Part 7 (2/2)

was borne by n.o.blemen. The Archbishop of Canterbury christened the little princess. Her G.o.dparents 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]

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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, and great 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.

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