1549 PHILIP DE MORNAY. PHILIP DE MORNAY, Lord of Plessis Marly, a French nobleman, illustrious both for rank and valor, was born November 5th, 1549. Mas Descended from an ancient family, which had produced other distinguished characters, he was educated with the greatest care. ters in various languages and sciences were provided for him, and his proficiency was what might have been expected from superior talents and rigid application. With his earliest training, his mother instilled into him the purest principles of integrity and benevolence. She inspired him also with her own deep love of the Protestant faith, ligence to his daughter with a faltering voice and disturbed countenance. serenity she replied But with perfect "These words are more pleasant to me, than those in which you bade me be a queen. In obeying them, I did violence to my nature, and deeply sinned. Gladly now will I make all the reparation in my power, for the injustice. of which I have been guilty." Yet the relinquishment of the sceptre was not deemed a sufficient expiation; and her heart was agonized at the calamities to her kindred, of which she had been the unoffending cause. Her father and father-in-law were arrested, and the latter brought to the block. The whole family of the Duke of Northumberland were thrown into prison; and thither she herself, with her husband, were remanded, after having received sentence of death. This young and beautiful creature, so full of gentleness and sensibility, now exhibited a serene and heroic fortitude. Conscious rectitude and piety that saw beyond the grave a brighter home, enabled her in this fearful. adversity, to be the comforter of others. No gloom shaded her countenance, no murmur escaped her lips. Life, and its enjoyments, were dear, but the will of God was not only submitted to with resignation, but welcomed with benignity. Her imprisonment was cheered by acts and offices of devotion. From one of her writtten prayers, which has been preserved, we extract the closing sentences 66 Gird me, I beseech Thee, with thine armor, that I may stand fast; having on the breast-plate of righteousness, and the shoes of the gospel of peace. Above all things, may I take the shield of faith, and the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit, which is thy Holy Word. Praying always, that I may refer myself wholly to thy will, abide in thy pleasure, and thus find comfort in all the troubles which it shall please thee to send me, seeing that such troubles are profitable for my soul, and being assuredly persuaded that all thou dost must be well." This confidence in God, was recompensed by perfect peace. The last night of her life she wrote a farewell letter to her sister, and sent her a Greek Testament, as a memorial of parting affection. "As to my death, good sister, rejoice with me, that I shall so soon be delivered from this corruptible life, and put on immortality. I pray God to send you his grace, that you may live in his fear, and die in the true Christian faith, from which I exhort you never to swerve, either for any hope of life or fear of death." The following lines were found traced with a pin, on the walls of her cell: "Think not, Oh mortal, vainly gay That thou from human woes art free; To-morrow may be drained by thee. The 12th of February, 1554, was the time appointed for the execution of her husband and herself. With the early light of that fatal morning, he sent to request a farewell interview. But she felt that such a meeting would distress them both, and impair the fortitude requisite for the awful state that awaited them, by quickening a love of that life they were so soon to leave. Denying her own desires once more to see him whom she tenderly loved, she returned a dissuasive message. "Such a meeting would add to our affliction. It would disturb the quiet with which we should arm our souls for the stroke of death. Defer it till a few moments have passed. Then we shall meet where unions are severed no more, if we carry nothing terrestrial with us, to hinder that eternal rejoicing." When the beloved of her soul was led by to the scaffold, she testified strong and involuntary emotion. But suppressing it, with surprising self-command, she gave him her farewell from the window, and like one whose treasures were now in heaven, prepared to follow him. In a brief space, his bleeding form, stretched upon a car, and his severed head, wrapped in a linen cloth, were borne by under the same window. She gazed on the fearful spectacle immovably, as one with whom the bitterness of death was past. Then without any tremulousness of hand, she inscribed in her table-book a few lines, which the presented to the Lieutenant of the Tower, |