The Frivolous King.

Richard the Second was grandson of Edward the Third, and the only son of the celebrated Black Prince. He ascended the throne at the age of eleven, with every advantage that could be derived from the partiality of the people for his ill.u.s.trious ancestors. Especially the firmness and magnanimity of his father, and his union of goodness with greatness, won the favour of the historians of his times, who a.s.sert that he left a stainless honour and an unblemished name.

The young king, during an insurrection, gave some proofs of courage and presence of mind that impressed the nation favourably: and as he approached maturity, his graceful, majestic person awakened their admiration and pride. Had he by wise conduct and deportment confirmed these impressions, he might have swayed their affections, and firmly established himself in their love. But his demeanour was so light and frivolous, that he commanded no respect, while his self-confidence and contempt of wise counsel plunged him into misfortune. And as the mind that indulges itself in error is never stationary, he pa.s.sed from indolence to acts of injustice, and even of cruelty.

He banished for life the Duke of Norfolk, against whom no crime had been proved, and condemned to a ten years' exile the young Duke of Bolingbroke, against whom no offence had been alleged. The last named n.o.bleman was his own cousin, the son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, brother of the Black Prince. The aged father deeply mourned this disgrace and unjust punishment inflicted on his only son. Had not Richard been dest.i.tute of true sympathy, it would have grieved him to see his white-haired relative sinking in despondence, and mourning night and day for the absence of his son. Borne down by sorrow, and the infirmities of declining years, he died, and his large estates were immediately taken for the use of the crown.

The banished Bolingbroke, exasperated at the seizure of his paternal inheritance, returned before the term of his exile had expired. When he entered his native land, some followers joined him, and as he pa.s.sed onward, they increased to a formidable force. Richard was dilatory in his preparations to oppose them, and unfortunate in his encounters. He was defeated, and made prisoner by him who had once been the victim of his own tyranny.

The weather was cold and cheerless, when, on almost the last day of December, 1399, a strange and sad scene was exhibited in the streets of London. There, Bolingbroke, with the t.i.tle of Henry Fourth, appeared riding in great pomp, with a vast retinue, who filled the air with acclamations, followed by the drooping and degraded Richard, exposed to the insults of those who flattered or feared him in his day of power, and now spared not to cast dust and rubbish upon him. Shakspeare has given a most striking description of this entrance into the city, which seems to bring it before the eye like a picture.

Though the fickle throng showered their praises upon the fortunate monarch, there were some left to pity the fallen. He was kept a close prisoner in Pomfret Castle, and subjected to many sufferings and indignities. There he died, some historians say by the stroke of an axe, and others, by the slow torture of starvation.

From his untimely grave, a voice seems to rise, warning the young against the folly and rashness that were his ruin. Let them avoid this thoughtlessness and waste of time, and if they are ever tempted to frivolity, or contempt of the rights of others, remember what this prince might have been, and what he became, nor pa.s.s by this melancholy monument of blasted hope without learning a lesson of wisdom.

To a Pupil Leaving School.

Farewell! Farewell! Once more regain Your happy home, your native plain; Yet here, in Learning's cla.s.sic fane, None have discharg'd the allotted part With firmer zeal or fonder heart.

And true affection still shall hold Your image, set in Memory's gold.

Yet think, sweet friend, where'er you rove, That He who strews your path with love, Accords no boon of which to say, "'Tis light, go trifle it away."

No. Every fleeting hour survives; It seems to vanish, yet it lives; Though buried, it shall burst the tomb, And meet you at the bar of doom.

But _how_ it rises, _how_ appears, With smiles or frowns, with joys or fears.

And ah! what verdict then it bears, Rests on your labours, and your prayers.

Pious Princes.

The pomp with which royalty is surrounded must be unfavourable to a right education. Its proud expectations are often destructive to humility, and its flatteries blind the mind to a knowledge of itself.

Yet History records a few instances, where the young heart has escaped these dangers, and chosen truth for its guide, and wisdom as its portion. Here and there, we find one, whom the possession of an earthly crown did not deter from the pursuit of that which is incorruptible and eternal.

Josiah, the king of Judah, was one of these rare examples. He was born about the year six hundred and thirty-three, before the Christian era, and at the early age of eight was called to succeed his father on the throne. The temptations of kingly power, which are so often a hindrance to piety, seemed rather to dispose his heart to its influence, for the sacred historian records that in the eighth year of his reign, while he was yet young, "he began to seek after the G.o.d of David his father."

The religion of this young prince of sixteen soon unfolded itself in earnest deeds; the overthrow of idolatry, the repair of the Holy Temple, and the establishment of laws for the welfare of his people and realm.

Modern history, also, describes some young heirs of royalty, whom it is pleasant to contemplate. Conspicuous among these is Edward VI. of England, who began his reign in 1547, at the age of nine years. His mother died almost immediately after his birth, and until he was nearly seven he was under the care of females, whose virtues and accomplishments were calculated to make the happiest impression on his character. Thus, by the grace of G.o.d, was laid the foundation of that deep, tender, and consistent piety, that marked his conduct through life, and left him, at death, an unblemished fame.

In early childhood he discovered strong powers of mind, and a conscientious heart. His reverence for the Scriptures was remarkable.

Once, while playing with some infantine companions, he desired to reach an article that was considerably above their heads. So they moved a large book for him to stand upon. Scarcely had he placed his foot upon the covers when he saw it was the Bible. Instantly drawing back, he folded his arms around it and said seriously to his play-fellows, "Shall I trample under my feet that which G.o.d hath commanded me to treasure up in my heart?"

On his seventh birth-day he was placed under the tuition of learned men, to study such branches of knowledge as they considered best for him, among which were the Latin and French languages. He was docile to all their directions, and frequently expressed his grat.i.tude for their instructions. Letters elegantly written in Latin, at the age of eight, to his father, Henry Eighth, Queen Catharine Parr, his mother-in-law, and the Earl of Hertford, his uncle, are preserved as curiosities in the annals of those times.

At his coronation, being then nine years old, three swords were laid before him to signify that he was the monarch of three separate kingdoms.

"There is another sword yet wanting," said the child-prince, "one more, the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of G.o.d. Without that we are nothing, we can do nothing; we have no power. Through that, we are what we are, at this day. From that Book alone, we obtain all virtue and salvation, and whatever we have of divine strength."

Constancy and regularity in prayer was among his early traits of character. After he became a king, and was subject to the interruptions and temptations of a court, nothing could induce him to neglect his daily seasons of private devotion. One day, he was told, that Sir John Cheeke, who had given him lessons in Latin, when quite a young child, was dangerously sick. With deep solemnity on his countenance, he went to his stated retirement, and afterwards hearing that the physician had said there was little hope of his recovery, replied in the simple fervour of faith,

"Ah! but I think there is. For I have most earnestly begged of G.o.d, in my prayers, this morning, to spare him."

When the sufferer was restored to health, and informed of this circ.u.mstance, he was deeply touched by the grateful affection and confiding piety of his royal pupil.

Edward Sixth kept an exact diary of all the memorable events that pa.s.sed under his observation. The conferring of every office, civil or ecclesiastical, the receipts and expenditure of the revenue, the repairs or erection of forts, the sending forth or reception of amba.s.sadors, and indeed, all matters of business that occurred during his reign, were legibly recorded by his own hand, with their appropriate dates. This diary, which evinces industry and uprightness of purpose, is often quoted by historians.

But pulmonary consumption early made fatal inroads on his health, and he prepared for a higher and happier state with the benignity of one whose heart was already there. The following prayer, which is among those which he used as the close of life drew nigh, will show how much the progress of true religion among his people dwelt on his mind, when about to be taken from them:

"My Lord G.o.d! if thou wilt deliver me from this miserable and wretched life, take me among thy chosen. Yet, not _my_ will, but _Thy_ will be done. Lord I commit my spirit unto Thee. Thou knowest how happy it were for me to be with Thee. But if Thou dost send me life and health, grant that I may more truly serve Thee.

"Oh my G.o.d! save thy people, and bless thine inheritance. Preserve thy chosen realm of England, and maintain Thy true religion, that both king and people may praise Thy holy name, for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Edward Sixth died at the age of sixteen, July 6th, 1553, beloved and lamented by all over whom he had reigned.

The historians of France record, with high encomium, the virtues of one of their princes, a son of Louis Fifteenth, who died before his father.

He possessed a n.o.ble spirit, amiable manners, and in all the duties and sympathies of private life was so exemplary, that he was p.r.o.nounced by national enthusiasm, "too perfect to continue on earth." He was exceedingly attentive to the education of his children, and vigilant in guarding them against the pride and arrogance of royalty. He continually endeavoured to impress upon their minds, that though they had been placed by Heaven in an elevated station, yet virtue and religion were the only true and enduring distinctions. His death, which was deeply mourned by the nation over which he had expected one day to rule, took place on the 20th of December, 1765, when he had just attained the age of thirty-seven years.

He directed the preceptor of his children to take them to the abodes of the poor, and let them taste the coa.r.s.est bread, and lie down upon the hardest pallet, that they might know how the needy live, and learn to pity them.

"Ah! suffer them also to weep," he would say, "for a prince who has never shed tears for the woes of others can never make a good king."

Yes, take them to the peasant's cot, Where penury shrinks in pain and care, Spread to their view the humblest lot, And let them taste the coa.r.s.est fare,

And bid their tender limbs recline Upon the hard and husky bed, Where want and weary labour pine, Diseased, unpitied, and unfed;

And let them weep; for if their eyes With tender Pity ne'er o'erflow, How will they heed their subjects' signs, Or learn to feel a nation's woe?

Oh children! though your Maker's hand, Hath mark'd for you a lofty sphere, And though your welfare and command Are now to partial Gallia dear;

Yet many a child from lowliest shed, Whose peasant father turns the sod, May in the righteous day of dread Be counted _greater_ by his G.o.d.

Evils of War.

"From whence come wars and fightings?" James, iv. 1.

You will perhaps say they have been from the beginning. The history of every nation tells of the shedding of blood. In the Bible and other ancient records of man, we read of "wars and fightings," ever since he was placed upon the earth.