Lady Jane Grey and Her Times

by Ida A. Taylor

The Protector’s ruin had been assured. Trusting to the declarations of the Council, he fell an easy prey into their hands. Yielding to the representations of Cranmer and Paget, to whose “diligent travail” his enemies gratefully ascribed their success, he permitted his trusty followers to be replaced in the defence of the Castle by the usual royal guard; on October 11 he had been seized and placed in safe keeping, and it was reported that the King had a bad cold, and “much desireth to be hence, saying that ‘Methinks I am in prison. Here be no galleries nor no gardens to walk in.’”[102] The young sovereign had also, with a merry countenance and a loud voice, asked how their Lordships of the Council were, and when he would see them, saying that they should be welcome whensoever they came.

It was plain that objections to a transference of his guardianship were not to be expected from the nephew of the Lord Protector, and the Duke was removed from Windsor to the Tower, followed by three hundred lords and gentlemen, “as if he had been a captive carried in triumph.” It would, however, have been more difficult to induce the boy to consent to the execution of another of his closest kin, and there may have been some fraction of truth in the report which gained currency that the King had not been made acquainted with the fact that his uncle was actually a prisoner until he learnt it from the Duchess. He then sent for the Archbishop and questioned him on the subject.

“Godfather,” he is made to say, “what has become of my uncle, the Duke?” The explanation furnished him by Cranmer—to the effect that, had God not helped the Lords, the country would have been ruined, and it was feared that the Protector might have slain the King himself—did not appear to commend itself to the young sovereign. The Duke, he said, had never done him any harm, and he did not wish him to be killed.

A King’s wishes, even at thirteen, have weight, and Warwick suddenly discovered that good should be returned for evil; and that since it was the King’s desire, and the first thing he had asked of his Council, the Duke must be pardoned.[103]

From a photo by W. Mansell & Co. after a painting by Holbein.

EDWARD VI.

What is more certain is that, on condition of an unqualified acknowledgment of his guilt, accompanied by forfeiture of offices and property, it was decided that Somerset should be set at liberty. Self-respect or dignity was not in fashion, and in the eyes of some the submission of the late Lord Protector assumed the character of an “abjectness.” For the moment it purchased for him safety, and he was gradually permitted to regain a certain amount of influence and power. Some portion of his wealth was restored to him, and he was at length readmitted to the Council and to a limited share in the government. To sanguine eyes all seemed to have been placed on a satisfactory footing; but jealousy, distrust, and hatred take much killing. The position of the man who was the King’s nearest of kin amongst his nobles, and had lately been all-powerful in the State, was a difficult one. Warwick was rising, and meant to rise; Somerset was not content to remain fallen and discredited. What seemed a peace was merely an armistice.

Meantime Warwick and his friends were no more successful than his rival in maintaining the national honour, and the peace with France concluded during the spring was regarded by the nation as a disgrace. Boulogne was surrendered to its natural owners, and in magniloquent terms war was once more stated to be at an end for ever between the two countries.

Court and courtiers troubled themselves little with such matters, and on St. George’s Day a brilliant company of Lords of the Council and Knights of the Garter kept the festival at Greenwich; when a glimpse of the thirteen-year-old King is to be caught, in a more boyish mood than usual.