous 
 clime, with a favorable idea of the northern metropolis of 
 Great Britain, surpassing all others as it does in the beauty 
 and grandeur of its situation, and abounding in historical 
 antiquities. There was a lack of the domestic luxuries to 
 which the duchess had been accustomed in her royal home 
 of St. James's Palace. She found Holyrood Abbey not only 
 destitute of furniture, but in a state of ruinous dilapidation, 
 not having undergone any effectual repairs since Cromwell 
 had used that ancient abode of the monarchs of Scotland as a 
 barrack for his troopers, who had plundered or destroyed all 
 its furniture and decorations. The only a]iartraents that 
 were habitable were in the occupation of the Duke of Hamil- 
 ton ; and though some arrangements had been made for the 
 reception of their royal highnesses, they were exposed to 
 much inconvenience and discomfort. Mary Beatrice took 
 these things patiently, for the sake of him by whose side she 
 cheerfully encountered every trial and hardship. 
 
 Although the temperature of Edinburgh at that severe sea- 
 son of the year could not have been otherwise than trying to 
 a native of Italy, Mary Beatrice made no complaint of the 
 climate, but did her best to cheer her consort and enliven the 
 court with balls and concerts. Her maids of honor amused 
 lier and the northern aristocracy with private theatricals.; 
 and she writes on the 16th of January, " I intend to begin 
 to dance, which I liave not done since Christmas ; my maids 
 are going to act another play ; it is to be Aurenzebe." 
 
 The king had promised the Duke and Duchess of York 
 that they should return to England early in the new year, 
 and he was as good as his woi'd. 
 
 Though the season of the year was improper .for a sea-voy- 
 age, yet the duchess, who, to use James's own words, " was 
 now inured to hardships as well as himself, counted that for 
 nothing." So anxious was she to embrace her only child 
 again, from whom she had now been separated for four long 
 months, that rather than submit to the delay of an overland 
 journe)'', she determined to return by sea. 
 
 Mary Beatrice cheerfully embarked with her beloved con- 
 sort in the yacht, commanded by Captain Gunman, which the 
 
1G80.J MAKY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 499 
 
 king liad kindly sent for their transit, and arrived at Dept- 
 ford February the 24th. There they left the yacht, and went 
 np the river to- Whiteliall in a barge. They were saluted by 
 tlie guns from the ships and from the Tower, and at tlieir 
 hmding at the privy-stairs were received by King Charles in 
 the most affectionate manner. His majesty led the duchess 
 to the queen's apartment, and from thence to her own, whith- 
 er many of the nobility and persons of quality immediately 
 repaired to compliment their royal highnesses on their safe 
 return, and to kiss their hands. That night tlie cily was 
 lUuminated and blazed with bonfires. 
 
 Two days after, the lord-mayor, aldermen, and common 
 council came to pay their respects to the duke and duchess ; 
 the recorder delivered a congratulatory address to the duke 
 on his safe arrival, and expressed the prayers of the city for 
 liis health and prosperity. The civic powers, having kissed 
 his royal highness's hand, were conducted into the apartment 
 of the duchess, to whom the recorder also made a compli- 
 mentary speech, assuring her of the affection of the city of 
 London, and their joy at her return. They then kissed her 
 hand, and withdrew, highly satisfied with their reception. 
 Tlie next day Su- Robert Clayton, the lord-mayor, feasted the 
 royal brothers with a magnificent supper. 
 
 Mary Beatrice endeavored to keep np an interest for her 
 husband with the gay world, by giving brilliant balls and en- 
 tertainments, and appearing often in public. The irreproacha- 
 ble purity of her life, and her amiable conduct as a step-moth- 
 er, entitled her to universal respect ; and notwithstanding 
 her religion, she stood too high in public opinion for any one 
 to mix her name up with the popish plot accusations, although 
 Coleman, one of its earliest victims, had been her secretary. 
 Mary Beatrice was at this momentous period an object of 
 watchful observation to the enemies of her lord. She visited 
 Cambridge the latter end of September, and while there gave 
 a grand ball to propitiate the university. From Cambridge 
 she came to Newmarket, to join the duke, who was there 
 with their majesties for the October races. In the midst of 
 those gay festive scenes, Mary Beatrice and her lord bore 
 anxious hearts, for it was at that time the question of his roy- 
 al highness's banishment from the court was daily debated in 
 council. James was desirous of being permitted to defend 
 himself from the attack Avhich he knew would be made upon 
 him at the approaching meeting of the Parliament, and the 
 ministers were for driving him beyond seas again, Charles 
 temporized, as usual, by taking a middle course ; which was 
 
500 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1680. 
 
 to send his brother back to Scotland, with all possible marks 
 of respect, as his representative in the government of that 
 realm. The king's pleasure Avas communicated to the Duke 
 of York, October 18, 1680, with directions for him to embark 
 for Scotland on the 20th. His faithful consort was, as usual, 
 ready to share his adverse fortunes ; she gave her farewell 
 levee at St. James's Palace on the 19th. Mary Beatrice had 
 once more to sustain the painful trial of parting with her 
 child, Avhom she was not permitted to take to Scotland with 
 her, and she never saw her again. 
 
 A cordial it assuredly must have been to the sad hearts of 
 the royal exiles, could they have understood half the pleasure 
 with which their arrival was anticipated on the friendly shores 
 of Scotland. They had a long and dangerous passage, en- 
 countered a terrible storm at sea, and were beating about for 
 nearly five days and nights in the rough October gales, before 
 they could make their port. 
 
 The duke and duchess arrived with the evening's tide in 
 Kirkcaldy roads, about ten o'clock at night, on Monday, Octo- 
 ber 25. The Duke of Rothes having offered their royal high- 
 nesses the hospitality of his house at Leslie, about nine miles 
 distant, they proceeded thither, escorted by a troop of his 
 majesty's Scotch guards, attended by a noble train of coaches, 
 and many of the nobility and gentry on horseback. So gallant 
 a company had perhaps never swept through the long strag- 
 gling street of Kirkcaldy since the days when an independent 
 s-overeign of Scotland kept court in the kingdom of Fife. Les- 
 lie House is seated in a richly-wooded park, on a picturesque 
 eminence between the river Leven and the water of Lotrie, 
 which unite their sparkling streams in a romantic glen in the 
 pleasaunce. The present mansion occupies only the frontage 
 of the site of the palace where the Duke of Rothes feasted the 
 Duke and Duchess of York, with their retinue and all the 
 aristocracy of the district. The former edifice was built on 
 the model of Holyrood House, and in rival splendor to that 
 ancient seat of royalty, having a gallery three feet longer than 
 that at Holyrood, hung with fine historical portraits on either 
 side, and richly furnished. 
 
 Tlie Duke and Duchess of Y^'ork were splendidly entertained 
 for- three days and nights at Leslie House by their magnifi- 
 cent host and his kind-hearted duchess. On Friday, October 
 the 29th, their royal highnesses departed from Leslie House 
 for Edinburgh, where they were well received. 
 
 There is an exquisite portrait of Mary Beatrice, by Lely, in 
 the collection of the Earl of Rothes, at Leslie House, repre- 
 
1680.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 501 
 
 senting ber such as she was at that period of her life, and in 
 the costume which she then wore. Her hair is arranged in its 
 natural beauty, clustering in full curls round the brow, and de- 
 scending in flowing ringlets on the bosom, a style far more 
 in unison with the classic outline of her features and the ex- 
 pressive softness of her melting eyes, than the lofty coiffure 
 which she often wore. Her dress is scarlet, embroidered and 
 fringed with gold ; her tucker and loose sleeves of delicate 
 cambric. A rich and ample scarf of royal blue, fringed with 
 gold and edged with pearls, crosses one shoulder and falls over 
 the lap in magnificent drapery to the ground. She is sitting 
 in a garden by a pillar ; her left hand clasps the neck of a 
 beautiful white Italian greyhound ; a tree that overshadows 
 her is wreathed with honeysuckles and roses. Her age was 
 under twenty-two when this portrait Avas painted ; it was one 
 of Lely's last and finest works of art. He died that same year, 
 so Mary Beatrice must have sat for the portrait, before she 
 quitted London, for the express jDurpose of presenting it to the 
 Duke of Rothes. 
 
 Holyrood Palace had been repaired, and a royal suite of 
 apartments fitted up and furnished for the accommodation of the 
 Duke and Duchess of York and their retinue. There can be 
 little doubt that the state beds at present pointed out by guide- 
 books and guides as the beds of Mary Queen of Scots and 
 Charles I. were a part of this arrangement, all the ancient 
 royal furniture at that palace having been plundered or de- 
 stroyed by Cromwell's troopers. 
 
 A brilliant court was kept at Holyrood, to which resorted 
 the principal nobility and gentry of the land ; and Mary Bea- 
 trice soon succeeded, by her gracious and prudent deport- 
 ment, in winning the hearts of the generous aristocracy of 
 Scotland. If her religion were unpopular, the purity of her 
 mind and manners was unimpeachable. Young, beautiful, in- 
 nocent, and desirous of pleasing, cold indeed must have been 
 the hearts that could have hardened themselves against her 
 gentle influence ; and it is certain that the interest she excited 
 at that period in Scotland operated long in favor both of her 
 husband and her son, and was even felt to the third genera- 
 tion. The Scotch ladies were at first greatly astonished at the 
 novel refreshment of tea, which her royal highness dispensed 
 at her evening parties, that beverage having never before been 
 tasted in Scotland ; but the fashion was quickly imitated, and 
 soon became- general. 
 
 James has been unsparingly accused by modern historians 
 of countenancing all the cruelties that were practiced on the 
 
502 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1680. 
 
 insurgent Caineronians and other non-conformists in Scotland, 
 by presiding in council when the torture of " the boot" was 
 applied. There is not the slightest proof of this. The fact is, 
 that the dreadful scenes referred to took place under the au- 
 spices of the brutal Lauderdale before James came, and after 
 his departure ; and as both are indiscriminately styled the 
 " duke" in the records, the mistake was very easily made by 
 persons who were not very careful in testing their authority 
 by the simple but unerring guide of dates. 
 
 James and his duchess arrived at Edinburgh in perilous 
 times, and in the midst of the sanguinary executions that fol- 
 lowed an insurrection, in Avhich great outrages had been com- 
 mitted on the lives and property of the Episcopal party. 
 The duke did his utmost to calm the jarring elements that 
 were ready to break out into fresh tumults. The council, 
 breathing blood, were for going to the rigor of the law ; James 
 offered pai'don to the condemned on the easy terms of crying 
 " God save the king !" The council talked of tortures and 
 death ; his royal highness recommended mad-houses, hard 
 labor, or banishment. His suggestions proved more efficacious 
 than the barbarous proceedings of Lauderdale and his col- 
 leagues, and he succeeded, in a great measure, in tranquilizing 
 Scotland. He gained tlie esteem and respect of the gentry, 
 and won the affections of the peojjle. 
 
 The long Avinter passed wearily over the banished duke : 
 the coldness of the season was severely felt in the northern 
 metropolis by his Italian duchess from the sweet south, but 
 she bore every thing with uncomplaining patience for his sake. 
 The spring brought them heavy tidings ; their little daugh- 
 ter, the Princess Isabella, a very lovely and promising child 
 in her fifth year, died at St. James's Palace on the 4th of March. 
 
 The arrival of her royal step-daughter, the Princess Anne, 
 is mentioned by Mary Beatrice with unaffected pleasure in a 
 letter to the Marchioness of Iluntly, with whom she appears 
 to have been on very .confidential terms. 
 
 On the 28th, the Parl»iament of Scotland met with great 
 pomp. The Duke of York, as lord high commissioner from 
 his brother King Cliarles, rode in state from Holyrood Palace 
 to the Parliament House, and opened it in person, the duchess, 
 the Princess Anne, and all their ladies being present. The 
 appearance of this unwonted galaxy of royal and noble beau- 
 ties, in jeweled pomp, added grace and glory to the scene, 
 and was calculated to soften the combative spirit in which 
 the Scottish peers and chieftains had, from time immemorial, 
 been accustomed to meet. 
 
1681.] MARY BEATKICE OF MODENA. 503 
 
 The Duchess of York Avas passionately fond of music, but 
 had strong moral objections to the coarse comedies of the 
 era. She was wont to say, " that there was no sin, she be- 
 lieved, in going to theatres, provided the pieces selected for 
 representation were not of an objectionable character; but that 
 the stage might and ought to be rendered a medium of con- 
 veying moral instruction to the i:)ublic, instead of flattering 
 and inculcating vice." 
 
 While in Scotland, Mary Beatrice met with a frightful ac- 
 cident, which had nearly cost her her life, in consequence of 
 being thrown from her horse with great violence, but fortu- 
 nately for her, on a sandy plain ; if it had been on rocky 
 ground she must have been killed, for her long riding-dress 
 got entangled in some part of her saddle, and she was drag- 
 ged a considerable distance with her face on the sand, and 
 received several kicks from the infuriated animal before she 
 could be extricated from her perilous situation. When she 
 was taken up she was covered with dust and blood, blacken- 
 ed with bruises, and perfectly insensible ; every one thought 
 she was dead. Surgical aid being procured, she was bled, 
 and put into bed ; she only suftered from the bruises, and re- 
 covered Avithout any injury to her person. It does not ap- 
 jjear that the duke was with her on this occasion. He had 
 a very great objection to ladies riding on horseback, Avhich, 
 Avhen Mary Beatrice was first married to him, he Avas accus- 
 tomed to tell her " Avas dangerous and improper." She Avas, 
 however, passionately fond of equestrian exercise, and her im- 
 portunities had prevailed over his extreme reluctance to 
 alloAV her to ride. 
 
 At last the king sent for him on private business. Charles 
 detained the duke eight Aveeks, and then sent him back in a 
 fine vessel, which unfortunately struck on a dangerous rock ; 
 and it Avas Avith great difticulty he escaped, in his OAvn shal- 
 lop, Avith five other persons. He saA^ed the life of his enemy, 
 the Marquis of Montrose, by pulling him into the boat Avith 
 his oAvn'hand, notAvithstanding the remonstrances of his com- 
 panions, Avho feared the additional weight Avould sink the 
 crowded boat. The conduct of the royal admiral on this oc- 
 casion has, it is Avell knoAvn, been strangely misrepresented by 
 Burnet and many other Avriters, Avho have copied his false 
 statement. The Duke of York performed the rest of his voy- 
 age in the Happy Return, and landed at Leith the next 
 day, Sunday, May 7, at eight o'clock in the evening, and was 
 the first to announce the news of his late peril to the duchess. 
 Thoy all left Edinburgh on the 12th of May by sea, performed 
 
504 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G82. 
 
 the voyage safely, and were met and welcomed by the king 
 and queen at Erith, 
 
 The royal brothers, with their consorts, proceeded in a sort 
 of triumph on their pleasant homeward progress up the 
 Thames to Whitehall, where they landed amid the acclama- 
 tions of the crowded shores, having been saluted all the way 
 up the river by the ships in the roads and the guns from the 
 Tower. They proceeded next to Arlington House, m the 
 park, where they were entertained by the earl and countess 
 with a magnificent banquet. The lord-mayor and aldermen, 
 with many worthy citizens, came the same day to offer their 
 congratulations to their royal highnesses on their happy re- 
 turn. In the evening the city blazed with illuminations and 
 bonfires, the bells rang, and all the tokens of popular rejoicing 
 were expressed. 
 
 The Duchess of Modena being then in Flanders, came to 
 visit her daughter. No sooner was it known that she was in 
 London, than the party that had formed a base confederacy 
 to stigmatize the birth of the infant, in case it proved to be a 
 prince, endeavored to poison the minds of the people, by cir- 
 culating a report that the Duchess of Modena only came to 
 facilitate the popish design of introducing a boy to supplant 
 the female heirs of the crown, in the event of the Duchess of 
 York giving birth to a daughter ; thus imputing to the Duch- 
 ess of Modena the absurd intention of depriving her own 
 grandchild of the dignity of a Princess of Great Britain, and 
 the next place in the regal succession after her two eldest sis- 
 ters, for the sake of substituting a boy, whom they pretended 
 she had brought from Holland for that purpose. So early 
 was the determination betrayed of impugning any male issue 
 that might be born of the marriage of James and Mary 
 Beatrice by the faction which, six years afterward, succeeded 
 in some degree in stigmatizing the birth of their second son. 
 The infant was a daughter, and only lived eight weeks. 
 
 The following spring James endeavored to enliven the droop- 
 ing spirits of his duchess, by taking her and his daughter 
 Anne to visit the University of Oxford. They came from Wind- 
 sor, May 10, 1683, and were met by the Earl of Abingdon 
 and two hundred of the county gentry, who escorted them to 
 Eastgate, where they were received by the mayor and alder- 
 men, who presented the duke with a pair of gold-fringed 
 gloves, and the duchess and the Lady Anne with a dozen pairs 
 of ladies' long gloves, richly embroidered and fringed. Their 
 royal highnesses visited all the colleges, and received many 
 compliments and presents. 
 
1G85.] MAEY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 505 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The death of Charles II. called the consort of Mary Beatrice 
 to the throne of Great Britain, February 6, 1685. " I confess," 
 said Mary Beatrice, ten years afterward, "I took no pleasure 
 in the envied title of queen: I was so greatly afflicted at the 
 death of King Charles that I dared not give free vent to my 
 feelings, lest I should be suspected of hypocrisy." 
 
 The coronation of James and Mary Beatrice was solemnized 
 on the 23d of April, with great magnificence. The ancient pic- 
 turesque custom of strewing flowers before the royal proces- 
 sion was revived on this occasion. Herb-strewers appeared in 
 the full-dress costume of the period, deep pointed bodices, 
 with open robes, looped back to show rich petticoats. They 
 wore long gloves, and very deep ruffles, falling from the 
 elbows nearly to the wrists. Baskets containing two bushels 
 of flowers and sweet herbs each, were carried — no light burden 
 for the fair strewers — two women to each basket, and nine 
 baskets full were strewn. As it was April, we may presume 
 that violets, primroses, cowslips, pansies, bluebells and jon- 
 quils, with stores of sweet-brier sprigs, and other herbs of 
 grace, formed the staple commodity over which the gold-broider- 
 ed slippers of the beautiful Italian queen and her noble attend- 
 ants trod daintily on that proud day, as they proceeded from 
 the hall to the western entrance of the abbey, the drums beat- 
 ing a march, the trumpets sounding levets, and the choir sing- 
 ing all the Avay to the church, the well-known anthem, begin- 
 ning " O Lord, grant our King a long life," etc. The people 
 were prepared to look with pleasure on the queen, for she had 
 hallowed the day of her consecration with an act of tender and 
 munificent charity, by releasing all prisoners who were in 
 confinement for small debts not exceeding five pounds, tak- 
 ing upon herself the payment of all liabilities of the kind 
 throughout the United Kingdom, without respect of creed. 
 Eighty persons were liberated from Newgate alone by this 
 gracious compassion of the queen. The Bishop of London 
 presented her with a small book of the prayers appointed to 
 be used at the coronation ; and she read from it with the 
 greatest devotion and attention during the whole of the cere- 
 mony, made the responses reverently, and pronounced a fer- 
 vent Amen at the end of every prayer. 
 
 W 
 
506 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1687-1C88. 
 
 The rebellion of the Dukes of Argyle and Monmouth occur- 
 red in June, but was speedily put down ; and very sanguinary 
 executions followed those of the two dukes. With these the 
 queen had nothing to do. She was in very ill health, and pos- 
 sessed little influence with the king at that time. She went 
 to Bath in the autumn of 1687 with the king, who left her 
 there for a time, and then returned and brought her back to 
 Windsor. Mary Beatrice gave birth to a second son on Trin- 
 ity Sunday, June 10, 1688, at St. James's Palace. This event 
 took place at the inauspicious period when the king had given 
 irreparable offense to the nation by committing the Archbish- 
 op of Canterbury and six prelates to the Tower. 
 
 Mary Beatrice was now a proud and a joyful mother, and 
 her recovery was unusually rapid. She received visits froni 
 ladies at the end of a fortnight, and as early as the 28th of 
 June gave audience in her chamber to Mynheer Zulestein, the 
 Dutch envoy-extraordinary, who was charged with the formal 
 compliments of the Prince and Princess of Orange on the birth 
 of her son. For the first two months the existence of this 
 " dearest boon of Heaven," as the royal parents called their 
 son, appeared to hang on a tenure to the full as precarious as 
 the lives of the other infants, whose births had tantalized 
 Mary Beatrice with maternal hopes and fears. Those children 
 having been nourished at the breast, it was conjectured that, 
 for some constitutional reason, the natural aliment was preju- 
 dicial to her majesty's off'spring, and they determined to bring 
 up the Prince of Wales by hand. The queen, who was going 
 to Bath, deferred her journey, and came frequently to see him. 
 She attributed his illness to the want of a nurse, and the im- 
 proper food with which they were poisoning rather than nour- 
 ishing him. "The state to which I saw my son reduced by 
 this hue experiment," said her majesty, " would deter me from 
 ever allowing it to be tried on the children of others. When 
 he had been fed with gruel till he was about six weeks old, he 
 became so dangerously ill that they thought every sigh would 
 be his last. We had sent him to Richmond, a country house, 
 to be brought up under the care of Lady Powis, his govern- 
 ess ; and he got so much worse, that she expected his death 
 every moment. I got into my coach, with the determination 
 of going to him at all events. Lady Powis had sent word to 
 lis that, if the infant died, she would dispatch a courier to spare 
 US from the shock of coming to the house Avhere he was. 
 Every man we met by the way I dreaded was that courier." 
 King James accompanied his anxious consort on this journey, 
 and participated in all her solicitude and fears. When the 
 
1688.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 507 
 
 royal parents reached the river-side, they feared to cross, and 
 sent a messenger forward to inquire whether their son were 
 alive, that they might not have the additional affliction of see- 
 ing him if he were dead. After a brief but agonizing pause 
 of suspense, word was brought to them " the prince is yet 
 alive," and they ventured over. "When we arrived," con- 
 tinues the queen, " we found my son still living. I asked the 
 physicians ' if they had yet hopes of doing any thing for him ?' 
 They all told us 'they reckoned him as dead.' I sent into the 
 village in quest of a wet-nurse (she who suckled him). I gave 
 him that nurse: he took her milk ; it revived him, and she has 
 happily reared him." 
 
 The wet-nurse whom the queen, prompted by the powerful 
 instincts of maternity, had introduced to her suffering infant 
 to supply those wants which the cruel restraints of royalty 
 had deprived herself of the sweet office of relieving, was the 
 wife of a tile-maker at Richmond. She came to the palace at 
 the first summons, in her cloth petticoat and waistcoat, with 
 old shoes and no stockings ; but being a healthy, honest per- 
 son, she was approved by the doctors, and still more so by 
 the little patient, to whom she proved of more service than 
 all the physicians in his august father's realm. Other tales, 
 of a less innocent character, connected with the prince and his 
 foster-mother, were spread by the restless malignity of the 
 faction that had conspired, long before his birth, to deprive 
 him of his regal inheritance. The next falsehood circulated 
 Avas that the tile-maker's wife was the real mother of the 
 infant who was cradled in state at Windsor ; for whom, like 
 the mother of Moses, she had been cunningly called to per- 
 form the office of a nurse. The likeness of the young prince 
 to both his parents was remarkable. 
 
 The last birthday commemoration of Mary Beatrice ever 
 celebrated in the British court, was on the 25th of September 
 this year, instead of the 5th of October, o. s., as on previous 
 occasions. It was observed with all the usual tokens of re- 
 joicing — ringing of bells, bonfires, festivities, and a splendid 
 court ball. Hollow and joyless gayety I The Dutch fleet 
 was hovering on the coast, and every one awaited the event 
 in bi'eathless suspense — no one with a more anxious heart 
 than the queen. She wrote a touching and very temperate 
 letter to her royal step-daughter and once loving companion, 
 the Princess of Orange, telling her "that it was reported, 
 and had been for a long time, that the Prince of Orange was 
 coming over with an army, but that till lately she had not 
 believed it possible; and that it was also said that her royal 
 
508 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1688. 
 
 liighness was coming over with him," This her majesty 
 protested " she never would believe, knowing her to be too 
 good to perform such a thing against the worst of fathers, 
 much less against the best, who, she believed, had loved her 
 better than the rest of his children." The king, with his 
 usual want of judgment, caused the Prince of Wales to be 
 christened in the Roman Catholic chapel at St. James's ; the 
 Pope, represented by his nuncio Count d'Adda, being god- 
 father, the queen-dowager, Catharine of Braganza, god-moth- 
 er. The little prince was named James Francis Edward. 
 
 The first intelligence of the landing of the Prince of Orange 
 was brought to King James by an ofiicer, who had ridden 
 with such speed, that before he could conclude his narrative, 
 he fell exhausted at the feet of the king. It was not till the 
 17th of November that James set out for the army. A vio- 
 lent bleeding at the nose came on the night of his arrival at 
 Salisbury, and could not be stopped till a vein was breathed 
 in his arm. The next day, when he was on horseback view- 
 ing the plains to choose a place for his camp, it returned 
 upon him with greater violence, and continued to do so at 
 intervals for the next three days. He was let blood four 
 times that week. The excessive loss of blood left King 
 James in a state of death-like exhaustion, while the recur- 
 rence of the hemorrhage every time he attempted to rouse 
 himself for either bodily or mental exertion, bore witness 
 of his unfitness for either, and produced despondency, which 
 physiologists would not have attributed to want of courage 
 in a man who had formerly given great proofs of personal 
 intrepidity, but to the prostration of the animal system. It 
 was at this terrible crisis that Churchill, the creature of his 
 bounty and the confidant of his most secret councils, deserted 
 to the Prince of Orange, with the Duke of Grafton and other 
 officers of his army. This example Avas quickly followed by 
 others. James was bewildered, paralyzed. He knew not 
 whom to trust. 
 
 When King James returned dispirited to his metroplis, the 
 first news that greeted him there was the desertion of his 
 daughter Anne. The blow was fatal to his cause as a king, 
 but it was as a father that he felt it. " God help me ?^ ex- 
 claimed he, bursting into tears ; " my own children have for- 
 saken me in my distress." He entered his palace with those 
 bitter drops of agony still overflowing his cheeks, repeating 
 these pathetic words : " Oh ! if mine enemies only liad cursed 
 me, I could have borne it," 
 
 The Prince of Orange continued to advance, unopposed, but 
 
1688.] MAKY BEATKICE OF MODENA. 609 
 
 cautiously. Neither he, nor any one else who had known the 
 James Stuart of former years, could believe that he would 
 abandon his realm without a blow. Mental anguish had un- 
 hinged the mind of the unfortunate king, his bodily strength 
 having been previously prostrated by excessive loss of blood 
 and other circumstances, that sufficiently indicate the disar- 
 ranged state of the brain at that momentous crisis. 
 
 The populace had been infuriated by reports artfully circu- 
 lated, that the Irish regiments were to be employed in a gen- 
 eral massacre of the Protestants, and they began to attack the 
 houses of the Roman Catholics in the city. Terrors for the 
 safety of his queen next possessed the tottering mind of 
 James, and he determined that she should cross over to 
 France with their child. When he first mentioned this proj- 
 ect to Mary Beatrice, she declared " that nothing should in- 
 duce her to leave him in his present distress." On his con- 
 tinuing to urge her, she asked him " if he purposed to come 
 away himself? for if he did, and wished to send her before to 
 facilitate their mutual escape, she would no longer dispute his 
 orders." James assured her that such was his intention, and 
 she made no farther opposition. The celebrated Count de 
 Lauzun and his friend St. Victor crossed the Channel to oifer 
 their services to the distressed King and Queen of England 
 at this dark epoch of their fortunes, when they appeared aban- 
 doned by all the world. Lauzun was the husband of James's 
 maternal cousin. Mademoiselle de Montpensier. St. Victor 
 was a gentleman of Avignon, the son of that brave St. Victor 
 whose life King James had saved, when Duke of York, by 
 his personal valor at the battle of Dunkirk, thirty years before. 
 James determined to confide to them the perilous office of 
 conveying his queen and infant son to France ; and they en- 
 gaged in the enterprise in a spirit worthy of the age of chiv- 
 alry. 
 
 December 9 was appointed for the departure of the queen 
 and prince. It was Sunday, but no Sabbath stillness hallowed 
 it in the turbulent metropolis. The morning was ushered in 
 with tumults and conflagrations : tidings of evil import ar- 
 rived from all parts of the kingdom. When the evening ap- 
 proached, the queen implored her husband to permit her to 
 remain and share his perils : he replied, " that it was his in- 
 tention to follow her in four-and-twenty hours, and that it Avas 
 necessary, for the sake of their child, that she should precede 
 him." 
 
 Soon after midnight St. Victor, dressed in the coarse habit 
 of a seaman, and armed, ascended by a secret staircase to the 
 
510 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G88. 
 
 apartment of the king, bringing witli him some part of the 
 disguise which he had caused to be prepared for the queen, 
 and told the king all was ready for her majesty's departure. 
 Her majesty confided in Lady Strickland, the lady of the bed- 
 chamber who was in waiting that night. As soon as the 
 queen was attired, her escort entered the chamber. The 
 Count de Lauzun and St. Victor had secured some of her 
 jewels on their persons, in case of accidents; their majesties 
 were only occupied in cares for the safety and comfort of 
 their royal infant. The king, turning to Lauzun, said, with 
 deep emotion, " I confide my queen and son to your care. 
 All must be hazarded to convey them with the utmost speed 
 to France." Lauzun presented his hand to the queen to lead 
 her away. She turned a parting look on the king — an elo- 
 quent but mute fixrewell — and, followed by the nurse with her 
 sleeping infant, crossed the great gallery in silence, stole down 
 the back-stairs preceded by St. Victor, who had the keys, and 
 passing through a postern door into privy-gardens, quitted 
 Whitehall forever. A coach was waiting at the gate, which 
 St. Victor had borrowed of his friend the Florentine resident, 
 as if it had been for his own use. " On their way they had 
 to pass six sentinels, who all, according to custom, cried out, 
 * Who goes there ?' He replied, without hesitation, ' A 
 friend ;' and when they saw he had the master-key of the 
 gates, they allowed him to pass without opposition. The 
 queen, with the prince, his nurses, and the Count de Lauzun, 
 got into the coach. St. Victor placed himself by the coach- 
 man on the box to direct him. They drove to Westminster, 
 and arrived safely at the place called the Horse-ferry, where 
 a boat was waiting." The night was snowy and stormy, and 
 so dark, that when they got into the boat they could not see 
 each other, though closely seated, for the boat was very small. 
 Thus, with literally " only one frail plank between her and 
 eternity," did the Queen of Great Britain cross the swollen 
 waters of the Thames, her tender infxnt of six months old in 
 her arms, with no better attendance than his nurses, no other 
 escort than the Count de Lauzun and St. Victor. The pas- 
 sage was rendered very difficult and dangerous by the vio- 
 lence of the wind, and the heavy and incessant rain. When 
 they reached tlie opposite bank of the Thames, St. Victor call- 
 ed aloud by name on Monsieur Dusions, the page of the back- 
 stairs, who ought 'to have been there waiting with a coach 
 and six, which had been engaged by Count de Lauzun. The 
 page answered promptly, but told them that the coach was 
 still at the inn. Thither St. Victor ran to hasten it, leaving 
 
1688.] MAEY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 511 
 
 Lauzun to protect the queen. Her majesty, meantime, with- 
 drew herself and her little company under the walls of the 
 old church at Lambeth, without any other shelter from the 
 wind and bitter cold, or any other consolation than that the 
 snow ajid rain had ceased. On that spot, which has been 
 rendered a site of historic interest by this affecting incident, 
 the beautiful and unfortunate consort of the last of our Stuart 
 kings remained standing, with her infant son fondly clasped 
 to her bosom, during the agonizing interval of suspense caused 
 by the delay of the coach, dreading every moment that he 
 would awake and betray them by his cries. Her apprehen- 
 sion was unfounded. He had slept sweetly while they carried 
 him in the dead of night from his palace nursery to tlie water- 
 side: neither wind nor rain had disturbed him; lie had felt 
 none of the perils or difficulties of the stormy passage, and ho 
 continued wrapt in the same profound repose during this anx- 
 ious pause, alike unconscious of his own reverse of fortune 
 and his mother's woe. 
 
 Mary Beatrice looked back with streaming eyes toward 
 the royal home where her beloved consort remained, lonely 
 and surrounded with perils, and vainly endeavored to ti*ace 
 out the lights of Whitehall among those that were reflected 
 from the opposite shore, along the dark rolling river. The 
 historians of that period declare that she remained an hour 
 lander the walls of the old church with her baby, waiting for 
 the coach, which through some mistake never came, and that 
 a hackney-coach was at last pi'ocured with difficulty. This 
 was not the case, for St. Victor found the coach and six all 
 ready at the inn, which was within sight of the river ; the de- 
 lay, therefore, must have been comparatively brief, but when 
 time is measured by the exigency of circumstances, minutes 
 are lengthened into hours. 
 
 The haste and agitation in which St. Victor came to inquire 
 after the carriage, combined with his foreign accent and idiom, 
 excited observation in the inn-yard, where a man with a lan- 
 tern was on the watch ; and when he saw the coach and six 
 ready to start, ran out to reconnoitre, and made directly to- 
 ward the spot where the queen was standing. St. Victor ran 
 with all speed on the otiier side the way, fearing that he 
 would recognize the party on the bank, and put himself full 
 in his path ; they came in contact with each other, fell, and 
 rolled in the mud together. They made mutual apologies for 
 the accident. The light was extinguished in the fall, which 
 fwored the escape of the queen, who got into the coach as 
 before. The page was to have returned, not having been in- 
 
512 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1688. 
 
 trusted with the secret ; but having recoguized the queen, his 
 mistress, he wished to follow her. As they left the town, 
 they encountered various of the guards. One of them said. 
 " Come and see ; there is certainly a coach full of papists !" 
 
 They took the way to Gravesend, distant from London 
 twenty miles. There they found three Irish captains, whom 
 the king had sent the same day they departed to serve in the 
 yacht. These officers, finding the queen and prince slower 
 than they expected, advanced, as they had been ordered, to 
 meet them, having provided themselves with a little boat 
 ■which was close by the shore. Her majesty, followed by her 
 attendants, left the coach, and stepping on a small point of 
 land, entered the boat, and was soon rowed to the yacht, 
 ■which lay at Gravesend waiting for her. The master, whose 
 name "was Gray, had not the slightest suspicion of the rank of 
 his royal passenger, who found Lady Strickland, with a group 
 of her other faithful servants on the deck, looking anxiously 
 out for her and the prince. Mary Beatrice was certainly 
 more fortunate in her choice of friends than her lord, for 
 there were no instances of treachery or ingratitude in her 
 household. All her ladies loved her, and were ready to share 
 her adversity, and many, from whom she required not such 
 proofs of attachment, followed her into exile. Her high 
 standard of moral rectitude had probably deterred her from 
 lavishing her favors and confidence on worthless flatterers, 
 like the vipers King James had fostered. The true-hearted 
 little company in the yacht, who had prepared themselves to 
 attend their royal mistress and her baby to France, were a 
 chosen few, to whom the secret of her departure had been 
 confided ; namely, the Lord and Lady Powis, the Countess of 
 Almonde, Signora Pelegrina Turinie, bed-chamber woman, 
 and Lady Strickland of Sizergh, sub-governess of the Prince 
 of Wales. Lady Strickland and Signora Turinie had started 
 from Whitehall after the departure of their royal mistress, 
 and performed their journey with so much speed that they 
 reached the yacht at Gravesend before her. 
 
 After a stormy and perilous voyage, the queen, her baby, 
 and attendants landed safely at Calais on Tuesday, December 
 11. Sixteen years before, Mary of Modena had embarked in 
 almost regal pomp at Calais, in the Royal Catharine yacht, a 
 virgin bride, with her mother, and a splendid retinue of Ital- 
 ian, French, and English nobles, all emulous to do her honor; 
 now she landed at the same port, a forlorn fugitive, wearing a 
 peasant's humble dress, with her royal infant in her arms, to 
 seek a refu2:e from the storm that had driven her from a 
 
1G88.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 513 
 
 throne. But was she more pitiable, as the wife of the man 
 she loved, and clasping the baby whom they both called " the 
 dearest gift of Heaven," to her fond bosom, than when she 
 sailed for an unknown land, like a victim adorned for a sacri- 
 fice, from which her soul revolted ? Then all was gloom and 
 despair in her young heart, and she wept as one for whom 
 life had no charms ; now her tears flowed chiefly because she 
 was separated from that husband, whose name had filled the 
 reluctant bride of fifteen with dismay. The reverse in her 
 fortunes as a princess, was not more remarkable than the mu- 
 tations which had taken place in her feelings as a woman. 
 The Governor of Calais would have received the fugitive 
 queen and her son with royal honors, but she begged to re- 
 main incognita. She had sent St. Victor to apprise King 
 James of her safe embarkation ; and she now wrote a touch- 
 ing letter to Louis XIV., appealing to him for sympathy and 
 protection. She proceeded on the 13th to Boulogne, where 
 she remained in agonizing suspense, awaiting tidings of her 
 royal husband. Here she received the agitating intelligence 
 of the king's ill-judged attempt to leave the realm with Sir Ed- 
 ward Hales, and that he had been stopped, robbed, and ill- 
 treated by a gang of fifty desperadoes, from whom he was 
 rescued and brought back to London, where he was most af- 
 fectionately received by the people. Mary Beatrice and the 
 little prince then advanced to Beauvais, where she received 
 the welcome tidings that King James had left England and 
 landed safely at Ambleteuse, a small port near Boulogne. 
 
 W* 
 
514 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1688. 
 
 Great Seal of Jumes II. 
 
1688.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 5I5 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In the afternoon of December 28, Mary Beatrice drew near 
 St. Germaius. Louis XIV. came in state to meet and welcome 
 her, with his son the dauphin, and the officers of his house- 
 hold : his cavalcade consisted of a hundred coaches and six. 
 He awaited the approach of his fair and royal guest at Chatou, 
 a villao-e on the banks of the Seine, below the heights of St. 
 Germains-en-Laye. As soon as her majesty's cortege drew 
 near, Louis with his son and brother descended from his coach 
 and advanced to greet her, supposing that she had been in the 
 first carriage, which he had sent his officers to stop. The ve- 
 hicle, however, only contained the Prince of Wales, his sub- 
 governess Lady Strickland, and his nurses. They all alighted 
 out of respect to the king, who took the infant prince in his 
 arms, kissed, and tenderly embraced him, and made the un- 
 conscious babe a gracious speech, promising to protect and 
 cherish him. Louis is said to have been struck with the 
 beauty of the royal infant, on whom he lavished more caresses 
 than he had ever been known to bestow on any child of his 
 own. 
 
 The queen had in the mean time alighted from her coach, 
 and was advancing toward his majesty. Louis hastened to 
 meet and salute her. She made the most graceful acknowledg- 
 ments for his sympathy and kindness, both for herself and in 
 the name of the king her husband. Louis replied, " that it 
 was a melancholy service he had rendered her on this occasion, 
 but that he hoped it would be in his power to be more useful 
 soon ;" then led her to his own coach, where he placed her at 
 his right hand. The dauphin and Duke of Orleans sat oppo- 
 site to their majesties. And thus in regal pomp was the ex- 
 iled Queen of England conducted by Louis XIV. to the pal- 
 ace of St. Germains-en-Laye, which was henceforth to be her 
 home. "When they alighted in the inner court of the palace, 
 Louis, after placing every thing there at her command, led 
 her by the hand to the apartments appropriated to the use 
 of the Prince of Wales, which were those of the children of 
 France. This nursery suite had been newly fitted up for the 
 Prince of Wales. 
 
 Her ajiartmeuts were sumptuously furnished : nothing had 
 
51G QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [16G8. 
 
 been omitted that could be of use oi" comfort to hex* ; the most 
 exquisite taste and munificence had been displayed in the 
 arrangement of her dressing-room, and especially her table. 
 Among the splendid toilet-service that courted her acceptance, 
 Mary Beatrice saw a pecidiarly elegant casket, of which Tou- 
 roUe, the king's upholsterer, presented her with the key. This 
 casket contained 6000 Louis d'ors — a delicate method devised 
 by the genei'ous monarch of France for relieving her pecunia- 
 ry embarrassments. Mary Beatrice, however, did not dis- 
 cover the gold till the next morning, for notwithstanding the 
 significant looks and gestures with which Tourolle presented 
 the key of this important casket, her heart w<is too full to 
 permit her to bestow a single thought upon it that night. 
 Overcome by all she had gone through, she was compelled to 
 keep her chamber. At six in the evening, the King of France, 
 with the dauphin and the Due de Chartres, came to pay her 
 majesty a visit. In the course of half an hour, Louis was in- 
 formed that King James II. Avas entering the chateau, on 
 which he left the queen, and hastened to greet and welcome 
 his unfortunate cousin, then conducted him to the apartment 
 of the queen, to whom he playfully presented him, with these 
 words : " Madame, I bring you a gentleman of your acquaint- 
 ance, whom you will be very glad to see." Mary Beatrice 
 uttered a cry of joy, and melted into tears ; and James aston- 
 ished the French courtiers, by clasping her to his bosom with 
 passionate demonstrations of affection before every body. For- 
 getting every restraint in the transport of beholding the fair 
 and faithful partner of his life once more, after all their perils 
 and sufferings, James remained long enfolded "in the arms of 
 his weeping queen. As soon as the first gush of feeling had a 
 little subsided, Louis led James to the apartments of the 
 Prince of Wales, and showed him that his other treasure was 
 safe, and surrounded with all the splendor to which his birth 
 entitled him. 
 
 It was the wish of Jajnes and his queen to live as private 
 persons at St. Germains, in that retirement which is always 
 desired by the afflicted, but it was not permitted. The French 
 state officers and attendants were quickly superseded by a 
 regular royal household, formed from the noble English, Scotch, 
 and Irish emigrants who followed the fortunes of the exiled 
 king and queen. The fidelity of the queen's household was 
 remarkable. It is an interesting fact that almost all her at- 
 tendants applied to the Prince of Orange for passports to fol- 
 low her into France. William granted the passes, but out- 
 lawed all who used them, and confiscated their property. 
 
1689.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 617 
 
 Whole families preferred goin.cjinto exile together, rather than 
 to transfer their allegiance to William and Mary. This gener- 
 ous spirit was by no means confined to the Roman Catholic 
 aristocracy. Instances of fidelity equally noble are recorded 
 of members of the Church of England, and even of menial 
 servants in the royal household. The queen's old coachman, 
 who had formerly served Oliver Cromwell in that capacity, 
 followed his royal mistress to St. Germains, was reinstated hi 
 his oflice, and continued to drive her state coach till he died at 
 an advanced age. Those ladies of the bed-chamber who were 
 compelled to remain in England with their husbands and fam- 
 ilies, like Lady Isabella Wentworth and Mrs. Dawson, render- 
 ed their royal mistress the most important service of all, by 
 continuing to bear true Avitness of her, when it became the 
 fashion to calumniate and revile her. They courageously con- 
 futed her slanderers, even to the faces of her supplanting step- 
 daughters. 
 
 Louis XIV. allowed James and Mary Beatrice 50,000 francs 
 per month for the support of their household. They objected 
 at first to the largeness of the sum ; but found it, in the end, 
 insufiicient to enable them to extend adequate relief to the ne- 
 cessities of their impoverished followers. At the first court held 
 by the exiled king and queen at St. Germains, James looked 
 old and worn with fixtigue and suifering. Of Mary Beatrice 
 it was said by Madame de Sevigne, " The Queen of England's 
 eyes are always tearful, but they are large, and very dark and 
 beautiful. Her complexion is clear, but somewhat pale. 
 Her mouth is too large for perfect beauty, but her lips are 
 pouting, and her teeth lovely. Her shape is fine, and she has 
 much mind. Every thing she says is marked with excellent 
 good sense." 
 
 The purple velvet and ermine in which Mary Beatrice dress- 
 ed her boy, not being the orthodox costume for babies of his 
 rank in France, excited the astonishment of the ladies of that 
 court, as we find from a remark made by Madame de Sevigne, 
 in a letter dated January 31, 1689. "Madame de Chaulnes 
 has seen the Queen of England, with whom she is much 
 pleased. The little prince, though dressed like a puppet, 
 was beautiful and joyous, leaping and dancing when they held 
 him up." He M'as then between seven and eight months old 
 — a most attractive age ; and the bracing, salubrious air of St. 
 Germains had evidently been of much service to the royal in- 
 fant, whose health was so delicate in England. 
 
 Ireland refused to accept William and Mary in preference 
 to James II., so James proceeded thither to encourage his 
 
518 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1689-1690. 
 
 party early in March, 1690 ; want of money and arms render- 
 ed the strnggle ineiFectual. Finally, he was defeated at the 
 battle of the Boyne by William's healthy, well-armed, veteran 
 troops, who, beside all other advantages, were very far snpc- 
 rior in numbers to his undisciplined, half-naked, wild Irish 
 muster. The queen had prevailed on Seignelai, the French 
 minister of marine, to equip and send a fleet into St. George's 
 Channel. Tliis fleet drove William's admiral, Herbert, and 
 his squadron out of Bantry Bay, and landed military stores 
 fur King James. D'Avaux, the French minister in attendance 
 on that prince, exultingly announced to him that the French 
 had defeated the English fleet. " It is for the first time, then," 
 retorted the royal seaman, with an irrepressible burst of na- 
 tional feeling. His- consort, however, could not refrain from 
 rejoicing in the success of the expedition which she had been 
 the cause of sending to his assistance. Another naval victory 
 was gained by the French at Beachy Head, July 1, 1690 ; but 
 the battle of the Boyne, fought on the same day, was lost by 
 James, who, withdrawing from Ireland, landed at Brest, July 
 20. From Brest he sent an express to his queen, to acquaint 
 her with his arrival there, and his misfortune, telling her at 
 the same time, " that he was sensible he should be blamed for 
 having hazarded a battle on such inequalities, but that he had 
 no other post so advantageous, and was loath to have aban- 
 doned all without a stroke." 
 
 The meeting between Mary Beatrice and her lord, who had 
 been absent from her eighteen long months, was inexpressibly 
 tender. James had the happiness of finding his son, whom he 
 had left an infant in the nurse's arms, grown a fine strong boy, 
 full of health, life, and joy, able to run about anywhere, and 
 to greet him WMth the name of fother. The beauty and ani- 
 mation of the child pleased the French, and rendered him the 
 darling of*the British emigrants. The queen gave birth to a 
 daughter three Aveeks after the death-blow had been given to 
 the hopes of King James's restoration by the destruction of 
 the French fleet ofl" La Hogue, which was prepared to make a 
 descent on England. 
 
 The morbid state of apathy in which James was plunged 
 by this calamity yielded to softer emotions when he beheld 
 the new-born princess. " See," said he to the queen, " what 
 God hath given us to be our consolation in the land of exile !" 
 Louis XIV. was godfather to the babe, and gave her the names 
 of Louisa Mary. 
 
 It was fortunate that James and his queen were fond of 
 children, and indulgent to them, for their royal abode at St. 
 
1694.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 519 
 
 Germains was full of the young families of their nobleattendants, 
 who, having forsaken houses and lands for their sake, had now 
 no other home. There were little Middletons, Hays, Dillons, 
 Bourkes, Stricklands, Plowdens, Staffords, Sheldons, and many 
 of the children of their Protestant followers also, who might be 
 seen sporting together in the parterres in excellent good-fel- 
 lowship, or forming a mimic court and body-guard for the lit- 
 tle prince, whose playmates they were, and the sharers of his 
 infantile pleasures. These juvenile Jacobites were objects of 
 thetenderest interest to the exiled king and queen, who, when 
 they went to promenade on the terrace, were always surround- 
 ed by them, and appeared like the parents of a very numer- 
 ous progeny. The chateau, indeed, resembled an overcrowded 
 bee-hive, only that the young swarms were fondly cherished, 
 instead of being driven forth into the world. Other emigrants 
 there were, for whom the king and queen could do but little 
 in proportion to their wants. The town of St. Germains and 
 its suburbs were filled with Scotch, English, and Irish Jacob- 
 ite families, who had sacrificed every thing in their fruitless 
 efforts for the restoration of King James, and were, for the 
 most part, in a state of utter destitution. The patience with 
 Avhich they bore the sufferings they had incurred for his sake, 
 pierced the heart of that unfortunate prince with the most 
 poignant grief. Both he and Mary Beatrice imposed rigorous 
 self-denial on themselves, in order to administer to the wants 
 of their followers. 
 
 The little prince and his sister, as soon as they were old 
 enough to understand the sufferings of the Jacobite families, 
 devoted all their pocket-money to their relief The princess, 
 from a very tender age, paid for the education of several of 
 the daughters of the British emigrants, and nothing could in- 
 duce her to diminish her little fund by the purchase of toys 
 for herself. Her natural vivacity was softened and subdued 
 by the sense of sorrow and distress amid which she was born 
 and reared ; and while yet an infant in age, she acquired the 
 sensibility and tenderness of womanhood. 
 
 The news of the death of James's eldest daughter. Queen 
 Mary H., reached St. Germains, January 15, and revived the 
 drooping hopes of the anxious exiles there. James, however, 
 felt much grief that she had not expressed a penitential feehng 
 for her unfilial conduct toward himself. It was expected that 
 an immediate rupture would take place between William and 
 Anne, on account of his retaining the crown, to which she 
 stood in a nearer degree of relationship ; but Anne was too 
 cunning to raise such disputes while she had a father and a 
 
520 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1701. 
 
 brother living. Her claims, as well as those of Williaui, rest- 
 ed solely on the will of the people. 
 
 The exhausted state of the French finances compelled Louis 
 XIV. to sign the peace of Ryswich, recognizing William III.'s 
 title as King of Great Britain, and promising to desist from as- 
 sisting James and his family; but he would not consent to 
 deprive them of their asylum at St. Germains. By one of the 
 secret articles of that treaty, William engaged to adopt the 
 son of James II. as his successor ; but James and Mary Bea- 
 trice both declared they would sooner see their son dead than 
 rendered a political tool by William. James's sands were now 
 waning fast. While he and the queen were attending Di- 
 vine service in the royal chapel at St. Germains on Friday, 
 March 4, IVOI — the anthem for that day was from the Lamen- 
 tations of Jeremiah, " Remember, O Lord, what is come upon 
 us ; consider, and behold our reproach. Our inheritance is 
 turned to sti'angers, our houses to aliens." These words, so 
 applicable to his own case, touched too powerful a chord in 
 the mind of the fallen monarch. His enfeebled frame was un- 
 able to support the climax of agonizing associations which 
 they recalled ; a torrent of blood gushed from his mouth and 
 nose ; he fainted, and was carried out of the chapel in a state 
 of insensibility. A report of his death was generally circula- 
 ted. The terror and distress of the poor queen may readily be 
 imagined ; but she had acquired, during long years of adver- 
 sity, that needful virtue of the patient heroine of domestic life 
 — the power of controlling her own feelings. 
 
 This attack of apoplexy was followed by paralysis ; and the 
 physicians ordered him to the baths of Bourbon. The anguish 
 of the poor queen was increased by the misery of pecuniary 
 distress at this anxious period. Having no funds for the 
 journey, she was compelled to appeal to Louis XIV. for a 
 charitable supply. They desired but 30,000 livres of the 
 French court for this journey, which was immediately sent 
 them in gold. King James, who was fully aware that he was 
 hastening to the tomb, was only induced to undertake the jour- 
 ney by the tender importunity of his queen. 
 
 During her anxious attendance on her sick consort at Bour- 
 bon, Mary Beatrice, from time to time, sent messengers to St. 
 Germains, to inquire after the health and welfare of her chil- 
 dren, who remained there under the care of the Duke of Perth 
 and the Countess of Middleton. Very constant and dutiful 
 had the prince and his little sister been in their correspondence 
 with their royal parents at this period of unwonted separation. 
 A packet of their simple little letters to the queen is still pre- 
 
1701.] MARY BEATRICE OF MOPENA. 521 
 
 served, among more important documents of the exiled Stuarts, 
 in the archives of France, containing interesting evidence of 
 the strong ties of natural affection by which the hearts of this 
 unfortunate family were entwined together. Mary Beatrice 
 and James arrived at St. Germains in time for the celebration 
 of the birthday fetes of their son and daughter. The prince 
 completed his thirteenth year on the 10th of June, and the 
 princess her ninth on the 28th of the same month. 
 
 King James continued to linger through the summer, and 
 was occasionally strong enough to mount his horse. Mary 
 Beatrice began to flatter herself with hopes of his recovery ; 
 and weary as he was of the turmoil of the world, there were 
 yet strong ties to bind him to an existence that was endeared 
 by the affection of a partner who, crushed as he was with sor- 
 row, sickness, and infirmity, continued after a union of nearly 
 eight-and twenty years, to love him M'ith the same impassion- 
 ed fondness as in the first years of their marriage. It was 
 hard to part with her and their children — the lovely, promis- 
 ing, and dutiful children of his old age, whom nature had ap- 
 parently well qualified to adorn that station of which his rash 
 and ill-advised proceedings had been the means of depriving 
 them. A political crisis of great importance appeared to be 
 at hand. The days of his rival, William III., were numbered 
 as well as his own ; both were laboring under incurable mala- 
 dies. The race of life, even then, was closely matched between 
 them ; and if James ever desired a lengthened existence, it 
 was that, for the sake of his son, he might survive William, 
 fancying — fond delusion ! — that his daughter Anne would not 
 contest the throne with him. 
 
 James's death was hastened by a recurrence of the same in- 
 cident which had caused his first severe stroke of apoplexy in 
 the preceding spring. On Friday, September 2, Avhile he was 
 at mass in the chapel royal, the choir unfortunately sang the 
 fatal anthem again, " Lord, remember what is come upon us ; 
 consider, and behold our reproach," etc. The same agonizing 
 chord was touched as on the former occasion, with a similar 
 eflect. He sank into the arms of the queen in a swoon, and 
 was carried from the chapel to his chamber in a state of in- 
 sensibility. After a time suspended animation was restored, 
 but the fit returned upon him with greater violence. " A 
 most afflicting sight for his disconsolate queen, into whose 
 arms he fell the second time." Mary Beatrice had acquired 
 sufficient firmness in the path of duty to be able to control 
 her o^vn agonies on this occasion, for the sake of the beloved 
 object of her solicitude. She could not deceive herself as to 
 
522 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1701. 
 
 the mournful truth wliich the looks of all around her pro- 
 claimed ; and her own sad heart assured her that the dreaded 
 moment of separation betwe'en them was at hand. 
 
 James himself was calm and composed, and as soon as the 
 hemorrhage could be stopped, expressed a wish to receive the 
 last rites of his Church, but said he would see his children first, 
 and sent for his son. The young prince, when he entered the 
 chamber and saw the pale, death-like countenance of his father, 
 and the bed all covered with blood, gave way to a passionate 
 burst of grief, in which every one else joined except the dying 
 king, who appeared perfectly serene. When the prince ap- 
 proached the bed he extended his arms to embrace him, and 
 addressed his last admonition to him in these impressive 
 words, which, notwithstanding the weakness and exhaustion 
 of sinking nature, were uttered with a fervor and a solemnity 
 that astonished everyone: "I am now leaving this world, 
 which has been to me a sea of storms and tempests, it being 
 God Almighty's will to wean me from it by many great afflic- 
 tions. Serve Him with all your power, and never put the 
 crown of England in competition with your eternal salvation. 
 There is no slavery like sin, no liberty like His service. If His 
 holy providence shall think fit to seat you on the throne of 
 your royal ancestors, govern your people with justice and 
 clemency. Remember, kings are not made for themselves, 
 but for the good of the people. Set before their eyes, in your 
 own actions, a pattern of all manner of virtues: consider them 
 as your children. Honor your mother, that your days may be 
 long; and be always a kind brother to your dear sister, that 
 you may reap tlie blessings of concord and unity." Those 
 who were about the king, apprehending that the excitement 
 of continuing to speak long and earnestly on subjects of so 
 agitating a nature would be too much for his exhausted frame, 
 suggested that the prince had better now withdraw ; at which 
 his majesty was troubled, and said, "Do not take my son away 
 from me till I have given him my blessing, at least." The lit- 
 tle Princess Louisa was brought to the bedside of her dying 
 father, bathed in tears, to receive, in her turn, all that Heaven 
 had left in the power of the unfortunate James to bestow on 
 his children by Mary Beatrice — his paternal benediction and 
 advice. It was, perhaps, a harder trial for James to part with 
 this daughter than with his son ; she was the child of his old 
 age, the joy of his dark and wintry years. He had named her 
 la Consolatrice when he first looked upon her, and she had, 
 even when in her nurse's arms, manifested an extraordinary 
 affection for him. She was one of the most beautiful children 
 
1701.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 523 
 
 in the world, and her abilities were of a much higher order 
 than those of her brother. Reflective and intelligent beyond 
 her tender years, her passionate sorrow showed liow deeply 
 she was touched by the sad state in which she saw her royal 
 father, and that she comprehended only too well the calamity 
 that impended over her. " Adieu, ray dear child," said James, 
 after he had embraced and blessed her, "adieu! Serve your 
 Creator in the days of your youth : consider virtue as the 
 greatest ornament of your sex. Follow close the steps of that 
 great pattern of it, your mother, who has been, no less than 
 myself, overclouded with calumnies ; but Time, the mother of 
 Truth, will, I hope, at last make her virtues shine as bright as 
 the sun." All this while the poor queen, who had never quit- 
 ted him for a moment, being unable to support herself, had 
 sunk down upon the ground by his bedside, in much greater 
 anguish than he, and with almost as little signs of life. 
 James was sensibly touched to see her in such excessive grief. 
 He tried all he could to comfort and persuade her to resign 
 herself to the will of God, in this as in all her other trials ; but 
 none liad appeared to Mary Beatrice so hard as this. 
 
 A visit from Louis XIV. compelled her to rouse herself 
 from the indulgence of her grief. Ho came to take a last 
 farewell of his unfortunate cousin. King James, and to offer 
 the afllicted queen the only consolation she was capable of re- 
 ceiving, by assuring her he would acknowledge the prince, 
 her son, as rightful King of Great Britain. She begged hira 
 to tell her dying consort this with his own lips. 
 
 King James expired at three o'clock in the afternoon of 
 September 6, 1701 ; he died with a smile on his countenance. 
 The bitterness of death had long been passed, and he had re- 
 quested that his chamber-door might be left without being 
 guarded, so that all who wished to take a last look of him 
 might freely enter. His apartments Avere crowded both with 
 English and French, of all degrees, and his curtains were al- 
 Avays open. " The moment after he had breathed his last, 
 his son was proclaimed at the gates of the chateau of St. Ger- 
 mains by the title of James III., King of England, Scotland, 
 Ireland, and France^'' 
 
 When the royal widow came, in compliance with the cere- 
 monial which their respective positions prescribed, to oifer the 
 homage of a subject to her boy, she said to him, " Sir, I ac- 
 knowledge you for my king, but I hope you will not forget 
 that you are my son ;" and then, wholly overpowered by 
 grief, she was carried in a chair from the apartment, and so 
 conveyed to her coach, which was ready to take her to the 
 
g24 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1701. 
 
 convent at Chaillot, where she desired to pass the first days 
 of her widowhood in the deepest retirement, declaring that 
 she would neither receive visits nor compliments from any 
 one. 
 
 Autograph of James II. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Mary Beatrice left St. Germains about an hour after her 
 liusband's death, attended by four ladies only, and arrived at 
 Chaillot a quarter before six. The conventual church of 
 Chaillot was hung with black. As soon as her approach was 
 announced the bells tolled, and the abbess and all the Commu- 
 nity went in procession to receive her at the convent-gate. 
 The widowed queen descended from her coach in silence, 
 with her hood drawn over her face, followed by her four no- 
 ble attendants. The nuns gathered round her in silence ; no 
 one oifered to speak comfort to her, well knowing how tender 
 had been the union that had subsisted between her and her 
 deceased lord. The tragedy of real life, unlike that of the 
 stage, is generally a veiled feeling. The queen remained in 
 this stupefaction of grief till the beloved Fran9oise Angelique 
 Priolo " approached, and kissing her hand, said to her, in a 
 tone of tender admonition, in the Avords of the royal Psalmist, 
 ' My soul, will you not be subject to God ?' ' Thy will bo 
 done,' replied Mary Beatrice, in a voice stifled with sighs." 
 
 James II. had desired, on his death-bed, to be simply inter- 
 red in the Church of St. Germains, opposite to the chateau ; 
 but when his will was opened, it was found that he had there- 
 in directed his body to be buried with his ancestors in West- 
 minster Abbey. Therefore the queen resolved that his obse- 
 quies only should be solemnized in France, and that his body 
 should remain unburied till the restoration of his son, which 
 she fondly hoped would take place ; and that, like the bones 
 of Joseph in holy writ, the corpse of her royal husband 
 
1701.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 625 
 
 would accompany his children when they returned to the 
 land of their ancestors. The body was destined to await this 
 expected event in the Church of the Benedictines, Faubourg 
 de St. Jacques, Paris, whither it was conveyed on the Saturday 
 after his demise, about seven in the evening, in a mourning- 
 carriage, followed by two coaches, in which were the officers 
 of the king's household, his chaplains, and the prior and cu- 
 rate of St. Germains. His guard carried torches of white 
 Avax around the hearse. The obsequies being duly perform- 
 ed in the convent church of the Benedictines, the body was 
 left under the hearse, covered with the pall, in one of the 
 chapels. 
 
 On the third day after her arrival, being Monday, Mary 
 Beatrice assumed the habit of a widow ; " and while they 
 were thus arraying her," continues our good nun, " her maj- 
 esty, observing that I was trying to look through her eyes 
 into her soul, to see what effect this dismal dress had on her 
 mind, assured me ' that those lugubrious trappings gave her 
 no pain, because they were in unison with her own feelings, 
 and that it would have been very distressing to herself to 
 have dressed otherwise, or, indeed, ever to change that garb. 
 For the rest of my life,' said her majesty, ' I shall never wear 
 any thing but black. I have long ago renounced all vanities, 
 and worn nothing, in the way of dress, but what was abso- 
 lutely necessary ; and God knows that I have not put on dec- 
 orations except in cases where I was compelled to do so, or in 
 my early youth.' " When the melancholy toilet of Mary Bea- 
 trice was fully completed, and she was dressed for the first 
 time in widow's weeds, she seated herself in a fauteuil, and 
 all the ladies in the convent were permitted to enter, to offer 
 her their homage and condolences. But every one was in 
 tears, and not a word Avas spoken ; for the queen sat silent 
 and motionless as a statue, with her eyes fixed on vacancy, ap- 
 parently too much absorbed in her own unspeakable grief to 
 be conscious of any thing. 
 
 By virtue of this will, the only one ever made by James II., 
 Mary Beatrice was recognized by the court and council of her 
 deceased lord at St. Germains as the acting guardian of the 
 prince their son, and took upon herself the title of queen- 
 regent of Great Britain. She was treated by Louis XIV. and 
 his ministers with the same state and ceremony as if she had 
 been invested with this ofiice in the only legal way — by the 
 Parliament of the realm. The first care of this widoAved 
 queen was to obey one of the death-bed injunctions of her 
 deceased consort, by writing to his daughter, the Princess 
 
5'26 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1702. 
 
 Anne of Denmark, to communicate his last commands touch- 
 ing the jniiice his son. 
 
 King WilHam put himself, his servants, and equipages into 
 mourning for King James ; but caused a bill to be brought 
 into the House of Commons for attainting the orphan son of 
 that uncle, for whom he and his household had assumed the 
 mockery of woe. The boy was but thirteen when thus ex- 
 posed to the penalty of being executed without a trial, or any 
 other ceremony than a privy-seal warrant, in the event of his 
 tailing into the hands of the reigning sovereign. This was 
 not enough to satisfy King William III.; his next attempt was 
 to subject the widowed mother of the disinherited prince to 
 the same pains and" penalties. 
 
 The commons had stoutly refused to pass the attainder of 
 the widow of their old master as an additional clause to that 
 of the unfortunate young prince her son ; and it is to be regret- 
 ted that no clerk or reporter was hardy enough to risk the loss 
 of his ears by taking notes of the stormy debates, which shook 
 the house, on a question so opposed to every principle of the 
 English constitution as that of an illegal attempt of the king 
 against a royal lady, of whom no other crime had ever been 
 alleged than the faithful pi-eformance of her duties toward a 
 deposed consort and disinherited son — duties from which no 
 reverse of fortune could absolve a wife and mother, and least 
 of all a queen. On the 1st of February, this desolate princess 
 writes to her spiritual friend at Chaillot — " I will try to lift 
 up my heart, which is in truth much depressed, and well-nigh 
 broken." In conclusion, she says, " The news from England is 
 very strange. God must be entreated for them, since, literal- 
 ly, they know not what they do." The meekness of this com- 
 ment on the vindictive proceedings of her foes appears the 
 more touching, from the circumstance of its having been 
 penned the very day before the bill for the separate attainder 
 of the royal writer was read for the first time in the House 
 of Lords, February 12, o. s. From a refinement of malice, she 
 is designated in that instrument, "Mary, late loife of the late 
 Kmg James." The title of queen-dowager was, of course, 
 denied her by the sovereign who had appropriated her dower, 
 and whose design it was to deprive her also of the reverence 
 attached to royalty. The " widow" of the late King James 
 he dared not call her, for there was something touching in 
 that description : it came too close to her sad case, and in six 
 simple words told the story of her past greatness and her 
 present calamities Avilh irresistible pathos. They had attaint- 
 ed a boy of thirteen, " the only son of bis mother, and she was 
 
1702-1705.] MAEY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 527 
 
 a widow," and had been their queen ; and they, the peers of 
 England, were required to attaint her also, but not by her 
 true description — not as Mary the widow, but as " Mary the 
 late wife of the late King James ;" the violation of the English 
 language in this subtle definition being less remarkable, con- 
 sidering that the measure originated with a Dutchman, than 
 the profound observation of the susceptibilities of the human 
 heart which it denotes, and the careful avoidance of the use 
 of epithets calculated to inspire reverence or compassion. 
 
 The question was finally put, for the third time, .on the 20th 
 of February in the House of Lords ; it was carried in the affirm- 
 ative. The commons, when the bill was sent down to them, 
 treated it with ineffiible contempt : they did not so much as 
 put it to the question, but throwing it under their table, con- 
 signed it to oblivion. 
 
 Mary Beatrice, overwhelmed Avith the difficulties and per- 
 plexities of her position, was attacked with a dangerous illness 
 just before the death of William, which brought her to the 
 verge of the grave. Her life depended on her being kept quiet, 
 on account of the violent palpitations of the heart, and other 
 alarming symptoms with which her illness w\as accompanied. 
 Her cabinet, torn with conflicting jealousies and passions, could 
 agree on nothing, so of course nothing was done ; and before 
 she was in a state to decide between the opposing counsels of 
 the rival ministers, Middleton and Perth, her step-daughter 
 Anne was peacefully settled on the throne, and the hopes of 
 royalty were forever lost to her son and his descendants. 
 
 It was about this period that the dreadful malady, which 
 had appeared a few months before King James's death, began 
 to assume a painful and alarming form. When her majesty 
 consulted the celebrated Fagan on her case, and entreated 
 him to tell her the truth, without reserve, he frankly acknowl- 
 edged that the cancer was incurable ; but assured her, at the 
 same time, that her existence might be prolonged for many 
 years, if she would submit to a series of painful operations, 
 and adhere strictly to the regimen he would prescribe. 
 
 A violent illness attacked her son at the opening of the 
 year 1705, and drew her attention from her own suftei'ings to 
 his danger. No one but the most tenderly devoted of moth- 
 ers could have desired the life of a male claimant of the 
 crown of England to be prolonged, whose existence alone pre- 
 vented the amicable arrangement of all disputes and difficul- 
 ties, by the recognition of her daughter, the Princess Louisa, 
 as the successor of Queen Anne. No jealousies could have 
 been entertained by that sovereign of rivalry from a younger 
 
528 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1705. 
 
 sister ; and all national fears for the interests of the Church 
 of England might have been obviated by a marriage with the 
 hereditary Prince of Hanover — a measure that could not even 
 be proposed during the life of her brother. As regarded the 
 succession to the throne of England, the Princess Louisa lay 
 under no disabilities ; neither acts of attainder nor oaths of 
 abjuration had passed against her ; and if the personal ex- 
 istence of this youngest and most promising scion of the 
 Stuart line had never been publicly noticed by contending 
 parties, it was, perhaps, because her political importance was 
 secretly felt by the subtle calculators who were aware of the 
 delicacy of her brother's constitution, and the yearning of the 
 childless Anne toward a successor of her own name and 
 blood. The death of the unfortunate son of James II. at that 
 epoch would have excited a general feeling of sympathy for 
 his mother and sister ; the stumbling-stone of offense would 
 have been removed, and all fears of civil wars averted, by re- 
 storing the regal succession to the regular order. 
 
 The unexpected recovery of the prince took place just be- 
 fore he completed his seventeenth year, June 10. The Prin- 
 cess Louisa attained her thii'teenth birthday June 28 ; she had 
 inherited all her mother's beauty ; and was now publicly in- 
 troduced at the French court, where, as the daughter of a 
 King and Queen of England, and sister to a prince whose title 
 to the crown of that realm was supported by France, she was 
 given precedence over every lady there, except her own moth- 
 er, who always had the place of honor allowed her by Louis 
 XIV. A grand ball at Marli, in July, 1705, Avas given by the 
 King of France. At the upper end of the long spacious saloon 
 in which the ball took place, three fcmteuils were placed. 
 Mary Beatrice, as in the life-time of her royal consort, occu- 
 pied the middle seat ; those of Louis XIV. and her son were 
 on each side. Opposite to them were benches for the dan- 
 cers ; the other members of the royal family occupied pliants. 
 Behind the royal dais were the refreshments. The titular 
 King of England opened the ball with his sister, and the King 
 of France stood all the time they were dancing. This he al- 
 ways would have done every time this young royal pair 
 danced together, if Mary Beatrice had not entreated him to 
 be seated ; but it was not till he had paid them this mark of 
 respect twice or thrice, that he would consent to sit down. 
 Mary Beatrice always sat between Louis and her son at sup- 
 per, with her daughter and the immediate members of the 
 royal family of France. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the cares and pecuniary disappoint- 
 
1705.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 529 
 
 ments that at times oppressed the exiled queen, her family, 
 and faithful followers, they lead a pleasant life in summer- 
 time. Sometimes the prince and his sister led their young 
 court into the depths of the adjacent forest in quest of sylvan 
 sports, or to gather flowers and wild strawberries ; sometimes 
 embarking on the calm waters of the Seine in their barge, 
 which, if not very splendidly decorated, or of the most ap- 
 proved fashion, Avas large enough to accommodate a joyous 
 party. The haven to which the voyagers were usually bound 
 was a rural chateau on the Seine, within less than a league 
 from the palace. It belonged to the Countess de Grammont, 
 formerly one of the most celebrated of the beauties of Charles 
 II.'s court. She was now a rich and prosperous lady, able to 
 provide entertainments of all descriptions for the royal broth- 
 er and sister, whom she had seen grow up from infants. 
 She had obtained a grant of the old mill-house of St. Ger- 
 raains and its adjacent meadows, and had expended some of 
 her wealth in turning it into a Grecian villa ; and there she 
 frequently received the exiles of St. Germains in the course of 
 the summer. 
 
 X 
 
*80 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1708. 
 
1708-1709.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 531 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The frolic and the fuu that, in spite of cave and penary, 
 now and then enlivened the exiled court of St. Germaius, were 
 suddenly sobered by a change in the politics of Versailles. 
 After trifling with the queen and her council, and above all with 
 their faithful adherents in Scotland during the momentous 
 crisis of the Union, when even the semblance of support from 
 France would have been followed by a general rising in favor 
 of the son of James II., Louis XIV. determined, in the spring 
 of 1708, to fit out a fleet and armament for the purpose of 
 effecting a descent on the coast of Scotland, headed by that 
 prince in person. This expedition had been kept so secret 
 that neither Mary Beatrice nor her sou was aware of what 
 was intended, till the latter received a hasty summons to join 
 the armament. The young prince tarried not for prepara- 
 tions, but bidding his mother and sister a hasty farewell, de- 
 parted for Dunkirk, leaving his baggage to follow. Unfortu- 
 nate in every thing, he had scarcely reached the coast when 
 he was attacked with the measles. Every one knows the nature 
 of that malady, which requires the patient to be kept in an 
 equal temperature till after the third day. Aware of the ne- 
 cessity of acting with promptitude, he caused himself to be 
 carried on board the French fleet, before prudence wai-rant- 
 ed him in quitting his chamber. 
 
 The feelings of his mother during that anxious period of 
 suspense will be best described by herself, in her confidential 
 letter to one of her Angeliques. She says, " I must take pa- 
 tience in this, as in many other things which disquiet me at 
 present, and keep me in a state of great agitation ; for I know 
 nothing certain of my son. My only consolation is the thought 
 that he is in the hands of God." 
 
 Queen Anne's cabinet proceeded to set a price on the head 
 of the exiled prince her brother. Anne herself, who had hith- 
 erto styled him " the pretended Prince of Wales," now gave 
 him a new name in her address to Parliament, calling him, for 
 the first time, "the Pretender" — a cunningly-devised sobriquet, 
 which, perhaps, did more to exclude him from the throne than 
 even his unpopular religion. The young prince served in the 
 French army in the Low Countries the same spring as a vol- 
 unteer, under the appropriate title of the Chevalier de St. 
 
632 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1709. 
 
 Geoi'ge ; for, being destitute of the means of providing a camp 
 equipage, to say nothing of maintaining the state consistent 
 with royalty, he claimed no higher distinction than the com- 
 panionship of the national order, with which he had been in- 
 vested, iu his fourth year, by the late sovereign his father. 
 He conducted himself during the campaign so well as to win 
 the aftection and esteem of his comrades. While her son was 
 with the army, Mary Beatrice was, of course, deeply interested 
 in all the military operations, of which he sent her a regular 
 account. 
 
 The chevalier caught the malignant intermittent fever of the 
 country at Mons, and returned, greatly enfeebled, for change 
 of air to St. Germains toward the close of the summer. It was 
 a wet cold autumn, severe winter, and ungenial spring; the 
 queen was ill, anxious, and unhappy, on account of her son, 
 for the fever hung upon him for many months ; yet he was 
 firm in his determination to try his fortunes iu another cam- 
 paign. 
 
 The desolate heart of Mary Beatrice swelled with maternal 
 pride in the midst of her solicitude ; for her son had distin- 
 guished himself by a brilliant personal action in the fiercely- 
 contested battle of Malpaquet which had nearly turned the 
 fortunes of the day. After -Mareschal Villars was carried 
 dangerously wounded out of the field, Boitflers sustained the 
 conflict ; and when the cavalry of the allies broke into his 
 lines, he ordered the Chevalier de St. George to advance at 
 the head of 1200 of the horse-guards. The princely volunteer 
 performed this duty so gallantly, that in one desperate charge 
 the German horse were broken and repulsed, and nothing but 
 the steady valor of the English troops, and the consummate 
 skill of their commanders, prevented the rout from becoming 
 general. The rejected claimant of the British crown did not 
 disgrace his lineage on that occasion, though unhappily serving 
 beneath the banner of the fleur-de-lis, and apposed to his own 
 countrymen. He charged twelve times at the head of the 
 household troops of France ; and though wounded in the right 
 arm by a sabre cut, he kept the ground manfully, under a 
 continuous tire of six hours from the British infantry. The 
 queen, who had been residing for many weeks in complete re- 
 tii'ement with her daughter at Chaillot, came to welcome her 
 son on his return to St. Germains, where they kept their united 
 court, if such it might be called, that winter. 
 
 The pure, unselfish affection which united the disinherited 
 son and daughter of James H. and his queen in exile and pov- 
 erty, affords a remarkable contrast to the political jealousies 
 
1712.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 533 
 
 and angry passions which inflamed the hearts of their triumph- 
 ant sisters, Mary and Anne, against each other, when they had 
 succeeded in driving their father from his throne, and sup- 
 planting their brother in the regal succession. Mary Beatrice 
 always trembled lest her daughter, the Princess Louisa, should 
 be induced to listen to the flattering insinuations of persons in 
 her court, who scrupled not to say that nature had fitted her 
 better for a throne than her brother. 
 
 Mary Beatrice had always placed great reliance on the 
 friendship testified by the Duke of Burgundy (then dauphin) 
 and his lovely consort, the well-known Duchess of Burgundy, 
 for her and her children, but the " arm of flesh" was not to 
 profit them. This princess was attacked with malignant pur- 
 ple fever on the 6th of February. Fatal symptoms appeared 
 on the 9th; on the 11th her life was despaired of, and they 
 forced her distracted husband from her bedside, to breathe the 
 fresh air in the gardens at Versailles. Mary Beatrice, ever fear- 
 less of infection for herself, hastened to Versailles, but was not 
 permitted to enter the chamber of her dying friend. She sat 
 with the king and Madame de Maintenon in the room adjoin- 
 ing to the chamber of death, while the services of her Church 
 were administered, and remained there all that sad night. The 
 dauphiness-duchess of Burgundy expired on the 11th of Feb- 
 ruary ; the afilicted widower only survived her six days. The 
 inscrutable fiat which, at one blow, desolated the royal house 
 of France, and deprived a mighty empire a second time of its 
 heir, involved also the ultimate destruction of the hopes of the 
 kindred family of Stuart. The fast-waning sands of Louis 
 XIV., now sinking under the weight of years and afilictions, 
 were rudely shaken by this domestic calamity, which was im- 
 mediately followed by the death of the eldest son of the young 
 pair, leaving the majesty of France to be represented, in less 
 than three years, by a feeble infant, and its power to be exer- 
 cised by the profligate and selfish regent, Orleans. 
 
 The portentous shadows with which these tragic events had 
 darkened the political horizon of her son, aflected Mary Bea- 
 trice less than the awful lesson on the uncertainty of life, and 
 the vanity of earthly expectation, which the sudden death of 
 these illustrious persons, snatched away in the flower of youth 
 and high and glorious anticipation, was calculated to impress. 
 The melancholy forebodings of the royal widow, who regard- 
 ed their deaths as a warning to put her own house in order, 
 since she had wept with Louis XIV. thrice in a few brief 
 days over the stricken hopes of gay Versailles, were doomed 
 to be too sadly realized, but not, as she had imagined, on her- 
 
534 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1712. 
 
 self. She, the weary pilgrim who had traveled over nearly 
 half a century of woe, and had carried in her mortal frame for 
 the last twelve years the seeds of death, was spared to weep 
 over the early grave of her bright and beautiful Louisa. 
 
 The Chevalier de St. George, who had been hunting in the 
 Bois de Boulogne, came March 30 to see the queen at Chaillot. 
 He appeared a little indisposed that day, but returned to St. 
 Germains in the evening, with her and the princess. Two 
 days afterward he was attacked with the small-pox, to the in- 
 expressible dismay of his mother, who knew how fatal that 
 dreadful malady had, in many instances, proved to the royal 
 house of Stuart. The Princess Louisa was inconsolable at the 
 idea of her brother's danger, but felt not the slightest appre- 
 hension of infection for herself. Unmistakable tokens of the 
 direful malady appeared visibly on her, April 10, while she 
 was at her toilet. Unfortunately, the practice of bleeding in 
 the foot was resorted to in her case, and the effects were fatal. 
 
 After the duties enjoined by their Church for the sick had 
 been performed, Mary Beatrice came to her dying child, and 
 asked her how she felt. " Madame," replied the princess, 
 *' you see before you the happiest person in the world. I re- 
 sign myself into the hands of God ; I ask not of Him life, but 
 that His will may be accomplished on me." — " My daughter," 
 replied the queen, "I do not think I can say as much. I de- 
 clai-e that I entreat of God to prolong your life, that you may 
 be able to serve Him, and to love him better than you have 
 yet done." — " If I desire to live, it is for that alone," respond- 
 ed the princess, fervently. But the tenderness of earthly af- 
 fections came over the heavenward spirit, and she added, 
 " and because I think I might be of some comfort to you." 
 At five o'clock the next morning, Monday, April 18, they told 
 the queen that the princess was in her agony, but prevented 
 by force the anxious mother from hastening to her side. The 
 princess expired at nine. Bitter as the trial was, Mary Bea- 
 trice bore it with the resignation of a Christian mother, who 
 believes that the child of her hopes and prayers has been sum- 
 moned to a brighter and better world. The prince her son 
 was still dangerously ill. Grief for the departed, and trem- 
 bling apprehension for the last surviving object of maternal love 
 .and care, brought on an attack of fever, which confined her to 
 her bed for several days. 
 
 When her son ultimately recovered, Mary Beatrice received 
 visits of sympathy from Louis XIV. and Madame de Mainte- 
 non. The latter says, in one of her letters, " I had the honor 
 of passing two hours with the Queen of England : she looks 
 
1712.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 535 
 
 the very image of desolation. Her daughter had become her 
 friend and cliief comfort. The French at St. Germains are as 
 disconsoLate for her loss as the English ; and, indeed, all who 
 knew her loved her most sincerely. She was truly cheerful, 
 affable, and anxious to please, attached to her duties, and ful- 
 hlling them all without a murmur." It is not always in the 
 power of an historian to raise the veil that has hidden the 
 treasured grief of a royal mother's heart from the world, and 
 after nearly a century and a half have passed away since the 
 agonizing pulses of that afflicted heart have been at rest, and 
 its pangs forgotten, to place the simple record of her feelings 
 before succeeding generations in her own pathetic words — she 
 shall speak for herself Her letter is to the Abbess Angel- 
 ique : 
 
 " But what shall I say to you of that beloved daughter whom 
 God gave to me, and hath now taken away ? Nothing be- 
 yond this, that, since it is He who hath done it, it becomes me 
 to be silent, and not to open my mouth unless to bless His holy 
 name. He is the master, both of the mother and the children ; 
 He has taken the one and left the other ; and I ought not to 
 doubt that he has done the best for both, and for me also, if I 
 knew how to profit by it. Behold the point, for, alas ! I nei- 
 ther do as I say, nor as God requu-es of me, in regard to His 
 dealings with me." 
 
 The hapless widow of James II. adverts, in the next place, 
 to another bitter trial which she knew was in store for her — 
 that of parting with her son, now her only surviving child. 
 Ever since the commencement of the negotiations for the peace 
 between England and France, it had been intimated to the 
 Chevalier de St. George that it was necessary he should with- 
 draw from St. Germains, in the first instance, and finally from 
 the French dominions. 
 
 When Mary Beatrice visited Louis XIV. at Marli, for the 
 first time after the death of her daughter, the heartless cere- 
 monials of state etiquette were alike forgotten by each, and 
 they wept together in the fellowship of mutual grief, " be- 
 cause," as the disconsolate mother afterward said, when speak- 
 ing of the tears they shed at this mournful interview, " we saw 
 that the aged were left, and death had swept away the young." 
 All the pleasure, all the happiness of the court of Versailles 
 expired with the young dauphin and dauphiness: the death 
 of the Princess Louisa completed the desolation of that of the 
 exiled Stuarts. 
 
 It was not till the 28th of July that Mary Beatrice could 
 summon up sufficient resolution to visit her friends at Chnillot ; 
 
C3G QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1713. 
 
 the siglit of the mius who had been accustomed to wait on her 
 and the Princess Louisa during their long sojourn in the con- 
 vent in the preceding year renewed her anguish. She uttered 
 a bitter cry, and exclaimed — " Oh ! but this visit is different 
 from my last. But God is the master : it is He who hath 
 done it, and His holy name be forever blessed." When she 
 entered, she sat down by the Princess de Conde, who had 
 come, like herself, to assist at the profession of a nun. She aft- 
 erward insisted on visiting the tribune, where the heart of 
 her lost darling was now enshrined, beside that of her lament- 
 ed lord. King James. The sight of those mournful relics, thus 
 united, renewed all her agonies, and it was with difficulty that 
 the nuns could draw her from the spot. AVhen she was at 
 last induced to return to her apartment, the Princess de Conde 
 endeavored to persuade her to take her tea ; but her grief so 
 entirely choked her, that she could not swallow, and sickened 
 at each attempt. 
 
 A fresh trial awaited her, even that of parting with her son, 
 Louis XIV. having engaged, by the peace of Utrecht, to ban- 
 ish him from France. Mary Beatrice spent the melancholy 
 winter of 1713 — the first she had passed without her children 
 — at St. Germains. Her only comfort was hearing from her 
 son that he had been honorably and affectionately received at 
 the court of Lorraine by the duke and duchess, who were both 
 related to him. The Duchess of liorraine, being the daughter 
 of the late Duke of Orleans by Elizabeth Charlotte of Bavaria, 
 inherited a portion of the Stuart blood, through her descent 
 from James I. She took the most lively interest in her exiled 
 kinsman, and did every thing in her power to render his so- 
 journ at Bar-Ie-duc agreeable. 
 
 Mary Beatrice said she could not think without pain that 
 the time of her departure from the convent drew near, and 
 that she must return to St. Germains, to that melancholy and 
 now desolate palace. Her tears began to flow as she spoke 
 of the loneliness that awaited her there. " Alas !" said she, 
 " picture to yourselves the state in which I shall find myself 
 in that place where I lost the king, my lord and husband, and 
 my daughter. Now that I am deprived of my son, what a 
 frightful solitude does it appear !" She remained at Chaillot, 
 in a great state of dejection, after the departure of her son. 
 She spoke with lively satisfoction of having received a consol- 
 atory letter from Fenelon, Archbishop of Cambray, in which, 
 without entering into aftairs of state or politics, he had said, 
 " that he prayed the Lord to give the king, her son, all 
 things that were needful for him, and that his heart might be 
 
17U-1715.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 537 
 
 always in the hands of the Most High, to guard and dispose 
 it according to his will." Although neither wealth nor do- 
 minion was included in this petition for her son, the royal 
 mother was satisfied ; better things had been asked. 
 
 The poor queen, being without money at this time, in con- 
 sequence of the delays on the part of the French ministry in 
 the payment of her pension, was greatly troubled to meet the 
 trifling current expenses even of her present economical way 
 of life. Her coach and horses caused her some uneasiness, for 
 the person at whose mews she had been accustomed to keep 
 them sent word " that he could not engage for their safety. 
 Every one was starving in the suburbs of Paris, and he was 
 afraid they would be stolen from his place." The coachman 
 told her majesty " he thought it would be desirable to keep 
 the coach, at any rate, in the convent court, where it would be 
 locked up within double doors ;" but this also involved a dif- 
 ficulty, for there was no covered place to put it under, and if 
 exposed to the weather it would soon fall to pieces. These 
 petty cares of every-day occurrence, about matters to which 
 the attention of persons of royal birth is never directed, were 
 very harassing to her. "There were times," she would say, 
 " when she felt so cast down, that the weight of a straw, in 
 addition to her other troubles, appeared a burden, and she 
 dreaded every thing." 
 
 It was in the year 1714 Mary Beatrice received the first, 
 last, and only instalment from the British government ever 
 paid to her of the jointure settled upon her by the Parliament 
 of England. Queen Anne, on the 23d of December, 1713, 
 signed the warrant authorizing the payment of 11,750^. out of 
 500,000^. lately granted by Parliament for the liquidation of 
 her own private debts. 50,000^. per annum was the sum orig- 
 inally claimed by the exiled queen ; but her necessities, and 
 above all her desire of entering into amicable relations with 
 Queen Anne, for the sake of her son, induced her gladly to ac- 
 cept a first quarter's payment on the Lord-Treasurer Hai-ley's 
 computation of the dower at 47,000^. The acquittance she 
 gave was simply signed Marie, Heine. Not long after she 
 was attacked with so severe an illness that she was given up 
 by her physicians. She received the intimation with perfect 
 calmness : life had now nothing to attach her, except a long- 
 ing desire to see her son. Contrary to all human exi)ectation, 
 she revived, and finally recovered in time to attend the death- 
 bed of her old friend, Louis XIV. 
 
 Arms and stores for the Jacobite cause had been secretly 
 provided by the friendship of the deceased king, Louis XIV. ; 
 
 X* 
 
538 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1718. 
 
 they were on board twelve ships lying at Havre. Just as 
 these ships, which were to land troops on the coast of Scotland 
 for the use of her son, the Chevalier de St. George, were 
 ready to sail, Sir George Byng came into the roads with a 
 squadron, and prevented them from leaving the harbor. 
 This was the real cause of the foilure of the Jacobite enter- 
 prise, since the bravest champions can do little without weap- 
 ons. The rebellion in Scotland of 1715 broke out premature- 
 ly, hurried on by the ardor of misjudging partisans. Its de- 
 tails belong to our national annals : all we have to do with it 
 is to trace its effects on the personal history of the royal moth- 
 er of the representatives of the fated line of Stuart, 
 
 After the disastrous termination of that enterprise, the 
 Chevalier de St. George returned to Gravelines, about Februa- 
 ry 22, and came secretly in disguise to see her at St. Germains ; 
 where, in spite of the interdict against his presence in the 
 French dominions, he remained with her several days — a con- 
 solation she had scarcely ventured to anticipate, after the dis- 
 astrous termination of his expedition to Scotland. More than 
 once she had said, during his absence, that she could be con- 
 tent, if he were spared to her, to say, like Jacob, " It is enough : 
 Joseph, my son, yet liveth ;" but to look upon his face once 
 more, she had scarcely ventured to expect. 
 
 The regent Orleans, though he permitted not the presence 
 of the Chevalier de St. George in France, could not be induced 
 to deprive his widowed mother of her asylum and maintenance. 
 Mary Beatrice, therefore, remained unmolested in the royal 
 chateau of St. Germains, and retained the title and state of a 
 queen-dowager of England to her dying day. Her receptions 
 were attended by the mother of the regent with the same cere- 
 monials of respect as in the life-time of her powerful friend, 
 Louis XIV. She would have preferred accompanying her be- 
 loved son to Avignon ; but his interest required that she 
 should continue to support, at any sacrifice, the state of queen- 
 mother, and to keep up friendly and confidential intercourse 
 with the wife, mother, and daughters of the regent of France. 
 
 In the evening of May 6 she felt the approach of death, and 
 bestowed all her attention on the prayers for a soul departing, 
 which were continued all night. From the time the queen's 
 sickness assumed dangerous symptoms, her chamber was 
 crowded with company of the four nations of whom the inhab- 
 itants of St. Germains werfe composed — English, Irish, Scotch, 
 .and French, and the last survivors of her Italian attendants, 
 who had been in her service ever since her marriage. More 
 than fifty jDeople were present ; but her son, the last and dear- 
 
1718.] MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA. 539 
 
 est tie tliat remained to her on earth, was not permitted to 
 come to her, being forbidden to enter France. He was absent, 
 but not forgotten. The dying queen had earnestly desired to 
 see her friend Marshal Villeroi, the governor of the young 
 King of Fi'ance; and when, in obedience to her summons, he 
 came and drew near her bed, she rallied the sinking energies 
 of life, to send an earnest message to the regent Orleans, and 
 to the royal minor Louis XV., in behalf of her son. Nor was 
 Mary Beatrice forgetful of those who had served her so long 
 and faithfully ; for she fervently recommended her servants 
 and destitute dependents to his care, beseeching with her 
 last breath that his royal highness, the regent, would not suf- 
 fer them to perish for want in a foreign land when she should 
 be no more. These cares appear to have been the latest con- 
 nected with earthly feelings that agitated the heart of the ex- 
 iled queen ; for though she retained her senses to the last gasp, 
 she spoke not again. More than fifty persons Avere present 
 when she breathed her last, between seven and eight in the 
 morning of the 7th of May, 1718, in the sixtieth year of her 
 age, and the thirtieth of her exile. She had survived lier un- 
 fortunate consort James II. sixteen years and nearly eight 
 months. 
 
 There is a portrait of Mary Beatrice by Gobert, taken a 
 few months before her death ; in it she is represented in her 
 Avidow's dress, sitting by the urn which enshrines her hus- 
 band's heart ; she points to it with a mournful air. A large 
 black crape veil is thrown over her head, according to the 
 fashion of the royal widows of France, one corner forming 
 a point on the forehead, and the rest of the drapery falling 
 like a mantle over the shoulders nearly to the ground. Her 
 robes are of some heavy mourning stuff, with hanging sleeves, 
 Avhich are turned back with white lawn Aveepers, and disi)lay 
 the hands and arms a little above the Avrist. She wears the round 
 Avhite lawn tippet, Avhich then formed part of the AvidoAv's cos- 
 tume, and about her throat a single row of large round pearls, 
 from which depends a cross. Her liair is shown from beneath 
 the veil : it has lost its jetty hue, so have her eyebroAvs ; and 
 though decided vestiges of beauty may still be traced in the 
 majestic outline of her face, it is of a different character from 
 that Avhich Lely and Kneller painted, and Waller, Dryden, 
 and Granville sang. A milder, a more subdued expression, 
 )narks the features of the fallen queen, the desolate Avidow, and 
 bereaved mother, Avho had had so often cause to say with the 
 Psalmist, "Thine indignation lieth hard upon me. Thou hast 
 vexed me Avith all thy storms." But the chastening had been 
 
540 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1718. 
 
 givea in love, the afflictions had been sent in mercy ; religion 
 and the sweet lases of adversity had done their work ; every 
 natural alloy of pride, of vanity, and impatience had been 
 purified from the character of this princess. There is some- 
 thing more lovely than youth, inore pleasing than beauty in 
 the divine placidity of her countenance, as she sits in her sable 
 weeds by that urn, a mourner, but not without hope, for the 
 book of holy writ lies near, as well it might, for it Avas her 
 daily study. It was tlie fountain of consolation whence Mary 
 Beatrice of Modena drew the sweetness that enabled her to 
 drink the bitter waters of this world's cares with meekness, 
 and to repeat, under every fresh trial that was decreed her — 
 
 "It is the Lord, he is the Master, and his holy name be for- 
 ever blessed and praised." 
 
 Never did any Queen of England die so poor as Mary Be- 
 atrice, as regarded the goods of this world. Instead of hav- 
 ing anything to leave, she died deeply in debt to the commu- 
 nity of Chaillot : " this debt, with sundry small legacies, she 
 charged her son to pay, out of respect to her memory, when- 
 ever it should please God to call him to the throne of his an- 
 cestors." All wept and lamented her loss at St. Germains — 
 Protestants as well as persons of her own faith ; for she had 
 made no distinction in her charities, but distributed to all out 
 of her pittance. The poor were true mourners. Her ladies, 
 some of whom had been five-and-forty years in her service, 
 were disconsolate for her loss. The mother of the regent 
 Orleans — a princess who, from her near relationship to the 
 royal Stuarts, and an acquaintance of nearly thirty years, had 
 ample opportunities of forming a correct judgment of her real 
 characteristics, has left this record of Mary Beatrice : " Yes- 
 terday morning, about seven o'clock, the good, pious, and vir- 
 tuous Queen of England died at St. Germains. She must be 
 in heaven. She left not a dollar for herself, but gave away 
 all to the poor, maintaining many families. She never in her 
 life," a strong expression, and from no hireling pen, "did 
 wrong to any one. If you Avere about to tell her a story of 
 any body, she would say, ' If it be any ill, I beg you not to re- 
 late it to me. I do not like stories Avhich attack the reputa- 
 tion.' " 
 
 The remains of Mary Beatrice were removed to Chaillot for 
 interment on the 9th of May, 1718, attended by her sorrowful 
 ladies and officers of state, amid the general lamentations of 
 the British emigrants and the poor. A court-mourning of six 
 weeks was ordered foi- her in France by the regent Orleans. 
 
1GG2.] 
 
 MARY 11. 
 
 541 
 
 Queen Mary. From a painting by Sir Geoffrey Kneller. 
 
 MARY II.,* 
 
 e' 
 
 QUEEN REGNANT OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND. 
 
 Nothing could induce James, Duke of York, to give up 
 Anne Hyde, the daughter of Lord Clarendon, When he won 
 her aifections he was an exile, and she was maid of honor to 
 his sister, Mary, Princess of Orange. But fortune changed 
 in favor of the royal line of Stuart ; yet the son of Charles I. 
 clave to the wife of his choice. The Lady Mary was their 
 second child, born at St. James's Palace, April 30, 1662, bap- 
 tized in the chapel of St. James, Prince Rupert being her god- 
 
 * The early life of Queen Anne is included in that of her sister Mary. 
 
542, QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1GG9. 
 
 father. Mary was nursed at Twickenham, in the old palace 
 of Katharine of Arragon, and reared under the protection of 
 her grandfather, Lord Clarendon, to whom she was consigned. 
 The birth of a brother removed the infant from proximity to 
 the crown. A sister was born on February 6, 16G4, to whom 
 the little Mary stood godmother in St. James's Chapel, giv- 
 ing her the name of Anne. 
 
 Brothers were born in quick succession ; yet not one Avas 
 loved like Mary by the Duke of York, who could not spare 
 her from liis arm, even when transacting naval aflairs. " I 
 was on business at York Place with the Duke of York," says 
 Pepys, "and with great pleasure did see him play with his 
 little girl, just like an ordinary pi'ivate father of a child," 
 After the first great naval victory of the Duke of York, he 
 took his infant family to York, to avoid the plague. 
 
 When Anne was three years old, her mother, Avho had no 
 fault but voracity, indulged her so much in eating that her 
 eyes inflamed, and she was sent to France, under the care of 
 her grandmother, Queen Henrietta. On the death of that queen 
 at Colombe, Anne was transferred to the nursery of the Duch- 
 ess of Orleans, her aimt, who dying some ten months after- 
 ward, the Duke of Orleans put the Lady Anne of York mourn- 
 ing with her cousins, his daughters, and she was seen in tiny 
 train and crape veil. Here she became acquainted with her 
 near relative and future antagonist, Louis XIV. 
 
 The Lady Anne Avas reclaimed by the Duke of York, and 
 after her return to England she was educated with her sister 
 Mary. Pepys, who, when paying a visit to the governess of 
 the princesses, Lady Peterborough, saw the Lady Mary tak- 
 ing her dancing-lesson at the Duchess of York's suite at 
 Whitehall, gives this lively description of her performance : " I 
 did see her," he says, " a little child in hanging sleeves, darlce 
 most finely so as JJmost to ravish me, her ear is so good. 
 She is taught by a Frenchman who taught Queen Henrietta, 
 and the royal family, and they all dance well." It does not 
 appear that Anne excelled in dancing. 
 
 At seven years old the educational establishment of Mary 
 and Anne was fixed at Richmond Palace. Frances Lady 
 Villiers was their governess, and her six daughters were put 
 in places about them. Mary had, likewise, a young lady 
 brought up from the cradle with her. Miss Trelawny, whom 
 she dearly loved. The Lady Anne also had a playmate, 
 Sarah Jennings, who began then the great poAver over 
 Anne that she afterward attained as Duchess of Marlborough. 
 Sarah was about three years older than her princess. TTnfor- 
 
1077.] MARY 11. 54;j 
 
 tunately, the influence she obtained over her young patroness 
 was not beneficial to the character of the princess, since it led 
 to nothing better than playing at cards for high stakes. Mary 
 possessed more talent than her sister ; she learned gratefully 
 all of science or accomplishments the masters imparted ; she 
 spoke and wrote French fluently ; drew well under the in- 
 structions of her late grandmother's dwarf artists, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Gibson ; read history attentively, and had musical skill. Her 
 defects were love of eating and card-playing : her gambling 
 on Sunday evenings gave pain to her tutor, Dr. Lake, even 
 before her marriage. The Duke and Duchess of York having 
 avowed themselves Roman Catholics, Charles II. had the 
 princesses confirmed in the Church of England by their pre- 
 ceptor, Dr. Conipton, Bishop of London. Their mother, the 
 Duehess of York, died soon after. Since her apostacy from 
 the Church of England her intercourse with her girls was lim- 
 ited. Two years after her death their fiither married Mary 
 Beatrice of Modena, as i)reviously related. 
 - England was left, by the early deaths of the sons of James 
 II., without heirs-male ; but the English looked forward with 
 complacency to the succession of an English-born queen. 
 War was then going on between wealthy Spain and martial 
 France. Tlie commerce and peace of Europe being molested, 
 Charles II. offered the Prince of Orange, his nephew, the 
 hand of the beautiful Lady Mary if he would aid in making 
 peace. The Prince of Orange, grandson of Charles I., and 
 great-grandson to the famous William of Orange, the libera- 
 tor of Holland from the cruelty of the Inquisition and Philip 
 IL, was then the General of Spain, wielding its military power 
 against France with bravery but very doulDtful skill, immense 
 slaughters in drawn battles or defeats being the only fruits 
 of his arms. He was styled the Protestant champion, though 
 fighting for the most culpable papist statePis Spain burnt alive, 
 yearly, more Jews and Protestants than France had done since 
 the fifteenth century. William of Orange presented himself 
 at the English court, and received the consent of his uncle 
 Charles to marry Mary. Unwillingly and tearfully Mary 
 consented to obey her king and uncle, after weeping piteous- 
 ly in her father's arms. The following day the privy council 
 and all the government authorities congratulated her. 
 
 The marriage between the royal cousins Avas appointed to 
 take place on Sunday, the 4th of November, the day on which 
 the Prince of Orange completed his twenty-fifth year. Mary 
 was fifteen the preceding April. Tlie nuptials were solem- 
 nized in her bed-chamber at nine o'clock at night, in the 
 
544 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1C77. 
 
 presence of King Charles II. and Queen Catharine, the Duke 
 of York and his young consort Mary Beatrice of Modena, 
 who was then hourly expected to bring an heir to England. 
 These, with the bride and bridegroom, and Compton, Bishop 
 of London, the bride's preceptor, who was to perform the 
 ceremony, were all that were present, save the oificial attend- 
 ants on these illustrious personages, the marriage beii]g strict- 
 ly private. 
 
 King Charles gave away the weeping bride, and strove to 
 conquer her dejection by his noisy joviality. He- hurried her 
 to the altar, saying merrily to the officiating prelate, " Come, 
 bishop, make all the haste you can, lest my sister, the Duchess 
 of York, should bring us a boy to disapj^oint the marriage." 
 
 Two days after these nuptials the bride was actually cut 
 off from her position of heircss-pi-esumjitive to the crown, aft- 
 er her father, by the birth of a brother, who seemed sprightly 
 and likely to live. 
 
 The Prince of Orange was complimented with the office of 
 sponsor to this unwelcome relative when it was baptized, No- 
 vember the 8th. 
 
 The ill-htmior of the Prince of Orange now became irre- 
 pressible, and apparent to the whole court, as well as his 
 morose behavior to his poor bride, who was always in tears. 
 Mary had some excuse for her sadness in the alarming illness 
 of her sister, the Princess Anne, whom at that time she 
 passionately loved. Anne was prevented from assisting at 
 the marriage, being confined to her bed by the small-pox ; 
 and Mary was forbidden to see her on account of the danger 
 of the infection of a disease which had been laeculiarly fatal 
 in her family. William's mother, and Mary's uncle, Henry, 
 Duke of Gloucester, died of it in the flower of their days ; 
 and the Duke of York and "William himself bore its confluent 
 marks on their faceS. Lady Villiers, the princesses' govern- 
 ess, was dying of it, and half the household at St. James's 
 very ill. 
 
 The wind stood westerly, and all was astir for departure, 
 November 19, 167*7. The Princess of Orange came to White- 
 hall in agonies of grief to bid farewell to her aunt, Queen Cath- 
 arine, who tried to soothe her grief by bidding her remember 
 she too had been compelled to leave her native land. " Yes, 
 madam," replied the sobbing bride ; " but you were coming 
 to England, I am leaving it." From Whitehall stairs Charles 
 II. and the Duke of York accompanied the bride and bride- 
 groom as far as Erith, where, after partaking of a magnificent 
 banquet, farewells passed with many tears, between the duke 
 
1G78-1G7:).] MARY II. 543 
 
 and bis beloved daughter. Tbe Prince of Orange was expect- 
 ed to embark at Sheerness that afternoon ; he had been paid 
 20,000/., an instahiient of his bride's fortune, before he parted 
 with his uncles, who ought, in common prudence, to have seen 
 him out of England before they left him. The wind changed 
 contrary for Holland before dark ; and the Orange party land- 
 ed at Gravesend, traveling from thence to Canterbury, mean- 
 ing the Dutch ships to come round to Margate. At Canter- 
 bury the prince considered himself in want of money, and sent 
 his favorite, Bentinck, to beg an advance of the Canterbury 
 corporation, on the plea that he had been thrust out of England 
 in a hurry, and wanted funds to leave it. The corporation 
 treated the application with contempt, and refused all ad- 
 vances ; but Dr, Tillotson, the dean, collected all the money 
 and plate he could command, and waited on the prince with 
 it. The sympathy tlfeu established between them caused the 
 future advancement of Tillotson to the See of Canterbury, 
 when Sancroft was deprived. 
 
 The prince, after this curious diplomacy, embarked at Mar- 
 gate with his bride and three daughters of her governess — 
 Lady Inchinquin, and Anne and Elizabeth Villiers ; from them 
 the prince chose a mistress, Elizabeth, who was three years 
 older than his wife. The sorrow of Mary concerning her be- 
 gan then, and continued through her married life. Anne Vil- 
 liers, who likewise gave great uneasiness to the young prin- 
 cess, was taken in marriage by the prince's favorite, Ben- 
 tinck. 
 
 The bridal party were received in Holland with great rejoic- 
 ings, for the prospect of peace this alliance afforded the Dutch. 
 Mary, though she had three palaces, w'as grieved because there 
 was no place for celebrating the Church of England service in 
 any of these Dutch residences. Having attended a meeting 
 of Brownists, fanatic sectarians and fatalists, in high favor 
 Avith the Prince of Orange, Dr. Lloyd, her chaplain, who had 
 connived at it, was recalled by Charles IL, and Dr. Ken was 
 persuaded to succeed him as her chaplain at the Hague. It 
 was a difficult office, as the prince behaved with hostility to 
 every clergyman devoted to the Church of England. Lloyd 
 being questioned by the late tutor of the princess, was forced to 
 acknowledge that she had renewed her Sunday evening gam- 
 blings, which Dr. Lake has recorded with grief in his diary. 
 
 Tlie troubles in England owing to the Titus Oates perjuries 
 suddenly broke out just after Mary's marriage. The exile of 
 her father, on account of his Roman Catholic religion, soon 
 followed. He left England with his consort, and after a time 
 
540 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1685. 
 
 liis two daughters, the Princess Anne, the sister of the Prin- 
 cess of Orange, and the little Princess Isabella, his daughter 
 by the duchess, were permitted to join him. He resided for 
 a time at Brussels. 
 
 The Princess of Orange had borne the sorrows of her mar- 
 ried life with gentleness and patience ; but her health sank^ 
 and a low, nervous, intermittent fever threatened her life at 
 seventeen. She longed to see her beloved father; and at last, 
 after his duchess and daughters had visited her at her Hague 
 Palace, she had the extreme pleasure of seeing him, which pro- 
 duced such a change in her spirits that she successfully strug- 
 gled through the illness. They soon departed for Scotland, 
 where the Duke of Yjark was appointed to keep court. The 
 Princess of Orange bore them company as far as the Maesland 
 sluice at their embarkation. Here she parted from her father 
 in agonies of tears and grief. She ne^er again beheld him ; 
 and at that time of her life, how she would have recoiled, 
 could history have unrolled their future lives before her! 
 
 The princess had surrendered her dining-room as a chapel 
 to the Church of England, and was content to eat her meals 
 in a low dusky room, such as in England she had seldona or 
 perhaps never seen. Dr. Hooper received the chaplaincy 
 when his friend Dr. Ken retired from the Hague. Mary 
 pleased both these great churchmen by her conduct at this 
 time. She bore the sorrows of her married life with uncom- 
 ]>laining sweetness ; and though almost in a state of palace 
 imprisonment, except on public days, when, for evident rea- 
 sons, she appear.ed with the stately ceremonial due to a prin- 
 cess near to the English crown. At last Dr. Hooi)er could no 
 longer endure the insulting treatment of her husband, and Dr. 
 Covel took his place. Then the Prince of Orange, who had 
 been awed by tlie true religion and grandeur of character in 
 both Ken and Hooper, regularly commenced breaking the 
 spirit of his princess. Covel was equally sincere with his pred- 
 ecessors, but he was a quaint oddity, capable of protecting 
 no one. 
 
 The anniversary of the death of Charles I. had hitherto 
 been kept by his descendants after the custom instituted by 
 his loving sister, the Queen of Bohemia, who ever passed Jan- 
 uary 30 in mourning, fasting, and prayers. The Prince of 
 Orange entered his wife's apartment January 30, 1685, bade 
 her change her mourning garb for the gayest dress she had, 
 and accompajiy him to the public dinner, and then to the 
 Dutch comedy, a species of amusement, by the way, totally 
 unfit for the presence of any lady. Mary wept, but was 
 
1G8.-..] MAliY II. 547 
 
 forced to comply. She rejected every dish at the dinner, and 
 remained tearful at the vulgar comedy in Dutch taste. 
 
 The struggle left Mary sad and broken-spirited, but not ut- 
 terly subdued. She had about her, faithful English friends — 
 her nurse, Mrs. Langford, and the clergyman, her husband, 
 who both had had the personal care of her from her infancy ; 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, the dwarf painters, with whom she 
 studied their beautiful art ; likewise her beloved cradle-com- 
 panion, Anne Trelawny. The Prince of Orange, his mis- 
 tress Elizabeth, and Anne Villiers, the wife of Bentinck, 
 agreed that this domestic happiness must be broken up before 
 the princess could aid in the ruin of her father. 
 
 But it was another cause that turned her heart against him. 
 The Duke of Monmouth, the natural son of Charles II., had 
 been visiting the prince some time. His intentions, it was well 
 known, were inimical to Mary's father, from whom he meant 
 to rend the crown. The greatest intimacy had always subsist- 
 ed in childhood between Mary and Monmouth at the court of 
 her uncle. By the orders of the Prince of Orange, and to 
 the great displeasure of her father, it was now revived. 
 Mary, by the command of her husband, skated by day and 
 danced by night with the handsome exile. Monmouth Avas 
 already the husband of the Duchess of Buccleugh^ the richest 
 heiress in Scotland, by whom he had two sons. Her, he had 
 fors.aken for the beautiful Harriet Went worth, Avhom he declared 
 was the only woman whom he accounted his wife, for he was 
 only a boy when married to the Duchess of Buccleugh. Har- 
 riet Wentworth was with him at the Hague, and appeared at 
 Mary's court, who was compelled by the Prince of Orange 
 to receive and countenance her. 
 
 Meantime, her sister Anne, left by the Princess Mary lying 
 at St. James's between life and death with the stnall-pox, had 
 recovered and grown up to the age when tlie hands of prin- 
 cesses are solicited in marriage. Anne Stuart was the in- 
 dulged niece and petted child of Charles IL and her father. 
 She was a pretty brunette, possessing no accomplishments 
 excepting some skill on the organ and guitar ; her good qual- 
 ities were more than counterbalanced by her devotion to high 
 play, waste of time at cards, and neglect of reading, which 
 left her without the power of spelling or Avriting good En- 
 glish. Her blind partiality to Sarah Jennings, now married 
 to her father's favorite, John Churchill, rendered her a puppet 
 in their hands. 
 
 George, the eldest son of the king's first cousin Sophia 
 (youngest daughter of Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia), made 
 
548 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [J 683. 
 
 his appearance at the English court as the suitor of the 
 Princess Anne. Her father and the king received him very 
 kindly into family intimacy. It was 1680, when the popish 
 plot was at its height, which caused suspicions in the mind of 
 the wooer of the instability of the crown of Stuart; so Anne 
 and the future George I. did not become man and wife. A 
 very clever letter is extant from him, addressed to his mother 
 Sophia, describing his reception, and how tlie English cut off 
 the head of Lord Stafford with " no more remorse than that 
 of a pullet." Anne was exceedingly mortified at the retreat 
 of her wooer, though he was scarcely five feet in height. The 
 Prince of Orange, who had an immense objection to the 
 match, kindly negotiated a mariiage between him and the 
 beautiful Sophia Dorothea, daughter to George, Duke of Zell, 
 uncle to the Prince of Hanover. It proved the most wretch- 
 ed marriage modern history records ; therefore the Lady Anne 
 Stuart escaped great misery. Afterward, the accomplished 
 Lord Mulgrave, the court poet, made love secretly to Anne. 
 Sarah Churchill stole some letters of the lovers, and showed 
 them to Charles IL, who gave Mulgrave a commission to Tan- 
 giers, and provided a spouse for the princess without delay. 
 Anne never discovered her favorite's treachery. The choice 
 of Charles II. for his niece Anne fell on a near kinsman, 
 younger brother of the King of Denmark. The marriage 
 was as distasteful to William of Orange as any other, because, 
 although he had no children by Mary, he was, if her sister 
 could be kept single, next heir to the crown of Great Britain, 
 without the trouble of any intrigues. 
 
 Marriage between the Lady Anne and Prince George of 
 Denmark was formally proposed, on the j)art of the King of 
 Denmark, in May, 1683. 
 
 George had formerly been distinguished by his gallant res- 
 cue of his brother King Christiern, who had, during a severe 
 battle between the Danes and Swedes, been made prisoner, 
 when Prince George cut his way through a squadron of the 
 Swedes, and delivered his royal brother. It was considered 
 desirable that he should remain at the court of England, with- 
 out taking his wife to Denmark, Prince George arrived in 
 London in July, 1683 ; he dined publicly at Whitehall with 
 the royal family, and was seen by crowds of people. Evelyn 
 thus describes him : " I saw Prince George, July 25 ; he has 
 the Danish countenance, blonde ; of few words, spake French 
 ill, seemed somewhat heavy, is reported valiant." The mar- 
 riage of the Princess Anne took place at St. James's Chapel, 
 on St. Anne's Day, July 28, 1683, at ten o'clock at night. 
 
1685.] MARY II. 549 
 
 Her uncle, Charles II., gave her away ; Queen Catharine, the 
 Duchess of York, and the Duke of York, were present. Un- 
 like the private mari'iage of the weeping Princess Mary, 
 which took place in her own bed-chamber, the bridal of Anne 
 of York and George of Denmark was brilliant with light and 
 joyous company. The people kindled bonfires at their doors; 
 and in return wine-conduits and shows were provided for 
 them ; and the bells of every church in London rang all 
 night. King Charles settled on his niece, by act of Parlia- 
 ment, 20,000?. per annum, and from his own purse purchased 
 and presented to her, for a residence, that adjunct to the pal- 
 ace of Whitehall which was called the Cockpit (formerly its 
 theatre). 
 
 Sarah Churchill expressed an ardent wish to become one of 
 the ladies of the newly-wedded princess. Anne requested 
 her father's j^ermission to that efiect, which was instantly 
 granted. 
 
 " One day she proposed to me," wrote Sarah Churchill, of 
 the Princess Anne, " that whenever I should be absent from 
 her, we might, in our letters, write ourselves by the feigned 
 names of Morley and Freeman. My frank, open temper nat- 
 urally led me to pitch upon Freeman, the princess took the 
 other." These names were extended to the spouses of the 
 ladies, and were adopted by Prince George of Denmark and 
 Colonel Churchill. Other sobriquets were given to the father 
 and family of the princess ; which subsequently masked their 
 titles in the series of dark political intrigues guided by Sarah 
 Churchill in the Revolution. 
 
 The death of Charles II., February 6, 1685, and his own 
 accession to the throne were announced by James II. affec- 
 tionately to his daughter Mary ; he did not write to the Prince 
 of Orange. The letter arrived at the Hague when the prin- 
 cess dined in public. The prince took it from his consort, 
 and read it aloud to the Dutchmen present, as if addressed to 
 himself. Monmouth vanished from the Hague by night, and 
 was not heard of until he had landed in the west of England 
 the next June, proclaiming himself king, and denouncing 
 James II. as the mui-derer of Charles 11. His fall and execu- 
 tion followed his rebellion. 
 
 William was not only very uncivil to Mary's English chap- 
 lains, but most suspicious of them. One day he intercepted a 
 letter from the Rev. Dr. Covel to the British ambassador at 
 his own court. He scrupled not to break the seal, but was 
 much disappointed at finding it was written in cipher which 
 baffled his curiosity. When he returned to Dierin, where Dr. 
 
550 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1686. 
 
 Covel was in attendance upon tbe princess, William possess- 
 ed himself of the key to the doctor's cipher, and by that 
 means made out the contents of the letter. Nothing could 
 be more mortifying to hira. It represented tbe hopeless 
 slavery to which the poor princess was reduced, and the evil 
 influence of the Villiers sisters in her court. William sent a 
 copy of the letter to Lawrence Hyde, the Lord Chancellor of 
 England, and demanded vengeance on the writer. He also 
 made this discovery an excuse for dismissing all the faithful 
 and beloved English attendants of poor Mary. Among these 
 Avere her nurse, Mrs. Laugford, whose husband was the second 
 chaplain in her chapel, and, to the excessive anguish of the 
 princess, Anne Trelawny, who had been her beloved friend 
 from her cradle. Dr. Covel escorted the indignant and loving 
 domestics of his princess home. The ends of the Prince of 
 Orange were now gained ; his friendless wife fell entirely into 
 his power. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Spain and France, after a few years' breathing-time, were 
 again threatening to go to war. William of Orange, engaged 
 as the generalissimo of the first, induced the United States to 
 fit out for service all the ships, his uncle's victories had left 
 them, in aid of Spain. Louis XIV., in preparation for the 
 coming storm, had not only deprived his Protestant subjects 
 of their religious liberty, but subjected them to cruel torments 
 on their disapproval of Roman Catholic rites, for he began 
 his dragonnades as early as 1685. James II. received the ill- 
 treated refugees with great kindness, and allowed for their 
 sustenance the noble sum of 50,000?., and the free exercise of 
 their neligious worship. The king likewise intimated his de- 
 sire that France, Holland, and Germany should keep the peace 
 of Europe. Hitherto, they had most unwillingly complied. 
 • James II. sent his friend William Penn, the illustrious phil- 
 anthropist, to his daughter and her husband in January, 1686, 
 to convince them by his eloquence of the propriety of his abol- 
 ishing all laws tending to persecution. On which the prince 
 declared, " he would lose all the revenues and reversion of 
 the kingdom of Great Britain, to which his wife was heiress, 
 before the penal laws should be abolished." The princess 
 echoed his words ; and with a sharpness of tone, for which Penn 
 was unprepared, affirmed, " that if ever she had the power, 
 
1686.] MARY II. 55I 
 
 she would make the penal laws against the Catholics firmer 
 than those of Queen Elizabeth." From that moment began 
 the enmity of the Orange party toward William Penu, which 
 has, indeed, cuased some shallow calumnies to be adopted 
 against him by a modern historian. The Prince of Orange 
 was less violent than his consort, and astutely endeavored to 
 bargain with Penn, as the price of his consent, " that King 
 James should allow his daughter a pension of 48,000/. per an- 
 num." James II. was rich, and free from debt, either public 
 or private ; but he said, " he must first ascertain clearly that 
 this large income, if he sent it out of the country, would not 
 be used against himself." 
 
 The more inimical Mary became, the more aflTection did the 
 Princess Anne receive from her father. Her Danish marriage 
 was happy and productive of offspring. Her third daughter 
 was born May, 1686, at Windsor Castle. All her children were 
 carried off by infantile diseases ; yet hope existed that their 
 loss would be soon supplied. 
 
 The princess was munificiently endowed by her fi^ther with 
 32,000?. per annum ; yet, whether by her own high play, or 
 gifts to her favorite Sarah, now Lady Churchill, she had been 
 found every Christmas overwhelmed in debt. Her father had 
 relieved her twice, but finding, in 1686, that she was 7000/. in 
 debt, he one day walked into her boudoir so unexpectedly that 
 Lady Churchill and Lady Fitzharding (one of the Villiers sis- 
 ters) had only just time to shut themselves in a closet, where 
 Anne permitted them to remain as eavesdroppers, listening to 
 the confidential communication of her father. The king re- 
 minded her " that he had made her a noble allowance, and 
 that he had twice cheerfully paid her debts ; but that now he 
 was convinced that she had some one about her for whose sake 
 she plunged herself into inconveniences. Of these, his pater- 
 nal affection was willing once more to relieve her, but she must 
 observe more economy for the future." The Princess Anne only 
 answered her father with teai's. The moment King James de- 
 parted, out burst the two spies. Lady Churchill exclaiming, 
 " Oh, madam ! all this is owing to that old rascal, your uncle !" 
 Ladies are unwise to suffer their women to call their uncles 
 or fathers " old rascals." This abused uncle, Lawrence Hyde, 
 was a lord treasurer, of whose honesty the flourishing revenue 
 of a lightly-taxed country, then without national debt, bore 
 honorable witness. 
 
 The first day of the year 1687-8 brought intelligence which 
 roused the Princess Anne and her miniature court to appre- 
 hension that the reversionary prospect of her wearing, one 
 
552 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G88. 
 
 day, the crown of Great Britain, might be altogether obscured 
 by the birth of an heir-apparent. For thanks were offered up 
 in all the churches in England because the queen expected off- 
 spring. There were few persons at the court of James but 
 were playing the parts of spies, corresponding with the Oi'ange 
 court. Many, not aware of what their acquaintances were 
 about, wrote exceedingly bitterly against each other. At the 
 head of James II's enemies figures his beloved Anne. A ma- 
 licious pen did Anne hold in her youth ; her chief hatred was 
 toward the queen, her step-mother, and Lady Sunderland. 
 The two sisters had nick-names for their fother and his queen, 
 who, in their correspondence, were spoken of as " Mansel and 
 Mansel's wife," the prime ministei', Sunderland, and his coun- 
 tess were " Rogers and Rogers's wife." Sunderland and his 
 wife had been foremost among the secret agents aiding the 
 machinations of William and Mary. He affected to be a 
 convert to the Church of Rome ; she outdid even the king's 
 daughters in her zeal for the Church of England. The gist 
 of Anne's letters was that the queen's expectation was delu- 
 sive to the nation ; and that she meant to impose upon the 
 English a suppositious son, to be brought up a Roman Catho- 
 lic ; for Anne declared that if the babe was not a girl she 
 never would believe otherwise. Of course, as the child must 
 have been either girl or boy, the assertion was absurd indeed. 
 The Princess of Orange was more reserved and less coarse 
 in her expressions ; for, indeed, Anne's letters are irreclaimably 
 vulgar in their expressions. 
 
 A few days before Trinity Sunday, 1688, King James had 
 remarkably exasperated his people by sending to the Tower 
 seven prelates. The point of dispute was, that the king abol- 
 ished the penal laws against all non-confoiniiists to the Church 
 of England whatsoever ; but he did it by his royal authority 
 and an act of privy council, not by consent of Parliament. 
 Sancroft, Ai'chbishop of Canterbury, and six other prelates, con- 
 sidered this an unconstitutional proceeding, and petitioned to 
 be excused from reading the declaration from their pulpits, or 
 to promulgate it in their respective dioceses. The king lost 
 his temper, and dismissed them angrily. Unfortunately, the 
 petition was printed and published. This greatly offended 
 the king, and he sent them to the Tower for refusing to give 
 bail for their appearance to answer to a charge of high trea- 
 son. Sancroft's companions in the Tower were Turner, Bish- 
 op of Ely ; White, Bishop of Peterborough ; Lake, Bishop of 
 Chichester; Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells ; Trelawny, Bish- 
 op of Bristol ; and Lloyd, of St. Asaph. Ken had formerly been 
 
1688.] MARY II. 553 
 
 chaplain and almoner to the Princess of Orange. These prel- 
 ates were only confined for seven days. Daring Sancroft's in- 
 carceration the Princess of Orange endeavored to enter into 
 correspondence by letter, to gain him as her partisan ; but no 
 flattery could obtain from Bancroft one factious complaint. 
 
 The unfortunate son of James II. and Mary Beatrice made 
 his entrance into a world which proved so very adverse to 
 him, at the unlucky time the king his father had outraged pub- 
 lic o.pinion by sending the bishops to the Tower, He was 
 born on the morning of Trinity Sunday, June 10, 1688. The 
 Princess Anne had betaken herself to Bath, on pretense of her 
 situation needing the waters, in order t'hat she might not be 
 present at the queen's accouchement. She wrote to her sister 
 in the following strain : 
 
 " After all this, 'tis possible it may he her child (the queen's), but where 
 one believes it, a thousand do not. For my part, except they do give very 
 plain demonstrations (which 'tis almost. impossible now), I shall ever be of 
 the number of the unbelievers. I don't find that people are at all dishem-ten- 
 ed, but seem all of a mind, ivhich is a very comfortable thing at such a time as 
 this." 
 
 Thus the Princess Anne affirms of herself, that she found it " a 
 very comfortable thing" for every body to believe that her 
 father could be guilty of the crime of imposing a spurious heir, 
 not only on his country, but on himself and his family. When 
 the crown coveted by Anne had been burning on her brow 
 for a few years, her ideas of the comforts arising from gratified 
 ambition were different. 
 
 Not all the inquiries of the privy council, which the king 
 summoned to discuss the disputed identity of his heir, could 
 be more conclusive than the correspondence still extant of 
 these sisters. 
 
 Mrs. Dawson, questioned by Anne at Mary's request, was 
 an elderly lady, of the established religion. She belonged to 
 the i-oyal household, and ha^been present with Anne Hyde, 
 Duchess of York, when botffthe Princesses Mary and Anne 
 were born. At a subsequent period she more solemnly at- 
 tested to Anne that the Prince of Wales was as much the son 
 of the queen as she was the daughter of the Duchess of York. 
 
 The tender and friendly letters Mary received from home 
 by every post, written either by her father or his queen, were 
 embarrassing ; for she had been given no feasible reason for 
 resentment, and it was difficult to repulse the tone of family 
 affisction. It was observed that the Prince of Wales had not 
 constantly the benefit of the prayers of his sister Mary in her 
 chapel at the Hague. When her father heard of this neglect, 
 
 Y 
 
554 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [16S8. 
 
 he wrote a letter of remonstrance, in which he asked his daugh- 
 ter the difficult question of " what offijnse had been given ?'* 
 Mary kept up her correspondence with her father until a 
 few days before the Dutch fleet and array sailed which was to 
 invade his kingdom. She constantly affirmed to him that it was 
 destined against France. James persisted in believing her, in- 
 somuch tliat he sent his faithful friend Bevil Shelton, the late 
 envoy to Holland, to the Tower, for insisting that his son-in- 
 law and daughter meant invasion. When at last no self-delu- 
 sion could remain, James wrote to his still beloved child this 
 letter, still extant : 
 
 KING JAMES TO HIS DAUGHTER MART. 
 
 " WiiiTEHAii, October 9, 1688. 
 " I had no letter from you by the last post, which you see docs not hinder 
 me from writing to you now, not knowing, certainly, what may have hinder- 
 ed you from doing it. I easily believe you may be embarrassed how to write 
 to me, now that the unjust design of the Prince of Orange's invading me is 
 so public. And though I know you are a good wife, and ought to be so, 
 yet for the same reason I must believe you will be still as good a daughter to 
 a father that has always loved you so tenderly, and that has never done the 
 least thing to make you doubt it. I shall say no more, and believe you very 
 uneasy all this time, for the concern you must have for a husband and a 
 father. You shall still find me kind to you, if you desire it." 
 
 While James II. was thus writing to the elder princess, his 
 faithful brother-in-law. Clarendon, was laboring to awaken 
 some filial feeling in the obtuse mind of his niece, Anne. It 
 was more than a fortnight before he could obtain any 
 conference with her. The council had concluded the 
 inquiry respecting the birth of the prince. Anne was 
 dressing for church, her women were about her, and all 
 were loud in mirth and joke when Loi'd Clarendon en- 
 tered. " Fine discourse," she exclaimed to him before her 
 servants, " you heard at council yesterday ;" and then she 
 made herself very merry with the whole afi^air, laughing loud 
 and long ; her women put in tl;^ir jests. Her uncle was dis- 
 gusted. " I whispered," he s^s in his diary, " to request 
 that she would give me leave to speak with her in private. 
 ' It grows late,' replied the princess, ' and I must hasten to 
 prayers ; but you can come at any time except this afternoon.' 
 In the evening my brother Lawrence was with me. I begged 
 him to go and talk to Anne. ' It will signify nothing!^ " em- 
 ])hatically replied the other uncle of the princess. At this 
 Time the Dutch fleet had been injured by storms, and put back. 
 The wish of Lord Clarendon, in seeking interviews with his 
 niece, was to awaken her filial aflections, and to induce her to 
 become the mediatrix between the king and his people that her 
 
1G88.] MAKY II, 555 
 
 infiint brother might be brought up in the Church of England. 
 Clarendon dreaded as much danger to that beloved church 
 from the prince who aspired to be its head, as from the Ro- 
 man Catholic head then in authority. 
 
 The invading fleet was refitted, and the final embarkation 
 of the Prince of Orange took place, November 1, 1688. 
 Mary wept bitterly when she parted from her husband. She 
 shut herself up afterward, and would not appear on her day 
 of dining publicly at the Hague Palace. From the lofty turrets 
 of that Gothic palace the tradition declares she watched the fleet 
 depart from the Brill which was to invade her sire's kingdom. 
 The Prince of Orange arrived safely in Torbay on the eve of 
 the anniversary of "the Gunpowder Plot." This day was 
 likewise the anniversary of his marriage with Mary. The 
 prince landed at Broxholme, near Torbay, November 5. 
 When he perceived that all around was quiet, and no symp- 
 toms of opposition to his landing, he said to Dr. Burnet, 
 who was with him, " Now, ought not I to believe in predes- 
 tination ?" 
 
 Meantime Anne was waiting news from her husband, who 
 had, in seeming friendship, departed with her father to join 
 his army near Salisbury. Tidings soon came that Prince 
 George had deserted to join the Prince of Orange, accompa- 
 nied by Lord Churchill and several others trusted by the 
 king. Anne had the week before written to the Prince of 
 Orange, announcing their intentions ; and when she heard 
 they had been successfully carried out, she prepared for her 
 own flight with her favorite. Lady Churchill, to her father's 
 enemy. She was at her own house, the Cockpit, in St. 
 James's. There she pretended to go to bed early on 
 Sunday evening, but watched privily with her women. 
 When one struck — the hour of appointment — she stole down 
 into the park, where she met Lord Dorset, who conducted 
 her to the next outlet into^the road, where they found a 
 hackney coach, attended by her tutor Compton, Bishop of 
 London, disguised as a footman. Betakhig themselves to 
 Lord Dorset's house at Waltham forest, the whole party 
 gained the Leicester road. Finally, Prince George met his 
 consort at Oxford, where she entered, escorted by several 
 thousand of the midland nobility and their tenants ; her tutor 
 the bishop, in jack-boots, and with broadsword, riding at the 
 head, with a purple banner, testifying attachment to Protes- 
 tnntism. When the king hea; d of the desertion and enmity 
 of Anne, he exclaimed, "God help me! my own child has 
 forsaken me." 
 
\ 
 \ 
 
 556 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1688. 
 
 Violent effusions of blood burst from his mouth ; so fre- 
 quently did the hemorrhages return, that he was forced to be 
 carried from the army, nearly in a helpless state, to London. 
 From that hour he lost all interest in the struggle for regal- 
 ity. Anne he found was gone, and that the queen had been 
 broken in upon and insulted, under pretense that she had 
 made away with the princess, who had left for him a letter 
 of excuse for her flight, in great contrast Avith that written to 
 the Prince of Orange. Both are extant, and may be com- 
 pared by any one desirous of truth. The escape of the queen 
 with her infant to France, and the dejjarture of James himself 
 next occurred. 
 
 The Prince of Orange had advanced as far as Abingdon ; 
 he could not conceal his joy when he heard of his uncle's de- 
 parture, who was, however, brought back again, and received 
 with such excessive joy in London, that if his army had not 
 been disbanded by his almost mortal illness, and if he could 
 have endured kindi'ed civil war, a counter-revolution might 
 have taken place. As it was, his son-in-law advanced with his 
 disciplined army of 15,000 foreign mercenaries, sent orders to 
 his father-in-law to quit Whitehall and retire to Ham House. 
 James said, " The step of a king from his prison to his grave 
 is a short one ;" and departed on the stormy evening of De- 
 cember 19 from Whitehall stairs in a fishing-boat for the 
 coast of France — an act little in unison with the chorus of 
 personal cowardice with which purchased or pensioned his- 
 torians assail the hero of several hard-fought naval battles. 
 James committed the great seal to the bosom of the Thames, 
 not, as interested partisans say, to impede public business, 
 but to prevent its being appended injuriously to public docu- 
 ments. 
 
 No leave-taking ever passed between the Princess Anne 
 and her unfortunate father ; they had had their last meeting 
 in this world, spoken their last words, and looked upon each 
 other for the last time. No elrort did Anne make, cherished 
 and indulged as she had ever been, to see her father ere he 
 went forth forever. Yet there had never arisen the slightest 
 disagreement between them ; no angry chiding regarding 
 their creeds ; no offense had ever been given her but the 
 existence of her hapless brother. Had she taken the neutral 
 part of retirement from the public eye while her royal father 
 was yet in England — ill, unhappy, and a prisoner — her con- 
 duct could not have drawn down the contemptuous comment 
 which it did from an eye-witness : 
 
 "King James went down the river in a most tempestuous 
 
1(>89.] MARY II. 557 
 
 evening, not without actual danger. On that same evening, 
 of ahiiost tragic interest, his daughter, the Princess Anne, 
 with Lady Cliurchill, both covered with orange ribbons, went 
 in one of his coaches, attended by his guards, triumphantly to 
 the play-house." " I took the liberty to tell her," says Clar- 
 endon, " that many good people were troubled to find that 
 she was no more concerned for her father's misfortunes ; for 
 when the news came of his final departure, she called for 
 cards, and was merry." Anne replied, " Those who made 
 such reflections on her actions did her wrong ; but it xoas true 
 that she did call for cards then, because she was accustomed 
 to play, and she hated aftected constraint." " And does 
 your royal highness think that trouble for your father's mis- 
 fortunes coiddhe interpreted as an affected constraint?" was 
 the stern rejoinder from her uncle. " But," adds he, in com- 
 ment, " Avith all this, she was not one jot moved." 
 
 Many and stormy were the debates that ensued during the 
 winter in the " convention," as it was called, of lords and 
 commons, who sat in debate together. The kingly office was 
 declared vacant only by a majority of one vote. Subsequently, 
 the Prince and Princess of Orange were elected as joint sov- 
 ereigns, that is to say, king and queen-regnant, and James 11. 
 and his heirs excluded forever. Slary was then permitted by 
 her spouse to approach the British dominions. Anne's party 
 were malcontent, because her successional rights were com- 
 promised by the royalty of William, who had, moreover, ben- 
 efit of survivorship in case he outlived her sister. The major- 
 ity of one against King James absent — his invader remaining 
 at the head of a disciplined foreign army in the midst of the 
 realm — was rightly considered as an alarming minority ; there- 
 fore Anne remamed quiescent, in wholesome dread of her 
 father's return. Great rejoicings were made on Shrove Tues- 
 day night, February 10, 1688-9, when it was signaled that 
 the new queen's fleet was in the mouth of the Thames. Bon- 
 fires blazed throughout London streets; the Orange pavtisnns 
 dressed a puppet to represent the unfortunate son of James II., 
 casting it into the flames, to testify their hatred of their queen's 
 rival — the first time history has to record the execution of a 
 babe in effigy. There exists a series of Dutch medals, publish- 
 ed under the patronage of William and Mary (albeit no very 
 liberal fosterers of the fine arts), of a peculiar nature, unexam- 
 pled in history, the completion of each being an extraordinary 
 event in the annals of numismatics. The medals Avere really 
 metallic caricatures, whether meant as such by William and 
 Mary, or whether the Dutch artist they hired to commemorate 
 
558 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1689. 
 
 tlioir triumphs over their fiither, uncle, and brother, had a 
 strona: taste for the ridiculous, who can say ? The Williamite 
 and Marian medallions did not disdain to caricature the un- 
 conscious babe, whose birth their patrons had slandered. The 
 opening of a mysterious chest is shown on one of them; in it 
 is seen, coiled up, an infant with a serpent's tail, illustrated by a 
 Latin motto, implying that " the child when reared would crest 
 itself into a dragon." In another the flight of Mary's father is 
 illustrated by his figure flying away with monstrous long 
 strides, throwing away a crown and sceptre, attended by a 
 Jesuit, carrying the poor babe, whose unwelcome brotherhood 
 to Mary had caused the whole commotion ; the motto to this 
 medal, Ite missa, est^ is applied rather wittily from the ritual 
 of the mass. 
 
1689.] 
 
 MARY II. 
 
 559 
 
 Great Peal of William and Mary. 
 
560 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1689. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The swiftest gales that ever speeded a favorite of fortune 
 to the possession of a throne attended Mary Princess of Orange, 
 in her short transit from the port of the Brill to the mouth of 
 her native Thames. She brought in her train her domestic 
 rival, Elizabeth Villiers, whom she had not the moral courage 
 to expel from her household. William of Orange had not 
 dared to outrage public opinion in England by making this 
 woman the companion of his expedition against his consort's 
 father ; but as he by no means intended to break his connec- 
 tion with her, Mary was doomed to the mortification of chap- 
 eroning her from Holland. The royal barge of her exiled 
 father was waiting for the new queen at Greenwich Palace 
 stairs ; and amid choruses of welcome from vast crowds, and 
 accompanied by her sister and brother-in-law, she Avas rowed, 
 to Whitehall Palace, and took possession. She entered White- 
 hall "jolly as to a wedding," wrote an eye-witness, " seeming 
 quite transported with joy." "Queen Mary wanted bowels," 
 records Lady Churchill; "of this she gave unquestionable 
 proof the first day she came to Whitehall. She ran about it, 
 looking into every closet and conveniency, and turning up the 
 quilts of the beds, just as people do at an inn, with no sort 
 of concern in her appearance. Although at the time I was 
 extremely caressed by her, I thought this strange and unbe- 
 coming conduct; for, whatever necessity there was of depos- 
 ing King James, he was still her father, who had been lately 
 driven from that very chamber, and from that bed ; and if she 
 felt no tenderness, at least, she might have felt grave at so 
 melancholy a reverse of fortune. But I kept these thoughts 
 in my own breast, not even imparting them to my mistress, 
 the Princess Anne, to whom I could say any thing." 
 
 " She rose early in the morning," resumes Evelyn, who had 
 a relative in waiting on her, " and in her undress, before her 
 women were up, went about from room to room, to see the 
 conveniences of Whitehall ; and within a night or two sat 
 down to basset — a gambling game so called. She smiled upon 
 all, and talked to everybody, so that no change seemed to 
 have taken place at court as to queens, save that she went to 
 our prayers." She seized the personal property her step-raoth- 
 
1689.] MARY 11. 561 
 
 er had left behind her. Evelyn was scandalized at seeing it 
 in her possession. Her old father had sent by Mr. Hayes — a 
 servant kinder to him than his own child — a request for his 
 clothes, which her uncle, Lord Clarendon, with a sad and sore 
 heart, observes " was utterly neglected." 
 
 The morrow was appointed for the proclamation in London 
 of the elected sovereigns ; it was Ash Wednesday. The day 
 was most inclement, and with dismal down-pouring of rain. 
 All London was, however, astir, and the new queen earlier 
 than any one. About noon, February 13, 1688-9, William 
 and Mary proceeded in state dresses, but without any dia- 
 dems, from the interior of the palace of Whitehall to the Ban- 
 queting-house. Here they received a deputation from the 
 convention of Parhament, inviting them to take possession of 
 the vacant throne, and they signed the Bill of Rights ; after 
 which they were proclaimed as WilUam IH. and Mary II., 
 King and Queen of England. But Queen Mary was neither 
 so much engrossed by her inquisition into the state of the 
 chattels her father had left in his apartments, nor by the tri- 
 umph of her accession on that memorable Ash Wednesday, 
 as to leave neglected a stroke of diplomacy, whereby she trust- 
 ed to sound the intentions of Archbishop Sancroft ; she dis- 
 patched two of her chaplains to Lambeth, on the afternoon of 
 the important proclamation-day, to crave his blessing for her. 
 "Tell your princess," answered the uncompromising primate, 
 " first to ask her father's blessing ; without that, mine would 
 be useless." 
 
 A second globe, sceptre, and sword were made for Queen 
 Mary. The coronation-oath was altered to its present form. 
 Just before the new sovereigns entered Westminster Hall for 
 their joint coronation, April 11, 1689, news arrived of the land- 
 ing of James II. in Ireland, and that he had taken peaceable 
 possession of the whole island, with the exception of London- 
 derry. At the same moment Lord Nottingham delivered to 
 Queen Mary the first letter her father had written to her since 
 the invasion. It was an awful one, and the time of its recep- 
 tion made it more so. King James wrote, " That hitherto he 
 had made all fatherly excuses for what had been done, and 
 had wholly attributed her part in the revolution to obedience 
 to her husband; but the act of being crowned was in her own 
 power, and if she were crowned while he and the Prince of 
 Wales were living, the curses of an outraged father would 
 light upon her, as well as of that God who had commanded 
 duty to parents." If Queen Mary were not confounded by 
 this letter. King Wilham certainly was. Lord Nottingliam, 
 • ■ Y * 
 
562 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1689. 
 
 an eye-witness, declares that King William said, " that he had 
 done nothing but with her approval." Irritated by the news, 
 the queen recriminated, "that it'her father regained his author- 
 ity, her husband might thank himself, for letting him go as 
 he dklP James II. then believed, to use his own words, 
 " that his daughter wished that some cruelty had been perpe- 
 trated against him." 
 
 These tidings reached the Princess Anne likewise while she 
 was dressing for the coronation. The prospects of the Orange 
 party seemed gloomy. Anne's ladies meditated how they 
 should make their peace if King James were restored. Mrs. 
 Dawson was there, who had been present at the birth of the 
 exiled Prince of Wales. The Princess Anne asked her, 
 " whether she believed the Prince of Wales was her brother 
 or not ?" — " He is, madam, as surely your brother, the son of 
 the king [James] and his queen, as you are his child by the 
 late Duchess of York ; and I speak what I know, for I was 
 the first person who received ye both in my arms." 
 
 The double coronation took double time ; odd accidents oc- 
 curred throughout ; neither monarch had the smallest coin 
 prepared for the sacramental offering ; only four bishops chose 
 to be present ; and such delays took place that the entrance 
 of Dymock, the champion, took place at the banquet in the 
 twilight. An old woman on crutches hobbled out of the 
 crowd, and, seizing the glove of the challenger, left a challenge 
 inviting the right to be fought out in Hyde Park next day, 
 of which no notice was taken. No coronation took place for 
 Scotland ; the regalia was enclosed in Edinburgh Castle, which 
 the Duke of Gordon then held out for James II. Three com- 
 missioners traveled to London in a post-chaise, bringing from 
 Edinburgh a charter thought satisfactory by their clients ; 
 and the monarchs signing it, swore to observe it, and received, 
 in return, oaths for as much Scottish loyalty as these commis- 
 sioners could make over to them. But the victory of Killi- 
 crankie, won by Dundee for James II., was the earliest tidings 
 which came to London from the Highlands. The triumph of 
 the French over the English fleet at Bantry Bay was caused 
 by the dreadful provisions and bad ammunition with which 
 the corrupt oflicials, released from the vigilance of the sailor- 
 king, had furnished the fleet. 
 
 A national debt of three millions, nevertheless, had in six 
 months been run up, as yet unpaid. Dissensions soon after 
 began between the royal sisters. William had promised Anne, 
 if she waived her precedence to him in the succession, to give 
 her the luxurious apartments of the Duchess of Portsmouth 
 
1689.] MAKY II. 563 
 
 at Whitehall. Mary refused compliance. Likewise he had 
 promised Anne an increase of the noble pension her fixther had 
 paid her. After the coronation, the queen informed her sister 
 that no one on the continent ever heard of sepai'ate revenues to 
 younger branches of the royal families. That she could dine 
 at her table, and, fi-om time to time, accept any funds for her 
 privy purse that could be spared. Anne was in despair, but 
 not in a situation consistent with contention. She retired to 
 Hampton Court with tUe king and queen ; and very amusing 
 are the anecdotes recorded by her favorite of the behavior of 
 the Dutch-born king at his own table. 
 
 At Hamptoni Court, Anne was safely delivered of a son, 
 July 24, 1689. He was proclaimed Duke of Gloucester. The 
 king and queen stood sponsors for him ; and he was generally 
 considered the son of their adoption, and heir of the revolu- 
 tionary settlement of the British empire. Lord Churchill, 
 although created by William, Earl of Marlborough, and given 
 rich court places, brought the distress of the princess before 
 Parliament. As he and his wife were the chief recipients of 
 Anne's income, Marlborough urged on the matter with all the 
 ardor of self-interest. A stormy scene occurred between the 
 royal sisters at Hampton Court, December 18, 1689, when the 
 news arrived that the commons allowed Amie 50,000^. from 
 the privy purse. Anne falteringly mentioned that her friends 
 wished it. " Friends, friends," reiterated Mary, sharply, 
 " what friends have you but the king and I ?" 
 
 Not one shilling, however, had Anne touched since the exile 
 of her father, and Prince George of Denmark was overwhelm- 
 ed with debts. From this moment the hatred between Queen 
 Mary and her sister was implacable. The princess withdrew 
 to the Cockpit, establishing her infant son in the Earl of Cra- 
 ven's house at Bayswater, which he had lent her on account 
 of the fine air. Here the weakly infant began to grow and 
 show some promise of future health. The queen gave to him 
 the disputed lodgings of Whitehall, whither he was transfer- 
 red when her majesty was there ; but she never met Anne 
 without an austere frown. 
 
 Such was the interior of the royal family, consisting of five 
 persons only, the king, queen. Princess Anne, Prince George 
 of Denmark, and their infant son, when William IH. was de- 
 parting from England to quell his uncle and father-in-law, who 
 had reigned in L'eland one year. On Mary devolved the dif- 
 ficult task of governing England as queen-regent. Bishop 
 Burnet, to aid this difficulty, introduced to the royal pair one 
 of James IL's former sea-captains, who had formed a plan to 
 
664 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1690. 
 
 kidnap his old master by pretending to revolt to Lira, with 
 a fine ship of war. He knew, he said, James would come 
 on board, when he would sail away with him and land him 
 in Spain, out of harm's way. William and Mary pi-otest- 
 ed against it, " for fear James should be hurt ;" and Burnet 
 greatly lauds their filial piety. Lord Dartmouth, however, 
 found a privy-seal document signed by both, addressed to 
 Lord Torrington, who was commander of the fleet until he 
 lost the battle of Beachy Head, autUorizing him to entrap 
 James from Ireland in the like manner, and to give him up to 
 the Dutch, whose mercies to their conqueror were not likely 
 to be very tender. 
 
 Queen Mary was brought to council by her husband, 
 June 3, 1690, as an act of Parliament had passed, investing her 
 with full regnal powers. She was assisted by nine noblemen 
 called regents. The history of her reign may be drawn from 
 her own letters, written to the king after he landed at Car- 
 rickfergus, June 14. A few personal traits only, derived from 
 the letters of Mary IL, are consistent with the limits of the 
 abridged " Lives of the Queens of England," which are fully 
 quoted in the library editions. 
 
 Left alone, or surrounded by those whose fidelity was 
 doubtful, Mai'y II. acted with decision and vigor. While a 
 victorious fleet threatened her coasts, she issued warrants for 
 the seizure of several nobles she suspected of attachment to 
 her father ; among others she announces to lier husband that 
 she had " clapped up in the Tower her uncle Clarendon." At 
 an early period of her regnal labors, the queen requested 
 her council to assist her in framing regulations for the better 
 observance of the Sabbath. All hackney-carriages and horses 
 were forbidden to work. The humanity of this regulation 
 was, however, neutralized by the absurdity of other acts. 
 The queen had constables stationed at the corners of streets, 
 who were charged to capture all puddings and pies on their 
 progress to bakers' ovens on Sundays ; but such ridiculous 
 scenes took place, in consequence of the owners fighting fierce- 
 ly for their dinners, that her law was suspended amid universal 
 laughter. Perhaps some of her council, remembering her 
 own Sunday evening gamblings, both in England and Holland, 
 thought that her majesty might have had mercy on the less 
 culpable Sunday puddings and pies of the hungry poor. 
 
 The disastrous news of the naval defeat at Beachy Head the 
 queen had to communicate, and " to strive with her heart," as 
 she expresses herself, for this was the most signal naval over- 
 throw that England had ever experienced. 
 
1690.] MARY II. 565 
 
 The disastrous naval defeat occurred on the 30tli of June; 
 WiUiam's victory of the Boyne took place the very day after, 
 July 1. Unmixed joy and exulting thanksgiving are the first 
 emotions expressed by Mary, Toward the end of her letter, 
 however, she recollects herself sufficiently to express her satis- 
 faction that the " late king," as she calls her father, was not 
 among the slain. Had he been so, even the most interested 
 partisans must have viewed her and her regal partner with 
 horror. 
 
 Praises of William III.'s great glory have abounded ; but 
 he had in Ireland 30,000 regular and disciplined troops — he 
 had the most formidable train of artillery in the world at his 
 command. Surely, the very act of looking such a formidable 
 force in the face, as opponents, was one of superior valor hi 
 the ill-armed and unpaid militia who fought for James. That 
 unfortunate king has been called a coward on account of its 
 loss, which, indeed, made good his own representations in his 
 naval regulations, " that a wholly difierent genius is required 
 for marine and land warfiire." The battle of the Boyne was 
 won by a furious charge of cavalry, and we never heard that 
 English sailors were particularly skillful in equestrian evolu- 
 tions, or that a British admiral ought to be called a coward 
 because he was not an adroit general of horse. When the 
 sailor-king met the Dutch on his own element, history gave a 
 different account of him. 
 
 The queen visited Hampton Court July 22, to superintend 
 the alterations disfiguring that ancient palace. The grand 
 apartments, where the English-born sovereigns held their state, 
 had been demolished ; and had it not been for a felicitous lack 
 of money and Portland stone, not a fragment of their noble 
 country-palace would have been left. All that has been hith- 
 erto known of Mary II. has been imbibed by the public from 
 Burnet's panegyrics. But with what promptitude would the 
 revolutionary bishop have demolished his own work, could he, 
 like us, have read her majesty's letter to the king, of July 26, 
 and seen the contemptuous reluctance with which she ac- 
 ceded to his desire of having his sermon on the Boyne vic- 
 tory printed, M:my passages in her letters, written with un- 
 studied grace and simplicity, prove that Mary's tastes in com- 
 position w^ere elegant and unaffected ; consequently, Burnet's 
 style must have been odious to her. How differently did the 
 man himself and the world believe he was rated in her maj- 
 esty's estimation ! Let her speak for herself, as follows : " I 
 will say no more at present, but that the Bishop of Salisbury 
 made a thundering long sermon this morning, which he has 
 
566 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1690. 
 
 been with me to desire me to prints which I could not refuse, 
 though I should not have ordered it, for reasons which I told 
 
 him I am extreme impatient of hearing from you, 
 
 which I hope in God will be before I sleep this night ; if not, 
 I think I shall not rest. But if I should meet with a disa] - 
 pointment of your not coming, I don't know what I shall dc, 
 for my desire of seeing you is equal to my love, which can 
 not end but with my life." 
 
 King William had written a sharp reproof to his loving 
 spouse, on the subject of Kensington Palace not being ready 
 for his reception. He had purchased the remainder of the 
 lease of the crown, held by Lord Nottingham ; and the south- 
 ern part of the palace was then in the course of constructioti, 
 under the care of Queen Mary, Avho often mentions its prog- 
 ress in her letters. It was rather unreasonable of the king, 
 who only left her in the middle of June, to expect that, with 
 an exhausted treasury, his queen could prepare his palace for 
 his reception in the first days of August ; therefore her apolo- 
 gy and extreme humiliation for the non-performance of im- 
 possibilities, especially in asking pardon for smells for which 
 the house-painter and his painting-pots were alone accounta- 
 ble. The rest of her letter is couched in the same prostration 
 of spirit. Throughout the correspondence not a word occurs 
 regarding the Princess Anne, nor does the queen ever allude 
 to her nephew and heir-presumptive, the infant Duke of Glou- 
 cester, then twelve months old. The hatred that was brood- 
 ing in the minds of the sisters had not yet burst into open 
 flame : they still observed the decencies of dislike, and had 
 ceremonious meetings. 
 
 The cabals in the two councils, relative to the command of 
 the beaten and disgraced fleet of England, harassed the queen. 
 The fine navy her father had formed for his destroyers was 
 at the command of Mary — at least, all that remained of it 
 from two disastrous defeats. But the harpies of corruption 
 had rushed in ; the vigilant eye, which watched over the 
 proper appointment of stores and necessaries, was distant. 
 The elective sovereigns durst not complain of peculations, 
 which had become systematic ; the English fleet was degrad- 
 ed, not for want of brave hearts and hands, and fine ships, 
 but because those concerned in finding stores, ammunition, 
 provision, and pay, pilfered daringly. The consequence was, 
 that none of James's former sea-captains could be induced to 
 take a command which must, perforce, end in disgrace. 
 
 The queen's hopes of the return of her husband, which had 
 been lively at the beginning of July, were now deferred from 
 
1690.] MARY II. 567 
 
 week to week. Success had turned in Ireland against his 
 party. . The defense of Limerick by the Jacobite commander, 
 Sarstield, rivaled in desperation that of Londonderry, by the 
 Calvinist minisier. Walker, in the preceding year. An equal 
 number of William's highly-disciplined soldiers fell in the 
 siege, as King James had lost of the half-armed Irish militia 
 at the passage of the Boyne. The Protestants of Ireland had 
 been discouraged by the speech that broke from the lips of 
 the Oratige king. When one of them told him, in a tone of 
 lamentation, " that Parson Walker was among the slain in the 
 mUee at the Boyne," — " Why did the fool go there ?" was 
 the best tribute King William afforded to the memory of the 
 partisan to whom he owed Ireland. The reverend gentle- 
 man had given his aid at the Boyne, in the expectation of 
 gaining farther renown in regular warfare, and the regiment- 
 al king scorned all glory that had not been at drill. William 
 remained unwillingly in Ireland, witnessing the waste of his 
 army in the fatal trenches of Limerick. His passage home 
 was no easy matter, for the victorious French fleets not only 
 rode triumphantly in the English Channel, but in that of St. 
 George, rendering dangerous the communication between 
 England and Ireland. 
 
 The queen was, in the beginning of August, 1690, deeply 
 occupied in receiving the confessions of the Lords Annandale 
 and Ross. These men were not originally the friends of her 
 father, but his enemies, who, with Sir James Montgomery, had 
 headed the deputation sent to oflier her and her consort Wil- 
 liam of Orange the crown of Scotland. They deemed they 
 had not been rewarded commensurately with their merits, 
 and therefoie joined the widely-ramified plot against the govern- 
 ment, which the death of Viscount Dundee had disorganized in 
 the preceding year. The titled informers made a bargain 
 that they were not to be brought in personal evidence against 
 their victims. 
 
 The queen agreed that ISTevill Payne, the tutor of the young 
 Earl of Mar, should be forced to take upon himself the infamy 
 of legal informer, regarding this Jacobite conspiracy, from 
 which the real betrayers had bargained to be excused. The 
 queen, deeming Nevill Payne a plebeian, had not the most dis- 
 tant idea of the high-spirited firmness with which he endured 
 torture, nor how a man of the people could keep his oath and 
 his word. Pie died from effects of the torture, which was le- 
 gal in Scotland till the union. The queen's letters are worded 
 with guarded mystery; but the prime minister of Scotland, 
 Lord Melville, was at her court in England co-operating with 
 
568 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1690. 
 
 her in guiding the whole affair, as his lately-published papers 
 prove, therefore it is impossible to acquit her of pre-kuowledge 
 of the atrocities that ensued. 
 
 King William was defeated in an attempt to storm Lim- 
 erick, August 26, leaving 1200 regular soldiers dead in the 
 trenches ; he raised the siege, and embarked for England. His 
 brother-in-law. Prince George of Denmark, was permitted to 
 sail in the same ship with him. So prosperous was his voy- 
 age, that they arrived in King's Road, near Bristol, September 
 6, driven by the autumnal winds, before which the French 
 ships had retired, when the King of Great Britain, finding the 
 coast clear, got safely to the other side of the water. 
 
 QUEEN MARY TO KING WILLIAM. 
 
 " WuiTEHALL, Sept. 18,1690. 
 
 "Lord Winchester is desirous to go and meet you, which you may helieve 
 I will never hinder any one. Whether I ought to send him out of form 
 sake I can't tell ; but it may pass for what it ought to the world, and to your 
 dear self, at least, I suppose it is indifferent. Nothing can express the im- 
 patience I have to see you, nor my joy to think it is so near. I have not 
 sleept all this night for it, though I had but five hours' rest the night before, 
 for a reason I shall tell you. I am now going to Kensington to put things 
 in order there, and intend to dine there to-morrow, and expect to hear when 
 I shall sett out to meet you. 
 
 "I had a compliment," writes Mary, "last night, from the queen-dowa- 
 ger [Catharine of Braganza], who came to town on Friday. She sent, I be- 
 lieve, with abetter heart, because Limerick is not taken: for my part, I don't 
 think of that, or any thing but you. God send you a good journey home, 
 and make me thankful as I ought for all his mercies." 
 
 King William arrived at Kensington, September 16, 1690. 
 
1691.] 
 
 MARY II. 
 
 569 
 
 Crown of the time of William and Mury. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The abilities of Queen Mary, and the importance of her 
 personal exertions as sovereign, have been as much under- 
 rated, as the goodness of her heart has been overestimated. 
 She really reigned alone the chief part of the six years that 
 she was Queen of Great Britain. William III., with the ex- 
 ception of the first year of his election to the throne of the 
 British empire, was seldom resident more than four months 
 each season in England. The queen, on his embarking for the 
 Hague, January 6, 1690-1, was left to crush a widely-extend- 
 ed plot for the restoration of her father, and to arrange the 
 still more difficult task of displacing the blameless primate of 
 England, Sancroft, and six most popular prelates. Ken, Turner, 
 White, Lake, Frampton, and Lloyd, Bishop of Norwich, who 
 steadily refused to take the oaths to her and William, or to 
 pray for them as king and queen. 
 
 The very day after William's departure, the trial of Lord 
 Preston and Mr. Ashton took place. Both were found guilty, 
 on slender evidence, and condemned to death. It was report- 
 ed that the daughter of Lord Preston, Lady Catharine Graham, 
 a little girl of but nine years old, saved her father's life by a 
 sudden appeal to the feelings of Queen Mary. The poor child 
 was, during the trial of her father, left at Windsor Castle, 
 where he lately had an establishment. After his condemna- 
 tion, the queen found the little Lady Catharine in St. George's 
 gallery, gazing earnestly on the whole-length picture of James 
 II., which still remains there. Mary asked her hastily, " What 
 she saw in that picture, which made her look on it so intent- 
 
570 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1691. 
 
 ly?" — "I was thinking," said the innocent child, "how hard 
 it is that my father must die for loving yours." 
 
 It is an ungracious task to dispel the illusions that are 
 pleasant to all generous minds. Glad should we be to record 
 a truth that the pardon of Lord Preston sprang from the melt- 
 ing heart of Queen Mary ; but Lord Preston was only spared 
 in order to betray by his evidence the deep-laid ramifications 
 of the plot ; above all, his confessions were made use of to 
 convict his high-spirited coadjutor, young Ashton. 
 
 Far more dangerous was the step Mary took in dispossess- 
 ing Sancoffc, Archbishop of Canterbury, and other disinterest- 
 ed clergy of the Church of England, who refused to take the 
 oaths of allegiance to herself and her spouse. Nor could the 
 queen have succeeded had she not been supported by a stand- 
 ing array, and if that army had not been blended with foreign- 
 ers; it was likewise under the unwonted terrors of the lash, 
 for the system of military flogging was introduced by King 
 William. 
 
 Mary had temporized some time, in expectation that the pos- 
 session of the power and revenues of Canterbury, and, above 
 all, that the aversion which old age ever has to change, would 
 at last shake the principles of Sancroft. As she found that 
 this hope was vain, he was warned to quit Lambeth, February 
 1, 1690-1. Six other learned and disinterested prelates of the 
 Church of England, with seven hundred divines, were deprived 
 by Queen Mary on the same day. Bishop Ken remonstrated, 
 and read a protestation in the market-place of Wells ; he then 
 retired to his nephew, the Rev. Dr. Isaac Walton, who gave 
 him refuge in his prebendal house in Salisbury close. Arch- 
 bishop Sancroft observed, " that he had committed no crime 
 against church or state which could authorize his degradation ; 
 and that if the queen wished for his place at Lambeth, she 
 must send and thrust him out of it by personal violence." 
 lie, however, packed up his books, and waited for that hour. 
 A dead pause ensued. Queen Mary was perplexed as to the 
 person whom she could appoint to fill the archiepiscopal seat 
 of Canterbury. 
 
 King William returned to England to procure supplies of 
 money and troops, April 6, 1691. Whitehall presented only 
 heaps of smoking ruins as he came up the river. The confiagrn- 
 tion which destroyed the palace commenced in the Portsmouth 
 apartments, which had been the original cause of the enmity 
 between the queen and her sister Anne. Mary, who was a 
 very heavy sleeper, had nearly lost her life in the flames. 
 She was dragged, half asleep, in her night-dress into St. James'a 
 
1691.] MARY II. 571 
 
 Pai-k. Here Colonel Oglethorpe and Sir John Fen wick, two 
 gentlemen devoted to her father, seeing her consternation, fol- 
 lowed her through the park to St. James's Palace, reviling her 
 by the lurid light of the flames of Whitehall, and telling her 
 " that her filial sins would come home to her." Their con- 
 duct was certainly in bad taste. 
 
 Since Dr. Tillotson had so readily responded to his call for 
 pecuniary aid at Canterbury, King William had marked him 
 for the highest advancement. However, he left his queen 
 alone to encounter the embarrassments of the change, and 
 sailed for Flanders, May 11. Mary nominated Dr. Tillotson 
 to the primacy, May 31, 1691. She signed a mandate, order- 
 ing Sancroft to quit Lambeth in ten days. This he did not 
 obey ; but he w^as finally expelled from his palace, June 23. 
 He took a boat at the stairs the same evening, and crossed the 
 Thames to the Temple, where he remained in a private house 
 till August, then retired to end his days at Fresingfield, his 
 native village in Sufl:blk, in a cottage which he built there. 
 He lived on his small inheritance of 50/. per annum. 
 
 The Princess Anne, instigated by the restless ambition of 
 her favorite, had requested the order of the Garter, as a reward 
 due to the military merit of Lord Marlborough in Ireland. 
 The queen refused, which exasperated the favorites of her sis- 
 ter into conspiring against the Orange sovereignty ; for Lord 
 Marlborough immediately wn-ote to his former master, declar- 
 ing " that he could neither sleep nor eat in peace, for the remem- 
 brance of his crimes against him." He finished his offers of 
 service by assuring him, " that he w'oukl bring the Princess 
 Anne back to her duty, if he received the least word of en- 
 couragement." Marlborough was one of Mary's council of 
 nine. The perils of the queen's position were therefore great. 
 James H., however, dryly answered to Marlborough " that 
 his good intentions must be proved by deeds rather than 
 words. 
 
 The queen, instead of looking to the real traitors, molested 
 the deprived primate, by sending a commission to Suffolk of 
 inquiry into his proceedings. Her messenger could scarcely 
 refrain from tears, when he found that the venerable archbish- 
 op came to his cottage door himself, because his only attend- 
 ant, an old woman, happened to be ill. The queen, who re- 
 garded her father's friends with marked aversion, showed great 
 animosity to William Penn. An entire stop was put to his 
 philanthropic exertions in the colony of Pennsylvania ; and 
 the good Quaker was forced to hide his head, and skulk about 
 London, as he did in thq persecution of his harmless sect iu 
 
572 QUEENS OF ENGLAND, [1692. 
 
 the days of Charles II. " He could," he said, " conviuce the 
 queen of his fidelity to the government, to which he wished 
 well. James Stuart, though he did not approve of his meas- 
 ures on the throne, was his benefactor ; but he had loved him 
 in his prosperity, and never could speak against him in his ad- 
 versity." This manly defense of his conduct did not prevent 
 William Penn from being a marked man as long as Queen 
 Mary lived. 
 
 Neither King William nor his consort dared openly accuse 
 Marlborough of having abetted the Princess Anne in her at- 
 tempt to eflect a reconciliation with the exiled king; they 
 well knew that such an avowal would have led two-thirds of 
 their subjects to follow that example. The silence of the king 
 and queen on the real delinquencies at the Cockpit, embolden- 
 ed Lady Marlborough to accompany her mistress to court at 
 Kensington. Queen Mary forbade the repetition of the intru- 
 sion, and an angry correspondence ensued between the royal 
 sisters .on the subject. On the return of William III., the 
 Earl of Marlborough was- dismissed rudely from his place of 
 lord of the bed-chamber, and all his preferments were taken 
 from him, but with leave to sell them. To the great indigna- 
 tion of her captive uncle, the Earl of Clarendon, the queen 
 about this time formed a league with her younger uncle, 
 Lawrence, who became her prime minister. He knew the 
 treacheiy of the Marlboroughs, and recommended the queen 
 to oblige Lady Marlborough to retire from Anne's household ; 
 but though strong suspicions existed of the treason of her 
 loi'd, no open law had been broken by the lady. The Princess 
 Anne persisting in retaining her, was herself expelled from 
 the royal residences, and obliged to borrow Sion House of 
 the Duchess of Somerset for her approaching accouchement. 
 King William's return was followed by a regal act that has 
 left a dreadful blot upon his memory, for the massacre of 
 Glencoe took place, February 2, 1692, for which it is certain 
 Mary was not responsible, as she did not fix her signature to 
 a deed commanding the extirpation, in cold blood, of more 
 than a hundred of the Macdonalds, men, women, and childrefi, 
 on suspicion of being loyal to King James. William IIL 
 likewise took away his sister-in-law's guards when she really 
 needed them, having been robbed by highwaymen on the 
 road to Sion. 
 
 Queen Mary was soon left again, surrounded by difiiculties. 
 The French had remained masters of the seas ever since the 
 Revolution, despite the junction of the fleets of England with 
 the forces of Holland. Invasion was expected, and the queen 
 
1692.] MARY II. 573 
 
 had reason to believe that the only naval coraraancler from 
 whose skill she could hope for success was desirous of her fa- 
 ther's restoration ; she likewise knew that the Princess Anne 
 had written to her father, " that she would fly to him the very 
 instant he could make good his landing in any part of Great 
 Britain." Indeed, a letter to James II. containing these words 
 was intercepted by William III. 
 
 But while giving Queen Mary every credit as a wise and 
 courageous ruler in these dangerous times, what can be said 
 of her humanity, when called to the bedside of her suifering 
 sister in the April of that year ? The Princess Anne sent Sir 
 Benjamin Bathurst from Sion House with her humble duty, 
 to inform her majesty " that the hour of her accouchement was 
 at hand, and that she felt very ill indeed, much worse than 
 was usual to her." Queen Mary took no notice of this piteous 
 message, till a Dutch maid of honor came to tell her that her 
 new-born nephew was dead, and the princess's life was in 
 peril. Mary then visited her, and though she said herself 
 how ill Anne looked — pale as the sheet — the queen commenced 
 abruptly a quarrel relative to the expulsion of the Marlbor- 
 oughs. It is certain the public knew not as well as the queen 
 did, and we do now, how treasonably Anne and her favorites 
 were acting against the existing government ; but her con- 
 duct at such a time was unsisterly and odious. 
 
 Long before the Princess Anne Avas convalescent, Lord 
 Marlborough, by her majesty's orders, was arrested, and hur- 
 ried to the Tower. Then the invalid princess harassed her- 
 self by writing, all day long, notes and letters to his wife, 
 who was obliged to leave Sion, in order to visit and assist her 
 husband. The people murmured, but success in battle turned 
 the scale in Mary's favor. The naval victory off La Hogue, 
 won by Admiral Russell, against Tourville's French squadron, 
 occurred May 16, 1692, and was regarded as a national atone- 
 ment for the long series of naval disgraces since the deposi- 
 tion of King James. 
 
 The English fleet arrived at Spithead without the loss of a 
 single ship, and Queen Mary sent 30,000^. in gold to be dis- 
 tributed among the common sailors, and gold medals to be 
 given to the officers. There is a tradition that after the vic- 
 tory of La Hogue, the unfinished shell of the new Palace of 
 Greenwich was ordered by Queen Mary to be prepared for 
 the reception of the wounded seamen ; and that from this cir- 
 cumstance the idea first originated in her mind of the conver- 
 sion of this neglected building into a hospital, similar in plan 
 to her uncle's foundation at Chelsea for veteran soldiers. This 
 
674 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1693. 
 
 was decidedly her best action ; and her truest glory is reflect- 
 ed from the Naval Hospital of Greenwich. 
 
 At the awful crisis of the battle of La Hogue, Mary II. Avas 
 but thirty years of age ; her height, her fully-formed and mag- 
 nificent figure, and, as her poet sings, " the brightness of her 
 eyes," made singularly becoming her royal costume. In the 
 absence of her cynical partner, she took care to derive all pos- 
 sible advantages fiom frequently appearing in the grandeur of 
 royalty ; and kept the enthusiasm of the London citizens at 
 its height by receiving their congratulatory addresses in her 
 royal robes, and seated on her throne in the banqueting-room, 
 and by often reviewing their trained bands and artillery com- 
 panies in person. Nevertheless, there were daik traits mixed 
 with her government : the fate of Anderton, the supposed 
 printer of some tracts in favor of her father, is cited as an in- 
 stance of open tyranny, unexampled since the times of Henry 
 VIII. The printer was brought to trial during the queen's 
 regency of 1693. He made a vigorous defense, in spite of be- 
 ing brow-beaten by Judge Treby, who forced the jury's ver- 
 dict. But when Anderton was put to death for treason in 
 Mary's succeeding regency, ail his jury came under his gal- 
 lows, and severally implored his pardon before the butchery 
 began. 
 
 A settled yet quiet hostility was now established between 
 Mary and Anne ; the latter, divested of every mark of her 
 rank, lived at Berkeley House, where she and her favorite 
 amused themselves with superintending their nurseries, play- 
 ing at cards, and talking treason against Queen Mary and the 
 hero of Nassau. Lady Marlborough wrote all the news she 
 could glean to the com't of St. Germains, where her sister, 
 Lady Tyrconnel, the once beautiful Frances Jennings, was 
 resident. Lady Tyrconnel gossiped back all the intelligence 
 she could, gather at the exiled court. The letters of Marl- 
 borough himself were more actively mischievous. He sent 
 word to the exiled king all the professional information he 
 could betray. James II. refused to act on his intelligence ; he 
 well knew that the exaltation of his grandson, the young Duke 
 of Gloucester, and not the restoration of the Prince of Wales, 
 was the object. The young duke usually inhabited Campden 
 House, close to the queen's palace at Kensington, where his 
 I'oyal aunt was given every opportunity of seeing him. 
 
 One day, just before the king's departure for the campaign 
 in 1694, the little Duke of Gloucester had a grand field-day in 
 Kensington Gardens ; for, by way of encouraging military 
 tastes in his heir, William III. had given him a troop of boys 
 
1694.J MAKY II. 575 
 
 to exercise as soldiers, and on this occasion condescended to 
 review them in Kensington Gardens. The child Gloucester 
 very aftectionately promised his majesty the assistance of 
 liimself and his regiment of urchins for his Flemish war; then 
 turning to Queen Mary eagerly, he said, " My mamma once 
 had guards as well as you ; why has she not them now ?" 
 The queen's surprise was evident and painful. King William 
 presented the young duke's drummer, on the spot, with two 
 guineas, as a reward for the loudness of his music, which 
 proved a seasonable diversion to the awkward question of the 
 young commander. The child must have heard the matter 
 discussed, since he was but a few months old when his mother 
 was deprived of her guards. 
 
 Queen Mary received a visit from her nephew on her birth- 
 day, April 30, 1694. After he had wished her joy, he began, 
 as usual, to prate. There were carpenters at work in the 
 queen's gallery at Kensington, the room in which her majesty 
 stood with the king. The little duke asked the queen " what 
 they were about ?" " Mending the gallery," said Queen 
 Mary, " or it will fall."—" Let it fall, letlt fall," exclaimed he, 
 " and then you must be off to London," — a true indication 
 that he had not been taught to consider their royal vicinity as 
 any great advantage to Campden House. William III. went 
 to visit his nephew at Campden House the following Sunday. 
 It was in vain that Lady Fitzharding, his governess, lectured 
 her charge, and advised him to make the military salute to the 
 king ; not a word would the boy say on that subject until ho 
 had demanded leave of his majesty to fire off his train of mini- 
 ature artillery. The king was rather charmed with this mili- 
 tary mania, so well according with his own. 
 
 Archbishop Sancroft had expired at a cottage on his small 
 Suffolk estate, in his seventy-fourth year, after his peace had 
 been broken by the frequent inquisitorial visits the queen had 
 sent to espy and report his mode of life. It was not long be- 
 fore Mary had to incur the responsibility of appointing, at the 
 will and pleasure of herself and William III., another primate 
 for the Church of England. Soon after William had returned, 
 late in the autumn of 1694, Archbishop Tillotson, when offici- 
 ating before the queen, in the very act of consecrating the 
 sacrament at Whitehall Chapel, November 24, was struck 
 with death, and never spoke again. The royal pair selected 
 Dr. Tennison for the successor of Dr. Tillotson, as primate of 
 the Church of England. 
 
 The queen, for many days, could not mention Tillotson 
 Mithout tears j indeed, since witnessing his mortal stroke, she 
 
576 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1694. 
 
 liad not been well, but became seriously indisposed on the 
 19th of December. She took her usual remedy, and declared 
 herself well the next day. The remedy was a spirituous cor- 
 dial, that the queen took when ill, against which her faithful 
 physician, Dr. Walter Harris, affirms he had vainly warned 
 her that it was many degrees more heating than brandy ; and 
 that such draughts, for a person of her full habit, were like 
 to be fatal ; in fact, her illness returned in the course of a 
 few hours. How truly the queen anticipated the result may 
 be found from her conduct and employment. She sat up 
 nearly all that night in her cabinet, burning and destroying 
 papers, on which she did not wish historians to pass judg- 
 ment. What thoughts, what feelings, must have passed 
 through the brain of Queen Mary on that awful night, thus 
 alone — with the records of her past life, and with approach- 
 ing death ! She finished her remarkable occupations on that 
 night by writing a letter to her husband on the subject of 
 Elizabeth Villiers, which she endorsed, " Not to be delivered, 
 excepting in case of my death," then locked it in the ebony 
 cabinet, in which she usually kept papers of consequence at 
 Kensington Palace. 
 
 Queen Mary was exceedingly indisposed on the day succeed- 
 ing this agitating vigil, being of a full habit and somewhat 
 addicted to good living, which made either small-pox or 
 measles — and her illness was attributed to both — dangerous 
 visitations. 
 
 While these desperate maladies were dealing with Mary, 
 her sister Amie, and Lady Marlborough, at Berkeley House, 
 were startled at the idea of the sudden importance which 
 would accrue to them if her majesty's illness proved fatal. 
 The Princess Anne was herself ill, for dropsical maladies 
 were impairing her constitution, rendering her averse from 
 active exercise. In consequence, she confined herself to the 
 house, frequently I'eclining on a couch. 
 
 No regular intercourse ever took place between the palace 
 at Kensington and Berkeley House, all the intelligence of 
 whatsoever passed in either household was conveyed by the 
 ex-official tattling of servants of the lower grade : laundresses 
 questioned nurses, or ushers carried the tales thus gathered. 
 All was in the dark at the princess's establishment as late as 
 Christmas Day, o. s., respecting the malady of the queen, when 
 Lewis Jenkins, who was Welsh usher to the young Duke of 
 Gloucester, was sent to obtain information of Mrs. Worthing- 
 ton, the queen's laundress, " how her majesty really was." 
 " I was," wrote Jenkins, " transported with hearing she had 
 
1694.] MARY II. 577 
 
 rested well that niglit, and that she had not the small-pox but 
 the measles. I went into the Duke of Gloucester's bed-cham- 
 ber, where I threw up my hat, and said, 'O be joyful !' The 
 ladies asked me ' what I meant ?' I then related the good 
 news ; and the little duke said, ' I am glad of it, with all my 
 heart !' But the next day, when I went to inquire at the 
 palace after the queen, I was informed ' that, in consequence 
 of being let blood, the small-pox had turned black, and that 
 her majesty's death drew near.' I was this day in waiting, 
 and talking over the ill news with Mrs. Wanley, one of the 
 little Duke of Gloucester's women, in a low tone. As he was 
 playing with George Wanley, his royal highness suddenly 
 exclaimed, ' O be joyful !' I hearing this, asked him ' where 
 he learnt that expression ?' — ' Lewis, yoio kno.w,' replied the 
 little duke. ' Sir,' said I, ' yesterday I cried, O be joyful !' — 
 ' Yes,' rejoined the prince ; ' and now, to-day, you may sing, 
 O be doleful !' which I wondered to hear." 
 
 The danger of the queen being thus matter of notoriety 
 throughout the corridors and servants' offices of Campden 
 and Berkeley Houses, the Princess Anne sent the lady of 
 her bed-chamber, entreating her majesty " to believe that she 
 was extremely concerned for her illness ; and that if her 
 majesty would allow her the happiness of waiting on her, she 
 would run any hazard for her satisfaction." The queen's first 
 lady went into the royal bed-chamber and delivered the 
 message to her ma,jesty. A consultation took place. After 
 some time. Lady Derby came out, and replied, " that the 
 king would send an answer the next day." Had the queen 
 wished to be reconciled to her sister, an opportunity was thus 
 presented by Anne, but it was too late. No kind familiar 
 answer was returned from the dying queen to her sister, but 
 the usual formal court notation, from the first lady of her 
 majesty to the lady of the princess. 
 
 Lady Fitzharding undertook to see the queen, and, charged 
 with a dutiful message, "broke in," whether the queen's 
 attendants " would or not ;" and approaching the bed where 
 her majesty Avas, made her speech, declaring " in how much 
 concern the Princess Anne was." The dying Mai-y gasped 
 out " Thanks ;" and the lady went back to her princess with 
 a report that her kind message had been very coldly re- 
 ceived. 
 
 The face of the queen was covered with the most violent 
 erysipelas the Friday before her death. Dr. Walter Harris, 
 wlio sat up with the queen from the seventh night of her ill- 
 ness, in his letter extant describing the dreadful martyrdom 
 
 Z 
 
578 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1694. 
 
 she suffered, attributes these terrific eruptions to the hot 
 doses she swallowed at the first attack. A frightful carbun- 
 cle settled just over the heart ; and sraall-pox pustules, which 
 he compares to plague-spots, are mentioned by him, with 
 other evils which the queen endured, too terrible for general 
 perusal. The physicians declared to the king her husband 
 that there remained no hopes of her life. He received the 
 intelligence with every sign of despair. Archbishop Tenni- 
 son told the king that he could not do his duty faithfully 
 without he acquainted her with her danger. The queen 
 anticipated the communication of the archbishop, but showed 
 no fear or disorder upon it. She said "she thanked God she 
 had always carried this in her mind, that nothing was to be 
 left to the last liour : all she had then to do was to look up to 
 God and submit to his will." She said, " that she had writ- 
 ten her mind on many things to the king ;" and she gave 
 orders " to look carefully for a small escritoire she made use 
 of that was in her closet, Mdiich was to be delivered to the 
 king." Having dispatched that care, she avoided giving 
 h^Mvself or her husband the tenderness which a final parting 
 might have raised in them both. When it is remembered 
 that the casket the queen was thus careful to have put into 
 his hands contained the letter of complaint and reproof 
 written by her at the time of her nocturnal arrangement of 
 her cabinet, it is difficult to consider that Mary died on friend- 
 ly terms with her consort, or that her refusal to bid him fiire- 
 well proceeded from tenderness. 
 
 "The day before she died," says Burnet, " she received the 
 sacrament : all the bishops who were attending were permit- 
 ted to receive it with hei- — God knows, a soirowful company, 
 for we were losing her who was our chief hope and glory on 
 earth." According to this authority, William was present 
 during the last sad scene when " the queen composed herself 
 solemnly to die ;" for he mentions that " she tried once or 
 twice to say something to the king, but could not go through 
 with it. Some words came from her, which showed that her 
 thoughts began to break." The queen's mind, in fact, wan- 
 dered very wildly the day before she expired. The hallucina- 
 tions with which she was disturbed were dreary. Her maj- 
 esty mysteriously required to be left alone with Archbishoj) 
 Tennison, as she had something to tell him, and her chamber 
 was cleared in consequence. The archbishop breathlessly 
 expected some extraordinary communication. The dying 
 queen said, " I wish you to look behind that screen, for Dr. 
 lladcliffe has put a popish nurse upon me, and that woman 
 
1694.] MARY II. 579 
 
 is always listening to what I want to say. Make her go 
 away." 
 
 The popish nurse, which the queen fancied tliat her Jacob- 
 ite physician, Dr. Kadclifte, had " put upon her," was but a 
 pliantotn of delirium. Her father's friends, who were more 
 numerous in her palace than she was aware of, fancied that, 
 instead of describing this spectre to Archbishop Tenuison, 
 she was confessing her filial sins to him. 
 
 It was supposed, on the Sunday evening, that the queen 
 was about to expire, which information was communicated 
 to the king, who fell fainting, and did not recover for half an 
 hour : that day he had swooned thrice. Many of his attend- 
 ants thought that he would die the first. Queen Mary 
 breathed her last, between night and morning, on the 28th 
 of December, 1694, in the sixth year of her reign, and the 
 thirty-third of her age. The moment the breath left her 
 body, the lord chancellor was commanded to break the great 
 seal, and to have another made, on which the figure of 
 William III. was represented solus. 
 
 The tidings of Mary's death was, after three days' delay, 
 announced to her father in France, at St. Gerraains, by a 
 Roman Catholic priest, supposed to belong to Lord jersey, 
 one of William's lords in waiting. James II. observes, in his 
 autobiography, "that many of his partisans fancied that her 
 death would pave the way for his restoration," but he made 
 no additional efforts on that account ; indeed the event only 
 caused him the additional affliction of seeing a child, whom 
 he loved so tenderly, persevere to her death in such a signal 
 state of disobedience and disloyalty, and to find her extolled 
 for crimes, as if they were the highest virtues, by the merce- 
 nary flatterers ai'ound her. " Even Archbishop Tennison 
 reckoned among her virtues," adds King James, " that she had 
 got the better of all duty to her parent in consideration of 
 her religion and her country; and that, even if she had done 
 aught blameworthy, she had acted by the advice of the most 
 learned men in the Church, who were answerable for it, not 
 she. Oh, miserable way of arguing ! fatal to the deceiver 
 and to the deceived." He declared himself " much afflicted 
 at her death, and more at her manner of dying." 
 
 Archbishop Tennison delivered to King William the de- 
 ceased queen's posthumous letter, with her message of re- 
 proof. He added severe lectures to his majesty on the sub- 
 ject of his gross misconduct in regard to Elizabeth Villiers. 
 The king took his freedom in good part, and promised to 
 break off all intimacy with her. 
 
580 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1694. 
 
 Burnet, in the sermon he preached at her interment, ven- 
 tured to praise Mary II. for " filial piety," knowing, as he 
 must have done, better than any one else, how difterently she 
 had conducted herself. He himself has recorded, and blamed, 
 her conduct, at her arrival at Whitehall ; but whether it is 
 true that Mary sat complacently to hear this very man gross- 
 ly calumniate her mother, rests on the word of Lord JDart- 
 mouth. There is one circumstance that would naturally 
 invalidate the accusation, which is, that it was thoroughly 
 against her own interest — a point Avhich Mary never lost 
 sight of; for if Anne Hyde was a faithless wife, what reason 
 had her daughter to suppose that she was a more genuine 
 successor to the British crown than the unfortunate brother 
 whose birth she had stigmatized ? 
 
 The mourning for Mary was deep and universal. Her fu- 
 neral procession was chiefly remarkable on account of the at- 
 tendance of the members of the House of Commons, a circum- 
 stance which it is improbable will ever take place again. A 
 wax effigy of the queen was placed over her coffin, dressed in 
 robes of state, and colored to resemble life. After the funer- 
 al it was deposited in Westminster Abbey ; and in due time 
 that of her husband, William HI., after being in like manner 
 carried on his coffin at his funeral, arrived to inhabit the same 
 glass case. At the extreme ends of a large box, glazed in 
 front, are seen the effigies of Queen Mary and King William. 
 The sole point of union is the proximity of their sceptres, 
 which they hold close together, nearly touching, but at arm's 
 length, over a small altar. The figure of the queen is nearly 
 six feet in height; her husband looks diminutive in comparison 
 to her, and such was really the case, when, as tradition says, 
 he used to take her arm as they walked together. William 
 never raised any monument to his deceased partner. Every 
 funeral memento, either of himself or of her, is contained in 
 the said glass case, which is now shut up, in darkness and 
 desolation, in some nook of Westminster Abbey. 
 
ANNE. 
 
 581 
 
 Queen Anne. From a portrait by Kneller. 
 
 ANNE, 
 
 QUEEN REGNANT OF GREAT BRITAIN. 
 
 The Princess Anne* certainly felt sincere grief for the death 
 of her sister. She wrote to King William, expressing it in 
 terms which his astute advisers considered as affording some 
 opening for personal reconciliation. This Lord Somers as- 
 sured him must be effected, or his uncle would be called to 
 the throne in a few days. " Do what you please, my lords," 
 
 * The former incidents of the life of Queen Anne have been incorporated 
 in that of her sister, Mary II. 
 
582 QUEENy OE ENGLAND. [1G95. 
 
 said the king ; "I am incapable of all business," Anne, who 
 had offered to visit him, was unable to walk, but she came to 
 Carapden House, and from thence was carried in her sedan- 
 chair to Kensington Palace and into the presence-chamber, 
 Lewis Jenkins walking by her, and opening the door of the 
 sedan. The king saluted her there. She told his majesty, in 
 faltering accents, that " she was truly sorry for his loss." 
 The king replied, that "he was much concerned for hers." 
 Neither could refrain from tears, nor speak distinctly. The 
 king then handed the princess into his closet ; she stayed with 
 liim three-quarters of an hour. 
 
 The interview of the bereaved husband and sister took place 
 in the king's private sitting-room or closet. Had it been held 
 in the presence-chamber, many eyes and ears of persons on 
 lawful duty must have witnessed it, and the whole conference 
 would have been matter of history; instead of which, no pai*- 
 ticulars farther than the simple detail of the usher, Lewis, 
 liave ever transpired. But the commonest capacity can divine 
 how the widower-king and his sister-cousin came to an under- 
 standing that the island crowns could never be transmitted to 
 the Duke of Gloucester, Avithout they suppressed all memory 
 of mutual disgusts, and combined their interests against James 
 H. and his son. At this conference the king must have agreed 
 to receive the Earl of Marlborough and his wife into favor. 
 The late queen's jewels were soon after sent to Anne, as a 
 pledge that the reconciliation was complete. 
 
 The young Duke of Gloucester, whose interests were the 
 mainsprings of this domestic pacification, was suffering -with 
 water in the head. At this time he could not walk. His 
 father forced him, on occasions when he refused to move, to 
 go forward by striking him with a rod ; the princess, on the 
 contrary, if she saw him totter in his attempt to cross the 
 room, expressed by the fading of her color and the cold dew 
 breaking on her brow, that her maternal fears amounted to 
 agony. During the spring and summer of the same year Avhen 
 Prince George had forced the imfortunate child to walk, and 
 go up and down stairs without the support his sad malady re- 
 quired, illness attacked him repeatedly, owing to his preter- 
 natural exertions to seem robust and frolicking, when pain 
 and infirmity insisted on their due. His illnesses were attrib- 
 uted to every cause but the true one ; even the smell of some 
 harmless leeks was supposed by the sapient establishment of 
 the prince and princess to have given him a fever. The Prin- 
 cess Anne, as in old times, wore a leek on St. David's Day, 
 and the little Gloucester, to whom a leek had been given to 
 
icon.] ANNE. 583 
 
 put in his hat, was curious regarding the why and wherefore. 
 He was not content with his artificial court-leek of silk and 
 silver, but insisted on seeing the plant. Jenkins, his Welsh 
 usher, was charmed at having an opportunity of introducing 
 the fenious edible of the principality to the notice of the future 
 Prince of Wales. The child played with the bundle of leeks, 
 by tying thera round a toy-ship he had, which was lai'ge enough 
 for his boys to climb the masts: he then, being thoroughly 
 tired, threw himself down and fell asleep. He awoke very ill, 
 and the greatest alarm prevailed at Campden House among 
 the ladies, that the future Prince of Wales had been jDoisoned 
 by the smell of leeks on St. David's Day. Doubtless the Ja- 
 cobites, of whom there were more than one in the household, 
 deemed it a judgment. Dr. Radclifi:e was sent for from Oxford, 
 at fiery speed. The Princess Anne was terrified ; she was not 
 then able to walk, but was carried up into the chamber of her 
 sick son in her sedan-chair, with short poles. Dr. Radclifi:e, 
 when he came, declared that the young duke had a fever. 
 The ladies sought to amuse the little invalid by presents of 
 toys ; wliile the male attendants, who, with his small soldiers, 
 Avere permitted to surround his bed — probably by the desire 
 of the Prince of Denmark, his father — were of the hardening 
 faction, and devised sports of a different nature. The boy-sol- 
 diers were posted as sentinels at his door ; tattoos were flour- 
 ished on the drum, and toy fortifications were built by his 
 bedside. Notwithstanding all this clatter the sick prince re- 
 covered. 
 
 One day her royal highness was receiving a visit at her toi- 
 let from her little son, when he informed her that he was " dry," 
 adding a stable-like expletive. " Who has taught you those 
 words ?" demanded the princess. " If I say Dick Drury," 
 whispered the Duke of Gloucester to one of his mother's ladies, 
 " he will be sent down stairs. Mamma," added he aloud, " I 
 invented them myself." Another time, at one of these toilet- 
 visits, the young prince made use of the expletive, " I vow." 
 The princess his mother demanded " who he had heard speak 
 in that manner?" — "Lewis," replied the duke. "Lewis Jen- 
 kins shall be turned out of waiting, then," said the Princess 
 Anne. " Oh, no, mamma," said the child, " it was I myself did 
 invent that word, now I think of it." Surrounded as the 
 princely boy was with attendants, having a tutor who was a 
 clergyman, likewise a chaplain who called himself his own, he 
 appears to have learned the first elements of the Christian re- 
 ligion by mere accident. Prayers, it is true, were read every 
 day at eleven o'clock by Mr. Pratt, before he took his reading- 
 
584 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1695. 
 
 lesson ; but to these the young duke positively refused to give 
 his attention. That no explanation had been given, satisfac- 
 tory to his infant mind, is apparent by his docility when in- 
 structed by a person who was in earnest. 
 
 Change of air had been recommended by Dr. Radcliffe, in 
 1695. The early reminiscences of the Princess Anne led her 
 to prefer Twickenham ; but she no longer had the command 
 of the old palace of Katharine of Arragon, the dwelling of her 
 grandfather, Clarendon, where she was reared. At last she 
 was offered a pleasant mansion, an adjunct formerly belong- 
 ing to it, opposite to Twickenham Church, held in crown-lease 
 from Catharine of Braganza by Mrs. Davis, an ancient gentle- 
 woman of Charles I.'s court, who was more than eighty years 
 of age. She was great-aunt to the governor of the little piince, 
 Lord Fitzharding, and a devotee of our Anglican Church, liv- 
 ing an ascetic life on herbs and fruit ; she enjoyed a healthy 
 old age. All her hedge-rows slie had caused to be planted 
 with beautiful fruit-trees. The cherries were richly ripe when 
 the princess came to Twickenham, and the hospitable owner 
 gave the princess's people leave to gather as much as they 
 pleased, on the condition "that they were not to break or 
 spoil her trees." The caution was not misplaced, for the young 
 Duke of Gloucester's regiment of boys followed him to Twick- 
 enham ; but their exercises were confined to the little island 
 in the Thames, nearly opposite the church. When the prin- 
 cess had resided at this lady's seat for a month, she told Sir 
 Benjamin Bathurst to take a hundred guineas, and pay for 
 rent and trouble ; but the old lady positively declared she 
 would receive nothing. Sir Benjamin, nevertheless, put the 
 guineas in her lap; but Mrs. Davis rising up, let the gold roll 
 to all corners of the room, leaving the comptroller to gather 
 it up as he might. The Princess Anne was astonished at gen- 
 erosity to which she had been little accustomed. 
 
 There certainly exists instinctive affection between children 
 and aged persons who are devoted to the practice of beneficent 
 piety. Mrs. Davis and the little Duke of Gloucester soon be- 
 came friends. Young, f;xir, and flattering faces were around 
 him; yet, peradventure, the princely infant saw expression 
 beaming from her wrinkled brow that was more attractive to 
 his childish instinct. From the lips of this old recluse he 
 learned the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the Ten Command- 
 ments, and several prayers which she made apparent to his in- 
 fantine intelligence, as he never omitted repeating thd' aspira- 
 tions she had taught him, every night and morning, although 
 Lewis Jenkins remained without the slightest perception of 
 
1690.] ANNE. 585 
 
 the toucljing pvovidence which led the young child to imbibe 
 the knowledge of prayer from the lips of this benevolent 
 recluse of the Church of England. Her religious influence 
 over the neglected mind of the wayward little prince, who 
 had manifested a marked aversion to the worship of God, 
 must have been efi'ected by conversations of vital interest to 
 her young auditor. 
 
 The princess was, one Sunday, preparing to go to Twicken- 
 ham Church, when her little son came to her, and preferred a 
 request to go with her for the first time. When he received 
 her permission, he ran to " my lady governess, Fitzhai-ding, 
 who was," observes Lewis, "as witty and pleasant a lady as 
 any in England." The Duke of Gloucester told her that he 
 was going to Twickenham Church Avith his mamma. My 
 Lady Fitzharding asked him, " if, when there, he would say 
 the Psalms?" which hitherto he had hated. "I will sing 
 them," replied he. The tendency of his thoughts to Divine 
 service was soon apparent at his usual visits to his mother's 
 toilet. " Mamma," said he, " why have you two chaplains, 
 and I but one ?" " Pray," asked the Princess Anne, by way 
 of averting one of the difficult questions often put by children, 
 " what do you give your one chaplain ?" The little duke 
 must have heard the fact that it is an unpaid office by his re- 
 ply, though he was unconscious that it was a repartee. 
 "Mamma," said he, "I give him — his liberty." At which 
 answer the princess laughed heartily, and often repeated it as 
 an instance of royal benevolence to the Church of England. 
 
 When the Duke of Gloucester was brought back to Camp- 
 den House, he found all his small soldiers posted as sentinels 
 on guard ; they received him, to his great pleasure, Avith pre- 
 sented arms and the honors of war. Their exercises were 
 occasionally transferred to Wormwood Scrubs. Plere the 
 young prince was walking one morning for the air, with " a 
 pistol in his hand :" he fell down, and hurt his forehead against 
 it. The ladies were very full of pity regarding his hurt ; he 
 told them " that a bullet had grazed his forehead, but that, as 
 a soldier, he could not cry when wounded." 
 
 The faithful Welsh usher of the young duke privately gave 
 him some practical lessons in fencing, fortification, geometry, 
 and mathematics. The child ran to his mother every day to 
 display his acquisitions in her dressing-room ; nothing but re- 
 proof accrued to Lewis. Mr, Pratt considered his office in- 
 vaded, and " my lady governess" Fitzharding was enraged at 
 the vei-y idea of " the mathematics," which she took for some 
 species of conjuration — an absurd foct ruefully related by the 
 
 Z* 
 
580 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [IGOr,. 
 
 poor Welshman. " One day, the young Duke of Gloucester 
 pulled a paper out of my pocket," says Lewis, "on which 
 were some problems in geometry. He looked it over, and 
 found some triangles. 'Lewis,' said he, 'I can make these.' 
 ' No question of that,' I replied, not much attending to what 
 he said." It must have been this unlucky paper, carried oif 
 by the little prince to the toilet of the Princess Anne, that 
 excited the wrath of Lady Fitzharding; for, the same day, 
 having superintended the dinner of the young prince her 
 charge, she sailed out of the room, with Lewis Jenkins carry- 
 ing her train: while they were thus progressing down stall's, 
 the courtly dame, turning her head over her shoulder, said dis- 
 dainfully to her train-bearer, " Lewis, I find you pretend to 
 give the duke notions of mathematics and stuff.'''' He answer- 
 ed this accusation by saying, meekly, " I only repeated stories 
 from history, to assist the young duke in his plays." Another 
 angry glance askance over l)er shoulder was darted by the lady- 
 governess on the hapless usher. "Pray," asked she, " where 
 did you get your learning ?" However, the lady's wrath was 
 somewhat appeased by her lord, who told her "that Lewis 
 Jenkins was a good youth, had read much, and did not mean 
 any harm." Lord Fitzharding, ho\vever, was commissioned 
 by the Princess Anne to hinder Lewis from teaching her son 
 any thing, "because it would injure him when he was learning 
 fortification, geometry, and other sciences according to the 
 regular methods." The princess had no sooner given this 
 prohibition, than she saw her young son putting himself into 
 fencing attitudes. " I thought I had forbidden your people to 
 fence with you," observed her royal highness. " Oh, yes, 
 mamma," replied the child ; " but I hope you will give them 
 leave to defend themselves when I attack them." Thus it is 
 evident that the poor little prince, although delicate, was, 
 when relieved from the pressure of actual pain, high-spirited 
 and lively. Unlike his parents, he showed indifl^erence to food. 
 His nurse, Mrs. Wanley, was forced to sit by him at his meals, 
 for he would turn from the food she presented, and pick up 
 crumbs in preference to solid nourishment. His tutor, Pratt, 
 passed through the room, and said reprovingly, " You pick 
 crumbs as if you were a chicken." " Yes, yes," replied the 
 child; "but Fm a chick o' the game, though !" The tutor 
 was an object of the princely boy's aversion, whose dislike to 
 hear him read prayers amounted to antipathy. He used to 
 beg Mrs. Wanley to have the prayers shortened, yet he was 
 quite willing to repeat those his old friend at Twickenham 
 had tau2,ht him. 
 
1696.] ANNE. 587 
 
 The Princess Anne enjoyed during tlie summer, at least in 
 the regard of tlie people, the dignity of first lady of England ; 
 but the return of the king, her brother-in-law, in October, 
 1695, did not increase her tranquillity or happiness. His maj- 
 esty's arms were more successful than usual ; but many symp- 
 tons betokened that the royal temper was in a painful state 
 of exasperation. Namur, it is true, had fallen into his posses- 
 sion, gained at an awful cost of blood and treasure ; but no 
 warrior was ever more ashamed of defeat than King William 
 was at the flood of congratulatory addresses on this victory, 
 which were poured on him from every town in England. 
 His majesty distributed sarcasms on all sides by way of 
 answers. 
 
 Anne was passing the Christmas recess with her husband 
 and little son at Campden House, when surprised by a visit 
 from King William. His majesty made in person the an- 
 nouncement that the princess and her household could take 
 possession of the Palace of St. James's, and that, a Garter 
 being at his disposal, he intended to bestow it on the Duke 
 of Gloucester. Bishop Burnet followed the royal visit, say- 
 ing that a chapter would be held on the 6th of January for 
 the admission of the young prince. He asked if the thoughts 
 of it did not make him glad? "I am gladder of the king's 
 favor," was the discreet answer of the early wise child. One 
 of the objects of the princess's ambition in her son's behalf 
 was accomplished by this investment, for which the Prince of 
 Denmark took the child in state to Kensington Palace on the 
 appointed day, January 6, 1696-7. William IH. buckled on 
 the Garter with his own hands, an office which is commonly 
 performed by one of the knights-companions, at the mandate 
 of the sovereign. 
 
 The education of the Duke of Gloucester proceeded in a 
 somewhat desultory manner; but he could read well and write 
 respectably for his age, and even read writing. His intellect- 
 ual information was obtained from his Welsh attendant, who 
 was not a little astonished when her royal highness in person 
 forbade him to relate to her son any historical narratives what- 
 soever. Perhaps Anne Avas alarmed lest her son should hear 
 the names of her unfortunate father and brother. 
 
 The Princess Anne, according to the gracious invitation of 
 the king, took possession of St. James's Palace early in the 
 spring of 1696. The spring and summer of that year proved 
 to be the most hopeful and prosperous period of the existence 
 of the Princess Anne, if not the happiest. For the first time 
 she appeared to enjoy, with prospect of permanence, the fruits 
 
588 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G96. 
 
 of her struggles against her father at the epoch of the Revo- 
 lution. The palace of her ancestors was now her residence; 
 her rank was recognized, and her cousin-brother-in-law no 
 longer dared deprive her of her subsistence, as he had done 
 in 1688 and 1689. 
 
 While enjoying all the homage and pleasures of their fully- 
 attended courts at St. James's Palace, her son remained at 
 Campden House. On Sunday evenings the princess ordered 
 that her son and the boys of his small regiment were to attend 
 Mr. Pratt, for the purpose of being catechised respecting their 
 knowledge of Scripture. The young Duke of Gloucester was, 
 on these occasions, exalted on a chair above the rest of the 
 catechumens, with a desk before him ; his boys were ranged 
 on benches below; those of them who answered satisfactorily 
 were rewarded with a new shilling. Lewis Jenkins, who was 
 in waiting one evening, heard Mr. Pratt question the young 
 duke : " How can you, being born a prince, keep yourself 
 from the pomps and vanities of this Avorld ?" The princely 
 catechumen answered, "I will keep God's commandments, and 
 do all I can to walk in his ways." 
 
 The possession of St. James's Palace did not constitute the 
 only reward that the Princess Anne received for her pacifica- 
 tion with William HI. The regal fortress of Windsor Avas 
 appointed her summer abode, and thither she went Avith her 
 husband and son. 
 
 The young Duke of Gloucester had never beheld Windsor 
 before ; his mother ordered him to be led to his own suite of 
 apartments, but he complained that his presence-chamber Avas 
 not large enough to exercise his soldiers in. The housekeeper, 
 Mrs. Randee, attended the young duke, to show him the royal 
 apartments in the castle, Avhen he begged St. George's Hall 
 to fight his battles in. The pi'incess sent to Eton, and invited 
 four of the scholars to visit her son: young Lord Churchill, 
 the only son of her faA'orites, Lord and Lady Marlborough, 
 was one; the other Etonians Avere two Bathursts and Peter 
 BoscaAven. The young duke eagerly proposed that a battle 
 should fortliAvilh be fought in St. George's Hall, and sent for 
 his collection of small pikes, muskets, and swords. The music- 
 gallery and its stairs Avere to represent a castle, Avhich he 
 meant to besiege and take. Mrs. Atkinson, his nurse, and 
 Lewis Jenkins were expected to take part in the fray ; they 
 begged young BoscaAven to be the enemy, charging him to 
 take care not to hurt the duke Avith the Avarlike implements. 
 Peter Bathurst Avas not quite so considerate ; he gave the 
 Duke of Gloucester a wound in the neck that drew blood. 
 
169G.] ANNE. 589 
 
 The cliilcl said nothing of the accident in the heat of the on- 
 slaught, but when Lewis stopped tlio battle to inquire whether 
 the duke was hurt, he replied "No," and continued to pur- 
 sue the enemy up the stairs into their garrison, leaving the 
 floor of St. George's Hall strewed with make-believe dying and 
 dead. When all was over, he asked " ma'm Atkinson" if she 
 had a surgeon at hand. " Oh, yes, sir," said she, as usual, for 
 the dead were revived in the young prince's sham-fights by 
 blowing wind into them with a pair of bellows. "Pray make 
 no jest of it," said the young duke, "for Peter Bathurst has 
 really wounded me in the battle." There was no serious hurt 
 inflicted by young Bathurst, but sufiicient to have made a less 
 high-spirited child of seven years old stop the whole sport. 
 The young duke was taken iu the afternoon to see the Round 
 Tower. 
 
 The Princess Anne usually walked in Windsor Park with 
 her husband and the little prince her son, before the child 
 went to his tutor for lessons. Once the boy alarmed her by 
 rolling down the slope of the dry ditch of one of the castle 
 fortifications, declaring that when he was engaged in sieges 
 he must use himself to such j^laces. His father, Prince George, 
 permitted the performance of this gymnastic next day. It 
 was always the idea of the Prince of Denmark, that by violent 
 and hardening exercises his child's tendency to invalidism 
 (which he considered was nurtured by the over-fondness of 
 the princess, and the jjetting and sj)oiling of her ladies) might 
 be overcome. 
 
 Hostility was soon after renewed by William IH. to Anne, 
 because he guessed that it was at her instigation the House 
 of Commons entered severely into the subject of the vested 
 rights of the Princes of Wales, which the childless Dutch sover- 
 eign had granted to his countryman and favorite, Bentinck, 
 Earl of Portland, and his heirs forever. At last his majesty 
 paid a visit, not to Anne, but to her son at Campden House ; 
 the young duke received his majesty under arras, and saluted 
 him with military honors. King William, who was fond of 
 children, asked him, "Whether he had any horses yet?" 
 " Yes," replied the little duke ; " I have one live horse, and 
 two dead ones." The king laughed at him sarcastically for 
 keeping dead horses, and then informed him "that soldiers 
 always buried their dead horses out of their sight." The lit- 
 tle duke had designated his wooden horses as dead ones, in 
 contradistinction to the Shetland pony, "no bigger than a 
 mastift'," which occasionally carried him. He insisted on bury- 
 ing his wooden horses out of his sight, directly the royal visit 
 
590 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1G9G. 
 
 was concluded. This lie did with great ceremony, and even 
 composed some lines of childish doggerel as epitaph. 
 
 William III. had presented the princess with the jewels of 
 her sister. Anne, who w-as always remarkable for her mod- 
 eration regarding these sparkling baubles, did not choose to 
 adorn her own person with them, but amused herself by de- 
 vising for her young son a marvelous suit of clothes to appear 
 in at court on her birthday, celebrated February 6, at St. 
 James's Palace. The coat was azure-blue velvet. All the 
 button-holes were encrusted with diamonds, and the buttons 
 were composed of great brilliants. Thus ornamented and 
 equipped, with a flowing white periwig, the prince of seven 
 summers made his bow in his royal mother's circle at St. 
 James's to congratulate her on her birthday, and receive him- 
 self the adorations of the sparkling crowd of peers and beauties. 
 In such costume the young duke is depicted by Kneller, at 
 Hampton Court. Notwithstanding the owlisli periwig with 
 which his little highness is oppressed, he is really pretty: Ins 
 complexion is of pearly fairness, his eyes very blue, with a touch- 
 ing expression of reflectiveness. The features of the heir of 
 the Princess Anne ■were like those of her Stuart ancestors ; ho 
 as nearly resembled his unfortunate uncle and rival, the exiled 
 Prince of Wales, as if he had been his brother, excepting that 
 he had the blonde Danish complexion. 
 
 Tiie ladies of the Princess Anne had scarcely finished ad- 
 miring her idolized boy, when King W^illiam himself arrived 
 to ofter his congratulations on her birth-night, and the j'oung 
 Duke of Gloucester was led by his proud mother to claim the 
 attention of his majesty. The king said to him, with sarcastic 
 abruptness, " You are very fine." — " All the finer for you, sir," 
 was the undignified reply of the princess, alluding to the jewel 
 of the George, a present that her son had received from the 
 king, and the donation of Queen Mary's jewels to herself, of 
 the value of 40,000^., with which the child stood loaded before 
 them. The princess then uiged the Duke of Gloucester to re- 
 turn thanks to his majesty ; but the boy, albeit so fluent on 
 all other occasions, contented himself by making a low bow 
 to the king, nor could his mother prevail on him to speak ; 
 probably the young prince had been disconcerted by the tone 
 and expression of the king's above-quoted remark, and in- 
 stinctively felt that the least said on the subject was best. 
 
 The princess passed the autumn at Tunbiidge Wells, ac- 
 companied by her son. Here the young duke, under the care 
 of his clerical tutor, Pratt, studied fortification. The employ- 
 ment of the Duke of Gloucester's tutor at Tunbridge did not 
 
](;!>: 3 ANNE. 591 
 
 s:iYor much of matters divine ; for, by the leave of tlie prin- 
 eess, lie made " a pentagon," with all the outworks, in a 
 wood, near the Wells, " which answered so well," says Lewis 
 Jenkins, " as to gain Dr. Pratt much credit, by doing, in fact, 
 what did not properly belong to his cloth or his office." At 
 the same time, Lewis Jenkins, in high dudgeon at the afore- 
 said pentagon made by the bellicose divine. Dr. Pratt, and, 
 " from some such like discouragements," resigned his appoint- 
 ment in the service of the princess. Assuredly, the tuition of 
 the young prince was conducted somewhat by the rules of 
 contradiction. The doctor of divinity, provided by her royal 
 highness to inculcate devotional precepts, was only successful 
 in imparting to him matters connected with military science. 
 An old lady, whose concern with the princess was only to ac- 
 connnodate her and her family with the use of her house, in- 
 structed her child in all he practically knew of religion, while 
 his door-keeper gave him notions of " history and mathemat- 
 ics ;" to which may be added, that from his mother's chair- 
 meti and his father's coachmen he imbibed the vulgar tongue, 
 and they taught him, Avithal, to box. Such was the under- 
 current of affairs, while on the surface other statements have 
 passed down the stream of history. 
 
 On the anniversary of their wedding-day, 1697, her royal 
 highness came with her consort Prince George earlier than 
 usual, and found her son very lively and full of spirits, super- 
 intending the firing of his little cannon in honor of the day. 
 lie had four pieces, which had been made for him in the life- 
 time of his aunt. Queen Mary ; one of these was defective, one 
 had burst, the loss of which he had lamented to King Wil- 
 liam, who promised him a new one — a promise which he 
 never performed. Of course the king totally forgot the cir- 
 cumstance, but the child did not. At Windsor, however, 
 there was found a beautiful little model cannon, which had 
 been made by Prince Rupert ; of this the young Duke of 
 Gloucester took possession, with infinite satisfiiction. The 
 ])rincess was saluted by the discharge of these toy cannons 
 when she entered the room ; but as her son indulged her with 
 three rounds, her maternal fears were gi'eatly awakened by 
 seeing so much gunpowder at his command, and she privately 
 determined that the case should be altered for the future. 
 "He now," adds the usher, "though he had but completed 
 his seventh year, began to be more wary in what he said, and 
 would not chatter all that came into his head, but utter dry 
 remarks with some archness." 
 
 The Princess Anne could not endure patiently the appoint- 
 
592 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1698. 
 
 ment of Bishop Burnet as her son's preceptor. Her royal 
 highness was heard to complain, " that she considered it was 
 the greatest liardship ever put upon her by the king, who well 
 knew how. she disliked Burnet, and that she was sure he was 
 chosen for that very reason." Parliament, after the peace of 
 Ryswick, had allotted 50,000?. for the educational establish- 
 ment of the Duke of Gloucester, and the nation anxiously 
 awaited its commencement. All was, however, left to be ar- 
 ranged at the pleasure of William. 
 
 No entreaties of the princess could induce his majesty to 
 allow more than 15,000?., although he had pocketed, ever 
 since the peace of Ryswick, 50,000?. for the educational allow- 
 ance. The princess solicited that a sm.all part of this portion 
 might be advanced, that she might purchase plate and furni- 
 ture needful for her son's extended establishment, William 
 III. positively refused to advance her a doit ; yet the Princess 
 Anne was prepared to submit to all losses, so that her boy 
 was not withdrawn from her personal care. The king, in 
 order to lighten these hardships, appointed tlie Earl of Marl- 
 borough his chief governor. 
 
 In the spring of 1698 occurred an event, apparently of little 
 consequence to the Princess Anne, being nothing more than 
 the appointment of a destitute servant-maid, a daughter of 
 Lady Marlborough's aunt, to a humble service in her palace, 
 for Abigail Hill was the near kinswoman of the haughty fa- 
 vorite. When Lady Marlborough was established at the 
 Cockpit, at the time of the marriage of the princess, a lady 
 represented to her that she had near relations who were in 
 the most abject misery. At first the favorite denied that she 
 liad ever heard of such persons. She was, however, remind- 
 ed that her father's sister had married an Anabaptist trades- 
 man, whose bankruptcy had left his family in a starving con- 
 dition, the parents being at the point of death ; that her two 
 young sons were in rags, and her daughters were servant- 
 maids. Lady Marlborough sent ten guineas for the relief of 
 her wretched aunt, who expired directly after the assistance 
 arrived. The appeal had not been made, it seems, till the last 
 extremity, for the husband died soon after it arrived. Abi- 
 gail Hill was then withdrawn by her fortunate kinswoman 
 from servitude with Lady Rivers, and given bitter bread as 
 her own nursery-maid. Meantime, her brothers, the ragged 
 boys, were caught from the street, clothed and provided for 
 from the rich harvest of the Marlborough patronage. The 
 elder Hill was placed in the customs ; the younger. Jack Hill, 
 was advanced to be a page to Prince Geoi'ge of Denmark. 
 
1700.] ANNE. 593 
 
 * 
 
 When the household of the young Duke of Gloucester was 
 established, Lady Marlborough put her cousin, Mary Hill, itito 
 the place of laundress, with 200?. per annum ; but for the su- 
 perintendent of her nursery, Abigail, she reserved the place of 
 bed-chamber-woman to the Princess Anne, and thus was 
 enabled to have a deputy who could perform all her own of- 
 fices when she chose to absent herself. 
 
 Since the advancement of Lord Marlborough to the office 
 of governor to the Duke of Gloucester, his lady had lost the 
 caressing devotion she had hitherto manifested for the Prin- 
 cess Anne. Sometimes the aggrieved princess would let fall 
 a word or two of complaint before the silent substitute of 
 Lady Marlborough, and when she found that no tale was ever 
 carried to Abigail's principal, and above all, that no gossip 
 story was raised in the court, the confidence was extended, 
 and condolences on her favorite's fiery temper were ex- 
 changed. Such was the commencement of the intimacy be- 
 tween the Princess Anne and tlie humble Abigail Hill, and 
 such the domestic politics of the palace of St. James. 
 
 The piincess removed to Windsor Castle before May, 1700. 
 Her son had been examined regarding his progress in educa- 
 tion by four of the regents who governed England in the fre- 
 quent absences of William IH., and his answers on jurispru- 
 dence, Gothic law, and feudality had perfectly astonished them. 
 This abstruse pedantry had not agreed with his health ; and 
 his anxious mother gladly withdrew him to Windsor for 
 recreation. His eleventh birthday was there kept with more 
 than usual festivity. 
 
 The boy reviewed his juvenile regiment, and exulted in the 
 discharge of cannon and crackers. He was very much heated 
 and fatigued, and probably had been induced to intrench on 
 his natural 'abstemiousness. The next day he complained of 
 sickness, headache, and a sore throat; toward night he became 
 delii'ious. The family physician of the princess sought to re- 
 lieve him by bleeding, but this operation did not do him any 
 good. Dr. Radclifte was sent for by express. When he ar- 
 rived at Windsor Castle and saw his poor little patient, he 
 declared the malady to be the scarlet fever. He demanded 
 "who had bled him?" The physician in attendance owned 
 the duke had been bled by liis order. "Then," said Radcliffe, 
 you have destroyed him ; and you may finish him, for I will 
 not prescribe." The event justified the prediction of the most 
 skillful physician of the age. The unfortunate princess attend- 
 ed on her dying child very tenderly, but with a resigned and 
 grave composure which astonished every one. She gave way 
 
594 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1700. 
 
 to no violent bursts of agony, never wept, but seemed occn- 
 pied with high and awful thoughts. In truth, she was debat- 
 ing, with an awakened conscience, on the past, and meditating 
 on the retributive justice of God. Lord Marlborough was 
 summoned from Althorpe to the sick-bed of his young charge, 
 but arrived only in time to see him expire. The death of 
 the young duke took place July 30, 1 'ZOO, five days after his 
 birthday. 
 
 The thoughts of Anne were wholly and solely fixed on her 
 father. All she felt as a parent reminded her of her crimes 
 toward him. She rose from the bed where was extended the 
 corpse of her only child, with an expression of awe and resig- 
 nation on her features which made a solemn impression on the 
 minds of all who saw her, and sat down to write to her father, 
 pouring out in her letter her whole heart in penitence, and de- 
 claring her conviction that her bereavement was sent as a 
 visible punishment from heaven for her cruelty to him. It 
 does not appear that Anne had ever felt the slightest touch 
 of real penitence at any previous period. William III. was 
 aware of Anne's letter within a short time of its delivery; and 
 his anger must have caused his strange conduct when the 
 death of his heir-presumptive was officially announced to him. 
 He never took the slightest notice of it; never ordered mourn- 
 ing or funeral. The child lay unburied for months, this per- 
 versity greatly aggravating the aftliction of the unfortunate 
 mother. In October the king wrote three lines in answer to 
 the announcement of Marlborough, but not one word of com- 
 miseration to the unhappy parents. Then ensued paltry 
 squabbles regarding the payments of the young prince's 
 household, which his mother, in her unhealed anguish not be- 
 ing able to bear, took upon herself. 
 
 Other troubles pressed sorely on Anne after the death of 
 Gloucester. Her power dwindled very low in consequence 
 of his loss ; the insolence of the fiivorite she had raised so 
 high became unbearable. Once she was alone and perfectly 
 silent in her private sitting-room at St. James's, when Lady 
 Marlborough, coming into the ante-room, took up a pair of 
 gloves lying on the table, and, supposing them her own, put 
 them on. Abigail, who was in attendance there, mentioned 
 that the gloves belonged to her royal highness. " Ah !" ex- 
 claimed Lady Marlborough, as she tore them off and threw 
 them on the ground, "have I touched any thing that has been 
 on the hands of that odious woman. Take them away !" 
 The door was ajar where the princess was sitting perfectly 
 still ; the favorite's voice was loud in the eflfervesceuce of 
 
1702.] ANNE. 695 
 
 causeless ill temper. Abigail Hill saw at a glance, when she 
 entered Anne's closet, that the whole had been overheard. 
 She spoke not to the princess, who was likewise silent, and 
 Lady Marlborough, leaving the ante-room without being 
 aware of the vicinity of her outraged mistress, never knew the 
 offense she had given, and she ever after vainly sought the 
 reason of her change of manner. Anne had scarcely laid aside 
 her mourning for her only child, when she had to renew it for 
 the death of her father. 
 
 When the news of the death of James II. arrived in Lon- 
 don, public curiosity was greatly excited regarding the cogni- 
 zance which would be taken of it by his nephew and daughter. 
 William heard it at his dinner-table at Loo, in Holland, with 
 flushing cheek and downcast eyes; he pulled his hat over his 
 brows, and sat in moody silence the livelong day. If he were 
 wrestling with a yearning heart, which told him that his earli- 
 est friend and nearest relative was gone where treachery 
 could never find him more, he won the victory, as the subse- 
 quent attainder of his young cousin, a boy of thirteen years 
 old, fully proved. He went into deep mourning himself for 
 James II., and all his coaches were black. 
 
 The career of William III. was brief after this event. His 
 as'Jnna increased : he felt the decay of the feeble body, which 
 his active mind disavowed. Yet his actual demise was occa- 
 sioned by an accident. He rode into the Home Park of 
 Hampton Court, February 21, 1702 ; just as he came by the 
 head of the two canals, opposite to the Ranger's park-pales, 
 his pony happened to tread in a mole-hill, and fell. '"Tis a 
 strange thing," he said musingly, "for it happened on smooth 
 level ground"" King William thus took his death-hurt within 
 sight of the entrance of Hampton Court Palace. The work- 
 men employed on a canal he was having excavated raised the 
 overthrown monarch, and assisted him to the palace. He af- 
 firmed that he was very slightly hurt ; but Ronjat, his surgeon, 
 who was there, found he had broken his right collar-bone. 
 When Ronjat had set the fractured collar-bone of the king, he 
 earnestly recommended to him rest. William made light of 
 the accident, declared that he must go to Kensington that 
 night, and go he would and did. The bone was displaced, 
 and had to be reset. For some days he suffered mortally with 
 spasms ; perhaps the attainder of his young cousin, James Stu- 
 art, a boy of only thirteen, agitated him, as the cramps seized 
 liim on the riglit shoulder wliile the bill was stamped in his 
 chamber, his hurt preventing him from holding the pen. 
 
 The Princess Anne sent, in the course of March 6, to Ken- 
 
596 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1702. 
 
 sington Palace a dutiful message to the king, entreating per- 
 mission to see him in his bed-chamber. It was answered by 
 himself, who collected his strength sufficiently to pronounce a 
 short and rude " No !" The Prince of Denmark actually made 
 many attempts to enter the king's chamber, but met with as 
 many downright repulses. 
 
 His majesty had desired to see his old friend, Bentinck, 
 Lord Portland, who, it is well known, never came to court aft- 
 er the period of the peace of Ryswick, excepting on a special 
 message. He came on the Saturday evening. The king was 
 likewise anxiously looking for the arrival of his young favorite, 
 Keppel, Earl of Albermarle, being very desirous of saying 
 something in confidence to him. When he arrived, the king 
 gave him the keys of his escritoire, and bade him take posses- 
 sion, for his private use, of 20,000 guineas. He directed him 
 to destroy all the letters that would be found in a cabinet 
 which he named. Keppel was extremely eager to give his 
 royal master information of his preparations for the commence- 
 ment of war; but, for the first time, the departing warrior 
 listened to tlie antici2)ations of battle with a cold dull ear. 
 All the comment he made was comprised in these impressive 
 words, tlie last he uttered distinctly : " Je tire vers ma Jin" — 
 " I draw toward my end ;" they were his last words. 
 
 Just as the clock struck eight William IH. drew his last breath. 
 Pie expired very gently in the arms of his page, Sewel, who sat 
 behind his pillow supporting him. The lords in waiting, the 
 Earls of Scarborough and Lexington, no sooner perceived that 
 the sjnrit had departed, than they told Ronjat, the surgeon, 
 to unbind from the wrist of the royal corpse a black ribbon 
 which fiistened a bracelet of Queen Mary's hair, close on the 
 pulse. It was an outrage to tear from the arm of the breath- 
 less warrior his memorial so long cherished and so secretly 
 kept. If William had not through life scorned the language 
 of poetry, his newly separated spirit might have sympathized 
 with the exquisite lines of that true j)oet, Crashaw — 
 
 " Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm 
 Or question much 
 The subtile wreath of hair about mine arm : 
 The mystery, the sign, thou must not touch !" 
 
 William III. expired early on Simday morning, March 8, 
 1702, in his fifty-second year. He had reigned five years in 
 co-regality with his queen, Mary 11. , and more than eight years 
 alone. 
 
1702.] 
 
 ANNE. 
 
 597 
 
 Coin of Queen Anne. Gold Crown. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Anxious vigils had been held at St. James's Palace since the 
 last rude repulse had been given by the dying king to the 
 visit of his heiress-expectant and her husband, at Kensington ; 
 agents in their interest were, however, busy about his death- 
 bed. The Princess Anne and Sarah of Marlborough sat in 
 momentary expectation of the event on Sunday, March 8, re- 
 ceiving frequently hurried notes from Lord Jersey, the king's 
 lord chamberlain, describing how the breath of William III. 
 grew shorter, until the final cessation announced that the 
 princess was queen. 
 
 The sun was as bright and glaring as ever shone on a clear 
 March morning : as this was an unusually fine day, it was long 
 remembered by the people as the " Bright Accession Sunday." 
 The queen received in her presence-chamber at St. James's the 
 persons whom she considered entitled to her levee. Among 
 others, her uncle, the Earl of Clarendon, was seen pressing 
 through the throngs in the ante-chamber. He desired of the 
 lord in waiting " admittance to his niece." The message was 
 delivered to her majesty, who sent Avord to him, " that if he 
 Avould go and qualify himself to enter her presence, she Avould 
 be very glad to see hitn." Her meaning was, " that if he 
 chose to take the oath of allegiance to her, as his legitimate 
 sovereign, she was willing to admit him." In fact, her lord 
 in waiting demanded, " if he were willing to take the oath to 
 Queen Anne ?" — " No," replied Clarendon ; " I come to talk 
 to my niece. I shall take no other oaths than I have taken." 
 Clarendon's errand was evidently to recall Anne's promises 
 made at the death of her son. Her other uncle, Lord Roches- 
 
598 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1703. 
 
 ter, was more pliable ; lie had been one of the state ministers 
 of Queen Mary, and was destined by Anne to have the chief 
 share in her government. 
 
 The queen went in solenm state to the House of Lords March 
 11 : slie was attended in her coach by the Countess of Marl- 
 borough, who was made mistress of the robes. The commons 
 were sent for, and the queen addressed them in that sweet, 
 thrilling voice, for which siie was remarkable, earnestly recom- 
 mending the union between England and Scotland in these 
 words : "As I know my own heart to be entirely English, I 
 can very sincerely assure you there is not any thing you can de- 
 sire from me which I shall not be ready to do for the prosper- 
 ity of England." The queen retired to Windsor, while St. 
 James's Palace was completely hung with black. At the same 
 time it was ordered, "that the very deep mourning was to 
 cease after her coronation." Her proclamation took place at 
 Edinburgh, as Anne, Queen of Scotland. 
 
 Influenced, as supposed, by her youngest uncle, the queen 
 sought reconciliation with Bishop Ken, who was considered 
 the head of the Anglican Church. She sent to inform him 
 that he could return to his see, and Dr. Kidder, whom her 
 sister had placed in his bishopric, would be translated to the 
 vacant bishopric of Carlisle. Ken declined, on account of his 
 age and infirmities, to resume his old episcopal functions, 
 although he had for many years performed his ministrations 
 privately in cottages or by the way-side. He had found a 
 peaceful asylum at Longleate, with his friend Lord Weymouth, 
 and occasionally with his nephew Dr. Isaac Walton, in Salis- 
 bury close. As Ken declined resuming the See of Bath and 
 Wells, Dr. Kidder remained there till the dreadful hurricane 
 of November 3, 1703, when he and his lady were killed by the 
 fall of the stack of chimneys on their bed. 
 
 The queen then nominated Dr. Hooper to the bishopric of 
 Bath and Wells; but he recommended her majesty to confer 
 it on Ken. It Avas again offered Ken, but he again declined 
 it, and. pressed his friend Ilooper to accept it, which he did. 
 Queen Anne finally induced Ken to accept a pension for his 
 support in his old age. 
 
 The coronation took place April 23, o. s. 1702, St. George's 
 Day. Queen Anne, as gouty infirmity of her feet had again 
 afilicted her, was carried in all the processions in a low arm- 
 chair ; the train of her robes hanging over the back was borne 
 by her ladies. She was the only infirm person who ever re- 
 ceived the English crown. The manifesto of war against 
 France, issued May 4, 1702, was received by Louis XIV. with 
 
1703.] ANNE. 599 
 
 a hon-mot: " It is a sign that I grow old, wlien ladies declare 
 war against ine." He doubtless recalled Anne to memory as 
 lie last saw her, when she was in her infancy, Avearing the 
 long veil and black train at the Palais Royal, as mourning for 
 her Aunt Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans. 
 
 When the grand occupation of the coronation was over. 
 Lady Marlborough, the new mistress of the robes, began in- 
 stinctively to feel rather than to perceive a change in the af- 
 fection of her royal mistress. She forthwith commenced carp- 
 ing, quarreling, and hunting for aifronts. The queen, on the 
 other hand, was eager to grant the Marlboroughs all the ad- 
 vantages which their avarice and ambition had anticipated. 
 Marlborough had yet his fortune to make from her bounty. 
 He, who had begun the world with nothing, notwithstanding 
 his almost supernatural eftbrts at gathering riches, had no 
 pi'operty comraensm-ate with his title of earl. Queen Anne 
 was willing to indulge the appetite of the pair for wealth and 
 honors. While this plan was in process, her majesty redoub- 
 led her caressing expressions, that her presuming favorites 
 might be gratified in their aml)itious and avai'icious designs 
 quickly and peacefully, for she did not wish to incur the re- 
 proach of sending them empty away. 
 
 Marlborough having commenced his victorious career as 
 commander-in-chief of the allies against France, by the cap- 
 ture of some towns in Flanders, the queen created him duke; 
 but, unfortunately, the House of Commons refused the royal 
 request of 5000/. per annum pension. Her majesty, in great 
 alarm, gave him 2000/. per annum fi'om her privy purse, ac- 
 companied with a most humble and caressing letter. Yet 
 after the pecuniary disappointment, which the new duchess 
 rightly attributed to the economy of Rochester, Anne had lit- 
 tle peace : in her hours of retirement, or on solemn occasions 
 of state, she was liable to the most violent vituperation from 
 the woman she had raised, to nse that person's oimi words, 
 " from the dust," to be her scourge and punishment. The 
 Duchess of Marlborough kept no measures with the queen, in 
 fact, either in writing or speaking of her or to her. While the 
 Tories were in power she constantly abused them as enemies, 
 and reviled the queen as her uncle's accomplice, until, strength- 
 ened by the great victories obtained by her husband, in the 
 succeeding year she effected their expulsion, and the queen fell 
 into her hands " a crowned slave," as her majesty afterward 
 pathetically called herself. 
 
 The new sovereign, at her accession, was entitled to the 
 first fruits of every benefice or dignity conferred by the crown. 
 
600 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1703. 
 
 With praiseworthy self-denial, instead or appropriating these 
 gains to the amplification of her personal power of magnifi- 
 cence, Queen Anne formed with it a fund to improve the mis- 
 erable livings, or rather starvings^ which too often fall to the 
 lot of some of the most excellent of the clergy. The fund 
 bears the expressive name of" Queen Anne's Bounty." Words 
 would be wasted in dwelling on it with panegyric ; it speaks 
 for itself, being still in operation, and having eflected immense 
 good. A plan of similar beneficence was first carried into ef- 
 fect, from the savings of his preferments, by the noble and 
 self-denying Archbishop Sancroft. Queen Anne followed his 
 example on the most extended scale of royal munificence ; and 
 her generosity has placed her name high on the list of royal 
 foundresses in the Christian Church. 
 
 Charles of Austria, who was on his way to take possession 
 of the disputed throne of Spain, arrived at Portsmouth, wish- 
 ing to pay his respects to Anne, as her realms were then war- 
 ring in his behalf. He had landed at Portsmouth, and the 
 prince-consort, George of Denmark, undertook a journey, De- 
 cember 27, 1703, to meet him and bring him to Windsor Cas- 
 tle, where Queen Anne had spent Christmas. They made not 
 any stop on the road, excepting the coach was overthrown or 
 stuck in the mud, which happened thrice in nine miles, and 
 then the nimble Sussex boors walked on each side of his royal 
 highness's coach, bearing it up with their hands by main 
 strength. Great contrast is offered in this narrative to the 
 present state of traveling ; only, to be sure, people did get 
 up again with their heads on after a roll in the Sussex mud, 
 which is not always the case after a railway collision. The 
 royal travelers arrived after dark at Windsor, on the 29th 
 of December, and were received by torch-light. The Duke of 
 Northumberland, constable of Windsor Castle, the Duke of 
 St. Albans, captain of the guard of pensioners, and the Mar- 
 quess of Hartington, captain of the yeoman-guard, received 
 Charles of Austria at his alighting. The Earl of Jersey, 
 lord chamberlain, lighted him to the stair-head, where Queen 
 Anne herself came in state to welcome him. Charles made 
 an elaborate compliment in French to her majesty, acknowl- 
 edging his obligations to her. He then led her to her bed- 
 chamber, for such was the royal etiqxxette at that time. The 
 next formality was, that Prince George escorted his guest to 
 his sleeping apartment, only to dress, as many other ceremo- 
 nials were still to be performed. Then Charles led her majes- 
 ty to the grand state dinner, which was as public as a state 
 dinner at Windsor Castle in the dark days at Christmas could 
 
1703.] ANNE. 601 
 
 he. When the supper had arrived, the grand scene of Span- 
 ish courtesy took place, and that, indeed, had an air of long- 
 departed chivalry. Charles's studied graces were reserved 
 for the propitiation of the ostensible favorites, the Duke and 
 Duchess of Marlborough. To the liusband he presented his 
 sword, with the rather touching regret, "that he had nothing 
 worthier of his acceptance ; for he was poor, and had little 
 more than his sword and his mantle." At the end of the 
 meal, Charles of Austria, with elaborate compliments, prevail- 
 ed on the duchess to give him the napkin which it was her 
 office to present to the queen, and he held it for her majesty 
 when she washed her hands. At the moment of giving back 
 the napkin to the Duchess of Marlborough, he presented her 
 with a superb diamond ring. 
 
 Charles of Austria then gave his hand to Queen Anne, and 
 led her to her bed-chamber, where he made some stay, inform- 
 ing her majesty that it was his intention to depart early the 
 next morning, and therefore he would take his leave that 
 night. Prince George was ill, but meant to escort the claim- 
 ant of Spain to Portsmouth. This Charles positively refused 
 to permit in his state of health ; but the prince insisted on at- 
 tending him to his coach when he departed the next morning. 
 Charles of Austria was scarcely seen by the English, in his 
 daik December visit to the royal seclusion of Windsor; he 
 was afterward the Emperor Charles VI. of Germany, father 
 to the great Empress, Maria Theresa. 
 
 The following is the routine of the palace life of Queen 
 Anne : Tlie bed-chamber-woman came into waiting before her 
 majesty rose, and previous to prayers. If a lady of the bed- 
 chamber were present, the bed-chamber-woman handed her the 
 queen's linen, and the lady put it on her majesty. Every time 
 the queen changed her dress in the course of the day, her 
 habiliments made the same formal progress from hand to hand. 
 The princesses of the blood-royal in France had the privilege, 
 as it was considered, of passing their queen's garments from 
 one to the other till the princess of the highest rank put it on 
 her majesty. Queen Anne was somewhat less tormented with 
 these ceremonials than were the Queens of France. When 
 the queen washed her Jiands, her page of the back-stairs brought 
 and set upon a side-table a basin and ewer. Then the bed- 
 chamber-woman placed it before the queen, and knelt on the 
 other side of the table over against the queen, the lady of the 
 bed-chamber only looking on. The bod-chamber-woman pour- 
 ed the water out of the ewer nn the queen's hands. It was 
 also her duty to pull on the queen's gloves when her mnjesty 
 
 A A 
 
602 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1704. 
 
 could not do it herself, which was often the ervse, owing to her 
 infirmity of gout. 
 
 The page of the back-stairs was always called to put on the 
 queen's shoes. When Queen Anne dined in public, her 
 page passed the glass to her bed-chamber-woman, and she 
 to the lady in waiting; in due time it reached the lips of 
 royalty. The bed-chamber-woman brought her majesty's 
 chocolate, and gave it to the queen without kneeling. In 
 fact, the chocolate was always taken by Queen Anne in the 
 privacy of her bed-chamber, just previous to lying down to 
 repose. The royal dinner-hour was exactly at three ; and 
 both the queen and Prince George manifested no little un- 
 easiness if ministers of state intruded upon that time. Six 
 was the usual hour for the queen's councils. On Sunday 
 evenings the most important coimcils were held. At the 
 public dinners, when royalty admitted their loving lieges of 
 their commonalty to look on, solemn dignity was observed. 
 
 Without entering farther into the stream of general politi- 
 cal history, it is necessary to state, in illustration of Anne's 
 personal life, that her uncle, the Earl of Rochester, the Duke of 
 Buckingham, Lord Dartmouth, and the Tory lords withdrew 
 from office in October, 1704. The government was subse- 
 quently swayed by the Whig party, of which her imperious 
 favorite, the Duchess of Marlborough, was the controlling 
 spirit, she and her husband changing their avowed politics 
 for that purpose. 
 
 Early in her reign, the queen claimed that mysterious pre- 
 tension to the power of curing persons afflicted with the evil, 
 by the royal touch, which the Roman Catholic hierarchy of 
 the middle ages asserted pertained to the immediate heirs 
 of St. Edward who were anointed sovereigns of England. 
 William the Conqueror and William the Hollander had equal- 
 ly repudiated the claim of healing the sick : they were too 
 much occupied with killing those who were well. One thing 
 is certain, that never was any measure better contrived by 
 cunning statesmen to fix the sovereign in the love of the 
 people. It appears that Queen Anne performed the healing 
 office, as it was termed, on her progresses whensoever she 
 rested at any provincial city. When the queen touched Dr. 
 Johnson for " the evil," it was in one of these western prog- 
 resses ; and her celebrated patient always remembered the 
 softness of his sovereign's white hands, and the sweetness of 
 her voice. 
 
 Queen Anne permitted the convocations of the Churcli of 
 England, silenced by her sister and brother-in-law. These 
 
1705.] ANNE. 603 
 
 convocations gradually became a dead letter till restored to 
 their present importance by lier majesty Queen Victoria. 
 
 The natural generosity of Anne found exercise by distrib- 
 uting relief to persons incarcerated in her prisons. The 
 celebrated Defoe, the author of " Robinson Crusoe," was an 
 object of her charity; he had been condemned to the pillor^^ 
 to an enormous fine, and apparently life-long imprisonment in 
 the horrible dungeons of Newgate, for writing a pamphlet 
 entitled " The Shortest Way with the Dissenters." Queen 
 Anne heard of his sufferings with concern, and sent him re- 
 lief, and vainly ordered the Earl of Nottingham to release 
 him; for, notwithstanding her powerful intercession, he con- 
 tinued four months longer in prison. But he shall tell the 
 queen's conduct himself: " When her majesty came to have 
 the truth of the case laid before her, I soon felt the effects 
 of her goodness and compassion. At first her majesty de- 
 clared she left all to a certain person [the Earl of Notting- 
 ham], and did not think he would hafe used me in such a 
 manner. Her majesty was pleased to inquire into my cir- 
 cumstances and family, and to send by her Lord Treasurer 
 Godolphin a considerable supply to my wife and children, 
 and to send me to the prison, money to pay my fine and the 
 expenses of my discharge." 
 
 \yithout possessing the refined taste for literature and the 
 arts which the worst enemies of the Stuart royal line are 
 forced to allow, Anne inherited the munificent spirit of her 
 race. As soon as she ascended the throne, poetry and sci- 
 ence breathed in a different atmosphere from the cold and 
 chilly blight that had f^illen on them when the Dutch per- 
 secutor of Sir Christopher Wren and Dryden assumed the 
 sceptre of the islands. Who can wonder, then, that the 
 " good Queen Anne" of the middle classes was eulogized 
 by the pen of every writer, "from Pope to Tickel ?" Her 
 reign, too, was a series of brilliant continental victories, and 
 she died before the bitter reaction of national poverty, which 
 ever follows English wars, had fully taken place. Her per- 
 sonal generosity to the Church, and her mildness of govern- 
 ment, made her adored by a populace which still extended 
 its hands to churchmen, as the kind alleviators of their most 
 bitter miseries ; for not only the weekly but the daily offer- 
 tory was still customary, and is supposed to have remained 
 so until the year 1725. It supplied a fund for charitable 
 purposes to the incumbents of livings too small to allow of 
 efficient private alms-giving on the part of the indigent past<ir, 
 who is too often compelled to behold distress without the 
 
604 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1705. 
 
 power of supplying nourishment to the sick, and clothing to 
 the naked of his flock. 
 
 The Augustan age of Anne, and the glories of literature 
 under her sway, are phrases on the pen or lips of every one, 
 and some readers may expect to learn how her majesty's 
 name came to be connected with such praises. No person 
 would have been more puzzled than good Queen Aone her- 
 self, if she had been expected to account for the same, as she 
 never read, and was devoid of the slightest literary taste. 
 The names of Sir Isaac Newton, Pope, and Dryden, are 
 sufficient to show a bright light on any age, both for original 
 genius and learning. Then Addison and Steele, the editors 
 and contributors to the " Spectator" and " Tatler," opened 
 an entirely new vein of essayical writing, which is still un- 
 rivaled. 
 
 The winters for the stage were much overpraised ; there 
 are, indeed, a few comedies of Gibber, Vanbrugh, and Con- 
 greve, which certainly deserve the doubtful praise of present- 
 ing true though atrocious pictures of the manners of the 
 times. The wits reckoned Defoe among the dunces. Poster- 
 ity has righted him. The " Riipe of the Lock," however, stands 
 among the finest of all English poems. Mrs. Centlivre, the 
 wife of Queen Anne's French cook, was the author of "The 
 Wonder," "A Bold Stroke for a Wife," and "The Busy- 
 body :" though far too freely written, they are comedies still 
 occasionally acted. 
 
 In the early days of Queen Anno some recluses of gentle 
 birth sighed for retirement " from the world, and wished to 
 make religious celibacy popular among English ladies." Mrs. 
 Mary Astell wrote an essay on solitude in 1696, and proposed 
 a sort of female college, in which " the young might be in- 
 structed, and ladies find a happy retirement." Anne, when 
 princess, approved the plan, and expressed her intention, 
 should she ever have the power, to endow it with 10,000^. 
 After her accession, Bishop Burnet rang an alarm of "popery" 
 in the ears of her majesty, and declared " that Mary Astell's 
 college would be called a nunnery." The name would have 
 mattered little, for it M'as not based on any principle that 
 could have rendered it an object of affection to the people; 
 self-devotion to the tuition and moral government of the 
 poor, added to the task of soothing their miseries, and 
 all for the love of the divine Founder of Christianity, is the 
 only principle which can draw public respect to any female 
 communities of the convent or collegiate species. Mary 
 Astell's plan, however refined, aimed not at this high intent. 
 
1705.] ANNE. 605 
 
 The Duchess of Marlborough successfully effected her pur- 
 pose of disuniting Lord Rochester and his royal niece; he re- 
 fused at last to visit her, and resigned his offices in the govern- 
 ment. The mind of the queen was set against her uncle by 
 that worrying pertinacity against one object on all occasions, 
 small and great, which seldom loses its purposes. By awak- 
 ening the royal jealousy that Lord Rochester regarded young- 
 James Stuart with secret affection, it is supposed that the fa- 
 vorite carried her point. Henry, Earl of Clarendon, the queen's 
 elder uncle, was self-banished ; and his half-witted son, Lord 
 Cornbury (whose merit in being the proto-deserter from James 
 IL required some gratitude), was sent to the English colonies 
 of North America. Lord Cornbury on state receptions in 
 America wore female attire, the better to represent his royal 
 relative. 
 
 Queen Anne was sitting in her closet at Windsor Castle on 
 the north terrace when the news of the victory of Blenhein\ 
 was brought to her. For several years the banner by which 
 the Duke of Marlborough holds the manor of Woodstock 
 was deposited iu this apartment, in memory of her reception 
 of the news, which was hailed with rapture by the nation, as 
 it was the only great foreign battle that had been gained since 
 that of Agincourt ; for English energies had been wasted in 
 such interior victories as those of Flodden or Pinkey Fields, or 
 the still more deplorable contests of the wars of the Roses, or 
 the calamitous civil strifes at Edgehill, Naseby, Dunbar, and 
 Worcester. Not one victory had rewarded the national pride 
 in exchange for all the blood and treasure expended by Wil- 
 liam IIL in his continental wars ; and the saying went through 
 Europe, " that the island bull-dogs could only tear each other." 
 The victory of Blenheim was therefore celebrated with un- 
 equaled splendor. The unfinished cathedral of St. Paul was 
 the place appointed for chanting the Te Deum, and the 
 queen went thither in procession to return thanks to Almighty 
 God, with all the pomp of royalty. 
 
 The riches vainly requested for the Duke of Marlborough 
 by Anne, and which had been withheld by the House of Com- 
 mons before the battle of Blenheim, were now profusely show- 
 ered on him. The House of Commons requested the queen, 
 "that she would please to consider of some proper means to 
 ])erpetuate the memory of the great services performed by the 
 Duke of Marlborough." At the close of the year the duke 
 returned, with his prisoner, the general of the French army, 
 Count Tallard. Queen Anne signified in person to the House 
 of Commons, " that she was inclined to grant the honor and 
 
606 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 0705. 
 
 manor of WooLlstock to the Duke of Marlborough and his 
 heirs forever, and that she desired the assistance of the house 
 to effect it." The act passed a few weeks subsequently. 
 
 The conscience of Anne, when princess, had been awakened 
 ■when she stood by the lifeless remains of her only son, the 
 Duke of Gloucester ; but her prosperous accession to the throne 
 since then had lulled all compunctious feelings to sleep. In 
 the year 1705, a letter was known to pass through the Hague 
 from St. Germains to Queen Anne : it contained a beautiful 
 miniature of her young brother. It was ascertained that it 
 reached the queen's hands safely, that she gazed on the pic- 
 ture, and, recognizing the strong Stuart resemblance that no 
 one can deny to the expatriated heir, she kissed it, and wept 
 over it piteously. It was verified more touchingly to her by 
 the striking likeness to her lost son, the Duke of Gloucester. 
 
 It was the long contests regarding the nomination of Lord 
 Sunderland to the important offices of lord privy-seal, and, 
 soon after, secretary of state, tliat caused the first open quarrel 
 between the queen and her tyrant, the Duchess of Marl- 
 borough. It was injurious to the country that the greatest 
 offices of state should be monopolized by one family ; com- 
 mander-in-chief, lord treasurer, secretaries of state — all filled 
 by Marlborough, his sons-in-law, and their connections. Like 
 the queen, the duchess had lost her only son ; but her four 
 daughters formed a phalanx of ladies of the bed-chamber round 
 the queen; wliile the imperious mother, as mistress of the 
 robes and groom of the stole, was supreme over the palace 
 officials, and even royalty itself. 
 
 Queen Anne was right in her antipathy to investing Lord 
 Sunderland with power ; as his enormous peculations afterward 
 proved but too well. This unprincipled man, however, con- 
 trived to fill whatsoever bishoprics fell vacant according to his 
 own pleasure, although he affected not to believe in Christian- 
 ity. Great numbers of letters, too long and complicated to 
 be more than mentioned in this edition, were written at this 
 time to the queen, under the names she had chosen. Oh! 
 how the iron must have entered into the soul of the unhappy 
 queen-regnant of Great Britain, as she recalled the days when 
 she permitted the lowering aliases of Morley and Freeman to 
 be used in her correspondence with her climbing bed-chamber- 
 woman. Those names, under which were carried on the dark- 
 est intrigues of her ambitious youth, were now her most ven- 
 omous scourges. 
 
 The unfortunate queen suffered agonies of mind at this 
 juncture. Her tears and agitation actually moved the heart 
 
1707.] ANNE. C07 
 
 of one of the family junta — liei" old servant, Godolphin, who 
 pleaded the cause of their royal mistress in vain to the pitiless 
 duchess. Few persons could have written letters of such un- 
 compromising insolence to any one, after the following pic- 
 ture had been drawn by Godolphin: "You chide me for 
 being touched with the condition in which I saw the queen : 
 you would have been so too, if you had seen the same sight 
 I did. But what troubles me most in all the aftair is, that I 
 am sure she thinks herself entirely in the right." 
 
 The first hint which directed the angry jealousy of the 
 duchess against her quiet kinswoman, Abigail Hill, arose 
 from Mrs. Danvers, who, believing herself to be dying, im- 
 plored her " to protect her daughter, and let her be in her 
 i:)lace." The duchess told her " she could not, for she was 
 then on bad terms with the queen ;" which observation led to 
 accusations by the sick woman against Abigail Hill, of secret 
 enmity to her cousin. At this time Abigail was still Mrs. 
 Hill (or, in modern parlance, Miss Hill) ; and from the narra- 
 tive may be gathered that the queen and the Duchess of 
 Marlborough were at serious variance before 1707. 
 
 Anne signed the Union Avith Scotland, April 24,1707, and 
 ratified it, with great state, in presence of the Scottish com- 
 missioners, her own ministers, and the members of both. 
 Houses of Parliament. In tlie act. of signature, the queen said 
 " this union is the happiness of my reign." In the bustle of 
 the national festival on this occasion. Queen Anne took the 
 opportunity of secretly attending a marriage which liad great 
 iufluence on her future life. Samuel Masham, who liad be- 
 longed to the household of the late Duke of Gloucester, was 
 one of the younger sons of an impoverished country gentle- 
 man of legitimate descent from George Duke of Clarence. 
 He otFered his hand to Abigail Hill, and thus gave her a rank 
 she had not. The queen dowered the bride with a portion of 
 5000^. from the privy-pui'se. Before retiring to Windsor, 
 Anne dissolved the last English House of Commons, and 
 finally summoned the first united Parliament of Great Britain, 
 to meet on the ensuing October 23. 
 
 One of those singular scenes took place at this period 
 which told the divided state of the queen's heart between 
 the safety of her country and the danger in which the last 
 near relative that remained to her was involved. Sir George 
 Byng, when he sailed to intercept an expected invasion of 
 young James Stuart, then first called in one of the queen's 
 speeches " the Pretender," had no instructions as to his ])er- 
 son. Some in council had proposed " measures of dispatch" 
 
ifHQ QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1708. 
 
 (tliat is, the proscription of his Hfe), but the moving appear- 
 ance of the queen's flowing tears prevented all farther dehb- 
 eration. 
 
 To Kensington Anne now withdrew as often as possible, to 
 nurse her declining husband in quiet and good air. Abigail 
 Masham was likewise his indispensable attendant, helping the 
 queen to support him during his terrible attacks of asthma. 
 They were permitted to remain almost in solitude with the 
 dying prince, when one day the enraged duchess broke upon 
 the invalid seclusion of Kensington with furious representa- 
 tions of the injuries they were committing against her vested 
 rights. It seems some court spy had been connnenting to 
 the haughty duchess " on the grand apartments in which her 
 cousin Slusham received company whenever her friends visit- 
 ed her at Kensington Palace." After due cogitation, the 
 duchess came to the conclusion "that they must be the same 
 which had been fitted up by King William for his favorite 
 Keppel, adjacent to his royal suite, and that they had been 
 subsequently allotted by Queen Anne to the Duchess of Marl- 
 borough, though never used by her ; and, scarcely knowing 
 their situation, she flew oft'to Kensington with the strong de- 
 termination that they should be appropriated by no other 
 person. Three separate inbreaks did the angry duchess make 
 on the temporary quiet of Kensington. Many stormy inter- 
 views occurred with the queen when the insolence of the 
 duchess broke the last hold she had on the affections of Queen 
 Anne. It may be remembered that the first quarrel between 
 Anne and her sister. Queen Mary, began with wranglings 
 about lodgings. As the Marlborough duchess commenced 
 her court-career, so she finished it. In fact, it is impossible 
 justly to accord this person the meed of greatness of mind or 
 character, for the causes of her contentions were despicable 
 for their pettiness. Great characters never contend for trifles, 
 seek for afironts, nor make stormy tumults to gain small re- 
 sults. 
 
 The last inbreak of the Duchess of Marlborough on the 
 melancholy repose of Kensington was immediately followed 
 by the removal of the queen from that palace. Her majesty 
 retired to Windsor as early as July, not to the royal establish- 
 ment of her stately castle, but to the small house or cottage in 
 Windsor Forest, purchased by her in the days when the wrath 
 of her sister, Queen Mary, rendered her an alien from all En- 
 glish palaces. Thither Queen Arme brought her sick consort, 
 and here, unencumbered' by the trammels of royalty, she 
 watched over him, and sympathized with his sufferings. The 
 
1708.] ANNE. G09 
 
 news ot" the victory at Oudeiiarde reached her there. Oiideii- 
 arde was gained at more than its worth on the Flemish chess- 
 board of war ; it cost 2000 men on the victor's side. " Oh, 
 Lord ! when will all this dreadful bloodshed cease ?" were the 
 words of Queen Anne when she received the news, together 
 with the lists of the killed and wounded. Notwithstanding 
 the grief of heart with which she heard the tidings of these 
 useless slaughters, it was indispensable etiquette for her to re- 
 turn thanks to her general, and public thanksgiving to God 
 for them. 
 
 The usual state procession to St. Paul's for thanksgiving 
 was appointed for August 19, 1708. The Duchess of Marl- 
 borough, deeming herself the heroine of the day, had, among 
 other aftairs connected with her office as mistress of the robes, 
 arranged the queen's jewels in the mode she chose them to be 
 worn ; yet when the I'oyal cortege was half way up Ludgate 
 Hill, happening to cast her eyes on the queen's dress, she per- 
 ceived all her majesty's jewels were absent. Her rage broke 
 out instantly, but what she said or did to induce torrents of 
 indignant words from the lips of the taciturn queen, has not 
 been recorded. It is certain they entered St. Paul's quarrel- 
 ing, the queen retorting taunts so loudly that the intrepid 
 dame experienced some alarm, not at the anger of the queen, 
 but lest the people, who detested the Marlboroughs, should 
 take an undesirable part in the dispute. Tlie queen contiinied 
 to speak angrily after they had both taken their places in the 
 cathedral, upon which the duchess insolently told her "to hold 
 her tongue !" This insult brought all heart-burnings to opeti 
 dissension. The Duchess of Mai-lborough never committed an 
 outrage against her much-enduring mistress without instantly 
 flying to her bitter pen, and stamping the " airy nothingness" 
 of uttered words with the permanency of written docu- 
 ments. 
 
 TIIE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 [August, 170S.] 
 
 " I can not help sending your majesty this letter, to show how exactly 
 Lord Marlborough agrees with nie in opinion that he has now no interest 
 with you, though, when I said so in the church a Tliursday, you were ple.ised 
 say it was untrue. And yet I think he will be surprised to hear, that when 
 I had taken so much pains to put your jewels in a way that I thought you 
 would like, Mrs. Masham could make you refuse to wear them in so unkind 
 a manner, because that was a power she had not thought fit to exercise be- 
 fore. I will make no reflections on it, only that I must needs observe that 
 your majesty chose a very wrong day to mortify me, when you were just go- 
 ing to return thanks for a victory obtained by my Lord Marlborough." 
 
 Bb 
 
610 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1708. 
 
 In answer to this tirade on petty affronts, the queen replied 
 witli more dignity than usual — 
 
 QUEEN ANNE TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH. 
 
 [Snnday.] 
 
 " After the commands you gave me on the thanksgiviiip-day of not answer- 
 ing j'on, I should not have troubled you with these lines but to return the 
 Duke of Marlborough's letter safe into your hands ; and for the same rea- 
 son, I do not say any thing to that, or to yours which enclosed it." 
 
 The autumn of ITOS Anne passed with her sick consort at 
 Bath, performing all the tender offices of a nurse to him, with 
 the assistance of Mrs. Masham. Scarcely were they returned 
 to Kensington Palace when his illness showed alarming symp- 
 toms, at which moment one of the hateful missives of the 
 Duchess of Marlborough was put into the queen's hands, com- 
 mencing — 
 
 "Though the last time I had the honor to wait on your majesty, your 
 usiige of me was such as was scarce possible for me to believe." 
 
 The queen had only read thus far when she found the writer 
 stood before her, having taken advantage of her office as mis- 
 tress of the robes to thrust herself into her presence. Anne 
 received her distantly. Although the prince-consort was 
 actually dying, the duchess recommenced her offensive behav- 
 ior. Agony conquered the timidity with which this over- 
 bearing spirit had hitherto inspired Anne, who, assuming the 
 mien and tone of sovereign majesty, bade her " withdraw." 
 For once the queen was obeyed by her. In a few minutes 
 death dealt the blow, and made Queen Anne a widow, after a 
 happy marriage of twenty years' duration. 
 
 The queen sat by the bed of death, weeping and wringing 
 h^r hands in the unutterable anguish of her first bereavement. 
 She was a monarch ; and etiquette, whose chains are almost as 
 inexorable as the sterner tyrant that had just bereaved her of 
 the husband of her youth, required that the mistress of the 
 robes should lead her from the chamber. The Duchess of 
 Marlboi'ough had not departed when the queen bade her 
 withdraw — she had only retired into the background : she 
 saw the prince die. When it was needful for her to act a de- 
 cided part, she noticed that the prince's servants were crowd- 
 ing round his body, which prevented her from approaching to 
 perform her official duty. 
 
 It was the policy of the Duchess of Marlborough to take 
 utter possession of the queen in her solitary state. Well she 
 knew it would run throuHi the town that she had carried off 
 
1708.] 
 
 ANNE. 
 
 611 
 
 the royal widow in her own carriage, without Mrs. Mashani 
 being apparently thought of by her majesty. For this great 
 end, the duchess had swallowed her present rage at the queen's 
 rebuke just before the prince expired, and clung to all the 
 privileges of her places with patience and pertinacity ; yet she 
 did not succeed quite so thoroughly as her bold and clever 
 diplomacy aimed at, though the queen actually went with her 
 from Kensington to St. James's, where she passed the first 
 months of a most sorrowful and secluded widowhood. 
 
 Prince George was born at Copenhagen, February 29, 1653 ; 
 consequently, his birthday could only be kept every leap-year. 
 He was at his death only fifty-five years of age, dying October 
 28,1708. 
 
 Tiiuce George of Deniuaik. From a portrait by KiicUer. 
 
6-12 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1708. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The queen was not permitted to rest in peace during the 
 twelve months she had devoted to bewail in retirement her 
 beloved consort. The news of the dearly-bought victory of 
 Malplaquet, won by the Duke of Marlborough, compelled her 
 again to enter public life ; and she was forced to make another 
 procession of thanksgiving to St. Paul's Cathedral, her eyes 
 red with weeping, and her heart appalled at the carnage of 
 twenty thousand of her subjects, who lay stiff and stark in the 
 trenches of that fatal Flemish town. 
 
 On Marlborough's return from the campaign, he coolly de- 
 manded of the queen " her patent to make him captain-general 
 for life, intimating that the war would last not only the du- 
 ration of their lives, but probably forever." Peace had, for 
 the first time, been discussed that sunmier ; the queen had 
 thus been encouraged to hope for an end of the murderous 
 war — and here was the victor proposing war forever, and 
 liimself to conduct it ! The queen replied, cautiously, " that 
 she would consider his request ;" and thus propounded the 
 case to Lord Chancellor Cowper: "In what words would 
 you draw a commission to render the Duke of Marlborough 
 captain-general of my armies for his life ?" Lord Cowper start- 
 ed with astonishment ; he believed that the queen, in perfect 
 ignorance, was about to yield the constitution of England to 
 a military dictator. He expressed himself warmly against 
 drawing aTiy such commission. The queen, with no little tact, 
 bade him "talk to the Duke of Marlborough about it." Lord 
 Cowper accordingly went to the great man, and after relating 
 the proposal of the queen, told him, honestly, " he would 
 never put the great seal of England to any such commission." 
 Then Marlborough found he had gone too far even for his 
 own colleagues. 
 
 The queen had been forced by her Whig ministers to foUoAV 
 the example of William and Mary, of silencing the convoca- 
 tion. The grievances connected with this measure raised the 
 popular ferment which brought into notice Dr. Sacheverel. 
 He sprang from an old Norman family, from which he had 
 inherited courage and grandeur of person. His name, like 
 most of those of old country families, was found among round- 
 heads and cavaliers. He has been reproached for the mis- 
 
1709.] ANNE. G13 
 
 deeds of both, but his father was a stanch loyalist. One case 
 is clear ; Sacheverel was no author, but he possessed the might- 
 ier gift of eloquence, and he did with his hearers whatsoever 
 he pleased. He chose, or it fell in the course of his duty, to 
 preach a sermon in St. Paul's Cathedral, on the 5th of Novem- 
 ber, 1709. It was considered the bounden duty of the preach- 
 er at St, Paul's to celebrate the two deliverances from popery 
 — one from " gunpowder treason and plot," the other the land- 
 ing of William of Orange, which had occurred on that an- 
 niversary, 1688. Likewise, a progressive glance was expect- 
 ed to be thrown on " Queen Bess's Day," as the 17th of No- 
 vember, Queen Elizabeth's Accession Day, was called. Sa- 
 cheverel celebrated all these events so as to make the very 
 walls of the new cathedral ring. When he mentioned " Queen 
 Bess's Day," he told all the evil he knew of EUzabeth, and 
 none of the good, which was not fair. He said httle of the 
 first deliverance from popery, but much regarding the last ; 
 and, without knowing a tithe of their treachery and corruption, 
 he told some alarming truths of the leaders of the Revolution : 
 Lord Godolphin he especially castigated under the name of 
 Volpone. His sermon lasted tliree hours, yet no one among 
 his crowded audience was tired, and, what was more singular, 
 this oration of the polemic-politicians class, although it un- 
 said and contradicted what all other polemic-politicians had 
 said, was received by the people with intense satisfaction. 
 Lord Godolphin, against whom it was particularly aimed, 
 flew to the queen, and, in an agony of rage and passion, claim- 
 ed the character of Volpone as his own. Dr. Sacheverel was 
 imprisoned, and impeachment before Parliament threatened. 
 The consequences, in case of his condemnation, were those to 
 which death seems a trifle — the lash, the pillory, loss of ears, 
 and imprisonment for life. Directly the queen consented to 
 the incarceration of the champion of High Church, London 
 rose en masse against the Godolphin administration. Vast 
 mobs paraded the streets — intimations having been given 
 them that the heart of the queen yearned toward the Church 
 of England, as she had received it in her youth. The streets 
 and courts round St. James's rang with the cries of " God 
 save the Queen and Dr. Sacheverel !" " Queen and High 
 Church !" 
 
 Cries of " God bless your majesty and the Church !" echoed 
 from the vast crowds of the English populace who surround- 
 ed the sedan of Queen Anne, as she was carried to West- 
 minster Hall to witness the imj)eachment of Dr. Sacheverel. 
 Those among the people who pressed nearest to the chair of 
 
614 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1709-1710. 
 
 the royal Anne, added to their loyal shout the confiding ex- 
 hortation of " We hope your majesty is for God and Dr. 
 Sacheverel!" A court had been prepared in Westminster 
 Hall for the trial of Dr. Sacheverel, with seats for the peers 
 in their due precedence. A box was erected near the throne 
 for the queen, who chose to witness the trial incognita. 
 Benches Avere placed for the members of the House of Com- 
 mons who conducted the impeachment. Opposite the whole 
 scene were galleries for ladies. Westminster Hall was 
 full to overflowing, February 27, 1709-10. Sacheverel de- 
 fended himself with spirit, fire, and a flow of magnificent 
 eloquence. Although his orations undeniably proceeded from 
 his lips, the composition was, nevertheless, attributed to 
 Simon Harcourt, his legal counselor, or to any person but 
 liimself. Yet Harcourt did not at any subsequent time 
 produce speeches in the same style. While these scenes 
 were proceeding on the public arena of Westminster Hall, 
 another species of performance was in progress behind the 
 curtained recess that contained the royal auditress. The 
 jealousies that were fermenting in the little W'orld of courtly 
 intrigue are described by the pen of the Duchess of Marl- 
 borough ; most amusing they are, but too difi"use for an 
 abridged life. The queen, as before observed, went incog- 
 nita to the trial of Sacheverel. Her desire was to pass un- 
 known, but her people recognized her. "Her majesty," says 
 the Duchess of Marlborough, " entered the curtained box M'hich 
 had been prepared for her : she Avas accompanied by all her 
 ladies Avho were on duty. Those in waiting the first day 
 were, her relative, Lady Hyde, the Duchess of Somerset, and 
 Lady Burlington, with the duchess as mistress of the robes. 
 The etiquette of court was for these ladies to stand, unless the 
 queen gave them invitation to be seated." The Duchess of 
 Marlborough was in perplexity to account for the circum- 
 stance why her m.ojesty, with her usual urbanity, did not ask 
 her ladies to sit. The queen had scarcely spoken to her 
 since her last violent outbreak respecting an allowance which 
 the queen had given to a sick laundress ; and just then had 
 ceased a furious paper-war, regarding the resignation of the 
 places held by the duchess in favor of her daughters, by the 
 queen firmly denying at the same time any promise to make 
 such places hereditary in the Marlborough fixmily, while the 
 duchess insisted that such a promise had been given her. 
 " Tired with standing at last," she says, " I went up to the 
 queen, and stooping down to her, as she Avas sitting, to 
 Avhisper to her, said, ' I believed her majesty had forgotten 
 
1710.] ANNE. G15 
 
 to order us to sit, as was customary in such cases.' Tlie 
 queen looked as if she had indeed forgot, and was sorry for 
 it ; she answered in a very kind, easy manner, ' By all means ; 
 pray sit.' Before I could get a step from her chair, the 
 queen called to Mr. Mordaunt, her page of honor, ' to give 
 stools, and desire her ladies to sit down.' " Lady Hyde, 
 however, walked away, and stood behind her royal cousin's 
 chair the whole day. The Duchess of Somerset likewise 
 refused the oifered taboret, therefore the mighty duchess, 
 though angry, was nearly alone. 
 
 The proceedings of the people, on that second afternoon 
 of the Sacheverel trial, had alarmed even those who were 
 the most desirous of frightening his persecutors. Many 
 meeting-houses were fired. But when the jiopulace began 
 to bend its fury against the Bank of England, the Earl of 
 Sunderland rushed into the queen's presence with such an 
 account of the proceedings of her loving lieges in behalf of 
 " her majesty's High Church and Dr. Sacheverel," that the 
 royal widow was seen to turn deadly pale, and was seized 
 with a fit of visible tremor. It was but for a short period 
 that Anne suflTered from fear: she recovered lier courage, 
 and bade her hated secretary of state " send her foot and 
 horse guards foi-thwith, and disperse the rioters." Accord- 
 ingly, Captain Horsey, Avho was then on duty at St. James's, 
 was sunnnoned into the presence of majesty, when her sec- 
 retary, Lord Sunderland, repeated the queen's order to Cap- 
 tain Horsey, with the injunction that he Avas to use discre- 
 tion, and not to proceed to extremities. The captain would 
 evidently have preferred her majesty's commands to disperse 
 Lord Sunderland himself, her grace his mother-in-law, and 
 the rest of the family junta, who kept the queen in check. 
 "Am I to preach to the mob?" asked Captain Horsey, "or 
 am I to figlit them ? If you want preaching, please to send 
 with me some one who is a better hand at holding forth 
 than I am ; if you want fighting, it is ray trade, and I will do 
 my best." All the alarms and conflagrations of the tumult- 
 uous night of February 28, which scared sleep from the 
 royal pillow, did not prevent Queen Anne from visiting 
 Westminster Hall ; she went privately, and therefore with- 
 out guards. A severer trial of her courage occurred ; for 
 the Duchess of Marlborough came to discuss offenses, given 
 or taken. " I waited on the queen the next morning," writes 
 the duchess, " half an hour before she went to the trial, and 
 told her ' that I had observed the day before that the Duch- 
 ess of Somerset had refused to sit at the trial, which I did 
 
616 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1710. 
 
 not know tlie meaning of, since her majesty was pleased to 
 order it, and I wish to know if we really were to sit.' The 
 queen answered, with more peevishness than was natural to 
 her, ' If I had not liked you to sit, why should I have order- 
 ed it?' " 
 
 By the exertions of Captain Horsey and the queen's guards, 
 the populace were restrained from molesting the persons 
 deemed most inimical to the 
 Church of England ; neverthe- 
 less, the people continued to es- 
 cort the queen and the prisoner 
 home to their several abiding- 
 places with formidable threats 
 against the foes of the Church. 
 Vast masses remained blocked 
 and wedged in St. James's 
 square and the environs of the 
 palace all that night, and every 
 night in the first fortnight of 
 March. Cries of entreaty on the 
 queen, " not to desert the Church 
 and Sacheverel," were distinctly 
 heard by her majesty and the 
 household. It was dangerous 
 for any person, of whatever par- 
 ty they might be, to pass with- 
 out wearing the oak-leaf, which 
 was just then the popular badge, 
 being considered the symbol of 
 " monarchy restored" — artificial, 
 of course, as oak-leaves are not to 
 be found in February. At the 
 end of a contest, lasting for three 
 weeks, Sacheverel received the 
 sentence of " suspension from 
 preaching for three years." As 
 so much worse had been expect- 
 ed, it was greeted by the people 
 as a triumphant acquittal. These 
 popular indications encouraged 
 Queen Anne to expel the junta 
 that had for years enslaved her. 
 Her subjects of the lower classes 
 had risen, showed their rugged 
 strength, growled defiance on the ministry, protected the 
 
1710.] ANNE. 617 
 
 Church in the person of Dr. Sacheverel, and then lay down 
 again, perfectly satisfied that the queen was on the side of 
 that beloved church ; and the people showed unmistakable 
 inclination to rise again to the rescue, if farther danger threat- 
 ened either. 
 
 The attachment which the English people manifested to the 
 Established Church at this period, and for the preceding fifty 
 years, has been treated by historians with utter supercilious- 
 ness, which gives not the slightest information to the very 
 natural question of wherefore the populace rose to protect, 
 when the usual movement of that class is to destroy ? It is 
 with simplicity of conviction, from every beaiing of evidence, 
 we assert, that the causes of the insurrectionary movement of 
 the English populace for the protection of the Church and Dr. 
 Sacheverel, proceeded from gratitude for the manner in which 
 the poor were relieved and governed by the Church of En- 
 gland ; and likewise from impulse»s of fear, lest the miglity 
 charity of the daily offertory should be extinguished witli the 
 vital functions of their church — apprehensions which were 
 realized in a few years. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 'All removals, small and great, had been effected by the 
 queen and her advisers before they ventured any attempt to 
 displace from her great court-oftices the terrible woman who, 
 either by love or fear, had ruled her for so many years. The 
 Duchess of Marlborougli herself exultingly attributes this cir- 
 cumstance to her having kept the queen in check, by the 
 threats she held over her of printing her majesty's letters of 
 fondness and confidence. The queen, she made out, suffered 
 the greatest pain of mind whenever this subject was reiter- 
 ated, and at last sent the Duke of Shrewsbury to negotiate 
 the surrender of her letters. AH the satisfaction obtained 
 was, "that while the duchess kept her places, the letters 
 should remain unprinted." At last, the queen and her new 
 household agreed to wait patiently until the lord and master 
 of the virago returned from his Flemish campaign ; for, ill as 
 she treated him, and vivaciously as she reviled him in their 
 hours of domestic felicity, Marlborough was the only person 
 who could manage his spouse. He arrived in London from 
 his annual camjiaign, December 28, and taking a hackney- 
 
618 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1710. 
 
 coach, drove directly to St. James's, and obtained a private 
 interview of half an hour with her majesty. He lamented 
 Iiis late junction with the Whigs, and declared, almost in the 
 language of Wolsey, " that he was worn out with age, fa- 
 tigues, and misfortunes ;" assuring the queen, moreover, ^ that 
 he was neither covetous nor ambitious." Her majesty, when 
 describing the interview to her new ministers and confidants, 
 said, " If she could have conveniently turned about, she must 
 have laughed outright ; and as it was, could hardly forbear 
 doing so in his face." 
 
 When the Duke of Marlborough had uttered all that his 
 sagacity had suggested as most likely to mollify his royal 
 mistress, the queen requested him to tell his wife that " She 
 wished to receive back her gold keys as groom of the stole 
 and mistress of the robes." The demand drew from the duke 
 another remonstrance on the causes of such requisition. The 
 queen made no other I'eply but that, " It was for her honor 
 that the keys should be returned forthwith." The duke ear- 
 nestly entreated that the queen would delay the displacing of 
 his wife until after the peace, which must take place next 
 summer, and then they would both retire together. The 
 queen would not delay the surrender of the keys for one 
 week. The Duke of Marlborough threw himself on his knees, 
 and begged for a respite of ten days, in order to prepare the 
 mind of his wife for a blow she would feel severely. The 
 queen, with the utmost difficulty, consented to wait for three 
 days ; " but before two were passed," says the duchess, " the 
 queen sent to insist that her keys should be restored to her." 
 The Duke of Marlborough instantly went to St. James's, hav- 
 ing some urgent business respecting his command to transact 
 with the queen. When he entered upon his errand, her maj- 
 esty positively refused to proceed to the discussion of affairs 
 until she received back her gold keys from the duchess. 
 Thus urged, the duke retired from the royal presence with 
 the desperate intention of obtaining them. He went to his 
 spouse, and told her she must surrender the queen's insignia : 
 the duchess vehemently refused. The duke laid his com- 
 mands on her to return the gold keys, Av4icli she did by throw- 
 ing them at his head. Marlborough, glad to obtain them on 
 any terms, caught the keys, and immediately carried them to 
 the queen, who received them of him, to use the words of a 
 contemporary, " with far greater pleasure than if he had 
 brought her the spoils of an enemy." — "The duchess," con- 
 tinues the same authority, " flew about the town in a rage, 
 and, with eyes and words full of vengeance, proclaimed how 
 
1711.] AISTSTE. 619 
 
 ill she had been treated by the queen." But, from her own 
 accounts, she has made it evident that she received from the 
 privy-purse, in actual gifts, more than 40,000^, From places 
 and from other emoluments, the united incomes of the Duke 
 and Duchess of Marlborough have been computed at 94,000^. 
 per animm. 
 
 During the arduous period of the settlement of the queen's 
 new ministry, the country was thrown into the utmost agita- 
 tion by an occurrence which was supposed to have threatened 
 the lives of two of the most popular persons in it, her majesty 
 and her statesman Harley. That any one ever thought of in- 
 juring or killing the harmless royal matron is scarcely credi- 
 ble ; yet her loving subjects thought that she had been in im- 
 minent danger from the knife of Colonel Guiscard, who had 
 been a Roman Catholic abbot, but, flying from France, com- 
 manded one of William III.'s refugee regiments. On some 
 aftVont he stabbed Harley at this juncture. 
 
 The sycophancy of the court in paying homage to Abigail 
 Masham by way of propitiating the queen, greatly disgusted 
 her majesty, who confided her feelings on the subject to Lord- 
 Dartmouth. That nobleman liad been deputed by the Tory 
 ministry to request the queen to make Abigail's liusband, Mr. 
 Masham, a peer, as it was requisite for twelve to be created. 
 The proposition was very distasteful to Queen Anne, Avho 
 thus replied to Lord Dartmouth : " I never had the least in- 
 tention to make a great lady of Abigail Masham ; for by so 
 doing I should lose a useful servant about my person, for it 
 Avould give offense for a peeress to sleep on the floor, and do 
 all sorts of inferior ofhces." But as Abigail was related to 
 Harley as well as to Lady Marlborough, that rising statesman 
 Avished to lose the memory of her former servitude to Lady 
 Rivers under the blaze of a peeress's coronet; the measure was 
 therefore persisted in, notwithstanding the queen's sensible 
 objections. At last, her majesty consented to the exaltation 
 of the humble Abigail, on condition that she remained her 
 dresser. Samuel Masham was gazetted as a peer of Great 
 Britain, December 28, 1711. Their-kinsman, Mr. Secretary 
 Harley, Avas created ^arl of Oxford ; he was also lord treas- 
 urer. Soon differences arose between him and Lady Masham, 
 Avho AA^as a devoted Jacobite. Perhaps her kinsman Avould 
 have been so if he had not been convinced of the impractica- 
 bility of young James Stuart as to his religion, and Avhat Avas 
 • Avorse to a financier, his positiA^e refusal to legalize, if restored, 
 the enormous national debt contracted by the Revolution. 
 
 Peace Avas the great object of Anne's change of ministry. 
 
620 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1712. 
 
 The envoys, Dubois and Mesnager, of Louis XIV,, had been 
 received privately at Windsor Castle, at the close of 1711, in 
 order to discuss the difficult point of the indispensable cruelty 
 to the queen's brother, implied in his removal from France. 
 Anne's young sister Louisa, born there after James IL's exile, 
 died of the small-pox before the preliminaries wei"e finally set- 
 tled. Queen Anne expressed more grief, and so did the En- 
 glish people, than would be supposed at this day, for it was 
 generally considered that if this young princess had married 
 a Lutheran prince, her religion would not have been so dis- 
 tasteful to the British nation as Roman Catholicism in a king, 
 and that she might have been her sistei''s successor. Yet as 
 she was as firm in her belief as her brother, it was happy that 
 the beautiful young Louisa Stuart was taken from the evil to 
 come. James Stuart was finally compelled to retire from 
 Paris to Avignon. 
 
 When the treaty of peace seemed to progress favorably be- 
 fore the congress at Utrecht, Prince Eugene was sent by the 
 new emperor, Charles VL, requiring Anne to continue the 
 war at her own expense. This renowned imperial general 
 had been Marlborough's coadjutor in most of the late victo- 
 ries. He was Marlborough's friend, and came at this time as 
 his partisan. Fully aware of that point, the queen made 
 every possible excuse to delay his visit, but in vain, for Prince 
 Eugene was safely landed at Greenwich, January 6, 1712, 
 and, despite of all impediments, attended the royal levee held 
 the same day. He was soon made sensible that her Britannic 
 majesty had taken offense at his venturing into her august 
 presence unsuitably attired, for Hofiraan, his imperial master's 
 resident minister, had solemnly warned him " that Queen 
 Anne could not abide any one that was presented to her with- 
 out a full-bottomed periwig." Eugene, who was already in 
 the royal ante-chamber, exclaimed " I know not what to do, 
 I never had a long periwig in my life ; and I have sent to all 
 my valets to know whether any of them have one, that I might 
 borrow it, but not one has such a thing," He spoke with 
 that impatience and contempt which, when reported to Queen 
 Anne, increased her indignation. Thej||or queen was unwill- 
 ing to receive this unwelcome guest, who came to destroy 
 tlie pacification she sighed for. The beauty of Prince Eugene 
 Avas not sufficient to authorize the queen's solicitude respecting 
 his adornments; for Swift gives this description of her warlike 
 visitor: "I saw Prince Eugene at court to-day; he is plaguy 
 3'ellow, and excessively ugly besides." When the queen held 
 her birthday drawing-room, February 6, 1712, Prince Eugeno 
 
1713.] ANNE. 621 
 
 presented himself resjjectfully enveloped in a full-bottomed 
 wig of proper court proportions. Her majesty had designed 
 to give him a diamond-hilted sword, worth 4000^., but did not 
 present it with all the world looking on, as was expected. 
 Although it was a national tribute, it was privately bestowed 
 in the presence of her lord chamberlain. 
 
 Party spirit broke out at this period, peace mobs and war 
 mobs paraded the streets ; and the disappointed politicians 
 just dismissed from office organized bands of night-disturbers 
 called Mohawks, who traversed the dreary streets, and ill-treat- 
 ed and even slaughtered any unprotected persons they met. 
 Thomas Burnet, the bishop's profligate son, was notorious as 
 one of the Mohawks' gang. 
 
 The queen had been kept for the last two years in a state 
 of anguish which certainly shortened her life, by the constant 
 threats of her once-loved favorite to publish the letters that 
 had passed between them. The people were enraged, and 
 threatened the duchess that if she published any thing against 
 their queen, they would tear her to pieces. On some intima- 
 tion of the kind she departed to Holland. Harley, Earl of 
 Oxford, who had himself corresponded with the exiled royal 
 family, and from whom the widowed queen of James H. had 
 some hope for her son, sent him, at his request, the treason- 
 able letters Marlborough had written in the time of his dis- 
 grace with William and Mary. Oxford showed Marlborough 
 his own letters, who, perceiving his life Avas at stake, promised 
 to follow his duchess abroad without delay, and kept his 
 word. 
 
 The queen's long-cherished but oft-deferred hopes of peace 
 were realized with the opening of the year 1713. The tears 
 that had often streamed from her eyes over the appalling lists 
 of slain and wounded in the mere glory-battles of Blenheim 
 and Ramilies", were at last to fall no more. For years Anne 
 had been the only pei-son connected with the government of 
 her country who was steadily desirous of peace ; she was not, 
 however, destined long to reign over England when her great 
 object was attained. The fierce contests attending the expul- 
 sion of the junta tha^jjiad identified war with their interests, 
 shook her sands of life rudely. This was more apparent when 
 the slaughter of her kinsman the Duke of Hamilton, in a duel 
 fought in the park, had taken from her the only personal 
 friend on whose courage and skill in political and military af- 
 fairs she could confide. All but those who saw her daily knew 
 well that the time of Anne Stuart could not be long. 
 
 The death of the Electress Sophia, at her Palace of Heren- 
 
622 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1714. 
 
 hausen, was announced to Queen Anne, July 25. A general 
 inourning was, as a matter of course, ordered for ber majesty's 
 illustrious kinswoman, Anne herself complying with the injunc- 
 tion that had been issued in her name for all people to put on 
 suitable mourning. The substitution of the elector's name in 
 the Common Prayer-Book, in the place of that of his mother, 
 as heir-presumptive to the throne of Great Britain, caused the 
 queen great agitation. 
 
 Anne had visited Windsor in the beginning of July, but 
 having been taken ill there, returned to Kensington, in hopes 
 of putting an end to the perpetual quarrels between Harley, 
 lord treasurer, and Bolingbroke, the secretary of state, by 
 dismissing the former. Two councils having been interrupted 
 by her violent illness, the decisive one was delayed until the 
 evening of the 29th of July. When the hour appointed for 
 the royal victim to meet the lords of her council drew near, 
 Mrs. Danvers, the oldest lady of her household, entering the 
 presence-chamber at Kensington Palace, saw, to her surprise, 
 her majesty standing before the clock, and gazing intently 
 upon it. Mrs. Danvers was alarmed and perplexed by the 
 sight, as her majesty was seldom able to move without assist- 
 ance. She approached, and ascertained that it was indeed 
 Queen Anne who stood there. Venturing to interrupt the 
 ominous silence that prevailed through the vast room, only 
 broken by the heavy ticking of the clock, she asked " whether 
 her majesty saw any thing unusual there, in the clock ?" 
 The queen answered not, yet turned her eyes on the questioner 
 with so woful and ghastly a regard, that, as this person after- 
 ward affirmed, "she saw death in the look." Assistance was 
 summoned by the cries of the terrified attendant, and the 
 queen was conveyed to her bed. It appears that her dread 
 of a third stormy council had caused her illness, a burning 
 fever. Her brain was affected, and she murmured all night, 
 at intervals, words relative to " the Pretender," without ces- 
 sation. There can be no doubt that this peculiar bias of the 
 queen's mind occasioned her illness to be concealed for several 
 hours m the recesses of the royal apartments of her palace at 
 Kensington. ^ 
 
 Dr. Arbuthnot and Lady Masham dared not make her maj- 
 esty's state so public as to induce a general consultation of 
 the royal phj^sicians, lest one of them, Dr. Mead (a politician 
 in the Whig interest), should hear the poor queen uttering 
 the thoughts that weighed on her breast. Yet there was a 
 medical consultation held, in the middle of that important 
 night, by Dr. Arbuthnot and such physicians as were in ordi- 
 
1714.] ANNE. 623 
 
 nary attenilance. It was agreed that her majesty ought to be 
 cupped, wliich was accoi'dingly done, in the presence of Lady 
 Mashain and Dr. Arbuthnot, about two in the morning of July 
 30. Eiglit ounces of blood, very tliick, were taken from her; 
 she was relieved from her worst symptoms : it is said slie rose 
 at her accustomed hour of seven in the morning, and was at- 
 tired and combed by her women ; but such an alarming relapse 
 occurred at half past eight, that Dr. Arbuthnot was forced to 
 make her malady public, for he could not have recourse to the 
 lancet without more authority, and he considered the royal 
 jjatient was suffering under an attack of apoplexy. 
 
 When Mr. Dickens, the queen's apothecary, had taken ten 
 ounces of blood from her majesty's arm, a sound was heard of 
 some one falling heavily. The queen was sufficiently recover- 
 ed to ask," What the noise was?" Her attendants answered, 
 " It was Lady Masham, who had swooned from grief and ex- 
 haustion." It was judged proper to carry Lady Masliam for 
 recovery from the royal apartments, and the bustle of removing 
 her, together with the incident itself, was supposed greatly 
 to alarm and hurry the queen. Her majesty experienced a 
 third terrible seizure of pain and weight in the head just be- 
 fore ten o'clock the same morning, and every one around her 
 believed that her death would be immediate. The news 
 spread like wild-fire over London, and the influential Whig 
 magnates, the Dukes of Somerset and Argyle, forced their 
 way into the assembling privy council, and insisted on taking 
 their places therein. From that moment they swayed every 
 thing, for the displaced premier, the Earl of Oxford, had sent 
 a private circular to every Whig lord in or near London who 
 had ever belonged to the privy council, warning them to come 
 and make a struggle for the Protestant succession. 
 
 Lord Bolingbroke came to her majesty, and told her the 
 privy council were of opinion it would be for the public serv- 
 ice if the Duke of Shrewsbury were made lord treasurer. 
 The queen immediately consented. But the duke refused to 
 accept the staff, unless the queen herself placed it in his hand. 
 He approached her bed and asked her "If she knew to whom 
 she gave the white wand?" — "Yes," the queen I'eplied ; "to 
 the Duke of Shrewsbury," adding, " For God's sake, use it for 
 the good of my people" — a speech perfectly consistent with 
 Anne's conduct as queen-regnant, because, whatsoever wrong 
 she practiced before her accession, she was a most beneficent and 
 loving sovereign to her people, who have reason to bless her 
 name to tliishour. Having thus performed her duty as queen, 
 all the duties she had outraged in her early career to obtain 
 
624 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [17U. 
 
 the crown overwhelmed her conscience, and rendered her 
 death-bed comfortless. When her mind wandered, she be- 
 gan to utter in a piteous tone, "Oil, my brother! oh, my 
 poor brother !" The Bishop of London stood by her bedside, 
 contemplating this awful termination of the successful fruition 
 of ambition. 
 
 Little did Anne anticipate, in 1688, M'hen eagerly employed 
 in casting the well-known stigma on the birth of her brother, 
 that her death-bed lamentations would be for him, and that 
 her last agonizing cry would be his name ! She continued to 
 repeat this sad exclamation until speech, sight, and pulse left 
 her. The privy council then assembled in the royal bed- 
 chamber, demanding of the physicians to declare their opinions, 
 who agreed that the queen's state was hopeless. All the 
 members of the privy council withdrew, except the Bishop 
 of London, who remained near the insensible queen ; but she 
 never again manifested sufficient consciousness to speak or 
 pray, although she, from time to time, showed signs of actual 
 existence. As the privy council separated, the Duke of 
 Buckingham came to the Duke of Ormonde, clapped his hand 
 on his shoulder, and said, "My lord, you have four-and-twenty 
 hours to do our business in, and make yourself master of the 
 kingdom." The military force was in the hands of Ormonde. 
 Buckingham knew that a direct appeal to arms would be 
 as useless as it was criminal ; yet if any popular indication 
 had coincided with his wishes, he had little doubt regarding 
 which side Ormonde would have taken, but there was no such 
 movement. The great seal was put to an important patent 
 by four o'clock the same day. It was to provide for the gov- 
 ernment of the country by four-and-twenty regents, constitut- 
 ing government until the arrival of the Protestant successor. 
 
 Queen Anne drew her last breath between seven and 
 eight o'clock, August 1, 1714, in the fiftieth year of her age, 
 and the thirteenth of her reign. Like her predecessor, she 
 died on a Sunday morning. When the queen was released, 
 the lords-regent commanded Addison, whom they had ap- 
 pointed their secretary, to announce the important event 
 to the prince whom the choice of the nation had appoint- 
 ed her successor. The celebrated author was complete- 
 ly overwhelmed with the importance of his task, and 
 while he was culling words and phrases commensurate in 
 dignity to the occasion, hours fled away — hours of immense 
 importance to the Protestant cause in England. At last, 
 the regency was forced to call to its assistance Mr. South- 
 well, a clerk belonsrino- to the House of Lords, who announced 
 
1714.] ANNE. 625 
 
 to the Elector of Hanover " that the British sovereign was 
 dead, and that the thi-one was vacant," using the dry, tech- 
 nical phrases best fitted for tidings received, if not without 
 positive exultation, certainly without aifectation of sorrow. 
 The proclamation of George of Hanover as King George I. 
 took place the same Sunday morning. In the morning 
 prayers at St. Dunstan's, King George was prayed for. 
 Three days afterward was the triumphant entry of the Duke 
 of Marlborough, who returned from a sort of voluntary exile, 
 passing through the city of London in great state, attended 
 by hundreds of gentlemen on horseback, and some of the 
 nobility in their coaches, followed by the city trained bands. 
 This array was made to intimidate those who were inimical 
 to the Protestant succession. 
 
 As far as the personal affections of all sorts and condi- 
 tions of the people were concerned, Anne was the most 
 popular female sovereign who had, up to that time, ascended 
 the British throne. " Our good Queen Anne" is an expression 
 not yet obsolete. Few readers, however, have given her 
 credit for the great good she actually did when on the 
 throne ; still fewer have considered the difficulty she had in 
 performing it while struggling with the inertness of cruel 
 disease, her own want of historical and statistical informa- 
 tion, and, worse than all, the rapacity of favorites and fac- 
 tions, the nurturers of wars and revolutions for lucre of their 
 own selfish gains. 
 
 In her domestic conduct there is much to commend in 
 this princess. Anne was a fond mother and a tender Avife, 
 perfect in all her conjugal duties, and sacrificing even her 
 jjersonal ease to nurse and attend on her husband and son, 
 when either was suffering from ill health. She was likewise 
 a gentle and indulgent mistress to her dependents in her 
 household, even to those whom she did not view with any 
 particular favor. It is true that no evidence exists of her 
 kindness or benevolence, in the eai-ly period of her life, or 
 the least trait of feminine tenderness or sympathy, toward 
 any living creature not included in the narrow circle of her 
 home, neither is a single instance of charity quoted. But as 
 such virtues appeared indisputably, directly she emerged 
 from under the overpowering dominion of the Marlboroughs, 
 no doubt can exist that the imperious favorite kept the good 
 qualities of her mistress as much in the shade, as she brought 
 out her evil ones in strong relief 
 
 In truth, Queen Anne is an instance of how much real good 
 may be done by the earnestness of a princess of moderate 
 
 Bb 
 
626 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1714. 
 
 abilities and no pretense, but resolutely bent on actions bene- 
 ficial to her fellow-creatures. Those who bow in idol-wor- 
 ship before the splendor of human talent would find it difii- 
 cult to cite two measures performed by any sovereign of 
 acknowledged power of mind and brightness of genius com- 
 parable with those brought to bear by Queen Anne, and 
 which were her own personal acts : the one is the fund she 
 provided for the relief of the impoverished clergy of the 
 Church of England, still emphatically called " Queen Anne's 
 Bounty," the otlier the union of England and Scotland. 
 
 Anne was interred by torch-light, August 24, in the Stuart 
 vault, near Henry VII.'s chapel crypt, Westminster Abbey. 
 With some difficulty room had been made for her coffin by 
 her" husband's side ; for this the queen had anxiously pro- 
 vided while she was yet living. Yet for the erection of a 
 monument neither money nor care were expended by her. 
 The foundress of the great " Bounty" to the Church sleei:)s 
 as undistinguished in death as the poorest of her subjects. 
 
 The coronation medal of Anne bears the impression of her 
 profile representing her as very fat and swollen, her throat 
 exceedingly short and thick ; on the reverse of the medal is 
 a heart crowned amid oaken foliage, surrounded by a legend 
 of the words. Entirely English, from her speech on the 
 opening her first parliament. An altar in front bears an in- 
 scription in Latin which means " Descended from a race of 
 kings." Another medal bears the queen's head, depicting 
 her still fatter and thicker ; it was struck on the ajjpoint- 
 ment of her husband. Prince George, as high admiral ; his 
 likeness occupies the other side ; the lower part of his face 
 is enormously thick ; yet his profile would have been hand- 
 some, but for a very odd expression of face, as if he were 
 turning up his mouth at his own nose. 
 
 There were several difterent designs in the medals given, 
 or thrown, at the queen's coronation, but the princij^al was 
 the " Entirely English" heart. In the queen's great seal, she 
 is, like her ancestors, represented on horseback, crowned with 
 the arched crown, from which flies a most elaborate ribbon 
 or scarf; her hair flows in curls on her neck, which is uncov- 
 ered, all but a throat pearl necklace ; the royal mantle, lined 
 with ermine, flows over her shoulders. She holds the scep- 
 tre in her hand and the globe in her lajD. She sits full in 
 front, as if on the step side-saddle. The other side presents 
 her in the same dress, but enthroned. After the union with 
 Scotland, this seal was superseded by another, in which the 
 equestrian reverse was replaced by a figure of Britannia 
 
17U.] ANNE. 627 
 
 seated on the ledge of a rock which towers above the head ; 
 her shield bears the arms of England and Scotland parted 
 per pale ; before Britannia are a rose and thistle growing on 
 one stem, with the state crown of Britain suspended over 
 them. Among the emblems around the enthroned queen on 
 the front of the medal, is the unicorn supporter of Scotland, 
 holding the national flag, on which the crosses of St. Andrew 
 and St. George are intersected. 
 
 The new king was expected to take possession of the throne 
 directly the vault of the royal Stuart sovereigns of Great 
 Britain was forever closed up ; but, in perfect consistency with 
 the moderation and honorable abstinence from intrigue to gain 
 this vast accession of dominion, for which every one must al- 
 low George I. due credit, his majesty did not hasten his jour- 
 ney to England, which remained six weeks without the pres- 
 ence of any sovereign ; thus giving the people ample time by 
 their acquiescence to confirm his succession. Lord Berkeley 
 commanded the fleet which was dispatched to Orange Polder, 
 in Holland, to await the embarkation of George I. according 
 to his pleasure. The king did not arrive at Greenwich until 
 the 16th of September. lie assumed the regal functions 
 without any oj^position. 
 
628 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [166G. 
 
 Sophia of Zell, wife of George I. From tlie Strawberry HiU drawing. 
 
 SOPHIA DOROTHEA OF ZELL, 
 
 CONSORT OF GEORGE I., KING OF GREAT BRITAIN 
 AND IRELAND. 
 
 The ancestors of the Princess of Zell, who became the wife 
 of the Crown Prince of Hanover, were fugitives from France 
 at the ignominious epoch of the revocation of the edict of 
 Nantes by Louis XIV. Among the many noble Protestant 
 families who then sought safety by flight to a foreign land, was 
 that of Alexander d'Esmiers, Marquis d'Oltruse, a native and 
 inhabitant of Poictiers. The chief consolation of this person's 
 exile, and the most valuable wealth he possessed, was his only 
 daughter Eleanora, who accompanied him. He took refuge in 
 
1G82.J SOPHIA DOROTHEA OF ZELL. 629 
 
 Brussels. His daughter was received into the suite of the fasci- 
 nating Duchess of Tarento ; but she excelled all her associates, 
 her rivals, and even her mistress in the potency of her charms. 
 Eleauora subsequently married the Duke of Zell, by a morga- 
 natic arrangement which made her his wife in the eyes of tlie 
 church, but not in the estimation of the law, and which neither 
 secured her the privileges of his rank nor the the inheritance 
 of his possessions. The first oifspring of this union was Sophia 
 Dorothea of Zell, Avho was born September 15th, 1666, and 
 was destined to a singular and melancholy fate. 
 
 This princess was only sixteen when her union with Prince 
 George of Hanover, afterward George I. of England, took 
 place in 1682. The lady was remarkable for her vivacious 
 and excitable disjDOsition, which she inherited from her 
 mother ; as well as for the beauty of her person and the ele- 
 gance of her manners. At the diminutive but very gay court 
 of Zell, she had been brought up to habits of coquetry and 
 even perhaps of gallantry. In no respect was this fascinating 
 creature adapted to the dull, sober and heavy prince, who was 
 her husband, and it very soon became evident that their mar- 
 riage would prove a very unhappy or at least a very unconge- 
 nial one. 
 
 While the crown prince amused himself in his palace, and 
 more especially when he was absent in the wars, his wife in- 
 dulged in every species of frivolity and elegant dissipation. In 
 a short time she allowed herself a still more inexcusable de- 
 gree of liberty ; for her rank, her beauty, her accomplishments, 
 and her wit, natui-ally rendered her the object of the amorous 
 regard of several of the most accomplished and noble gallants 
 of the day, who happened then to reside at the court of Han- 
 over. 
 
 That Sophia had a cold selfish libertine for a husband, there 
 can be no reasonable doubt ; but that the bad husband had 
 a bad wife is equally clear. She was married to her cousin 
 for money or convenience, as princesses usually are. Slie was 
 beautiful, lively, witty and accomplished ; his brutality outraged 
 her, his silence and coldness chilled her, his cruelty insulted her. 
 No wonder she could not love him. How could love be a 
 pai't of such a marriage as that? 
 
 Unfortunately for her, there was in the court of her husband a 
 man whose remarkable graces of person were celebrated not 
 only in his own time, but have been the theme of wonder in 
 succeeding generations — Philip von Koenigsmark. 
 
 This man made a conquest not only of the heart of the 
 lovely electress, but inspired a passion in a hideous old court 
 
(530 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1683-1684. 
 
 lady, the Countess of Platen. The Princess Sophia loved 
 him with great constancy for many years. She wished to fly 
 with him, to quit her odious husband at any rate. 
 
 She besought her parents to take lier back, and talked of 
 taking refuge in France and becoming a Catholic. 
 
 This guilty intercourse was destined, after a considerable 
 period of secret indulgence, to meet with a disastrous and 
 fearful termination. The lovers frequently met, nor was their 
 conduct controlled by much prudence, the princess some- 
 times even going so far as to visit Koenigsmark at his hotel. 
 She frankly assured hij^ji in one of her letters, " that if he 
 thought that the fear of exposure or of losing her reputation 
 would prevent her from seeing him, he did her heart great 
 injustice ; that his society and his love were to her more pre- 
 cious than her life." 
 
 The behavior of the lovers Avas in accordance with such an 
 expression of feeling. 
 
 Obtuse and indifferent as George of Hanover was, this con- 
 nection did not escape his notice and that of his vigilant and 
 jealous courtiers. Among the most malignant and artful of 
 the latter was the Countess von Platen, who had herself loved 
 Koenigsmark, and been repulsed by him. She was a woman 
 of strong passions and profound craft, and her enmity to the 
 beautiful young princess was sharpened by every look and 
 word of admiration which the young beauty received. The 
 countess feared that she might lose her place in the counsels 
 and affections of the old elector, should his daughter-in-law 
 become too charming to him. 
 
 The most potent art by which von Platen managed the 
 l^rince was flattery ; Avhile to this quality she added some 
 ability to amuse his narrow and commonplace mind. The 
 consequences of these and other influences which the countess 
 skillfully directed was, that soon the unfortunate princess lost 
 the affection and esteem of her husband, who at length treat- 
 ed her with positive rudeness and insult. 
 
 The birth of a son in 1683 and of a daughter in 1684, pro- 
 duced no improvement in their relations. The grand climax 
 of von Platen's hatred, both upon the princess and Count 
 von Koenigsmark, Avas yet to be achieved, and she patiently 
 waited for a favorable and propitious moment. 
 
 The imprudent lovers themselves unfortunately furnished their 
 enemy with the opportunity she desired. They had adopted 
 the desperate resolve to escape together, first to Hamburg 
 and thence to France. On the first of July, 1694, at eleven 
 at night, Koenigsmark paid a secret visit to the princess in 
 
1G94.] SOPfflA DOROTHEA OF ZELL. 631 
 
 her apartments in the palace, for the purpose of making the 
 last arrangements previous to their flight. He was disguised 
 on this occasion in the simple attire of a tradesman. His serv- 
 ants and carriage were waiting for them at the rear of pal- 
 ace gardens, ready to start instantly for Dresden. 
 
 All these secret plans had been detected by the malignant 
 shrewdness of the Countess von Platen; and she eagerly took 
 the occasion to gratify her own revenge and vindicate the out- 
 raged honor of tlie electoral family. 
 
 When Koenigsmark left the apartments of the princess, he 
 traversed the long corridor, till he cajjie to a small door in the 
 rear, usually left unlocked for his convenience ; this he found 
 bolted, and he was obliged to retrace his steps, titl he came to 
 the ante-room, which was built over the court chapel, in which 
 there was an immense fire-place. In this dark recess four 
 halberdiers had been stationed by the command of the prince, 
 through the agency of von Platen ; and when the unsuspect- 
 ing Koenigsmark approached them he was suddenly and furi- 
 ously attacked. He drew his sword and defended himself 
 with great bravery for some time ; but was finally overpower- 
 ed by superior numbers, and mortally wounded. He was im- 
 mediately dragged into an adjoining apartment, where his dead- 
 ly enemy the Countess von Platen awaited him. As soon as 
 Koenigsmark saw her, he gathered all his remaining strength, 
 and overwhelmed her with maledictions. To these the indig- 
 nant woman responded by stamping with her feet on the up- 
 turned bleeding face, whose handsome features she had once 
 so ardently admired. Before life was extinct, the body was 
 hurried into a small cellar, Avhich could be filled with water, 
 by means of a pipe. There the unhappy count was drowned ; 
 and the next morning his remains were buried in an oven in 
 the vaults of the palace and securely walled up. 
 
 The Crown Princess Sophia, as soon as she learned the terri- 
 ble details, abandoned herself to the most intense paroxysms 
 of indignation and grief. She declared her determination to 
 live no longer with such blood-thirsty murderers. She even 
 attempted to destroy hei'self. Her violent conduct and the 
 fierce invectives she used against her husband and her father- 
 in-law, deepened the unfriendly feeling already existing be- 
 tween them ; and the scandal of the family quarrel became 
 notorious. 
 
 Proceedings were then instituted for a separation, and the 
 ]M'incess was ultimately condemned to imprisonment for life. 
 She solemnly denied her guilt on oath, and so did her lady in 
 wailing ; the recent publication of the confidential letters of 
 
632 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [J694. 
 
 the lovers, however, clearly proves the falsehood of their dec- 
 larations of innocence. 
 
 The formal separation between the crown prince and his 
 wife took place in Hanover on the 2Sth of October, 1694, 
 The latter was at that time twenty-eight years of age. She 
 was immediately conveyed to the fortress of Ahlden, situated 
 a few miles from Zell, in the territory of her father. Thei'e 
 she was at first closely confined, though she was allowed every 
 comfort and luxury which she desired. 
 
 She was not allowed to enjoy the society of her two children. 
 Her son, afterward George H. of England, was then ten years 
 old, and her daughter, Sophia Dorothea, who afterward mar- 
 ried the Prince of Prussia, was two years younger. During 
 .the infancy of these children their mother had always exhib- 
 ited the utmost affection and solicitude for them, which the 
 progress of time and the influence of absence never dimin- 
 ished. The young princess afterward became the mother of 
 Frederic the Great. 
 
 The imprisonment of the Princess Sophia continued during 
 the long period of thirty-two years. Her revenues were con- 
 siderable ; and she spent them in the maintenance of a select 
 and agreeable circle of friends around her, consisting of a num- 
 ber of ladies and gentlemen. The commandant of the for- 
 tress dined with her regularly every day. She employed and 
 amused herself chiefly in the management of her estates, with 
 needlework, with reading, and with the society of her chosen 
 associates. She was allowed to drive out occasionally from 
 the fortress, attended by an escort. 
 
 When the death of Queen Anne, in 1714, called the Elec- 
 tor of Hanover to the English throne, a proposition was made 
 to her by a commission of learned jurists, to accept her liberty 
 and accompany him. To this offer the Princess Sophia re- 
 plied with truth as well as spirit, " If I am guilty of the crimes 
 with which I have been charged, then I am not worthy to 
 share my husband's throne ; if I am innocent, then he is unde- 
 serving my society or my friendship." She decided to remain 
 at Ahlden. 
 
 Some years later, however, the princess changed her mind, 
 and endeavored to make her escape from the fortress. She 
 gave a certain Count de Bar a hundred and thirty florins to 
 aid her in her flight. This vile wretch having obtained pos- 
 session of the bribe, betrayed her ; and the baseness of this 
 treason, together with the consequent exposure and mortifica- 
 tion, disturbed her repose for the remainder of her life. 
 
 During her imprisonment the Princess Sophia Dorothea 
 
172G.] SOPHIA DOROTHEA OF ZELL. 633 
 
 wrote her personal memoirs. This work began with the re- 
 turn of Philip von Koenigsmark to the court of Hanover in 
 1685, and continued until the last illness of the authoress in 
 the Castle of Ahlden. The purpose of this production was to 
 vindicate the honor and innocence of the princess ; but no ef- 
 fort of ingenuity nor plausible reasoning has ever been able to 
 purify her tarnished fame, nor to make the world believe that 
 she was an injured and blameless woman. 
 
 However, if a woman can ever be said to have an excuse 
 for such conduct, hers may be found in the fact that her hus- 
 band set her the example not only of unfiiithl'ulness, but of a 
 revolting degree of licentiousness, and he had no right to ex- 
 pect a greater amount of virtue in his wife than tliat which 
 he himself displayed. On the 2d of November, 1*726, after a 
 tedious and suffering illness, the unhappy Sophia Dorothea, 
 wife of the King of England, died at the Castle of Ahlden. 
 She had endured a cheerless captivity of more than thirty 
 years, during twelve of which her husband had worn the crown 
 of Great Britain. Before she expired she blessed her children, 
 forgave her enemies and oppressoi's, and solemnly summoned 
 her absent husband, the chief cause of her sufferings, as she 
 asserted, to meet her at the judgment bar of God within a 
 year after her own death. 
 
 As soon as George I. was informed of the death of the 
 princess, he ordered an announcement to be made in the 
 Gazette to the effect that a Duchess of Ahlden had expired at 
 her residence in Germany, but no allusion to the fact that in 
 her death the monarch had lost a wife and his children a 
 mother. 
 
 George I. survived his wife only a short time. He died 
 at Osnaburg, June 11th, 1727. The singular appearance of 
 his countenance after death, gave rise to the story among the 
 irreverent multitude, that the devil had choked the king to 
 death, at the instance of his wife, by twisting his neck. 
 
 Bb2 
 
634 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1683. 
 
 Queen Caroline. From a painting by Vauderback. 
 
 CAROLINE WILHELMINA DOROTHEA OF 
 AUSPACH. 
 
 CONSORT OF GEORGE II., KING OF GREAT BRITAIN AND 
 IRELAND. 
 
 The Princess Caroline was a daughter of John Fredei'ic, 
 Marqnis of Brandenburg Auspach, and of Eleanor Erdmuth 
 Louisa, his second wife, daughter of John George, Duke of 
 Saxe Eisenach. She was born in 1683, and married the 
 Electoral Prince of Hanover, afterward George IT., in the 
 yeai- 1705. The Electress of Bi-anrlenburg was the daugh- 
 ter of Sophia, the old Electress of Hanover, and sister to 
 George I. 
 
1705.] CAEOLINE WILHELMINA DOROTHEA. 635 
 
 Early in her life many suitors offered themselves for the 
 hand of Caroline of Auspach, among others King Charles 
 of Spain, but she refused to change her religion from Prot- 
 estantism to Catholicism, and another of the German prin- 
 cesses was chosen in her place. 
 
 Caroline was a very accomplished young lady, and much 
 of such accomplishments was owing to the careful education 
 she had received at the hands of her mother and the first 
 but short-lived Queen of Prussia. If the instructress was 
 able, the pupil also was apt. She was quick, inquiring, intel- 
 ligent and studious. Her application was great, her perse- 
 verance unvaried, and her memory excellent. She learned 
 quickly and retained largely, seldom forgetting any thing 
 worth remembrance. Her perception of character has per- 
 haps never been surjxassed. Her husband was gi-eatly her 
 inferior, and through life she always exercised a very great 
 influence over him. 
 
 The first fruit of their marriage was Prince Frederic, whom 
 both of his parents cordially hated and despised. Their 
 second son William, afterward Duke of Cumberland, was 
 always their favorite. 
 
 The early married life of Caroline and George was one of 
 some gayety if not felicity. She showed much indifference to 
 the prospect of a crown. Baron Piluitz says in his memoirs 
 that the Princess Caroline said " that both her father-in-law 
 and husband were already kings in her eyes, because they 
 highly deserved that title." Of her conduct as Princess of 
 Wales, the same writer says that she favored neither political 
 party and was equally esteemed by each. 
 
 The Princess of Wales, after the accession of George I., 
 presided over the establishment at Leicester Fields with 
 great dignity and decorum. 
 
 It was during her residence here that the princess and her 
 husband exercised a courage which caused great admiration 
 in Leicester House and a doubtful sort of applause through- 
 out the country. Lady Mary Wortley Montague had just 
 reported the successful result of inoculation for the small-pox 
 Avhich she had witnessed in Constantinople. Dr. Mead was 
 ordered by the prince to inoculate six criminals condemned 
 to death, but whose lives were spared for this experiment. 
 It succeeded admirably, and the patients Avere more satisfied 
 with the results than any one else. In the year following 
 Caroline allowed Dr. Mead to inoculate her two daughters, 
 and the attempt was completely successful. 
 
 The chief cause of annoyance to which the prince and 
 
636 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1727. 
 
 princess were subjected previous to their accession was their 
 aversion from their eldest son. It is difficult at this late day 
 to discover with any certainty the real cause of that repug- 
 nance, though many reasons have been assigned for it. His 
 parents did not permit him to accompany them, even when 
 they first came to England. He was born in 1*707, and seems 
 always to have exhibited two predominant qualities, both of 
 which were repulsive and unamiable. These were his spite- 
 fulness and his cunning. His morals were always bad. He 
 was addicted from veiy early life to lying, drinking, gaming, 
 cheating, and gross licentiousness. 
 
 So completely had his conduct alienated the affections of 
 his mother, that she would have rejoiced had she been able 
 to deprive him of his birthright, and she would have accom- 
 plished her purpose had not the colossal barrier of the law 
 rendered her success absolutely impossible. Frederic was 
 not allowed to visit England until after his father ascended 
 the throne. 
 
 Previous to the accession of the Prince of Wales, and es- 
 pecially during the several concluding years of the reign of 
 ills ftither, there may be said to have existed two courts and 
 two sources of authority in England, and it required the utmost 
 craft and shrewdness on the part of the trimming courtiers 
 and statesmen of the time, to conduct their relations with 
 both courts in such a manner as not to lose the favor of the 
 powers that were, and yet at the same time not fall under 
 the ban of the powers that were soon to be. 
 
 At length in June, 1727, occurred the great event which ex- 
 ercised so great and decisive an influence upon the nation and 
 upon the fortunes of the courtiers. The haughty, pompous, 
 consequential, diminutive Prince of Wales became George II., 
 King of England, and Electoral Sovereign of Hanover. 
 
 Information of the death of George I. was conveyed by ex- 
 press to London on the afternoon of July 14, 1727. His suc- 
 cessor was then in Richmond, and hither a crowd of courtiers 
 instantly rushed, in order to tender their homage to the new 
 sovereign. Among the number was Robert Walpole, the late 
 prime minister. To his great disappointment, the king named 
 some one else in his place. The new prime minister cut down 
 the yearly allowance of the queen to sixty thousand pounds. 
 Sir Robert immediately sent word to her majesty, Queen Car- 
 oline, that if he were retained as prime minister he would se- 
 cure to her an allowance of a hundi'ed thousand pounds per 
 annum. 
 
 The queen was unable to withstand this potent bribe ; and 
 
1735.] CAROLINE WILHELMINA DOROTHEA. C37 
 
 exerted all her influence with the king to obtain the retention 
 of Walpole at the head of the administration. She succeeded ; 
 and many years of additional power, anxiety and glory were 
 added to the political life of that extraordinary man. 
 
 The coronation of George II. and Caroline was performed 
 with great gorgeousness of taste, though of a somewhat bar- 
 barous qi;ality. The ceremony was the most splendid that 
 liad been seen for years. George, in spite of his low stature 
 and fair hair, which heightened the weakness of his expression 
 at this period, was said to be " every inch a king." 
 
 Caroline was not inferior to her lord. She wore a superb 
 pearl necklace, which had belonged to Queen Anne. There 
 were no other crown jewels, for the late king had given them 
 all away to his different favorites, male and female. 
 
 Queen Caroline borrowed and hired many more jewels of 
 Jews, jewelers and others, so, as Lord Harvey (the writer from 
 Avhom the account is taken) says, " the appearance and the 
 truth of her finery was a mixture of magnificence and mean- 
 ness, not unlike the eclat of royalty in many other particulars, 
 when it comes to be nicely examined, and its sources traced to 
 what money hires and what flattery lends." 
 
 Lord Harvey says that " Sir Robert Walpole was the 
 queen's minister; that whoever he favored she distinguished, 
 and whoever she distinguished the king employed." The 
 queen ruled without seeming to rule. She was mistress by 
 the power of suggestion. Caroline directed almost all busi- 
 ness both at home and abroad. It is too much to say that 
 her power was unbounded, but it was doubtless very great. 
 
 The domestic life of George II. at this period was not one 
 of much comfort, dignity or decency. In 17B4 Mrs. Howard, 
 who had been for many years his mistress, married, and was 
 dismissed from her disgraceful relation to the monarch. 
 
 In 1735 the king made a visit to Hanover. He appointed 
 the queen regent during his absence, which lie expected 
 would continue six months. The conduct of the monarch on 
 this occasion was disgraceful in the extreme. He wrote al- 
 most daily to the queen enormous letters, in which he loaded 
 her with praises. At the same time he seduced a young 
 married woman named Walraoden, residing in the court of 
 Hanover, had the turpitude to induce her to desert her hus- 
 band, and disgraced her and him in the eyes of the world 
 by making her his acknowledged mistress. To render his 
 conduct still more singular, in his interminable letters to his 
 queen, he gave her all the details of this amour, and even ask- 
 ed her advice in reference to the woman's removal to En- 
 
638 QUEENS OE ENGLAND. [1733. 
 
 gland, and bespoke for her the aft'ection of his wife ! He also 
 urged her to write the daughter of the Duke of Orleans to 
 visit her court, in order that he might begin an intrigue with 
 her. In regard to some interesting jDoints, he suggested to 
 her to consult with Sir Robert Walpole as an oracle of sa- 
 gacity and wisdom. We question whether a parallel to such 
 incidents could be found in the whole range of royal or 
 pi'incely correspondence. And what language is too harsh to 
 stigmatize the coarseness of a woman, and that woman a 
 queen, who could quietly bear such vulgarity and yet still love 
 the man after it ? 
 
 Mrs. Howard, after the king's return, came back to the 
 court to be a lady of the bed-chamber. It was suggested that 
 the queen should give 1200/. a year to her husband for his 
 consent to his wife's being retained in the queen's household. 
 Caroline replied to this suggestion with as high a tone as she 
 could have used when addressing herself to Mr. Howard, but 
 with a coarseness of spirit and sentiment which hardly became 
 a queen, although they do not seem to have been considered 
 vmbecoming in a queen at that time. " I thought," said Car- 
 oline, "I thought I had done full enough, and that it was a 
 little too much, not only to keep the king's '• gneidpes' (trol- 
 lops) under my roof, but to pay them too. I pleaded poverty 
 to my good Lord Trevor, and said I would do any thing to 
 keep so good a servant as Mrs. Howard about me; but that 
 for the 1200?. a year, I really could not aiford it." 
 
 The king used to make presents to the queen of fine Hano- 
 verian horses, not that she might be gratified, but that he 
 might, when he wanted them, have horses maintained out of 
 her purse. So he gave her a bed-chamber woman in Mrs. 
 Howard ; but Caroline refused to have her on the same terms 
 as the horses, and the 1200?. a year was probably paid — not 
 by the king, but by the whole people. 
 
 The social happiness of Caroline began now to be affected 
 by the conduct of her son Frederic, Prince of Wales. Since 
 his arrival in England, his parents had refused to pay his 
 debts, contracted in Hanover. He was soon in the arms of 
 the opposition, and the court had no more violent an enemy, 
 political or personal, than this prince. 
 
 In the year 1733, the marriage of the eldest daughter of 
 Caroline was arranged with the Prince of Orange. This 
 prince had a wry neck and a halt in his gait, and was the ug- 
 liest man in Holland, and his temper and character in every 
 way fitted to his external characteristics. 
 
 The princess had lived to be twenty -four, and was anxious 
 
1735-173G.] CAROLINE WILHELMINA DOROTHEA. 639 
 
 to marry, and was determined to marry the Prince of Orange. 
 When the marriage was fairly over, the heart of the queen 
 was much moved as she looked on the misshapen bridegroom. 
 She fairly cried with mingled vexation, disappointment, and 
 disgust. She could not even revert to the subject for days 
 after without crying, and laughing too, whenever the bride- 
 groom's ugliness came across her mind. 
 
 In 1735, Prince Frederic, the heir-apparent, threatened to 
 bring the matter of his limited pecuniary allowance before 
 Parliament. To avoid the disgrace and vexation of this step, 
 Queen Caroline adroitly proposed to marry the prince to 
 somebody, and the accomplished and handsome Augusta of 
 Saxe Coburg was the lady on whom the choice fell. In the 
 session of Parliament in 1736, the prince's marriage was first 
 discussed, and a proposition was made to give the prince a 
 hundred thousand pounds a year, out of the civil list. It was 
 on this occasion that William Pitt, the most illustrious and 
 powerfid statesman who has ever guided the destinies of the 
 British nation, made his maiden speech. After an animated 
 debate the motion was lost, and Prince Frederic was compel- 
 led to accept such a support as his royal father was disposed 
 to allow him. 
 
 On the 23d of April, 1736, the Princess Augusta arrived in 
 England, and was received with great cordiality by the king, 
 queen, and their court. 
 
 Soon after the marriage the king left England to visit the 
 fascinating Walmoden again, according to promise. He again 
 appointed the queen, regent in his absence. During this time 
 there wei*e numerous riots in England, which the queen and 
 Walpole suppressed as best they might. While they were 
 thus engaged the king was luxuriating in the charms of the 
 fair Walmoden in Hanover, and so happy was he, that he 
 overstayed his birthday. This was an event that had never 
 before occurred, and the consciousness of its disgraceful cause 
 inflicted intense suffering upon the heart of the queen. Once 
 only was she seen by her attendants to weep. She instantly 
 mastered her feelings, probably being consoled by the just 
 reflection that the worthless and conceited libeitine whom she 
 had the misfortune to call her husband was unworthy of her 
 sensibility. 
 
 It will readily be supposed that the break between the mem- 
 bers of the royal family did not grow any the less with time, 
 and the queen and her daughters were not backward in ex- 
 pressing their cordial hatred for their brother. Prince Fred- 
 eric, according to courtly etiquette, led his royal mother in to 
 
640 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1736. 
 
 dinner every day, and yet she repeatedly "cursed the day in 
 which she had given birth to the nauseous beast." His sister, 
 the Princess Caroline, was equally malignant, and prayed pub- 
 licly and repeatedly that God would " strike the brute with 
 apoplexy." The king spoke of him always as an " imperti- 
 nent puppy and scoundrel." Such was the singular state of 
 feeling prevailing among the members of the royal family, both 
 male and female. 
 
 The chief defect in the character of this queen, was the 
 coarseness and bitterness displayed by her in reference to this 
 subject. 
 
 The attention of the royal family and of the public was now 
 attracted by the approaching birth of an heir to the throne. 
 Caroline appears to have disbelieved the truth of this hope. 
 She was so desirous of the succession's falling to her second 
 son William, that she made no scruple of expressing her dis- 
 belief of what to most other observers was apparent enough. 
 She questioned the princess, who returned only one answer, " I 
 don't know." Caroline on her side determined to be better 
 instructed. "I will positively be present," she exclaimed, 
 " when the promised event takes place ;" adding with her usual 
 coarseness of expression, " It can't be got through as soon as 
 Ave can blow one's nose ; and I am resolved to see if the child 
 is hers." 
 
 As the hour of the princess approached, her husband re- 
 solved to disappoint the interference and scrutiny of his par- 
 ents, and remove his wife to his own residence of St. James. 
 He accomplished this purpose at midnight, on the 31st of 
 July, only a few hours before the birth of the child, which 
 proved to be a daughter. 
 
 Lord Harvey and Queen Caroline soon after arrived : and 
 the former describes the infant as a " little rat, no bigger than 
 a tooth-pick case." The queen, taking the child in her arms, 
 closely examined it and exclaimed : " May the good God bless 
 you, poor little creature, for you have arrived in a most disa- 
 greeable world." And the subsequent fate during many long 
 years amply verified the declaration of the queen ; for she 
 afterward became the wife of the Duke of Brunswick, and the 
 mother of the unhappy wife of George IV., in connection with 
 both of whom she suffered infinite sorrows. 
 
 But the birth of this princess did not alleviate the existing 
 family feuds. After an interval of nine days, the queen again 
 visited her daughter-in-law. She remained an hour, during 
 which time the Prince of Wales did not address a single word 
 to his mother. Etiquette required that he should conduct his 
 
1737.] CAROLINE WILHELMINA DOROTHEA. G41 
 
 mother to her carriage, and he performed even this duty in a 
 manner that rendered the courtesy a vehicle for insult. 
 
 This was the last occasion on which Caroline ever saw her 
 son, so unexpectedly near was the death of this queen. 
 
 The conduct of Caroline when Sir John Bernard proposed 
 to reduce the interest on the national debt from four to three 
 per cent., again presents her to us in a very unfavorable 
 light. 
 
 Not only the queen but the king also was most energet- 
 ically opposed to the passage of the bill. People conjectured 
 that their majesties were large fund-holders, and did not like 
 the idea of losing a quarter of the income thence arising for 
 the good of the nation. The bill was ultimately thrown out, 
 chiefly through the opposition of Walpole. 
 
 About this time the queen was taken very ill with the gout. 
 She was so unwell and so weary of being alone, and so desir- 
 ous of chatting with Lord Harvey, that she now for the first 
 time broke through the court etiquette, which -Avould not ad- 
 mit any man save the sovereign into the royal bed-chamber. 
 The noble lord was with her every day, while her confinement 
 lasted. She was too old, she said, to have the honor of being 
 talked of for it ; and so to suit her humor the old ceremony 
 was dispensed with. Lord Harvey sat and gossiped by her 
 bedside the live-long day ; and on one occasion when the Prince 
 of Wales sent Lord North with a message of inquiry after her 
 health, he amused the queen by turning the message into slip- 
 shod verse, which seems to imply that the prince would have 
 been M^ell content had the gout, instead of being in her foot, 
 attacked her stomach. 
 
 In 1737, Queen Caroline began to feel the certain approach 
 of death. For some years she had been afflicted with rupture ; 
 but she had imprudently concealed both the nature and exis- 
 tence of her malady from her medical attendants, and even 
 from her husband. She always shuddered at the thought of 
 death, and she avoided all allusions and references to so re- 
 pulsive a subject. She also feared that if it were known that 
 she was thus afflicted, the possibility of her death might dimin- 
 ish her influence over her husband and his courtiers. But the 
 monarch long suspected, from certain indications Avhich the 
 queen could not conceal, that she was thus diseased ; but to 
 all liis inquiries she constantly returned a positive and absolute 
 denial. 
 
 Sir Robert Walpole, in the long interviews which he had 
 with her, discovered that she was suffering from some secret 
 malady ; but she endeavored to deceive him also, and often 
 
042 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1737. 
 
 stood for a considerable time in his presence to convince him 
 of the fallacy of his conjectures. 
 
 But this system of deception could not last forever, and at 
 length in August, 1*737, the queen became worse. A report 
 was soon spread that she was dead, but it was premature. 
 She rallied for a few weeks, yet on the 9lh of November she 
 was seized with the ilhiess that terminated in her dissolution. 
 Even yet she managed to conceal from her physicians the true 
 nature of her illness. On the 12th of November, Dr. Ranby 
 was permitted to examine the person of the queen, and he sat- 
 isfied himself as to the real cause of her suiferings. So morti- 
 fied was she at the discovery that she burst into tears. 
 
 Shipton and Bussier, the most distinguished surgeons of the 
 time, were summoned. After an examination, they promptly 
 suggested an operation. The patient submitted, and endured 
 the agony which ensued without a murmur. Her Avit and 
 sarcasm did not forsake her even when under the knife ; for 
 she remarked to Dr. Ranby, the operator at the moment, that 
 she had no doubt he was sorry that his patient was, not her- 
 self, but his ugly old wife. 
 
 While in this critical condition she was thrown into a parox- 
 ysm of rage in consequence of a message from Prince Frederic 
 of inquiry after her health. She knew that the information 
 was asked in the spirit of satirical exultation ; and almost with 
 her dying breath she cursed her son, whom she hated with a 
 hatred passing that of a step-mother. She besought the king 
 not to permit the reprobate to approach her chamber while 
 living, nor to see her remains when dead ; she said she knew 
 " he would blubber like a calf in her presence, and laugh at her 
 the moment he left it." 
 
 On Sunday, the 13th, Queen Caroline became much worse. 
 The wound had begun to mortify. The queen Avas apprised 
 of her danger, and received the announcement with great 
 calmness and self-possession. The feeble-minded king was 
 much more affected than she. As her last hour was supposed 
 to be near, all the royal family were summoned to her bedside, 
 except the Prince of Wales and the Princess of Orange, who 
 was absent. 
 
 Then ensued one of the most remarkable death-bed scenes 
 ever witnessed either among princes or peasants. The queen 
 took a solemn leave of her children. She spoke kindly to her 
 daughter Amelia. She used still more tender words to the 
 Princess Caroline. Her farewell to her favorite son the heir 
 of CuUoden was affecting in the extreme. Her two youngest 
 daughters Louisa and Mary she intrusted to tlie special care 
 
1737.] CAROLINE WILHELMINA DOROTHEA. 043 
 
 of the gentle Caroline. The utterances of the queen were 
 rendered almost inaudible by the exclamations of grief which 
 filled the chamber. Last of all the king approached to bid his 
 wife farewell. She took from her finger her marriage-ring, 
 and placed it on the finger of her husband. She declared 
 that for all the greatness and happiness which had fixlien to 
 her share in this world she was indebted alone to him, and 
 that all she possessed should return to hini. The little mon- 
 arch seemed overcome by his emotions, and he was heard to 
 exclaim, amid his sobs and groans, that she had been to him 
 the best of wives. The dying queen was comforted by this 
 assurance; and proceeded to say that she hoped he would 
 marry again after her death. He appeared to be quite as- 
 tounded at this suggestion ; and declared that, after the loss 
 of so admirable a wife, he never could think of placing any sub- 
 stitute in her stead. The queen persisted in her recommenda- 
 tion, and he in his refusal ; but at length in the midst of his 
 heart-breaking sobs he added that, though he could never 
 marry again, he might go so far as to take a mistress or two. 
 " My God !" exclaimed the queen, almost with her dying 
 breath, " why not do both ? One does not ^^I'event the 
 other !" 
 
 After this she sunk very rapidly. During the last the roy- 
 al patient became profanely impatient and restless. "How 
 long can this last ?" she demanded of her physician. He re- 
 ])lied: "It can not be long before your majesty will be relieved 
 from your sufferings." " The sooner that happens the better," 
 was her sharp response. Sunday, the 20th of September, 1737, 
 was the last day she was destined to live. She now was 
 fxiling fast, the mortification had greatly extended, and at 
 eleven o'clock in the morning, drawing a deep sigh, uttering 
 the word " So" with a deep aspiration, and with a queenly 
 and farewell Avave of the hand, she gently expired. 
 
 The king's grief for her was deep and sincere ; he talked of 
 nothing else but her virtues for months after her death. He 
 was in the habit of assuring his courtiers that she was the 
 only woman in the world whom he would have married ; and 
 declared that if he could not Iiave made her his wife, she 
 should inevitably have been his mistress. 
 
 The only word or deed of the king in reference to her 
 which deserves to be recorded to his praise, was the order 
 which he gave that the salaries of all her officers and servants 
 should be continued, as well as her benefactions to charitable 
 institutions, so that no one might suffer by her death but him- 
 self. 
 
644 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 She left six children. Frederic Prince of Wales died be- 
 fore his father, so that her grandson instead of her son was 
 the next reigning sovereign, George II. survived her twenty- 
 three years. He could never to his dying day speak of his 
 queen without emotion, and said of her " that he never knew 
 a Nvoman who was worthy to buckle her shoe." 
 
 Miidal of George II. 
 
1744.] CHARLOTTE SOPHIA. G45 
 
 CHARLOTTE SOPHIA, 
 
 CONSORT OF GEORGE III., KING OF GREAT BRITAIN AND 
 IRELAND. 
 
 Charlotte Sophia was the younger of the two daughters 
 of Charles Lewis, Duke of Mh-ow, by Albertina Elizabeth, a 
 princess of the ducal house of Saxe Hilburghausen. The 
 Duke of Mirow was the second son of the Duke of Mecklen- 
 burg Strelitz, and was a lieutenant-general in the service of 
 the Emperor of Germany when the Princess Charlotte was 
 born at Mirow, on the 16th of May, 1744. 
 
 At seven years of age she had for her instructress that 
 verse-writing Madame de Graten whom the Germans fondly 
 compared to Sappho. The post of instructress was shared 
 by many partners, but finally to the poetess succeeded a 
 philosopher. Dr. Geutzner, who, from the time of his under- 
 taking the office of instructor to that of the marriage of his 
 " serene" pupil, imparted to the latter a varied wisdom and 
 knowledge made uj) of Luthei'an divinity, natural histo- 
 ry and mineralogy. Charlotte not only cultivated these 
 branches of education with success, but others also. She 
 was a very fair linguist, spoke French perhaps better than 
 German, as Avas the fashion of her time and country, could 
 converse in Italian, and knew something of English. 
 
 Her style of drawing was about that of an ordinary ama- 
 teur ; she danced like a lady and played like an artist. 
 Better than all she was a woman of good sense, she had the 
 good fortune to be early taught the truths of revelation, and 
 she had the good taste to shape her course by their require- 
 ments. She was not without faults and she had a will of her 
 own. In short, she was a woman ; — a woman of sense and 
 spirit, but occasionally making mistakes like any other of 
 her sisters. 
 
 The letter which she is said to have addressed to the King 
 of Prussia and the alleged writing of Avhicli is said to have 
 won for her a crown, has been often printed, but well known 
 as it is, we can not omit it from her biography. Hai'dly any 
 one will believe that such a letter was written by a girl of 
 thirteen. 
 
 " May it please ^^our majesty — I am at a loss whether I 
 should congratulate or condole with you on your late victo- 
 
646 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1761. 
 
 ry over Marshal Dauii, Nov. 3, 1 760, since the same success 
 Avhich has covered you with laurels, has oversj^read the 
 country of Mecklenburg with desolation. I Icnow, sire, that 
 it seems unbecoming my sex, in this age of vicious refine- 
 ment, to feel for one's country, to lament the horrors of war, 
 or to wish for the return of peace. I know you may think 
 it more properly my j^rovince to study the arts of pleasing, 
 or to inspect subjects of a more domestic nature ; but how- 
 ever unbecoming it may be in me, I can not resist the desire 
 of interceding for this unhappy peoj^le. 
 
 " It was but a few years ago that this territory wore the 
 most pleasing aspect ; the country was cultivated, the peas- 
 ants looked cheerful, and the towns abounded with riches 
 and festivity. What an alteration at jn-esent from such a 
 charming scene ! I am not expert at description, nor can 
 my fancy add any horrors to the picture ; but, sure, even con- 
 querors themselves would weep at the hideous prospects now 
 before me. The whole country, my dear country, lies one 
 frightful waste, presenting only objects to excite terror, pity 
 and despair. The biisiness of tlie husbandman and the shep- 
 herd are quite discontinued. The husbandman and the 
 shej^herd are become soldiers themselves and help to ravage 
 the soil they formerly cultivated. The towns are inhabited 
 only by old men, old women and children, and perhaps here 
 and there a warrior, by Avounds or loss of limbs rendered 
 unfit for service, left at his door; his little children hang 
 round him, ask an history of every wound, and grow them- 
 selves soldiers, before they find strength for the field. But 
 this wei-e nothing, did we not feel the alternate insolence of 
 either army as it happens to advance or retreat in pursuing 
 the oi^erations of the campaign. It is impossible to express 
 the confusion even those who call themselves our friends 
 create ; even those from whom Ave might expect redress, op- 
 press with ncAV calamities. From your justice, therefore, it 
 is Ave hope relief To you CA^en Avomen and children may 
 complain, Avhose humanity stoops to the meanest petition 
 and Avhose poAver is capable of repressing the greatest injus- 
 tice." 
 
 The very reputation of haA'ing Avritten this letter, won for 
 its supi^osed author the croAvn-matrimonial of Great Britain. 
 In July, 1761, a proposal of marriage was made by George 
 III. to the Princess Charlotte. A favorable ansAver Avas read- 
 ily given. The treaty of marriage Avas signed at Strelitz 
 on th el 5th of August, and the Earl of Ilardwicke was sent 
 to escort the intended bride to Eno-land. 
 
CHARLOTTE SOPHIA. 
 
 647 
 
 
 
 
 George III. and his queen in the country. 
 
648 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [17G1. 
 
 She crossed the Channel m the fleet commanded by Admi- 
 ral Anson. The passage was stormy but not dangerous. 
 Having at length disembarked at Harwick, she began her 
 journey toward London, accompanied by an escort of noble 
 ladies and gentlemen. She retained her buoyant spirits until 
 she arrived in sight of the Palace of St. James, where her 
 public presentation was to take place. Plere she for the fii-st 
 time became somewhat disconcerted and grew pale. The 
 Duchess of Hamilton endeavored to reassure her, when she 
 replied : " My dear duchess, you may laugh, you have been 
 married twice ; but it's no joke to me !" She soon recovered 
 her usual self-possession ; her intended husband met her at 
 the palace gates ; and as she knelt on one knee to him, he 
 prevented her, and kissed her with more than an ordinary 
 show of princely aflx'Ction. During the whole scenes of her 
 presentation to the monarch and his court, she conducted 
 herself admirably and proved herself worthy of the high 
 alliance which had been tendered her. The marriage cere- 
 mony took place a few hours after her arrival, and was 
 celelirated in the chapel of the Palace of St. James. 
 
 Walpole says of her, that she looked sensible, cheerful and 
 remarkably genteel. He does not say that she was pretty, 
 and it must be confessed she was rather jjlain, too plain to 
 create a favorable impression upon the youthful monarch 
 whose heart was certainly occupied by the image of a lady, 
 who nevertheless figured that niglit among the bridesmaids, 
 — namely. Lady Sarah Lennox. " An involuntary expression 
 of the king's coiintenance," says Mi\ Galb, " revealed what 
 was passing witliin, but it was a passing cloud — the gener- 
 ous feelings of the monarch wei'c interested ; and the tender- 
 ness with which he henceforth treated Queen Charlotte was 
 uninterrupted until the moment of their final separation." 
 ■ Queen Charlotte's wedding-dress was of white and silver. 
 " An- endless mantle of violet velvet," says Walpole, " lined 
 Avith (^.rimson, and which, attempted to be fastened on her 
 shoulder by a bunch of large pearls, dragged itself and 
 almost the rest of her clothes halfway down to her waist." 
 
 Between the wedding and their coronation, the king and 
 queen appeared twice in public, once at their devotions and 
 once at the play. There was no royal state displayed on 
 these occasions. 
 
 The coronation passed with the usual ceremonies, and last- 
 ed into the evening. Nothing of note occurred unless we think 
 it such that the king, while moving with the crown on his 
 head, Avas so unfortunate as to droj) out the large diamond 
 
17G1.] CHARLOTTE SOPHIA. 649 
 
 in the upper portion of it. Had there been any one present 
 gifted with prophetic power, he might have deemed the loss 
 of the diamond typical of the loss of the jewel — America — 
 from the chaplet of the English possessions. 
 
 There was gi-eat gayety in town generally at this period. 
 The young queen announced that she would attend the opera 
 once a week — that seemed dissipation enough for her, who 
 had been educated with some strictness in the quietest and 
 smallest of the German courts. 
 
 Queen Charlotte and George III. were the last sovereigns 
 who honored the Lord-Mayor's Day, by being present at the 
 procession and ceremonies. Buckingham House was the first 
 present made by George HI. to his young queen. Every 
 vestige of the house has disappeared now, but it was a 
 stately building in its time. 
 
 Queen Charlotte had hardly been installed in this her own 
 house, when her husband began the formation of that in- 
 valuable library which her son, on demolishing the house, 
 made over to the nation, and which is now in the British 
 Museum. 
 
 The royal couple lived quietly, and when they were disposed 
 to be gay and in company, they already exhibited a spirit of 
 economy which may illustrate the saying that any virtue car- 
 ried to excess because a vice. 
 
 At a select party given by the royal bride and bridegroom 
 on the 26th of November, which began at nigh past six or 
 seven, the king danced the whole time with the queen and the 
 Princess Augusta, the future mother of the next Queen of En- 
 gland, with her four younger brothers. The dancing went on 
 uninterruptedly till one in the morning, when the hungry guests 
 separated without supper, and so ended the young couple's 
 first but not particularly hilarious party. 
 
 It was perhaps with reference to the queen's first supperless 
 party that Lord Chesterfield uttered a hon mot^ when an ad- 
 dition to the peerage was contemplated. When this was 
 mentioned in his presence, some one remarked — " I suppose 
 there will be no dukes made." " Oh ! yes, there will," ex- 
 claimed Lord Chesterfield, "there is to be one." Who?" 
 " Lord Talbot ; he is to be created Duke Humphrey, and 
 there is to be no table kept at court but his." If there he 
 a young reader ignorant of where " dining Avith Duke Hum- 
 phrey" takes its origin, to such it may be intimated that the 
 tomb of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, stood in old St. Paul's, 
 and in front of it was the walk of shabby genteel people, 
 ashamed to be seen in the street during the common dinner- 
 
 Cc 
 
G50 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1762-1767. 
 
 hour. They were popularly said to have dined with Duke 
 Humphrey, that is, not at all. 
 
 The queen passed most of her mornings in receiving instruc- 
 tions from Dr. Majendie in the English tongue. She was an 
 apt scholar and improved rapidly, and though she never spoke 
 or wrote with exceeding elegance, yet she learned to appreci- 
 ate justly the best authors, and was remarkable for the perfec- 
 tion of taste and manner with which she read aloud. Needle- 
 work followed study, and exercise needlework. The queen 
 usually rode or walked in company with the king till dinner- 
 time; and in the evening she played on the harpsichord or sang 
 — and this she would do almost eji ai'tiste ; or she took share 
 in a homely game of cribbage, and closed the innocently spent 
 day with a dance, and " so to bed," as the Pepys would say, 
 without any supper. 
 
 The great event of the year was the birth of the heir-appar- 
 ent. It occurred at St. James's Palace on the 12th of August. 
 In previous reigns, such events usually took place in the pres- 
 ence of many witnesses, but on the present occasion the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury alone was present in that capacity. 
 
 The life of Charlotte was so essentially domestic as to afford 
 few materials for the historian. At first she was girlishly and 
 unfeignedly pleased with her jewels and the insignia of royalty, 
 but she very soon wearied of them, for to use her own expres- 
 sion, " the fatigue and trouble of putting them on and the care 
 they required, and the fear of losing them, was so great that 
 I longed for my own earlier simple dress and wished never 
 to see them more." 
 
 In September, 1*766, Queen Charlotte gave birth to Charlotte 
 Augusta, princess royal and subsequently Queen of Wirtem- 
 burg. 
 
 After the king and queen removed to Kew their life became 
 more simple and unostentatious than before. Queen Charlotte 
 generally presided at the early dinner of the children, which 
 was the beginning of the early meals that the king afterward 
 took. The royal children had a little farm and raised their 
 own crops, and then invited their fother and mother to partake 
 of the simple meal. The king and queen partook, and the very 
 amusements of their children were rendered the source of use- 
 ful knowledge. 
 
 In 1767 was born Edward, afterward Duke of Kent and 
 father of the present queen-regnant : and in the following year 
 the Princess Augusta Sophia. 
 
 Between the period of the birth of the last child of Queen 
 Charlotte and 1778, her majesty had presented other claimants 
 
177(3.] CHARLOTTE SOPHIA. 651 
 
 upou the love and liberality of the people. These were two 
 sons and two daughters. Meanwhile the queen, thus constantly 
 occupied, performed all household and matronly duties in a way 
 that won respect even from those who detected in her faults 
 of temper or errors in politics. 
 
 During this time also the war was begun which terminated 
 in recognition of the United States of America as a sovereign 
 country, but with politics and wars Queen Charlotte had noth- 
 ing to do, and their history can not find a place in her biogra- 
 
 The innumerable cases and vexations attendant upon the 
 royal authority, together with the adverse events which had 
 from time to time occurred in different portions of the em- 
 pire, produced a most pernicious effect on the intellect of 
 George III., and in August, 1776, an incident happened which 
 tended to increase his mental irritation. As the king was 
 leaving the Palace of St. James by the garden entrance, an 
 insane woman, named Margaret Nicholson, approached him to 
 present a paper. While he was receiving it, she stabbed him. 
 The blow was not a very violent one, and the weapon did not 
 penetrate much beyond his clothes. He immediately ordered 
 the arrest of the lunatic, and hastened to convey to the queen 
 at Windsor the first intelligence of the danger to which he 
 had been exposed. As he entered her apartment he exclaimed 
 Avith a joyous countenance, " Here I am, safe and well, though 
 I have had a narrow escape of being stabbed." The queen 
 was at first very much alarmed, and while her husband pro- 
 ceeded to describe the circumstances of the event, she burst 
 into tears. She readily appreciated the consequences which 
 would have occurred to herself had the king been slain. Her 
 power and influence, which were second only to that of her 
 husband, would have been greatly diminished, and her posi- 
 tion rendered unpleasant. 
 
 The Prince of Wales was now considered as of age, and 
 began his life at Charlton Hoiise, where he lived so many 
 years. He was dissipated, and contracted debts to an enor- 
 mious amount. All these escapades failed to lessen the moth- 
 er's affection for him. At last the prince fell in love with 
 the magnificent Mrs. Fitz-Herbert, and when he had tried 
 every means to make her mistress, and failing, he asked her 
 to be his wife, and there is every reason to believe that he 
 actually married her. 
 
 As soon as the intelligence of the marriage reached Queen 
 Charlotte, she commanded the attendance of her son, and in- 
 sisted on knowing the whole truth. The prince is declared 
 
652 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1786-1789. 
 
 not only to have acknowledged his marriage, but to have 
 asserted that no power on earth should separate hira from 
 his wife. How the matter Avas finally accommodated is not 
 known, but it is supposed that the prince afterward became 
 willing to deny his marriage on condition that his debts 
 should be paid and an additional sum of 20,000^. given him 
 to finish the repairs of Charlton House. 
 
 Miss Burney, who was the queen's maid of honor, gives a 
 very pretty picture of the afl:ection which subsisted between 
 the king and queen, of which the following is an incident : " The 
 queen had nobody but myself with her one morning, when the 
 king hastily entered the room with some letters in his hand, and 
 addressing her in German, whicli he spoke very fast, and with 
 great apparent interest in what he said, he brought the letters 
 up to her and put them into her hand. She received them 
 with much agitation, but evidently of a pleased sort, and en- 
 deavored to kiss his hand as he held them. He would not let 
 her, but made an etfort with a countenance of the highest satis- 
 faction to kiss her lips. I saw instantly in her eyes a forget- 
 fulness at the moment that any one was present, while draw- 
 ing away her hand she presented him her cheek. He accept- 
 ed her kindness with the same frank affection with which she 
 offered it, and the next moment they both spoke English and 
 talked upon common and general subjects. 
 
 In the autumn of 1786 the king was seized with illness. It 
 had been brought on by his imprudence in remaining a whole 
 day in wet stockings, and it exhibited itself not merely in 
 spasmodic attacks of the stomach, but in an agitation and 
 flurry of spirits, which caused great uneasiness to tlie queen, 
 and which both for domestic and political reasons it was best 
 should not be known. 
 
 Early in November he became delirious, and a regency be- 
 stowing kingly powers on the Prince of Wales was already 
 talked of. The condition of the queen was deplorable, and a 
 succession of fits prostrated her as low as her royal husband. 
 
 The king was occasionally better, but the relapses Avere 
 frequent. The queen now slept in a bedroom adjoining that 
 occupied by the king. He once became possessed with the 
 idea that she had been forcibly removed from the bed, and, 
 in the middle of the night, he came into the queen's room with 
 a candle in his hand to satisfy himself that she was still near 
 liim. He remained half an hour, talking incoherently, hoarsely, 
 but good-naturedly, and then went away. The queen's nights 
 were nights of sleeplessness and tears. 
 
 In the queen's room could be heard every expression uttered 
 
1810] CHARLOTTE SOPHIA. 653 
 
 by the kinsf, and tliey Avere only such as to give pain to the 
 listener. His state was at length so bad that the queen was 
 counseled to change her apartments, both for her own sake and 
 the king's. She obeyed reluctantly and despairingly, and con- 
 fined herself to a distant room. 
 
 Her majesty's condition was indeed melancholy, but at its 
 worst she never forgot to perform little acts of kindness to her 
 daughters and others. 
 
 At last the prospects brightened about the poor king ; he 
 really became well for a time and fit to govern, much to the 
 disgust of the Prince of Wales, who was regent, and his party, 
 and on the 25th of June, 1789, he publicly gave thanks at St. 
 Paul's for his returning health. 
 
 Never was the alleged avarice of the king and queen more 
 bitterly satirized than during this year. The king however 
 Mas a cheerful giver, and the amount of property left by 
 this queen proves that she was no hoarder. The caricaturists 
 nevertheless smote them mercilessly. In one print the king 
 in the commonest of garbs was seen toasting his own muf- 
 fins ; and the queen, with a hideous twist given to her now 
 plain features and with pockets bursting with the nation- 
 al money, was depicted busily engaged in frying sprats for 
 supper. 
 
 The public discontent and general distress increased great- 
 ly at this time, and had their efl:ect in throwing a gloom over 
 the court circle. The old formality and not a very diminish- 
 ed festivity was still however maintained there, for the repub- 
 lican fashions of France were held in abhorrence at Windsor. 
 
 The marriage of the Prince of Wales with Caroline of 
 Brunswick took place at this time (1795). His mother had 
 desired that he should marry a Princess of Mecklenburg. It 
 was sufficient for the prince that his mother should desire a 
 thing for him to oppose it. 
 
 The triumph of Trafalgar would have crowned the year 1805 
 with glory, had not the death of Admiral Nelson plunged the 
 nation into affliction. However, the great victory put an end 
 forever to Napoleon's ideas of invading England. 
 
 The death of the amiable Princess Amelia, the favorite 
 daughter of the king, in November, 1810, was the immediate 
 cause of the final overthrow of his mind, in connection with 
 the disastrous events which recently occurred in various por- 
 tions of Europe. 
 
 What a life Queen Charlotte must have led in those long 
 years about which nobody will ever know any thing now, 
 when her husband was quite insane, when his incessant 
 
654 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1815. 
 
 tongue was bubbling folly, rage, persecution, and she had to 
 smile and be respectful and attentive under this intolerable 
 ennui. The queen bore all her duties stoutly, as she expect- 
 ed others to bear theirs. 
 
 In 1816 the public distress was very great, and those in 
 high places were unpopular, often for no better reason than 
 that they were in high places, and were disposed to be indif- 
 ferent to the sufferings of the more lowly and harder tried. 
 The queen came in for more than her share of the popular ill- 
 will, but she met the first expression of it with uncommon 
 spirit ; a spirit indeed which gained for her the silent respect 
 of the mob, who had begun by insulting her. As her majes- 
 ty was proceeding to her last drawing-room in the year 1815, 
 she was sharply hissed, loudly reviled, and insulted in a vari- 
 ety of ways. She was so poorly protected that the mob act- 
 ually stopped her chair. Whereupon it is reported that she 
 quietly let down the glass, and calmly said to those nearest 
 her : " I am above seventy years of age, I have been Queen 
 of England over fifty years, and I was never insulted before." 
 The mob admired the spirit of the undaunted old lady, and 
 allowed her to pass on without farther molestation. 
 
 The health of the queen was now failing, and she sought to 
 restore it by trying the efficacy of the Bath waters ; but with 
 only temporary relief. She was at Bath when she heard the 
 news of the death of the Princess Charlotte, and her health 
 grew visibly worse under the shock. Her absence from the 
 side of the young princess at this period, which was followed 
 by such fatal consequences, was at the request of the princess 
 herself, who knew that the queen's good-will in this case was 
 stronger thai; her ability. The popular voice, however, 
 blamed her, and it was unmistakably expressed on her return 
 to London. 
 
 As the queen passed through the streets she was assailed 
 by the most hideous yells, and many of the populace thrust 
 their heads into the carriage and gave expression to the most 
 diabolical menaces. At the Mansion House, so little protec- 
 tion was afforded her, that the foremost of the people were 
 almost thrust upon her, their violence of speech shocked her 
 ears, and they attempted, but unsuccessfully, to disarm one of 
 her footmen of his sword. In the evening of this melancholy 
 last visit she dined with the Duke of York, and it was there 
 that she first suffered from a violent spasmodic attack, from 
 the effects of which she never perfectly recovered. 
 
 It is certain that from the early part of 1818 the aged 
 queen mny be said to have been in a rapidly declining state. 
 
1818.] 
 
 CHARLOTTE SOPHIA. 
 
 655 
 
 Her condition was not dangerous until the autumn. She suf- 
 fered very much, and if she experienced temporary ease, the 
 slightest variation of position renewed her pain. She contin- 
 ued in this state until the 14th of November, when by a 
 slight rupture of the skin on both ankles, from which a con- 
 siderable discharge of water took place, the venerable lady 
 experienced some relief. Her condition, however, was not 
 bettered thereby, for mortification set in, and that portion of 
 her family who were in attendance upon her soon learned 
 that all hope was gone. For fifty-seven years Queen Char- 
 lotte had occupied the place from which she was about to 
 descend. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 16th of November, 1818, at one o'clock 
 P. M., the queen calmly departed at her suburban palace of 
 Kew. Her last breath was drawn in the arms of her eldest 
 son, the regent, whose attentions to her had been unremit- 
 ting. 
 
 George III. survived his queen little more than a year. Of 
 the children of Charlotte and George HI., four ascended 
 thrones. George and William became successive Kings of 
 England ; Ernest King of Hanover, and Charlotte Augusta 
 Queen of Wirtemburg. 
 
 Medal in commemoration of the Battle of Trafalgar. 
 
656 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1768. 
 
 The Prince and Princesa of Wales. 
 
 CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK, 
 
 CONSORT OF GE0R6E IV., KING OF GREAT BRITAIN AND 
 IRELAND. 
 
 Caroline of Brunswick was the second daughter of Charles 
 William Frederic, Hereditary Prince of Brunswick, and Lady 
 Augusta, eldest daughter of Frederic, Prince of Wales. She 
 was therefore own cousin of the man who afterward became 
 her husband. She was born in. May, 1768. 
 
 " In what country is the lion to be found ?" asked her gov- 
 erness, after a lesson in natural history. " Well," answered 
 the little Princess Caroline, " I should say, you may find him 
 in the heart of a Brunswicker !" In this sort of dashing re- 
 
1794.] CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 657 
 
 ply the girl delighted. She was as much charmed with dash- 
 ing games. In the sports of the ring, in which aimers at that 
 small object are mounted on wooden horses fixed on a circu- 
 lar frame, she was remarkably expert. On one occasion, when 
 she was flying round with more than common rapidity, one of 
 her attendants expressed fear of the possible consequences. 
 " A Brunswicker dare do any thing !" exclaimed the undaunt- 
 ed Caroline; adding, "A Brunswicker does not know that 
 thing, fear !" 
 
 In most respects the education of Caroline was defective; 
 her intellect was fine, but it needed training. She was the 
 daughter of a kind-hearted woman, incapable of fulfilling, with 
 propriety, the duty of a mother; and she became the wife of 
 a prince who was, as Sheridan remarked, " too much of a 
 lady's man ever to become the man of one lady." 
 
 "Tiie princess at a very early period discovered how to be 
 mistress of her weak mother. Therewith, however, she had a 
 heart tliat readily felt for the poor, was terribly self-willed, 
 and she played the harpsichord like St. Cecilia." 
 
 Her thoughtlessness was on a par with her sensibility, and 
 she lacked a certain reticence and decorum that her position 
 rendered very necessary. 
 
 Her heart however would not beat warmly to every suitor. 
 An offer was made to her by a scion of the house of Mecklen- 
 burg, which was supported by the wishes of both her parents. 
 Caroline ridiculed the lover and flatly refused the honor pre- 
 sented for her acceptance. She likewise declined the oifers of 
 the Prince of Orange and Prince George of Damstadt. 
 
 On the 8th of December, 1794, the marriage between Caro- 
 line of Brunswick and George Prince of Wales took place, 
 by proxy, Lord Malmsbury acting for the prince. She began 
 to feel the penalty of her new position before she reached 
 England. She was beset with applications for her patronage; 
 and she was induced to seek for Lord Malmsbury's aid in re- 
 alizing the expectations of the petitioners. He at once coun- 
 seled her to have nothing to do with such matters, and to 
 check or stop solicitations at once, by intimating that she 
 could not interfere in any way in England by asking political 
 or personal favors for others. 
 
 'Several months elapsed before the journey to England was 
 begun. During this interval the English envoy endeavored to 
 infuse into the mind of the princess more correct views of 
 decorum, for of this matter she appeared strangely ignorant. 
 Her father, the old Duke of Brunswick, said of her, perhaps 
 cruelly, yet enigmatically, " She is no fool ; but she has no 
 
 Cc2 
 
658 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1795. 
 
 judgment." Her greatest fault was her everlasting loquacity. 
 Her tongue seemed never to repose ; and ,when people are 
 eternally talking, even the wisest must needs utter a vast 
 quantity and variety of nonsense. This was precisely the 
 misfortune and error of Caroline of Brunswick, 
 
 The young bride left Brunswick on the 29th of December, 
 1794. The party stopped at Hanover on the way; several 
 months were occupied in accomplishing the journey to En- 
 gland. Rather singular developments were made to Lord 
 Malmsbury during this interval in reference to the personal 
 peculiarities of the future Queen of England. His olfactories 
 convinced him that, in spite of his reluctance to such a con- 
 clusion, the princess was very careless in regard to her per- 
 son, that she made her toilet with excessive haste, that she 
 rarely paid miich attention to cleanliness, and that she was 
 even offensive from this neglect. This discovery was a stun- 
 ning blow to the diplomatist, who \vell knew the fostidious 
 and exquisite taste of the intended bridegroom ; and he an- 
 ticipated results as unproi^itious as those which actually oc- 
 curred. 
 
 Caroline landed in England on the 4th of April, 1796. The 
 Prince of Wales hastened to greet his bride and cousin, and 
 Avithout waiting for her to make any toilet or any prepara- 
 tion after the heat and fatigue of her journey, he rushed into 
 her presence. Lord Malmsbury alone was a witness of this 
 first interview. He instantly introduced the princess to the 
 prince. She then attempted to kneel according to the usual 
 etiquette ; but the prince approaching, prevented her, em- 
 braced her, and instantly retired to a remote corner of the 
 room, exclaiming, " I am not well, Harris, get me a glass of 
 brandy." The astonished Lord Malmsbury was confounded 
 at this singular deportment and replied, " Sir, had you not 
 better have a glass of water ?" The prince, apparently much 
 offended, said, "No, I will go directly to the queen," and then 
 rushed from the apartment. During this scene the princess 
 remained standing, and in amazement. At length she ex- 
 claimed to an attendant, " My God ! does the prince always 
 behave in this way ?" The real cause of the catastrophe, which 
 thus attended the beginning of this unpropitious union, was 
 that the nostrils of the bridegroom were offended beyond 
 endurance by the odor which proceeded fi'ora the person of 
 the unwashed and slovenly princess. 
 
 The ceremony of this most unfortunate of all marriages in 
 modern times was performed on the 8th of April, 1795, in the 
 Chapel Royal, St. James's. The usual legal formalities fol- 
 
1796.] CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 650 
 
 lowed ; these were succeeded by a supper at Buckingham 
 House, and at midnight the hickless pair retired to tlieir own 
 residence at Charlton House, quarreling, it is said, by the way. 
 
 Queen Charlotte had looked grimly cold on the princess, 
 for tlie levity of her manners was such as particularly to dis- 
 please a lady of such formality as the queen, but nevertheless, 
 she gave an entertainment in honor of the event which made 
 Caroline of Brunswick a Princess of Wales. The locality was 
 Frogmore, and the scene was brilhant, save that the hostess 
 looked, as Lord Malmsbury once described her, "civil but 
 stitf," and her daughter-in-law superbly dressed and black as 
 midnight. 
 
 The princess had cause then, and stronger reasons soon after, 
 for her dark looks. She had written a number of letters to 
 her friends in Germany, which she had intrusted to Dr. Ran- 
 dolph, who was going to Brunswick, for delivery. The illness 
 of Mrs. Randolph kept the doctor in England, and he returned 
 the letters to the Princess of Wales, under a cover addressed 
 to Lady Jersey : this woman, destined to be the evil genius of 
 Caroline's life, was a mistress of the Prince of Wales, and as 
 early as the first arrival of the princess, she had ridiculed her 
 dress, appearance and manners, and began a series of persecu- 
 tions which ended only in the grave of that unfortunate lady. 
 These letters reached the hands of Queen Charlotte, and this 
 fact, though not known until later, accounted for the cold re- 
 serve with which Queen Charlotte treated the princess ever 
 after, for the letters contained some sarcastic remarks on the 
 queen's appearance and manners. 
 
 In whatever rudeness of expression the poor princess may 
 have indulged, her fault was a venial one compared with that 
 of her handsome and worthless husband. While she was in 
 almost solitary confinement in Brighton, he was in London, 
 the most honored guest at many a brilliant party, with Mrs. 
 Fitz-Herbert for a companion. On several occasions the two 
 Avere together even when the princess was present. The lat- 
 ter by this time knew of the private marriage of her husband 
 with the lady, and that he had denied through Fox that his 
 " friendship" with Mrs. Fitz-Herbert had even gone to the ex- 
 tent of marriage. If we have to censure the after-conduct of 
 the princess, let us not forget this abominable provocation. 
 
 Except from the kindly-natured old king, Caroline experi- 
 enced little kindness, even during the time immediately pre- 
 vious to the birth of her^only child, the Princess Charlotte. 
 This event took place at ten in the morning of the 1th of Jan- 
 uary, 1796, amid the usual solemn formalities and the ordinary 
 
G60 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1802, 
 
 witnesses. Addresses of congratulation were not wanting, 
 but the prince shrank from being congratuhited on his pros- 
 pects as a husband, wlien he had determined to separate him- 
 self forever from his wife. The latter had caused the removal 
 of Lady Jersey from her household ; this had been effected by 
 the intervention of the king. 
 
 The intimation of the prince's desire for a separation was 
 conveyed to the princess by Lady Cholmondeley. Her royal 
 highness only made two remarks — first, that her husband's de- 
 sire should be conveyed to her directly from himself, in writ- 
 ing, and if a separation wei'e insisted on, the former intimacy 
 should never under any circumstances be renewed. If his 
 royal highness had acceded to all his consort's wishes with the 
 alacrity with which he fulfilled this one in particular, there 
 would have been more happiness at their hearth. 
 
 After exactly a year's experience of married life — no fair 
 experience, however, of such a life, one during which she had 
 more reasons to be disgusted with his excuses than he with 
 her waywardness — the luckless pair finally separated. The 
 princess's allowance was at first fixed at 20,000/. per annum, 
 but after some haggling on both sides touching money, the 
 princess declined the allowance altogether, and, throwing her- 
 self on the generosity of the prince, rendered hira liable for 
 the debts she might possibly contract. 
 
 With a few ladies, the princess retired to a small residence 
 at Charlton, near Woolwich, but on being appointed ranger of 
 Greenwich Park, she removed to Montague House, on Black 
 Heath, and there she had the care of her daughter, and there 
 the king visited her frequently. The king's name was a tower 
 of strength to her; the queen's expressed aversion by no 
 means affected public opinion. 
 
 At this time her income was settled at 17,000/, per annum. 
 With it she appeared contented, lived quietly, cultivated her 
 garden, looked after the poor, superintended the teaching of 
 several poor children, and without a court, had a very pleasant 
 society about her, with whom however she was alternately 
 mirthful and melancholy. 
 
 The Princess of Wales had not been long a resident at 
 Montague House before her daughter, the Princess Charlotte, 
 was removed from her care, and she was only permitted to see 
 her once a week. 
 
 In an evil hour for the princess, she made the acquaintance 
 of Lady Douglas. This acquaintance ripened into intimacy, 
 and when the friendship was at its highest in ]802, the 
 princess, who had a strong partiality for children, took a lik- 
 
1807.] CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 061 
 
 iiig to an infant son of a poor couple named Austin. That 
 they were the father and mother of the child, has been proved 
 beyond a doubt. 
 
 Why the princess should have determined to take personal 
 charge of so young a child, almost defies conjecture. It may 
 perhaps be accounted for by the fact that she knew she was 
 narrowly watched by enemies who felt an interest in accom- 
 plishing her ruin, and she was elated with the idea of mysti- 
 fying them by the presence of an infant at Montague House. 
 
 However this may have been, the intercourse with the 
 Douglases continued with some warmth on both sides. It was 
 ultimately broken off by the princess, who had been warned 
 to be on her guard against Lady Douglas as a dangerous and 
 not very irreproachable character ; and thereupon the Princess 
 of Wales decHned to receive any more visits from her. 
 
 This conduct enraged Sir John Douglas and his wife to such 
 a degree that they invented all sorts of lies and stories, Lady 
 Douglas deposing that the child the princess had adopted was 
 her own. These stories were drawn up in the form of a state- 
 ment and shown to the prince-regent. 
 
 Under this statement aconuuission was formed in 1805 under 
 which various witnesses were examined, and much of their 
 testimony bore heavily against the princess, but when it is 
 recollected that the witnesses were servants of the princess, 
 who were appointed to serve her, she herself having no voice 
 in the matter, and that when they became witnesses against 
 her she was not allowed to know the nature of their evidence, 
 we wonder that any person could be found to believe them, 
 particularly as her other servants bore directly opposite testi- 
 mony in her favor. 
 
 Never was accused woman more hardly used than the 
 princess. The gentlemen with whom the Princess of Wales 
 had been said to have acted improperly, one and all denied 
 on oath that there had ever been any thing between them that 
 all the world might not see and hear. 
 
 The princess wrote an urgent appeal to the king-, but for 
 some months she received no answer to it. There seemed a de- 
 termination to exist somewhere that if her accusers could not 
 ])rove her guilt, she should not be' allowed to substantiate her 
 innocence. At last on the 25th of January, 1807, the king 
 having referred the matter to cabinet ministers, the latter de- 
 livered themselves of a lengthy resolution, amounting to the 
 fact that they thought the piincess innocent, but hoped she 
 Avould be very careful for the future, since though no real 
 guilt was proved, there were things in the conduct of the 
 
G62 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1813. 
 
 princess which the king could not but regard with serious 
 concern. 
 
 In May, 1807, tlie Princess Caroline was received at court. 
 The utmost honor paid lier was a cold and rigid courtesy. 
 It was at this drawing-room that the Prince and Princess of 
 Wales encountered each other for the last time ; they met in 
 the very centre of the apartment — they bowed, stood lace to 
 face for a moment, exchanged a few words Avhich no one 
 heard, and then passed on ; he stately as an iceberg, and as 
 cold ; s/te, with a smile half mirthful, half melancholy, as 
 though she rejoiced that she was there in spite of him, 
 and yet regretted that her visit was not under happier au- 
 spices. 
 
 Up to the period of the king's illness, the Princess of 
 Wales did not want for friends to attend her dinners and 
 evening parties. When the only advocate she had in the 
 royal family virtually died, and the Prince of Wales became 
 really king, under the title of regent, her allies sensibly dimin- 
 ished. 
 
 The indiscretion of the princess Avas strongly marked by 
 her selecting Sundays as the days for her greatest dinner 
 parties and her evening concerts. There is no doubt that 
 great prejudice was excited against her on this account. 
 
 The Princess of Wales was undoubtedly iast losing the 
 small remnant of popularity among the higher classes Avhich 
 had hitherto sustained her. As her more noble friends si- 
 lently cast her off, she filled the void left by them with per- 
 sons of inferior birth and sometimes of indifferent reputation. 
 Her own immediate attendants laughed at her, her ways, her 
 pronunciation and her opinions. She Avas indeed a puzzle to 
 them. Sometimes they found in her a tone of exalted senti- 
 ment, at others she Avas coarse and frivolous ; the " tissue of 
 her character" was made up of the most variegated av^ that 
 CA^er Avent to the dressing of a woman. 
 
 The princess had some good taste, she patronized men of 
 letters, and treated them ahvays Avith all the courtesy that 
 her position allowed her to bestoAv. She had her picture 
 painted by LaAvrence, and condescended to dance reels with 
 the poet Campbell, 
 
 In 1813, when George III. was taken ill and the lamp of 
 his reason flickered out for the last time, the regent placed 
 new restrictions on the intercourse of Caroline Avith her 
 daughter, though those under Avhich she had lain before 
 were strict enough. 
 
 However, the Princess Caroline managed to see her daughter 
 
1813.] CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. 663 
 
 in spite of all prohibitions, for no one could prevent their 
 meeting in the public highways. 
 
 On the 9th of August, 1813, the Princess of Wales sailed for 
 the continent. She traveled under the appellation of the 
 Countess of Cornwall. After spending the greater portion of 
 the month of September in a tour through Switzerland, she 
 finally sojourned for a while in Geneva, where she met with 
 the Ex-Empress of France, Maria Louisa, and became for a 
 time on intimate terms with the imperial lady who, like her- 
 self, was separated from her husband. These two women, 
 iilustrious by rank rather than character, lived much in each 
 other's society. They dined together, sang together, together 
 listened to the discussions of the philosophers whom they as- 
 senibled round them ; and when together they attended a 
 fancy ball, one at least astonished the other — the princess sur- 
 prising the ex-empress by appearing in what was called the 
 costume of Venus, and waltzing with a lack of grace that 
 might have won laughter from the goddess of whom the 
 waltzer was the rather fat representative. 
 
 While in Italy, the Countess of Cornwall, or the Princess of 
 Wales, as it is more convenient to call her, lost all her English 
 attendants ; they left her one by one, for they did not like the 
 people she added to her retinue. Of these Bartholomew Ber- 
 gaun was the chief He seems to have been part coui-ier 
 and part chamberlain. This man was of noble birth and 
 was very poor. Her conduct with this man was such as to 
 give rise to the most dreadful reports respecting her mode 
 of life. She said herself, however, that she desired to have 
 the regent think her guilty, for it stung his pride. She 
 courted infamy even if she did not practice it. 
 
 She spent long months wandering about, traveling from 
 one place to another. The limit of her journey was Jericho, 
 whither she went actually, and also in the pojjular sense of 
 the word, which describes a person as having gone thither 
 when ruin has overtaken him on the journey of life. 
 
 She went to Tunis, and made a noble return for the enter- 
 tainment oftered her by the Bey, by purchasing the freedom 
 of several Euroj^ean slaves. A greater liberation, however, 
 was at hand in Lord Exmonth and his fleet. 
 
 During her absence from England her daughter had mar- 
 ried Prince Leopold, and the mother had hoped to find friends 
 in this pair, if not now, at some future period. But soon she 
 heard that her child and her child's child were dead. Her 
 grief was great and sincere, but had not the effect of render- 
 ing lier life more circumspect. 
 
664 ■- QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1821. 
 
 Her course of life, witlioiit perhaps being one of the gross 
 guilt it was described as being, was certainly not creditable 
 to her. Exaggerated reports, which grew worse as they 
 were circulated, startled the ears of her friends and gladden- 
 ed the hearts of her enemies. They were at their very worst 
 when, in 1820, George III. ended his long reign, and Caroline, 
 Princess of Wales, l)ecame queen-consort of England. 
 
 A proposition was made to her, that if she Avould remain 
 on the continent, and surrender the title of qixeen, adoj^t no 
 title belonging to the royal family of England, and never 
 even visit the country on any pretext, she should have 
 50,000/ per annum. 
 
 Caroline instantly and decidedly rejected this proposal and 
 proceeded to England at once. Her progress from Dover to 
 London was a perfect ovation. The people saw in her the 
 victim of persecution, and for such there is generally ready 
 sympathy. They were convinced too that she was a woman 
 of spirit, and for such there is ever abundant admiration. 
 
 It was no doubt the queen's own wish to live as retii'ed as 
 possible in Portman Street, but her health required change, 
 and she paid one public visit to Guildhall and occasionally 
 repaii-ed to Blackheath. 
 
 In the mean time a bill was brought into the House of 
 Lords charging Queen Caroline with a " series of acts highly 
 unbecoming her majesty's rank and station, and of a most 
 licentious character." This document concluded by propos- 
 ing that " Caroline Amelia Elizabeth should be deprived of 
 rank, rights, and privileges as queen, and that her marriage 
 with the king be dissolved and disannulled to all intents and 
 purposes." 
 
 The ministers themselves were not on a bed of roses. They 
 Avere exceedingly embarrassed by the queen's announcement 
 that she intended to be present every day in the House of 
 Lords during the progress of what was now properly called, 
 " The Queen's Trial." 
 
 This trial began l7th of August, Our limits will not per- 
 mit any account of it. Those who are curious in detail, will 
 find the reports of the trial in the journals of the day. 
 
 At last, after two months of hearing, nothing more than in- 
 discretions could be proved against Queen Caroline, and the 
 bill of pains and penalties was abandoned. 
 
 Early in May, 1821, the ceremony of the king's coronation 
 M-as spoken of as an event likely to take place. Caroline did 
 not forget that she was queen-consort, and demanded that 
 she should have her part in the ceremony. George IV, was 
 
1821.] CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK. C65 
 
 determined that she sliould not be crowned, neither should 
 she be present at his coronation. 
 
 The coronation day killed the queen. The agitations and 
 sufferings of that eventful day called into deadly action the 
 germs of the disease under which she ultimately succumbed. 
 Only once between that day and her death did she appear in 
 public, at Drury Lane Theatre, and even then she may be said 
 to have been dying. Her own conviction from the first was 
 that her malady would prove fatal. To die was the very best 
 thing that could come to her, and death made short work 
 with his new victim. 
 
 After live days of great suffering, the queen sank into a 
 stupor from which she never awoke. At half past ten o'clock 
 in the morning of the 7th of August, 1821, Caroline of Bruns- 
 wick, queen-consort of George IV., expired almost without a 
 struggle. She had completed fifty-three years and three 
 months ; of these she passed by far the happier and more in- 
 nocent half in Brunswick. Of the following nine years spent 
 in England, eighteen of them were passed in separation from, 
 and most of them in quarreling with, her husband. For the 
 first ten years of that period she lived without offense and 
 free from suspicion ; during the remainder she was struggling 
 to re-establish a fame which had been wrongfully assailed ; 
 but this was accompanied by such eccentricity and indiscre- 
 tion, that she almost seemed to justify the suspicion under 
 Avhich she labored. Justice was not rendered her, for she 
 was condemned before she was tried. 
 
 Much may be said in favor of this unfortunate queen. She 
 had received no education to speak of, religiously none at all. 
 Her mother was a foolish, frivolous woman, and her fathei', 
 Avhom she ardently loved, a handsome, vicious man, Avho made 
 his wife and daughters sit at table in the company of his mis- 
 tresses. Much might have been made of Caroline, if she had 
 had for a husband a man with principle, and who would have 
 taught her to love and appreciate the duties that belonged to 
 their exalted station. But instead of this, what do we find in 
 her husband? a bad, cruel, dissipated, unprincipled fop, who 
 had consigned her, directly she arrived in England, to the so- 
 ciety of paramours and prostitutes, and allowed these women 
 to gratify their hatred and revenge by rendering her hateful 
 and repulsive to her husband, and finally driving her, through 
 their spiteful persecutions, to leave his residence. These in- 
 dignities are palliations of her faults, and should diminish the 
 censure which we might be disposed to inflict on her mem- 
 ory. 
 
660 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1821. 
 
 George IV. survived his queen nine years. His only daugh- 
 ter having died before him, the throne descended to his broth- 
 er, who became William IV. 
 
 There is nothing to love or admire in his character. His 
 nature was base and cruel, and his heart was one of rare rot- 
 tenness and corruption. Whatever was noble and brilliant 
 in his administration, was due to the superior talents and 
 pariotism of his ministers, and whatever was pernicious and 
 bad, was as clearly attributable to his own personal defects 
 and vices. 
 
 The princess gave orders in her will that there should 
 be engraved on the plate of her coffin, CAROLINE, THE 
 INJURED QUEEN OF ENGLAND. 
 
 George IV. 'J"he King 
 
1792.] ADELAIDE OF SAXE COBURG MEININGEN. 667 
 
 ADELAIDE OF SAXE COBUEG MEININGEN, 
 
 CONSORT OF WILLIAM IV., KING OF GREAT BRITAIN AND 
 IRELAND. 
 
 Amelia Adelaide Louisa Theresa Caroline was the 
 eldest daughter of George Frederic Charles, Duke of Saxe 
 Coburg Meiningen, by Louisa Eleanora, a Princess of Hohen- 
 loe, Langenburg. Adelaide was born on the 1 3th of August, 
 1792, Her beloved father died in December, 1813, aged 42, 
 leaving the dowager-duchess guardian of the children, a 
 duty she performed with great judgment and success. 
 
 From her earliest childhood Adelaide was remarkable for 
 sedate deportment and retiring habits. By far the greatest 
 portion of her time was devoted to study. She was cheer- 
 ful and happy when with her intimate companions, but took 
 little pleasure in the gayeties of a courtly life. 
 
 When she arrived at more mature years, she manifested a 
 strong repugnance to the laxity of morals and contempt of 
 religious feeling with which the French Revolution had in- 
 fected all the German courts. 
 
 That of Meiningen, secure in its insignificance, escaped bet- 
 ter than most of the others, and the vigilance of the dowa- 
 ger-duchess preserved the coiirt from moral contagion. 
 
 Adelaide's chief delight was in establishing and superin- 
 tending schools for the humbler classes of the people, provid- 
 ing food and clothing for the destitute, aged, and helpless. 
 She was the main support of every institution which had 
 for its object the amelioration of the condition of her fellow- 
 creatures, and in this devout exercise it was that her maj- 
 esty developed those fine qualities of mind and heart 
 which in her more exalted station have since been so exten- 
 sively displayed for the happiness and advantage of the Brit- 
 ish people. 
 
 In the year 1817, the whole England nation was cast into 
 deep grief by the death of the Princess Charlotte, daughter 
 of George, Prince of Wales, afterward George IV. This 
 princess Avas heiress-presumptive to the crown, and the hope 
 of the nation. 
 
668 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1818-1826. 
 
 Her death was very soon followed by that of otliers of the 
 royal family, and the brothers of George, Prince of Wales, 
 felt it necessary to marry, that there might be no chance for 
 a disputed succession. 
 
 William, Duke of Clarence, thii'd son of George III,, chose 
 for his bride the Princess Adelaide. The proposal was satis- 
 factory to all parties, and the marriage was performed on the 
 11th of July, 1818. At this time Adelaide was twenty-six 
 years of age. 
 
 The royal couple spent the greater part of the first year of 
 their marriage in Hanover. While there, hopes were enter- 
 tained that her royal highness would bring an heir to the 
 crown. However, these hopes were destined to disappoint- 
 ment, for her child was a daughter, born prematurely, and she 
 only lived long enough to be christened, and was buried in the 
 vaults of her ancestors in Hanover. 
 
 The health of Adelaide was in a delicate condition for a 
 long time, and she went back to Meiningen for change of air. 
 The people were delighted to see her, and escorted her in 
 triumph to the capital, where holiday was kept for a month. 
 Here they resided for several months in the castle, and then 
 the court removed to Liebenstein ; there, by the aid of the 
 mineral springs for which the place is celebrated, the duchess 
 entirely recovered her health. 
 
 In October, 1819, the royal pair departed for England. 
 After a short and pleasant voyage, they landed at Dover, and 
 as the sea air had been pronounced as beneficial for the duch- 
 ess, they stayed for a number of weeks at Walmer Castle, near 
 Deal. 
 
 The winter of this year was passed in London, where her 
 royal highness gave birth to a fine healthy princess, who by 
 tl>e special request of George IV. was christened Elizabeth. 
 But alas, for all human hopes, the little child, though she was 
 bright and well, was seized with croup, and died at the early 
 age of three months. The shock was fearful, but the calm 
 resignation of the bereaved parents in this moment of severe 
 trial and disappointment, and their humble submission to the 
 divine will, is described as one of those scenes that give dig- 
 nity to rank and impress deeply on the human mind the truth 
 and value of Christian faith. 
 
 In the year 1826 the duke and duchess, after along tour on 
 the continent, returned to England to reside permanently at 
 Busily Park. Dr. Beattie, the private physician of the Duke 
 of Clarence, thus writes of the domestic life of his -Hoble 
 patron : 
 
I«b0.] ADELAIDE OF SAXE COBUKG MEININGEN. 069 
 
 "To his illustrious partner, whose many and exalted virtues 
 his royal highness so duly appreciates, no man can possibly 
 evince more delicate and uniform attentions. There are not 
 perhaps at the present day, two personages of similar station, 
 in whom the virtues of domestic life are more pleasingly ex- 
 emplified. With those qualities of mind and heart so emi- 
 nently possessed by the royal duchess, it is not surprising that 
 her royal highness should have won and should retain the es- 
 teem and affection of her illustrious consort. His mind is 
 fully alive to their vital importance as regards his present hap- 
 piness, and to the influence they must exercise over his future 
 prospects." 
 
 Their lives at Bushy Park were quiet and without excite- 
 ment. Here Adelaide was mistress of only a small domain, in 
 which she exercised her taste and goodness, and found great 
 happiness in the "even tenor of her way." But she was soon 
 to be called to a higher place and a broader field for the exer- 
 cise of her talents and goodness. The death of George IV. in 
 
 1830, placed the crown-matrimonial of England on a brow 
 fully worthy to wear it. 
 
 When the news was brought to Bushy Park of the death 
 of George IV., Adelaide burst into tears, and for a moment 
 the sense of the great responsibilities that had come upon her 
 quite overcame her. In a few moments, however, she recover- 
 ed hei'self, and taking up an English prayer-book from the 
 table, she presented it to the messenger and begged him to 
 accept it as the first gift of the Queen of Ertgland. 
 
 William IV. and Adelaide were crowned in Westminster 
 Abbey with the usual ceremonies on the 8th of September, 
 
 1831. The first notice we find of any introduction of the 
 queen into public was on the llih of June, before his corona- 
 tion, when the king received a deputation of the Fellows of 
 Oxfoi'd and Cambridge Avith congratulatory addresses. After 
 the reception the king requested the gentlemen to wait, until 
 he had presented them to their queen. He brought Queen 
 Adelaide forward and presented her amid the greatest enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 The popularity previously enjoyed by the duchess was very 
 much increased at her accession. The sphere of usefulness 
 wliich she had hitherto so worthily filled was extended, and 
 she daily gained love and respect. 
 
 After the coronation the king and queen stayed for a time 
 at Windsor Castle, and from thence went to Brighton. While 
 at Brighton, they visited a number of places along the coast, 
 and at Lewes they were received by the mayor with a ban- 
 
670 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [)837-l848. 
 
 quet at which the king made a speech introducing the queen, 
 and the greatest aflection was manifested for the bluff sailor- 
 king and his amiable consort. 
 
 The kindness of the queen to her husband's children had 
 been conspicuous always, but now it was redoubled. They 
 were with iier at all times. Their apartments were near hers 
 in the palace, and by every means in her power she endeavor- 
 ed to treat them as if they were children of her own. 
 
 The time of the queen was passed very quietly, she spent 
 much time in the company of her relatives, and except when 
 at the call of public duty she appeared, there is little to tell of 
 her life. The poor, the needy and the helpless will, however, 
 tell her story, by their blessings. 
 
 The spring of 1837 was one of mourning at court. Queen 
 Adelaide had the misfortune to lose her beloved mother, who 
 died at Saxe Meiningen, aged 68. 
 
 Before she had recovered from the shock of her mother's 
 death, King William was taken ill. His illness was short and 
 not painful. The queen tended him with the utmost assiduity 
 and attention. He was sensible to the last. The transition 
 was easy. He died without any struggle, and with his head 
 resting on the arm of his wife, the woman he had loved so 
 dearly through life. He died July 25th, 1837. 
 
 Queen Adelaide, now queen-dowager, witnessed his funeral 
 from one of the royal closets. After the king's death the 
 queen received the parliamentary provision made for her in 
 1832, namely 100,000^. per annum, with Marlborough House 
 and Bushy Park for residences. 
 
 The health of the queen-dowager was far from strong, and 
 the remaining years of her life Averc spent in passing from 
 place to place in search of strength and health. 
 
 In October, 1838, her physicians ordered her to Malta. 
 Thither she went in II. B. M.'s ship Hastings. On her arrival 
 she was enthusiastically welcomed by the populace. Finding, 
 Avhile there, that the English residents of the place had no 
 proper church privileges, she built them a beautiful little 
 chui'ch, and presented them with a fund to support a minister. 
 She was never happy unless she was making others so. 
 
 In 1839, she returned to England, and in the autumn made 
 a tour of the provinces, scattering blessings in her way. 
 
 In September, 1846, she received under her own roof a visit 
 from her majesty Queen Victoria and her consort Prince 
 Albert. After this she made her last visit to Germany. 
 
 In October, 1848, the queen-dowager Avent to Madeira, as 
 she found the English winter was likely to be too severe for 
 
1849.] ADELAIDE OF SAXE COBURG MEININGEN. 671 
 
 her enfeebled frame. The following spring she returned to 
 Spithead and visited the queen at Osborne, and from there 
 went to Bently Priory. Here her illness, which was dro))sy, 
 assumed its fatal form, and though she continued through the 
 summer to drive every day, even as late as the beginning of 
 October, still she felt herself that tlie hand of death was upon 
 her. The 6th of October she took to her bed, from which 
 she never rose again. She was visited by the queen and 
 Prince Albert, and her private virtues had so endeared her to 
 lier attendants, that though she was nearly alone in the world 
 as far as relatives are concerned, she did not look for loving 
 hands to smooth her pillow, and to give her the kindness and 
 sympathy that no rank or money can buy. On the 1st of 
 l3ecember she was no worse than usual, when the bursting 
 of a blood-vessel, caused by a slight fit of coughing, terminated 
 lier existence. She died December 2d, 1849, aged 57. 
 
 There have been few Queens of England who had died and 
 left so entirely unspotted a memorial, not only with regard 
 to sins of commission, but those of omission, as Queen Adelaide. 
 Her Avhole happiness seemed to consist in doing good to 
 others, and she was an example of purity and gentleness and 
 goodness for every one. 
 
672 
 
 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 [1819. 
 
 Medal of Victoria. 
 
 VICTORIA, 
 
 QUEEN EEGNANT OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND. 
 
 Alexandrina Victoria was born at Kensington Palace, 
 May 24th, 1819, and was the only child of Edward, Duke of 
 Kent, the fourth son of George III. and Maria Louisa Victoria, 
 a daughter of Frances, Duke of Saxe Coburg Saalfeld, and 
 sister of the King of the Belgians. Tlie Duke of Kent died in 
 1820, leaving his infant daughter to the care of her mother. 
 This lady was in every respect fitted to have the care of the 
 future Queen of England. She did* not seclude the royal 
 child from view, but accustomed her to walks and rides, where 
 she could be seen and could see her future peojDle. Much 
 attention was paid to her physical culture, that with a vigor- 
 ous constitution she might be prepared to encounter the 
 trials to which all, whatever be their lot, must be subjected. 
 She was not educated as a petted favorite, but was inui'ed to 
 hard study, exposed to fatigue, and habituated to constant in- 
 dustry. 
 
 At the age of twelve, the Duchess of Northumberland 
 was appointed as a governess to the Princess Victoria, and 
 her education was prosecuted with renewed zeal. It was 
 deemed essential that she should be withdrawn from society, 
 and her whole time devoted to intellectual and physical cul- 
 ture. 
 
 She was carefully instructed in the history of her own 
 country, its laws, its literature, and its sciences. Victoria was to 
 be Queen of England, and she was to be educated as an En- 
 glish woman, to be able to converse gracefully in the English 
 
1837-1810.] VICTORIA. 673 
 
 language, and to write in her own tongue with ease and ele- 
 gance. Her education did not stop here, for German was 
 like her own language and she could read Horace in the orig- 
 inal with considerable fluency. She was enthusiastically foud 
 of music and performed on several instruments. 
 
 She was accustomed to take much exercise in the open air, 
 and, under the tuition of a very celebrated riding-master, she 
 became an accomplished and even a daring horsewoman. 
 
 On the 24th of May, 1837, Victoria attained her legal ma- 
 jority ; scarcely had the festivities terminated with which this 
 day was greeted, when her uncle, William IV., died, and she 
 became the reigning Queen of Great Britain. 
 
 On the l7th of July, Victoria prorogued her Parliament. 
 She was accompanied by her mother, who was breathless with 
 anxiety for the timid girl, and all who loved Victoria best 
 trembled with solicitude, lest her fortitude should fail her. 
 But they were unnecessarily alarmed, for her self-i^ossession 
 and the graceful modesty of her appearance attracted univeris- 
 al applause. 
 
 Queen Victoria was crowned in Westminster Abbey Avith 
 all appropriate ceremonies, and the interest felt for so young 
 a woman called to wield the sceptre of a great realm, brought 
 out a most magnificent display, not only of the nobility of 
 her own country, but from foreign courts. She was crowned 
 by the Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 After a few days the queen called her counselors together, 
 and announced to them that it was her intention to ally her- 
 self in marriage with Prince Albert of Saxe Coburg. "Deep- 
 ly impressed," said the queen, " with the solemnity of the en- 
 gagement I am about to contract, I have not come to this de- 
 cision without mature considei'ation, nor without feeling a 
 strong assurance that, with the blessing of Almighty God, it 
 will at once secure my domestic felicity, and subserve to the 
 interests of my crown and people." Prince Albert had been 
 one of her playfellows in childhood, and they loved each other 
 very dearly. It is rare that such a union of feeling occurs in 
 a royal marriage. The marriage took place February 10th, 
 ] 8'40. 
 
 In 1841 the queen's situation promised an heir to the thi'one, 
 and her first child, the princess royal, was born November 
 21st, 1840. It was on November 9tli, 1841, that the wished- 
 for heir male was born, Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. To 
 this family were added afterward seven princes and princesses. 
 
 The queen since her accession to the throne had shown no 
 fondness for display and no desire to govern. She never ap- 
 
 D D 
 
674 QUEENS OF ENGLAND. [1861. 
 
 peared happier than when surrounded by her young family, 
 riding or strolling jvith them and her husband through the 
 woods of Cintra. She was also extremely fond of the ocean, 
 never suifering from sea-sickness, even in the severest storms. 
 A portion of every year she spends in the royal yacht, as 
 beautiful a miniature palace as ever floated on the ocean, 
 cruising about amoug the picturesque islands over which she 
 reigns. 
 
 In 1851, the queen opened the Great Exhibition of the In- 
 dustry of All Nations. 
 
 In 1861, the queen had the misfortune to lose her husband 
 Prince Albert, after a happy wedlock of twenty-one years. 
 Since that time her health has been nnuch impaired, owing to 
 excessive grief, and there have been times when it was feared 
 that her reason would fail her, as was the case with her grand- 
 father, George III. She has lately prepared for the press a 
 life of Prince Albert. 
 
 The constitutional freedom of the people of England, their 
 parliamentary government and strict responsibility of their 
 ministers, whom it is always in the power of the House of 
 Commons to displace, leave but little scope either for the vir- 
 tues or the vices of the sovereign, whether male or female, 
 unless it be In the example set from so splendid and conspicu- 
 ous an eminence as a throne to all the families in the king- 
 dom. In this respect Great Britain is fortunate under the 
 graceful sway of her present majesty, a lady who, by the exer- 
 cise of every domestic and public virtue, has shown herself a 
 model for all her female subjects, as woman, wife, and mother; 
 and who has endeared herself to every man in her dominions, 
 not as a lady alone, but as the excellent, painstaking, conscien- 
 tious chief magistrate of the widest and most extended em- 
 pire on the globe. 
 
 Under the rule of the four preceding monarchs, royalty had 
 become less popular than the friends of the British constitu- 
 tion desired to see it, and it would have been a great pity if 
 the Duke of Kent had died without issue, and the sceptre had 
 passed into a hand that would have still farther increased that 
 unpopularity, and prepared the way for commotions and per- 
 plexities of no common magnitude. Happily the auspicious 
 liirth of the Princess Victoria averted the evil, and every act 
 since her accession has tended to increase not only the respect, 
 but the love of her people, and to build up the throne on surer 
 foundations than it ever before rested upon. „ 
 
 1-