by Derek Wilson
The hero returned to London on 8 September, having disbanded most of his troops but still accompanied by the hired mercenaries. The critical events of the next month were probably as complex and confusing for those involved in them as they have been for historians seeking to unravel them. By 14 October the Duke of Somerset had been removed from office and conveyed to the Tower. But how and by whom he was brought down are questions not easy to answer. All the players involved had their own game plans and the eventual outcome was the result of conflicting aims and ambitions. The simple analysis that presents Dudley returning from Norfolk to put into operation a preconceived plot, subtly using the Catholic members of the Council for his own ends, must be discarded. He moved from event to event and day to day.
The basic elements in the political situation were as follows: First, by now all the councillors realized that the nation was under
the overbearing rule of a self-centred man, greedy for private gain while severe on the profits of others, incompetent at handling all personal relations and disastrously incompetent in politics, well-meaning but erratic, willing to employ drastic instruments and ignore the basic elements of the constitution.31
Impervious as ever to the results of his policies, Somerset had, in recent weeks, received news that his captains had been obliged to abandon the Lowland forts which were supposed to keep the Scots within bounds and to cede control to Henri II of much of the territory round Boulogne. Heedless of his need for political allies, he had continued to antagonize the very men who were smothering the fires of rebellion. He wrote carping letters to Lord Russell about his conduct of the western campaign against the Prayer Book rebels and he offered Dudley considered affronts as hurtful as they were needless. When the successful commander of the Norfolk campaign suggested that his soldiers deserved some extra recompense for their effective and expeditious suppression of the rebellion, the Protector returned a curt refusal. What was more painful was Somerset’s rejection of a personal request. Young Ambrose Dudley had quitted himself well (or so his father believed) and he had arranged a method of rewarding him. One of his chief officers was an old campaigning friend, Sir Andrew Flammock. It may be that he sustained serious wounds during the fighting, for he drew up his will on 6 September and died a few months later. He and Dudley made an arrangement whereby Ambrose received the reversion of certain offices held by Flammock. When Dudley wrote to the Protector on the matter he received a reply which must have been intended as a deliberate snub. Not only was the grant refused, it was refused on the grounds that Somerset had decided to bestow this particular favour elsewhere, upon one of his own secretaries. It was bad enough that the reversion was given to a pen-pusher but what added insult to injury was the fact that the recipient, Thomas Fisher, was a one-time servant of the Dudleys who had transferred to the Protector’s household.
Such incidents made it plain that Somerset was quite unchastened by his increasing isolation. The only ace he held in an extremely weak hand was his control of the king’s household, and this he used in a desperate attempt to influence Edward and his companions against his potential rivals. Among the accusations brought against the Protector a few weeks later was,
. . . you declared and published untruly, as well to the King’s majesty as to other the young lords attendant upon his grace’s person, that the lords of the Council at London minded to destroy the King; and you required the King never to forget it but to revenge it. And likewise you required the young lords to put the King in remembrance thereof, to the intent to make sedition and discord between the King and his lords.32
Despite all that had happened in July and August Somerset’s popularity still stood high with the people and this constitutes the second element in the October crisis. They were prepared to excuse Somerset of bloodguilt arising out of the suppression of various groups of dissidents and happily heaped all the blame on local gentry and agents sent from London. In all his dealings with the encamped malcontents in various parts of east and central England Somerset had continued to show sympathy and offer concessions. One group of protestors demanded the early recall of parliament. Somerset agreed. Commotioners at Thetford told him that they did not approve the make-up of the local enclosure commission. Somerset invited them to put forward the names of those they would find acceptable. When anxious rebels in Hampshire asked for reassurance that they were all covered by the terms of the latest royal pardon, Somerset replied, ‘if his majesty might gain a million of gold to break one jot of it with the poorest creature in all his realm, he would never.’33 The ‘good duke’s’ rhetoric impressed and encouraged the lowborn advocates of social change. Many of them shared his own belief that he was a man of destiny, a man of the people, raised up to right the wrongs of generations. Somerset believed that he had deserved well of the common man. He trusted in popular support to protect him from his powerful enemies.
The third element and one which, in their different ways, both Somerset and his staunchest opponents relied on was the disunity within the Council. Though the majority were unanimous in their desire to end the duke’s autocracy they could not agree on the style of government that should replace it. The leading Catholics, Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, and Henry Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, hoped for and worked towards a complete reversal of the policies that had been followed since the last months of the old king’s reign. They were encouraged by divisions among the progressives and by changes in the composition of the Council which had weakened the Protector’s support. Sir Anthony Denny, the hugely influential evangelical councillor and courtier, died on 10 September and other changes to the Council, occasioned by death, promotion or demotion, had already brought onto the body men who were not card-carrying reformers. The evangelical party was in disarray and the two earls, in secret correspondence with the old fox, Stephen Gardiner, the imperial ambassador and the Catholic network in the shires, reasoned that, with careful planning, they could get rid of Somerset, reinstate the Bishops of Winchester and London and the Duke of Norfolk, offer the regency to Princess Mary and then purge the court and Council of all remaining heretics, as a prelude to restoring the old religion. While Dudley and Russell were absent on campaign the Catholics worked hard on their colleagues and persuaded some (Paget, Petre and, perhaps, St John and Rich) to change sides. Paget, writing to the imperial ambassador, expressed the hope that even Dudley might be brought to ‘a better position regarding religion’.
It was Dudley who constituted the fourth element in the situation. Not only was he the man of the moment with an impressive body of soldiery at his command, he was also the only councillor with sufficient charisma to command a following among the people who mattered, the lords, burgesses and knights of the realm together with the progressive intelligentsia. With Dudley’s support the chances of removing Somerset were high. Without it they were negligible. Any hope of a Catholic revival had always rested on driving a wedge between Seymour and Dudley. Wriothesley and Fitzalan had bided their time for two and a half years, deliberately cultivating Dudley and sympathizing with his mounting frustration at the Protector’s frequent snubs and rebuffs. In 1547 Wriothesley had incurred a debt of gratitude by agreeing to vacate Ely Place so that Dudley could take up the lease, thereby enhancing his prestige. By September 1549 Dudley’s patience had finally snapped and he was ready to enter into talks with the Catholic leaders. The only question was who was using whom.
The crisis of autumn 1549 evolved into a bloodless coup d’état carried out almost in camera but such an outcome was not inevitable. The clash of fears, ambitions and expectations extended far beyond the chambers of Westminster, Hampton Court and Windsor. The claims and counterclaims, the accusations and suspicions hurtled back and forth and eddied round about so vigorously that no auditor could determine the truth of things. To gauge the atmosphere in the tense uncertain autumn days of 1549 we need to listen to the rumours, slanders and calls to arms running through the capital and from the capital across much of England:
To all true lord
s and gentlemen and us the poor commons:
Let us rise with all our power to defend the King and Lord Protector against certain lords and gentlemen who would depose the Lord Protector and endanger the King . . .
(Handbill circulating in London)
Henry A. to all true Englishmen:
Be loyal and not deceived by crafty traitors who aim at one target and shoot at others. They have murdered the King’s subjects and now, fearing that the Lord Protector . . . would have redressed things in parliament to the ease of the commons, have conspired his death. That done, they will murder the King because of their ambition to restore popery . . . As for London, faithless Troy, Merlin says that twenty-three of its aldermen will lose their heads in one day, which God grant be shortly . . .
(Handbill circulating in London)
. . . under pretence of simplicity may rest much mischief, as I fear does in these men called ‘common welthes’ and their adherents . . . If words may be treason, none ever spoke so vilely as these ‘common welthes’ saying if they have no reformation before St Clement’s Day (23 November) they will seek another way . . .
(Letter of Sir Anthony Aucher from Dover to William Cecil)
A conspiracy has lately risen against the King and us, as was never seen before. It cannot be maintained without unheard of rumours. They say we have sold Boulogne to the French and withold soldiers’ wages . . . you are to hasten here for the King’s defence with such force as you have, causing the rest to follow . . . They are not ashamed to send posts abroad that we are already committed to the Tower and that we would release the bishops of Winchester and London and bring back the old mass.
(Letter of Somerset to Lord Russell and Sir William Herbert)
The Duke of Somerset, seeing his detestable treasons detected, levied many men to achieve his devilish purpose, to the great peril of the King and state, and also spreads false rumours against us the King’s council assembled here. Publish this in all places within your shrievalty and allow no men to be raised or molested by any orders not from us . . .
(The Council in London to all sheriffs)34
So each person interpreted events in his own way and read the signs of the confused times according to his best information.
When Dudley returned from Norfolk he received the applause of his fellow councillors but no word of official thanks in the name of the king or the Protector. In fact, there was little contact of any kind between Somerset, who spent the summer, when he was not on his estates, with the royal household at Hampton Court, and the ‘Council in London’. The duke’s habitual aloofness now contributed to his undoing. He had no first-hand knowledge of what Wriothesley, Dudley and others were saying and planning behind his back. He spurned negotiation and therefore could only feed off rumours of plots and suspicious troop movements.
Any ‘conspiracy’ was a long time in brewing. Dudley and the Catholic leaders had a series of meetings, no doubt sounding each other out very cautiously, careful not to commit themselves until they knew what reaction to expect. Van der Delft, the imperial ambassador, learned from Princess Mary that she had been approached about giving her blessing to a move against Somerset and the possibility of accepting the regency. Interestingly, in wisely declining to lend her name to a conciliar faction, she described Dudley as ‘the most unstable man in England.’ What she meant was that she regarded the earl as someone in two minds. She could not convince herself that he had thrown in his lot with her political friends or that he had turned his religious coat. Paget, and he may not have been alone, was trying to bring Dudley round to the old religion and Dudley seems to have encouraged them to hope by obliging his household to take up certain Catholic observances but Mary knew better than to read too much into such outward show – and so should we. Dudley had always been plagued by uncertainties when it came to his role in political affairs and he had good reason now for playing his cards close to his chest. He had convinced himself that Somerset must go but had no intention of allowing reactionaries to take his place and drag king and country back into the pre-Reformation era. In order to explore what the Catholic alliance had in mind Dudley himself rode out to Van der Delft’s country residence for what might now be called a ‘full and frank exchange of views’. Piece by piece he collected the information he needed about individuals and caucuses but still he kept his own counsels. In all probability he did not know himself what he would do.
It may be that these inconclusive debates would have dragged on for weeks or months had not a panicking Somerset accelerated the crisis. He planned a purge of the Council in order to fill vacant places with his own nominees. When the London men heard of this they responded by appointing, on their own authority, four new members, all Catholics. The London group had now become a rival government. Waverers were forced to choose between the ruler at Hampton and the rulers at Westminster. The councillors at court began drifting away to join their colleagues. It might still not have been too late for the Protector to open negotiations with the dissidents but, instead, he chose a trial of strength. On 30 September, he issued an order for all armed soldiers to leave the capital. He presumably intended to deprive his rivals of military backing and then march into London at the head of his own army to the cheers of the multitude. Yet critically he failed to make a move. There followed a few days of paralyzing, nail-biting indecision. At last, on 5 October, he issued what was effectively a declaration of war against the London councillors. It was an appeal, over the heads of all central and local authorities, to the common people:
The King to all subjects, to repair armed and with all haste to Hampton Court to defend the King and the lord protector, against whom a most dangerous conspiracy has been attempted.35
It was only the following day that Somerset sent messages to Lord Russell and Sir William Herbert, who still had armies in the field, to come to his aid.
The gloves were now off. The London councillors replied, on 6 October, with strongly worded appeals to the leaders of the shires:
The King is in danger because of the treason of the Duke of Somerset, who now has it rumoured that we of the council intend evil to his highness, hoping to deceive and be aided by the people. For the King’s surety we require you to let the people know the truth; and since he already gathers force, to put yourself in order with all the power you can and repair to us for the King’s service.36
On the same day Somerset set out for London with the king. He sent word ahead to the Lieutenant of the Tower, hoping to reach its security and overawe the city. The London councillors forestalled him and swore the guardian of the fortress to their cause. When the Protector realized that he was too late he turned and headed for Windsor Castle, the only other available stronghold. Armed contingents were already responding to his summons from a wide area of southern England and the Protector still had hopes of putting himself in a strong defensive position. He looked for the arrival of the western army within days. However, Russell and Herbert were more concerned about the ugly mood in the shires than Somerset’s predicament. They brought their men as far as Andover, then halted. Somerset now reaped the harvest of his high-handed attitude towards his commanders in the field. It must have been with some relish that the generals wrote to him on the 8 October:
. . . As long as we thought the nobility now assembled had conspired against the King, we proceeded with our company. But today we heard from the lords that they are loyal, which we believe, and that this great extremity proceeds only from private causes between you and them. We have therefore decided to levy as great a force as we may for the safety of the King and realm. Let the King not fear, and conform yourself, as these private causes produce universal displeasure. Let bloodshed be prevented by any means. We much dislike your proclamations and bills put about for raising the commons. Evil men will stir as well as loyal subjects . . . [my emphasis]37
The generals spoke for the majority of substantial men in the country who by now regarded Somerset as a demagogue and a rabble rouser. The duke had
boxed himself into a corner. His rivals had trained troops ranged against him and his only assets were his control of the king’s person and the growing number of ordinary countryfolk converging on Windsor. But it was an illusion to believe that he could rely on these. Edward was becoming very upset at being hustled round the country and used as a shield for his uncle’s protection. He was looking increasingly for advice and comfort to Cranmer and Paget, the only other councillors still in his entourage, and they were using their influence to draw Somerset back from disastrous confrontation. As for the people, to lead them against the forces of Dudley, Russell and Herbert would be to invite a bloody repetition of Dussindale. Later the same day the secretary, Sir Thomas Smith, was able to send word to London that the Lord Protector had bowed to the inevitable. Smith, one of the most honest as well as most brilliant scholars of his age, was loyal to Somerset long after others had deserted him. He told William Petre, his colleague, that the situation at Windsor had plunged him into the depths of despair. Although he disliked some of the Protector’s doings, he said, ‘I cannot leave the King and him who is my master, from whom I have had all.’ He informed the Council that Somerset was prepared to leave office and begged the men in London to be merciful towards him, ‘that the country does not have a double tragedy in one year and become the scorn of the world.’38
It remained only to agree the terms of Somerset’s surrender, and letters flew back and forth between Windsor and Westminster over the next few days. The once mighty duke, in genuine fear for his life and property, was reduced to grovelling. One of the messages with which riders hurried to London was a personal appeal to Dudley based on their ancient friendship:
My lord, I cannot persuade myself that there is any ill conceived in your heart as of yourself against me; for that the same seemeth impossible that where there hath been from your youth and mine so great a friendship and amity betwixt us, as never for my part to no man was greater, now so suddenly there should be hatred; and that without just cause, whatsoever rumours and bruits, or persuasions, of others have moved you to conceive. In the sight and judgement of Almighty God, I protest and affirm this unto you, I never meant worse to you than to myself; wherefore, my lord, for God’s sake, for friendship, for the love that hath ever been betwixt us or that hereafter may be, persuade yourself with truth, and let this time declare to me and the world your just honour and perseverance in friendship, the which, God be my witness, who seeth all hearts, was never diminished, nor ever shall be while I live . . .39