Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

Struck with the loveliness of the child, the loneliness and courage of the mother, the robber of Hexham knelt down, and dropping his sword, promised to help them, for he was on the king's side. Then taking the little prince in his arms, he led them to a cave in the forest where he lived, and took care of them till it was safe for them to escape to Scotland, and from thence to France.

There tidings reached her of Henry's fate; he had been betrayed into the enemy's hands, and shut up in the Tower of London.

For many years Margaret and her son lived in France, until the tide once more turned in their favour. The Earl of Warwick, who had fought against Henry and Margaret, now turned round, and offered to help the exiled queen and her son to win back the kingdom. It was some time before the haughty queen could make up her mind to forgive him, but the future of her son was very dear to her, and at last she sent him pardoned to England, where he raised an army and surprised the king, who had to flee for his life.

Meanwhile Margaret and her son were trying to cross to England, but time after time they were driven back by wind and storm, and when they did arrive, it was only to learn that King Edward had returned, gained a victory, that Warwick was slain, and the king again put into prison.

When Margaret heard this crushing news, she fell to the ground in a stupor of despair, for all hope seemed gone. At last her son roused her, he told her that he himself would go and fight, and they started again for Wales, collecting supporters as they went. But King Edward's army met them at Tewkesbury, and a terrible battle took place. Margaret watched it; she saw the battle was going against them; she saw her only son in the thick of it, and it was with difficulty she was kept from rushing into it herself. At last she was carried away insensible, and the next thing she heard was that the battle was lost, her son Edward slain!

Love for her boy seemed the only tender part of Margaret's nature, and she was overwhelmed with motherly grief. A few days after, she was taken captive to the Tower, and at midnight on that same day King Henry, her husband, was put to death.

King Rene's love for his daughter never failed; he had sympathized with her in all her troubles, shed bitter tears when her son was killed and the kingdom wrenched away, and now he gave up half his own kingdom to ransom the daughter he loved so well.

So Margaret returned to her native land, to her father's home--no longer the beautiful, powerful Queen of England, with spirit to do and to dare, with courage to face any foe; but a desolate, unhappy woman, with all spirit crushed out of her, with no courage left ever to face the world again. Hardened by oft-repeated failure and stormy conflicts, she wandered listlessly about the gardens and galleries of her father's castle, going over and over the sorrows of her past life, her eyes dim and red from continual weeping, caring for nothing. Her father died in 1480, and Margaret did not live long after. She seldom left her retreat to see anyone, and at last, worn out with trouble and sorrow, she died on August 25th, at the age of fifty-one.

THE LADY MARGARET (1441-1509).

Margaret Beaufort, or the Lady Margaret, was the mother of Henry VII., and an ancestor of Queen Victoria. She was by far the greatest woman of her day. "It would fill a volume to recount her good deeds," says a writer of the times. Full of pity and love for the poor, she devoted herself as well to help on the learning of the richer classes; she was a mother to the young students of the Colleges, always ready to forgive injuries done her, ready to work when there was work to be done, and "All England at her death had cause of weeping," writes a bishop who knew her very well.

She was born on the last day of May, 1441, at a large manor in Bedfordshire. Her father was of royal blood, being grandson to John of Gaunt, a son of Edward III. and Philippa of Hainault, about whom you have heard. The child Margaret was named after her mother. At an early age she learnt to read, and, what was considered a rare accomplishment in those days, to write; she was fond of French, and knew a little Latin, but not much, and she often complained in later life because she had not learnt more. Her needlework was beautiful, and it is said that James I., whenever he passed, stopped to see the work done by the fingers of his great-grandmother. There is still a carpet to be seen worked entirely by her. When she grew a little older, she learnt about medicine and sickness, and in later life we find her devoting a part of each day to dressing the wounds of poor people and helping to ease their suffering.

When she was only nine, the Duke of Suffolk, a great man in England, wished her to marry his son John, for he knew she would some day be very rich; but the King of England, Henry VI., wanted the little heiress to marry his brother Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond. The little girl did not know what to do. The night before her fate was to be decided, she lay awake, thinking and praying, when suddenly, at about four in the morning, "one appeared unto her arrayed like a bishop, and naming Edmund, told her to marry him," and not the other. The child told her vision to her mother, and soon after she was betrothed to the Earl of Richmond, and when she was fifteen they were married. They went to live in a Welsh castle, but only for a short time. They had not been married two years, when the Earl of Richmond died, leaving Margaret a widow at sixteen. She mourned for him very deeply, but the birth of a little son, the future Henry VII. of England, occupied all her time and thoughts; for he was so delicate and fragile a baby, that it was a question whether he would live or die.

Now the Wars of the Roses were raging in England. Margaret's uncle, the Duke of Somerset, had been killed at the battle of St. Albans, and she thought it safest to stay quietly in Wales, taking no part in the war. Still, it was a trying time for the young mother, closely related to the fighting parties, listening breathlessly from day to day for news of the victories and losses, watching over the interests of her infant son, the young Earl of Richmond. When he was but a few years old, his mother presented him to the king, Henry VI., his great uncle. Henry solemnly blessed the child, and placing his hands on the young earl's head, said: "This pretty boy will wear the garland in peace, for which we so sinfully contend,"--words treasured by the young mother and remembered in after years.

In 1459 the Lady Margaret married the Earl of Stafford, great-great-grandson of Edward III. and Philippa, and she still lived on in Wales.

Margaret taught her son Henry a good deal herself; the boy was growing up sad and serious and thoughtful, fond of his books, fond of rugged Wales, and as was but natural devoted to his young mother.

The battle of Tewkesbury and accession of Edward IV. made it unsafe for him to remain in England; so with his uncle he went to France, where he stayed for some time.

Separation from her son was a great trial to the Lady Margaret, and her thoughts were constantly with her exiled child.

It was her habit to get up at five in the morning, and pass five hours in prayer. Ten o'clock was the dinner hour in those days, and the rest of the day she devoted to helping the poor around her and to translating French into English, so that those who did not know French might be able to read the English translation. Printing was hardly known in England, so she had to copy out all her writings herself.

In 1482 her second husband died, and not long after she married Lord Stanley, a great friend of the king, Edward V., by which means she hoped to forward her son's cause in England. At the coronation of Richard, the Lady Margaret and her husband were present; for we hear that the Lady Margaret was sent "ten yards of scarlet for her livery, a long gown made of crimson velvet with cloth of gold and another of blue velvet;" she walked just behind the queen and held up her train, a fact which showed she was in royal favour then. But not for long. Besides being a usurper and murderer, Richard III. was a bad king, and the people wanted to depose him, and set on the throne Margaret Beaufort's son, Henry Tudor.

It was proposed that he should marry Elizabeth, daughter of the late king; then all the friends of the Red Rose and the White Rose would join together, and overthrow Richard. Richard heard of the plot, the Lady Margaret was accused of high treason, and it was only by reason of her husband's favour with the king that her life was spared. At last, in 1485, Henry came over from France, went to Wales, collected an army, defeated and slew Richard at Bosworth. Now Lord Stanley had come to the battle with Richard, but just as the battle was going to begin, he took all his men, and went over to Henry's side.

The battle began. Richard fought like a lion, determined to conquer; he knew that Richmond was but a youth, who had never fought before, not even "trained up in arms." To kill the young Henry was his own aim and object.

"I think there be six Richmonds in the field;
Five have I slain to-day instead of him!"

are the words which Shakspere puts into his mouth, as the king is again unhorsed. But his enemies were too strong for him. When the battle was over, Richard III. was found dead upon the field of Bosworth, and Lord Stanley, taking the crown which the king had worn in battle, placed it upon the head of Henry, now King of England.

Then came the meeting with his mother. "Tell me," he had said before the battle, when Lord Stanley had come to fight for him and was wishing him victory and fortune, "tell me, how fares our loving mother?" and Stanley had answered, "I bless thee from thy mother, who prays continually for Richmond's good." Now mother and son met again; they had not seen one another for fourteen long years, years of the deepest anxiety to both. Margaret had parted from him as a serious and thoughtful boy--"a little peevish boy," Shakspere calls him; she met him again as a hero, the King of England. One of Henry's first acts as king was to restore to his mother the lands and titles which Richard had taken away from her.

Then Henry married the rightful heiress of the throne--Elizabeth, daughter of Edward IV., and England was once more at peace. A grand coronation took place, and this is what we hear of Margaret. "When the king her son was crowned, in all that great triumph and glory she wept marvellously."

The Lady Margaret loved her daughter-in-law very tenderly, and Elizabeth the queen was always pleased to have her at court. But she did not give herself up to the pleasures and comforts of court life; her work lay in another direction. At one of her large country houses she made a plan to keep twelve poor people, giving them lodging, meat, drink, and clothing, visiting them when she could, and waiting on them herself.

She was the highest lady in England after the queen, but she never thought any service too menial for her, any duty too humble for her to perform. One of her manor-houses she had already given up to a poor clergyman in Devonshire, who had many weary miles to walk from his own house to his church, and was thankful to have a home nearer to his work.

Now while the Wars of the Roses had been going on, William Caxton, having learnt the art of printing, had set up a press in London. Margaret Beaufort was one of his first zealous supporters, and to her he dedicated one of his first printed books. But the name of the Lady Margaret is perhaps best known at Cambridge; for it was there, in 1505, that she founded two colleges, which still exist. One, under the name of "God's house," had been founded by Henry VI., but it never flourished, and when the Lady Margaret heard what a state it was in, she refounded it with the title of "Christ's College." The college was to hold a master, twelve fellows, and forty-seven scholars, and the countess framed all the rules for them herself. The scholars were to have a certain small sum of money a year for their clothes, which were to be bought at a neighbouring fair; they were not to keep any dogs or birds, and were only to be allowed cards at Christmas time. The Lady Margaret took great interest in the college; one day, when it was but partly built, she went to see it. Looking out of a window, she saw the dean punishing a "faulty scholar." Her heart was moved to pity, and she cried out, "gently, gently," thinking it better rather to lessen his punishment than to ask pardon for him altogether.

In 1506, the king and his mother both visited Cambridge to see the beautiful chapel of King's College, which was nearly finished.

She did not live to see St. John's Hospital completely founded (though she obtained consent to have it made into a college), or King's College finished, but her arms are over the gates of the college, her crest and coronet in the window of the hall; still her name is mentioned every year with the other founders of colleges, and her name is given to buildings and societies and clubs.

In 1509, Henry VII. died, leaving Margaret, "our dearest and most entirely beloved mother," as he calls her, to choose councillors for her grandson Henry, a boy of eighteen.

At last her strong health began to fail; she had survived parents, husbands, and her only son, but when those around her saw she could not live "it pierced their hearts like a spear."

"And specially when they saw she must needs depart from them, and they should forgo so gentle a mistress, so tender a lady, then wept they all marvellously, wept her ladies and kinswomen, to whom she was full kind, wept her poor gentlewomen whom she had loved so tenderly before, wept her chaplains and priests, wept her other true and faithful servants."

She died on June 29th, 1509.

She was buried in Westminster Abbey, in a part called Henry VII.'s Chapel, and a tomb of black marble was erected to her memory. On the top lies a figure of the Lady Margaret in her coronet and robes of state; her head rests on cushions, her feet are supported by a fawn. It is one of the most beautiful monuments in the Abbey, and if you ever go there, look at it and remember the Lady Margaret's life and work.

MARGARET ROPER (1501?-1544).

Margaret Roper, daughter of Sir Thomas More, was born on July 10th, in London. She was the eldest of four children, and she was her father's favourite. She was like him in face and figure; her memory was very good, her sense of humour keen, her love for her father intense and brave.

When Margaret, or Meg, as her father loved to call her, was only six, her mother died, and very soon after her father married a widow, not for the sake of her youth or beauty, but to look after his four little children and manage his household. Such a household, too. Before he went to his work every morning Thomas More set each their appointed task, his wife included; no one was ever idle, no wrangling went on, no angry words were ever heard about the house; the most menial offices were regarded as honourable work, the humblest duties were labours of love. This was the atmosphere in which Margaret's childhood was spent; no wonder she was loved for her gentle ways and sweet disposition; with the long quiet mornings and fixed studies, no wonder she became a learned and clever woman.

Each member of the family had a pet, and Thomas More said: "No child or servant of mine hath liberty to adopt a pet, which he is too lazy to attend to himself. To neglect giving them food at proper times entails a disgrace, of which every one of them would be ashamed."

There is a story told about Margaret Roper, which will show what rigid discipline she was taught as a child, though the story rests on very slight foundation.

One night her stepmother had been churning for a long time, but the butter would not come; so she sent for Meg and her two sisters, and told them to churn till the butter came, even if they sat up all night, as she had no more time, and she could not have so much good cream wasted. They churned, but the butter would not come; they said "Chevy Chase" from beginning to end to pass the time; they chanted the 119th Psalm through. At last they began to repeat Latin; then they heard the buttermilk separating and splashing in earnest, and at midnight, when poor little Daisy, one of the sisters, had fallen asleep on the dresser, Meg succeeded in making the butter come.

Meg's father--now raised to the rank of Sir Thomas More for his valued services to the king, Henry VIII.--was often away from home for many months together, and Meg used to miss him dreadfully. He had risen to be Speaker in the House of Commons, and his wit and learning were most popular at court. The king would often come to Chelsea and walk round the garden, his arm round the neck of Sir Thomas More, discussing some important matter, to which he wished his favourite's consent. But Sir Thomas did not agree with the king in many things, and he refused to act against his conscience even to win the royal favour. Thus a coolness sprang up between them, which afterwards led to the execution of Sir Thomas More.

At the age of twenty-four Margaret married Will Roper, more to please her father than herself. He was a good fellow, and had studied hard to please Margaret, and helped her father in much of his work. Margaret would have preferred to study and write, rather than marry, but her father convinced her that "one may spend a life in dreaming over Plato, and yet go out of it without leaving the world a whit better for having made part of it," and her father's word was law with Margaret. Her father's departure to Woodstock, the king's court, was a source of grief to Margaret. Two nights after he left, the household was aroused by shouts of "Fire! fire!" Everybody got up, and it was found that part of the Chelsea house was burnt, though all its inmates escaped uninjured.

In 1530 Sir Thomas More was made Lord Chancellor, but this high post he only held for two years; he refused to sanction Henry's marriage with Ann Boleyn, together with several other things, and resigned the Great Seal in August, 1532.

A great load was taken off his mind, and his spirits returned, but not for long. The storm was about to burst. Threatening visits and letters alarmed the family, and at last the blow came.

Sir Thomas More had refused to take the oath of Supremacy, that is to say, he refused to acknowledge Henry VIII. as Head of the Church, and he was summoned to Lambeth to give his reasons. It was with a heavy heart that he took the boat to Lambeth, for he was leaving home for the last time, and he seemed to know it. The days when he was gone seemed long and lonely to his daughter Margaret. He refused to take the oath against his conscience, and was sent to the Tower. There Meg used to visit him, and he told her not to fret for him at home; he explained to her his innocence, his reasons for refusing to take the oath, and told her he was happy.

In 1535 he was called to trial at Westminster, and crowds collected to see him pass from the Tower; even his children found it difficult to catch a glimpse of him. Margaret, we hear, climbed on a bench, and gazed her "very heart away," as he went by, so thin and worn, wrapt in a coarse woollen gown, and leaning on a staff, for he was weak from long confinement; his face was calm and grave.

The trial lasted many hours, and Margaret waited on through that long day by the Tower wharf till he passed back. The moment she saw him, she knew the terrible sentence was "Guilty!" She pressed her way through the dense crowd, and, regardless of the men who surrounded him with axes and halberds, she flung her arms round his neck, crying, "My father! Oh, my father!"

"My Meg!" sobbed More.

He could bear the outward disgrace of the king and nation, he could stand without shrinking to hear the sentence of death passed upon him, but this passionate, tender love utterly broke his brave spirit and shook his firm courage.

"Enough, enough, my child! what, mean ye to weep, and break my heart?"

Even the guards were touched by this overwhelming scene, and many turned away to hide a falling tear. She tore herself away, but only to go a few steps; she _could_ not lose sight of that dear face for ever; she must hear him speak once more to her. Again, with choking sobs and blinding tears, she laid her head on his shoulder. This time tears were standing in her father's eyes as he whispered:--"Meg, for Christ's sake! don't unman me." Then he kissed her, and with a last bitter cry of "Oh, father! father!" she parted from him for ever, and the crowd moved on.

With a piece of coal Sir Thomas More wrote a few loving words to his daughter, and on July 5 he was executed, and his head put upon a pole on London Bridge as an example to others who disobeyed the king's orders. Then Margaret's love showed itself in all its most courageous strength.

Soon after midnight she arose, dressed herself, and walked quickly down to the river, where she found boatmen to row her to London Bridge.

"The faithful daughter cannot brook the summer sun should rise
Upon the poor defenceless head, grey hair, and lifeless eyes.
A boat shoots up beneath the bridge at dead of night, and there,
When all the world arose next day, the useless pole was bare."

The head of Sir Thomas More was gone, no longer open to the ridicule of crowds, to the triumph of the king's party, to bear witness to his friends a monarch's infidelity--but safe in the keeping of Margaret Roper.

After the death of Sir Thomas More, his family were driven from their Chelsea home, and Margaret was for a time imprisoned. She died nine years after her father, and the dear and honoured head that the faithful daughter had dared her life to save was buried with her in the Roper vault at Canterbury.

LADY JANE GREY (1537-1554).

Lady Jane Grey was born in a beautiful palace half hidden by masses of old trees, called Bradgate Hall, in Leicestershire, in the year 1537. Most of the old hall is now a ruin, but a tower still stands in which the villagers still declare that Lady Jane was born. Her father, Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, was one of the king's most powerful noblemen; her mother, Lady Frances Brandon, was a niece of the king, Henry VIII. Jane was the eldest of three daughters; Katharine, her next sister, was two years younger, and therefore her companion in lessons and play. Mary was much younger. The grounds about Bradgate Hall, and the winding trout-stream about which the children played, may still be seen around the ruined palace; but much as little Jane loved the open air and the flowers that grew around, yet she was still fonder of her books.

While quite young her father engaged a master to come and teach his children, and Jane learnt very quickly. Greek, Latin, and French were her great delight; she could sing, play, sew, and write very clearly. With all this she was very sweet in temper, truthful, and beautiful to look at. The queen, Katharine Parr, Henry VIII.'s sixth and last wife, took a great fancy to the little girl. She was a clever and learned woman herself, and begged Lady Frances Brandon to allow Jane to live with her at court, promising to see that her lessons were still carried on. So at the early age of nine we find Jane attending on the queen, and carrying her candles before her. This was by no means an easy feat to perform, as the little candle-bearer had to walk backwards with the lighted candles. The child did not know, and happy for her that she did not, that she was looked upon by the court as the heiress to the throne of England, and that the queen was trying to fit her for the difficult post she was destined to fill.

When Jane was but ten years old, the king, Henry VIII., died, and his son Edward, a poor sickly boy, the same age as the Lady Jane, was made king.

Soon after, Katharine Parr died, and the little girl walked as chief mourner at her funeral, her long black train being held up by a young nobleman.

After this, the most natural thing would have been for Jane to go home to her mother at Bradgate; but her father and mother thought more of worldly advance than of their child's happiness. They agreed to let her go to Lord Seymour, a scheming and plotting man, who wished to bring about a marriage between the poor little Lady Jane and the young king, Edward VI., who was her cousin. At first Jane's parents pretended--for it was but pretence--that they wished to keep her at home, but when Lord Seymour gave them L500 they consented, for the sake of this contemptible sum of money, to let him take away their pretty little girl to teach her first, and then to marry her to a king. But this never came to pass, for the following year Seymour was taken to the Tower and beheaded in a horrible way, and his little ward was sent home. Her parents were bitterly disappointed; they treated her coldly, even cruelly, and her only happiness was in her lessons.

One day Roger Ascham, Princess Elizabeth's clever master, came to stay at Bradgate. Passing through the park he saw that the members of the household were hunting, but where was the Lady Jane? She was in her own room, he was told. Thither he went, and found her busily reading a Greek book by Plato. "Why was she not hunting in the park?" he asked, with some surprise.

"I wis," answered the child of fourteen, looking up with a bright smile, "all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure I find in Plato; they do not know, alas! what true pleasure means!"

Then they had a long talk, and the Lady Jane told Roger Ascham how she loved her books and lessons, and how thankful she was for her kind master. For she was never happy with her father and mother; they were sharp and severe with her, and whether she talked or kept silent, sat or stood, sewed or played, it was sure to be wrong. They laughed at her, scolded her, often even pinched and nipped her, till she longed for her lesson hour, when she could go back to her gentle teacher. There the time passed so quickly, and he was so good to her, and when lessons were over she would often cry, because everything else was "so full of great trouble and fear."

The gentle and clever girl was greatly beloved; her master was duly proud of his young pupil, whose knowledge of languages was quite wonderful, and surprised many an older scholar than himself. Greek was her favourite study, and the last letter she ever wrote was written to her sister Katharine on a blank leaf in her Greek Testament.

Lady Jane Grey spent the Christmas of 1551 with the Princess Mary, with whom the family were on very friendly terms. But the cold weather and the long winter walks she had to take injured her health, and she became very ill. Her slow recovery gave her plenty of time for work, and long letters still exist in Greek and Latin that she wrote to Roger Ascham, and also to many foreign students, who thought very highly of the noble Lady Jane.

Up to this time friendship had existed between Princess Mary, who was a Roman Catholic, and Lady Jane. One day Mary gave her a rich dress. Lady Jane did not care to wear bright colours, as she always dressed in the Puritan style.

"What shall I do with it?" she asked.

"Marry, wear it, to be sure," replied Mary.

But this Lady Jane refused to do, even to win favour with the princess.

This offended Mary. She had heard rumours, too, that Lady Jane, being a Protestant, was likely to succeed Edward VI., instead of herself, and thus the Lady Jane slowly dropped out of favour at court.

Lady Jane's father now occupied a high post; he had become Duke of Suffolk by the death of two elder brothers, and helped the Duke of Northumberland to govern England till the young king, Edward, should be old enough to govern for himself. But Edward instead of growing better grew worse; always delicate, an attack of measles left him worse, and he could not get rid of a bad cough. When the dukes found he was not likely to live long, they began to scheme for his successor. Of course Suffolk wanted his daughter to be queen; of course Northumberland wanted his son to be king; so they agreed that Suffolk's daughter, Lady Jane, should marry Northumberland's son, Guildford Dudley, and reign as king and queen of England.

The poor young king, Edward, was weak and ill, and his strong Protectors could easily make him say that his Protestant cousin, Lady Jane, and her husband, Guildford Dudley, should succeed him, instead of his sisters Elizabeth or Mary.

Guildford was tall and very handsome; he was his father's pride and darling; but when Lady Jane was told that he was to be her husband, she was very angry, and refused to marry him. In vain her father urged her, and told her the king himself had ordered the marriage.

"And do you mean to disobey the king as well as your father?" he asked harshly.

We are told that he had recourse to blows at last; anyhow, the poor Lady Jane was too unhappy to hold out any longer; her life could not be much more miserable than it was, and she gave her consent at last.

On a summer day, Whitsunday, 1553, when Edward the king was lying at the point of death, Lady Jane Grey was married to Guildford Dudley, and very soon after she was told by her mother-in-law suddenly off-hand, that she must hold herself in readiness at any moment to be crowned Queen of England! For a moment Lady Jane was stunned, almost stupefied, till the utter misery of her position slowly dawned upon her. She was to take the throne from the Princess Mary, who was the rightful queen, and reign over a people who would look on her as a usurper instead of pitying her as a helpless woman. The future weighed heavily on her mind; she became very ill, and was taken to Chelsea, to the house of her father-in-law, for change of air, there to await the king's death.

Late on one summer afternoon, the summons came for her to go at once to Sion House, whether well or ill. A barge was at the door to convey her up the river. What a long two hours it seemed to Lady Jane till the barge arrived at Sion House! She found the hall empty, but no sooner had she arrived than the two Protectors, her father and Northumberland, her mother and mother-in-law, and many dukes and earls entered, all bending low before her. Her cheeks grew hot, her heart beat fast. She understood everything. The young king was dead. She was Queen of England. A long speech was made, and all present swore to protect and serve her as queen, but it was all too much for the Lady Jane, already ill and unhappy. She tottered and fell to the ground, weeping bitterly; there she lay as one dead, her face white as marble, her eyes closed. When she came to herself she raised herself on to her knees, and prayed that, if to succeed to the throne were her duty and right, she might govern the realm of England well and justly.

Very early next morning, still weary from the excitement of the former night, the queen and her attendants came down the Thames in barges, and landed near the Great Hall of the Tower. Then a long procession was formed. Guildford Dudley walked beside his royal wife, cap in hand, bowing to the ground whenever she spoke. Crowds lined the way, and knelt as she passed to be crowned their queen; little did they know how gladly she would have changed her lot with any of her poorer subjects if she could. Her life grew more unhappy; she could not sleep; she fainted often while talking to her council.

One day she heard that her father, the Duke of Suffolk, was going to march against the Princess Mary, who had been proclaimed queen in many parts of England; but she was so alarmed at being left alone with the Dudleys, and wept so bitterly, that he consented to stay with her, and let Northumberland go instead. But he met with no success. There were no shouts of "God save Queen Jane!" no one cried "God speed ye!" He found that Mary's party was growing rapidly in strength, and that she had been proclaimed queen everywhere but in London itself.

The news fell heavily on the queen; sleep forsook her entirely; the long nights were "full of great trouble and fear," though she knew the Tower was barred and locked. At last the blow came. One day the queen had promised to stand godmother to a child; not being well enough to go she sent her attendant. The attendant was not gone long, but on her return she found officers in possession of the room, the royal canopy down, and was told that "Jane Grey was a prisoner for high treason." Thus from the state apartments she followed her to the prison rooms of the Tower.

She was still in the Tower, no longer a queen, but a prisoner; her nobles had deserted her, her subjects had risen up against her, her father and mother were gone, and her husband was separated from her.

On October 1st, 1553, Mary was crowned queen amid the cheers of the people; and the Duke of Suffolk, father of the late queen, was one of the first to acknowledge Mary as Queen of England.

The following month Lady Jane and her husband were accused of high treason; they pleaded guilty to the charge, and sentence of death was passed upon them. Husband and wife looked on one another for the last time, and Lady Jane was taken back to the Tower, there to await her death. A dismal Christmas passed, and the new year of 1554, which was to see so many bloody deeds, opened.

Queen Mary was forced somewhat against her will to sign the death warrant, and "Guildford Dudley and his wife" were informed that February 12th was the day fixed for their execution. Still, if Lady Jane would change her religion, become a Roman Catholic, and obey Mary, she might have her liberty and her life; but this she refused to do--rather death than that.

Guildford Dudley was the first to die; he had begged for a last interview, a last kiss from his wife, and it had been granted by the queen, but Lady Jane refused, saying it would be too much for them, and unnerve her completely. So she stood at the Tower window, and waved him a silent farewell, sobbing, "Oh, Guildford, Guildford!" An hour afterwards she was led forth for execution; she walked with a firm and steady step, and addressed to the crowd a few touching words, which drew forth heartfelt sympathy for the courageous and noble woman who was going to die. She said a psalm, her eyes were bound, she forgave willingly the man who was about to cut off her head, and in a few moments her unhappy life was ended.

PRINCESS ELIZABETH (1596-1662).

Elizabeth, eldest daughter of James I., was one of the most heroic women of her time; first an English princess, then a foreign queen, and lastly almost a beggar in a strange land, she always managed to be bright, and to cheer those around her, when she could.

She was born in August, 1596, in a Scotch palace, and as she was the first daughter of the Scotch king, a regular establishment of nurses, rockers, and attendants was provided for her; she was given everything that could make her happy, supplied with costly dolls, and dressed in velvet or plush.

When Elizabeth was only seven, her godmother, the Queen of England, died, and James I., her father, went to England to be crowned king, thus uniting the two countries of Scotland and England. Elizabeth and her elder brother Henry went with their father and mother, and all were received with great joy in England. The children only stayed at court three weeks, when they were sent to an old abbey in the country with tutors and governesses. Here they were very happy; they played about the lovely grounds round the abbey, rode and hunted, breathed the free country air, and learnt their lessons in large spacious rooms. Elizabeth could write very well even at seven, and whenever her brother was away, she wrote him charming little letters between lines ruled in red ink. When she was nine Gunpowder Plot was discovered.

"I can easily enter by the gate yonder, and with the aid of a dozen men carry off the princess, while the rest catch her attendants," were words heard by the children one day while playing near the high road. It was clear she must be taken away at once.

"No, I can never leave my dear Henry," cried the child, when told they must part, and so tightly did she cling to him, that it was with difficulty her arms were unclasped.

Soon after this a suite of rooms were fitted up for her at court, and there for a short time she enjoyed the splendours of court life. But when only fourteen, little more than a child, a husband was chosen for her from a foreign country. Frederick, the future Elector Palatine, was only sixteen himself, when he was sent for to come over to England and marry the Princess Elizabeth.

The whole family were assembled to welcome him when he arrived.

Elizabeth stood by her brother Henry on a raised platform, her eyes fixed on the ground, while Frederick with a firm step and beaming face walked up the long hall. When he reached the king and queen, Elizabeth looked up to see a dark handsome boy with a pleasant face and manly figure. He bowed very low and kissed her hand, and apologized in broken English for appearing in his travelling clothes and not in court dress.

The month before her marriage her brother Henry was seized with a severe fever, and it soon became evident that he could not live. Elizabeth was in despair, she refused to obey the order not to enter the sick room of her beloved brother, and one evening she stole away from the festivities of the court, disguised herself, and hurried eagerly to him, but only to be sent back by the watchful attendants, who were more anxious for her safety than pitiful of her sisterly love. "Do not be so cruel. Take me to him, if only for a minute." There was a hungry, yearning look in her brown eyes, the tears rolled down her cheeks, and it was hard to refuse such a request. But the guards were firm.

"Oh, where is my dear sister?" were Henry's last words. This was the first great sorrow in Elizabeth's life, and the beginning of the darker days in store for her, which were to bring out all the courage of her womanly nature.

On St. Valentine's Day, 1613, the wedding took place. Prince Frederick was dressed in cloth of silver embroidered with diamonds; his bride wore cloth of silver too, shining with pearls and diamonds, and her long and beautiful hair hung over her shoulders to her waist.

After a few months of English festivities the young couple made their way to their new home at Heidelberg, where they were received with great joy.

Now Frederick was, by his father's death, Elector Palatine, that is, he ruled over part of Germany under the Emperor. The Emperor had made a cousin of his King of Bohemia, but that cousin was a Roman Catholic, and the people of Bohemia did not like him, so they dethroned him, and sent to Frederick to ask him to come to help them and be their king. It was a critical position for Frederick; he saw it might, and probably would, lead to war; his mother begged him to refuse, but his wife Elizabeth would not hear of such a thing. The sparkle of a crown glittered before her eyes; she trusted Frederick to keep peace and reign well over the people who had chosen him as king. "I had rather feed on a dry crust at a king's table than feed on dainties at that of an elector!" cried Elizabeth. Thirty years later she knew what it was to eat a dry crust, but not at a king's table.

So Frederick consented to become King of Bohemia, and he, Elizabeth, and their three little children left their beautiful Heidelberg home to be crowned king and queen. Great were the rejoicings; bells rang, bonfires were lit, cheers of "Long live King Frederick!" echoed through the air, while those who were near enough kissed the hem of the new queen's robes, for Elizabeth had already won their hearts; she ordered bread and wine to be given to all who came to the castle, and by her goodness and generosity won the name of "Queen of Hearts." But their position of King and Queen of Bohemia was not secure; jealousy began to show itself in the princes round them, and Frederick felt that at any moment the threatened storm might burst. He had been growing more and more unpopular, and at last war was declared.

The more critical Frederick's position, the firmer grew Elizabeth.

"I persuaded you to be crowned king, I was with you in those happy and joyous days, I will stand by you in trouble," she said, and not only said, but did. She sent away her children, only keeping Prince Rupert, a baby of but a year old. The first battle was lost, and in anguish Frederick hastened to his wife, begging her to escape at once. But she would not leave him. If he would come, she would go; if not, they would stay together. His subjects begged their king to stand firm; they reminded him of his oath to guard his kingdom to the last; a raid on the enemy might yet turn the scale. But where his wife's life was in danger, Frederick refused to stay, and together they escaped from their kingdom. Still relying on help from England, they hoped on, and Frederick again joined the army. Leaving behind her a baby of a month old and her other children, Elizabeth again followed her husband, knowing that she alone could cheer him and keep up his spirits. Once more she travelled through parts of the country where, only six years ago, she had been welcomed as a happy bride; now she wandered an outcast and an exile, with but the empty title of queen to make up for the loss of a home, country, friends. When Heidelberg, their lovely home, fell into the hands of the enemy, Elizabeth cried piteously, "My poor Heidelberg taken! Oh! God visits us very severely; the misery of these poor people distresses me sadly!"

Still the war, known as the Thirty Years' War, went on, and Frederick was often away for many months together.

In 1629, a terrible grief befell Elizabeth in the death of her eldest son Henry. He was in a yacht with his father one day, when a large vessel bore down upon them, and struck them; the yacht filled with water, and in a moment sank. All on board perished save King Frederick.

"Save me, father, save me!" was the drowning cry of the boy, but all efforts to save him were in vain, and the distracted father had but to go back, and break the news to his wife. The mother's grief was so violent, that she became very ill, but when she found how heartbroken Frederick was with the thought that he was saved and his boy drowned, she roused herself to comfort him.

Things were looking brighter; a new hero had come to the aid of the unhappy king, when his troubled life was suddenly ended. A bad fever set in, and as he was weak and anxious it took deadly hold on him. His last effort was a letter to his wife. "Can I but live to see you once again, I shall die content," he wrote--but they did not meet.

The blow fell heavily on Elizabeth; for three days she neither ate, drank, slept, nor shed a single tear. She could hardly realize that all hope of regaining the kingdom was gone, and that he whom she had loved so devotedly through the twenty years of her married life was dead. Her comfort was in her children; her second son Rupert was specially dear to her. While still a boy, the future hero of Edgehill and Marston Moor distinguished himself by fighting to get back his father's rights; a wild, reckless youth, he was taken prisoner fighting for his father's cause rather than give up, or flee, as his elder brother had done. When in prison he managed to scribble a few words of comfort to his mother, assuring her he was well, and would come back to her as soon as he was released.

When the sudden news arrived that Elizabeth's brother Charles had been executed, and Cromwell made Protector of the kingdom, Prince Rupert, the daring royalist, was one of the first to offer himself to the future Charles II. to help to regain the kingdom.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth was almost penniless. "Next week I shall have no meat to eat, and this week, if there be no money found, I shall have neither meat, nor bread, nor candles," she wrote piteously to her son Charles. Rupert would have given her his last crust, but Charles, Elector Palatine, refused to supply her wants.

At last the exiled queen made up her mind to return to England, and end her days in the land of her childhood.

Sophia, her youngest child, was married, and lived with her husband, the Prince of Hanover, in his own country. She was a beautiful and clever woman, and constantly went back to see her mother, and cheer her solitude. Sophia's son was George I. of England, from whom is descended Queen Victoria. She and Prince Rupert came to bid farewell to their mother before she left their land for ever.

What a different return to England; no crowds lined the coast, no shouts resounded from the citizens as on her departure, forty years before, as a happy young bride. When the widowed queen stepped on English soil, her heart revived. She had lived to see Charles II., her nephew, restored to the throne of England--her son restored to the Palatinate. Craven, her faithful friend, took her to his home, but she did not live long. The passionate love of her son Rupert, the wild and daring royalist, comforted her to the end, and "Prince Rupert of the Rhine" was the only one of her many children who followed her to the grave. She was buried by night at Westminster. While the long torchlight procession moved up the Abbey, a fierce gale raged; some thought it was a foreboding of future troubles to England; some thought it was like the troubled life of the Bohemian Queen; the faithful Craven bowed his head, and thanked God that his lady was beyond the wild storms of the world.

LADY RACHEL RUSSELL (1636-1723).

England was in a troubled state when Lady Rachel Russell was born.

Charles I. was king, but the people were not happy under his rule. England became divided into two parties--some for him, and some against him. Among the king's firmest and most staunch supporters was the Earl of Southampton, Rachel Russell's father. He was a loyal Englishman, and when affairs came to a crisis, and civil war broke out--though he saw what must be the result--he stuck to his king, and fought manfully for him. He married a French lady of noble birth, and had two daughters, Elizabeth and Rachel.

When Rachel was yet a baby, her mother died. She never had much education, perhaps because her father was a great deal away, and she had no mother to watch over it; perhaps because the country was in too disturbed a state for any progress in learning; and the result is, that her letters are full of mistakes in spelling. She must have heard a great deal about politics as a child; for her father took his seat in the Long Parliament when his little daughter was only six; she must have heard him talk of the battle of Edgehill and the bravery of Prince Rupert; she must have heard about Oliver Cromwell; and when she was thirteen, all England rang with the news that Charles the king was beheaded. Her father was one of those faithful four, who, on that snowy winter day, bore the coffin of the king to the royal tomb at Windsor. Then he took his family away into Hampshire, while Oliver Cromwell was at the head of the English government.

When she was seventeen, her father chose her a husband in Lord Vaughan.

"It was acceptance rather than choosing on either side," she said in after life. However, the young couple went to live in Wales, and were very happy, and everyone loved her and respected her.

"All that know you are forced to honour you," wrote a friend to her one day, "neither are you to thank them for it, because they cannot do otherwise."

Fourteen happy years passed away, and then Lady Vaughan was left a widow. She went to live with her elder sister Elizabeth, now Elizabeth Noel, whom she loved very dearly. Her father was dead, and Elizabeth had inherited his seat in Hampshire; so, in the home where they had played as children, the two sisters now lived together.

In 1669 she married William Russell, a young nobleman. Having travelled abroad, he had returned to England in time to become a member of the House of Commons which restored Charles II. to the throne, and from this time he took a prominent part in the politics of the day. He consulted his wife about everything; he was guided by her advice in moments of extreme difficulty; he depended on her judgment, and he found it just and good. On the other hand, she watched every event in which her husband's interest was concerned, with unwearying love; his happiness and success were hers, his sorrows and defeats were shared by her too. They were not often parted during the fourteen years of their married life, but when they were separated their letters show how long the time seemed, and how drearily the days passed.