of the emperor. The whole story reads like a beautiful romance, and is a marvellous instance of what the energy and devotion of a woman can effect. It was on the 19th September, 1525, that Margaret entered Madrid. The emperor received her surrounded by a numerous court, kissed her on the forehead, and offered her his hand. He then led her to the door of her brother's apartments and withdrew. Margaret eagerly rushed into the room where Francis lay, and was shocked to find him, to all appearance, a dying man. His attendants stood around him as if waiting his last breath. Margaret approached the bed softly, unobserved by her brother, and, standing over him, gazed on his wasted features with the deepest emotions of tenderness and grief. But her faith was strong that he would not die but live. She had prayed fervently for his life, and in the depth of her soul she seemed to hear an answer to her prayers. As prudent, skilful, decided, and active, as she was tender and loving, she at once established herself in the king's chamber as his nurse, and assumed the management and direction of everything. "If she had not come," says Bantome," the king would have died." "I know my brother's temperament and constitution," she said, "far better than the doctors." spite of opposition she had his treatment changed, and then she took up her position by his bed and would not leave him. While the king slept, Margaret prayed, and when he awoke she spoke to him in encouraging, cheerful words. She told him of the love of Christ, and proposed that he should receive the Holy Communion. Francis consented, and after this service he appeared to wake up as from a deep sleep. He sat up in bed, and, fixing his eyes on his sister, he said, "God will heal me in body and soul." To which, Margaret, deeply moved, replied, "Yes, God will raise you up again and make you free." From that hour he gradually recovered his strength, and he would often say, "But for her I was a dead man."

In

Margaret remained with her brother till his health was restored, and then occupied herself with negociations for obtaining his liberty. Into these, however, we must not enter. After many delays and disappointments he was at last set free, and returned to his own land to the inexpressible joy of his subjects.

For a time Francis showed himself not unfavourable to the cause of Reformation, but his character was inconsistent, and no reliance was to be placed on his course of action. At one time he yielded everything to the solicitations of Margaret, whom he most tenderly loved; at another, he was guided by the representations and wishes of the Sorbonne. This was the period from the years 1526 to 1532, when the Christianity of Margaret was the purest. Later in her life her timid nature seemed to cower before the stern will of her brother, and there is no doubt that she often shrank from the open confession of her belief, out of a mingled feeling of love for her brother and dread of alienating his affection; and her compliance with the outward rites of the Romish Church, while in her heart she clung to a purer and simpler faith, is often grievously censured by the Protestant writers of that day. Her position, indeed, often offered a parallel to that of her friend and teacher Briconnet. Both belonged to the mystic or quietist school, one of whose

leading maxims has ever been to accommodate itself to the Church that exists, whatever that Church may be. So afterwards, the Archbishop of Cambray, of the same school, acted, professing outwardly submission to the Pope while retaining inwardly his old convictions.

There was at this period at the court of France a prince, young, handsome, brave, who had been the companion of Francis in the field and in prison. This was Henry d'Albret, king of Navarre. Captivated with the beauty, grace, and acquirements of Margaret, he eagerly courted her hand, and Margaret listened to his suit not unwillingly. But Francis had other views for his sister, and for a time opposed her union with Henry d'Albret. He had taken a romantic liking to Henry VIII. of England, and longed to see his sister married to him. But the pure and tender heart of Margaret revolted at the thought of taking the place of Catherine of Arragon, whose virtues she honoured. Ere long, however, Francis was compelled to see that his friend's affections were turned in the direction of Anne Boleyn, who had formerly occupied the situation of maid of honour to his sister, and after this discovery he ceased to oppose the wishes of the king of Navarre, whose marriage with Margaret took place on the 24th of January, 1527. It was celebrated with great pomp. A week of magnificent tournaments followed. But no earthly pomp or enjoyment had power to withdraw the mind of Margaret from her highest good. At the time of her marriage she writes to her friend Madame de la Rochefoucald: "Even the love of life ought to be forgotten in our anxiety for the honour that cometh from God. A thousand chances may separate from this world according to the holy will of Him who placed us here; and who, whether we be near or far away, in war or in peace, on horseback or calmly sleeping in our beds, takes and leaves whom He pleases, as it has been eternally decreed by His Almighty power and matchless love; in firm reliance upon which reposes our sole hope of everlasting salvation."

Yielding to the entreaties of his sister, Francis had opened the prisons and liberated the captives for the faith of Christ. He, at the same time, recalled from exile those who had been banished during his own imprisonment, and the aged Lefevre and the fervent Roussel returned to France from Strasburg. Margaret welcomed them with the greatest delight, and lodged them in the castle of Angoulême. When these deliverances were made known, the reformed party began to hope that Francis, seeing Charles V. at the head of the Romish party, would certainly place himself at the head of the Evangelical cause, and that these two champions would decide on the battle-field the great controversy of the age. "The king," wrote Capito, "is becoming favourable to the word of God." Sometimes he listened to the preaching of the Reformers and read the Holy Scriptures with his sister. One day, much impressed by what he had heard, he exclaimed, "It is infamous that the monks should dare to call that heresy which is the very doctrine of God." But at heart Francis had no true sympathy with the principles of the Reformation. Its freedom of spirit clashed with his despotic nature, and the holiness of its teaching condemned the irregularities of his life. No sooner was the influence of his sister at any time withdrawn, than that of the Sorbonne again gained

the ascendancy. We must not forget, too, that at no time does it appear that Margaret desired a Reformation in religion such as that of Luther, Calvin, or the Swiss Reformers. She desired to see in the Church a living piety, but she wished bishops and the hierarchy, the whole ecclesiastical framework, to be left untouched. She thought to change the inside, and yet leave the outside standing; such was her system, not perhaps deliberately formed, but certainly acted upon.

The struggle between the better aspirations of the king, and the machinations of the Sorbonne was recommenced by the following circumstance. Francis was sorely in want of money with which to meet the heavy charges of the treaty of Madrid. He applied to the clergy, who eagerly laid hold of the opportunity thus given to compass their own ends. They furnished 1,300,000 livres, but demanded in return that his majesty should extirpate the "Damnable and insupportable Lutheran sect which had crept into the kingdom." Margaret was at Fontainbleau with her husband when the news of this demand of the clergy reached her. Trembling, lest her brother's consent should be gained, she at once wrote to him, and again her influence prevailed. The king did not command the extirpation of the Lutheran heresy, but he put the contribution of the clergy in his treasury. Margaret, however, could not feel secure. Her mind was distracted with the keenest anxiety, thinking of the dangers that continually threatened the Gospel. At this time she was kept unavoidably absent from Paris. She was expecting soon to become a mother. She earnestly wished for a daughter, and often speaks of this wish in her letters. Her wish was granted to her, and the child then born became afterwards one of the most remarkable women of her day, Jeanne d'Albret, the mother of Henry IV., and famous for the signal protection which she gave to the work of the Reformation. The birth took place on the 7th January, 1528. The enemies of the Reformation did not fail to avail themselves of Margaret's absence to stir up persecution against those known to be favourable to the Reformation. Their first victim was a nobleman of Poitou named De La Tour, who, along with his servant, was indicted by the parliament for heresy and condemned to be burnt alive. The servant being subjected to the torture recanted, but De La Tour, after enduring the rack, raised his eyes to heaven and vowed to God that he would remain true to Him, and such was the triumph and joy of his soul in his allegiance to His divine Master that he seemed insensible to the anguish of his body. Margaret had hardly recovered from her confinement when the terrible news reached her, but without hesitation she at once set out on her return to Paris. But all her efforts to stem the torrent of persecution at this time was rendered unavailing by an occurrence which excited the rage of the king, the clergy, and the whole body of the people to the highest pitch against the Protestants.

The festival of Whitsunday had just been celebrated in Paris with great pomp. In an angle formed by the junction of two streets there stood an image of the Virgin Mary, with the infant Jesus in her arms, before which, daily, devout persons in great numbers were wont to pay their devotions. During the festival, crowds surrounded it, and, kneeling before it, invoked the

image in words of the highest adoration: "Oh, holy Virgin! Oh, Mediatress of mankind! Oh, Pardoner of sinners! Author of righteousness!—which cleanseth away our sins. Refuge of all who turn to God! etc., etc. On the Monday morning, the day after the festival, the heads of both Virgin and child were found broken off, and the virgin's robe torn and trampled under foot. Who the authors of this mutilation were it was never known. It has been affirmed that the priests themselves did the act in order to use it as a weapon against the Lutherans, but it is far more probable that some violent member of the reformed party, indignant at the worship paid to the Virgin, had broken the idol; but however this might have been, nothing could exceed the excitement and indignation which the outrage caused. Men, women and children crowded round the broken image, weeping, groaning, and calling down vengeance from heaven on the perpetrators of the sacrilege. Francis, the most irritable and susceptible of monarchs, regarded the act as an outrage against his authority. He offered a reward of a thousand gold crowns, with indemnity for any crime, to him who should bring information against the perpetrator. He set on foot the most searching investigation, but all was in vain-nothing was discovered. The priests also appointed continual processions from all the churches to the scene of the outrage. The week after, 500 students, each bearing a lighted taper, with all the doctors, licentiates, and bachelors of the university, proceeded from the Sorbonne. In front of them marched the four mendicant orders. The following week, on Corpus Christi day, the king himself headed a gorgeous procession of bishops, ambassadors, high officers of the crown, and princes of the blood. Arrived at the spot, the king fell on his knees and prayed. On rising he received from the hands of his grand almoner a small silver gilt statue of the Virgin, with which he devoutly replaced the former one. The reaction was complete. Duprat, the Sorbonne, and the parliament, all said that at last their master had come to his senses and that they must take advantage of the change. Stern inquisitions and the bitterest persecution followed this enthusiastic reaction in favour of the papacy. Margaret for once found her interposition powerless to stem the torrent, and remained in her brother's brilliant court at St. Germain with a heart oppressed with sad forebodings. Her husband, though devotedly attached to his wife, and full of admiration for the purity and self denial of her character, was yet at times somewhat impatient of what he regarded as her over strictness and excess of devotion to her religious duties.

In addition to her sorrows and anxieties regarding the Church of God, Margaret was called during the following year to pass through the heavy personal affliction of the loss of her second infant, a son, who died in the Christmas of 1530, at the age of five months and a half. Very touching is the account given of his illness and death, and of the triumph of the mother's faith and trust in God, in the midst of her heart's anguish. But though her faith was strong her suffering was acute. "Ah," she said to one friend who sought to console her, "but for our Lord's help the burden would have been more than I could bear."

Margaret had not recovered from the loss of her child when she was called

to attend the sick bed of her mother. "Never," says D'Aubigné, "had mother so depraved, and daughter so virtuous, felt such love for each other." Louisa of Savoy's tender devotion to her children was indeed the most attractive part of her character. Margaret found her suffering great weakness and often terrible pain, but she bore all with unflinching fortitude, and her stern and ambitious nature refused to admit the idea of death and the grave. No one dared to tell her of her danger, for the subject of death was one she had always carefully avoided, and it was well understood at court that the preacher who should frequently choose this as the theme of his discourses would be sure to lose her favour and receive his dismissal. Margaret knowing that her mother was deluding herself with vain hopes of recovery, deceived by the flattering promises of her physician, and seeing that all shrank from making known her true condition, resolved to take on herself the solemn duty; and, with the deepest tenderness, she besought her to turn her thoughts away from this world, and to seek to fix her hopes on God. Louisa was greatly agitated and desired to see the physicians. This time they had the honesty to confirm Margaret's words, and after they were gone the dying woman ceased to occupy herself with worldly affairs and seemed to resign herself to the death that could no longer be set aside. Margaret never left her mother's side, and in the intervals of her sufferings, which were great, she sought to soothe her mind by the words of Scripture, and by recalling the teaching of the Bishop of Meaux. These subjects, from which in the season of health and prosperity the mind of the queen's mother had so often turned, became now her only comfort. Frequently her attendants overheard her engaged in earnest prayer. Often during the day she would ask them all to leave her alone for some hours, and on their return traces of deep emotion were seen on her face. She lingered for many weeks, during which Margaret was never away from her. One day the dying mother said to her child who was weeping beside her, "" Margaret, when I look upon you my heart seems to throb only with the tender love I bear you, when it ought to be occupied with God alone. I pray you, therefore, withdraw for a little space from my side that I may devote myself without hindrance to Him alone. One word only, my love; know, and let it give you comfort, that by the gift of God my heart clings now in faith to Him." Among the last words she was recorded to have spoken were these, when her favourite maid of honour gently placed a small crucifix on her lips, she kissed it and whispered, "Thus was He, the only true friend, slain for my sins." About ten o'clock in the morning of the 22nd September, 1531, she expired so calmly, that Margaret, who was watching beside her, knew not the precise moment of her mother's death. These details, and many others, which our space does not admit of our giving, are taken from a poem preserved in the Bibliotheque Royal, supposed to have been composed by Margaret herself.

The influence of his mother being now removed from the king, he was more inclined to listen to the solicitations of his sister in behalf of her friends the evangelical party, and for a time Francis appeared to be veering towards a moderate reform. Margaret had a weak and excessive dread of contests and