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not be persuaded to desist, she turned away from him, and falling on her knees, prayed fervently aloud-repeating, in particular, many passages from the Psalms. She prayed for her own soul, and that God would send His Holy Spirit to comfort her in the agony of death ; she prayed for all good monarchs, for the Queen of England, for the king her son, for her friends, and for all her enemies. She spoke with a degree of earnest vehemence and occasional strength of gesticulation which deeply affected all who heard her. She held a small crucifix in her hands, which were clasped and raised to heaven; and at intervals a convulsive sob choked her voice. As soon as her prayers were ended, she prepared to lay her head on the block. Her two female attendants, as they assisted her to remove her veil and headdress, trembled so violently that they were hardly able to stand. Mary gently reproved them—“Be not thus overcome,” she said; “I am happy to leave the world, and you also ought to be happy to see me die so willingly.” As she bared her neck, she took from around it a gold cross, which she wished to give to Jane Kennedy; but the executioner with brutal coarseness objected, alleging that it was one of his perquisites. “My good friend,” said Mary, “she will pay you more than its value”; but his only answer was, to snatch it rudely from her hand. She turned from him to pronounce a parting benediction on all her servants, and bid them affectionately farewell. Being now ready, she desired Jane Kennedy to bind her eyes with a rich handkerchief, bordered with gold, which she had brought with her for the purpose ; and laying her head upon the block, her last words were, “ O Lord, in Thee I have hoped, and into Thy hands I commit my spirit.” The executioner, either from a want of skill, or from agitation, or because the axe he used was blunt, struck three blows before he separated her head from her body. His comrade then lifted the head by the hair (which falling in disorder, was observed to be quite gray), and called out, “God save Elizabeth, Queen of England !” The Earl of Kent added, “Thus perish all her enemies”; but, overpowered by the solemnity and horror of the scene, none were able to respond, “ Amen!”
Mary's remains were immediately taken from her servants, who wished to pay them the last sad offices of affection, and were carried into an adjoining apartment, where a piece of green baize, taken from a billiard-table, was thrown over that form which had once lived in the light of a nation's eyes. It lay thus for some time; but was at
length ordered to be embalmed, and buried with royal pomp in the cathedral at Peterborough-a vulgar artifice used by Elizabeth to stifle the gnawing remorse of her own conscience, and make an empty atonement for her cruelty. Twenty-five years afterward, James VI., wishing to perform an act of tardy justice to the memory of his mother, ordered her remains to be removed from Peterborough to Henry VII.'s chapel in Westminster Abbey.
Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, died in the fortyfifth year of her age. The estimate which is to be formed of her character can not be a matter of much doubt. The deliberate judgment of calm impartiality, not of hasty enthusiasm, must be, that, illustrious as her birth and rank were, she possessed virtues and talents which not only made her independent of the former, but raised her above them. In her better days, the vivacity and sweetness of her manners, her openness, her candor, her generosity, her polished wit, her extensive information, her cultivated taste, her easy affability, her powers of conversation, her native dignity and grace were all conspicuous, though too little appreciated by the less refined frequenters of the Scottish Court. Nor did she appear to less advantage in the season of calamity. On the contrary, she had an opportunity of displaying in adversity a fortitude and nobility of soul, which she herself might not have known that she possessed had she been always prosperous. Her piety and her constancy became more apparent in a prison than on a throne ; and of none could it be said more truly than of her, “ponderibus virtus innata resistit.” In the glory of victory and the pride of success, it is easy for a conquering monarch to float down the stream of popularity ; but it is a far more arduous task to gain a victory over the natural weaknesses of one's own nature, and in the midst of sufferings to triumph over one's enemies. Mary did this, and was a thousand times more to be envied when kneeling at her solitary devotions in the castle of Fotheringay, than Elizabeth surrounded with all the heartless splendor of Hampton Court. As she laid her head upon the block, the dying graces threw upon her their last smiles ; and the sublime serenity of her death was an argument in her favor, the force of which must be confessed by incredulity itself. Mary was not destined to obtain the crown of England, but she gained instead the crown of martyrdom.
MY DEAR — : My present letter will be given to a single figure. When I entered at Oxford, John Henry Newman was beginning to be famous. The responsible authorities were watching him with anxiety ; clever men were looking with interest and curiosity on the apparition among them of one of those persons of indisputable genius who was likely to make a mark upon his time. His appearance was striking. He was above the middle height, slight and spare. His head was large, his face remarkably like that of Julius Cæsar. The forehead, the shape of the ears and nose were almost the same. The lines of the mouth were very peculiar, and I should say exactly the same. I have often thought of the resemblance, and believed that it extended to the temperament. In both there was an original force of character which refused to be molded by circumstances, which was to make its own way, and become a power in the world; a clearness of intellectual perception, a disdain for conventionalities, a temper imperious and