exalted position placed him, from the first, in the
most conspicuous and therefore the most perilous position; in the day
when the life of the humblest peasant was safer than that of the most
dignified courtier, however he might be loaded with titles and ensigns
of nobility—for these became in truth mere pondera
ad ruinam to men who, like John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, were
too near the throne to be for a single day beyond the peril of a fall. I
think (and you will doubtless think with me) that we can hardly conceive
a more touching picture than that of Jane Guldeford,—whose
father, though he filled the high offices of Marshal of Calais, Lord
Warden of the Cinque Ports, Constable of Dover Castle, and Master of the
Ordnance, appears to have brought up his family in the quiet seclusion
of country life, far from the struggles and intrigues of the city and
the court,—suddenly brought out into the full
glare of royalty, |
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and passing on into a life of constant fear
and anxiety, more terrible and unendurable than the overwhelming
afflictions in which it culminated. The contrast between the tranquil
scene, in which we have met to-day, and the great city with its seething
multitudes; between the quiet country home and the gaieties of the
court, is great even now. What must it have been then? But Jane
Guldeford had a far higher nature, and a far more real nobility, than
her powerful and ambitious husband. Of her earlier years, indeed, we
know little or nothing; but as we gather the ripened fruits of her later
life, we may well realise in imagination how bright and beautiful must
have been its seed-time—how fair a spring must
have preceded its autumn season. In her descendant, the great Sir Philip
Sydney, we seem to read the character of his |