A BOY KING
The queen did all in her power for the little offender, but it was a
whole year before she was again allowed to come to court. There was war
in France, and the king sailed away in his ship with its sails of cloth
of gold, apparently forgetting all about the little daughter whom he
had left without a word of farewell. The child dared not write him, but
she wrote the queen a grateful little Italian letter. "I feel bound not
only to be obedient to you," she said, "but also to look up to you with
filial love, and chiefly because I learn that you, most illustrious
Highness, never forget me in your letters to his Majesty, the king."
Then she begged the queen when writing the king, always to speak of
her. "Commend me to him with my continual prayer that he will give me
his kind blessing," pleaded the anxious child.
After keeping his anger for a whole year, the king finally deigned
to send his blessing to "all" his children. The poor little girl was
comforted, and made so happy by this tardy forgiveness that she cast
gratefully about her to see what she could do to show her gratitude to
the kind stepmother who had done so much to appease his wrath. She knew
of a little French book that was a favorite of the queen's, and this
she translated into English and sent to her. The cover was embroidered
in blue and silver, and there was a quaint little dedication saying
that she knew nothing in it "was done as it should have been." It is
no wonder that the grateful child became a great favorite with her
kind-hearted stepmother.
Henry was successful in France; England had been well governed by the
queen during his absence; he was on good terms with all his family;
and although there had been a visitation of the plague, his children
were safe. It was probably at this happy time that a large picture
was painted of Henry, his three children, and the mother of Edward.
The king sits on a kind of dais with Jane Seymour beside him. He is
gorgeous in scarlet and gold brocade, and his two daughters are
almost equally dazzling in their crimson velvet and cloth of gold.
The precious little prince stands at his father's right hand, and the
king's arm is thrown around the child's neck. Both king and prince wear
velvet caps, each with a long white plume. Gold chains and rubies and
pearls are everywhere.
Queen Katherine does not appear in the picture, but she had a strong
hold on the daily lives of the royal family. She saw to it that so
far as lay in her power the neglected elder daughter should have
the position that belonged to her. Princess as she was, Mary never
had after her mother's divorce an allowance half large enough to do
what was expected of her, but now she was helped in many ways by the
thoughtful stepmother. The queen would send a handsome gown or a
generous gift of money, or she would arrange to pension off some aged,
helpless servant of Mary's, and so lessen the demands upon the girl's
slender purse. She was little older than the princess, but she showed a
motherly watchfulness of Mary's interests.
No less thoughtful was she of the training of her younger stepchildren.
It was the fashion for young people of rank to be highly educated,
especially in the languages, and if half the reports of the knowledge
acquired by the two children are true, they must have been wonderfully
industrious students. One who knew them well declared that they called
for their books as soon as it was light. First came the reading of
the Scriptures, then breakfast, and after that the study of various
languages. When the long hours of work were over, the little prince was
allowed to exercise in the open air, while Elizabeth "betook herself
to her lute or viol, and when wearied with these, employed her time in
needle-work." Four or five modern languages this industrious princess
learned to speak and write. She had some knowledge of Greek, and she
spoke Latin almost as easily as English. A little book in which she
wrote her Italian exercises is still in existence. They are well
written, but there are mistakes enough to show that even a princess
does not learn a language without hard work.
Both children had a great admiration for Queen Katherine, and whatever
she did was right in their eyes. Edward seems to have had as hard a
time learning to write as any child of to-day, and he sent a letter to
the queen about his troubles. "When I see your beautiful handwriting,"
says the discouraged little boy, "I am sick of writing. But then I
think how kind your nature is, and that whatever proceeds from a good
mind and intention will be acceptable, and so I write you this letter."
The gentle boy, not yet nine years old, was soon to be put forward to
represent the king. Henry had grown so enormously stout that he could
not climb the stairs. After a while he could no longer even walk about
his room, and he had to be moved in a rolling chair. Commissioners from
the king of France were coming to England to arrange terms of peace.
The king ordered his son to take his place.
"Your Majesty," reported the officer in whose charge the child had
been, "truly, never was there a prince of such courtesy and amiability.
His Grace rode on the charger most gallantly, and led the two thousand
knights and nobles with as much of ease and stateliness of demeanor as
if he had been forty years of age."
"And did he speak as he was taught?" asked the king.
"Surely, your Majesty, and with such grace and sovereignty in his
manner that men were affected even to tears."
"And what said the admiral?"
"I verily believe, your Highness, that he would have caught up the
prince's Grace and clasped him to his breast had it not been for the
dignity of his Grace's manner and bearing. He put his arm about the
neck of his Grace, but it was a kiss of affection and not of state that
he gave."
"And after that?"
"After the speech of welcome, my lord prince again took the head of the
cavalcade. Never before the time of your Majesty have they been handled
by such a leader. He led the French away from the Heath to meet your
Highness's gracious welcome at the palace."
The boy was not spoiled by all this honor and praise, but went
willingly away from the glories of the court to stay with his beloved
sister Elizabeth. Less than a year were they together, and then it was
thought best for them to be separated. Edward was but a lonely little
child in spite of his stateliness when on the great charger, and he
grieved so for his sister that she wrote to him suggesting that they
write frequent letters to each other. The boy caught eagerly at the
idea. "Nothing can now occur to me more grateful than your letters,"
he wrote in the prim, stilted fashion of the day, and he added, "It
is a comfort to my regret that I hope shortly to see you again if
no accident intervenes." He did see her again before many weeks had
passed, for there was news to tell which the councilors wished both
children to hear.
King Henry had been growing more and more feeble. For some time before
his death, it was so difficult for him to sign his name that three men,
acting together, were given the right to do it for him. Two made an
impression of his signature with a dry stamp, and the third traced the
letters with ink. Henry grew no less bitter in his enmity to all who
opposed him, and one of his last acts was to order the execution of his
aunt's husband.
One winter day two men galloped swiftly over the road to the palace
which was then the home of Edward.
"Inform his Highness that the Duke of Somerset and Sir Anthony Brown
await his pleasure," was the message brought to the prince. The Duke
of Somerset was Edward's mother's brother, and he went eagerly to meet
his guests.
"I rejoice that you bring me word of his Majesty," said the boy. "Is it
not yet his will that I should come to him?"
"Your Grace," answered the Duke, "his Majesty sent no such message,
but he would that you go with us to the home of her Grace, the Lady
Elizabeth." The prince did not question a command that was so in
accordance with his wishes, and they set off on horseback.
When the children were together, the duke bowed low before the boy of
ten years, his own nephew, and said:--
"Your Majesty, graciously permit your faithful servants to kiss your
hand and to promise you their humblest obedience both now and ever. A
grievous duty is it, indeed, to declare to you that our illustrious
king, Henry VIII., no more governs this realm of England. There is
comfort for his sorrowing subjects in the thought that he has left us
so noble and gracious a prince to rule us in his stead."
Edward had known nothing but kindness from his father, and now that
the king was dead, Elizabeth no longer remembered what he had made
her suffer. Edward forgot that he was a king, and the children threw
themselves into each other's arms and sobbed and cried until those who
were about them wept for sympathy.
Now the king had died three days before, but lest there should be some
insurrection or an attempt to put Mary on the throne, the Duke of
Somerset and others who meant to be the real rulers of the reign of
Edward kept the news of his death a secret until they could get the
young king safely into their hands and could establish the government
in his name. Edward was conducted to the royal apartments in the
Tower of London with an honorable escort of troops and nobles. There
was great blowing of trumpets and waving of banners, and the boy was
proclaimed king of England, France, and Ireland, and supreme head of
the church in England and Ireland. A few weeks later the coronation
took place, and then there was a rejoicing indeed. The streets through
which the young king rode were hung with tapestry and banners. Here and
there booths, or stages had been built, and in them all sorts of games
and plays were carried on to amuse the people. A rope was stretched
from the steeple of St. Paul's church and fastened firmly to a great
anchor lying on the ground. An acrobat contrived to creep halfway up
this rope, "aided neither by hand nor by foot," the old account says.
Then he performed many feats in mid-air, "whereat," as the story puts
it, "king and nobles had good pastime."
There was no longer a cruel king on the throne, but a child who is
described as a marvel of goodness and learning. He is praised not only
for his ability to speak different languages, but for his knowledge of
geography. One of the historians of the day said that he could recite
all the harbors and creeks in England, France, and Scotland, and could
tell what kind of entrance there was in each for ships, and even which
tides and winds were most favorable. It was claimed, too, that he knew
the names of all the men of authority in his kingdom, where their homes
were, and what their religion was.
This matter of religion was dividing the kingdom. Henry had called
himself a Catholic, but he would not admit the Pope's authority.
Edward and Elizabeth had been brought up in their father's belief. The
Duke of Somerset was one of the men chosen to carry out Henry's will,
and he was so decided a Protestant that he was almost as determined
to make every one accept the Protestant faith as Henry had been to
make all his people agree with himself. In spite of all King Henry's
declarations that neither Mary nor Elizabeth should ever wear the
crown, he had finally willed that it should descend first to Edward,
then to Mary and then to Elizabeth. The Catholics were eager to have
Mary come to the throne, because she was of their own faith; but the
Duke of Somerset had been chosen Protector, that is, he was really to
govern the kingdom until Edward was old enough to rule, and he meant to
oblige the people to become Protestants.
There was even more scheming going on around the boy king, for
his councilors were already planning for his marriage. A little
five-year-old girl in Scotland was the one whose hand they meant to
secure for their sovereign. Her name was Mary, and she was the Queen of
Scots. This plan had been one of King Henry's favorite schemes, but it
had never pleased the Scotch. The Protector led an army against them,
a most remarkable fashion of winning a bride for the young king, but
the Scotch would not yield.
"What greater honor do you expect for the queen?" demanded the English
council. "How can Scotland gain more sure protection than that of the
king of England?" The Scotch knew very well that if Edward married
Mary, it would be for the purpose of gaining a surer control of
Scotland, and they refused in spite of the Duke of Somerset and all his
army. They betrothed the little queen to the son of the French king,
and sent her to France to be educated. "The Scotch are a perverse and
wilful people," then said the English.
Besides the difficulty in gaining a wife for the king and the religious
persecutions, there was trouble from other causes, especially among the
poor. Part of this arose from what was called "enclosing." On every
great estate there had always been land that the poor people living
on the estate could use as a common pasture for their cows. The rich
landowners were beginning to "enclose," or fence in these tracts of
land and to use them either for private parks or for sheep pastures.
The poor had no longer any way to feed their animals, and they were
in great distress. Somerset tried to forbid this enclosing, but the
owners of land were too powerful for him, and the enclosing went on in
spite of the strictest laws against it. Indeed, the laws caused a new
difficulty, for now that the poor people had a decree in their favor,
they revolted in several districts, and tried to seize the land. A
writer who lived in those times says, "The poor people swarmed in the
realm."
Of course when there were revolts, Somerset was obliged to suppress
them, no matter how much he sympathized with the revolters, and often
accused men were punished with little effort to make sure of their
guilt. It is said that a miller who had been a revolter suspected
that he was in danger, and said to his servant, "I must go away on
business. If anyone asks for me say that you are the miller and have
owned the mill these three years." The king's officer came as the
miller feared. "Are you the miller?" he demanded. "Surely," replied the
servant proudly. "The mill has been mine for three full years." "You
have been a busy rebel," declared the officer, "and now you shall be
hanged to the nearest tree." "Indeed, I'm not the miller, but only his
man," cried the frightened servant. "The man tells two tales, hang him
up," bade the officer. A little later one who knew the miller said,
"Truly, he was not the miller, he was but the miller's man." "Then has
he proved a good servant," declared the officer contentedly, "for how
could he have done his master better service than by hanging for him?"
The nobles were angry at Somerset's attempt to prevent enclosing, and
they were indignant that he should have so much power. The result was
that he was accused of treason and the Duke of Northumberland became
Protector.
Although all these acts were done in the name of Edward, the boy king
had really very little freedom. "He is not alone half a quarter of an
hour," said one who knew of his life. When he first became king, he
wrote to Mary, "I will be to you a dearest brother and overflowing with
all kindness;" but he was taught by Somerset and others that it was a
danger to the kingdom to allow his sister to remain a Catholic. When
he had been on the throne for about three years, she was summoned to
court.
"Your Highness," said the chamberlain to Edward, "I have to announce
the arrival of her Grace, the Princess Mary."
"Give welcome to her and her train," said the young monarch, "and
say that it is my will and that of my councilors to receive her
straightway." This visit was not for the pleasure of meeting her
brother, though they greeted each other most cordially. The royal
council was sitting in another room, and there she was summoned.
"Your Grace," said the councilors, "is it true that, contrary to the
wishes of his Majesty the king, mass is still said daily in your house?"
"It is true," answered Mary, "that the worship of God is carried on in
my house in such wise as I do firmly believe is most pleasing to him."
"There is then no hope of your Grace's amendment shortly?"
"None, my lord."
"It is the will of his Majesty, who is supreme head of the church in
England, that the mass should be no longer celebrated in his realm.
It becomes the duty of all that owe him allegiance to obey. It is his
Majesty's command that you obey as a subject, attempting not to rule as
a sovereign."
"I will neither change my faith nor conceal that which is my true
opinion," declared the princess, "and in testimony of my belief I am
ready to lay my head upon the block for the truth, though I am unworthy
to suffer death in so good a cause."
Mary soon left the palace. Letters bidding her give up her religion
came from the king, but the elder sister replied:--
"They may be signed with your own name, but they cannot be really your
own, for it is not possible that your Highness can at these years be
a judge in matters of religion, and by the doings of certain of your
councilors I mean not to rule my conscience."
With his councilors telling him how dangerous it was to the peace of
the kingdom for Mary to be allowed to practise a form of religion that
was contrary to the law, the brother and sister can hardly have been
very happy together, and their meetings grew further apart.
Elizabeth was living quietly in her own house, spending most of her
time in study. The boy king was hardly more than a toy in the hands of
his councilors. Somerset was finally condemned to death, but when he
wrote to Elizabeth and begged her to appeal to the king and save his
life, Elizabeth was obliged to answer:--
"The king is surrounded by those who take good care to keep me away
from him, and I can no more gain access to his Majesty than you can."
The one who was keeping Elizabeth from her brother was the new
Protector, the Duke of Northumberland. Edward became ill, and everyone
knew that his life would be short. Elizabeth tried to visit him, but
was prevented. Then she wrote him a letter, but it is not probable that
he ever saw it. Northumberland was in power, and he did not mean that
either Mary or Elizabeth should wear the English crown; he had quite
another plan in his mind.