Owing to the precautions taken by the constable, Seymour was brought to the scaffold in safety, and when he soon afterwards mounted the steps and appeared upon it, a tremendous shout arose from the beholders.
Hitherto the day had been dull and gloomy, but at that moment a slight burst of sunshine fell upon him, and illumining his noble countenance, rendered him yet more conspicuous to the vast assemblage, whose eyes were strained towards him. Not in his proudest moments had he looked more majestic than he did now that he stood upon those fatal boards, nor perhaps, for one instant, more elated. But the smile which had played upon his features quickly faded away, as did the sunshine that had lighted them up, and left them pale and rigid-looking as marble.
He had been preceded upon the scaffold by the constable and the lieutenant, together with Mauger. By this time Latimer had mounted the steps, and stood beside him. No other person was allowed upon the scaffold.
It had been the admiral’s intention to address the crowd, and for this purpose he advanced towards the edge of the scaffold, and, bowing to the bystanders, began to speak, but such a tumult arose, and so many vociferations were raised, that his words were completely drowned, and he yielded—though with manifest reluctance—to the constable’s entreaties to him to desist. Taking off his cap, he cried in a sonorous voice that rose loud above the disturbance, “Long live King Edward!” The shout was received with followed by fresh groans and hootings against the Lord protector.
Latimer then approached him, and ask if he sincerely repented his sins, and placed his hope in the Saviour? But Seymour, scarcely heeding him, and anxious, as it seemed, to get done with the scene, called fiercely to the executioner to make haste, and throwing off his gown revealed a figure which, for symmetry, was unrivalled.
Again Latimer approached him, and was again repulsed.
Seymour then knelt down, and deep silence fell upon the multitude.
His prayers, which did not occupy many minutes, being ended, he signed to Mauger that he was ready. Then, approaching the block, he knelt down beside it, took the broidered handkerchief sent him by Elizabeth from his doublet, pressed his lips to it, and fastened it over his eyes.
At this moment Latimer advanced, and cried out in his ear, “Repent!”
“Away!” cried the admiral. “You distract me.” He then laid his comely neck upon the block, and the axe descended.
Thus perished the guilty and aspiring Seymour. According to Latimer, he died “very dangerously, irksomely, horribly.” Others, however, judged him more charitably, and thought he made a brave ending. No doubt he suffered justly.
Under the superintendence of the worthy constable, his mutilated remains were interred in Saint Peter’s Chapel in the Tower.
Three years later, his brother, the Duke of Somerset—-likewise decapitated—was laid beside him. Eighteen months after that, the ambitious Duke of Northumberland, known in this chronicle as the Earl of Warwick, also beheaded, was buried in the same place, within a few paces of the brothers whose destruction he had contrived.
The three graves may still be seen.
THUS FAR THE FOURTH AND LAST BOOK OF THE CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER
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