Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, was Protector and the most prominent

personality in English politics for a period only just exceeding two

years and a half. As Earl of Hertford, he grasped the reins of power

when Henry VIII. died; but since the fall of Thomas Cromwell, Henry had

reigned without allowing any of his servants to occupy a pre-eminent

position, and the Earl of Hertford had certainly not been an exception.

After his overthrow in the autumn of 1549, his political influence

was never strong enough to affect the measures of his successor: it

sufficed merely to bring about his own execution as a preventive

measure. The whole reign of Edward VI. is, in fact, quite sharply

divided into the two periods of the Seymour ascendency and the Dudley

ascendency; but the distinction somehow seems to be very commonly

overlooked, and Somerset is not only credited with his own doings or

misdoings, but with a goodly share of those for which Northumberland

was responsible, and with which Somerset was entirely out of sympathy.

It would appear, however, that it would be difficult to find two men

whose ideas were more thoroughly antagonistic than those of Somerset

and Northumberland: a view not very easily reconcilable with the

popular verdict, which seems to regard Somerset as being a weaker if

rather more amiable edition of his rival. It is certainly well that

the latest detailed study of the Protector’s career should have at

least sufficed to make the old method of treating him inexcusable

for the future. Without accepting all Mr. Pollard’s inferences as to

his subject’s abilities and character, it must be recognised that

the portrait presented in his _England under Protector Somerset_, if

somewhat “flattered,” will have to be seriously reckoned with by all

future historians of the period.

[Illustration: _PROTECTOR SOMERSET_

_From a Painting by_ HOLBEIN]

Nevertheless, it may be doubted whether the impression left by that

volume is quite what the author intended to convey. The suggestion

certainly is that the Protector was really a great man who only failed

because he was too much in advance of his age. But in fact, while he

possessed certain qualities essential to the great statesman though

by no means requisite for a successful politician, he lacked others

which are necessary to either character. Some of the projects for

which he laboured most strenuously were wrecked, not because they

were out of reach, but because of his own inherent incapacity for

adapting means to ends; and the general effect of his efforts was not

to bring the objects he had in view within nearer reach, but to make

them more difficult of attainment than they were before. Failure is no

condemnation. Wiclif failed, and Huss failed; but they made the

Reformation possible. Somerset failed, and there was hardly one of his

aims which had been advanced a single step by his action. A statesman,

to deserve the title in its full sense, must be an idealist in his

aims, but practical in his methods. The unpractical statesman may

deserve our sympathy and our admiration; but we may not therefore give

him the full meed of applause which belongs to the benefactors of the

race or nation. The unpractical idealist may be invaluable when he is a

voice only. When the control of public affairs falls into his hands, he

is a public danger.

II

THE PROTECTOR AND HIS PROBLEMS

Edward Seymour was born about 1505: of good family, but not of high

rank, though there was a strain of Plantagenet blood on the mother’s

side. At any rate, the Seymours were connected with the Court, and the

future Protector was still a boy when he was holding offices associated

with Royalties. When Henry VIII. tired of Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour was

the new spouse on whom his choice fell. The marriage naturally brought

advancement to her brother; and though she did not long survive the

birth of her son, Seymour, who had by this time been appointed to the

Privy Council and raised to the earldom of Hertford, continued to enjoy

favours as a man of undoubted talents and attractive personality--and

uncle of the heir apparent. Favours, however, meant very little in

the way of power. He discharged various functions and took part in

sundry military operations in France and Scotland; but apart from one

smart action near Boulogne, very little real credit attaches to his

performances, which consisted for the most part in sacking the city of

Edinburgh, and laying waste the Scottish border with rather more than

usual in the way of burning and devastation.

Such as they were, however, these achievements sufficed to bring

him some prestige as a commander. If there was nothing particularly

brilliant about them, the same comment applies generally to those of

his fellows and rivals. There was no one marked out by his talents

to take up the reins of government when the king should die and be

succeeded by a nine-year-old son. But it was fairly obvious that either

the Howards, or Hertford in virtue of his relationship to the young

Edward, must occupy the leading position. Intrigues and the folly of

Surrey turned the scale against the Howards; Surrey and his father were

both attainted; the former was executed and the latter escaped only

through Henry’s death. Hertford was inevitably the man of the hour.

There was no manner of doubt about the succession. Henry left only

one son, and that son’s legitimacy was unchallenged. But by a wholly

unique measure, Henry had been empowered to fix by will not only the

course of succession after his son but the method of carrying on the

government during Edward’s minority. The will, when produced, was

found to vest the control in a council of executors, giving priority to

none, but remarkable as excluding Bishop Gardiner from the list. The

genuineness of the document has been disputed, but probably without

sufficient reason. At any rate, as it stood, its provisions were very

far from satisfying Hertford’s ambitions, and it is hard to see how

any one could have had a personal interest in giving it such a shape.

Certainly he had none, and his immediate efforts were directed to

inducing the new Council to alter its own constitution fundamentally.

For two days the king’s death was kept secret, while Hertford laid

his plans in conjunction with Paget, who had possession of the will.

When the Council was summoned and the will produced, a proposal was

immediately sanctioned appointing Hertford Lord Protector of the realm

and of the king’s person. The assent of the king and the peers was

formally obtained, and a few weeks later the appointment was confirmed

by the king’s authority under the Great Seal. In the interval there had

been a general distribution of honours, Hertford himself being made

Duke of Somerset. Also the one member of the Council from whom serious

opposition was to be feared, Wriothesley the Lord Chancellor (now

made Earl of Southampton), justified his own removal by transgressing

his powers. Somerset’s position was thus for the time at least made

impregnable.

Henry VIII. himself and his second great minister Cromwell had

conducted the government of the country on autocratic lines under

colour of parliamentary forms, until Parliament itself assigned, not

to the Crown as such, but to Henry personally, what amounted to the

power of legislation by Royal Proclamation. Somerset, though without

this statutory power, continued to make a free use of proclamations,

such being in effect the system to which the country had become

accustomed. He did not appreciate the change which had taken place. For

the successful exercise of those powers a personality was needed which

commanded unquestioning obedience, coupled with an unerring sense of

the limits of endurance in the subjects. In neither respect was the

Protector endowed with the necessary qualities.

There were problems enough to be dealt with to have daunted a master

of statecraft. Over the Channel, there was France, aggrieved because

England was just now holding Boulogne in pawn. The veteran Francis I.

followed his English contemporary and rival to the grave in a very

few weeks, and the son who succeeded him was by no means friendly to

England. Across the northern border there was Scotland, with a baby

queen, a queen-mother who was one of the Guise family who were in

the ascendant in France, and a dominant party which in its national

sympathies was French, and, in the religious point of view, regarded

Henry as a schismatic and all advocates of the Reformation as heretics.

At home, it was quite certain that the removal of Henry’s heavy hand

would be followed by a renewal of the strife in the Church between

the followers of the “Old Learning,” headed by Gardiner, Bonner and

Tunstal, and those of the New, whose chief was Archbishop Cranmer. In

addition, there was a grave social problem.

For a full half century a steady process had been at work throughout

rural England of extending sheep-farming at the expense of cultivation.

It was a process which paid the land-owners, owing to the large demands

from abroad for English wool. But it was not equally satisfactory to

the agricultural labourer, who was deprived of his customary employment

(since sheep-farming required far fewer hands) and found no adequate

compensation as yet in the industrial growth of towns. The evil was

aggravated by the iniquitous manner in which landholders systematically

seized every opportunity of appropriating common lands. In the main,

this was the outcome of natural economic tendencies, which repeated

attempts at legislative interference entirely failed to hold in check.

But these troubles had been directly intensified by the action of

Henry’s government for more than ten years past. The dissolution of

the monasteries had deprived the peasantry of an easy-going and on

the whole kindly group of landlords, and replaced these by another

group who were generally greedy and rapacious. Moreover, the wholesale

and monstrous debasement of the coinage, an expedient to which Henry

had been driven by the depletion of the exchequer caused by his

extravagance, had brought about a corresponding drop in effective

wages, besides shaking financial stability and commercial confidence,

with the unfailing disastrous results. From all of which, wide-spread

misery and want were prevalent, more particularly in the rural

districts.

These problems, we have said, might well have daunted even a master of

statecraft. But for each of them the sanguine duke had his solution.

It was with no mere paltry self-seeking designs that he had grasped

at power. He had elected himself to the office of saviour of society:

to the great disgust of some of those members of the Council who had

connived at his elevation, in the confident belief that his interests

and their own were identical, and would be the first objects at which

his government would aim.

III

SOMERSET AND SCOTLAND

At the outset, it was to Scotland that the Protector gave his attention.

Two hundred years before the first Tudor ascended the throne of

England, one of the ablest rulers this country has known realised

that the union of England and Scotland as a single nation was an

eminently desirable object. He sought to achieve that object by force

of arms. He conquered Scotland, and Scotland rebelled. Every time he

reconquered her, she rebelled again. His last attempt at invasion was

foiled by his own death, and during the reign of his incompetent son,

Scotland finally and decisively threw off the yoke he had attempted to

impose. Every subsequent attempt to reimpose that yoke was foiled.

Scottish barons might and did take pay from English kings, but in

general terms it is safe to say that the expectation of an attempt at

the armed conquest of the northern country was the one thing which

could effectively, if only temporarily, induce the factions of the

Scottish nobility to lay aside their personal and family feuds, and

unite in resistance to the Southron. Another method of reconciliation

had attracted the astute Henry VII., who married his eldest daughter

to the Scots king--not indeed with the definite expectation that a

union of the two crowns would result, but still with the _arrière

pensée_ that such a result was not impossible. From the fatal day of

Flodden till the death of Henry VIII., Scotland had been alternately

the prey of rival factions, and the English king had found that the

simplest way of keeping his northern neighbours from becoming dangerous

was to foster those rivalries. He had gone out of his way to prevent

his elder sister’s offspring from inheriting the English throne, by

postponing their claims in his will to those of her younger sister’s

descendants. But he had on the one hand been favourably disposed to the

idea that his own boy should marry the infant queen of Scots when the

two were old enough; and he had more than once implicitly, if not quite

explicitly, asserted the old claim of English suzerainty, with a view

to the ultimate subjection of the Scottish to the English crown if it

should prove convenient to try enforcing it.

Now at the moment of Henry’s death there was a party in Scotland which

depended for its chance of success very largely on English aid. This

was the Protestant section, which had just recently accomplished the

murder of Cardinal Beton. The Catholics looked to France and the

queen-mother’s Guise kinsfolk for support. Various important persons

were as usual quite ready to take either side, as opportunity might

render convenient. But the assassins of the Cardinal were still in

possession of the Castle of St. Andrews. It seemed clear that if

England gave active support to this section and prevented the arrival

of reinforcements to the other party from France, English influence

would predominate. If St. Andrews fell, the French party would acquire

complete ascendency.

Somerset had no lack of political imagination. The idea of the union

with Scotland appealed to him very strongly indeed. A less enthusiastic

advocate of that policy might very well have been content to let things

drift, reckoning that at worst Scotland would be no more willing

to submit to a French than to an English domination, and that the

moment of the almost inevitable anti-French reaction would be the

time for a _rapprochement_. Scotland might after all be postponed

to matters that were more immediately pressing. But there was an

obvious alternative--to espouse the cause of the Protestant leaders

in Scotland, confirm them as a heartily Anglophil party thoroughly

committed at least to the English alliance, and establish them in a

secure ascendency.

Neither of these courses, however, would achieve the solution on

which the Protector was bent--the union of the two countries under a

single Crown. It was true that there were plenty of Scots who in the

abstract regarded such a union as desirable, and had expressed approval

of the particular means proposed to that end--the marriage of Edward

and Mary. If the sexes of the children had been reversed, the scheme

might have run smoothly enough. But the Scottish idea of a union meant

a union on equal terms, and anything which pointed to a danger of the

smaller country being subordinated to the larger was apt to kindle a

fierce flame of opposition. It would require a great deal of diplomatic

tact to convince the Scottish nation at large that the contemplated

marriage would not be turned to account so as to subordinate Scotland.

If England now took up the cause of the Protestants, it was more than

probable that when they were in power they would find sufficient

reasons for evading the marriage. The Scots lords who had expressed

approval were already making it clear that they did not intend to be

bound by their past declarations.

Somerset desired the union by assent. But if the Scots would not

assent, he meant to enforce it. The object in view was excellent, the

method was ruinous. He saw nothing for it but invasion. The castle

of St. Andrews fell, and the party friendly to England lost ground.

Somerset dropped hints about the old claim of suzerainty, and Scottish

indignation grew. His own previous record in Scotland did not encourage

confidence in his good intentions. Early in September, Somerset crossed

the border at the head of a large army. It availed nothing that the

Scots army was completely shattered at Pinkie Cleugh--a defeat due to

the same blunder which had given Surrey the victory at Flodden and was

to give Cromwell the victory at Dunbar, as well as to the superiority

in artillery of the smaller English army--and that Edinburgh was again

sacked. Somerset’s plans had not extended to preparing an army of

occupation. The principal effect of the invasion, in strict accordance

with unvarying precedent, was to set the whole of Scotland in fierce

opposition to the union, with the result that shortly afterwards little

Queen Mary was embarked on French ships and carried off to France,

to be placed under the care of her Guise uncles and betrothed to the

French Dauphin, while the Guise ascendency in Scotland was confirmed.

Had the Protector been actuated mainly by a desire to achieve

popularity, the Pinkie campaign would have been a brilliant success.

But his aims were far higher. His conception of a union with Scotland

was so far in advance of his times that it was not even realised by the

union of the crowns in 1603, or until the Treaty of Union in 1707, more

than 150 years later. That in itself is sufficient to demonstrate that

his statesmanship had its quite admirable side. On the other hand, the

means by which he endeavoured to secure those aims were absolutely the

worst that could have been devised. The Pinkie campaign placed them

more completely and hopelessly out of reach than any inaction or any

other measures he could possibly have contrived. That is sufficient

to explain why his government was on the whole so disastrous. He had

thrown Scotland into the arms of France, and made France herself more

instead of less hostile to England.

IV

SOMERSET’S RELIGIOUS POLICY

The Protector’s praiseworthy desire for a union with Scotland was in

part at least subsidiary to his enthusiasm for the Reformation. The

desire to see Scotland Protestant as well as England was one of his

motives, and a strong one. And for his efforts in the cause of the New

Learning in England he deserves more praise and less censure than is

usually accorded to him. The historians with what may be called the

anti-Protestant bias rarely distinguish between what was done under his

rule and what was done under that of his successor in power. Those with

a Protestant bias are apt to condemn him as lukewarm. Very rarely is

it realised that under his government a degree of toleration prevailed

such as was never contemplated by other Protestant rulers of his times,

still less by Catholic princes. Yet here as in all else his work was

marred by his lack of judgment, and still more--unhappily--by personal

defects in his character.

The religious problem was obviously the most prominent of those which

demanded solution on the death of Henry VIII. That monarch had broken

with the Papacy, revolutionised the relations of the State and the

ecclesiastical organisation in England, dissolved the monasteries,

appropriated their revenues, condemned a few superstitious practices,

and authorised a version of the Scriptures in the vernacular. There

he had stopped. No dogmatic innovations had been admitted, and a

large number of practices which moderate as well as extreme reformers

desired to see altered had been retained. Obedience had been enforced

by stringent legislation, and the Six Articles Act was a standing

menace to innovators. Still, if in his later years Henry refused to go

forward, he also declined to go backward. The party of reaction, when

they attempted to subvert Cranmer’s position in the royal favour, only

got a sharp reprimand for their pains. Yet the Reformation had reached

a stage at which standing still had become impossible.

In framing the list of his executors, it seems as though the king’s

intention had been to preserve a balance, with a slight leaning towards

the forward school; a leaning which would almost have been reversed if

Gardiner had been included. Cranmer was balanced by Tunstal, Hertford

by Wriothesley. Dudley, Herbert, and Russell, were avowedly on the

Protestant side. Others were pronounced supporters of the old order,

and others again like Paget would be guided by circumstances. The

moment, however, that Hertford’s ascendency was assured, it was quite

certain that the forward movement would be set on foot. Cranmer took in

the pulpit the earliest opportunity of likening the boy-king to Josiah,

thereby very definitely fore-shadowing a war against “images.”

Nevertheless, there was nothing in the way of a violent revolution

instituted. Broadly speaking, measures of which Cranmer had openly

avowed himself in favour during the late king’s reign were resorted to

perhaps more hastily than was wise. The Archbishop’s Book of Homilies

received the sanction which Henry had refused to it. Injunctions based

on those of Thomas Cromwell were issued, chiefly directed against

“abused images,” and a visitation by Royal Commission was presently set

on foot. While Somerset was still in Scotland, Gardiner and Bonner, the

bishops of Winchester and London, offered some opposition on the ground

that these measures were inconsistent with the later ecclesiastical

legislation of Henry; and both were placed under easy confinement in

the Fleet. So far, however, there was nothing which could be called

innovation; there was merely a renewal of Cromwell’s activity on the

same lines--accompanied in practice by very much the same irreverence

and violence.

When Convocation and Parliament met for the winter, there was no

appearance of any violence being done to ecclesiastical consciences.

All the bishops were Henry’s bishops, not Somerset’s; and though

they did not prove unanimous in Parliament, a majority of them were

favourable to the reforming measures introduced--with the exception

of the Chantries Act, which was in itself quite obviously nothing

but the completion of an approved policy. Acts for the suppression

of irreverent language about the Sacrament, and enjoining the

administration of the Communion in both kinds, were passed actually at

the instance of the clergy themselves, while the clerical demand for

permission to marry was ignored. The Six Articles Act was repealed,

but that was nothing more than an abolition of penalties, like the

accompanying repeal of the statutes _de heretico comburendo_. During

1548, there were proclamations enjoining the Lenten fast, for the

sake of the fisheries; an Order of service for Communion was issued,

which, however, only gave effect to the recent Act; there was a fresh

Injunction against Images; preaching was restricted to the Homilies,

except for licensed preachers--a custom frequently enforced in the last

reign. In form, there was still no innovation.

In the winter of 1548-9 came the First Prayer Book of Edward VI., and

the Act of Uniformity. The Prayer Book was a compromise, which admitted

of such divergent interpretation that the most and the least advanced

of the bishops could use it without straining their consciences: and

the Act of Uniformity, while it penalised disobedience on the part of

the clergy, laid no burden whatever upon laymen.

Now we have here reviewed summarily the whole of the ecclesiastical

legislation for which Somerset was responsible. On the face of it,

the changes he introduced were by no means revolutionary. Even the

new Prayer Book in effect required no one to accept any new doctrine.

The repeal of penal acts practically permitted but assuredly did not

enforce the teaching of the doctrines against which they had been

directed. Not a single victim was sent to the stake; not a single

bishop was deprived of his See. During Somerset’s absence in Scotland,

Gardiner and Bonner were placed in confinement for disobeying the

Injunctions. Both were released after some three months. Again, the

next year, Gardiner adopted a critical attitude which led to his being

imprisoned again in what was no doubt a high-handed fashion; and

almost at the moment of the Protector’s fall, Bonner was again sent to

prison for disobeying the Act of Uniformity. There is only one other

act of persecution charged to Somerset which even calls for comment,

the condemnation of Joan Bocher; and that is only to remark that as a

matter of fact it was after his fall that her execution was sanctioned.

It was not till he had been ousted from power by Dudley that the

zealots dominated the reforming party.

Ten Tudor Statesmen · 第 12 / 23 段