THE
Picture Gallery
EXPLORED.

Page 12.
Page 53.
London: Published by Harvey & Darton, Mar. 1, 1825.]

THE

PICTURE GALLERY

Explored;

OR,

AN ACCOUNT OF VARIOUS ANCIENT CUSTOMS AND MANNERS:

INTERSPERSED WITH

ANECDOTES AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES

OF

EMINENT PERSONS.

DE PLANOIN ALTUM

London:

PUBLISHED BY HARVEY AND DARTON,

GRACECHURCH STREET.

1825.

PREFACE.

Although nothing is original in the following little work, except the dialogue, which was necessary as a connecting link; yet the compiler trusts, that it will be found to contain, in a small compass, much useful and interesting information. In selecting the anecdotes from writers of acknowledged merit and veracity, she has endeavoured to avoid, as much as possible, the beaten track, and to introduce names and points of character, not usually presented to the notice of children. She still remembers, with pleasure, the avidity with which, when quite young, she perused true stories, and how anxiously she sought for further particulars of those illustrious individuals, who either gained her affectionate admiration by their exemplary virtues, or elated her young imagination by the brilliancy of their talents or their achievements.

Such biographical sketches are introduced, as were thought likely to awaken emulation, or to lead forward in the path of piety and knowledge.

THE

PICTURE GALLERY.

CHAPTER I.

“Well, Ann,” said Susan Spencer, “it really is fixed for us to visit cousin Robert; for mamma has given orders to Hayward to prepare our clothes, and we are to set out next Monday.”

“I cannot think what can induce mamma to visit him just now,” answered Susan: “he is such an oddity, I hear, and lives so very retired. Mary Morgan told me, (and Mary knows him well,) that he rarely goes into parties; and she laughed immoderately, when she said that the heavy little windows, and massy doors of the old mansion, always reminded her of a monastery; and, for her part, she thought it would be better to turn it into one, people it with monks, and make Mr. Wilmot superior of the order. I cannot tell you half that she said; but it was so droll, that we all laughed with her.”

“I dare say you did,” replied Susan; “and I think it excessively provoking to be immured there, when the Drummonds, and the Williams’s, and the Grovenors are going to the seaside. It vexes me to think how Miss Drummond will boast, when she returns, of the company she has been introduced to, the new fashions she has seen, and how often her music and dancing were praised; whilst you and I must sit by, without having a word to say, or being able to relate any thing but the histories of the old rooks, that perched in the high trees close to the house, or——or——” But here they were interrupted by the entrance of their mother; and as they well knew that observations of this kind would be displeasing to her, they turned the conversation to some indifferent subject.

Susan and Ann Spencer were the daughters of a military officer, whose delicate state of health had obliged his wife to accompany him abroad; leaving, with reluctance, her two little daughters to the care of their paternal grandmother. They were good-tempered, affectionate, and animated; but the mistaken fondness of the old lady, had not only indulged their weaknesses, and forbade any correction of their errors, but had introduced them into all her parties; so that their little heads were filled with the love of dress and visiting.

The death of their father in India, and the return of their mother, after an absence of six years, suddenly put a stop to these injudicious plans; and Susan and Ann had been under their mother’s care about three months, when the preceding dialogue took place.

Mrs. Spencer was a woman of too sincere piety, and too good an understanding, to allow her grief, deep as it was, for her departed husband, to interfere with her duties towards her children. She knew that the best test she could give of affection to his memory, was to render them worthy of his name, and, if possible, inheritors of his virtues. She loved them with the tenderest affection, but she was not blind to their faults; and whilst she strove to gain their confidence, she endeavoured, by gentle means, to counteract their foibles.

Whilst she was endeavouring to arrange her plans, she received an invitation from her cousin, Mr. Wilmot, an elderly gentleman, and the guardian of her children, to pay him a visit of some months; and knowing that she should receive from him that advice and co-operation, which long experience, a sound judgment, and a well-informed mind could bestow, she hesitated not to accept so desirable a proposal.

On the following morning the party left Brook-street, and in a few days reached the place of their destination, without the occurrence of any material incident on the road. They were received with the hospitality and politeness inseparable from benevolence and good-breeding; and even Susan and Ann, prejudiced as they were, could not help silently allowing, that he was neither quite so ugly, nor so old-fashioned, as they expected.

The evening passed cheerfully in detailing the little events of their journey; and when, as their cousin took them by the hand, in bidding them good night, he kindly said, “I have known both your parents from infancy, and hope that I shall find, on further acquaintance, that you, my dear girls, are equally worthy of my love,” they involuntarily dropped their best curtseys, and returned his salutation with their most good-humoured smiles.

Mr. Wilmot was fond of children, and he devised many schemes for Susan’s and Ann’s amusement. “When we are become better known to each other,” said he to Mrs. Spencer, “I shall submit some plans for their instruction; till then, allow me to dissipate the gloomy ideas that, I dare say, have crept into their minds, from the notion of visiting a recluse old man.” And so completely did he succeed, that, in a few weeks, the two girls wondered that they could ever have imagined such an agreeable visit could be a dull one.

The summer was now in its beauty, and a party was proposed for an excursion on the water. Mr. Wilmot, who had entered into more company since the arrival of his relations, readily acquiesced in the invitation of a neighbouring family, that he and the ladies should partake of the proposed pleasure. The little girls anticipated with youthful impatience the happy morning; and scarcely had day-light entered their chamber, when, jumping out of bed, they drew aside their curtains, in the hope of beholding a resplendent day; and their disappointment was extreme, in finding it pouring with rain, without the slightest prospect of its cessation.

With heavy hearts they descended to the breakfast-table; and after watching for some time the continued pattering of the rain, Susan at last exclaimed, “How mortifying! I cannot think what we shall do with ourselves to-day.” Mr. Wilmot smiled, and said, “I hope, my dear, all our stores of amusement are not exhausted, even though the elements are unpropitious to our excursion. When you have finished your bread and butter, I fancy this key (drawing at the same time one from his pocket,) will unlock some little store of entertainment.”

“Oh, Sir, we will be ready in a few minutes,” said the girls, brightening up at this intelligence; and eagerly dispatching the remains of their meal, they followed their kind cousin through the hall, till he stopped at an oaken door, to which he applied the key; and in an instant they found themselves within a spacious and handsome Picture Gallery.

CHAP. II.

“Stop, stop, my dears,” cried Mr. Wilmot, in answer to the girls’ repeated enquiries: “one question, if you please, at a time. What did you say, Ann?”

“I was wondering, Sir,” answered Ann, “that you should have, amongst this beautiful collection of paintings, an engraving of London Bridge: I have passed over it repeatedly, and never saw any thing remarkable in it.”

“Perhaps not, my dear,” said Mr. Wilmot; “but might not this proceed from your ignorance of the events connected with it. For my own part, I never cross it without musing on the ‘mighty past,’ and contrasting the eventful scenes that have taken place either upon it, or in its immediate vicinity, with the present happy state of commercial bustle and national peace.”

“And pray, Sir, what were those events?” asked Ann: “when did they take place, and when was the bridge built? If it is not too much trouble, perhaps you will have the kindness to relate to us a few of these particular circumstances.”

“Certainly, my love,” answered Mr. Wilmot; “and in endeavouring to give you the information you desire, I trust you will find it not only a detail of dates, but a chain of interesting anecdotes; which have, moreover, for you, Susan, the additional charm of being all true. And now, without any further preface, I shall inform you, that the first notice of the existence of a bridge occurs in the laws of Ethelred, which fix the tolls of vessels coming to Billingsgate ad pontem. Pennant remarks that it could not be prior to 993, when Unlaf the Dane sailed up the river as high as Staines, without interruption; nor yet subsequent to the year 1016, in which Ethelred died, and the great Canute, king of Denmark, when he besieged London, was impeded in his operations by a bridge, which even at that time must have been strongly fortified, to oblige him to have recourse to the vast expedient I shall tell you of. He caused a prodigious ditch to be cut on the south side of the Thames, at Rotherhithe or Redriff, a little to the east of Southwark; which he continued at the south end of the bridge, in the form of a semicircle, opening into the western part of the river. Through this he drew his ships, and effectually completed the blockade of the city. Evidences of this great work were found in the place called Dock Head, near Redriff. In digging this dock, in 1694, fascines (or faggots) of hazel and other brush-wood, fastened down with stakes, were discovered; and large oaken planks, and numbers of piles, have been met with in ditching, in other adjacent parts.

“Previous to the erection of the bridge, a ferry had long been established, on or near the site. Some historians assert, that the first stone bridge was built or commenced in the reign of the empress Maude; but during the boisterous era of her brief dominion, and her incessant struggle for power with king Stephen, it may be supposed that she had little time for beautifying the city.

“Pennant and other antiquarians inform us, that the first stone bridge was built in the reign of John, by Peter, curate of St. Mary Cole Church, a celebrated architect of that period: it proved the work of thirty-three years; and Peter dying in the interim, was buried in the chapel, which he had constructed in one of the piers, in honour of St. Thomas.

“Solidity appears to have been the chief object of the artist; and to accomplish this object, all other considerations were disregarded or sacrificed. It would be superfluous to descant on the well-known defects of the foundation of London Bridge: they survive to this day, though not to the same extent as formerly. You will be surprised to hear, that the bridge was crowded with houses, badly constructed, which leaned in a terrific manner, and were obliged to be propped with timber, which crossed in arches from the roofs, to keep the buildings together, and to prevent them from falling into the river. Dismal confined residences, immersed in dirt and dissonance, for ever assailed by the din of carts and rumbling over the narrow pavement; the clamours of watermen, the rush of falling waters, and the frequent shrieks of drowning wretches, whelmed in the cataract below: to these horrors, were added, at intervals, the calamities of fire and pestilence.

“A conflagration burst out on the south-west side: the bridge was instantly covered with multitudes, who rushed out of the city to extinguish the flames. Whilst engaged in this charitable office, the fire seized the other end, and hemmed in the crowd. Above three thousand persons perished: those who escaped the flames, were swallowed by the waves; and the fire above was only less insatiable than the deluge beneath. Originally there were three openings on each side of the street, decorated with balustrades, to give the passengers a view of the water and the shipping.

“In one of these a draw-bridge was contrived, useful either by way of defence, or for the admission of vessels into the upper part of the river. This was protected by a strong tower, which being well armed and manned, occasioned the repulse of Fauconbridge, in 1471, in his wild attempt upon the city, at the head of a lawless banditti, under pretence of rescuing the unfortunate Henry the Sixth, at that time a prisoner in the Tower in London. Sixty houses on the bridge were burnt in the desperate attack, and no less desperate defence. A second conflict took place during the ill-conducted insurrection of Sir Thomas Wyatt, in the reign of Queen Mary; and the check which that rash adventurer received, in endeavouring to force the bridge, brought on a series of disasters which ended in the total annihilation of his disorganized force. He, and about sixty of his followers, were executed, and their heads gibbeted in the most public parts of the city. So late as the year 1598, Hentner, the German traveller, enumerated above thirty heads, which he had counted with a pathetical accuracy; and the old map of the city, 1597, represents them in horrible clusters.”

“How dreadful such exhibitions must have been!” said Susan.

“Yes, my dear, it must have been revolting to every humane mind: and I gladly turn your attention from the contemplation of this frightful spectacle, to the romantic exploits of Edward Osborne, apprentice to Sir William Hewit, cloth-worker, who, about the year 1536, was an inhabitant of one of the perilous houses on the bridge. A maid-servant, playing with his only daughter in her arms, at a window over the water, dropped the child: death seemed inevitable; for few escaped the whirlpools below, and still fewer were daring enough to hazard their own lives, in the fearful chance of saving another’s; but young Osborne lost not a moment in considering the risk, but plunged gallantly into the torrent, and brought the rescued infant safely to land. His intrepid valour met its due reward: when the young lady attained womanhood, she paid her preserver with her heart. Several persons of rank asked her hand in marriage; and the earl of Shrewsbury, representative of the noble family of Talbot, became a suitor to the merchant’s heiress. But, undazzled by the title which courted her acceptance, with the tender devotedness to her first affection, that renders woman’s love so pure and holy, she kept her faith to her more humble lover; and Sir William, grateful for the precious blessing of a daughter endued with one of the sweetest attributes of feminine virtue, generously gave her to him who best deserved the boon. Edward Osborne proved no common man: he took the tide of fortune at the flood, and became the founder of a family destined to obtain the highest honours in the state. The duke of Leeds sprung from this auspicious union.”

“I am glad this brave young man succeeded so well,” said Ann. “Have you any more anecdotes to tell us, Sir?”

“A melancholy tale,” continued Mr. Wilmot, “is connected with the annals of London Bridge. Amidst the multitudes who have found a grave in the dangerous abyss which yawns beneath, one voluntarily sought in it a resting-place, and oblivion for a spirit deeply wounded by the ingratitude of a friend. The son of Sir William Temple, the bosom counsellor of William of Nassau, yet the honest adviser of his ill-starred master, James the Second, when his father declined to take a share in the new government, accepted the office of secretary of war. His interest procured the release of captain Hamilton, confined in the Tower for high treason, under his promise that he would repair to Tyrconnel, then in arms for king James in Ireland, and persuade him to submit. When arrived in that country, this faithless friend immediately joined the rebels, and led on a regiment to the attack of king William’s troops. The taunts of rival courtiers, the unfortunate termination of his endeavours to serve his sovereign; and, above all, the sting of that barbed arrow, winged by the hand of one whom he had so loved and trusted, threw him into a profound melancholy; and though the king was fully convinced of his innocence, he possessed not fortitude to sustain the mental pang. On the 14th of April, 1689, he hired a boat on the Thames, and directed the waterman to shoot the bridge: at that instant he flung himself into the cataract; and having filled his pockets with stones, to prevent all chance of safety, instantly sunk.

“He left a note in the boat, in explanation of the motives which led to the fatal resolution, to this effect: ‘My folly in undertaking what I was unable to perform, has done the king and kingdom a great deal of prejudice. I wish him all happiness, and abler servants than John Temple.’

“Deeply as we must lament the wrongs and sufferings of this unfortunate gentleman, we cannot help deploring still more his melancholy end. ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ is a sacred and imperative command, equally involving self-destruction with murder. And, although the spirit may be goaded to agony, yet insanity can alone apologize for suicide. Let us hope, that in this instance, it was temporary mental aberration that led to the fatal act.

“But to return to the narrative of London Bridge. The church of St. Magnus, at the bottom of Fish-street Hill, is a memorial of the foresight and sagacity of Sir Christopher Wren. The houses on the bridge, at the time that this building was erected, projected beyond it, and reached the church, when they became too great a nuisance to be tolerated, and were taken down. The foot-path to the bridge was obstructed by the tower of St. Magnus, so that travellers were obliged to traverse the carriage-road. Unwilling to endure the continuance of this inconvenience, a meeting was held to consult on the propriety of cutting a passage through the wall. This expedient was considered to be extremely hazardous; but no other being practicable, it was determined to try it. The workmen, on commencing their operations, found a complete and perfect arch, which this great architect, foreseeing the alterations which time would render necessary on the bridge, had provided for the convenience of posterity. When the present bridge shall be taken down, passengers will have to rejoice at the increased convenience and comfort that a new erection may afford; but the antiquary will sometimes heave a sigh over the destruction of this silent memorial of days long passed away.”

“Pray, Sir,” said Susan, when Mr. Wilmot paused, “who was Sir Thomas Wyatt, of whom you spoke in the early part of your account?”

“Sir Thomas Wyatt, of Allingham Castle in Kent,” replied Mr. Wilmot, “was the son of the poet, wit, and courtier of that name. He was once distinguished for his zealous loyalty, and is said to have been also a catholic, a peculiarly acceptable circumstance in the reign of queen Mary, herself a rigid Papist. Though allied in blood to the Dudleys, not only had he refused, to Northumberland, his concurrence in the nomination of Jane Grey, but without waiting to see which party would prevail, he had proclaimed queen Mary in the market-place at Maidstone; for which instance of attachment he had received her thanks. But Wyatt had been employed, for several years, on embassies to Spain; and the intimate acquaintance he had acquired of the principles and practices of its court, filled him with such horror, that, on the intended marriage of Mary with Philip, he incited his friends and neighbours to rebellion. For this unguarded and very wrong step, he justly suffered the punishment of the laws. Other charges were adduced; and it was said, (how truly cannot now be ascertained,) that it was the intention of the conspirators to dethrone Mary, and place her sister Elizabeth on the throne, having first married her to the earl of Devonshire. These latter accusations might be groundless; but when a man permits himself to take up arms against his sovereign, he cannot say, ‘So far will I go, and no further.’”

“Thank you, Sir,” said Susan, when Mr. Wilmot concluded: “I hope all your anecdotes are not finished.”

“Amongst the names that I have enumerated,” replied Mr. Wilmot, “I forgot to mention Sir William Wallace, who was hanged and quartered in Smithfield, in 1305, and his head stuck upon a pole fixed upon London Bridge.”

“Dear Sir,” said Susan, “what crime had he committed? and who was he?”

“His only crime, my dear,” answered the old gentleman, “was magnanimously defending his country against the ambitious designs of our king Edward the First. But to answer to your second question fully, I must enter first into a few particulars.

“One of the enterprises that presented itself to the ambition of the martial Edward, was the conquest of Scotland; a country which he was desirous of annexing to his hereditary dominions, as Ireland and Wales had already been; or, at least, of reducing it to a state of dependance on the English crown. A dispute arose about this time, between the competitors for the crown of Scotland, John Baliol and Robert Bruce, whose claims were nearly equal, and whose parties were almost of equal strength.

“To avoid the horrors of a civil war, the chiefs determined that the question should be referred to the king of England, for arbitration.

“This appeal furnished Edward with the occasion he had long desired, of laying claim to the sovereignty of Scotland. He endeavoured, in vain, to establish his right by precedents, arguments, and diplomatic reasonings. None of these availed to produce conviction in the minds of the Scotch, till they were backed by a powerful army! Judgment was at last given in favour of Baliol, though clogged with the condition, that he should take the oath of allegiance to the king of England. But this unhappy prince soon found, that, instead of being a sovereign, he was really a slave. To remind him of his dependance on the crown of England, Edward cited him, on every trifling occasion, to his court, and required him to renew his homage continually. This royal vassal was summoned six times in the course of the year, to appear before the king in parliament, and answer to complaints lodged against him; and, on some of these occasions, he was treated with the greatest indignity. Averse as was this prince from war, he could not submit to such degradation, but secretly prepared to shake off a yoke which had proved so galling. An open rupture would probably have immediately ensued, had not the attention of Edward been withdrawn from the affairs of Scotland, by a war with France, in which he found himself suddenly involved. A scuffle which had taken place between the crew of a Norman and English vessel, involved the nations to which they belonged in a destructive war, which raged with great fury for a considerable time, and in which torrents of human blood were wantonly shed.

“In order to avert the storm of war from his own dominions, the French king made common cause with Baliol of Scotland, and encouraged him to assert his independence; and Edward immediately suspended his continental operations, that he might lend his whole strength to the conquest of Scotland, and the subjection or expulsion of its sovereign.

“The Scottish chiefs, who had witnessed with indignation the degradation of their king and country, gathered all their forces; and every thing indicated the approach of a tremendous conflict. But as yet they wanted a leader of sufficient courage and patriotism, around whose banner they might rally with confidence. Baliol made a feeble effort to preserve his crown; but was at length utterly defeated by the earl of Warienne, in the battle of Dunbar, after which he surrendered himself to Edward, who committed him to the Tower of London, where the unfortunate prince languished several years in solitary confinement.

“Nor was the severity of the king confined to the person of the fallen monarch. Many of the nobility of Scotland were sent into England, and immured in different castles; the ensigns of royalty were carried off, with all the contents of the Scottish treasury; and the most important affairs, both civil and military, confided to Englishmen.

“Thus Scotland wore, for a time, the appearance of a conquered country; and it is not improbable that Edward flattered himself, that these hardy sons of the north were completely brought into subjection. If such, however, were his expectations, he was soon undeceived; for whilst the king was carrying on the continental war, for the recovery of those possessions which had formerly belonged to the English crown, a revolution suddenly broke out in Scotland, which was stirred up by a chief of great intrepidity and inflexible patriotism. This celebrated chieftain was Sir William Wallace, whose virtues and heroic deeds make so conspicuous a figure in the annals of Scotland, and whose name well deserves to be enrolled amongst the patriots and martyrs of former generations.

“This generous chief, feeling yet more acutely for the oppressed state of his country, than for his personal wrongs, gathered around him a small but valiant band, which harassed the English army in all its movements, and not unfrequently attacked, with success, detachments of the army, far superior in number to themselves. The reputation, and consequently the followers of Wallace, increased daily; until, at length, he was able to give battle to the earl of Surry, who commanded an army of forty thousand veteran soldiers, and he defeated him, with great loss, in the celebrated battle of Stirling. Following the tide of success, which had set in so strongly in his favour, Wallace drove the English before him, out of Scotland, penetrated into the border counties, took possession of several English fortresses of great strength, and returned laden with the spoils of victory. Edward was informed of these disasters, while prosecuting a war in Flanders, and lost no time in repairing to the north of England, with all the troops he could collect. In a short time he found himself at the head of an army, containing upwards of eighty thousand infantry and seven thousand cavalry. Thus powerfully reinforced, he marched forward to meet the enemy, who were encamped near Falkirk. A tremendous battle ensued, in which, after prodigies of valour performed on both sides, the English were completely victorious. But notwithstanding the overwhelming forces of the English monarch, and the divided state of their own country, the Scottish patriots were not deterred from persisting in the attempt to regain their independence, however hopeless it might appear. They rallied again and again, after repeated defeats and losses, until, at length, the principal nobility of Scotland, moved by jealousy of each other, and corrupted by the flatteries of Edward, deserted, and finally betrayed, their gallant leader. The satisfaction of Edward was too great to be concealed, when he learned that Wallace had been delivered into his hands, by the treachery of Sir John Monteith, one of his own countrymen: unmindful of the generosity which had distinguished his youth, he now breathed revenge against his fallen adversary, and ordered him to be conducted to London, where he was publicly executed as a traitor, though he had never been a subject of the English crown.”

“Oh, how unjust,” said Susan. “Do tell us some more anecdotes.” “Oh, pray do,” said Ann.

“I am sorry to refuse you,” answered Mr. Wilmot; “but it is two o’clock, and it is time to join your mamma. Besides,” continued he, smiling, “we should even use our rational pleasures with moderation, if we mean to continue the enjoyment of them.”

“Well, then, dear Mr. Wilmot, you will let us come soon again,” cried the girls.

“Yes, my dears,” he replied. “But see, the sun is shining: we can take a little walk before dinner: it will refresh you.”

The party then left the gallery.

CHAP. III.

As it is not my intention to enter so fully into the history of Susan and Ann, as it is to relate the true stories they heard from Mr. Wilmot, I shall only just tell my young readers, that the following day proving fine, they enjoyed the promised excursion on the water. The weather now becoming very sultry, and the children unable to take their morning walks, their mother and Mr. Wilmot, who sought to mingle instruction with amusement, proposed that they should spend an hour or two, in the middle of every day, in the picture gallery.

The two little girls were delighted with this proposition, and followed with alacrity their good-humoured conductor, as he kindly led the way.

When they had entered the room, Mr. Wilmot stopped before a fine sketch of an entrance into Oxford; and whilst pointing out to the children the college at which he had been educated, he enquired whether they had ever been told who were the first founders of the university.

The children answering in the negative, Mr. Wilmot proceeded to tell them that it was founded in the year 886[^[1]], in the second year after St. Grimbald’s coming over to England. Its first regents and readers in divinity were, St. Neot, an abbot and eminent professor of theology; and St. Grimbald, an eloquent and most excellent interpreter of the Holy Scriptures; grammar and rhetoric were taught by Asser, a monk of extraordinary learning; logic, music, and arithmetic, by John, a monk of St. David’s; and geometry and astronomy by another John, a monk and a colleague of St. Grimbald, a man of acute wit and immense erudition. “These lectures,” says the annalist, “were often honoured with the presence of the most illustrious and invincible king Alfred, whose memory, to every judicious taste, shall be sweeter than honey.” From this small beginning arose this now celebrated university, which is at once the ornament and pride of the land.

[1]. See Camden’s Britannica.

A few observations made by Mrs. Spencer, who had joined the party, led Mr. Wilmot to give the following sketch of the progress of Christianity, from its first introduction into this country, together with the origin and establishment of the protestant religion.

“Various are the opinions,” said he, “entertained respecting the precise period when, or by whom, Christianity was first introduced into this happy island. Nor can it tend to our improvement, though it might gratify our curiosity, to know, whether St. Paul, when he visited the ‘western isles,’ included England; or whether his immediate predecessors, or followers, preached the ‘glad tidings of salvation’ to the natives. It is sufficient for us to know, that the gospel found its way hither some time in the first century; since, in the persecution of the Christians, by the cruel and tyrannical Nero, in the year 64, many of them fled hither for an asylum. Its progress in Great Britain, during the three first centuries, is certainly involved in some obscurity; though it probably increased during the fourth century, as we find three English bishops present, at the council held at Arminium, respecting the Arian controversy.

“About this period the Saxons, having subdued the country, pursued, with unrelenting cruelty, the Christians: multitudes of whom were put to death, and thousands sought and found a refuge in the mountains of Wales. History has stamped the character of our countrymen in this age with infamy. From the sovereign to the meanest of his subjects, licentiousness and gross immorality abounded; and it is cheering to turn from this darkened era, to the labours of the celebrated St. Augustine, and forty other monks, who, having been sent from Rome, for the purpose of converting our island to the faith, succeeded in persuading the Anglo Saxons to embrace Christianity, about the year 590. On Christmas-day, king Ethelbert and ten thousand of his subjects were baptized; and though, amongst this crowd of professed converts, there is reason to fear that few possessed more than the name of Christian, we may yet believe there were some on whom the ‘day-star’ had not risen in vain.

“In the seventh century our island had almost universally received the Christian religion: popish superstition had, however, unhappily mixed itself with the pure faith, and increased rapidly. One great source of corruption in the clergy, was the practice that now prevailed of persuading people to relinquish their property to them, and go on pilgrimage.

“On the death of Augustine, who had been consecrated the first archbishop of Canterbury, Laurentius succeeded to the vacant see; and, through his instrumentality, king Edbald was not only converted, but promoted the gospel by every means in his power.

“The first Saxon king who completely cast all his ‘idols to the moles and to the bats,’ was Ercombert, the son of Edbald, who reigned in 640.

“It is impossible to contemplate this era of our national history, without regretting the superstitious, and even idolatrous rites, which were interwoven with the profession of the gospel made by our forefathers: yet there is no doubt that genuine religion was possessed by many, and Great Britain, at this period, was allowed the honour of enlightening several of the neighbouring northern nations.

“In the eighth century, the pope had obtained such influence, that he exalted himself not only above every created being, but laid claim to prerogatives and powers which belong to Omnipotence alone. The distinguishing doctrines of the gospel were hid under a mass of ceremonious observances: pardon for sin was to be purchased at the hands of the priests; and immense sums were raised, by paying for masses, to deliver the souls of the dead from purgatory.

“Still more lamentable was the state of religion in the ninth century. But Divine Providence, at this melancholy season, raised up a ‘nursing-father’ to the English church, in the person of king Alfred, who seems to have ‘feared the Lord from his youth,’ having early habituated himself to prayer. He was remarkable for his learning, as I have before told you. He died in the year 900, and was buried at Hyde Abbey in Winchester.

“Historians are all agreed that, in the tenth century, scarcely a vestige of true piety could be found. It was called ‘an iron age, barren of all goodness—a leaden age, abounding in all wickedness.’ ‘Christianity,’ to borrow the words of Melancthon, ‘during the middle ages, was become a mere compound of philosophy and superstition.’ ‘What religion did survive,’ says an admirable author, ‘was confined to a few—was immured in cloisters—was exhausted in quibbles—was wasted in unprofitable subtleties—was exhibited with little speculative clearness, and less practical clearness.’ Yet, even in this dreary age, one faint spark of light is discoverable. Bernard and Guthebald, two of the natives of Britain, went as missionaries to Norway, where they successfully preached the gospel, which extended itself from thence to the Orkneys, Greenland, and Iceland.

“Religion and literature both rather improved in the eleventh century. The celebrated speech of William the Conqueror, after he became king of England, has been often repeated. This dauntless monarch refused to be considered as the vassal of the pope. ‘I hold my kingdom,’ said he, ‘from none but God and my sword.’ This king was a great encourager of learning.

“In the twelfth century Oxford became celebrated as the seat of learning. The clergy now boldly claimed exemption from civil jurisdiction, and their right to appeal on all occasions to the pope. To these extravagant pretensions king Stephen readily assented; but they were resisted by his successor, Henry the Second. In spiritual affairs he was, however, enslaved to the popedom; and instances of his persecutions are recorded, towards thirty men and women, who fled into this country, from Germany, to avoid similar cruelties.

“In this century Richard the First engaged in the Crusades, to recover the Holy Land from the Turks, but failed in his enterprise. His brother John, who succeeded him, not only ignominiously swore fealty to the pope, but stipulated for himself and his successors to pay an annual tribute to Rome for ever, on pain of forfeiture of his kingdom. Some idea may be formed of the thraldom in which this monarch was held, from the following anecdote, recorded with feelings of just indignation, by Holinshed, in his Chronicles.

“‘When,’ says he, ‘John, upon just occasion, had received some grudge against the ambitious behaviour of the Cistercian monks, in the second year of his reign; and, upon denial to pay such sums of money as was allotted unto them, had caused seizure to be made of such horses, swine, cows, and other things of theirs, which were maintained in his forests, they denounced him as fast among themselves, with bell, book, and candle, to be accursed and excommunicated. Thereto they so handled the matter with the pope and their friends, that the king was fain to yield to their good graces: insomuch that a meeting for pacification was appointed between them, at Lincoln, by means of the archbishop of Canterbury, who went often between him and the Cistercian commissioners, before the matter could be settled. In the end, the king himself came also unto the said commissioners, as they sat in their chapterhouse, and fell down at their feet; craving pardon for his offences unto them, and heartily requiring that they would, from thenceforth, commend him and his realm, in their prayers, unto the protection of the Almighty, and receive him into their fraternity: promising, moreover, full satisfaction of their damages sustained, and to build a house of their order, in whatsoever place of England it should please them to assign; and this he confirmed by charter.’

“The thirteenth century commenced with the persecution of the Waldenses, one million of whom are said to have perished in France; and the duke of Alva boasted that he destroyed thirty-six thousand of these pious people in the Netherlands.

“The Dominican and Franciscan Friars arose about this time, and were in great repute amongst the people, on account of their sanctity. But their rapacity was unlimited; and the cloak of religion alone disguised their exactions. Such was the superstition of the age, that our countryman, Roger Bacon, was accused of magic, on account of his extraordinary literary attainments, and confined in prison a long time, for no other crime. He appears to have been a man not only of vast learning, but of a philosophical and inventive genius.

“In the fourteenth century, true religion was scarcely to be recognized. The king and people of England were reduced to a state of almost complete vassalage to the pope. In the reign of Henry the Fifth, a law was passed against the perusal of the Scriptures in England. It was enacted, ‘That whatsoever they were, that should read the Scriptures in the mother tongue, they should forfeit land, cattle, life, and goods, from their heirs for ever; and so be condemned for heretics to God, enemies to the crown, and most errant traitors to the land.’

“In this century arose the order of Jesuits; an order which obtained a political influence almost unparalleled. Their founder, Ignatius Loyola, was born at the castle of Loyola, in the province of Guipuscoa, in Spain, in 1391: he was first page to Ferdinand the Fifth, king of Spain, and then an officer in his army; in which he signalized himself by his valour, and was wounded in both legs, at the siege of Pampeluna, in 1421.

“To this circumstance the Jesuits owe their origin; for, whilst he was under care of his wounds, a life of the Saints was put into his hands, which determined him to forsake the military for the ecclesiastical profession. His first devout exercise was to devote himself to the Virgin Mary, as her knight: he then went a pilgrimage to the Holy Land; and, on his return to Europe, he continued his theological studies in the universities of Spain, though he was then thirty-three years of age. After this he went to Paris; and in France laid the foundation of this new order, the Institutes of which he presented to pope Paul the Third, who made many objections to them; but Ignatius, adding to his three vows, of Chastity, Poverty, and Obedience, a fourth of implicit submission to the Holy See, the institution was at length confirmed; and its founder expired the following year, viz. in 1450.

“Whilst we cannot but consider Ignatius Loyola in error, and must most fully allow that the influence his followers obtained, was dangerous and destructive; ‘yet, perhaps, of all the remarkable men whose lives have been recorded, no one has displayed more ability in discovering his own deficiencies, and more perseverance in correcting them. By the rare union of unwearied patience and consummate prudence, with perfect enthusiasm, he accomplished the object of his ambition; and lived to see a wider range of success than his boldest hopes could have anticipated[^[2]].’

[2]. Quarterly Review.

“But to return to my narration. No punishment appears to have been more frequently inflicted by the clergy, than that of public penance; and as a curious instance of it occurs in this century, in the reign of Henry the Fifth, I shall give you the particulars.

“In the afternoon of Easter day, a time which required devotion, at a sermon in the east of London, a great fray arose in the said church, between the Lord Strange and Sir John Trussel, on account of some misunderstanding subsisting between their wives. Many of the spectators interfering, in order to appease, if possible, the tumult, they were not only several of them badly wounded, but one man, named Thomas Petwardine, killed on the spot. The gentlemen were in consequence apprehended and committed to the Tower, and the service suspended.

“When information reached the archbishop of Canterbury respecting this outrageous profanation of the church, he caused the offenders to be excommunicated in St. Paul’s, and all other churches in London; and shortly after he sat at St. Magnus, in order to enquire into the authors of the offence, who were principally discovered to be Strange and his wife. On the following first of May, the offenders submitted themselves to do penance, and swore to do it agreeably as was enjoined, which was as follows: That, immediately, all their servants should, in their shirts, go before the parson of St. Dunstan’s, from St. Paul’s to the said St. Dunstan’s seat, and the Lord Strange and his lady bare-footed; Reginald Henwood, archdeacon of London, following them. Also it was appointed, at the consecrating or hallowing the said church, which they had profaned, the lady should fill all the vessels with water, and offer likewise to the altar an ornament of ten pounds; and the lord, her husband, a pix (or chest in which the Host is kept) of silver, value of five pounds: which done, by way of satisfactory expiation, they were absolved; but Lord Strange had first made the wife of the said Petwardine, killed in the fray, large amends.

“But, in the midst of this papal tyranny, loud complaints began to be heard; and, towards the latter end of this century, attempts were made to reform them. Thomas Bradwardine, archbishop of Canterbury, who devoted himself to the study of the Holy Scriptures, and whose writings display the soundness of his doctrines, flourished in this age. He may be justly termed one of the morning stars of the Reformation.

“About the year 1440, the art of printing was introduced; and this, under the divine blessing, opened the way for the promulgation of the sacred volume, with a rapidity unknown to manuscript editions. The first printed book with moveable types, was a copy of the Bible, which made its appearance between the years 1450 and 1452. This discovery is certainly to be attributed to the Germans, whether it consisted in printing with blocks of wood, or types moveable at pleasure. John Guttenburgh, of Mentz, has the best claim to the honour of this invention. The introduction of this invaluable art into this country, in 1447, is justly ascribed to William Caxton, a merchant of London, who acquired a knowledge of it in his travels abroad. He is said to have been a native of Caxton, a village near Cambridge, towards the latter end of the reign of Edward the Fourth. The first book printed in the English tongue was ‘The Recuyell of the History of Troy;’ and is dated September the nineteenth, 1471, at Cologne. The ‘Game of Chess,’ dated in 1474, is allowed, by all typographical antiquaries, to have been the first specimen of the art among us. Mr. Caxton died in 1486, or, according to other accounts, in 1491.

“In this century, viz. in 1428, the bones of John Wickliffe, the rising sun of the Reformation, were taken up and burnt, by an order of the council of Constance; and his works were thrown publicly into the flames, at Oxford.

“This great man was born at Richmond in Yorkshire, in the year 1324. He was presented to the rectory of Lutterworth in Leicestershire, through the influence of his friend the duke of Lancaster; and, in spite of the machinations of the priests, he not only preached with great success, but his doctrines became extremely popular, and he expired in peace, on his living, in the year 1384.

“The event of his death was hailed with triumph by the popish faction. But in vain did tyranny or artifice strive to stop the progress of truth: his followers rapidly increased; and, under the name of Lollards, we find them enduring, in the fifteenth century, a furious persecution. Yet, in spite of all that cruelty could devise, the doctrines of Wickliffe were not only maintained, but, one hundred and fifty years afterwards, we find that they had made great progress through all ranks in the nation.

“It was at this period that the Reformation from popery and its errors commenced, under the reign of Henry the Eighth; and it was instigated, in a great measure, by the resistance of the pope to the divorce of this monarch, from the widow of his brother Arthur, to whom he had been married several years, and by whom he had one daughter, afterwards queen Mary. Religious scruples respecting the validity of this union, were the ostensible motives given by the capricious king; whilst a passion for Ann Boleyn, a celebrated and accomplished beauty, was the real motive which led to a step so wonderfully over-ruled for good.

“That Henry, previous to this time, had been a devoted papist, may be inferred from a book which he wrote in defence of popery, against Martin Luther, the celebrated Saxon reformer; for which the pope had bestowed on him the title of ‘Defender of the Faith,’ still retained by our monarchs. During this period many persons suffered persecution; and though it is far from my intention to enter into an account of many of the ‘noble army of martyrs,’ yet, to render you thankful for the mercies you enjoy in this privileged land, I will just mention, that, in 1519, six men and a woman were burnt at Coventry, for teaching the Lord’s prayer, the creed, and the ten commandments, in the vulgar tongue.

“On the 14th of November, 1532, Henry was secretly united to Ann Boleyn. On the second of May, 1534, the sentence of divorce was formally pronounced by Cranmer, between the king and Catherine of Arragon; and, on the twenty-eighth of the same month, his marriage with Ann Boleyn (who afterwards became the mother of our celebrated queen Elizabeth) was publicly confirmed. The pope’s excommunication followed this step immediately; and Henry was so enraged, that he resolved to break entirely with the see of Rome, and to abolish the papal authority for ever.

“The parliament confirmed his proceedings, and thus were our forefathers delivered from the tyranny of Rome.

“But, strange as it may appear to you, persecution still raged, and many sufferers might be named, who, about this period, underwent martyrdom; for Henry, though he had indignantly renounced the temporal authority of the pope, was still zealously devoted, in all spiritual matters, to the Romish forms. Neither party, consequently, escaped his wrath. The reformers, who, by their preaching and writings, attacked the doctrinal errors, and exposed the superstitious and burdensome ceremonies of papacy, were equally liable to punishment with the Romish priests and laymen, who denied his supremacy. Whilst the lesser abbeys, to the number of three hundred and seventy-six, were suppressed, and, not long after, the greater ones shared the same fate; yet, with an inconsistency peculiar to Henry’s character, he caused several eminent protestants, among whom was the excellent lady Ann Askew, to be burnt to death in Smithfield.

“One great act was achieved in this reign—the translation of the Bible into English; and, in the month of September, 1538, Thomas Cromwell, lord privy-seal, viceregent to the king’s highness, sent forth instruction to all bishops and curates throughout the realm; charging them to see, that in every parish-church, the Bible of the largest volume printed in English, should be placed for all men to read in: and a book of register was also provided and kept in every parish-church, wherein was to be written every wedding, christening, and burying, within the same parish for ever. Crosses and images in many places were taken down: one image in particular is mentioned, as exposed at St. Paul’s cross, by the bishop of Rochester, and afterwards broken and plucked in pieces. This piece of machinery seems to have been curiously contrived, so as to move the eyes and lips.

“But the death of Henry put an end to the dangerous versatility of his opinions; and the short reign of Edward the Sixth, who succeeded his father when but nine years of age, was marked by signal benefits to the protestant cause. Not only were sundry injunctions issued for the removing of images out of all churches, and measures taken for the suppression of idolatry and superstition within his realms and dominions, but the Homilies (which are still in use in the church) were composed by many of the most pious and learned men of the age, and directed to be read generally for the edification of the lower classes:—the Lord’s supper was ordered to be administered to the laity:—the Catechism was compiled for the use of children, by Cranmer:—the Liturgy was established by law; and the Articles were drawn up, explanatory of the doctrines of the Church of England, and which, in the main, appear, under the name of the thirty-nine articles, in the Prayer-book.

“The apparel of the clergy, after the reformation, underwent a change, and was restricted to sable garments. Previous to this, the graduates went either in a variety of colours, or in garments of light hue, as yellow, red, green, &c. with their shoes piked, their hair crisped, their girdles armed with silver; their shoes, spurs, bridles, &c. buckled with light metal; their apparel, for the most part, of silk and richly furred; their caps laced and buttoned with gold: so that a priest of those days would not now be recognized as belonging to the order.

“But the hopes of the Reformers were clouded by the premature death of the young king, who expired at Greenwich, the sixth of July, 1553.

“He possessed undoubted piety; and his talents appear to have been very great. It is related of him, that he knew not only the name and style of living of his great officers and judges, but in what estimation their religion and conversation were held. He had a singular respect for justice; and was particularly assiduous in the dispatch of business. Charitable and humane in an extraordinary degree, this exemplary prince just “sparkled” for a time, then was “exhaled,” and “went,” undoubtedly, “to Heaven.”

“The gloomy era which followed, on Mary’s accession to the throne, is marked, in the memory of every Englishman, with sentiments of horror and detestation. The queen, a zealous catholic, was anxious to restore the popish forms of worship; and a statute was passed, abolishing all the laws relative to religion, which had been enacted in Edward’s reign.

“Mass was again celebrated, images and crosses erected, and punishments followed any affront to the priests: reconciliation with the pope followed.

“Married clergy were dispossessed of their preferments; and reading the sacred volume, in the vulgar tongue, not only forbidden, under pain of death; but, in the year 1557, the papists actually burnt all the English Bibles they could seize.

“Persecution raged with accumulated violence; and amongst the excellent men who preferred a good conscience to life itself, I shall only enumerate Cranmer, Latimer, Ridley, and Hooper.

“Others, equally valiant for truth, perished also in the flames; but their numbers were too great to allow of my enumerating them. In one year alone, eighty-five persons were burnt for their religious opinions; and the joy and holy triumph, with which many of them expired, under the excruciating torment of the flames, served to confirm the more wavering, and strengthen the surrounding crowd.

“But, in mercy to the nation, Divine Providence terminated this cruel reign, by the death of the queen, on the 19th of November, 1558; and Elizabeth’s accession was ushered in with every demonstration of joy.

“Nor did the conduct of this wonderful woman disappoint the expectations raised on her behalf; and her long and prosperous reign was marked by proceedings of wisdom. By an act of oblivion, she quieted the fears of those who had reason to dread her power, released all those confined for conscience sake, and consulted on the best plan for bringing about, and settling the reformed religion. As soon as the parliament met, several bills were passed in favour of the protestant cause.

“The English liturgy was restored; and, in short, all the laws respecting religion, which were made in the reign of king Edward, were revised, and those of queen Mary repealed.

“All offensive popish observances were abolished, and the national worship was modelled to nearly the present standard.

“Thus was the Reformation finally settled, under the wise policy and energetic measures of queen Elizabeth; to whom, under God, the protestants are indebted for their deliverance from superstition and tyranny.”

“Excuse me, Sir,” said Mrs. Spencer, when Mr. Wilmot had finished his narration; “but you spoke of the Lollards as a persecuted sect, and I fancy the girls are ignorant from whence the title was derived. Perhaps you will kindly give them this information, and add a few more particulars of the life of John Wickliffe.”

“The Lollards,” replied Mr. Wilmot, “were so called from Raynard Lollard, who lived in the thirteenth century. He was at first a Franciscan monk, and afterwards a zealous preacher and martyr. After his death, all the reputed heretics were indiscriminately called Lollards, by their sanguinary persecutors. These sects were dreadfully oppressed in France and Flanders; but in England they were, for a time, protected by the powerful influence of the celebrated John Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, and many other noblemen, who either secretly or openly espoused their cause, in defiance of all the machinations of the Catholic clergy.

“The rise of this sect in England, under the celebrated John Wickliffe and his followers, may justly be considered as the earliest dawn of the Reformation. There were, indeed, some solitary individuals who had before protested against the growing corruptions of the Romish church; and these, as being reformers at heart, and as having made some honourable, though ineffectual attempts at reformation, deserve to be remembered with honour. The first of these was Robert Groteste, or Great-head, bishop of Lincoln, who is supposed to have been born about A.D. 1175, and flourished in the reign of Henry the Third. He was a man of great learning, fervent piety, and undaunted courage. As soon as he was called to the episcopal chair he began to reform abuses, especially in the religious houses belonging to his diocese. This great and good man both saw and lamented the corrupt state of the church to which he belonged, and turned all his episcopal and personal influence to purify it from these flagrant corruptions. Conscious that Rome was the fountain-head of all, he aimed at cleansing the spring, that the streams issuing from it might be pure also. When any bulls were received from thence, containing instructions contrary to the gospel, and injurious to morality and religion, he tore them in pieces with indignation. Nor was he content with refusing to comply with these instructions; but he wrote to the pope, when in the plenitude of his power, letters of sharp reproof and faithful admonition. When these philippics were received at Rome, the pontiff threatened vengeance against his faithful monitor; which he was only deterred from executing, by the earnest persuasions of his cardinals, and conviction of the public odium he should incur, by sacrificing a man of such exemplary piety and distinguished learning. It is no small honour to this excellent prelate, that he resisted, successfully, the papal power, at a period in which that power seemed to be irresistible, and when the mightiest sovereigns were compelled to crouch before the Roman pontiff.

“The next individual who lifted up a standard against the corruptions of popery, during that period, was Richard Knapwell, a Dominican friar, who maintained, in the year 1286, several propositions which were deemed heretical by the prelates of that age, and most furiously controverted by archbishop Peckham. The greater part of these propositions were unintelligible jargon, relative to the sacrifice of the mass; but the last, which was probably the most obnoxious of the whole, contained a sound Protestant maxim: namely, ‘That, in articles of faith, a man is not bound to set on the authority of the pope, or of any priest or doctor; but that the holy Scriptures, and right reason, are the only foundations of our assent.’ These doctrines were denounced, but it is not known what became of the author of them. Of Thomas Bradwardine, archbishop of Canterbury, I have already told you. But the individual who aimed the most effectual blow at the mighty fabric of papal superstition, was the celebrated John Wickliffe. This primitive reformer delivered lectures on divinity, in Merton College, Oxford. His learning acquired him great reputation; but he soon became disgusted with the vices, ignorance, and rapacity of the clergy, and preached against them with great zeal. His boldness attracted the attention of king Edward the Third, from whom he received several benefices, and by whom he was sent on several embassies to the court of Rome. Here he saw so much to confirm his former opinions, that, on his return, he inveighed, with increased vehemence, against the errors of popery. He soon proceeded so far as to deny the pope’s supremacy, and even to denounce him as antichrist. This effrontery, in an humble ecclesiastic, soon armed against him all the dignitaries, of the church which he had presumed to assail; and subjected him to the thundering anathemas of the pontiff, who commanded him to be apprehended and condemned for his heretical discourses.

“The rector of Lutterworth would soon have been the prey of his mighty adversaries, had not the duke of Lancaster, and lord Henry Percy, then marshal of England, espoused his cause, and afforded him protection. Whether their conduct proceeded from political or religious motives, is a matter of uncertainty; but, whatever might be the inducement, it had the happiest effect; for it not only enabled Wickliffe to pursue his Herculean task, but emboldened many, both of the clergy and laity, to embrace his tenets.

“In a few years the Wickliffites, or Lollards, became exceedingly numerous, notwithstanding the attempts, made by argument and force, to suppress them. The doctrines taught by this reformer were similar to those of the latter reformers, but far less purified from error. They were, however, sufficient to alarm the Roman hierarchy, and make them earnestly desirous of repressing them by force, since it was vain to use arguments.

“The most opprobrious epithets were applied to this most faithful and diligent labourer, who continued, till death, to discharge, with fidelity and zeal, the duties connected with his official station.

“His great work of translating the Holy Scriptures was completed a little before his decease, which took place in the year 1384. This latter event was hailed with delight by his enemies, who fondly imagined that it would lead to the overthrow of his heresy. But they found that it had taken too deep root to be exterminated; and though, during the disturbed years of Richard’s reign, attempts were made to destroy the writings of Wickliffe, and his followers, and to remove all who were suspected of Lollard sentiments, from their benefices, they continued to flourish, and were finally triumphant, as I have before related to you.”

“I am sure Mary Ann and Susan are much obliged to you for the information you have given them,” said Mrs. Spencer; “and I hope they will prove their sense of the obligation, by endeavouring to remember what you have told them.”

The little girls looked assent to their mamma’s observation; and Mary Ann enquired if Mr. Wilmot would object to giving some little account of the Crusades.

“So far from objecting, my dear,” answered her kind cousin, “it gives me pleasure to hear you make enquiries, since it proves that you are interested in my anecdotes.

“The object of the Crusades was to drive the infidels out of the possession of the Holy Land; and the zeal of a fanatical monk, towards the end of the eleventh century, gave rise to this wild undertaking. Peter the Hermit (for so he was named) ran from province to province, with a cross in his hand, exciting kings and people to this holy war, as it was called. His enthusiasm spread with astonishing rapidity: not only princes, and nobles, and warriors; but shepherds and mechanics, women and children, left their peaceful occupations, and hastened to enlist themselves under the banner of their deluded leader. It is asserted by contemporary authors, that six millions of persons, at different times, assumed the badge of the cross. These crosses were worn on their clothes, and their colours distinguished the different nations. The English wore them white, the French red, the Flemish green, the Germans black, and the Italians yellow.

“In the second Crusade a considerable troop of women rode amongst the Germans: they were arrayed with the spear and shield. But the historian satirically remarks, that some love of usual delights had mingled itself with the desire of great exploits; for they were remarkable for the splendour of their dress, and the bold leader was called the golden-footed dame.

“These ladies were, however, of an age to judge for themselves; and however we may smile at their folly, our pity is not excited, as it is for the children of France and Germany, who, seduced by the preaching of fanatics, about the year 1213, thought themselves authorized by Heaven, to attempt the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre; and ran about the country, crying, ‘Lord Jesus Christ restore the cross to us.’ Boys and girls stole from their homes: no bolts, no bars, no fear of fathers, or love of mothers, could hold them back; and the number of youthful converts was thirty thousand. They were accompanied by some fanatical persons, some of whom were taken and hanged at Cologne. The children passed through France, crossed the Alps; and those who survived hunger and thirst, presented themselves at the gates of the sea-ports of Italy and the south of France. Many were driven back to their homes; but seven large ships, full of them, went from Marseilles. Two of the vessels were wrecked on the isle of St. Peter; the rest of the ships went to Bugia and Alexandria, and the master sold the children to slavery. These dreadful facts are mentioned by four contemporary writers.

“In the third crusade, Richard the First, surnamed Cœur de Lion, as I before told you, signalized himself eminently. The very word Richard was dreaded in Syria, so great was the terror he had spread. Syrian mothers used to frighten their children, by telling them that king Richard was coming; and horses, according to vulgar tradition, dreaded the lion-hearted monarch; for, if a courser started, the rider would exclaim, ‘What! do you think king Richard is in the bush?’ In the year 1193, died the sultan Saladin, the Saracen chief; and, as his character was a remarkable one, I shall give you a brief sketch of it. He was in the fifty-seventh year of his age when he expired. During twenty-two years he had reigned over Egypt, and for nineteen years was absolute master of Syria. No Asiatic monarch has filled so large a space, in the annals of Europe, as the antagonist of Cœur de Lion. He was a compound of the dignity and the baseness, the greatness and the littleness of man. As the Moslem hero of the third holy war, he proved himself a valiant soldier and a skilful general. He hated the Christian cause; for he was a zealous Mussulman, and his principles authorized him to make war upon the enemies of the prophet; but human sympathy mollified the rigour of his enthusiasm, and, when his foes were suppliant, he often forgot the sternness of Islamism.

“He was fond of religious exercises and studies; but his mind was so much above the age in which he lived, that he never consulted soothsayers or astrologers.

“He had gained the throne by blood, artifice, and treachery; but, though ambitious, he was not tyrannical: he was mild in his government, and the friend and dispenser of justice. Eager for the possession, but indifferent to the display of power, he was simple in his manners, and unostentatious in deportment. He attempted the arts of conciliation and tuition, to change the religious sentiments of the Egyptian Fatemites; but the intolerant spirit of his religion would sometimes appear; the politician was lost in the zealot; and he inflicted punishment on those who presumed to question any of the dogmas of a Mussulman’s creed.

“But I must refer you,” said Mr. Wilmot, “to Mills’s History of the Crusades, for further particulars of this eventful period: in the meanwhile, it is sufficient for me to say, that, before the expiration of the thirteenth century, the whole band of adventurers were driven from their Asiatic possessions. There were, in all, nine Crusades; in which, according to Voltaire, two millions of human beings perished.”

“It was, indeed,” remarked Mrs. Spencer, “a dreadful waste and effusion of human blood. One beneficial consequence arose, however, from these extravagant excursions, which was neither expected nor intended.

“It was impossible for men to travel through so many lands as the Crusaders did, without imparting some of the improvement or knowledge they had gained, to their respective countries, on their return. The spirit of commerce was by this means fostered and spread, the progress of navigation advanced, and useful information was circulated.”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Wilmot; “and evil was thus wisely overruled for good. But,” added he, “I recollect that I have omitted to give my little cousins any account of the Reformation in Scotland; which, as it commenced in the reign of Edward the Sixth, and was concluded in that of Elizabeth, under the intrepid, and, it must be confessed, austere John Knox, could not, with propriety, be introduced before; especially, as it was not so much my design to interweave the history of individuals, in the sketch I have given, as to mark the progress of religion, from the first century to the age of Elizabeth.

“When popery was the established religion in Scotland, this eminent man, (who had been one of the chaplains of king Edward the Sixth,) narrowly escaped with his life, from cardinal Beaton, the archbishop of Glasgow, and bishop Hamilton; and he was afterwards cited before bishop Tunstall, for preaching against the mass; and was obliged to leave England, by the persecution of Protestants, which arose on queen Mary’s accession to the throne. Returning, however, to Scotland, in 1559, just as a public prosecution was carrying on against the Protestants, who were about to be tried at Stirling, (through the treachery of the queen regent, who had promised them protection,) he did not hesitate to join their ranks, and share their dangers. By the most bold and intrepid conduct, he exposed the abuses of popery, and animated the nation against it, by every means in his power; in which he spared no labour, and dreaded no danger.

“He corresponded with Cecil, the able and faithful minister of queen Elizabeth; and by that means, was chiefly instrumental in establishing those negociations between ‘the congregation’ and the English, which terminated in the march of an English army into Scotland, under the orders of queen Elizabeth, to aid the Protestants, and to assist them against the persecutions of the queen regent.

“This army being joined by almost all the principal men of Scotland, proceeded with such vigour and success, that they obliged the French forces, who had been the principal support of the queen regent’s tyranny, to evacuate the kingdom, and thus restored the parliament to its former independence. Of that body a great majority had embraced the Protestant religion; and, encouraged by the ardour and number of their friends, they improved every opportunity which occurred, of overthrowing the whole fabric of popery. They sanctioned the whole confession of faith, submitted to them by Knox and the other reformed ministers. They abolished the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts, and transferred the causes to the cognizance of the civil court; and they prohibited the exercise of religious worship, according to the rites of the Romish church.

“On the death of the queen regent, Mary, queen of Scots, arrived from France, and immediately established the popish service, in her own chapel, which, by her protection and countenance, was much frequented. Knox opposed this, as he did the other evidences, given by Mary, of her attachment to the Romish cause.

“An act of the queen’s privy council having been proclaimed at Edinburgh, immediately on her arrival, forbidding any disturbance to be given to the mass, under pain of death, Knox openly declared against it, in his sermon, on the following Sunday; and on the marriage of the queen with Darnley, he not only preached another sermon, expressing his dislike to the alliance, on account of the religious principles avowed by the young nobleman; but when the latter went to hear him preach, he took occasion to speak his opinions, in terms certainly not the most gentle. Such plain and honest dealing as this, was not very likely to be palatable to a court, and he was accordingly silenced.

“By no means, however, deterred, he went on, in private, with the great work of reformation; and was one of the most active and successful instruments, in delivering Scotland from papal corruption, and priestly domination. He lived to preach against the awful massacre of the Protestants, in Paris, on St. Bartholomew’s-day; and desired that the French ambassador might be informed that he had done so.

“He died the twenty-fourth of November, 1572, and was interred at Edinburgh, several lords attending his funeral; and particularly the earl of Morton, who was on that day chosen regent of Scotland, and who, as soon as he was laid in the grave, exclaimed, ‘There lies one who never feared the face of man—who has been often threatened with dirk and dagger, but yet has ended his days in peace and honour; for he had God’s providence watching over him in a special manner, whenever his life was sought.’

“In judging of the character of John Knox, we must make some allowance for the age in which he lived, and the part he was destined to act. Happily for us, we live in a day when party spirit and religious bigotry are much softened: let us, therefore, endeavour to be thankful for the blessing, and learn to look with charity and brotherly love, on those who may differ from us in their mode of worshipping the Supreme Being.

“But the dinner-bell rings: let us leave the gallery,” said Mr. Wilmot.

CHAP. IV.

“What have you found to excite your curiosity there, Susan?” said Mr. Wilmot, observing her eyes fixed upon the full-length picture of a gentleman attired in the costume of the reign of Henry the Eighth.

“I am looking, Sir,” she replied, “at the singular dress of this gentleman.”

“At no period, perhaps, of our national history,” continued Mr. Wilmot, “was extravagance in dress carried to a higher pitch, than in this and the succeeding reign. The various modes of wearing the hair, and cutting the beard, seem to have afforded much umbrage to Holinshed, who lived at this time; and he enumerates, with amusing gravity, the variety and diversity which prevailed with respect to the latter. Ear-rings of gold, stones, or pearls, were in use amongst the courtiers. ‘But never,’ he mournfully observes, ‘was it merrier with England, than when an Englishman was known abroad by his own cloth; and contented himself at home with his kersey hose, his plain slops; (or small clothes;) his coat, gown, or cloak, of brown, blue, or puke; with some pretty furniture of velvet or fur, and a doublet of sad tawny, or black velvet, or other comely silk; without such cuts or gaudy colours as are worn in these days, and never brought in but by consent of the French, who think themselves the gayest men when they have most change of jaggs, and variety of colours about them. Certainly, of all ranks,’ he continues, ‘our merchants have the least altered their attire, and are, therefore, the most to be commended; for, although what they wear is very fine and costly, yet it still represents the ancient gravity suitable for citizens and burgesses.’

“It was very unusual to see any young men above the age of eighteen or twenty, without a dagger either by his side, or at his back; and even burgesses and aged magistrates, whose occupations are generally supposed to be peaceful, were also thus armed. The nobility commonly wore swords or rapiers with their daggers, as did also every servant following his master. Others carried two daggers, or two rapiers in a sheath, always about them; and, when quarrels arose, the consequences were frequently dreadful. These warlike implements were much longer than those used in any other country. In travelling, some carried with them, on their shoulders, staves, some of which were twelve or thirteen feet long, besides the pike of twelve inches; but I must tell you, that these were mostly suspicious characters.

“To such an excess had this love of dress arisen in the reign of Elizabeth, that it was thought necessary to check it by a proclamation, issued in October, 1559. It was, indeed, felt as a serious evil at this period, when the manufactures of England were in so rude a state, that almost every article for the use of the higher classes, was imported from Flanders, France, or Italy, in exchange for the raw commodities of the country, or, perhaps, for money.

“The invectives of divines have placed upon lasting records some transient follies, which might otherwise have sunk into oblivion; and the sermon of bishop Pilkington, a warm polemic of this time, may be quoted as a kind of commentary on the proclamation. He reproves ‘fine-fingered rufflers, with their sable about their necks, corked slippers, trimmed buskins, and warm mittens. These tender Parnels,’ he says, ‘must have one gown for the day, another for the night; one long, another short; one for winter, another for summer; one furred through, another but faced; one for the workday, another for the holiday; one of this colour, another of that; one of cloth, another of silk and damask: change of apparel, one afore dinner, another after; one of Spanish fashion, another of Turkey; and, to be brief, never content with enough, but always devising new fashions and strange.”

‘Yea, a ruffian will have more in his ruff and his hose, than he should spend in a year. He, which ought to go in a russet coat, spends as much on apparel for him and his wife, as his father would have kept a good house with.”

“Miss Aikin conjectures, that the costly furs here mentioned, had probably become fashionable, since a direct intercourse had been opened, in Henry the Eighth’s reign, with Russia; from which country ambassadors had arrived, whose barbaric splendours had astonished the eyes of the good people of London. The affectation of wearing, in turns, the costume of all nations in Europe, with which the queen herself was not a little infected, may be traced partly to the practice of importing articles of dress from those nations, and that of employing foreign tailors in preference to native ones; and partly to the taste for travelling, which, since the revival of letters, had become laudably prevalent among the young nobility and gentry of England.

“In the reign of Elizabeth, also, we find an order of the lord mayor and common council, regulating the dress of apprentices, and directing that they shall not presume to wear any apparel than that received from their masters. It was enacted, that ‘apprentices shall wear no hat, but a woollen cap: they shall not wear ruffles, cuffs, loose collars, nor any thing more than a ruff at the collar, and that not more than a yard and a half long. They must wear no doublets but what are made of canvass, fustian, sackcloth, English leather, or woollen, without any gold, silver, or silk trimmings. They must wear hose of cloth and kersey; but of no other colour than white, blue, or russet. Their breeches must be of the same materials as their doublets, and neither stitched, laced, nor bordered. Their upper coat must be of cloth or leather, without stitching, pinking, edging, or silk trimming. They shall wear no other surtout than a cloth gown or cloak, lined or faced with cotton, cloth, or baize, with a plain, round, fixed collar. No pumps, shoes, or slippers, to be allowed them, but of English leather, without being pinked, edged, or stitched. No girdles or garters to be worn, but what are made of crewel, woollen, thread, or leather. They must wear neither sword nor dagger; but a knife only. All jewels, rings, gold, silver, or silk, are forbidden in any part of their dress. Neither shall they frequent any dancing, fencing, or musical schools, under severe penalties; one of which was, to be publicly whipped at the hall of their company.’”

“During the reign of Henry the Eighth, luxury seems to have increased rapidly,” remarked Mrs. Spencer. “The furniture of the houses, the style of living, and even gardening, appear alike to have undergone a progressive improvement.”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Wilmot: “we find that, about this time, the walls of the houses were either hung with tapestry, arras work, or painted cloths, on which were represented birds, beasts, herbs, &c. Wainscotting with oak, or wood imported from the east, began now to be generally used, and rendered the rooms much more comfortable than formerly. Stoves were not much used, though they began to appear in the houses of the nobility and the wealthy citizens.

“But expensive furniture was most prevalent. ‘Not only,’ says Holinshed, ‘is it not rare to see abundance of arras, rich hangings of tapestry, silver vessels, and such other plate as would furnish several cupboards, to the sum oftentimes of a thousand or two thousand pounds at the least; but the rest of the house was proportionably furnished. In the abodes of knights, gentlemen, merchants, and some other wealthy citizens, it is not unusual to behold a great profusion of tapestry, Turkish work, pewter, brass, fine linen, and costly cupboards of plate, worth five or six hundred or a thousand pounds.’ But the tide of luxury invaded even the lower orders. ‘The inferior artificers, and main farmers, who, by virtue of their old, not of their new leases, (says the chronicler,) learned to garnish also their cupboards with plate, their joined beds with tapestry and silk hangings, and their tables with carpets and fine linen. There are old men yet dwelling in the village where I remain,’ says Holinshed, ‘which have noted three things to be marvellously altered in England, within their sound remembrance; and other three things too, too much increased. One is the multitude of chimneys lately erected: whereas, in their young days, there were not above two or three, if so many, in most up-landish towns of the realms, (the religious houses, and manor places of their lords always excepted, and, peradventure, some great personages,) but each one made his fire against a reredosse in the hall, where he dined and dressed his meat. The second, is the great (although not general) amendment of lodging; for, said they, our fathers, yea, and we also ourselves, have lain full oft on straw pallets, or rough mats, covered only with a sheet or coverlets, made of dagswain[^[3]] or hop-harlots[^[4]]; and a good round log under their heads, instead of a bolster and pillow. If our forefathers had, within seven years after their marriage, purchased a mattress or flock-bed, and added thereto a sack of chaff to rest his head upon, he considered himself to be as well lodged as the lord of the town, who, probably, himself, seldom lay on a bed of down, or whole feathers; so contented were they with simple fare. Indeed, even now[^[5]], in some parts of Bedfordshire, and elsewhere farther in the south, the same plans are pretty much pursued. Pillows were only for an indulgence to the sick. As for servants, if they had any sheet above them, it was well; for rarely had they any thing under their bodies, to protect them from the pricking straws, which often found their way through the canvass of the pallet. The third thing they speak of, is the exchange of vessels; as pewter for treen[^[6]] platters, and silver or tin spoons, for wooden ones; for so common were all sorts of treen ware in old times, that a person could hardly find four pieces of pewter, including the salt-cellar, in a good farmer’s house; and yet, in spite of this frugality, they were scarcely able to live, and pay their rents, without selling a cow, or a horse, or more, although they paid but four pounds, at the uttermost, by the year.’

[3]. A rough, coarse mantle.

[4]. Probably hop-sacking.

[5]. Henry the Eighth’s reign.

[6]. Wooden and earthen dishes.

“It is impossible not to smile at Holinshed’s enumeration of the evils attendant upon the introduction of chimneys. Colds, catarrhs, &c. are included; whilst he gravely assures us, that whilst they had only reredosses, their heads were free from pain. Smoke being considered not only a sufficient hardener of the timber in the house, but the best medicine to keep the good man and his family from the quack, or catarrhs, which were then but little known.”

Mrs. Spencer smilingly remarked, that she supposed our forefathers would willingly have acquiesced in the observation, that, “Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise.” “But,” she added, “I believe they took their meals at much earlier hours than are at present in fashion.”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Wilmot: “the nobility and gentry dined at eleven o’clock before noon, and supped at five, or between five and six o’clock in the evening. The merchants seldom dined or supped before twelve at noon, or six at night, especially in London. The husbandmen dined at high noon, and supped at seven or eight; but out of term, in our universities, the scholars dined at ten.

“Great silence was observed at the tables of the ‘honourable and wise;’ and it seems that a curious custom prevailed amongst artificers and husbandmen, of each guest bringing his own dish, or so many with him, as his wife and he could agree upon.

“Abundance and unbounded liberality, prevailed at the entertainments of the great. The cooks, at this period, seem to have been mostly Frenchmen, or strangers. Besides the usual meats, and the delicacies that the season afforded, red deer is particularly enumerated. It was usual to reserve the beginning of every dish for the greatest personage sitting at table, to whom it was handed up by the waiters, as order required; from whom it again descended to the lower end, so that every guest tasted of it. Unexpected and numerous visitors flocked to the mansions of the nobility and gentry, and rendered it necessary not only to retain a large retinue of servants, but a very ample supply of provisions.

“The chief part of the food was brought in before them, chiefly on silver vessels, if they were of the degree of barons, bishops, and upwards, and placed on their tables. What was left, was sent down to their serving-men and waiters; and their reversion was bestowed upon the poor, who waited in flocks at their gates to receive the bounty.

“A daily allowance was appointed for their halls, where the chief officers and household servants, (for all were not permitted by custom to sit with their lord,) with such inferior guests as were not high enough to associate with the nobleman himself, took their meals.

“In the houses of the nobles, pots, goblets, jugs of silver, with Venice glasses of all shapes, were commonly in use. In inferior habitations, ‘pots of earth, of various colours and moulds, many of them garnished with silver, were in requisition; and pewter supplied the place of more costly utensils, amongst the still lower ranks. When any one had drank, he made the cup clean by pouring out what remained, and restoring the vessel to the cupboard again. Gentlemen and merchants maintained about an equality at their tables, varying the number of dishes according to the resort of strangers; yet even these maintained an ordinary for their servants, independent of what was left by the family.’ Venison appears to have been with them a favourite, and by no means rare dish; and at certain feasts given by them, they appear to have rivalled the haughty barons, in the variety and sumptuousness of the dishes prepared. Butchers’ meat was rejected with disdain; and some very minute particulars have reached us, of the ornamental parts of these entertainments. Amongst them, jellies of various colours and forms are named. ‘Marchpain wrought with no small curiosity, tarts of various hues and sundry denominations, conserves of old fruits and home bred, suckets, sugar-bread, ginger-bread florentines, with several outlandish confections, altogether seasoned with sugar,’ seem to have borne a conspicuous part.

“We are as ignorant of the excellence of some of these highly-extolled dishes,” said Mr. Wilmot, as he paused for a few moments, “as our ancestors were of many of those fruits and vegetables, which are now familiar to the lowest class. I allude to melons, pompions, gourds, cucumbers, radishes, skirrets, parsnips, turnips, carrots, cabbages, and all kinds of salad herbs. These, from the time of Henry the Fourth, to the latter end of Henry the Seventh, and beginning of Henry the Eighth’s reign, were not only unknown, but were considered as food suitable alone for hogs and other animals. After this period, they not only became plentiful among the higher orders, who were in the habit of sending abroad yearly for new seeds, but found their way commonly to the inferior classes.

“At the same era, gardening received a new impulse; and the ingenuity and care of the florist, is spoken of in terms of high eulogium, together with some little appearance of incredulity, as relates to the practicability of the theories advanced; theories which are now comprehended by the most humble individual. It may also surprise you to learn, that the culture of medicinal herbs formed a very important and useful branch of the gardener’s calendar, at this time; and noblemen and gentlemen devoted to them large plots of ground, and mingled them with the flowers which adorned their parterres.

“The varieties of fruit which were likewise introduced at this epoch, are mentioned with a tone of exultation, that may cause a similar feeling of surprise on your part, my little cousins,” said Mr. Wilmot, “accustomed as you are to regard them as the natural produce of autumn.

“‘Delicate apples, plums, pears, walnuts, and filberts,’ are included in this catalogue; whilst apricots, peaches, almonds, and figs, are spoken of as strange fruit, introduced within the last forty years of the author’s account, and cultivated only in the orchards of the nobility.”

“The word comfortable,” said Mrs. Spencer, “understood in no other country so well as in England, could not, I think, have been applied, as characteristic of the mode of living practised by our ancestors.”

“Not according to our modern ideas,” answered Mr. Wilmot; “but I will relate a few more anecdotes, descriptive of ancient customs and manners.

“Previous to the time of Elizabeth, instead of glass, the windows of houses in the country were composed either of lattice made of wicker, or of spars of oak placed in chequer; but in the reign of the ‘maiden queen,’ glass becoming cheaper, this mode of admitting light fell into disuse.”

“I do not wonder that they were glad to exchange,” said Susan: “it must have rendered the houses cold and comfortless.”

“But you forget,” said Mr. Wilmot, “they must have formed nice avenues for the smoke to escape, when there were not any chimneys. But I have omitted to mention a curious fashion, which took its rise from some learned divine, previous to the reign of Henry the Fourth, and which continued long after that of the sixth Henry. It was no other than that of taking away the father’s surname, however honourable or ancient, and substituting that of the town in which the individual was born. Thus, Richard Nottingham, a celebrated friar, was named from an island where he was born, near Gloucester. William Barton, a famous doctor, and chancellor of Oxford in Richard the Second’s reign, from Barton in Lincolnshire. Walter Disse, of Disse in Suffolk, a Carmelite friar, and confessor to the duke and duchess of Lancaster, in Henry the Fourth’s reign. Richard Hampoole, from a town in Yorkshire, a zealous doctor, and afterwards a virtuous hermit, in Henry the Sixth’s days. Hundreds of others followed this example, among whom may be enumerated William Wainfleet, bishop of Winchester, lord chancellor of England, and founder of Magdalen College, Oxford. His original name was Paten; but he altered it to the name of the town of which he was a native. To this whimsical notion may be traced many of our present surnames, such as German, or Germin, which was assumed out of affection to Germany, the country from which their forefathers came. Jute, Jud, and Chute, from the tribe of Judes, one of the German nations who came over with Hengist and Horsa; and Calthrop, Caltrap, and Caltrop, were all but for Caldthorp, signifying a cold town. Paten, Patten, or Patent, is likewise derived from the Saxon word Pate, the sole of the foot, and therefrom Patan, signifying flat-footed.

“Before the Reformation, there were very few free-schools in England. Latin was generally taught to the youths at the monasteries. In the nunneries were taught needle-work, confectionery, surgery, and physic, (surgeons and apothecaries being then very rare,) writing, drawing, &c.

“Before the civil wars, in gentlemen’s houses, at Christmas, the first dish that was brought to table, was a boar’s head with a lemon in its mouth. The first dish that was brought to table on Easter-day, was a red herring, riding away on horseback; that is, a herring served up by the cook in a corn-salad, to look like a man on horseback. A gammon of bacon was eaten at Easter, to show the abhorrence of Judaism, at that solemn commemoration of our Lord’s resurrection.

“In 1486, the reign of Henry the Seventh, a certain number of archers, and other strong, active persons, were constituted by this monarch yeomen of the guard, and were in daily attendance upon his person. This was the first English monarch that instituted a bodyguard; and it was generally thought that he took his precedent from France.

“In 1568, noblemen’s and gentlemen’s coats were made in the same fashion as those of yeomen of the guard; and in 1678, the benchers of the inns of Court still maintained that fashion in the making of their gowns.

“The Normans brought with them civility into England. In those days, upon any occasion of bustle of business, great lords sounded their trumpets, and summoned all those that they held under them. Sir Walter Long, of Draycott, kept a trumpeter, and rode with thirty servants and retainers; from whence took the rise of the sheriff’s trumpets.

“Gentlemen carried prodigious fans, with very long handles: with these their daughters were often corrected. The lord chief justice, Sir Edward Coke, rode the circuit with a fan of this description: the earl of Manchester also used a fan; and both fathers and mothers slashed their daughters with them, when they were grown up women. At Oxford and Cambridge, the rod was frequently used by the tutors and deans; and Dr. Potter, of Trinity College, in the year 1669, or thereabouts, whipped his pupil who had a sword by his side.

“The conversation and habits of these times were starched and formal: gravity often passed for wisdom, and quibbles for wit, even in clergymen’s sermons. The gentry and citizens had little learning of any kind; and their way of bringing up their children was suitable to all the rest. They were as severe as schoolmasters to them, and the schoolmasters were as severe as governors of houses of correction. The child, consequently, dreaded the sight of his parents. Gentlemen of thirty and forty years of age, stood like mutes and bare-headed before them; and the daughters, when grown young women, stood at the cupboard-side, during the whole time of the proud mother’s visit, unless, as the fashion then was, leave was requested that a cushion might be given them to kneel upon, when they had done sufficient penance by standing, and which was brought them by a serving-man.

“Learning seems to have advanced much during Elizabeth’s reign. ‘It was rare to find a courtier unacquainted with any language but his own. The ladies studied Greek, Latin, French, Spanish, and Italian. The more elderly among them exercised themselves, some with the needle, some with caul-work, (probably netting,) divers in spinning silk; some in continual reading, either of the Holy Scriptures, or of histories either of their own or foreign countries; divers in writing volumes of their own, or translating the works of others into Latin or English: whilst the younger ones, in the meantime, applied to their lutes, citharmes, pricksong, and all kinds of music. Many of the more ancient, were also skilful in surgery and distillation of waters, besides sundry artificial practices pertaining to the ornature and commendation of their bodies. This,’ adds our author, ‘I will generally say of them all, that, as each of them are cunning in something whereby they keep themselves occupied in the court; there is, in manner, none of them, but when they be at home, can help to supply the ordinary want of the kitchen, with a number of delicate dishes of their own contriving: wherein the portingal is their chief counsellor, as some of them are most commonly with the clerk of the kitchen, &c.’

“‘Every office at court,’ says the same author, (Holinshed,) ‘had a Bible, or the book of the Acts and Monuments of the Church of England, or both; besides some histories and chronicles lying therein, for the exercise of such as come into the same.’”

Mrs. Spencer smiled and said, that the praise bestowed upon the ladies of Elizabeth’s reign, was no small commendation. Learned, accomplished, and domestic, they seemed the very acmé of excellence.

The bell now announced company. Susan and Ann quitted the gallery with reluctance; and not before they had obtained a promise from Mr. Wilmot, that they should visit it on the following day.

CHAP. V.

“Perhaps you would have the kindness, Sir,” said Mrs. Spencer, as she sat at work with her daughters, “to resume the conversation, which was interrupted this morning, and in which we were much interested. I observed written, under a painting in the gallery, ‘Funeral of Henry the Seventh;’ and as it was previous to the reformation, and consequently attended with some ceremonies fallen into disuse in a Protestant realm, I have no doubt we should be much interested in the recital.”

Mr. Wilmot waited not for a second request, but began as follows:

“After all things necessary for the interment and funeral pomp of the late king were sumptuously prepared and done, the corpse of the deceased was brought out of his privy-chamber, where it had rested three days; and every day had three dirges, and masses sung by a mitred prelate.

Page 83.
Page 87.

“From thence it was conveyed into the hall, where it also remained three days, and where a similar service was performed: the same ceremony was observed, for the like space of time, when it was moved into the chapel. In each of these places was a hearse of wax, garnished with banners, attended by nine mourners, who daily made their offerings. Every place where the procession stopped, was hung with black.

“Upon Wednesday, the ninth of May, the corpse was put into a chariot, covered with black cloth of gold, drawn with five coursers, covered with black velvet, garnished with cushions of fine gold; and over the corpse was an image or representation of the late king, apparelled in his rich robes of state, the crown on his head, and the ball and sceptre in his hands, laid on cushions of gold. The chariot was ornamented with banners, scutcheons, and arms, descriptive of the monarch’s titles, dominions, and genealogies.

“The king’s chaplain, and a number of prelates, led the way, praying. Then came the king’s servants in black, followed by the chariot, attended by nine mourners, and lighted by torches, amounting to the number of six hundred, which were carried on either side. In this order they proceeded from Richmond to St. George’s Fields. Here they were met by all the religious men, priests, clerks, &c. within and without the city, who took the lead. The mayor and his brethren, with many of the common council, met the corpse at London Bridge, and escorted it through the city.

“Long torches, placed on each side of the street, with young children standing on stalls, bearing tapers, lent to this funeral pomp additional solemnity; illuminating, with their flickering beams, the remains of him who had paid the debt of mortality, common alike to potentates and subjects.

“Arrived at St. Paul’s, the body was taken out, and conveyed into the choir, where it was placed under a hearse of wax, garnished as before; whilst a solemn dirge was sung, and a sermon preached on the occasion, by the bishop of Rochester.

“Here it rested for the night, and on the following day was removed towards Westminster; Sir Edward Howard bearing the king’s banner, on a courser, trapped in the arms of the deceased monarch. In Westminster was a curious hearse, composed of nine ‘principals[^[7]], all full of lights,’ which were lighted at the coming of the corpse.

[7]. Principals, in architecture, are corner-posts, which are fixed into the ground-plates below, and into the roof.

“Six lords bore the coffin from the chariot, and placed it under the hearse, the image lying on the cushion, on a large pall of gold. The hearse was double-railed. Within the first rail sat the mourners; and within the second partition stood knights, bearing banners of saints; and without the same stood officers of arms.

“When the mourners were placed in order, garter king-at-arms cried, ‘For the soul of the noble prince, king Henry the Seventh, lately king of this realm;’ and immediately the choir began ‘plecabo,’ and a dirge was sung; which being finished, the mourners departed, and, after taking refreshment, reposed for the night.

“On the next day three masses were solemnly sung by three bishops: at the last was offered the king’s banner, courser, and coat-of-arms, his sword, target, and helm. At the conclusion the mourners made their offerings of rich palls of cloth of gold, and bauderkin, (or cloth of gold, with figures embroidered in silk:) ‘Libera me’ was then sung, and the body committed to the earth.

“At this part of the ceremony the king’s treasurer, lord steward, chamberlain, and comptroller of the household, broke their staves and cast them into the grave; garter king-at-arms exclaiming, with a loud voice, ‘Vive le roi Henri le huitième, roi d’Angleterre et de France, sire d’Irlande.’

“The obsequies ended, the party returned to the palace, where a sumptuous feast was provided for them.”

“What a happiness it is,” said Mrs. Spencer, “that we are no longer under the burdensome ceremonies of popery—that we are not required to sing dirges for the dead, nor pay for masses, to deliver their souls from an ideal purgatory.”

“It is so,” replied Mr. Wilmot. “The ensuing coronation,” he continued, “of Henry the Eighth and Katherine, was conducted with circumstances of extraordinary pomp; but it is not my intention to enter into a minute description of it; and I shall only relate to you a few of the pageants that were exhibited on the occasion, and which mark the manners of the age. Amongst others, was a park, artificially constructed, with pales of white and green, wherein were fallow deer; and, in the park, trees, bushes, and ferns, very curiously constructed. The deer were hunted in the presence of the queen and court, and afterwards presented to them. Another device was a palace, in which was a curious fountain, and over it a castle, surmounted with a crown imperial, with battlements of roses and pomegranates, gilded; whilst, under and about the said castle, ran a vine, the grapes and leaves whereof were gilded with fine gold, with white and green lozenges strewed about the castle; and, in every lozenge, either a rose or a pomegranate, and a sheaf or arrows; or else the letters H. and K. in gold, with certain arches and turrets gilded, to support the same castle; whilst, from the mouths of certain beasts, ran white, red, and claret wine.

“Henry the Eighth was remarkably expert at the games then in practice; such as bearing off the ring, wrestling, casting the bar, &c. Shooting, singing, dancing, and music, seem likewise frequently to have engaged him; and it will afford you some idea of the mixture of simplicity and ostentation of the age, when I tell you, that, in the second year of his reign, he rose early on May-day, to gather hawthorn and green boughs. Richly dressed himself, and, accompanied by his knights, squires, yeomen, and guard, arrayed in white satin and sarcenet, with bows and arrows, he went shooting into the wood; and returned again to court, every man wearing a green bough in his cap. These rural festivities seem often to have been repeated, and accompanied with more or less splendour. Nor could the royal party have had far to ride, ere they could procure those symbols of the beautiful month they were about to commemorate. For it was only late in the preceding reign, that the gardens, which had been continued, time out of mind, without Moorgate, now called Moorfields, were destroyed, and a plain field made of them, for archers to shoot in. And a few years after the excursion of the youthful monarch, which I have just mentioned, the citizens of London, disliking the enclosures of the common fields about Islington, Shoreditch, Hoxton, and other places near the city, whereby they could not be suffered to exercise their bows, nor other popular games, as they had before been accustomed to, assembled themselves one morning, and went with spades and shovels into the said fields, and there worked so diligently, that all the hedges about town were cast down, and the ditches filled.”

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“Another May morning was celebrated with far more variety than that before mentioned. The court lying at Greenwich, the royal party rode out for an airing. Passing by Shooter’s-hill, they observed a company of yeomen, amounting to about two hundred, clad in green, with hoods of the same colour. One of them, calling himself Robin Hood, stepped forwards, and addressing the king, begged permission to shoot before the sovereign. The request being of course granted, he whistled, and instantly the whole band discharged their arrows at once. A second signal called forth a similar proof of skill. These arrows, it seems, whistled as they flew, in consequence of some ingenious contrivance in the head; and the noise was so singular and great, that the illustrious spectators, and their train, expressed both astonishment and delight.

“Robin Hood then requested the company of the distinguished party into the green wood, that they might see how outlaws fared. And the horns were blown, until they came to a wood under Shooter’s-hill, where they found an arbour, composed of boughs, with a hall, a great and an inner chamber, very well made, and covered with flowers and sweet herbs. Robin Hood then addressed the king in these words: ‘Sir, outlaws’ breakfast is venison, and therefore you must be content with such fare as we use.’ Upon which Henry and his consort seated themselves, and were served with venison and wine, to their mutual gratification.

“On their return they were met by two ladies, in a rich chariot, drawn by five horses: a lady was seated on each steed, and they bore on their heads inscriptions, allegorically representing the peculiar attributes of the season; whilst lady May and lady Flora, splendidly attired, sat in the carriage, saluting the king with songs, until he arrived at Greenwich. A great concourse of people were assembled to view this celebration of the day, and appear to have entered fully into the amusement.”

“There is something extremely interesting,” said Mrs. Spencer, “in the sovereign of a great people thus affording himself and his subjects a simple and even elegant recreation.”

“Nor was Christmas a season of less festivity,” continued Mr. Wilmot. “Warlike knights and ‘peerless dames,’ issuing from castles, erected in the royal halls, with sham fights, music, and dancing, seem to have constituted a prominent feature of entertainment. One of these pageants, exhibited at Greenwich, on Twelfth-night, was an artificial garden, called the garden of ‘Esperance.’ This garden was towered at every corner, and railed with gilt rails; whilst the banks were adorned with artificial flowers, composed of silver and gold, with green satin leaves. In the midst of the garden stood a pillar of antique work of gold, set with pearls and stones; and on the top of this pillar was an arch, crowned with gold, in which was placed a bush of white and red roses, and a bush of pomegranates, both made of silk and gold. Six knights, with an equal number of ladies, descended from this fanciful parterre, who, after dancing many dances, stepped up again into it, and were wheeled out of the room. The whole, as usual, concluded with a banquet.

“The birth of Henry’s first son, who died in his infancy, was celebrated with even more than usual gaiety. But it would be fatiguing, both to you and to me, were I to relate to you the almost endless devices enumerated; though, as you have probably heard of the ancient jousts, or combats on horseback, which were a favourite diversion with our forefathers, I shall give you an account of one, in order that you may be able to form some idea of this species of recreation.

“On this occasion it commenced with a forest, in which were interspersed rocks, hills, and dales, with a variety of trees and flowers, hawthorn, fern, and grass, composed of green velvet, damask, satin, and sarcenet, of a variety of colours. Within the wood were seen six foresters, attired in green, and by their sides lay a number of spears. In the middle stood a golden castle, before the gate of which was a gentleman, gaily dressed, wreathing a garland of roses for the prize. This pageant appeared to be drawn by a lion and an antelope. The lion was covered with damask gold, and the antelope wrought all over with silver damask, his tusks and horns gilt.

“These animals were led by men, attired so as to represent wild men, or, as they were styled, ‘woodhouses:’ their heads, faces, hands, legs, and whole body being covered with green flossed silk. On either side of the lion and unicorn, sat a lady in splendid attire; whilst the beasts were tied to the car with huge golden chains. When the pageant rested before the queen, the foresters blew their horns, and the device opening, disclosed four knights completely armed, bearing magnificent plumes on their heads, and spears in their hands; the housing of their horses, on which were embroidered their names, being composed of gold. To combat with these, a swell of trumpets and drums announced on the field the entrance of the earl of Essex and the lord Thomas Howard, with their friends, and a gallant train, well armed; the trappings and bases of their horses being composed of crimson satin, embroidered with branches of pomegranates of gold and posies. After the usual display of feats of address and skill, the jousts, for that day, were closed.

“On the morrow, after dinner, they were re-renewed, with this difference in their attire, that the noblemen and their hordes wore cloth of gold and russet tinsel: the knights, cloth of gold and russet velvet: the gentlemen on foot, russet satin and yellow; and the yeomen, russet damask and yellow; all of them garnished with scarlet hose and yellow caps.

“The entrance of the king, under a pavilion of cloth of gold and purple velvet, sumptuously embroidered, with a superb plume glittering with spangles of gold, and his three aids or supporters, each under a pavilion of crimson and purple damask, studded with their sovereign’s initials in gold, gave an additional splendour to this day’s entertainments.

“Gentlemen and yeomen, to the number of one hundred and sixty-eight, attired in their peculiar colours, and twelve children on horseback, each differing from the other, but all richly dressed, were ranked on this side of the lists. The opposite party were preceded by Sir Charles Brandon, habited as a recluse, in a long robe of russet satin, and unattended by music, bearing a petition to the queen, to licence him to run in her presence. Assent was, of course, granted; when he was instantly armed cap-à-piè[^[8]], and, crossing the tilt-yard at full gallop, was received by a company in russet satin, who awaited him.

[8]. Cap-à-piè, from head to foot.

“Alone came young Henry Guildford; himself and horse clad in his squire’s robe of russet cloth of gold, and cloth of silver, closed in a device or pageant, made like a castle or a turret, wrought of russet Florence satin sarcenet, set out in gold, with his word or posie. He also demanded leave of the queen to run; which being granted, he took his place at the tilt end. A number of his servants, dressed in his colours, russet, satin, and white, with hose of like colour, then made their appearance, and followed their master.

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“The marquis of Dorset, and Sir Thomas Bullen, clothed as pilgrims, from St. James’s, in tabards of black velvet, with palmers’ hats on their helmets, and with long Jacob’s staves in their hands, followed. Their horses’ trappings were of black velvet; and these, together with their own dresses, were strewed with scallop-shells. Their servants also wore black satin, with scallop-shells of gold on their breasts.

“They were, soon afterwards, succeeded by lord Henry Buckingham, earl of Wiltshire, himself and his horse apparelled in cloth of silver, embroidered with his posy or word, and arrows of gold, in a posy, called, “La maison de refuge,” made of crimson damask, bordered with roses and arrows of gold; on the top, a greyhound of silver, bearing a pomegranate of gold, the branches whereof were so large, that they overspread the whole pageant. Sir Giles Capell, Sir Rowland, with many other knights richly armed and accoutred, entered also on this side of the lists.

“When all was ready, the trumpets sounded a flourish, and the combatants rushed together. Adroitness and skill in unlacing the antagonist’s helmet, and in unhorsing him, seem to have formed a prominent part of these martial exercises, in which the king and his aids were, as usual, distinguished, and to whom, on this occasion, the prize was adjudged.

“I shall close this account with the description of one more pageant, running upon wheels, which was introduced at this period, and which, to use the words of Holinshed, was ‘curiously made, and pleasant to behold, being solemn and rich; for every post thereof was covered with friezed gold, wherein were trees of hawthorn, eglantine, roses, vines, and other pleasant flowers of divers colours, with gilly-flowers, and other herbs, all made of satin, damask, silver, and gold, according as the natural trees, herbs, and flowers ought to be.’

“These festivals were soon followed by the death of the young prince, who expired on the twenty-second of February, at Richmond, and was buried at Westminster.”

“Nothing,” said Mrs. Spencer, “marks more distinctly the progress of national taste, than its public amusements. England, at the time you have been speaking of, was gradually emerging from her rusticity; and the ludicrous mixture displayed in the pageants exhibited, of refinement and grossness, prove that the luminous era which was to follow, was but just dawning upon her. But put up your work, my dears: tea is waiting, and Mr. Wilmot appears exhausted.”

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CHAP. VI.

“This is a splendid painting, Sir,” said Mrs. Spencer, as she this morning stopped to admire a picture that hung at the entrance of the gallery: “from the magnificence attending it, I should suppose it represented a royal baptism.”

“You are quite right, my dear madam,” answered Mr. Wilmot. “It is the christening of no less a personage than our illustrious queen Elizabeth; and, as a singular chain of events befel most of the individuals present at it, I think I cannot commence this day’s entertainment with a more interesting relation.

“At one o’clock in the afternoon, the lord mayor, Sir Stephen Peacock, in a gown of crimson satin, adorned with his chain, and with the aldermen in scarlet robes, ornamented with their golden collars, took boat for Greenwich, where they found many lords, knights, and gentlemen assembled. The whole way from the palace to the Friars, was strewn with green rushes, and the walls were hung with tapestry, as was the Friars’ church, in which the ceremony was performed.

“A silver font, covered with crimson satin fringed with gold, stood in the midst of the church; and round it were arranged several gentlemen, with aprons and towels round their necks. All things being arranged, the procession set forth. It began with citizens walking two and two; then gentlemen, ’squires, and chaplains; then the aldermen and the mayor alone; and, following these, the king’s council and chaplain in copes; and, lastly, barons, bishops, and earls.

“The gilt basin was carried by Henry, earl of Essex. This nobleman perished, a few years afterwards, by a fall from his horse. He was alike distinguished for his magnificence, and the part he bore in tilt and tourney. Sprung from a royal lineage, being descended from Thomas of Woodstock, youngest son of Edward the Third, his high connexion must have rendered him occasionally fearful lest they should involve him in the same fatal catastrophe with that which the duke of Buckingham had so lately suffered. But his premature death, whilst it placed him beyond the reach of caprice, left his title at the disposal of the monarch, who, much to the mortification of this illustrious family, bestowed it on his favourite, the low-bred Cromwell.

“The salt was borne by Henry, marquis of Dorset, the father of lady Jane Grey, who, after receiving the royal pardon for his share in the criminal enterprize for placing the crown on the head of his ill-fated and gentle daughter, joined the rebellion of Wyatt, and finally forfeited his life on the scaffold.

“William Courtnay, marquis of Exeter, followed, bearing the taper of virgin wax. This nobleman had the misfortune to be very nearly allied to the English throne, his mother being a daughter of Edward the Fourth. He was, at this period, highly distinguished by the king’s favour, who had even declared his intention of making him heir apparent, in preference to his own sisters, and his daughter Mary. The divorce from Catherine had, indeed, by proclaiming the latter illegitimate, rendered her incapable of succeeding to the throne. But, three years afterwards, he fell a victim to the jealousy of the fickle monarch, on a charge of corresponding with his proscribed cousin, cardinal Pole; and his honours and estates were not only forfeited, but his son, though quite a child, was immured in close custody.

“The chrism, which was very rich, being made of pearl and stone, was carried by the beautiful lady Mary Howard, daughter of the duke of Norfolk. She also furnished another illustration of the remark I commenced with; for she lived not only to witness, but, by the evidence she gave on his trial, to assist in the unjust condemnation of her illustrious brother, the earl of Surry, whose talents, and whose gallantry, still adorn the annals of English history. This lady, descended from our Saxon monarchs, Henry bestowed upon his base-born son, created duke of Richmond; an insult, which, in other reigns, the Howards would have resented as it deserved.

“The infant princess, wrapped in a mantle of purple, richly furred with ermine, was carried by one of her godmothers, the dowager duchess of Norfolk. This lady was the step-grandmother of Ann Boleyn; but the high distinction afforded, too shortly, but little cause of exultation. And equally melancholy was the termination of that closer alliance with royalty, which was formed for her, in the person of her own grand-daughter, Catherine Howard. On the discovery of this queen’s ill-conduct, the aged duchess was declared guilty of misprision of treason, and, overwhelmed with disgrace, was committed to custody; but she was afterwards released, when Catherine had expiated her follies and vices on the scaffold. Nor less exempt from trial was the other godmother at the font, the dowager marchioness of Dorset. Her grand-daughter, lady Jane Grey, perished by an ignominious death. Three of her sons shared the same fate; and the fourth died, during the reign of Elizabeth, a prisoner in the Tower, in which he had been confined, for the offence of distributing a pamphlet, asserting the title of the Suffolk line to the crown.

“The marchioness of Exeter, the other godmother at the font, not only wept over the untimely end of her husband; and her only son wasting the flower of his youth in a tedious captivity; but she herself was attainted of high treason, some time afterwards, and underwent a long and arbitrary imprisonment.

“On either hand of the duchess of Norfolk, walked the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk; the only nobles of that rank then existing in England. On every public and important occasion, both civil and military, their united names appear during the reign of Henry the Eighth; but the termination of their respective careers forms a striking contrast. The duke of Suffolk was ever regarded with the same favour, which he had gained as Charles Brandon, the jocund companion of his royal master’s youthful exercises. Nor did his marriage with the king’s sister, involve him in either troubles or misfortunes; and he did not live to witness those which overwhelmed his grand-daughter. He died in peace, sincerely lamented by his sovereign.

“Very different was the treatment which the duke of Norfolk received from the king. His high birth, and powerful connexions, created fears in Henry’s mind, for the tranquillity and safety of his son, the virtuous Edward the Sixth. The former services of his faithful and noble servant were overlooked, and sacrificed to his present alarm. With almost his last breath he decreed the death of Norfolk. But even Henry was no longer absolute: his orders were this time disobeyed, and the duke survived him. He, however, suffered a long and tedious captivity; and lived but a short time after his tardy restoration to liberty and honour, under Mary.

“One of the infant’s train-bearers, was the countess of Kent. If she were, as is probable, the widow of the second earl of that title, she must have been the daughter of the earl of Pembroke, a zealous Yorkist, who was slain fighting in the cause of Edward the Fourth.

“Thomas Boleyn, earl of Wiltshire, the proud and delighted grandfather of the princely babe, supported the train on one side. He lived to witness the cruel and disgraceful end of his son and daughter, and died long before the prosperous days of his illustrious grandchild.

“Edward Stanly, third earl of Derby, formed an exception to this train of ill-fated nobles. Educated by Wolsey, whose ward he was, he proved himself a faithful subject to four succeeding sovereigns; and, in the most disturbed times, stood firm in his unshaken loyalty. Full of years and honours, and rich in hereditary distinctions, he died, universally esteemed, in 1574.

“Four lords, three of whom met with disastrous fate, supported the canopy over the royal infant. One was her uncle, the accomplished viscount Rochford, who suffered death by the tyranny of Henry, for a crime of which he is now most fully acquitted. Another was lord Hussey, who expiated the crime of rebellion on the scaffold, a few years afterwards. The two others were brothers, of the family of the illustrious but unfortunate Howards.

“Lord William, uncle to Catherine Howard, was unjustly condemned to perpetual imprisonment and forfeiture of goods, for not exposing her misconduct; but the sentence was afterwards remitted. He lived to be eminent in the next reign, under the title of lord Howard of Effingham, and died peacefully, in a venerable age.

“The ambition of lord Thomas was the cause of his sufferings. He married the lady Margaret Douglas, niece to the king, and on the discovery of which he was committed to the Tower, where he died in close imprisonment.

“The ceremony of christening was performed by Stokely, bishop of London, attended by several abbots and bishops mitred; and the benediction was pronounced by Cranmer, that learned and distinguished prelate, whose virtues, whose weaknesses, whose general benevolence and holy faith, exhibited amidst the flames of martyrdom, have rendered him a distinguished character in the history of this eventful reign.

“At the conclusion of the ceremonies, garter king-at-arms cried aloud: ‘God, of his infinite goodness, send prosperous life and long, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth.’ The trumpets then sounded a flourish, and the party prepared to retrace their steps to the palace.

“In the return from church, the gifts of the sponsors, consisting of bowls and cups, some gilded, and others of massy gold, were carried by four persons of quality, viz: Thomas Somerset, second earl of Worcester; Thomas Ratcliff, lord Fitzwalter, afterwards earl of Sussex; and Sir John Dudley, son of the detested associate of Empson, and afterwards the notorious duke of Northumberland; whose crimes received, at length, their due recompence in that ignominious death, to which his guilty and extravagant projects had conducted so many comparatively innocent victims.”

When Mr. Wilmot had finished his narration, Mrs. Spencer remarked, that, by the untimely death of Ann Boleyn, the infant princess became a partaker of some of the trouble that involved so many of the distinguished individuals who attended this august ceremony.

“Yes,” said Mr. Wilmot; “and there are some curious extracts extant, respecting the petty mortifications she was destined to endure in childhood, whilst the subject of her legitimacy was left unsettled. Passing over these, however, I shall give the girls a short account of the pursuits that engrossed her youth, and which is taken from some writings of the celebrated Roger Ascham.

“This gentleman says: ‘The lady Elizabeth has completed her sixteenth year; and so much solidity and understanding, such courtesy united with dignity, have never been observed at so early an age. She has the most ardent love of true religion, and of the best kind of literature. The constitution of her mind is exempt from female weakness; and she is endued with a masculine power of application. No apprehension can be quicker than hers, no memory more retentive. French and Italian she speaks like English; Latin with fluency, propriety, and judgment: she also spoke Greek with me frequently, willingly, and moderately well. Nothing can be more elegant than her handwriting, whether in the Greek or Roman characters. In music she is very skilful, but does not greatly delight.

“‘With respect to personal decorations, she greatly prefers a simple elegance to show and splendour; so despising the outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing gold, that, in her whole manner of life, she greatly prefers Hippolyta than Phædra.

“‘She read with me almost the whole of Cicero, and a great part of Livy: from these two writers, her knowledge of the Latin language has been exclusively derived. The beginning of the day was almost always devoted by her to the New Testament, in Greek; after which, she read select orations of Isocrates, and the tragedies of Sophocles. For her religious instruction, she drew first from the fountains of Scripture, and afterwards from St. Cyprian, the common-places of Melancthon, and similar works, which contain pure doctrine in simple language.’”

Mrs. Spencer remarked, that Ascham’s account of Elizabeth’s simplicity in dress was singular, when contrasted with the love of magnificence and show, which she displayed in after life.

“And yet,” replied Mr. Wilmot, “his testimony is corroborated by that of Dr. Elmer, or Aylmer, who was tutor to lady Jane Grey and her sisters, and became, subsequently, during Elizabeth’s reign, bishop of London. He thus draws her character, when young, in a work entitled, ‘A Harbour for faithful Subjects.’

“‘The king left her rich clothes and jewels; and I know it to be true, that, in seven years after her father’s death, she never, in all that time, looked upon that rich attire and precious jewels, but once, and that against her will. And that there never came gold or stone on her head, till her sister forced her to lay off her former soberness, and bear her company in her glittering gayness. And then she so wore it, as every man might see that her body carried that which her heart disliked. I am sure that her maidenly apparel, in king Edward’s time, made the noblemen’s wives and daughters to be ashamed to be dressed and painted like peacocks; being more moved with her most virtuous example, than with all that Peter or Paul wrote on the subject. Yea, this I know, that a great man’s daughter, lady Jane Grey, receiving from lady Mary, before she was queen, good apparel of tinsel, cloth of gold, and velvet, laid on with parchment lace of gold, when she saw it, said: ‘What shall I do with it?’ ‘Marry!’ said a gentlewoman, ‘wear it.’ ‘Nay,’ quoth she, ‘that were a shame to follow my lady Mary, against God’s word.’ And when all the ladies, at the coming of the Scots queen dowager, Mary of Guise, (she who visited England in Edward’s time,) went with their hair frownsed, curled, and double curled, she altered nothing, but kept her old-maidenly shamefacedness.’

“Whatever Elizabeth’s subsequent taste in dress might have been, it is evident, that at this period she strictly conformed to the rigid turn of sentiment which prevailed in young Edward’s reign. Miss Aikin tells us, that there is a print, from the portrait of her when young, in which the hair is without a single ornament, and the whole dress remarkably plain.

“But I must leave this interesting part of Elizabeth’s character, and proceed to the time when the insurrection by Wyatt, of which I have formerly spoken, was made a pretext for confining her person within the Tower.

“Three of the queen’s council were dispatched to Ashbridge, to summon her to London; and with such rigour did they execute their commission, that, although on their arrival late at night, they found her confined to her bed with illness, they not only insisted upon seeing her at this time, but, ere the lady to whom they had given their message could deliver it, they rudely burst into the room of the princess, and informed her, that, ‘alive or dead,’ they must carry her with them.