“They shall follow anon,” returned Hertford. “But you will have so much to do at first, that you must, perforce, discontinue your studies for awhile. Your Grace will be pleased to say nothing to your preceptors as to what takes you hence, for the proclamation will not be made before to-morrow, and till then, for reasons I will presently explain, the utmost secrecy as to the demise of your royal father must be observed. This premised, I will cause them to be summoned. Ho, there!” he added, to an attendant. “Let Sir John Cheke and Doctor Cox be called. His highness is about to set forth for Enfield.”
“Nay, I will go to them,” cried Edward.
“Your Majesty’s pardon,” rejoined Hertford, in a low tone; “they must now wait on you.”
Presently afterwards, two ancient personages, of very thoughtful and studious aspect, clad alike in long black gowns bordered with fur, and having velvet caps on their bald heads, entered the hall. The foremost of them, the learned Sir John Cheke, carried a ponderous folio under his arm; the other was the no less erudite Doctor Cox. Being afflicted with gout, and requiring the support of a staff, Doctor Cox came on rather more slowly than his fellow-tutor.
Sprung from an ancient family, a ripe scholar, a proficient in oratory, and remarkably well versed in the Platonic philosophy, Sir John Cheke was the author of several learned treatises, and is described by Doctor Thomas Wilson, secretary of state to Queen Elizabeth, who knew him well, as “that rare learned man, and singular ornament of the land”. His sister was wedded to Cecil, afterwards the great Lord Burleigh. To philosophy, Cheke’s fellow-preceptor, Doctor Cox, added a profound knowledge of divinity. Both Edward’s tutors were extremely zealous Reformers, and it was no doubt owing to their judicious training that the young king became one of the brightest ornaments and most effectual supporters of the Protestant cause.
Edward flew to meet his preceptors, and, running up to Doctor Cox, cried, “Lean on me, good Doctor—lean on me!”
Cox respectfully declined his aid, but suffered him to take his hand, and so lead him towards the Earl of Hertford, who was in the act of courteously saluting Sir John Cheke.
“My royal pupil tells me your lordship is about to take him hence,” said Doctor Cox, bowing to the earl. “I am sorry his studies will be interrupted.”
“They will only be interrupted for a time, Doctor,” replied Hertford. “Most like he will not return here,” he added, with a certain significance, “but you and Sir John Cheke will rejoin him. His Highness derives too much benefit from the able tuition of ye both to be longer deprived of it than is absolutely needful. Ye spare no pains with him, learned sirs, of that I am well satisfied.”
“Few pains are needed, my lord,” replied Cheke. “More credit is due to his Highness than to us for the rapid progress he hath made. Trouble or difficulty with him we have none, for he hath a rare capacity for learning, and zeal and industry equal to his ability; and that is saying no light thing. He never tires of reading, but turns from profane history to philosophy, and from philosophy to the Holy Scriptures and theology. He is mastering all the liberal sciences. Logic he hath studied, as your lordship knows, and at this present he is learning Aristotle’s Ethics in Greek, and, having finished with it, he will take up the Rhetoric.”
“I can corroborate all Sir John hath advanced,” observed Doctor Cox. “His Highness needs no spur to study—nay, his application is so great that he rather requires to be checked than stimulated. He hath recently read Cato, the Satellitium of Vives, and the fables of Æsopus. As to Latin, he knows it better than many an English boy of his age knows his mother tongue. Peradventure, your lordship hath seen his letters in that language to the king his father?”
“I pray you speak not of them, dear Doctor,” cried Edward, bursting into tears.
“I crave your Highness’s pardon!” exclaimed the worthy man, who was most tenderly attached to his royal pupil. “I would not pain you for the world.”