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would be better if I swore on your translation, “After supper she called for her ladies, and which I disbelieve?

asking for a cup of wine, drank to them all, beg“She then entreated to be allowed the services ging them to pledge her; which they did on of her priest and almoner, who was in the cas- their knees, mingling their tears in the cup, and tle, but had not been permitted to see her since asking her forgiveness if they had ever offended her removal from Chariley. He would assist her. This she readily gave them, bidding them her, she said, in her preparations for death, and farewell with much tenderness, entreating in her adıninister that spiritual consolation, which it turn their pardon, and solemnly enjoining them would be sinful to receive from any one of a dif- to continue firm in their religion, and forget all ferent faith. To the disgrace of the noblemen, their little jealousies, living in peace and love the request was refused ; nor was this to be ar- with each other. It would be easier to do so tributed to any cruelty in Elizabeth, who had now, she added, since Nau, who had been so given no instructions upon the subject; but to busy in creating dissensions, was no longer with the intolerant bigotry of the Earl of Kent, who, them. This was the only subject on which she in a long theological discourse, atiempted to con- felt and expressed herself with something like vert her to his own opinions; offering her, in the keenness; repeating more than once, that he place of her confessor, the services of the Pro- was the cause of her death, but adding that she testant Dean of Peterborough, Dr. Fletcher, forgave him. She next examined her wardrobe, whom they had brought with them. Mary ex- and selected various dresses as presents to her pressed her astonishment at this last unexpected servants, delivering them at the moment, with stroke of cruelty; but bore it meekly, as she had some kind expression to each. She then wrote done all the rest, although she peremptorily de- to her almoner, lamenting that the cruelty of her clined all assistance from the dean. She then enemies had refused her the consolation of his inquired what time she should die; and the earls presence with her in her last moments, imploring having answered "Tomorrow, at eight in the him to watch and pray with her that night, and morning,' made their obeisance, and left the to send her his absolution. After this she made room. On their departure she called her wo- her will; and lastly, wrote to the King of France. men, and bade them hasten supper. that she By this time it was two in the morning, and findmight have time to arrange her affairs. No ing herself fatigued, she lay down, having first thing could be more natural, or rather playful, washed her feet, whilst her women watched and than her manner at this moment. Come, read at her bedside. They observed that, come,' said she, “Jane Kennedy, cease weeping, though quite still and tranquil, she was not and be busy. Did I not warn you, my children, asleep, her lips moving, as il engaged in secret that it would come to this ? and now, blessed be prayer. It was her custom to have her women God! it has come; and fear and sorrow are at read to her at night a portion of the 'Lives of an end. Weep not, then, nor lament, but rejoice the Saints,' a book she loved much; and this rather that you see your poor mistress so near last night she would not omit it, but made Jane the end of all her troubles. Dry your eyes, then, Kennedy choose a portion, for their usual devoand let us pray together."

tions. She selected the life entitled the Good - Her men-servants, who were in tears, then Thief, which treats of that beautiful and affectleft the room, and Mary passed some time in de- ing example of dying faith and divine compasvotion with her ladies. After which she occu- sion. Alas!' said Mary, ' he was indeed a very pied herself in counting the money which still great sinner, but not so great as I am. May my remained in her cabinet; dividing it into sepa. Saviour, in memory of His Passion, have mercy rate sums, which she intended for her servants; on me, as He had on him, at the hour of death.' and then putting each sum into a little purse At this moment she recollected that she would with a slip of paper, on which she wrote, with require a handkerchief to bind her eyes at her her own hand, the name of the person for whom execution; and bidding them bring her several, it was destined. Supper was next brought in, she selected one of the finest, which was emof which she partook sparingly, as was usual broidered with gold, laying it carefully aside. with her; conversing from time to time with Early in the morning she rose, observing that Burgoin, her physician, who served her; and now she had but two hours to live; and having sometimes falling into a reverie, during which finished her toilet she came into her oratory, and it was remarked that a sweet smile, as if she had kneeling with her women before the altar, where heard some good news, would pass over her lea. they usually said mass, continued long in prayer. tures, lighting them up with an expression of Her physician then, afraid of her being exhaustanimated joy, which, much changed as she was ed, begged her to take a little bread and wine ; by sorrow and ill health, recalled to her poor which she did cheerfully, thanking him, at the servants her days of beauty. It was with one same time, for giving her her last meal. of these looks that, turning to her physician, she " A knock was now heard at the door, and a said, “ Did you remark, Burgoin, what that Earl messenger came to say that the lords waited for of Kent said in his talk with me; that my life her. She begged to be allowed a short time to would have been the death, as my death would conclude her devotions. Soon after, a second be the life of that religion? Oh, how glad am summons arriving, the door was opened, and the I at that speech! Here comes the truth at last, sheriff alone, with his white wand, walked into and I pray you remark it. They told me I was the room, proceeded to the altar, where the to die, hecause I had plotted against the queen; queen still knelt, and informed her that all was but then arrives this Kent, whom they sent ready. She then rose, saying simply, “Let us hither to convert me, and what says he? I am 90;' and Burgoin, her physician, who assisted to die for my religion.'

her to rise from her knees, asking her at this moment whether she would not wish to take anointed queen of Scotland. Surely, surely with her the little cross and ivory crucifix which they will not deny me this last little request: lay on the altar, she said, “Oh yes, yes; it was my poor girls wish only to see me die.' As she my intention to have done so: many, many said this, a few tears were observed to fall, for thanks for putting me in mind! She then re the first time; and, after some consultation, she ceived it, kissed it, and desired Annibal, one of was permitted to have two of her ladies and four her suite, to carry it before her. The sheriff, of her gentlemen beside her. She then immediwalking first, now conducted her to the door oiately chose Burgoin her physician, her almoner, the apartment; on reaching which, her servants, surgeon, and apothecary, with Jane Kennedy who had followed her thus far, were informed and Elizabeth Curle. Followed by them, and that they must now turn back, as a command by Melvil bearing her train, she entered the had been given that they should not accompany great hall, and walked to the scaffold, which had their mistress to the scatfold. This stern and been erected at its upper end. It was a raised unnecessary order was received by them with platform, about two feet in height, and twelve loud remonstrances and tears; but Mary only broad, surrounded by a rail, and covered with observed, that it was hard not to suffer her poor black. Upon it were placed a low chair and servants to be present at her death. She then cushion, two other seats, and the block. The took the crucifix in her hand, and bade them al-queen regarded it without the least change of fectionately adieu; whilst they clung in tears to countenance, cheerfully mounted the steps, and her robe, kissed her hand, and were with diffi- sat down with the same easy grace and dignity cul:y torn from her, and locked up in the apart with which she would have occupied her throne. merit

. The queen, alter this, proceeded alone On her right were seated the Earls of Kent and down the great staircase, at the foot of which Shrewsbury, on her lest stood the Sherifls, and she was received by the Earls of Shrewsbury before her the two executioners. The Earl of and Kent, who were struck with the perfect Kent, the Dean of Peterborough, Sir Amias tranquility and unaffected grace with which she Paulet, Sir Drew Drury, Beal, the Clerk of the met them. She was dressed in black satin, ma- Privy-council, and others, stood beside the scaftronly, but richly; and with more studied care fold; and these, with the guards, officers, attendthan she was coinmonly accustomed to bestow.ants, and some of the neighboring gentry, who She wore a long veil of white crape, and her had been permitted to be present, niade up an usual high Italian ruff; an Agnus Dei was sus- assembly of about two hundred in all. Peal pended by a pomander chain round her neck, then read the warrant for her death, which she and her beads of gold hung at her girdle. At heard with apparent attention; but those near the bottom of the staircase she found Sir Andrew her could see, by the sweet and absent expresMelvil, her old affectionate servant, and master sion of her countenance, ibat her thoughts were of her household, waiting to take his last fare- afar off. well. On seeing her, he flung himself on his “When it was finished, she crossed herself, knees at her feet, and bitterly lamented it should and addressed a few words to the persons round have fallen on him to carry to Scotland the the scaffold. She spoke of her rights as a sovheart-rending news of his dear mistress's death. ereign princess, which had been invaded and Weep not, my good Melvil,' said she, “but ra- trampled on, and of her long sorrows and impristher rejoice that an end has at last come to the onment; but expressed the deepest thanklulness sorrows of Mary Stuart. And carry this news to Go:l that, being about to die for her religion, with thee, that I die firm in my religion, true to she was permitted, before this company, to testify Scotland, true to France. May God, who can that she died a Catholic, and innocent of having alone judge the thoughts and actions of men, invented any plot. or consented to any practices forgive those who have thirsted for my blood! against the queen's life. I will here,' said she, He knows my heart; he knows my desire hath in my last moments, accuse no one; but when ever been, that Scotland and England should be I am gone much will be discovered inat is now united. Remember me to my son,” she added; hid, and the objects of those who have procured 'tell him I have done nothing that may preju- my death be more clearly disclosed to the dice his kingdom of Scotland. And now, good world.' Melvil, my most faithful servant, once more I “Fletcher, the Dean of Peterborough, now bid thee farewell.' She then earnestly entreated | came up upon the scaifold, and, with the Earls of that her women might still be permitted to be Kent and Shrewsbury, made an ineflectual at with her at her death; but the Parl of Kent pe-tempt to engage Mary in their devotions; but remptorily refused, alleging that they would she repelled all their offers, at first mildly, and only disturb every thing by their lamentations, alterwards, when they insisted on her joining and be guilty of something scandalous and su- with them in prayer, in more peremptory ternis. perstitious ; probably dipping their handker. It was at this moment that Kent, in the excess of chiers in her blood. Alas, poor souls !' said his Puritanism, observing her intensely regardlMary, 'I will give my word and promise they ing the crucifix, bade her renounce such antiwill do none of these things. It would do them quated superstitions: Madam,' said he, 'that good to bid me farewell; and I hope your unis image of Christ serves to little purpose, if you tress, who is a maiden queen, hath not given you have him not engraved upon your heart.'—'ÀN, 80 strait a commission. She might grant me said Mary, there is nothing more becoming a more than this, were Į a far meaner person. dying Christian than to carry in his hands this And yet, my lords, you know I am cousin to your remembrance of his redemption. How iinpossiqueen, descended from the blood of Henry the ble is it to have such an object in our hands and Seventh, a married queen of France, and an | keep the heart unmoved !

BY MISS SKELTON.

• The Dein of Peterborough then prayed in mies perish! was the prayer of the Dean of English, being joined by the noblemen and gen- Peterborough; but the spectators were dissolve llemen who were present; whilst Mary, kneel. ed in tears, and one deep voice only answered ing apart. repeated portions of the Penitential Amen. It came from the Earl of Kent. Psalms in Latin, and afterwards continued her “An affecting incident now occurred. On prayers aloud in English. By this time, the removing the dead body, and the clothes and dean having concluded, there was a deep si mantle which lay beside il

, Mary's favorite little lence, so that every word was heard. Amid this dog, which had followed its mistress to the scafstillness she recommended to God his afflicted fold unperceived, was found nestling under them. Church, her son the King of Scotland, and No entreaty could prevail on it to quit the spot; Queen Elizabeth. She declared that her whole and it remained lying beside the corpse, and hope rested on her Saviour; and, although she stained in the blood, till forcibly carried away by confessed that she was a great sinner, she hum- the attendants."

A. C. bly trusted that the blood of that Inmaculate Lainb which had been shed for all sinners would wash all her guilt away. She then invoked the blessed Virgin and all the saints, imploring them

THE WOFUL VOICE. to grant her their prayers with God: and finally declared that she forgave all her enemies. It was impossible for any one to behold her at this moment without being deeply affected; on her There came a voice from a distant land, with a knees, her hands clasped together and raised to sad lamenting toneHeaven, an expression of adoration and divine It told of war, and chains, and death, power lost, serenity lighting up her features, and upon her

and glory gone; lips the words of forgiveness to her persecutors. A voice of pain, despair, and woe, å wild and As she foished her devotions she kissed the cru

mournful crycifix, and making the sign of the cross, exclaim

“Oh, England! mother! weep for us, a bitter

death we die ! ed in a clear, sweet voice, As thine arms, O my God, were spread out upon the cross, so receive “Weary and wounded, faint and few, we fight, me within the arms of thy mercy: extend thy and fight in vain; pity, and forgive my sins !

We die, and leave our bones to strew this desert's - She then cheerfully suffered herself to be un- iry plain, dressed by her two women, Jane Kennedy and And to thee the memory of our blood, and our disElizabeth Curle, and gently admonished them

tant tomb to be not to distress her by their tears and lamenta-An altar and a fitting shrine for a vengeance wortions: putting her finger on her lips, and bidding

thy thee.them remember that she had promised for them. And England heard that woful voice, and bow'd On seeing the executioner come up to offer his

her queenly head, assistance she smiled, and playfully said she had And there went å wail round her sacred shores, a neither been used to such grooms of the cham

mourning for the dead ; ber, nor to undress before so many people. For many a happy heart was chill'd, and many a When all was really she kissed her two women, hope laid low, and giving them her last blessing, desired them And many a warm affection sleeps with them be. to leave her, one of them having first bound her

neath the snow. eyes with the handkerchief which she had chosen for the purpose. She then sat down, And England wept-well may she weep-yet doth and clasping her hands to gether, held her neck she weep in vain; firm anıl erect, expecting that she was to be be- Not all her tears, her blood, her wealth, can bring hea-lel in the French fashion, with a sword, and or change that note of utter grief, or hush that

back life again, in a sitting attitu le. Those who were present. voice of shame, and knew not of this misconception, wondered at which teils of chains and bitter death, defeat, and this; and, in the parise, Mary, still waiting for tarnished fame. the blow, repeated the psalm, 'In thee, O Lord, have I trusted: let me never be put to confusion. There came a voice from a distant land, a wild and On being made aware of her mistake she in

mournful crystantly knelt down, and, groping with her hands Oh, England! mother! weep for us, a bitter for the block. laid her neck upon it without the

death we die ! slightest mark of trembling or hesitation. Her And we leave to thee our desert tomb, a fitting last words were. 'Into thy hands I commend my For a vengeance meet for such fate as ours, a ven

shrine to be spirit for thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.' At this moment the tears and emo

geance worthy thee ! tions of the spectators had reached their height, “Oh, England ! mourn thy fallen sons; oh! galand appear, unfortunately, to have shaken the lant hearts and brave, nerves and disturbed the aim of the executioner. Mourn hearts as gallant and as true-mourn, for ye so that his first blow was ill-directed, and only could not save; wounded his victim. She lay, however, per And let their distant, desert tomb, a deathless altar fectly still, and the next stroke severed the head be from the body. The executioner then held the To vengeance worthy wrongs like theirs, to ven. head

up, and called aloud, 'God save the geance worthy ye ! Queen! So let all Queen Elizabeth's ene

Ainsworth's Mogazine.

From the Edinburgh Review,

LIFE AND WRITINGS OF ADDISON. direction. She is better acquainted with

Shakspeare and Raleigh, than with Con.

greve and Prior; and is far more at home The Life of Joseph Addison. By Lucy among the ruffs and peaked beards of

Aikin. Two volumes. 8vo. London : Theobald's, than among the Steenkirks and 1843.

flowing periwigs which surrounded Queen Some reviewers are of opinion that a lady Anne's tea.table at Hampton. She seems who dares to publish a book renounces by to have written about the Elizabethan age, that act the franchises appertaining to her because she had read much about it; she sex, and can claim no exemption from the seems, on the other hand, to have read a utmost rigor of critical procedure. From little about the age of Addison, because that opinion we dissent. We admit, in- she had determined to write about it. The deed, that in a country which boasts of consequence is, that she has had to demany female writers, éminently qualified scribe men and things withont baving by their talents and acquirements to in- either a correct or a vivid idea of them, fluence the public mind, it would be of and that she has often fallen into errors of most pernicious consequence that inaccu- a very serious kind. Some of these errors rate history or unsound philosophy should we may perhaps take occasion to point be suffered to pass uncensured, merely be out. But

we have not time to poini out cause the offender chanced to be a lady. one half of those which we have observed ; But we conceive that, on such occasions, a and it is but too likely that we may not critic would do well to imitate that cour. have observed all those which exist. The teous Knight who found himself compelled reputation which Miss Aikin has justly by duty to keep the Lists against Brada- earned stands so high, and the charm of mante. He, we are told, defended success.

Addison's letters is so great, that a second fully the cause of which he was the cham.

edition of this work may probably be repion ; but, before the fight began, exchanged quired. If so, we hope that every paraBalisarda for a less deadly sword, of which graph will be revised, and that every date he carefully blunted the point and edge.*

and statement of fact about which there Nor are the immunities of sex the only can be the smallest doubt will be carefully immunities which Miss Aikin may right.

verified. fully plead. Several of her works, and

To Addison himself we are bound by a especially the very pleasing Memoirs of sentiment as much like affection as any the Reign of James the First, have fully sentiment can be, which is ispired by one entitled her to the privileges enjoyed by who has been sleeping a hundred and good writers. One of those privileges we twenty years in Westminster Abbey. We hold to be this, that such writers, when, trust, however, that this feeling will not either from the unlucky choice of a sub? betray us into that abject idolatry which ject, or from the indolence too often pro- ve have often had occasion to reprehend duced by success, they happen to fail, shall in others, and which seldom fails to make not be subjected to the severe discipline both the idolater and the idol ridiculous. which it is sometimes necessary to inflict A man of genius and virtue is but a man. upon dunces and impostors; but shall All his powers cannot be equally developmerely be reminded by a gentle touch, like ed; nor can we expect from him perfect that with which the Laputan flapper roused self-knowledge.. We need not, therefore, his dreaming lord, that it is high time to hesitate to admit that Addison has left us wake.

some compositions which do not rise above Our readers will probably infer from mediocrity, some heroic poems hardly what we have said that Miss Aikin's book equal to Parnell's, some criticism as superbas disappointed us. The truth is, that she ficial as Dr. Blair's, and a tragedy not very is not well acquainted with her subject. much better than Dr. Johnson's. It is No person who is not familiar with the praise enongh to say of a writer, that, in a political and literary history of England high department of literature, in which during the reigns of William III., of Anne, many eminent writers have distinguished and of George I., can possibly write a good themselves, he has had no equal; and this life of Addison. Now, we mean no re may with strict justice be said of Addison. proach to Miss Aikin, and many will think

As a man, he may not have deserved the that we pay her a compliment, when we adoration which he received from those say that her studies have taken a different who, bewitched by his fascinating society,

and indebted for all the comforts of life io Orlando Furioso, xlv. 68.

his generous and delicate friendship, worshipped him nightly, in his favorite temple interesting volume on the Polity and Reliat Button's. But, after full inquiry and gion of Barbary; and another on the Heimpartial reflection, we have long been brew Customs, and the State of Rabbinical convinced, that he deserved as much love Learning. He rose to eminence in his pro. and esteem as can be justly claimed by any fession, and became one of the royal chapof our infirm and erring race. Some blem- lains, a doctor of divinity, archdeacon of ishes may undoubtedly be detected in his Salisbury, and dean of Lichfield. It is said character ; but the more carefully it is ex- that he would have been made a bishop af. amined, the more will it appear, to use the ter the Revolution, if he had not given ofphrase of the old anatomists, sound in the fence to the Government by strenuously noble parts-free from all taint of perfidy, opposing, in the Convocation of 1689, the of cowardice, of cruelty, of ingratitude, of liberal policy of William and Tillotson. envy. Men may easily be named, in whom

In 1672, not long after Dr. Addison's re. some particular good disposition has been turn from Tangier, his son Joseph was more conspicuous than in Addison. But born. of Joseph's childhood we know the just harmony of qualities, the exact little. He learned his rudiments at schools temper between the stern and the humane in his father's neighborhood, aud was then virtues, the habitual observance of every sent to the Charter House. The anecdotes law, not only of moral rectitude, but of which are popularly related about his boymoral grace and dignity, distinguish him ish tricks, do not harmonize very well with from all men who have been tried by equal. what we know of his riper years.

There ly strong temptations, and about whose remains a tradition that he was the ringconduct we possess equally full informa- leader in a barring-out; and another tradition.

tion that he ran away from school and hid His father was the Reverend Lancelot himself in a wood, where he fed on berries Addison, who, though eclipsed by his more and slept in a hollow tree, till after a long celebrated son, made some figure in the search he was discovered and brought world, and occupies with credit two folio home. If these stories be true, it would pages in the - Biographia Britannica." be curious to know by what moral disciLancelot was sent up, as a poor scholar, pline so mutinous and enterprising a lad from Westmoreland to Queen's College, was transformed into the gentlest and most Oxford, in the time of the Commonwealth ; modest of men. made some progress in learning; became, We have abundant proof that, whatever like most of his fellow-students, a violent Joseph's pranks may have been, he pursued Royalist ; lampooned the heads of the bis studies vigorously and successfully. At university, and was forced to ask pardon fifteen he was not only fit for the university, on his bended knees. When he had left but carried thither a classical taste, and a college, he earned a humble subsistence by stock of learning which would have done reading the liturgy of the fallen Church, to honor to a Master of Arts. He was enterthe families of those sturdy squires whose ed at Queen's College, Oxford; but he had manor houses were scattered over the Wild not been many months there, when some of Sussex. After the Restoration, his loy of his Larin verses fell by accident into the alty was rewarded with the post of chaplain hands of Dr. Lancaster, Dean of Magdalene to the garrison of Dunkirk. When Dun College. The young scholar's diction and kirk was sold to France, he lost his em- versification were already such as veteran ployment. But Tangier had been ceded professors might envy. Dr. Lancaster was by Portugal to England as part of the mar. desirous to serve a boy of such promise ; riage-portion of the Infanta Catharine ; and nor was an opportunity long wanting. The to Tangier Lancelot Addison was sent. A Revolution had just taken place; and nomore miserable situation can hardly be where had it been hailed with more delight conceived. It was difficult to say whether than at Magdalene college. That great the unfortunate settlers were more tor. and opulent corporation had been treated mented by the heats or by the rains; by by James, and by his Chancellor, with an the soldiers within the wall or by the Moors insolence and injustice which, even in such without it. One advantage the chaplain a Prince and in such a Minister, may justly had. He enjoyed an excellent opportunity excite amazement; and which had done of studying the history and manners of more than even the prosecution of the Jews and Mahommedans; and of this op- Bishops to alienate the Church of England portunity be appears to have made excel. from the throne. A president, duly electSent use. On his return to England, astered, had been violently expelled from his some years of banishment, he published an dwelling: a Papist had been set over the

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