accusers. His gifted son, one of the finest poets of the age, and whose fame still makes part of England's glory, was brought to trial first, for he was young and full of talent, and, therefore, more dreaded than his father.
On the 13th of December he was arraigned for treason in Guildhall, before the lord chancellor, the lord mayor, and other commissioners, and a jury of commoners. The chief charge was that of having quartered the arms of Edward the Confessor, which belonged of right to the prince, and, therefore, argued a design upon the throne. To this Surrey, in a speech of great spirit and eloquence, replied that it was notorious that he had quartered those arms on his family shield for years, to the knowledge of the king, without so much as exciting a remark or giving the slightest umbrage. He showed the decision of the heralds which allowed him to do so. There were, however, other charges against him: one, that he had a design upon the Princess Mary, and, therefore, had refused the daughter of the Earl of Hertford and every other proposal of marriage—an absurdity, for Surrey was already married, and his wife expecting her confinement at the time of his arrest. He was accused, also, of having proposed to marry his beautiful sister, the Duchess of Richmond, the widow of the king's natural son, Henry, Duke of Richmond—or, more monstrous still, "to advise his sister to become his harlot, thinking thereby to rule both father and son;" and another charge, that he had said, "If the king die, who should have the rule of the prince but my father and I?"
These latter charges were not brought publicly against him, but were used privately, as appears by a document in the State Papers, in the handwriting of Wriothesley, and with interlineations by the king himself. He was, however, openly accused of keeping certain Italians in his house, who were suspected to be spies; and that he corresponded with Cardinal Pole, who was his relative. All the evidence which could be brought forward in substantiation of these flimsy charges was drawn from the women of the family, who were frightened into accusing their own nearest relatives, and showed themselves only too ready to do it. The exhibition of Howard cowardice, domestic malice, and want of natural affection on this occasion is very melancholy.
The Duchess of Norfolk had long been on the worst terms with her husband, and was living separate from him, whilst the beautiful, heartless Duchess of Richmond bore a deep hatred to her noble brother Surrey, because he had opposed her marriage to Sir Thomas Seymour, the brother of Lord Hertford. Immediately on the arrest of Norfolk and Surrey, Government agents were sent off to the houses of the Howards to scrape up at once all the evidence and the spoil that they could. Gate, Southwell, and Carew hurried off that very night to Kuming Hall, near Thetford. After securing all the accesses to the house, they announced their presence to the Duchess of Richmond and her sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Holland. It was early in the morning, and the ladies were scarcely risen. When they appeared they were in the utmost consternation, having had no intelligence of the arrest. The Duchess of Richmond on her knees declared that she would hide nothing that she knew from the king, and would write anything that she could recollect to the king and council, averring that her brother, the Earl of Surrey, was a rash man.
The commissioners reported a very poor account of money or jewels, but stated that they were making a catalogue, and had sent trusty servants to all the other houses of the duke in Norfolk and Suffolk, as well as that of Elizabeth Holland, which was new, and "thought to be well furnished with stuff." The duke's almoner promised them delivery of all the family plate, but money they could find none, unless the steward had it still in his hands. The greedy quest after property showed how deeply that entered into Henry's calculation in all such impeachments. The Duchess of Norfolk was arrested near London, and the three ladies were brought before the Privy Council and strictly examined. But there was little to draw out of them. They admitted what was well known—that both Norfolk and Surrey had quartered the arms of the Duke of Buckingham, a lineal descendant of Edward III., which they had a full right to do; the duke, who was executed in the early part of the reign, being the father of the Duchess of Norfolk. The Duchess of Richmond added that she had heard her brother Surrey speak bitterly against the Earl of Hertford. Two obscure men also, whom the council brought forward, declared that the Duke of Norfolk had expressed great dissatisfaction at the changes in the Church, had talked of the king's diseases, and spoken contemptuously of the new nobility.
On such paltry charges as these was the gallant Surrey condemned; and so, says Godwin, "The flower of English nobility was, on the 19th of January, beheaded, the king being then in his extremity, and breathing his last in blood.
If the son was legally murdered on such grounds as those, the father, who had done distinguished service through a long life, both in the cabinet and the field, was arraigned on still less ones. It was difficult indeed to make up a story against him; and, instead of bringing him before his peers to a fair trial, as he repeatedly demanded, they took the more safe and illegal mode of cutting him off by a bill of attainder without trial. It is true that Norfolk had the less right to complain, for he had been only too ready to deal out such treatment to others in his time. After many private examinations, he was induced, by promises held out to him, to write a confession, in which he acknowledged that during his long and difficult services, he had occasionally communicated to others the secrets of the Privy Council, contrary to his oath; that he had concealed the treasonable act of his son in assuming the arms of Edward the Confessor; and that he had treasonably borne on his shield the arms of England, with the difference of a label of silver, which of right only belonged to Prince Edward.
The two last facts were known to everybody, and were, therefore, not in the keeping of the duke, and the whole charge was too ridiculous to be entertained by any impartial tribunal; but the Seymours were impatient, not only for the death of Norfolk, but for the division of his vast property, of which they had got a promise from the king. They had, therefore, made the promises to the duke in order to induce him to make this confession, and they pronounced it sufficient to warrant his death. Seeing himself thus deceived, and knowing that if his property
