FOOTNOTES:

Sophia, a royal rosebud, plucked by premature fate, and snatched away from her parents—James, King of Great Britain, France and Ireland, and Queen Anne—that shemight flourish again in the rosary of Christ, was placed here on the twenty-third of June, in the fourth year of the reign of King James, 1606.

The little creature was born on the twenty-first of June at Greenwich—a favorite palace of the English sovereigns. Great preparations had been made for her christening, and for the tourneys which were to be held at the same time in honor of her grandfather the King of Denmark's visit. But the baby only lived two days, and was hastily baptized "Sophia," after the Queen of Denmark. James the First gave orders that she should be buried "as cheaply as possible, without any solemnity or funeral."[49]Nevertheless he made a contract with Nicholas Poutrain, the royal sculptor, for her monument, the cost of which was not to exceed one hundred and forty pounds. And we find that her coffin was very solemnly conveyed up the river by barge, covered with black velvet, accompanied by three other barges covered with black cloth and bearing many nobles, lords, ladies, and the officers-of-arms, to the Parliament stairs at Westminster.Thence the procession went to the south-east door of the Abbey, where it was met by the great lords of the Council, the Heralds, and chief officers of the court, the

Dean and Prebends with the choir; and so they passed to King Henry the Seventh's chapel where there was an Antiphon sung with the organ; in the meantime the Body was interred in a Vault at the end of the Tomb then erecting for Queen Elizabeth.[50]

THE CRADLE TOMB.THE CRADLE TOMB.

The chief mourner was that unhappy Lady Arabella Stuart, king James' cousin, who, years after,ended her troubled life in the Tower, and was brought like little baby Sophia "by the dark river," and laid in the same grave as Mary, Queen of Scots, her kinswoman.

Upon the same altar step there is another monument to a little princess—Sophia's sister Mary. She was the third daughter of James the First: but the first princess of the new dynasty who was born in England, and the first royal child baptized in the Reformed Church. As "three quarters of a century had elapsed since a child was born to the Sovereign of England," great were the rejoicings on little Mary's birth upon the eighth of April, 1605. Bonfires were lighted, church bells were rung all day long, and there were scrambles for money in the streets.

There is a curious account of the clothes provided for this first princess of Great Britain, which shows us how royal babies were dressed then. She had

a carnation velvet cradle, fringed with silver fringe, and lined with carnation satin; a double scarlet cloth to lay upon the cradle in the night; a cradle cloth of carnation velvet witha train, laid with silver, and lined with taffety to lay upon the cradle; two small mantles of unshorn velvet, lined with the same velvet; one large bearing cloth of carnation velvet, to be used when the child is brought forth of the chamber, lined with taffety; one great head sheet of cambric for the cradle, containing two breadths, and three yards long, wrought all over with gold and colored silks, and fringed with gold; six large handkerchiefs of fine cambric, whereof one to be edged with fair cut work, to lay over the child's face; six veils of lawn, edged with fair bone lace, to pin with the mantles; six gathered bibs of fine lawn with ruffles edged with bone lace; two bibs to wear under them, wrought with gold and colored silks, etc.[51]

The total value of these fineries and of all the lace and cambric required for the baby's trousseau was estimated at three hundred pounds.

Her christening upon the fifth of May, was conducted on the most gorgeous scale that had ever been seen in England. Many peers were raised to higher rank, and numbers of knights were created barons in honor of the occasion. The chapel at Greenwich palace was hung with green velvet and cloth of gold. "A very rich and stately fontof silver and gilt, most curiously wrought with figures of beasts, serpents, and other antique works,"[52]stood under a canopy of cloth of gold twelve feet square. The child was carried from the queen's lodgings by the countess of Derby, under a canopy borne by eight barons. Dukes and bishops, earls and barons went before the Earl of Northumberland, who bore a gilt basin; and the Countess of Worcester came after him, "bearing a cushen covered with Lawne, which had thereon many jewels of inestimable price."[53]The Lady Derby's train was borne by the greatest countesses in the land; and the baby's "train of the mantle of purple velvet, embroidered round about with gold, and furred with ermines,"[54]was borne by noblemen. The Archbishop of Canterbury christened the little princess. Her godparents were the Duke of Holstein, brother to the queen, the Lady Arabella Stuart, and the Countess of Northumberland. And when the christening was over, "the heralds put on their coats, the trumpets sounded."

King at arms, "making low reverence unto the King's Majesty,"[55]proclaimed the little girl's name aloud in the chapel.

Times have happily changed since those days. Contrast all this fuss and cold formality with a simple christening that took place only a week ago in England. A little royal duke, in whose veins the blood of the Stuarts still flows, was brought to the font of the quiet village church of Esher in Surrey. Very peaceful and unpretentious was the baby Duke of Albany's christening—poor little fatherless boy. But there were none present who did not truly love and honor the widowed grandmother who held him in her arms and the young widowed mother who stood by, or mourn for the accomplished, studious father, who died but a few months ago. Which is likely to have the happiest childhood—the little Guelph wrapped in the pure white Honiton-lace robe in which all the children and grandchildren of Queen Victoria have been christened; or the little Stuart in her purple velvet train, among the cloth-of-gold, and heralds, and grandees of James the First's heartless, luxurious, extravagant court?

Babies were differently treated in those days. Now, be they children of a queen, or of the humblest commoner, they stay safe at home in their nice, warm nurseries, under their mother's eye. But the royal children of that date were sent off to be cared for "by trusty persons of quality." Little Princess Mary was given into the charge of Lady Knyvett. And on the first of June, when she was not two months old, she was taken down to Stanwell where Sir Thomas Knyvett lived.

He was allowed twenty pounds per week for the diet of the princess and of her suite, consisting of six rockers, and several inferior attendants; but the king took upon himself the payment of their wages, the expenses of her removals from house to house, of her apparel, coach and horses, etc.[56]

THE MONUMENTS OF PRINCESS SOPHIA AND PRINCESS MARY.THE MONUMENTS OF PRINCESS SOPHIA AND PRINCESS MARY.

Lady Knyvett took the greatest care of her little charge. But children were badly understood in those times. Badly nursed, and fed, and clothed, two thirds of the babies that were born in England died. It was only the very strong ones who could survive their bringing-up. Think only of that stuffy cradle of "carnation velvet," and the "mantles of unshorn velvet," and the bibs "wrought with gold and colored silks." Hot, uncomfortable, unhealthy things—one shudders to think of a little tender baby in such garments. Then think of the utter ignorance of most of the physicians of those days; and of the appalling disregard of ventilation, baths, and proper food. What wonder, then, that little Princess Mary did not live long. When she was scarcely more than two years old she caught a violent cold, which settled on her lungs with burning fever. The queen came constantly to see her little girl. But no tenderness or skill availed; and after a month's illness the little creature sank on the sixth of September, 1607. For fourteen hours

there was no sound of any word heard breaking from her lips; yet when it sensibly appeared that she would soon make a peaceable end of a troublesome life, she sighed out these words, "I go, I go!"[57]

And again when some stimulant was given her she looked up and said, "Away, I go." And yet once more she repeated faintly "I go;" and so went home.

Thus another "royal rosebud" was laid beside the baby Sophia at Queen Elizabeth's feet.

On her monument Princess Mary is represented lying on her side, half-raised on one elbow which rests upon an embroidered pillow, with one chubby little hand uplifted and clenched. She wears a straight-waisted bodice which looks as stiff as armor; an immensely full skirt that stands out all round her waist; a close lace cap; and a great square collar—the first representation in the Abbey, as far as I recollect, of those square collars that were soon to take the place of the beautiful Elizabethan ruff. At the corners of her tomb sit four fat weeping cherubs, one of whom has his hands raised in a perfect agony of grief. And a nice fierce little lion lies at the child's feet, looking very alert, and on the watch to guard his young mistress from harm.

It is a beautiful place to rest in—this quiet chapel, with its walls all covered with traceries, andgreat stone bosses suspended aloft in the blue mist of the roof. Over the stalls in the central chapel hang the old banners of the Knights of the Bath with famous names written upon them in letters of gold—names of warriors, explorers, statesmen, lawyers, men of science. Glints of deep red, blue and amber from

Storied windows richly dight,

flash through the dusky air. And above the tombs of the two young princesses is the urn containing the bones of Edward the Fifth and Richard Duke of York; making this chapel, as Dean Stanley aptly says, "The Innocents' Corner."

FOOTNOTES:[48]Memorials of Westminster Abbey. p. 181.[49]Fuller's Worthies.[50]Sandford. Kings and Queens of England. Book VII. p. 577.[51]"Princesses of England." M. A. E. Green. Vol. VI. p. 91.[52]Nichols. Vol. I. p. 572.[53]Stow's Chronicle, p. 862.[54]Green's Princesses, p. 92.[55]Nichols. Vol. I. p. 573.[56]Green's Princesses. p. 94.[57]Funeral Sermon for Prs. Mary, by G. Leech, preached in Henry the Seventh's Chapel, Sept. 23, 1607.

[48]Memorials of Westminster Abbey. p. 181.

[49]Fuller's Worthies.

[50]Sandford. Kings and Queens of England. Book VII. p. 577.

[51]"Princesses of England." M. A. E. Green. Vol. VI. p. 91.

[52]Nichols. Vol. I. p. 572.

[53]Stow's Chronicle, p. 862.

[54]Green's Princesses, p. 92.

[55]Nichols. Vol. I. p. 573.

[56]Green's Princesses. p. 94.

[57]Funeral Sermon for Prs. Mary, by G. Leech, preached in Henry the Seventh's Chapel, Sept. 23, 1607.

Among the Hampshire moors, covered with sheets of purple heather and dark forests of Scotch firs, stands a grand old house built of red brick with stone facings. It is a noble mansion, with its saloons and libraries; its great hall where the Yule log burns at Christmas on the hearth of a vast fireplace; its wide oaken staircases, secret doors and passages; its "Long Gallery" running the whole width of the building; its wonderful ceilings fretted with patterns and pendants of plaster-work; its oak-panelled bedrooms; its attics big enough to house a whole regiment. Outside there are terraces and lawns of finest turf, where Troco and bowls used to be played nearly three hundred years ago; and walled gardens opening one into the other with beautiful wrought-iron gates of intricatepattern. The Virginian creeper climbs over the house, and veils the stone mullions of the deep embayed windows in a delicate tangled tracery of stems and leaves. Groups of tall red brick chimneys rise above the gables of the roof. And crowning the splendid western front—above the great entrance through a triple arched porch, above the exquisite oriel window that hangs out from the walls of the chapel-room—the Prince of Wales's three feathers, the badge that Edward the Black Prince won at Cressy, are carved in stone.

It seems a long way from Westminster Abbey to Bramshill House. But the two are connected in more ways than one with the young hero of our story. For King James the First began to build that fine old house as a hunting box for his son Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales. He brought those giant fir-trees from Scotland, that stand like sentinels on Hartford Bridge Flats and in Bramshill Park; and he planted them in groups here and there as a memento of his northern home, little dreaming that they would take so kindly to the soil, and that millions upon millionsof their self-sown children would turn the bleak moorland into thick deep forest. Lastly it was in Bramshill Park that the writer's worthy ancestor, George Abbott, Archbishop of Canterbury, the dear friend and adviser of Henry, Prince of Wales, met with the misfortune that blighted his life. King James who was staying either at Bramshill, which had been bought by Lord Zouch, or at Elvetham close by, insisted on the archbishop going out shooting with him. And when, much against his will, the prelate consented, his shot aimed at a deer, glanced off a tree and killed one of the keepers instead. The archbishop was suspended from his office for a year, and it is said he never smiled again, a tradition that is borne out by his beautiful, sad portrait painted by Van Dyck.[58]It is not, however, with George Abbott, but with the young prince he loved so devotedly, that we have to do.

ENTRANCE TO BRAMSHILL HOUSE.ENTRANCE TO BRAMSHILL HOUSE.

The boy on whom the hopes of England were to be centered, was born at Stirling Castle in 1594. He was christened six months later at Edinburgh—a guard of the youths of the city, well dressed, standing on either side, as Lord Sussex, who had been sent by Queen Elizabeth to the ceremony with a present of plate, valued at three thousand pounds, carried the baby to the chapel. The child was named by his father, "Frederick Henry and Henry Frederick;" and the Bishop repeating these names over three times, they were proclaimed by heralds to the sound of trumpets. The little fellow was confided to the care of Lady Mar until he was five years old, and a very hard time he must have had. For "the severity of her temper, as well as the duty of her office, would not permit her to use any indulgence towards the prince."[59]But already, baby as he was, he gave signs of the sweetness of his disposition; for he showed not only reverence, but affection for the fierce old dame, and for Lord Mar, her son, who was his governor. When the Prince was taken from Lady Mar's severe care, he was given over to a tutor, Mr. Adam Newton, to whom he became greatly attached; and Lord Mar, Sir David Murray, andseveral lords, knights, and gentlemen made up his body of attendants. King James lost no time in teaching this little prince the duties and responsibilities of his station. The boy was scarcely six years old before his father wrote his book of "instructions to his dearest son, Henry the Prince," the best of all his works according to Bacon, who pronounced it "excellently written." These instructions are divided into three books;

the first instructing the prince in his duty toward God; the second in his duty when he should be King; and the third informing him how to behave himself in indifferent things, which were neither right nor wrong, but according as they were rightly or wrongly used.[60]

Before he is seven years old we find the child writing a letter in French to the States General of Holland, in which "he expresses his great regard for the States, and gratitude for the good opinion, which they had so early conceived of him, and of which he had received an account from several persons."[61]And on his ninth birthday he writes a letter to his father in Latin, beginning "Rex serennissime et amantissime pater," in which he tells the king what progress he has made, and how that "since the king's departure he had read over Terence'sHecyra, the third book of Phædrus'sFables, and two books of Cicero'sSelect Epistles; and he now thought himself capable of performing something in the commendatory kind of Epistles."[62]This is a good deal for a little boy of eight years old to accomplish. How would boys of our day like to do as much? They would probably prefer the other part of young Prince Henry's education. In 1601, when he was seven years old, he

began to apply himself to, and take pleasure in, active and manly exercises, learning to ride, sing, dance, leap, shoot with the bow and gun, toss the pike, etc., being instructed in the use of arms by Richard Preston, a gentleman of great accomplishments both of mind and body,

who was afterwards made Earl of Desmond in Ireland. Prince Henry was devoted to these manly pursuits as we shall see further on; and his fondness for them and his disregard of fatigue or exposure, helped, some thought, to bring about his untimely death.

In 1603, at Queen Elizabeth's death, the prince was nine years old. Before King James left Scotland, which he did immediately upon receiving the proclamation that raised him to the throne of Great Britain, he wrote a sensible letter to his son, telling him of the immense change in their fortunes, but warning him not to let this news make him "proud or insolent; for a king's son and heir was ye before, and no more are ye now. The augmentation that is hereby like to fall unto you, is but in cares and heavy burthens. Be therefore merry, but not insolent: keep a greatness, butsine fastu: Be resolute, but not wilfull: keep your kindness, but in honorable sort."[63]Excellent maxims; and it would have been well for the writer of them to lay them to heart as earnestly as his little son did.

The Prince and his mother, Anne of Denmark, followed the king to Windsor later in the year, spending a whole month on the journey from Edinburgh. This seems an absurd waste of time to us, who rush through in ten hours and a half by the Limited Mail, breakfasting at Edinburgh, and dining comfortably in London. However these Royal progresses were very slow and stately affairs. All the great lords and gentlemen whose places lay on the route, were honoured by visits. Their grand old castles, their beautiful new Elizabethan houses, such as Bramshill which I have described, or Hatfield, or Hardwicke Hall, were thronged with guests. There were hawking and hunting parties, masques and tourneys, and every sort and kind of amusement for the Royal visitors. And we can well imagine how interested the precocious young prince must have been in the novelty of this journey through the rich kingdom which he hoped to rule over one day.

The queen and prince arrived at Windsor during the feast of St. George, the patron saint of the famous order of the Garter. The little boy was made a knight of this most illustrious order; and astonished those present by his "quick witty answers, princely carriage and reverent obeisance at the altar,"[64]whichseemed extraordinary in one so young and so ignorant of such ceremonies.

As the plague was increasing about Windsor, Prince Henry removed to the royal palace of Oatlands on the Thames near Weybridge. Here for a time his sister, Princess Elizabeth, lived with him. Few pages of history are prettier or more interesting than the story of Henry and Elizabeth's affection for each other. She was two years younger than her brother, a gay, sprightly girl, destined to a most troubled after-life, for she is best known to the world as "the unfortunate Queen of Bohemia," grandmother of our English King, George the First. At sixteen she married the Elector Palatine, who was made king of Bohemia by the Protestant party in Germany, and thereby found herself in direct opposition to the Roman Catholic party, who, backed by Spain, supported the claim of Austria to the Bohemian throne. Poor Elizabeth, in spite of trouble and sorrow, poverty and the horrors of war, retained, though a fugitive and an exile, much of her gayety to the very end of her life; and some of her letters,even in her days of sorest need, are most amusing reading. But the letters that are chiefly interesting to us are those which passed between the young brother and sister in their happy youth, while Elizabeth was still a merry, light-hearted girl. The wretched system of which we have already spoken, that of sending royal children away from home to be "boarded out" in the house of some great noble or gentleman, caused no little sorrow to this brother and sister. Prince Henry, as heir to the crown, was given a separate establishment in 1603, and for a time Princess Elizabeth was permitted to share it. When they went to Oatlands the king allowed them seventy servants; twenty-two above stairs and forty-eight below. This number was soon increased to one hundred and four, and later in the year to one hundred and forty-one—fifty-six above and eighty-five below. But this happy arrangement did not last long. The princess was sent to Coombe Abbey in Warwickshire, under the care of good Lord Harrington, her governor. And the prince went to Wolsey's famous palace of Hampton Court,

where he resided chiefly till about Michaelmas of the year following, when he returned to housekeeping, his servants having in the interval been put to board-wages.

Now began a constant interchange of letters between the children. The meetings were rare. So they consoled themselves by writing, telling each other of their amusements, their occupations, their journeys, their lessons and readings. Here is a pretty one from Prince Henry, written a few years later:

That you are displeased to be left in solitude I can well believe, for you damsels and women are sociable creatures; but you know that those who love each other best cannot always be glued together; and if I have gone from you to make war on hares, as you suppose, I would you should know that it is not less honorable to combat against hares than conies, and yet it is well authenticated by the experience of our age, that this latter is a royal game. But this north wind, preventing us from our ordinary exercises, will blow us straight to London, so in a short time it is probable we may celebrate together, the feast of St. Mangiart and St. Pensard;[65]to whom recommending you this next Shrove Tuesday,I am etc. etc.[66]

I am etc. etc.[66]

BRAMSHILL HOUSE, FROM THE NORTH.

We now begin to learn something of the boy's tastes. So early as 1604 when he is but ten years old, he is looked upon as a patron of letters. Lord Spencer sends him a present of Philippe de Comines' Memoirs from Althorpe, knowing his liking for solid reading. And he is given Pibrac's Quatrains in French to learn by heart. He is already corresponding in Latin with the Doge of Venice, the Landgrave of Hesse, the Duke of Brunswick, the Prince of Poland, and his grandfather, the King of Denmark. Then a year or so later we come upon a charming series of French letters between the prince and Henri Quatre, the famous King of France, who had a strong affection for the clever, high-minded boy, and foresaw how important his influence would be in Europe should he live. Prince Henry and the little Dauphin of France, afterward Louis the Thirteenth, were also warm friends, although they never met. When Monsieur de la Boderie came over to England as ambassador from France, he was charged with special messages to Prince Henry from Henri Quatre and the Dauphin. The latter begged the ambassador to tell the prince

that he cherished his friendship and often spoke of him and of the pack of little dogs which his Highness had sent him, and which he was very sorry that his Governess and Physician would not permit him to make use of.[67]

Poor little Dauphin! To have a pack of little dogs, and not be allowed to use them, must indeed have been hard. But he was not quite six years old then, so that perhaps he was a little young for field sports.

Prince Henry and his sister were both devoted to horses, and were bold and accomplished riders. When the Prince was hardly ten years old he wished "to mount a horse of prodigious mettle," and refusing the help of his attendants, who were greatly alarmed and tried to dissuade him from the attempt,

he got up himself from the side of a bank, and spurred the animal to a full gallop, in spite of the remonstrance of those who stood by; and at last having thoroughly exercised the horse, brought him in a gentle pace back, and dismounting, said to them, "How long shall I continue to be a child in your opinion?"[68]

King Henri Quatre sent over a French riding-master to the boy, a Monsieur St. Anthoine, for in those days France excelled in the "manège"—the elaborate art of horsemanship—which was a part of every fine gentleman's education. When the French ambassador came over to England he went to the Riding School to see how Prince Henry was profited by his French teaching, and wrote to the French Secretary of State:

The Dauphin may make a return for the dogs lately sent him by the Prince; for St. Anthoine tells me, that he cannot gratify the Prince more, than by sending him a suit of armour well gilt and enamelled, together with pistols and a sword of the same kind; and if he will add to these a couple of horses, one of which goes well, and the other a barb, it will be a singular favor done to the Prince.[69]

The Spanish ambassador, hearing of this present, instantly tried to curry favor with the boy by telling him that a number of horses were coming to him from the court of Spain—for young as he was, this wily statesman saw the important part the Prince might play in the fortunes of Europe.

But Henry was loyal in his friendship to France, and waited with great eagerness for the Dauphin's horses and armour, which speedily arrived. Monsieur de la Boderie writing again to France about the Prince, says:

None of his pleasures savour the least of a child. He is a particular lover of horses and what belongs to them; but is not fond of hunting; and when he goes to it, it is rather for the pleasure of galloping, than that which the dogs give him. He plays willingly enough at Tennis. . . . . but this always with persons elder than himself, as if he despised those of his own age. He studies two hours a day, and employs the rest of his time in tossing the pike, or leaping, or shooting with the bow, or throwing the bar, or vaulting, or some other exercise of that kind; and he is never idle. He shows himself likewise very good natured to his dependants, and supports their interests against any persons whatever; and he pushes what he undertakes for them or others with such zeal as gives success to it. For beside his exerting his whole strength to compass what he desires, he is already feared by those who have the management of affairs, and especially the Earl of Salisbury, who appears to be greatly apprehensive of the Prince's ascendant; as the Prince, on the other hand, shows little esteem for his Lordship.[70]

Here we have a fair picture of this twelve-year-old boy who had already seen how to choose the good, and reject the evil. And everything we learn of him as he grew older only serves to confirm the French ambassador's estimate of his character.

He was a fine, brave child, regardless of pain and danger; liking an old suit of Welsh freize, better than velvet and satin; obedient and dutiful to his parents, although he often disagreed with their opinions. And this was all the more creditable to him; for his mother openly showed her preference for his younger brother Charles; while his father was jealous and afraid of the noble-minded, truthful boy who would not countenance the scandals and evils of James's corrupt court.

FOOTNOTES:[58]Now in the possession of Maurice Kingsley, Esq.[59]Life of Henry, Prince of Wales. By Dr. Thomas Birch. p. 11.[60]Birch. p. 16.[61]Birch. p. 20. The letter is in the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum.[62]Birch. p. 22.[63]Harleian MSS.[64]Edward Howe's Chronicle. p. 826.[65]A pun onmangerandpenser, to eat and to think.[66]Green's Princesses. Vol. 5. p. 172.[67]Birch. p. 68.[68]Birch. p. 385.[69]Ambassades de la Boderie. Birch. p. 70.[70]Birch. p. 75. Ambassades de la Boderie. Vol. I, p. 400.

[58]Now in the possession of Maurice Kingsley, Esq.

[59]Life of Henry, Prince of Wales. By Dr. Thomas Birch. p. 11.

[60]Birch. p. 16.

[61]Birch. p. 20. The letter is in the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum.

[62]Birch. p. 22.

[63]Harleian MSS.

[64]Edward Howe's Chronicle. p. 826.

[65]A pun onmangerandpenser, to eat and to think.

[66]Green's Princesses. Vol. 5. p. 172.

[67]Birch. p. 68.

[68]Birch. p. 385.

[69]Ambassades de la Boderie. Birch. p. 70.

[70]Birch. p. 75. Ambassades de la Boderie. Vol. I, p. 400.

All English and American children have heard of the Fifth of November. It was a day of mingled terror and delight in our childhood. Just at dusk a band of men and boys used to tramp down the road, and gather close under the windows. They were armed with guns, and bore on poles a chair upon which was seated a hideous life-size effigy of a man, dressed in an old tattered coat and battered tall hat. Then they began in sepulchral voices to repeat the following words, very fast, with no stops, and in broad Hampshire dialect:

Remember, remember the fifth of NovemberGunpowder trayson and plot.I know no rayson why gunpowder traysonEver should be forgot.Old Guy Fox and his companions,With fifty-two barrels of gunpowderTo blow old England up.Look into your pocket, there's a little chink,Pray pull it up and give us some drink;All we wants is a little more moneyTo kindle up our old Bonfire.If you won't give us one bavven[71]we'll take two,The better for we and the wuss for you.Holler, boys, holler, boys, God save the King!Holler, boys, holler, boys, make the house ring.Hip! Hip! hip! Hoorah![72]

Remember, remember the fifth of NovemberGunpowder trayson and plot.I know no rayson why gunpowder traysonEver should be forgot.

Old Guy Fox and his companions,With fifty-two barrels of gunpowderTo blow old England up.Look into your pocket, there's a little chink,Pray pull it up and give us some drink;All we wants is a little more moneyTo kindle up our old Bonfire.If you won't give us one bavven[71]we'll take two,The better for we and the wuss for you.

Holler, boys, holler, boys, God save the King!Holler, boys, holler, boys, make the house ring.Hip! Hip! hip! Hoorah![72]

And "holler" they did. While the children, knowing what was coming, cowered shuddering inside the window curtains, frightened to death, and yet so fascinated with horror they were obliged to look, "Bang, bang, bang," went all the guns, fired up into the air round old Guy, with tremendous shouts. But that was not all. In the evening the huge bonfire twenty feet high down on the Common, for which all the men and boys had been begging "bavins" or cutting furze for days, was lighted. And round it every one in the parish assembled.

Ah! the delights of Bonfire Night! the thrill of excitement as the match was applied to a heap of well-dried sticks and straw in a sheltered hole on the leeward side. The yells of joy as the furze caught and crackled as only furze can crackle, and the flames ran up the sides of the stack and lit up Guy Fawkes, whose effigy, after going the rounds of the parish, was at length deposited on the top of the bonfire; the cloud of sparks that streamed out from the cracking, snapping pile; the squibs and crackers that every body threw at every body else; and then the climax, when the fire reached old Guy himself, and with a mighty heave the old fellow sank into his fiery grave in the centre of the bonfire, the squibs in his hat exploding like a round of musketry, and a roar rose from the good Hampshire throats as the whole burning mass collapsed while the flames rushed up fiercely with one last effort high into the foggy air. Then the good-nights, and the walk home, our hair and clothes smelling of smoke, and our eyes so dazzled that we stumbledand staggered along across the Common, while the shouts of the boys, dancing about the embers of the great fire, gradually died away in the distance.

What can all this have to do with Prince Henry you may ask?

A great deal, we answer. For these bonfires all over England on the Fifth of November, commemorate an event in James the First's reign which had a great effect on our young hero's mind.

Certain persons in England, who hated King James for his hard treatment of the Roman Catholic party, resolved to take the law into their own hands. They thought that if the king, Prince Henry, and the Parliament could be destroyed at one blow, they might take possession of Prince Charles and Princess Elizabeth, bring about a revolution and put the government into the hands of the Roman Catholics who would be helped by Spain. Robert Catesby was the chief of the conspirators; and for eighteen months he and a small band of desperate men worked in the utmost secrecy at their hideous scheme. The day chosen forits accomplishment was the fifth of November, 1605, the day on which Parliament met at Westminster. Everything was in readiness. Thirty-six barrels of gunpowder (not fifty-two as the Hampshire rhyme has it) were stored beneath the Parliament House. And Guido Fawkes, a daring adventurer, was in waiting in the cellar to set a light to them, and blow up King, Prince, and Parliament. But at the last moment, in spite of all their well-laid plans, in spite of all their wonderful secrecy, the plot leaked out. Lord Monteagle, a Roman Catholic Peer, received a mysterious warning from Tresham, one of the conspirators, whose courage failed him. Monteagle instantly told the Earl of Salisbury and the king. At midnight on the eve of the fifth, the cellars under the Parliament House were searched. There was Guido Fawkes, with touchwood and matches upon him, only waiting for the signal which was to be given him in a few hours. He was seized, dragged before the king and consigned to the Tower. The great heap of wood and coals in the cellar was torn down, and the barrels of gunpowder found beneath it. The conspirators fled.All Protestant England was roused to a frenzy of horror and dread at the discovery of such a fearful crime. The guilty men were chased from county to county, till at last all of them were either killed fighting, or captured and brought next year to the block. And thus ended the Gunpowder Plot. But its memory is still kept alive in England by the yearly bonfires and fireworks and Guy Fawkes processions of the Fifth of November.

This escape from a sudden and dreadful death, affected Prince Henry deeply. He was a boy of strong religious feelings. And from this time he never suffered any business to keep him from hearing a sermon every Tuesday, which was the day of the week on which the Gunpowder Plot was to have been carried out. But hearing of sermons was not the only sign of Prince Henry's piety. He was diligent in his own private prayers, generally going apart three times a day to pray quietly by himself. He was most careful too of the good behavior of his household. And above all things he had a horror of profane swearing. At his three palaces, St. James's in London, Richmond, andNonsuch, he ordered boxes to be kept for the fines he exacted from all those who used bad words; and this money was given to the poor.

There is a story told by Coke, the historian, how that the prince was once hunting a stag. The stag was spent, and crossing a road fell in with a butcher and his dog. The dog killed the stag; and when the hunting party came up and found their sport was over they were enraged, and tried to incense the prince against the butcher. But Henry answered quietly: "What if the butcher's dog killed the stag? Could the butcher help it?" The rest replied that if the king had been so served "he would have sworn so as no man could have endured it." "Away," rejoined the prince; "all the pleasure in the world is not worth an oath."[73]

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