The Earl shook his head.
"It will be as G.o.d pleases, boy," and there, in the corridor, as he was hastening to his wife"s apartments, she came towards him with outstretched arms.
"Oh! my husband," she said, as he clasped her to his breast. "Oh! pity me, pity me! and pray G.o.d that I may find comfort."
"Yes, yes, my sweetheart," the Earl said, and then husband and wife turned into their own chamber, Will, subdued at the sight of his mother"s grief, not attempting to follow them, and Lucy was again alone.
CHAPTER XV
THE Pa.s.sING OF PHILIP
"Oh, Death, that hast us of much riches reft, Tell us at least what hast thou with it done?
What has become of him whose flower here left Is but the shadow of his likeness gone?
Scarce like the shadow of that which he was, Nought like, but that he like a shade did pa.s.s.
But that immortal spirit which was decked With all the dowries of celestial grace, By sovereign choice from heavenly choirs select And lineally derived from angel"s race; Oh, what is now of it become aread?
Ah me, can so divine a thing be dead!
Ah no, it is not dead, nor can it die, But lives for aye in blissful Paradise, Where, like a new-born babe it soft doth lie In bed of lilies wrapped in tender wise, And dainty violets from head to feet, And compa.s.sed all about with roses sweet."
From the _Lament of Sir Philip_ by MARY, COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE.
"At Arnhem, in the month of October 1586; this to my dear sister, Lucy Forrester." This was the endors.e.m.e.nt of a letter from Mary Gifford, which was put into Lucy"s hands on the day when a wave of sorrow swept over the country as the news was pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth that Sir Philip Sidney was dead.
There had been so many alternations of hope and fear, and the official reports from the Earl of Leicester had been on the hopeful side, while those of Robert Sidney and other of his devoted friends and servants, had latterly been on the side of despair.
Now Mary Gifford had written for Lucy"s information an account of what had pa.s.sed in these five-and-twenty days, when Sir Philip lay in the house of Madame Gruithuissens, ministered to by her uncle, Master George Gifford.
The letter was begun on the seventeenth of October, and finished a few days later, and was as follows:--
"After the last news that I have sent you, dear sister, it will not be a surprise to you to learn that our watching is at an end. The brave heart ceased to beat at two of the clock on this seventeenth of October in the afternoon.
"It has been a wondrous scene for those who have been near at hand to see and hear all that has pa.s.sed in the upper chamber of Madame Gruithuissens"
house.
"I account it a privilege of which I am undeserving, that I was suffered, in ever so small a way, to do aught for his comfort by rendering help to Madame Gruithuissens in the making of messes to tempt the sick man to eat, and also by doing what lay in my power to console those who have been beside themselves with grief--his two brothers.
"What love they bore him! And how earnestly they desire to follow in his steps I cannot say.
"Mr Robert was knighted after the battle which has cost England so dear, and my uncle saith that when he went first to his brother"s side with his honour fresh upon him, Sir Philip smiled brightly, and said playfully,--
""Good Sir Robert, we must see to it that we treat you with due respect now," and then, turning to Mr Thomas, he said, "Nor shall your bravery be forgot, Thomas, as soon as I am at Court again. I will e"en commend my youngest brother to the Queen"s Highness. So we will have three knights to bear our father"s name."
"At this time Sir Philip believed he should live, and, indeed, so did most of those who from day to day watching his courage and never-failing patience; the surgeon saying those were so greatly in his favour to further his recovery. But from that morning when he himself discerned the signs of approaching death, he made himself ready for that great change. Nay, Lucy, methinks this readiness had been long before a.s.sured.
"My uncle returned again and again from the dying bed to weep, as he recounted to me and my boy the holy and beautiful words Sir Philip spake.
"Of himself, only humbly; of all he did and wrote, as nothing in G.o.d"s sight. His prayers were such that my uncle has never heard the like, for they seemed to call down the presence of G.o.d in the very midst of them.
"He was troubled somewhat lest his mind should fail him through grievous wrack of pain of body, but that trouble was set at rest.
"To the very end his bright intelligence shone, even more and more, till, as we now believe, it is shining in the perfectness of the Kingdom of G.o.d.
"On Sunday evening last, he seemed to revive marvellously, and called for paper and pencil. Then, with a smile, he handed a note to his brother, Sir Robert, and bade him despatch it to Master John Wier, a famous physician at the Court of the Duke of Cleves.
"This note was wrote in Latin, and begged Master Wier to _come_, and _come_ quick. But soon after he grew weaker, and my good uncle asking how he fared, he replied sorrowfully that he could not sleep, though he had besought G.o.d to grant him this boon. But when my uncle reminded him of One who, in unspeakable anguish, prayed, as it would seem to our poor blind eyes, in vain, for the bitter cup did not pa.s.s, said,--
""Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt!" he exclaimed."
""I am fully satisfied and resolved with this answer. No doubt it is even so."
"There were moments yet of sadness, and he reproached himself for cherishing vain hopes in sending for Master Wier, but my uncle comforted him so much that at length he p.r.o.nounced these memorable words, "I would not change my joy for the empire of the world."
"I saw him from time to time as I brought to the chamber necessary things.
Once or twice he waved his hand to me, and said, oh, words ne"er to be forgot,--
""I rejoice you have your boy safe once more, Mistress Gifford. Be wary, and train him in the faith of G.o.d, and pray that he be kept from the trammels with which Papacy would enthral the soul."
"He showed great tenderness and care for Lady Frances, dreading lest she should be harmed by her constant attendance on him.
"Sweet and gentle lady! I have had the privilege of waiting on her from time to time, and of giving her what poor comfort lay in my power.
"After the settlement of his worldly affairs, Sir Philip asked to have the last ode he wrote chanted to him, but begged that all the stray leaves of the _Arcadia_ should be gathered together and burned. He said that it was but vanity and the story of earthly loves, and he did not care to have it outlive him.
"My uncle was with him when he begged Sir Robert to leave him, for his grief could not be controlled. While the sufferer showed strength in suppressing sorrow, the strong man showed weakness in expressing it.
"Much more will be made known of these twenty-five days following the wound which caused our loss.
"For myself, I write these scanty and imperfect details for my own comfort, in knowing that they will be, in a sad sort, a comfort to you, dear sister, and, I might humbly hope, to your lady also.
"My uncle, praying by Sir Philip"s side, after he had addressed his farewell to his brother, seeing him lie back on the pillow as if unconscious, said, "Sir, if you hear what I say, let us by some means know if you have inward joy and consolation of G.o.d."
"Immediately his hand, which had been thought powerless, was raised, and a clear token given to those who stood by that his understanding had not failed him.
"Once more, when asked the same question, he raised his hands with joined palms and fingers pointing upwards as in prayer--and so departed.
"I wrote so far, and now I have been with my boy watching the removal of all that is mortal of this great and n.o.ble one from Arnhem to Flushing, convoyed to the water"s edge by twelve hundred English soldiers, trailing their swords and muskets in the dust, while solemn music played.
"The surgeons have embalmed the poor, worn body, and the Earl of Leicester has commanded that it be taken to England for burial.