No. 4 Edward Seymour, First Duke of Somerset
THE PROTECTOR.
By Holbein.
EXECUTED IN 1552.
Black gown, with fur. Black cap, and jewel. Collar of Garter, and George.
The second but eldest surviving son of Sir John Seymour, of Wulfhall, county Wilts, by Margaret, daughter of Sir John Wentworth, of Nettlested, in Suffolk. Sir John (a distinguished soldier) accompanied Henry VIII. to France, and when Charles, Emperor of Germany, came over to England, he was selected to attend on that monarch.
He was in high favour with the King, who appointed him to many places even before the royal marriage with Jane Seymour, ‘the fairest and most discreet of his wives.’ The ceremony took place at her paternal home of Wulfhall in 1536. The old barn, the scene of great festivities, may still be seen, with hooks dangling from the rafters where the hangings were attached; Sir John Seymour died the same year.
Many interesting papers relating to this and other subsequent royal visits, and the domestic economy of Wulfhall, are treasured among the archives of Longleat, Sir John Thynne having been the Protector’s confidential agent and secretary, and having conducted the whole of his private, and personal business when the Duke was occupied in public matters.
But we are anticipating, and must return to the early years of Edward Seymour. He was educated both at Oxford and Cambridge; and afterwards joining his father at Court, entered the army, and also distinguished himself greatly in France, and was knighted for his services in 1525. On his return to England he was appointed Esquire to the King, and was one of the challengers in the tilt-yard of Greenwich, when Henry kept his Christmas there. On the King’s marriage with his sister Jane, Edward Seymour was created Viscount Beauchamp, with other grants and honours, and in 1537, Earl of Hertford. He was sent to France on a mission of importance, and, returning, was made Knight Companion of the Garter at Hampton Court.
From this time Seymour’s life became most eventful, he went twice to Scotland, high in command, likewise again to France, where he did good service, and was instrumental in concluding peace with that country. Honours and distinctions too numerous to relate were heaped on the King’s brother-in-law, even after the death of poor Queen Jane. Nor must we omit to mention that Henry, shortly before his marriage with Anne of Cleves, revisited Wulfhall, where he was sumptuously entertained (with an enormous retinue) for three days, which pleased him so much, that he returned thither a third time in 1543.
The papers and bills at Longleat testify to the grandeur of these receptions, showing at the same time how all the family took up their quarters in the long barn (once used for the ill-fated Jane’s wedding dance), leaving the rest of the house to the royal party. Could they have given the King credit for any over-sensibility on the occasion?
Lord Hertford was a gallant soldier; but in some of his expeditions against the Scots he has been reproached for his ‘heavy hand.’
When Henry VIII. felt his end approaching, he took his brother-in-law into his confidence, and spent a long time in conferring with him, and Sir William Paget, on the state of the country, his hopes and fears for young Prince Edward, etc. They were both with him at his death, and there were rumours to Hertford’s disadvantage, respecting the royal will. He was one of the many executors, but he agitated so successfully, that, as the King’s uncle, he was granted precedency, and appointed his guardian with many conditions, from which he soon emancipated himself. He hurried his royal ward to London, where the nephew was proclaimed King, and the uncle Protector of the realm.
The latter already bore the title of Earl and Viscount, and the King further bestowed on him that of Baron, and next day the ducal coronet was awarded him, with the title of Somerset, the royal patent setting forth ‘that the name of that family, from which our most beloved mother, Jane, late Queen of England, drew her beginning, might not be clouded by any higher title, or colour of dignity.’ On the Duke of Norfolk being attainted, the Duke of Somerset was made Earl Marshal for life. His power seemed almost absolute, and Edward, who delighted to do him honour, both publicly and privately, appointed him to sit on the right hand of the throne. Nor was the Duke any way loath to enjoy such dignities; the first years of the reign of Edward the King contain the biography of Edward the Protector, and are recorded elsewhere. But he climbed too fast; he was King in all but name. He surrounded himself with regal pomp, and his enemies accused him of aspiring to the throne in good earnest, in proof of which it was adduced that he used the royal pronoun ‘we,’ and signed himself, ‘Protector, by the grace of God.’ True it is that he wrote in former times to his well-beloved Mr. Thynne, ‘I bid you heartily farewell,’ while later documents, amid Longleat’s varied stores, are couched in grander terms, such as ‘we greet you well,’ ‘it is our intention,’ and the like.
For all the vicissitudes of his eventful life, for his deeds of military glory, his ambition that ‘o’erselled itself,’ the plots in which he was accused of taking part, and the factions which rose up against him, at the head of which were the Earl of Warwick, and his own ungrateful brother, Thomas Lord Seymour of Sudeley, see the Chronicles of the Kings of England.
A majority of the Privy Council, with his deadly foe, Warwick, as leader, was now united against him, and though hitherto a favourite with the people, they were at last (for the most part) persuaded that ‘the royal person was not safe in the Duke’s hands, whose doings were treacherous, and his proceedings devilish.’ Somerset submitted; he resigned the authority his enemies were bent on wresting from him, and was committed to the Tower.
The circumstances attending his downfall were most humiliating. Deprived of all his great offices, save that of Privy Councillor, he was compelled to own the justice of his sentence, and that on his bended knees. His first imprisonment did not last long, and his loving nephew contrived to restore several forfeited estates, and to make up to the ex-Protector, at least for pecuniary losses, as far as in him lay,—for the Earl of Warwick, though there was no love lost between them, was yet in no wise averse to the union of his eldest son, Lord Lisle, with Lady Mary Seymour, Somerset’s daughter.
The Duke was occasionally called upon to take part in public affairs, and on the reassembling of Parliament, the Commons, with whom he was still popular, agitated for his re-election to the Protectorate, but Warwick was bent on his destruction.
He went so far as to accuse Somerset of a design to murder him, on which, and many other counts, the Duke was once more sent to the Tower, together with many other noblemen, and the next day was followed thither by his Duchess, Sir John Thynne, and several more.
Wearied, exposed to constant examinations, and arraigned at Westminster Hall, he demanded a trial of his peers, was acquitted of high treason, but found guilty of felony, and re-conducted to the Tower.
On his road thither there was a demonstration in his favour, for he still stood high with the people; he remained two months in prison, and was then brought out, and, in spite of the poor young King, condemned to die on the scaffold.
On the 22d of January 1552 every householder in London was forbidden to stir abroad, (a rescue being feared,) nevertheless Tower Hill was crowded long before the Duke appeared, surrounded by guards and officials.
On reaching the platform, he kneeled on both knees, and fervently commended his soul to God, then, rising, ‘with great alacrity, and cheerfulness,’ he addressed the people in quiet, measured terms. He declared his innocence, his loyalty to the King, his love of his country, and of the reformed religion, to which he admonished his hearers to be faithful. Here he was interrupted by a strange kind of tumult, and Sir Anthony Browne appearing on horseback in the crowd, the people cried aloud, ‘A pardon! a pardon! God save the King!’ But he told them there was no hope, and all the time his arch-enemy, Lord Warwick (or rather Northumberland, as he then was), stood untouched, shaking his cap, and making signs to the people to be quiet.
The Duke of Somerset resumed his discourse, exhorting his hearers to be loyal to the King, and submissive to the laws, concluding with, ‘I wish you all to bear witness that I die in the faith of Jesus Christ, desiring you to help me with your prayers.’
We have not space to make more extracts from a dying speech which for manliness, forbearance, and piety could scarcely be surpassed. Unbuckling his sword, he presented it to the Lieutenant of the Tower, gave the executioner money and rings, bade all near him graciously farewell, then, kneeling down, arranged his collar, and covered his face, which showed ‘no signs of trouble,’ with his handkerchief.
He was required to rise up, once more, to remove his doublet, and again laying his head on the block, and calling thrice, ‘Lord Jesu save me!’ received the death-stroke.
The head and body were both interred in the north side of St. Peter’s Church in the Tower.
There is a story told of a fair enthusiast, who dipped her handkerchief in the ‘martyr’s’ blood, and afterwards flourished it in the face of the Duke of Northumberland, when he, two years later, was led captive through the City, for his opposition to Queen Mary. Varying as have been the verdicts on the character of the Protector Somerset, surely no one can deny him the attributes of courage, energy, and piety. He had enthusiastic friends, and bitter enemies, among the last his own brother. Edward, first Duke of Somerset, was remarkably handsome, majestic, and naturally of a melancholy aspect, ‘every inch a gentleman.’ His extravagance, both in public and private matters, was undeniable, and he affected great splendour in dress, not only on State occasions. During his imprisonment he employed himself in works of a religious character. He was twice married—first to Catherine, daughter and co-heir of Sir William Fillol of Woodlands, county Dorset. Respecting this lady there exists a mystery: there were rumours of misconduct, and certain it is her son was disinherited.
There seems little doubt that the Duke’s second wife (the daughter of Sir Edward Stanhope of Rampton, county Notts), a proud, ambitious, and violent woman, worked on her husband’s mind, to the detriment of her predecessor’s children, but in spite of it all, the coveted titles devolved, after some generations, on Catherine Fillol’s descendants, ancestors in the direct line to the present Duke of Somerset. Anne Stanhope brought her husband three sons and six daughters.