FOOTNOTES:

Being minded by those about her to call upon God even when the pangs of death were upon her; "I am not able," saith she, "to say my long prayer" (meaning the Lord's Prayer), "but I will say my short one:Lighten mine eyes, O Lord, lest I sleep the sleep of death." This done the little lamb gave up the ghost.[94]

She was buried in the tomb of her great-grandmother, the beautiful Mary, Queen of Scots, in the South Aisle of Henry the Seventh's Chapel.

The Effigies of the Lady Anna, who was borne ye 17th of March 1636, buried ye 30th of ye same month in the yeare of our Lord god—1637The Effigies of the Lady Anna, who was borne ye 17th of March 1636, buried ye 30th of ye same month in the yeare of our Lord god—1637

The curious and very rare engraving, which we are fortunately able to reproduce, was published a few months after her death. The little creature, in a close-fitting skull-cap covering her head and fastened under her chin, stands grasping a rose in her little hand, with a thoughtful expression on her baby face. Based on the spelling of the name of the little princess we find the following quaint verse:

Anna is like a circle's endless frame,For read it forward, backward, 'tis the same.Eternity is circular and round,And Anna hath eternal glory found.[95]

In the same year, 1640, that little Anna found "eternal glory," her brother Henry was born at Oatlands Park in Surrey.

There is a strong resemblance between this young prince, and his uncle Henry, Prince of Wales, with whom we are so well acquainted. Both were grave and studious beyond their years. Both were diligent and active in whatever work came in their way to do. Both were strong Protestants. Both cared for the society and friendship of older and wiser men, rather than that of the gay, frivolous young courtiers of their own age. In face and form they must have been somewhat alike; but the circumstances of their lives were different.

Nothing could outwardly have been more happy and successful than the life of Henry, Prince of Wales, the son of a poor Scotch king, raised suddenly to the position of heir to the most prosperous kingdom in Europe. Henry, Duke of Gloucester, on the contrary, was destined to take his share from his earliest childhood in the disasters of his family. Before he was two years old his troubles began. While his father, as an old royalist writer expresses it, "was hunted from place to place like a partridge upon the mountains," his mother was over in Holland, where she gathered together an army with the proceeds of the crown jewels which she sold or pawned. She landed in England in 1643, fought several battles on her own account, and joined the king in Warwickshire on July 13, sleeping the night before in Shakespeare's house at Stratford-on-Avon, which then belonged to the poet's daughter, Mrs. Hall.

Henry of Oatlands, as the little Duke of Gloucester was called from his birthplace, was left meanwhile by his parents at St. James's Palace, with his sister Elizabeth. The Parliament on the outbreak of the Civil War in 1642, secured complete possession of London, and the two children remained in their hands in a sort of honorable captivity.

They were both of so tender years that they were neither sensible of their father's sufferings nor capable to relieve them; so that their innocent harmlessness on any account not only protected them from the malice of their enemies, but proved to be a meanes to work on their evil mindes to provide for them not only an honorable sustenance, but a royal attendance.[96]

Little Henry must have been a charming child; and we can well imagine that he was kindly treated by his captors, who appeared to have entertained a notion that a royal child brought up under the stern puritan rule, and separated so early from the evil influences of courts and cavaliers, might be a good ruler for England when he grew up. The boy's natural disposition was all in favor of this possibility.

Such was the seriousness of his tender age, as wrought admiration in his attendants, for he proceeded in so sweet a method, that he was able in point of Religion—to render an account beyond many whose years should have manifested a surer and more certain judgment.[97]

The little boy did not even know his father by sight; for they had never met since the king left London in 1642. But when Henry was six years old an unexpected opportunity offered itself of learning more about his absent father. Henry's elder brother, the Duke of York, afterwards King James the Second, was taken prisoner at Oxford in 1646. His servants were all dismissed; and he was brought to London to live with the Duke of Gloucester and Princess Elizabeth.

This new society was exceedingly pleasing to the young innocent, who began now to hearken to his brother's discourses with man-like attention imbibing from his lips a new, though natural affection, towards his unknown and distressed father.[98]

This pleasant companionship between the two brothers lasted for nearly two years. Then the Duke of York escaped from St. James's and went to Holland to join his brother Charles, Prince of Wales, who had fitted out a fleet to attempt to rescue his father. Henry and Elizabeth were again left alone. Princess Elizabeth however kept her little brother constantly informed "of the hourely danger both themselves and father stood in." Poor little children! Our hearts ache for the eight-year-old boy and the thirteen-year-old girl who were trembling for their own and their father's safety. Their fears for the king were only too well founded.

The extreme party in Parliament had been steadily gaining in strength. And on December 6, 1648, Colonel Pride "purged" the House of Commons of one hundred and forty-three members, who were willing to treat with the king and accept the concessions he offered. On December 18, King Charles was removed from Hurst Castle in the Isle of Wight, where he had been closely imprisoned, and brought to St. James's; and thence he was taken to Windsor Castle.

On January 20, 1649, the king appeared before the High Court of Justice assembled in Westminster Hall. On January 27, judgment of death was pronounced against "Charles Stuart, King of England." Two days later, upon January 29, which

was the day before he dyed, he desired he might see and take his last farewell to his children, which with some regret was granted, and the Lady Elizabeth and the Duke of Gloucester brought to him. The King taking the Duke upon his knee, said "Sweet heart, now will they cut off thy father's head, mark child what I say, they will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee a King, but you must not be a King so long as your brothers Charles and James be living, for they will cut off your brothers' heads (when they can catch them) and cut off thy head too at the last, and therefore I charge you not to be made a King by them." At which words the child smiling said, "I will be torn in pieces first," which falling so unexpectedly from one so young made the King rejoice exceedingly.... And after that day he never saw his father's face more.[99]

HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER.HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER.

Whatever were King Charles's faults, and they were many, he at least knew how to die. The next day after this interview, he came on foot from St. James's to his banqueting room at Whitehall, and laid his head on the block like a gallant and Christian gentleman.

What a strange and tragic memory that meeting must have been for the little Duke of Gloucester. At last he saw his unknown father; and found him a sad, worn man, on the eve of dying a terrible death.

But the child's troubles were not to end here. The next year he and his sister were taken to Carisbroke Castle in the Isle of Wight, where their father had been confined for so long. And there Elizabeth fell into a consumption and died.

"Now is the little Duke left totally alone, to take comfort only in his solitary meditations,"[100]says his historian, who indulges in rather violent expressions against the Protectorate. For he goes on to call the Parliament "those monsters at Westminster." The so-called "monsters" were somewhat embarrassed by the possession of the young duke; and at last resolved to send him abroad to complete his education on certain conditions.

Henry was now eleven years old; and the prospect of comparative freedom was very welcome to him. "My father told me" (said he to one about him) "that God would provide for me, which he hath abundantly done, in that he delivereth me as a Lamb out of the pawes of the devouring Lyon."[101]

A tutor was chosen for the Prince; and an allowance of three thousand pounds a year was to be granted him if he fulfilled the following conditions:

I. He was to go to a Protestant School.

II. He was to correspond with the Parliament by letter, and his tutor was to render account of his proficiency and learning.

III. He was not to go near his mother or brothers, or have anything to do with them, "but in all things utterly disown them."

IV. That he should immediately return upon notice from the Parliament given to him for that purpose.

The third condition was one which the boy found it impossible to keep. For the moment he landed in France he went to see his mother andbrothers, "takes the blessing of the one and salutes the other, and after a short stay for the future improvement of his learning, he goes to Leyden, and settles there to study."[102]

For three years Henry stayed at Leyden, and eagerly profited by the teaching of the wise men who gathered to this famous university from all parts of Europe. "Such was his forwardnesse and zeal to learning, and to attain the arts, that he would steal from his houres of rest to adde to them of his study."[103]He was beloved and honored by all who knew him, and was soon pronounced "a most compleat Gentleman, and rarely accomplished." In looks he resembled his father; "his hair of a sad or dark brown, of a middle stature, strong judgment, a deep and reaching understanding, and a most pleasing affable delivery."[104]

Our prince was no mere pedant. Young as he was, he knew that there is other precious knowledge besides mere book-learning—though that was pleasant to his studious mind. A man who is to rule men must understand them. He must study men, or he will only be able to govern by theories, which are always dangerous things if they are not backed up by practical knowledge. The duke believed in the great importance of a knowledge of the world and of human nature. Therefore when he was fourteen, after laying the foundation of his learning by hard work at Leyden, he returned to the Court of France to study men instead of books for a time, in order to make himself more capable of assisting his brother Charles, if he should come to his father's throne again.

The compact between Henry and the Parliament was completely at an end. Whether he ever received the allowance of three thousand pounds seems doubtful. Fuller declares it never was paid. The lad was therefore free to go where he chose. He travelled a great deal. And in France he always tried to know and imitate the best, "not being caught with novelties, nor infected with customes, nor given to affectation."[105]

In Paris a sore trial of the boy's strength of principle awaited him. Charles the Second, the king without a kingdom, left Paris in 1654 with the Duke of York, and returned to Flanders where most of his exile was spent, leaving Henry with his mother, Queen Henrietta Maria, in order to pursue his studies. The queen was a strong Roman Catholic; and no sooner had Charles left the French Court than she tried by every means in her power to convert her son Henry to her own church. She first told him that his brothers' fortunes were almost desperate: but that if he would embrace the Romish Faith, the Pope and other European Princes would at once take part in King Charles's cause. Then she said that as the duke had no fortune of his own, and as she could give him none, if he would but abjure his faith the Queen of France would confer rich abbeys and benefices upon him, such as would enable him to live

in that splendour as was suitable to his birth, that in a little time the pope would make him a Cardinal; by which he might be able to do the king, his brother, much service, and contribute to his recovery; whereas without this he must beexposed to great necessity and misery, for that she was not able any longer to give him maintenance.[106]

But no argument the queen used could shake the resolute boy. He reminded her of the precepts he had received from the king, his father, who had died in the faith of the Anglican Church. He put her in mind of the promise he had lately made to his eldest brother, never to change his religion. And he besought the queen to press him no further, until he could at least communicate with the king his brother.

PRINCESS ELIZABETH IN PRISON.PRINCESS ELIZABETH IN PRISON.

Queen Henrietta knew well enough what Charles's views were on the subject. So finding that her persuasions availed nothing, she dismissed the tutor, and packed Prince Henry off to the Abbey of Pontoise, of which her almoner, Montague, was abbot. Here the duke was entirely separated from every one but Roman Catholics; and a very bad time he had, for every hour some one or other was trying to break down his resolution. Happily for the boy, the king heard of his mother's doings. In a fury he sent off the Marquis of Ormonde to Paris, who managed the disagreeable negotiation so well, that the queen at last said, ungraciously enough, "that the duke might dispose of himself as he pleased, and that she would not concern herself any further, nor see him any more."[107]

Lord Ormonde thereupon hastened to Pontoise, brought the duke away rejoicing at his release, and took him shortly after, to join the king in Flanders.

Henry now had some experience of warlike training; for during the next two or three years he and his brothers joined the French against the Spaniards. And when Cromwell's alliance with their French relatives made it impossible for them to keep up any further connection with the French Court, the young men joined Condé in the Spanish camp for a time. The Duke of Gloucester, however, soon tired of soldiering; and went back again to his books and his wise friends at Leyden, where he gained great renown by his retired, studious life, until another change came over the fortunes of his family.

In 1660 Cromwell was dead. England was weary of war and revolution—weary of army rule—and when Charles the Second signed the Declaration of Breda on April 4, the English nation was rejoiced to return to its natural government by King and Parliament. The Duke of Gloucester was at Breda when that famous Declaration was signed. He accompanied his brothers to England, and rode on the king's left hand in his triumphal entry into London on May 29.

Henry now proved that in prosperity, as in adversity, his love of work, almost the best gift that any young lad can possess, was as strong as ever. "He was active, and loved business, was apt to have particular friendships; and had an insinuating temper which was generally very acceptable."[108]The king was strongly attached to him, and was vexed when he saw that no post was left for this favorite brother; for Monk was General, and the Duke of York was in command of the Fleet. However, although Lord Clarendon considered the post was beneath his dignity, Henry begged to be made Lord Treasurer, "for he could not bear an idle life."

Alas! he only enjoyed this prosperous change in his fortune for four short months. "The mirth and entertainments" of the restoration, "raised his blood so high, that he took the smallpox." The ignorant physicians bled him three times, thus effectually taking away his last chance of recovery. And on September 13, 1660, this promising young prince died at Whitehall, the very palace where, eleven years before, his sad, broken father had been executed.

All the nation mourned the loss of the duke, for every one loved and admired him.

With his namesake Prince Henry he completed not twenty years, and what was said of the unkle, was as true of the nephew.

In searching at the British Museum a little while ago for documents concerning this prince, we came upon a mention under his name in the catalogue of "Some Teares." Curious to see what they were, we were told that the book which containedthem was too valuable to be brought into the great reading room, where hundreds of workers congregate in busy silence every day. So we were taken through locked doors into an inner sanctum; and there the precious document was intrusted to us. It was a large sheet of stiff paper, with wide black borders, and on it a long poem (of which I can only give a few lines) was printed, entitled,

SOME TEARES DROPT ON THE HERSE OF THE INCOMPARABLE PRINCE

HENRY DUKE OF GLOUCESTER.

FatalSeptemberto the Royal lineHas snatch'd one Heroë of our hopefulTrineFrom Earth; 'tis strange heaven should not prœdeclareA loss so grievous by someBlazing Star,Which might our senses overjoy'd, alarm,And time give to prepare for so great harm.He was Fair Fruit sprung from a Royal Bud,And grown as great by fair Renown as Blood;Ripe too too soon; for in a Youth so greenAn Harvest was of gray-haired Wisdome seen.Minerva'sDarling, Patron of the Gown,Lover of Learning, andApollo'sCrownHe was; the Muses he began to nourish,Learn'd men and arts under his wings did flourish.But lest we should commit Idolatry,Heav'n took him from our sight, not Memory.

He was Fair Fruit sprung from a Royal Bud,And grown as great by fair Renown as Blood;Ripe too too soon; for in a Youth so greenAn Harvest was of gray-haired Wisdome seen.

Minerva'sDarling, Patron of the Gown,Lover of Learning, andApollo'sCrownHe was; the Muses he began to nourish,Learn'd men and arts under his wings did flourish.But lest we should commit Idolatry,Heav'n took him from our sight, not Memory.

London:Printed byW. GodbidforHenry Bromeat theGuninIvy Lane, andHenry Marshat thePrinces ArmsinChancery-lanenearFleet-street, M.D.C.L.X.

As we handled the stiff old sheet with its black borders, and saw September 20, written in before the date in faded ink, we seemed to see the handsome, gentle, studious prince, borne out of the palace where the tragedy of his father's death was yet fresh in the minds of those who were rejoicing at the young king's restoration. We seemed to follow the sad procession down to the Abbey of Westminster, and watch him laid in the grave of his great-grandmother, beside his little sister Anna. And it saddened us to think of that gallant young lad cut off just when fortune smiled upon him after his lonely childhood, his stormy boyhood. But then we thought again of all he was saved from—ofthe corruption and evil-doing of his brother Charles's abominable court—of the troubles and disgraces of James the Second's reign. And the little chapel where he lies was transformed into a safe haven of refuge from evils far worse than death.

No monument is raised to his memory. But above his grave, Mary, Queen of Scots, with her proud beautiful face in scornful repose, lies under her splendid canopy, a fierce little Scotch lion crowned at her feet. And in the dim mysterious light that comes through the tiny diamond panes of the windows, we read words on her tomb that are indeed true of her great-grandson, Henry, Duke of Gloucester; and as we leave him here at rest we too say:

Bonæ MemoriæEt spei Æternæ.

FOOTNOTES:[94]"Fuller's Worthies." Vol. II. p. 108.[95]"English Princesses." M. A. Greene, p. 395.[96]Short view of the Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester, 1661, p. 16.[97]Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester. p. 17.[98]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester." p. 19.[99]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester."[100]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester."[101]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester."[102]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester." p. 26.[103]Ibid.[104]Ibid.[105]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester." p. 39.[106]"Somers' Civil Tract." p. 316.[107]"Somer's Civil Notes."[108]"Bishop Burnet's History of his own Time." Vol. I. p. 248.

[94]"Fuller's Worthies." Vol. II. p. 108.

[95]"English Princesses." M. A. Greene, p. 395.

[96]Short view of the Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester, 1661, p. 16.

[97]Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester. p. 17.

[98]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester." p. 19.

[99]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester."

[100]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester."

[101]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester."

[102]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester." p. 26.

[103]Ibid.

[104]Ibid.

[105]"Life of Henry, Duke of Gloucester." p. 39.

[106]"Somers' Civil Tract." p. 316.

[107]"Somer's Civil Notes."

[108]"Bishop Burnet's History of his own Time." Vol. I. p. 248.

From our childhood up we have all heard of "Good Queen Anne." When we were small tots in the nursery we sang little rhymes about

Queen Anne, Queen Anne, she sat in the sun.I send you three letters, you don't read one.

Then as we grew older we succumbed more or less to the rage for the eighteenth century which has laid hold on so large a section of English and Americans during the last few years. And we began to use Queen Anne's name in season and out of season—to talk glibly of Queen Anne architecture, Queen Anne furniture, and Queen Anne plate. The subject is doubtless an interesting one. And I for one am grateful to QueenAnne—or rather to the architects of her reign. Those stately red brick houses of her time, though they are far less graceful than Elizabethan mansions, and less romantic than the French chateaux of the same period with their high roofs, and charming tourelles with extinguisher tops, are among the most comfortable, homelike, lovable dwelling-places we can find in England.

The plate too of Queen Anne's reign is justly esteemed as the handsomest and richest that can be found. As I write a bit of veritable Queen Anne plate stands beside me on the table—a graceful little candlestick five inches high, of plain, solid silver. No need to look at its Hall-mark, or puzzle over its history; for the only ornament on its foot is an open-work pattern formed of roughly cut letters, "Queen Anne. 1702"; and on the rim above is engraved "His Highness Prince George. S.LS. Anno Dom. 1702."

The candlestick was a present from Queen Anne on her coronation, to a certain old ancestress of ours, who had been one of the ladies in attendance on the Queen's young son, WilliamHenry, Duke of Gloucester—the only one of her numerous children who lived beyond his babyhood.

This little boy, the last of our children of Westminster Abbey, was born on July 24, 1689. It was a memorable year in the history of England, for it had seen the great and bloodless revolution by which James the Second had been driven from Great Britain, and William the Third put on the throne. The misgovernment of James had become unbearable; and William, Prince of Orange, who had married the king's eldest daughter Mary, was invited "by a small party of ardent Whigs to assist in preserving the civil and religious liberties of the nation." William and Mary accepted the Declaration of Right, and were crowned as joint sovereigns on April 11, 1689. They had no children. So when Princess Anne, the Queen's sister, and wife of Prince George of Denmark, gave birth to her little boy in the following July, he was welcomed as the future King of England.

King William and the King of Denmark were the baby's godfathers. The marchioness of Halifax was his godmother. Queen Mary adoptedhim as her heir; and the king conferred upon him the title of Duke of Gloucester: but he was not created Duke "because his mother considered that title dreadfully unlucky."

But at first it seemed highly improbable that the poor child would live long. He was delicate from his birth—very small—and for two months his death was constantly expected. The doctors advised an incessant change of nurses; and the wretched baby, as was to be expected, grew weaker and weaker. At last, however, a fine-looking young Quakeress, a Mrs. Pack, with a month-old baby in her arms, came up from Kingston to tell the Princess Anne of a remedy which had done her children good. The Prince of Denmark besought her to become wet-nurse to the suffering little prince; and from that moment the unfortunate child began to thrive.

WESTMINSTER ABBEY, LOOKING TOWARD THE ALTAR. From etching by H. Toussaint.WESTMINSTER ABBEY, LOOKING TOWARD THE ALTAR. From etching by H. Toussaint.

Then came the question of the most healthy residence for the baby on whom so much depended. And Princess Anne at length chose Lord Craven's fine house at Kensington Gravelpits, which he offered to lend her for the little prince's nursery. He went out every day, no matter how cold it was, in a tiny carriage which the Duchess of Ormonde presented to him. The horses were in keeping with the size of the carriage; for they were a pair of Shetland ponies "scarcely larger than good-sized mastiffs," and were guided by Dick Drury, the Prince of Denmark's coachman.

The first two or three years of the little Duke of Gloucester's life were spent between Lord Craven's house at Kensington, and London. For in those days Kensington was a country village, out in the woods and fields. West of Mayfair there were no houses until Kensington was reached on the breezy slopes of Camden Hill. South Kensington, that vast quarter of handsome houses, has only come into existence in the last fifty years. The writer's grandfather was laughed at for going "out of town," when he and his old friend, Lord Essex, built themselves two of the first houses in Belgrave Square about 1830. And one of his sons-in-law, when a lad at Westminster School early in the century, remembers snipe-shooting in the marshes which separated Chelsea from London.

The Princess Anne and the queen were on exceedingly bad terms, the chief reason of their disagreement being Anne's passionate devotion to the famous Sarah Jennings, wife of the yet more famous Duke of Marlborough. The Marlboroughs, a clever, able, ambitious, unscrupulous pair, encouraged the jealousy between the sisters to secure their own ends, and at length formed a "Princess's party," which gave William the Third considerable trouble during his reign. The Queen insisted that Lady Marlborough, as she then was, should be dismissed from the Princess's service. Anne was equally determined to keep her beloved friend about her at all risks. This led to endless disputes and quarrels between the royal ladies; and the little Duke of Gloucester became a fresh subject of contention. When she was in town,

the Princess, who was a tender mother, passed much of her time in the nursery of her heir.... Whenever the Queen heard her sister was there she forebore to enter the room, but would send an inquiry or a message to her royal nephew—"a compliment," as it was called in the phraseology of the day. The set speech used to be delivered by the queen'sofficial in formal terms to the unconscious infant, as he sat on his nurse's knee; and then the courtly messenger would depart, without taking the slightest notice of the Princess Anne, although she was in the room with her child. Sometimes Queen Mary sent her nephew rattles or balls, or other toys, all which were chronicled in theGazettewith great solemnity; but every attention to the little Gloucester was attended with some signal impertinence to his mother.[109]

For two years the little boy throve well in the good air of Kensington, without any illness. But in the third year he was attacked by ague. Fifty years before he would probably have been bled and reduced in every way, and would speedily have died. But medical science was improving; and a wonderful discovery had been made in far-off Peru. The ague was cured by Doctor Radcliffe and Sir Charles Scarborough, "who prescribed the Jesuit's Powder, of which the Duke took large quantities early in the spring of 1694, for the same complaint most manfully."[110]

This Jesuit's Powder was none other than the famous Peruvian Bark, made as we all know from the bark of the Chinchona trees, so-called by Linnæus after the Countess of Chincon, wife of the Viceroy of Peru. This lady's cure in 1638 from a desperate fever, brought the quinine—the "bark-of-barks" as its Indian name signifies—into notice, and gave the world one of the most precious remedies we possess against disease.

This ague was the first, but by no means the last illness our poor little boy had to endure; for all through his short life he was delicate.

His faithful attendant, Jenkin Lewis, a young man who was tenderly attached to him, has left us a most interesting memoir of the young prince. And from this we get charming details of his daily life, his many illnesses, and his character.

When first he began to walk about and speak plain, he fancied he must be of all trades; one day a carpenter, another day a smith, and so on; which the queen observing sent him a box of ivory tools, said to cost twenty-five pounds, which he used till he learnt the names of them, and also the terms of those mechanical arts.[111]

THE OLD DORMITORY AT WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.THE OLD DORMITORY AT WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.

But from his infancy the little duke began to show his passion for horses, drums, and anything to do with soldiers. In 1693, when he was only four years old, he threw away childish toys, saying he was a man and a soldier. And he had up from Kensington village a little company of twenty-two boys, wearing paper caps and armed with wooden swords, who enlisted themselves as his guard. The duke was enchanted; and appointed a very pretty boy, Sir Thomas Lawrence's son, to be lieutenant. This little army was his constant delight. In a short time the child gained a realknowledge of military matters; and before long he began to use his bodyguard to some purpose. In 1694, seeing how active he was, and that "his stiff-bodied coats were very troublesome to him in his military amusements," the Prince and Princess put him into breeches on Easter Day.

His suit was a white camblet, with silver loops, and buttons of silver thread. He wore stiff stays under his waistcoat, which hurt him; whereupon, Mr. Hughes, his taylor, was sent for; when he came the duke bade his boys (whom he stiled his Horse Guards) put the taylor on the wooden horse, which stood in the presence-room for the punishment of offenders, as is usual in martial law: who presently were for hoisting him on, if they had had strength enough.[112]

It must have been an absurd scene. The little duke, not five years old, in his first pair of breeches, long waistcoat of white and silver, and coat with wide skirts and handsome, deep-cuffed sleeves—the bodyguard of small rogues setting on their victim—and the hapless tailor, who was so genuinely alarmed at these violent proceedings, that good-natured Jenkin had to beg him off.

A year or two later we find the duke going down to Kensington Palace, where he ordered his boys—now two companies numbering ninety in all, armed with wooden swords and muskets, and in red grenadiers' caps—to exercise in the garden before the king and queen. The king was delighted; and gave the young soldiers twenty guineas, besides two gold pieces which he presented to one of them, William Gardner, who beat the drum "equal to the ablest drummer." The next day, Sunday, the king sent word he was coming to visit his nephew. This was a great occasion, as the king very seldom came to see him. The duke prepared a pasteboard fortification, and got his four little brass cannon ready; and when the king arrived the boy was so engrossed in shewing him that he could salute him like a soldier and afterwards "compliment him," that he could not be persuaded to thank His Majesty first for coming. He fired his cannon, and he

then talked to the king of horses and arms, and thanked him of his own accord for the honor he did him in coming to see him. He told the king that one of his cannon wasbroke; the king promised to send him some cannon, but never did; the duke thanked him and complimented him in these words—"My dear king, you shall have both my companies with you to Flanders," where the king was to go soon after.[113]

All his talk was of wars, soldiers, and fortifications.

He was scarce seven years old when he understood the terms of fortification and navigation, knew all the different parts of a strong place, and a ship of war, and could marshall a company of boys, who had voluntarily listed themselves to attend him.... He had a particular aversion to dancing and all womanish exercises, his whole delight being in martial sports and hunting.[114]

Even when he was ill in bed he insisted on having his cannon drawn up in his sight, and made his servant stand sentinel at his door as in a fortress. The faithful Jenkin told him stories of Alexander and Cæsar, and on the sly studied the art of fortification, in order to teach the young duke more about it. But this was discovered by Lady Fitz Hardinge, who was the queen's spy in Princess Anne's household. Jenkin Lewis was threatened with instant dismissal if he ventured again to instruct the boy in matters with which he had no concern; and he was obliged regretfully to put away his fortification books. But he found a more allowable diversion in putting some of the young duke's words of command into verse, and had them set to music by Mr. John Church, "one of the gentlemen of Westminster Abbey, who had studied Mr. Henry Purcel's works and imitated his manner." It was not very grand poetry, but the little soldier was delighted. It begins—

Hark! hark! the hostile drum alarms;Let ours now beat and call to arms!

In 1696, after the discovery of the Rye House Plot, loyal addresses were offered to the king by both Houses of Parliament, and an association was formed to preserve King William or avenge his death, which was very generally signed throughout the kingdom. The Duke of Gloucester and his boys were eager to follow the public example.The duke composed an address which one of his boys wrote down as follows:

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