The Constable of the Tower by W. Harrison Ainsworth

All eyes were fixed upon Edward on his entrance, and every head was inclined as if in homage to the future sovereign. He gracefully acknowledged the reverence shown him, which no doubt would have been even greater but from the fear of offending the jealous king. The young prince, it has already been mentioned, had but just entered upon his tenth year, but he seemed to possess a degree of intelligence far beyond his age, and had indeed been most carefully instructed by some of the most learned men of the day. He spoke French and Italian, and had written letters in Latin to his father, his sisters, and the queen. There was a great fragility of look about him, and he seemed to have shot up quickly, like a forced plant. Though tall for his age, his limbs were very slight, and his complexion was of feminine delicacy. In appearance he was more of a Seymour than a Tudor. His face was a perfect oval, with some traces of his stern father about it, but his lineaments generally resembled those of his beautiful mother. His expression was gentle, but thoughtful—more thoughtful than befitted a child. His eyes were of a dark brown, and soft; his hair was light in hue, with a tinge of gold in it, worn short, and cut close round the forehead. He was attired like the son of a splendid monarch, and the heir to a powerful throne. His little cassock was of murrey-colored velvet, embroidered all over with damask, gold and pearls, and having buttons and loops of gold; his doublet and hose were of dark-red satin, woven with threads of gold, and his velvet buskins were decorated with gold aglets. He was armed with a short rapier and a poniard in a richly ornamented sheath, and a velvet pouch was suspended from his girdle. His flat velvet cap, which was removed on entering his royal father’s presence, was adorned with rubies and emeralds, and had a brooch set with fair table diamonds on the right side, over which drooped a blood-red feather.

Again Cranmer advanced, and addressed the prince in terms nearly similar to those he had employed towards his sisters, but there was, perhaps, more of deference in his manner. Edward gazed at him with his clear eyes, steadily at first, but, as the archbishop proceeded, the young prince’s composure quite forsook him. Natural feelings asserted their sway over his childish breast, and disregarding etiquette, he rushed towards the king, and flinging his little arms round his neck, sobbed out, “My father!—my dear father!”

So unexpected, though so natural was this occurrence, that, cold and callous as were most of the assemblage, few of them refused it the tribute of sympathy. Some were even moved to tears. Fearing the effect of any sudden shock upon the king, Doctor Butts stepped towards him. But, though Henry was sensibly touched by this display of his son’s affection, his nerves were strong enough to bear it. Kissing the boy on the brow, he gently disengaged himself from his embrace, addressing a few soothing words to him in a very kindly tone, while Edward still continued to weep.

Thinking the king might be troubled if the scene endured too long, the Earl of Hertford moved towards his nephew, but Henry checked him, by calling out, “Let him be!—let him be!”

But the action called Edward to himself. Controlling his grief, he knelt on the cushion before the king, and regarding him with eyes that were still filled with tears, he said, “Forgive me, sire! It is thus I ought to ask your blessing.”

“Thou hast it, my dear child,” replied the king, solemnly, yet tenderly. “Heaven bless thee, boy—my kingdom’s hope and my own. May those I have appointed to watch over thee fulfil their trust.”

“Doubt it not, my liege,” said Hertford, as the king paused for a moment.

“Mark me, Edward!” pursued Henry, summoning up all his firmness. “Eight years must elapse ere thou canst exercise the full authority of the crown. I have so willed it. Thou wilt be king soon enough. Meantime, prepare thyself for the high and important duties thou wilt have to discharge. I doubt not thou wilt have the notable virtues and princely qualities which should distinguish a sovereign. I know thee to be godly-minded, and I thank Heaven it is so; praying that thy heart may be illumined to all holy truths. I have provided thee with religious counsellors, to whom my desires are known, and in the soundness of whose judgment and principles I can rely. Can I not confide the prince’s religious culture to you, my Lord of Canterbury?” (to Cranmer); “and to you, my Lord of Durham?” (to Tunstal.)