THE LADY JANE GOES TO SEYMOUR PLACE
All Thomas Seymour’s schemes and conspiracies and political and
domestic intrigues were brought to nought by his wife’s death, and
he swiftly realised that the danger of his position was immeasurably
increased by her decease. She had been an effective barrier between
himself and his foes, for nothing could persuade the King to consider
her otherwise than with great affection, as one of the only two persons
he really loved (his young companion Barnaby Fitzpatrick being the
other). Sudeley was now, metaphorically speaking, at sea in a storm,
and seeking safety in any port he could discover. For a few days his
troubles seem to have dazed him. He may, indeed, have loved his wife
and have sincerely mourned her. There is not the slightest reason
to believe that there was any solid foundation for the accusations
brought against him of having ill-treated and even poisoned the Queen.
A few weeks before her death, on the contrary, he swore, with one of
his horrible oaths, that if any man “speak ill of his Queen in his
presence, he would take his fist to his ear, be he of the lowest or of
the highest.” After his wife’s death, Sudeley was at first inclined to
break up his household and throw himself once more into public life.
He even went so far as to dismiss some of his servants, and returned
to Hanworth, the late Queen’s dower-house in Middlesex, taking Lady
Jane and her attendants with him. Hence he wrote to Dorset to say that,
broken-hearted as he was at the departure of the Queen, his wife, he
could not keep the Lady Jane any longer,[139] and begged him to send
for her. By 17th September, however, he seems to have cheered up
considerably, for he dispatched another letter to Bradgate, which runs
as follows:--
“My last letters, written at a time when, partly with the Queen’s
Highness’s death I was so amazed that I had small regard either
to myself or my doings, and partly then thinking that my great
loss must presently have constrained me to have broken up and
dissolved my whole house, I offered unto your Lordship to send my
Lady Jane unto you whensoever you would send for her, as to him
that I thought would be most tender on her. Forasmuch, since being
both better avised of myself, and having more deeply digested
whereunto my power [_i.e._ property] would extend; I find, indeed,
that with God’s help, I shall right well be able to continue my
house together, without diminishing any great part thereof; and,
therefore, putting my whole affiance and trust in God, have begun
anew to stablish my household, where shall remain not only the
gentlewomen of the Queen’s Highness’s privy chamber, but also
the maids that waited at large, and other women being about Her
Grace in her lifetime, with a hundred and twenty gentlemen and
yeomen, continually abiding in the house together. Saving that now,
presently, certain of the maids and gentlewomen have desired to
have license for a month or such thing, to see their friends, and
then immediately to return hither again. And, therefore, doubting
lest your Lordship might think any unkindness that I should by my
said letters take occasion to rid me of your daughter, the Lady
Jane, so soon after the Queen’s death, for the proof both of my
hearty affection towards you, and my good-will to her, I am now
minded to keep her until I next speak with your Lordship, which
should have been within these three or four days if it had not been
that I must repair to the Court, as well to help certain of the
Queen’s poor servants with some of the things now fallen by her
death, as also for mine own affairs, unless I shall be advertised
from your Lordship to the contrary. My lady my mother shall and
will, I doubt not, be as dear unto her [_i.e._ Lady Jane] as
though she were her own daughter; and for my part I shall continue
her half-father, and more, and all that are in my house shall be as
diligent about her as yourself would wish accordingly.”[140]
To this letter Dorset replied as follows, in a particularly fine
specimen of the strange orthography of those days:--
“My most hearty commendations unto your good lordship not
forgotten. When it hath pleased you by your most gentle letters to
offer me the abode of my daughter at your lordship’s house, I do
as well acknowledge your most friendly affection towards me and
her therein, as also render unto you most deserved thanks for the
same. Nevertheless, considering the state of my daughter and her
tender years, wherein she shall hardly rule herself as yet without
a guide, lest she should, for lack of a bridle, take too much the
head, and conceive such opinion of herself, that all such good
behaviour as she heretofore hath learned, by the Queen’s and your
most wholesome instructions, should either altogether be quenched
in her, or at the least much diminished, I shall, in most hearty
wise, require your lordship to commit her to the governance of her
mother, by whom for the fear and duty she oweth her, she shall most
easily be ruled and framed towards virtue, which I wish above all
things to be most plentiful in her; and although your lordship’s
good mind, concerning her honest and godly education be so great,
that mine can be no more; yet weighing that you be destitute of
such one as should correct her as a mistress, and admonish her as a
mother, I persuade myself that you will think the eye and oversight
of my wife shall be in this respect most necessary.”
Then follows a mention of the proposed scheme for uniting the Lady Jane
to the King; and the letter concludes thus:--
“My meaning herein is not to withdraw any part of my promise to
you for her bestowing; for I assure your Lordship, I intend, God
willing, to use your discreet advice and consent in that behalf
and no less than mine own; only I seek in these her tender years,
wherein she now standeth, either to make or mar (as the common
saying is), the addressing [the forming] of her mind to humility,
soberness, and obedience. Wherefore, looking upon that fatherly
affection which you bear her, my trust is that your lordship,
weighing the premises, will be content to charge her mother with
her, whose waking eye in respecting her demeanour, shall be,
I hope, no less than you as a friend and I as a father would
wish. And thus wishing your lordship a perfect riddance of all
unquietness and grief of mind, I leave any further to trouble your
lordship. From my house at Bradgate, the 19th of September.--Your
lordship’s to the best of my power,
HENRY DORSET”[141]
(Endorsed)
“To my very good Lord Admiral: give this.”
With this precious epistle was enclosed another, from the Lady
Frances:--
“And whereas,” says she, “of a friendly and brotherly good will
you wish to have Jane my daughter, continuing still in your house,
I give you most hearty thanks for your gentle offer, trusting,
nevertheless, that, for the good opinion you have in your sister
(Lady Frances herself), you will be content to charge her with her
(_i.e._ charge Lady Frances with Lady Jane), who promiseth you, not
only to be ready at all times to account for the ordering of your
dear niece [Lady Jane], but also to use your counsel and advice on
the bestowing of her, whensoever it shall happen. Wherefore, my
good brother, my request shall be, that I may have the oversight
of her with your good will and thereby shall have good occasion to
think that you do trust me in such wise, as is convenient that a
sister be trusted of so loving a brother. And thus my most hearty
commendations not omitted, I wish the whole [or holy] deliverance
of your grief and continuance of your lordship’s health. From
Bradgate, 19th of this September.--Your loving sister and assured
friend,
FRANCES DORSET”[142]
(Endorsed)
“To the right Honourable and my very
good Lord, my Lord Admiral.”
It will be noted that the Lady Frances evinces a quite sisterly
affection for the Lord Admiral, adopting him as her brother; and her
daughter, therefore, was to be considered as his niece.
After this correspondence, the Lady Jane was returned to Bradgate,
whither she proceeded with a semi-regal escort consisting of not less
than forty persons, including Mr. Rous or Rowse, controller of the Lord
Admiral’s household, and Mr. John Harrington, afterwards prominent at
Queen Elizabeth’s Court. On taking their leave of the young Princess,
these gentlemen assured her that all the maids at Hanworth were
expecting her back again. The wily Dorsets themselves had, indeed, made
up their minds she should return, though in their heart of hearts they
had something besides Lady Jane herself in view. It was somewhere about
20th September that Lady Jane arrived at Bradgate. On or about the 23rd
of that month the Marquis and his spouse journeyed to London, where
they met Sir William Sharington,[143] Seymour’s _âme damnée_, and the
Lord High-Admiral himself. These gentlemen had a very secret business
to discuss, the nature of which must now be described. The Dorsets,
not then wealthy people, were deep in debt. Now Seymour was known to
be rich, for, in addition to his own fortune, he had just inherited
that of the Queen, and, so far, his brother had given no signs of any
intention of confiscating it. The Dorsets, therefore, intimated to
Sharington that he would do well to make Sudeley understand that if
he desired to renew his guardianship of the Lady Jane, he must agree
to give her parents £2000, £500 to be paid down at once, on account.
It should be here remarked that Sudeley, by voluntarily relinquishing
the care of the Lady Jane Grey, had given up his guardianship, which,
by the custom of those times, gave him more than parental rights over
her. It was his desire to renew his official charge that enabled the
Dorsets to make this extraordinary proposal to sell him their child
for what in those days was considered a large sum of money. When the
game was up and Sudeley in prison, the Dorsets threw the blame of this
transaction on everybody but themselves. The Lord Admiral, asserted
Lady Jane’s father in his deposition before the Privy Council, “was
so earnestly in hand with me and my wife, the Lady Frances, that in
the end, because he would have no nay, we were content that Jane
should return to his house.” Indeed, Sudeley, not content to treat
so important a matter only through the medium of Sharington, himself
appeared at Dorset’s town house and interviewed the Marquis, who
admitted in the above-mentioned deposition that, “At this very time and
place he renewed his promise unto me for the marrying of my daughter to
the King’s Majesty, and he added, ‘If I may get the King at liberty, I
dare warrant you His Majesty will marry no other than Jane.’”
Whilst Sudeley was thus pretending, if nothing more, that he was
able to marry Jane to the King, could he but get possession of her,
the Marquis of Dorset was inditing a letter to the Lord Protector
which contained a passage referring to some negotiations he was
conducting with His Highness for the marriage of Lady Jane to the Earl
of Hertford, Somerset’s eldest son! “Item, for the maryage of your
graces sune to be had with my doghter Jane, I thynk hyt not met [meet]
to be wrytyn, but I shall at all tymes avouche my sayng.” Dorset’s
cunning must have nearly matched Sudeley’s! Young Hertford was the
lad mentioned in the papers of the time of Queen Mary as “contracted”
to Lady Jane Grey: in later years he married her sister Katherine.
Jane probably made his acquaintance in her childish days, when the
Seymours lived at Whitehall and she was in residence at the “Bluff
King’s” Court under the wing of Katherine Parr. Hertford was also one
of the band of young noblemen selected as companions for Prince Edward
under the tutelage of the learned Dr. Cheke; and probably had many a
romp with Jane, then a merry little girl. Later on he paid one or two
visits to Bradgate, the Lady Frances conceiving such a strong affection
for him that she was wont to call him her son. Here again the young
people must have been much together, and their childish friendship may
have inspired the Marquis of Dorset with the idea of uniting them in
marriage. However that may be, he certainly got as far as corresponding
with Somerset--though in the profoundest secrecy--about the matter.
Was his caution due to a fear of displeasing Sudeley? What is more
than probable is that the Lord Admiral got wind of the scheme, and
that his desire to get Jane away from her father and his own brother
and nephew was at the bottom of his readiness to pay so heavy a price
to resume her guardianship, for which object he used the likelihood
of her marriage with the King as a bait to catch the Marquis--who was
eventually “jockeyed” by both the Seymours, for no marriage with either
the King or Hertford ever took place.
Whilst Seymour was personally negotiating with the Marquis, the task
of persuading the Marchioness fell to Sharington. “Sir William
[Sharington] travailed as earnestly with my wife,” says Dorset, “to
gain her good-will for the return of our daughter to Lord Thomas
Seymour as he [probably Seymour is meant in this case] did with me; so
as in the end, after long debating and ‘much sticking of our sides,’ we
did agree that my daughter Jane should return to him.”[144]
Their bargain with the Admiral struck, the Dorsets hurried back to
Bradgate, whence they incited the dispatch of the following ingenuous
letter:--
“To the Right Honourable and my singular good lord, the Lord
Admiral.
“My duty to your lordship, in most humble wise remembered, with
no less thanks for the gentle letters which I received from you.
Thinking myself so much bound to your lordship for your great
goodness towards me from time to time, that I cannot by any means
be able to recompense the least part thereof, I purpose to write
a few rude lines to your lordship, rather as a token to show how
much worthier I think your lordship’s goodness, than to give worthy
thanks for the same, and these my letters will be to testify unto
you that, like as you have been unto me a loving and kind father,
so I shall be always most ready to obey your godly monitions and
good instructions, as becometh one upon whom you have heaped so
many benefits. And thus fearing I should trouble your lordship too
much, I most humbly take leave of your lordship.--Your most humble
servant during my life,
“JANE GRAYE”
(Endorsed)
“My Lady Jane, the 1st of Oct. 1548.”
With this letter the Lady Frances sent Sudeley another, in which she
again calls him her “very good lord and brother”: Jane considers him as
“a loving and kind father,” and her mother signs herself, “Your assured
and loving sister, Frances Dorset”--most friendly!
It was near Michaelmas when the Lord Admiral, with a numerous retinue,
including several ladies, arrived at Bradgate to carry the girl back
with him to Hanworth. Traces of his return journey may be found in
papers preserved in the Public Library at Leicester, which inform us
that “beer, cold meat, and ale was provided by the Mayor for my Lady
Jane and her escort, proceeding from Bradgate with the Lord Thomas
Seymour, to London.” Sudeley brought the £500 with him and gave it to
the father who, for the sake of filthy lucre, had not scrupled to hand
over his young daughter to a notorious profligate. Thomas treated the
matter jovially, saying “merrily” he would take no receipt for the
money, for “the Lady Jane herself was in pledge of that”; the Marquis,
on the other hand, sought to endue the affair with a more respectable
appearance by declaring the cash was “as it wer for an ernst peny of
the favour that he [Sudeley] wold shewe unto him [Dorset].” To our
eyes, there is, and can be, but one redeeming feature in the whole of
this sordid transaction--the fact, proved by sufficient evidence, that
Lady Jane Grey whilst under the Lord Admiral’s roof was treated not
only with respect, but with much kindness, and that, even allowing for
the fact that letters such as that already quoted were inspired by her
parents, she seems to have been genuinely attached to both Sudeley and
his mother.
Had Thomas Seymour contented himself with achieving eminence in any
one legitimate direction--the Navy, for instance--he might have
succeeded in winning both fame and honour. But he lacked the clearness
of judgment and power of reticence necessary to carry any one of his
more nefarious schemes to completion, and so ended in pitiable failure.
Whilst his brother was away fighting in Scotland, he had striven, and
with some success, to ingratiate himself with the young King. To this
end, as we have seen, he lent him various sums of money. He seized
every opportunity of belittling and even calumniating his brother, the
Protector, openly accusing him of conspiring against Edward’s liberty,
all of which the poor little King was only too eager to believe; for
Somerset, with his puritanic views, had not made the boy’s existence
very pleasant to him, persistently treating him as a little old man,
and suppressing all those amusements and sports which lads, even sickly
lads, love so dearly. It is said that, on one occasion, when he came
upon the King and Barney Fitzpatrick playing cards, he seized them in
a fury and threw them into the fire. He had striven, in a word, to make
Edward look at life as he saw it himself, through smoked Calvinistic
glasses that robbed it of all brightness.
The Duchess of Feria relates that Queen Mary once told her Edward VI
had confessed to her that he was very tired of sermons--not to be
wondered at, since the poor child had to hear one at least daily on
some dogmatic controversy or other, and these dull homilies often
lasted a good two hours. In fact, the royal lad was bored and “prayed”
to death. For more than a year after his accession to the throne he was
compelled to hear a daily Mass, celebrated according to the old rites
but with the Epistle and Gospel said in English. Interpolated into
this Latin service was the inevitable lengthy sermon preached by men
well known for their Reforming zeal, such as Canon William Barlow of
St. Osyth’s, in Essex, who became Bishop of Chichester in Elizabeth’s
reign; Dr. John Taylor; Dr. Redman, a violent opponent of the doctrine
of Transubstantiation; Dr. Thomas Becken; Dr. Giles Ayre, a bitter
enemy of Gardiner; and the extremely Protestant Dr. Latimer. John Knox,
who came to London in 1551, also preached before the King; but by that
time the Mass had been replaced by the services of the first Book of
Common Prayer. Knox was in a very bad temper with the Protector at the
time of his visit, and accused him of paying more attention to the
building of his new house in the Strand than to his (Knox’s) sermons.
As time went on, poor Edward had to listen to controversies in which
Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, Ridley, Bishop of Rochester, and
“that most zealous Papist,” Heath, Bishop of Worcester (afterwards,
under Mary, Archbishop of York), “debated and disputed” on such grave
subjects as Transubstantiation, the Intercession of Saints, Worship of
the Virgin, Prayers for the Dead, Purgatory, etc., and attend sermons
preached in the courtyard of Whitehall Palace, where Gardiner delivered
his last discourse on papal supremacy, which sent him to the Tower.
Contemporary evidence shows exactly how the audience was grouped round
the improvised rostrum built close to the walls of the palace, so
that the King might hear the preacher from an open window, where he
generally sat, notebook in hand, in the company of the Lord Protector,
and of Dr. John Cheke, his tutor. Aged people of both sexes were ranged
on benches close to the palace, whilst the general congregation,
standing, filled up the courtyard. The learned Nicholas Udall often
sat at a desk under the pulpit, taking shorthand notes of the sermon,
and by his means many of the more notable of these orations have been
preserved to this day. John Knox preached his last sermon before Edward
VI from the pulpit at Whitehall Palace. At many, if not at most, of
these pious exercises Lady Jane Grey, her mother and sister must have
assisted, for it was expected that all the great ladies of the Court
should attend; and consequently, in one or two old engravings of these
interesting functions, we behold them, wearing their “froze pastes” or
coifs, seated in rows, looking exceedingly sanctimonious, not to say
bored. There are numbers of young children among them, one or two of
whom have evidently fallen into a deep sleep.
Edward, extremely delicate from his birth, slightly deformed, with one
shoulder-blade higher than the other, weak eyes, and occasional attacks
of deafness, suffered terribly, we are told, from headaches, a fact
which causes little surprise, considering the number of sermons he was
forced to attend. The Lord Admiral, during the brief time he held the
King’s favour, altered all this. The sermons were reduced, the sports
and pastimes multiplied. No wonder, then, that of his two uncles Edward
VI preferred Thomas to Edward!
Hardly was Lady Jane installed at Seymour Place, whither she was
removed from Hanworth as soon as the weather grew cold, than her
guardian set himself to weave not one but half a dozen fresh intrigues.
Once more he planned to marry the Princess Elizabeth, or, failing her,
a little later on, his young ward, Lady Jane. He even endeavoured
to open a fresh correspondence with the Princess, and met with some
success; but the astute damsel made him a very politic response.
However impressed she may have been by the Admiral’s good looks, she
was well aware that he had compromised her once, and was resolved
there should be no second edition of the Chelsea business. Yet she
had the imprudence to send his Lordship letters through her servants,
and, thus encouraged, the Admiral began to make minute inquiries as to
her fortune and the management of her affairs. He also endeavoured
to find out the amount of the fortunes owned by Lady Jane Grey and
Princess Mary, and, in short, of all the marriageable ladies of the
royal family, not excluding Anne of Cleves. A report of these inquiries
coming to the knowledge of John Russell, the Lord Privy Seal, that
functionary thought it his duty to look into the matter, and seized an
opportunity when riding with the Admiral through the streets of London
to ask him his object point-blank. As they rode past Westminster Hall,
Russell turned to Seymour, saying, “My Lord Admiral, there are certain
rumours bruited of you which I am very sorry to hear.”
“What rumours?” demanded Seymour.
“I have been informed,” replied Russell, “that you mean to marry either
the Lady Mary or the Lady Elizabeth, or else the Lady Jane.”
Sudeley remained silent, and his interlocutor proceeded: “My Lord, if
ye go about any such thing, ye seek the means to undo yourself, and all
those that shall come of you.”
Sudeley, shaking his head, denied ever having had any such intention;
he “had no thought of such an enterprise.” And so, for the time being,
the conversation dropped. But a few days later, when the Lord Admiral
was again riding with his Lordship, he said to Russell, “Father
Russell, you are very suspicious of me; I pray you tell me who showed
you of the marriage that I should attempt, whereof ye brake with me the
other day.”
Russell answered, “I will not tell you the authors of the tale, but
they be your very good friends”; and he advised Seymour “to make
no suit of marriage that way”--meaning with Elizabeth or Mary, or
eventually with Lady Jane.
Nothing daunted, Seymour replied, “It is convenient for them to marry,
and better it were that they were married within the realm than in any
foreign place without the realm; and why might not I, or another man
raised by the King their father, marry one of them?”--in allusion to
the fact that Henry VIII had passed a law legalising the marriage of a
Princess of the Blood with a subject.
Russell warned him honestly, “My Lord, if either you, or any other
within this realm, shall match himself in marriage either with my Lady
Mary or my Lady Elizabeth, he shall undoubtedly, whatsoever he be,
procure unto himself the occasion of his undoing, and you especially,
above all others, being of so near alliance to the King’s Majesty.”
Then, bearing in mind the Lord Admiral’s love of money, Lord Russell
straightway asked, “And I pray you, what shall you have with either of
them?”
Here Seymour was on his own ground: “He who marries one of them shall,”
he said, “have three thousand pounds a year.”
“My Lord,” responded Russell, “it is not so, for ye may be well assured
that he shall have no more than ten thousand pounds in money, plate,
and goods, and no lands; and what is that to maintain his charges and
estates who matches himself there?”
“They must have three thousand pounds a year also,” said the Lord of
Sudeley.
Thereupon Russell lost his temper, and with some strong expressions
retorted “they should _not_.”
Seymour, likewise with an oath, asserted “that they _should_, and that
none should dare to say nay to it.”
Russell answered that he, at least, dared “say nay” to the Lord
Admiral’s greed, “for it was clean against the King’s will.” And so
they parted.
These inquiries about the royal ladies’ fortunes became known to the
Protector, possibly through Russell, and thus the whole intrigue was
brought to light.
Lady Jane at Seymour Place and in the possession of the Lord Admiral
was already a stumbling-block in the way of Somerset’s own matrimonial
schemes for his own son, and the discovery of the underhand manner in
which Thomas had endeavoured to supplant him in the King’s affections
goaded the elder man to fury. But Sudeley had grown reckless, and he
openly defied his all-powerful brother, and vaunted his determination
to oust him at any cost from his high seat.[145] He boldly set about
ingratiating himself with the yeoman class, which was embittered
against Somerset on account of his exactions; and Dorset, now his
willing tool, also strove to secure a following among the farmers and
gentlemen, on bad terms with the existing Government. The ladies of
the Court, who hated the arrogant Duchess of Somerset, were flattered
into a friendly feeling for the Lord Admiral and what he was pleased
to consider his just cause. To keep up his influence, he had secretly
bought over a hundred manors and stewardships, and he had arranged
with his scoundrelly friend, Sharington--who, to save his skin, turned
traitor--to secure sufficient ammunition and arms to store Holt
Castle, to which fortress he intended to convey the King. Thanks to
this man’s frauds on the Bristol Mint, my Lord of Sudeley got together
money enough to raise an army of 10,000 men. In addition to all this,
he was in league with no less than four distinct gangs of pirates or
privateers, and had established a sort of dépôt for stolen property
in the Scilly Isles, whither the cargoes of sea-plundered vessels
were taken to await removal to London. Here, then, was an array of
crimes and treasons enough to hang any man, even if he was the Lord
Protector’s brother! One fatal day Thomas made the egregious mistake of
approaching Wriothesley on the subject of obtaining the Protectorship.
He told him Dorset and Pembroke were on his side. “Beware what you are
doing,” replied Wriothesley gravely; “it were better for you if you
had never been born, nay that you were burnt quick alive, than that
you should attempt it.” Sudeley, somewhat dashed by this rebuff, next
sought the Earl of Rutland, and spoke to him in much the same impudent
and imprudent fashion. Rutland, when his visitor departed, went
straight to Wriothesley and told him what he had learnt. Both agreed to
reveal all they knew of the conspiracy to the Council. Several meetings
were held to inquire into the matter; and at length Somerset summoned
his brother to appear before him. Sudeley sent a flat refusal. Early in
the forenoon of 17th January 1549 Sir Thomas Smith and Sir John Baker
proceeded to Seymour Place, and there arrested the Lord Admiral, who
was conveyed by water to the Tower, after a passionate leave-taking
with his aged mother.[146]
To Lady Jane the trial and subsequent execution of her guardian must
have been a matter of intense and painful interest. She was still
his guest at Seymour Place when he was arrested, and she must have
witnessed the tragic parting of the unhappy mother from the son so
remorselessly torn from her aged arms to meet his doom. Whatever his
crimes and faults, the Lord of Sudeley had been a good son, and the
old Lady Seymour mourned him deeply till she died of her sorrows, on
18th October in the following year. She was buried with scant pomp. The
King, her grandson, and his Court did not even put on the customary
mourning, on the plea that black gowns did not really signify respect
to the dead, who were best remembered in the hearts and prayers of
those who survived them--certainly not a popular or contemporary
belief, for on the day following Lady Seymour’s death two State
funerals were celebrated with all those honours which were denied to
the remains of the grandmother of the reigning sovereign. There was
probably a political motive at the back of this want of respect, which
may perhaps be ascribed to the evil influence of Warwick, who, in his
desire to humiliate the Somersets, refused the honours due to the
corpse of the Protector’s mother.
Meanwhile, the destruction of Thomas Seymour was being prepared with
skill and secrecy. Whilst the foredoomed Admiral had been boasting all
over London of his immense influence, his foes, now that he was in
their power, subtly compassed his ruin by buying witnesses against him
and securing the goodwill of his numerous and venomous enemies. They
had long been spreading a rumour that he had poisoned the late Queen
Katherine in order to make an even higher alliance with one or other of
the heiresses to the throne. His scandalous proceedings with regard
to the Princess Elizabeth at Chelsea and Hanworth, and the unbecoming
manner in which he had regained possession of Lady Jane, were brought
up against him. Lady Tyrwhitt, one of the bedchamber ladies of the late
Queen his wife, was called to give certain damaging evidence, pointing
to a strong suspicion that Seymour had not only been most unkind to the
deceased lady, but had actually poisoned her food during the last few
days of her life, and set up the fever which carried her off within a
week of her child’s birth. Lord Latimer stated that Seymour, when Queen
Katherine had prayers said in his house morning and afternoon according
to the order of the Reformed Church, would get out of the way, and
swear on his oath that “The Book of Common Prayer was not God’s work
at all.” There was a merciless raking up of misdeeds, true or false,
of the man’s earliest youth--as, for instance, “that, in 1540, a woman
who was executed for robbery and child-murder had declared that the
beginning of her evil life was due to her having been seduced and
desolated by Lord Thomas Seymour.” The Dorsets were summoned from
Bradgate to give evidence in the matter of the wardship of their
daughter, and other witnesses were fetched from different parts of the
kingdom to give damaging testimony.[147]
During, though not at, Seymour’s trial, Elizabeth was subjected to a
private inquiry at Hatfield, and personally asked whether Mrs. Ashley
had encouraged her to marry the Admiral. This she declared she had
never done, adding that she did not believe Mrs. Ashley had said the
things attributed to her. The Princess also wrote the Lord Protector
a letter, dated from her house at Hatfield, saying she had learned
that vile rumours regarding her chastity were in circulation, and that
people had even gone so far as to spread abroad that she was confined
in the Tower, being with child by the Lord Admiral. The story, she
protested, was an outrageous slander, and she demanded that she might
be allowed to proceed to Court to disprove these evil reports. On this
momentous occasion, Elizabeth, considering her youth, displayed no
small amount of sagacity and also of that leonine spirit for which
she was afterwards celebrated. When confronted, however, with Mrs.
Ashley’s written evidence, she blushed to the roots of her hair, and,
abashed and breathless, returned the letter with trembling hands to her
inquisitors. Curiously enough, Elizabeth does not seem to have resented
Mrs. Ashley’s outspoken condemnation of her conduct with the Lord
Admiral. On the contrary, hearing of her arrest, she set to work to
save her from the clutches of the law, declaring the lady had been in
her service many years, and had exerted herself diligently to bring her
up in learning and honesty.
Elizabeth told Sir Robert Tyrwhitt, who was sent by the Council to
examine her on the subject of her intimacy with the Lord High-Admiral,
“that voices, she knew, went about London that my Lord High-Admiral”
should marry her, but added, with a smile, “It is but London
news”--evidently London was as much a centre of gossip in those days as
now. A little later she asserted that “she did not wish to marry him,
for she who had had him [meaning Katherine Parr] was so unfortunate.”
It would appear that Lady Browne (Surrey’s “fair Geraldine”) was also
a friend of Seymour’s, and that he went to her and asked her to break
up her household and come to stay with the Princess Elizabeth, so that
she might keep him posted as to what was going on in that Princess’s
circle. This the lady had agreed to do, but she was prevented by the
sudden illness and death of her old husband, the famous Master of the
Horse, Sir Anthony Browne. Parry, Elizabeth’s comptroller, seems also
to have favoured the Lord Admiral, although it was mainly owing to him
that the revelations concerning his mistress’s conduct with Seymour
were made public. On one occasion, when Parry was advising the Admiral
to leave off his attempt to court the Princess, he replied that “it
mattered little, for, see you, there has been a talk of late that I
should marry the Lady Jane,” adding, “I tell you this merrily--I tell
you this merrily.”
As for the said Admiral, all the world now turned against him,
excepting the late Queen’s brother, the Marquis of Northampton, his
other brother-in-law, Lord Herbert, and his deceased wife’s two
cousins, the Throckmortons, one of whom wrote the following homely
lines on the wretched man’s piteous plight:--
“Thus guiltless he through malice went to pot,
Not answering for himself, not knowing cause.”
No better proof can possibly be quoted in his favour, so far as the
accusation of his having murdered Katherine Parr is concerned, than the
fact that his wife’s closest connections remained his only friends in
his trouble.
Still Thomas Seymour stood out boldly for his innocence. He did not
deny his flirtation with Elizabeth; it was a mere romp between a man
and a child, with no harm in it beyond such as his enemies chose to
impute. But the poor man’s foes proved too much for him, and on 23rd
February he was brought face to face with his accusers, and condemned
by the Council without hearing or defence. The King, his nephew, seems
to have made some effort to save him, but the Council forced the boy
to sign the fatal warrant, which he delivered with a trembling hand,
the tears standing in his eyes, and this despite the fact that the
reference to Seymour’s death in the King’s _Journal_ contains not a
word of regret. Seymour had done him, personally, no great ill, and
appears to have shown him kindness on more than one occasion. Cranmer,
who ever ran with the hare and hunted with the hounds, hastened to
affix his signature to the document ordering the Admiral’s execution,
and this, as Hume observes, “in contravention of the Canon Law, and in
sheer spite.” The Bishop of Ely informed Seymour that his earthly life
was shortly to be ended, and a Catholic priest was sent to confess him;
but he is said to have refused these ministrations, as well as those of
a Protestant clergyman. He contrived, according to Latimer, to write
letters to the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth denying the accusations
against him, which letters he hid between the leather of one of his
servants’ shoe-soles. Suspected of serving his master too well, the
poor faithful creature was arrested, the letters discovered, and the
unfortunate man hanged without trial.
Without entering into any controversy as to the magnitude of Thomas
Seymour’s guilt, it may be admitted, in fairness to his brother
of Somerset, that, if the misdemeanours of a personal character
attributed to Sudeley rest on the gossiping evidence of women, the
graver charges of collecting stores of arms, raising an army to strike
a blow against his brother, and unscrupulously attempting to obtain
funds even through pirates and notorious swindlers, do in a measure
justify the severity of his punishment and excuse the infliction of an
apparently unnatural and fratricidal sentence of death. Somerset, with
all his faults, had a high sense of justice and of the responsibility
of his exalted office. His brother had offended not only as an ordinary
subject of the realm, but as a trusted servant of the nation, and his
treason and unscrupulous abuse of his position were beyond all pardon.
The voice of nature was stifled in the heart of the statesman, and thus
the Duke, with a tolerably clear conscience, signed a death-warrant
which must at the time have cost him a pang of horror and which has
since branded him as a merciless fratricide.[148]
The Lord of Sudeley’s rage against the Council, his brother, and his
enemies in general, when he heard himself condemned, knew no bounds and
admitted of no Christian forgiveness or resignation. He cursed them
one and all with every terrible oath his tongue could utter. He was
beheaded on Tower Hill on 20th March 1549, six months and some days
after the death of Queen Katherine Parr. His demeanour on the scaffold
caused great scandal: he refused to listen to the pastor deputed to
minister to him, and the attendants had much difficulty in forcing
him to kneel to receive the fatal stroke. He wrestled hard with the
executioner, who, being a strong man, hurled him down on the scaffold
and struck off his head at last, after a cruel hacking, due to his
desperate struggles.
For nearly a week after the death of the Admiral, Lady Jane remained
alone with her attendants in the desolate house in the Strand. Then
her father, Lord Dorset, came to London to take her back with him to
Bradgate.
On the Sunday after the execution, Hugh Latimer preached a sermon at
Paul’s Cross which for bitterness and uncharitableness has never been
surpassed. “This I say,” he remarked, “if they ask me what I think of
the Lord Admiral’s death, that he died very dangerously, irksomely, and
horribly.” “He shall be to me,” he furiously exclaimed, “Lot’s wife
as long as I live. He was a covetous man--a horrible covetous man. I
would there were no mo’ in England. He was an ambitious man. I would
there were no mo’ in England. He was a seditious man--a contemner of
the Common Prayer. I would there were no mo’ in England. He is gone. I
would he had left none behind him.”
The worst charge that posterity can bring against Somerset is not that
he signed his brother’s death-warrant, but that he seized the dead
man’s estates and even his wearing apparel, and despoiled his orphaned
child, the infant daughter of Katherine Parr.[149]
Princess Elizabeth learnt the death of the courtier she “loved most”
with a composure singular for so young a lady, simply remarking that he
was over clever--“a man of the greatest wit and the least judgment.”