Among the examples of noble Sister-hood, a prominent place must be given to the illustrious lady remembered by the above designation, Mary Sidney, afterwards Countess of Pembroke. Whether we have regard to her sweetness of disposition, her piety, her lofty and cultured intellect, her devotion to duty, or her singularly close attachment to her famous brother, her life is one of great interest. A few threads of it may be fittingly woven together, prominence being given to her character of Sister.

She was born in a famous age, of a noble stock. It has been observed that "no period of the English history is more richly adorned with examples of genuine worth, than the golden age of Queen Elizabeth. It was an age of reviving literature, when men began to be esteemed according to their wisdom."

Mary Sidney was the daughter of Sir Henry Sidney, Lord Deputy of Ireland and Lord President of Wales, who had married Lady Mary, eldest daughter of John, Duke of Northumberland, who was, along with his son, Lord Guilford Dudley, beheaded for devotion to the cause of the noble, but ill-fated, Lady Jane Grey.

In such parentage Mary Sidney could not but be blessed. Her father had been the close friend and companion of the youthful King, Edward VI., who had expired in his arms. He appears to have been as distinguished for his learning as for the virtues which marked his private life, and the rectitude which characterised the discharge of his public duties. Of the mother of Mary Sidney it has been said that "she was not less distinguished in her sphere; one indeed, if not of equal splendour and publicity with that in which her husband moved, yet to her children, and, through her example to the world at large, no less useful and honourable; for with abilities every way adequate to the task of instruction, and with a devotedness and sense of duty which rendered her exertions a never-failing source of gratification and delight, she gave up her time almost exclusively to the early education of her offspring, superintending not only their initiation into the principles of religion and virtue, but directing their studies, and regulating, and even partaking in, their sports and relaxations."

Mary Sidney was born in or about the year 1557, at the historic castle of Penshurst, in Kent. It had been granted by King Edward VI. to Sir William Sidney, the grandfather of Mary. Ben Jonson has left a pleasant description of Mary's birth-place, in reference to which he says:—

Mary Sidney was two or three years younger than her brother Philip, to whom she became such a loving and devoted companion, and upon whose character and life she exercised such a powerful influence. Being a child of rare natural endowments, it can be well understood that, brought up in such a home, and under the immediate care of such parents, who appreciated learning at its true value and for its own sake, she early exhibited those charms and accomplishments which rendered her conspicuous among the learned, and her society courted by the greatest of that brilliant age. In all probability her early training was conducted side by side with that of her brother Philip. With minds and dispositions cast in similar moulds, kindred influences began early to work towards the formation of their young lives. Learning the same lessons, reading the same books, and with the like wise and loving counsels instilled into their receptive minds, they grew up with only such loving rivalry as tended to stimulate their exertions and cement their friendship. We can imagine how, their youthful tasks performed, they would wander forth hand-in-hand in the grounds of Penshurst, making the ancient woods ring with their merry laughter. Or, sauntering by the waters of the Medway, would, after the manner of thoughtful children, speculate on the future, weaving bright dreams of happiness in store, and making vows of eternal friendship.

We have some knowledge of how well Philip and his sister availed themselves of the advantages conferred upon them by the self-denying devotion of their mother. Her example is, in its results, full of encouragement to those parents who, having the ability, find also the opportunity of personally instructing their young children. It has been said that "English history can scarcely show two characters more thoroughly good and amiable than were Philip Sidney and his sister." We do not gather grapes where thorns have been sown. There is yet something to be learnt from the example of the Hebrew mothers, who had the sole charge of their children until they were five years old. Even then the girls remained the especial care of their mother, who still continued also to take part in the education of the boys. We find King Lemuel paying a tribute of filial remembrance in, after many years, recording the words "that his mother taught" him.

At the age of about twelve years, however, Philip was sent to school at Shrewsbury. It was about this time that his father, so impressed with the beauty of his disposition and the zeal he displayed for learning, styled him Lumen familiae sue—the ornament of his family. A letter written by Sir Henry to his son affords a pleasant insight into the character of the writer, and embodies advice which would adorn any page. The following is an extract:—

To this letter the Lady Mary wrote a postscript full of wise and tender sympathy, in which she speaks of her desire that God shall plant in him His grace, and advises him to read over every four or five days the "excellent counsels" of his father.

It is needless to say how well young Philip appreciated and availed himself of the advice of his wise parents and the opportunities afforded him of advancement. During the time of his stay at Shrewsbury the official duties of his father as Lord President of the Marches of Wales necessitated his residence at Ludlow Castle, where Philip would have many opportunities of visiting and of enjoying the society of his beloved sister.

At an early age Philip went to Oxford, and subsequently to Cambridge. His reputation for learning at the former University was such that his tutor, Dr. Thomas Thornton, himself a man of remarkable learning, desired to have it recorded on his tomb that he had been the tutor of Sir Philip Sidney when at Oxford.

After his distinguished career at the Universities, Mr. Philip Sidney, wishing for the advantages to be gained by Continental residence and travel, applied to the Sovereign for permission. Accordingly, in 1572, we find him proceeding to visit various countries on the Continent. During this residence abroad so great was his reputation for learning and integrity, and so engaging his manners, that he formed lasting friendships with some of the most notable men of the age. Returning to England in May, 1575, Philip soon became one of the greatest ornaments and favourites of the brilliant Court of Queen Elizabeth, who showed him many tokens of her appreciation. Among other important trusts committed to him by his astute Sovereign was his appointment in 1576, when, it should be remembered, he was only twenty-two years of age, as Ambassador to the Court of the Emperor of Austria upon a mission requiring the exercise of considerable skill and judgment.

Meanwhile, Sidney's sister Mary grew up into bright and happy womanhood. The charms of her person were only equalled by the sweetness and amiability of her disposition, and the extraordinary culture of her mind. Among the many ladies of the time distinguished for their attainments Mary Sidney was prominent. The Queen herself set a worthy example. Having had for tutor the celebrated Roger Ascham, she had from her youth been devoted for learning, and herself spoke five languages. Her Court was adorned by the presence of many ladies of great distinction, but to Mary Sidney seems to have been awarded the palm, both for learning and true excellence of character. A portrait of her in Lodge's "Portraits of Illustrious Personages," from an original of Mark Gerard, representing her in her young womanhood, shows her to have been a person of an unusually gracious presence. The soft, wavy hair fringes a broad and high forehead, beneath which beams an eye soft and clear. The countenance is pleasing and expressive; the well-moulded and regular features present an appearance of repose and sweet thoughtfulness, which seem to bespeak the inward harmony of a well-balanced mind—the full, but not too prominent, lip ready to break into a smile. She appears, indeed, to have been gifted with that singular attractiveness, which in its compelling persuasiveness acts as a magnet. Some countenances there are which the thoughts and affections of years have carved and moulded into a beauty which reveals the heart to be full of human tenderness. Such were the Sidneys. Mary closely resembled her brother, not only in mind, but also in feature. Spenser speaks of her as

It is not the lapse of time only that has cast a halo over this interesting pair. The most extravagant applause came from their contemporaries. Though some incidents of the life of Sidney himself reveal a hastiness of temper which show him to have been very far from perfection, he had at the same time such an equable combination of that nameless attractiveness of manner, which, with his virtues and attainments, made him admired and loved with an almost unequalled warmth, devotion, and constancy. While it has been said of Sidney that his "intemperance" (or hastiness) was the sole defect in his character, we do not find such a blemish in his sister. Beauty of feature and grace of manner did not in Mary Sidney complete the charm of contact, but only mirrored the indwelling soul, whence radiated

Before Mary Sidney was twenty years of age her hand was sought in marriage by Henry Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, to whom she was married in the year 1576. This match afforded considerable satisfaction to her father, as we see from a letter by him to his kinsman, the Earl of Leicester, whose good offices he was obliged to ask for the purpose of raising a dowry for his daughter. This letter rather painfully reminds us that it is not always the most deserving who, even in high places, receive their deserts. A servant less conscientious and faithful than Sir Henry would have found means of making his claims known, and would not have been allowed to endure the privations of poverty. After referring to the pleasure which the alliance would afford him, he says: "I have so joyfully at heart this happy advancement of my child that I would lie a year in prison rather than it should break. But, alas! my dearest lord, mine ability answereth not my hearty desire. I am poor; mine estate, as well in livelod and movable, is not unknown to your lordship, which wanteth much to make me able to equal that which I know my Lord of Pembroke may have. Two thousand pounds, I confess, I have bequeathed her, which your lordship knoweth I might better spare her when I were dead than one thousand living; and, in troth, my Lord, I have it not; but borrow it I must, and I will: and if your Lordship will get me leave, that I may feed my eyes with that joyful sight of their coupling, I will give her a cup worth five hundred pounds. Good, my Lord, bear with my poverty; for, if I had it, little would I regret any sum of my own, but would willingly give it, protesting before Almighty God, that if He and all the powers on earth would give me my choice for a husband for her, I would choose the Earl of Pembroke."

The Earl of Leicester very generously provided his young kinswoman with a handsome dowry, and, the desired marriage taking place, Wilton House, the seat of the Pembrokes, thenceforth became the principal home of the young Countess.

The life of Mary Sidney had hitherto been one of influence rather than event. Her marriage did not tend to alter its character, so much as to widen its circle and extend its sphere. Exemplary and dutiful as a daughter, loving and helpful as a sister, she could hardly fail to be a devoted and faithful wife. Although her rank entitled her to a prominent place at Court, where she was ever a favourite, her inclination and tastes led her to prefer the retirement of the study, and the society of the learned rather than the great. If history is silent as to a large portion of her life, we may be sure it is a silence which speaks of "duties well performed and days well spent."

On the return of Mr. Philip Sidney from the Continent, in 1577, he made it one of his first duties to pay a visit to his sister in her new home, before entering more fully into public life, which his station and family interests demanded. It is, however, in his character as a scholar and patron of letters that he will be the most lovingly remembered. The friend of Raleigh, Spenser, Dyer, and others of not much less renown, it has been also said of him that "there was not a cunning painter, a skilful engineer, an excellent musician or any other artificer of extraordinary fame, that did not make himself known to this famous spirit, and found in him his true friend without hire."

A temporary retirement of Mr. Philip Sidney from Court in the year 1580, has been assigned to different causes. During the previous year the Duke of Anjou had so far pressed his suit for the hand of Elizabeth that she had shown an inclination to accept it. Opinions at Court were divided on the subject. Mr. Sidney, amongst others, was decidedly opposed to the alliance, as being likely to endanger the religious and civil liberty of the country. He had even the boldness to address to the Queen a strong, though courteous and elegant, remonstrance. To this some have attributed the fact that the negotiations for the match were broken off. It has been said that this action of Sidney did not give the smallest offence to the Queen; and that the reason for his subsequent early retirement is to be found in his quarrel with the Earl of Oxford. Others have fixed an earlier date for the last-named event, and trace the removal from Court to the resentment of the Queen at Sidney's interference with her proposed marriage. Whether Elizabeth openly resented the conduct of Sidney or not, she was hardly likely to forget it. The probability seems to be that the letter would arouse the secret indignation of the Queen, which only waited a suitable opportunity for showing itself. The opportunity arose for the Royal favour to be for a time withdrawn on the occasion of a misunderstanding between Sidney and the Earl of Oxford. In the early part of the last-mentioned year, however, Sidney retired from the Court, going to reside at the seat of his brother-in-law, the Earl of Pembroke. Here he regained the society of his beloved and like-minded sister; their happy intercourse was renewed, and mutual help afforded. In the solitudes of the Wilton Woods, at this time, their joint literary work was planned, and in great part performed. The extent of their mutual aid, and the exact part performed by each, will never be known. Although the whole of the beautiful romance, The Arcadia, is attributed to Philip, it is certain that his sister had no insignificant part in advising and directing it, so much so that he gave to it the name of "The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia." The introduction is a pleasing record of their loving devotion and a testimony of fraternal gratitude:—

If the work was roughly completed by Philip, the duty remained for his sister, with loving melancholy, to revise and prepare it for the press after his death.

It appears to have been, also, at this time that Sidney and his sister commenced their joint work of translating the Psalms into English verse, to which it will be necessary to refer later.

Before alluding to the other literary labours of the Countess of Pembroke, reference may be made to the few remaining years of the life of her brother. Towards the close of the year we find him again at Court, and sitting in Parliament for his native county. Although holding the office of Cup Bearer to the Queen, he does not seem to have received any distinct marks of the Royal favour for some years. In fact, his family was neglected, and especially so his father, who had become impoverished through his disinterested devotion to the Crown. In the early part of 1583, however, Philip received from Her Majesty the honour of knighthood, together with benefits of a more substantial character. About the same time he married the daughter of the distinguished statesman, Sir Francis Walsingham.

It was about two years later, when Sir Philip was yet only in the flower of his manhood and the height of his fame, that he received the appointment which led to his early death. The President of the Netherlands, having applied to the English Queen for help against the Duke of Alva, she sent an expedition under the Earl of Leicester, Sir Philip being appointed General of the Horses and Governor of Flushing. Thither he repaired in the month of November, 1585, leaving his young and devoted wife (who had only shortly before given birth to a daughter) in England. In his character as a soldier, Sir Philip was as conscientious and brave as he was distinguished as a scholar and diplomatist; but he was not therein so happy. Entering with marked zeal and energy upon his duties, he conducted the campaign with considerable success in spite of many difficulties.

The year 1586 proved to be one of successive sorrows to the Countess of Pembroke. Her earliest affections had never waned. Blessed with such parents and brothers as she was, life without them could never be the same to her; and the rapidity with which the strokes of bereavement followed each other gave no room for Time's healing power to intervene. The first shock was sustained in the month of May by the death of her father. But three months later her mother finished her brave, devoted, and self-sacrificing life. However opinions may have differed as to her husband, no word seems to have been spoken or written of Lady Mary but in terms of the highest praise. "Born," says a competent authority, "of the noblest blood, surviving ambitious relatives who reached at royalty and perished, losing health and beauty in the service of an exacting Queen, suffering poverty at Court, supporting husband and children through all trials with wise counsel and sweet hopeful temper, she emerges with pale lustre from all the actors of that time to represent the perfect wife and mother in a lady of unpretending, but heroic, dignity."1 This is the mother whom we find mirrored in her illustrious daughter.

This double bereavement, whilst her brother was still at Flushing, could not fail to have fallen heavily on the Countess. But this was not all. The close bonds which bound together brother and sister, not only in the most loving sympathy, but in interests and pursuits they both loved best, were destined to be rudely broken. Within two months came tidings of the disastrous events attending the siege of Zutphen and the scene of generous chivalry, which from its solitary grandeur has become familiar history. It was on the 22nd September, when Sir Philip was endeavouring to stop a reinforcement of the enemy on the way to Zutphen, that he received a wound in the thigh which subsequently proved fatal. He had displayed great valour, having twice had his horse shot under him and a third time returned to the charge. Here occurred the incident that, so well known, cannot be too often repeated. As Sir Philip was being taken from the field, weak and exhausted through loss of blood, he wished some water to be brought to him. As he was, however, in the act of raising the precious flask to his lips, his attention was drawn to a dying soldier, whose gaze was fixed longingly upon it. To this poor soldier he instantly handed the coveted beverage, saying, "Thy necessity is greater than mine."

As all the world knows, Sidney's wound proved fatal. After much suffering, borne with exemplary fortitude and resignation, he died in the arms of his faithful wife, who had joined him some time before, on the 7th October, 1586, while still only in the thirty-third year of his age. So greatly was his loss felt that the whole country went into mourning for him. His remains were brought to England and interred in St. Paul's Cathedral. It is said that no gentleman appeared in any gay or gaudy dress, either in the City or at the Court, for many months.

The poets and scholars of that cultured period vied with each other in speaking in praise of the departed. As he was so entirely one in heart with his twin-souled sister, the more immediate subject of this sketch, one of these may be selected by way of illustration. Camden, writing of him, says: "Philip Sidney, the great glory of his family, the great hopes of mankind, the most lively pattern of virtue, and the darling of the world, nobly engaging the enemy at Zutphen in Guelderland, lost his life bravely and valiantly. This is that Sidney whom, as Providence seems to have sent into the world to give the present age a specimen of the ancients, so did it on a sudden recall him, and snatch him from us, as more worthy of heaven than of earth. Thus when virtue has come to perfection it presently leaves us, and the best things are seldom lasting. Rest, then, in peace, O Sidney! if I may be allowed this address. We will not celebrate thy memory with tears, but with admiration. Whatever we loved best in thee (as the best of authors speaks of the best governor of Britain), whatever we admire in thee continues and will continue in the memories of men, the revolutions of ages, and the annals of time. Many, as being inglorious and ignoble, are buried in oblivion; but Sidney shall live to all posterity. For, as the Greek poet has it, Virtue is beyond the reach of fate."

An elegy, entitled, "The Doleful Lay of Clorinda," included by Spenser in his "Astrophel," and by him ascribed to the Countess of Pembroke, affords an example of her own writing and an intimation of the way in which she bore her irreparable loss. A few stanzas only can be quoted:—

Of the life of the Countess of Pembroke subsequently to the death of her brother there is not much to be gleaned. Her chief immediate care was to complete and prepare for publication the manuscripts left by him. This labour of love she doubtless found to be one of sweet melancholy, which served, if anything could do, to endear still more his memory. It is stated that Sir Philip, on his death-bed, expressed a desire that the Arcadia should be committed to the flames. But, with a greater regard for his reputation than a simple compliance with his desire would have evinced, his sister lovingly undertook the task of revising, correcting, and completing this work. How much we are indebted to the pruning and shaping of the gentler hand we do not know. She carefully removed all blemishes, which, though not uncommon in the literature of the time, could not but offend her more refined sense of delicacy. It is, indeed, probable that the share of the sister in the romance is much larger than has been commonly supposed. In an address prefixed to some earlier editions it is said: "It moved that noble lady, to whose honour consecrated, to whose protection it was committed, to take in hand the wiping away those spots wherewith the beauties thereof were unworthily blemished. But as often repairing a ruinous house, the mending of some old part occasioneth the making of some new, so here her honourable labour began in correcting the faults, indeed in supplying the defects; by view of what was ill done, guided to the consideration of what was not done. Which part, with what advice entered into, most by her doing, all by her directing, if they may be entreated not to divine, which are unfurnished of means to discern, the rest, it is hoped, will favourably censure." "It is now," adds the writer, "by more than one interest, the Countess of Pembroke's 'Arcadia,' done, as it was, for her, as it is, by her. Neither shall these pains be the last (if no unexpected accident cut off her determination) which the everlasting love of her excellent brother will make her consecrate to his memory."

The "Arcadia" was, according with the intention thus expressed, not the only memorial of the loving sympathy of the Countess of Pembroke and her brother. In addition to their joint translation of the Psalter, Sir Philip, at the time of his death, had almost completed a translation from the French of a work by his friend Philip de Mornay Du Plessis on "The True Use of the Christian Religion." This was completed and published a few months after the death of Sir Philip. The intimacy of her brother with Du Plessis doubtless induced the Countess also to study his works, which so much commended themselves to her that, some years later, she translated and published "A Discourse of Life and Death." The following passage from the preface, written by the Countess, affords a pleasant illustration of her prose writings, and at the same time is strikingly suggestive of her thoughtful character:—

"It seems to me strange," she writes, "and a thing much to be marvelled, that the labourer to repose himself hasteneth, as it were, the course of the sun; that the mariner rows with all his force to attain the port, and with a joyful cry salutes the descried land; that the traveller is never quiet nor content till he be at the end of his voyage; and that we in the meanwhile, tied in this world to a perpetual task, tost with continual tempest, tired with a rough and cumbersome way, cannot yet see the end of our labour but with grief, nor behold our port but with tears, nor approach our home and quiet abode but with horror and trembling. This life is but a Penelope's web, wherein we are always doing and undoing; a sea open to all winds, which, sometime within, sometime without, never cease to torment us; a weary journey through extreme heats and colds, over high mountains, steep rocks and thievish deserts. And so we term it, in weaving this web, in rowing at this oar, in passing this miserable way. Yet, lo! when Death comes to end our work; when she stretcheth out her arms to pull us into port; when, after so many dangerous passages and loathsome lodgings, she would conduct us to our true home and resting-place; instead of rejoicing at the end of our labour, of taking comfort at the sight of our land, of singing at the approach of our happy mansion, we would fain (who would believe it?) retake our work in hand, we would again hoist sail to the wind, and willingly undertake our journey anew. No more then remember we our pains; our ship-wrecks and dangers are forgotten; we fear no more the travails and the thieves. Contrariwise, we apprehend death as an extreme pain, we doubt it as a rock, we fly it as a thief. We do as little children, who all the day complain, and when the medicine is brought them, are no longer sick; as they who all the week long run up and down the streets with pain of the teeth, and, seeing the barber coming to pull them, out, feel no more pain. We fear more the cure than the disease, the surgeon than the pain. We have more sense of the medicine's bitterness, soon gone, than of a bitter languishing, long continued; more feeling of death, the end of our miseries, than the endless misery of our life, and wish for that we ought to fear."

The literary labours of the Countess of Pembroke were not, however, confined to prose. The work by which she is most deservedly remembered as a writer was the unique translation of the Book of Psalms, begun during the latter part of the life of Sir Philip, and completed by his sister after his death. This work is interesting not only as a joint production, the result of a loving unity of thought and pursuit, but also from its remarkable character. It bears at once the stamp of serious thought, scholarship, and rare culture. Composed of various kinds of verse, to suit best the subject and scope of the Psalm, it contains passages of striking power and beauty. It does not seem to be settled with absolute certainty which portions were written by Sir Philip and which by his sister. Unfortunately, the original manuscript, which was for many years preserved in the library at Wilton House, appears to have been lost. Probably the earlier portions were, if written by the brother, so written while he was enjoying much of his sister's society, either at Wilton or at the old residence overlooking Coniston Lake, in which the Countess for a period resided, and whither Sir Philip would come riding over the hills to visit her. The editor of the Chiswick Press edition, issued in 1823, in referring to the various MS. copies in existence, gives a substantial reason for endorsing the opinion of Dr. Woodford, a contemporary of the Sidneys, that the earlier part, as far as the 43rd Psalm, was the work of Sir Philip, and the remainder, much the greater portion, by the sister. Mr. Ruskin has done excellent service in publishing in his "Bibliotheca Pastorum" portions of the first half of the work. He has stated that, in commencing, he had expected to have little difficulty in distinguishing Sidney's work from that of any other writer concerned in the book. "But," he says, "I found, with greater surprise, that, instead of shining out with any recognisable brightness, the translations attributed by tradition to Sidney included many of the feeblest in the volume; and that, while several curious transitions in manner, and occasional fillings and retouchings by evidently inferior writers, were traceable through the rest, the entire body of the series was still animated by the same healthy and impetuous spirit, and could by no criticism of mine be divided into worthy and unworthy portions." This significant and authoritative criticism, however, only strengthens the assumption that the greater portion, and the best, is the work of the sister. There is no reason to suppose that her power as a writer or skill as a versifier was inferior to that of her brother. The objection advanced by some, that she would not be likely to have had the requisite knowledge of Hebrew to undertake such a work, is even of less importance. The period was remarkable for female learning. Her kinswoman, Lady Jane Grey, is said by Sir Thomas Chaloner, a contemporary, to have been well versed in Hebrew, Chaldee, Arabic, French, and Italian, in addition to Greek and Latin; and, remembering the disposition and pursuits of the Countess, it is not at all improbable that she possessed the necessary learning for the important work attributed to her. Daniel, also a poet of the period, referring to this version of the Psalms, says:—

It is also a noticeable fact that in a portrait of the Countess, a copy of which is prefixed to the edition before mentioned, the lady is taken holding in her hand a copy of "David's Psalms."

We cannot do more than give a few passages of this exquisite work of Mary Sidney. They will serve to show how carefully the subject had been studied, having regard to the circumstances, the mind and purposes of the psalmist, and how the meaning and beauty are elaborated and emphasized.

Psalm 72.

Psalm 139.

While this brilliant translation of the Book of Psalms would itself have sufficed to have made the reputation of the Countess of Pembroke as a scholar and poet, her poetical work was not limited thereto. We have also from her pen: "The Tragedie of Antonie: done into English by the Countess of Pembroke," published 1595, and a "Pastoral dialogue in praise of Astrea," published in Davidson's "Poetical Rapsody," in 1662, which is stated to have been made on the occasion of a visit being paid by the Queen at the house of the Countess.

This learned lady also left in manuscript a poem of considerable length entitled, "The Countess of Pembroke's Passion." It is only during the present century that this work has been given to the world. The poem is a touching lamentation over the sufferings of the Saviour. The subject itself, and the way in which it is handled, show how thoroughly the mind of the writer was impregnated with religious thought, and her ever ready and tender sympathy. It is a poem of very unequal merit, but some stanzas are sweet. Take the following:—

The Countess of Pembroke was, throughout her life, an unselfish and generous patron of letters. The noble old library at famous Wilton was collected chiefly during her residence there. The poets of the time seem to have vied with each other in speaking her praise, and in bearing testimony to her learning and rare excellence of character. Although it may be said that to some extent the many warm eulogies passed upon her came from interested sources, and are of too flattering a character to be invariably sincere, the lady whose virtues and worth were so warmly and universally sung must have been of nobly-souled and exalted nature. Churchyard, Daniel, Smart, and others of the period, are not alone in their plaudits. None was more enthusiastic than Spenser himself. His references to her are not solitary. The following in "Colin Clout's come home again" may be mentioned:—

Her age was no less honoured than her youth. It has been said of her that "when an old woman she could entrance the world by her sweet beauty of her face, the gentleness of her womanly heart, the strength and keenness of her wit, and the depth and breadth of her learning." Her husband died in the month of January, 1602. She survived him twenty years. By the marriage there were three children—William, Philip, and a daughter named Anne, who died young. William, who on the death of his father became Earl of Pembroke, was, according to Clarendon, the most universally beloved and esteemed of any man of that age. He is believed by some to have been the "W. H." of Shakespeare's Sonnets, of whom that poet says:—

From the second son, Philip, who succeeded his elder brother to the title, the present Earl of Pembroke is descended.

After having most truly lived her long life—a life faithful, devoted, and true—the Countess of Pembroke died at her town house in Aldersgate Street, on the 25th September, 1621. She was interred in the vault of her husband's family in Salisbury Cathedral.

A noble life is its own monument. To have influenced such a life as that of Philip Sidney; to have lived her own life—with its lasting impress on the literature of England, and its beneficial lessons to England's daughters—is to the subject of this sketch a more worthy and lasting memorial than stateliest pile of finest marble. We are, nevertheless, thankful for the familiar words of Ben Jonson:—

1

"Sir Philip Sidney." By J. A. Symonds, p. 180.