Chapter XIX: The King’s Peace (2)

With this encouragement Staynhus departed. Watts passed the night at the bailiffs house at Lofthouse, and next day went home to serve mass on Easter Even. He confessed himself to be “marvellously ‘commeryd’ in the mind how I should do in this matter which passed greatly my wit.... I knowing all this, some men would think I had no cause to be very merry at my heart.... I could not compass in my mind how I should disclose this hideous and parlous case which passeth my rude understanding.”[825]

If the worthy parson was troubled and frightened, the situation of Sir John and his fellow conspirators was still more “hideous and parlous.” The chaplain’s visit to Lofthouse was on Good Friday, 30 March, and by 8 April they were all under arrest. The matter came to light through Gregory Conyers, who must have laid information very soon after Staynhus parted from Sir John Watts, as Norfolk had time to collect some confessions, which probably included that of Watts, before he sent up to London on 8 April Nicholas Rudston, Gregory Conyers, William Staynhus and Margaret Bulmer[826]. Already the husband and wife were parted, for Sir John was to be sent up later, and did not reach London until 21 April[827]. Sir William Bulmer, on hearing of his brother’s arrest, went to Norfolk to find out whether anything was laid to his charge, but after examination Norfolk acquitted him and sent him up to London, not as a prisoner but as a messenger[828].

As Staynhus, Rudston and Conyers were making their weary journey up to London, Rudston asked the chaplain who were his accusers[829]. Staynhus replied that they were the vicar of Easington and the rector of Lofthouse. Rudston, sympathising with him, remarked that Franke had done much worse than the acts with which he charged Staynhus, as he was a head captain in Howdenshire, and caused Sir Thomas Percy to rise; “he [Rudston] could say more if he list, ... he [Franke] was the unknownest fellow in Yorkshire.”[830] Rudston’s accusation was correct; Franke is mentioned as a captain in one of the earliest of Aske’s manifestos[831].

It is not certain where Lady Bulmer was imprisoned at first, but when Sir John was sent up they were reunited in the Tower[832]. Staynhus was confined in the Marshalsea, and found there another prisoner, John Pickering the priest—not the friar—who was an old friend of his. They were not harshly treated, and after they had heard each other’s confession and dined, Staynhus told his friend why he was committed. His story was that Sir John Bulmer had sent him to Parson Franke with the letter of citation to London, because Bulmer wanted Franke’s advice about it. Staynhus had called upon the priest of Easington on the way about his private affairs, and the priest, when he heard that Sir John was cited to London, said that he would lose his head. Franke had been angry at Sir John’s message, and consequently Staynhus had never delivered his master’s letter. He repeated to Pickering Rudston’s accusation of Franke, and said that Gregory Conyers was a witness to the words. Pickering thought the matter so important that he repeated it to another prisoner and also to the keeper of the Marshalsea. Staynhus was a vindictive man. He declared that if he were hanged he would cause Parson Franke to hang Rudston or Rudston Parson Franke[833].

Thus by the beginning of May 1536 all the principal leaders of the Pilgrimage were in the Tower, and the last hope that the appointment of Doncaster would be observed had vanished. The humiliation of the north was completed by the mock trial of the prisoners before a jury of their own relations; no further resistance was possible when men had been reduced to this infamy. In the south, however, the failure of the insurrection caused keen disappointment in some quarters, while the people had not the evidence of the King’s severity before their eyes to restrain the expression of their grievances. It is true that the south could not be induced to rise simultaneously and complete the work of the Pilgrims. The southern sympathisers were less warlike and less enthusiastic than the northerners. They hoped that the northern rebels could do all that was required, and that they would enjoy the result without sharing in the risk.

After the second appointment of Doncaster, there was an outburst of activity among the conservative priests which the government suppressed as far as possible. On 23 December 1536, Richard Southwell announced that he had arrested two priests who were circulating copies of the rebels’ oath[834]. His brother Robert Southwell reported about Easter 1537 the execution of two priests who were taken in Sussex and were perhaps the same men[835].

On 31 December 1536 another priest was charged with sowing abroad slanderous bills against Cromwell in Cambridgeshire, where many such bills passed about[836]. Richard Jackson, the parson of Witnesham, Suffolk, was reported on the same day to have brought into the pulpit the King’s Book of Articles, and said, “shaking the book in his hand, ‘Beware, my friends, of the English books ... he that was the first and chief setter forward of them shall be the first that shall repent him’”; besides other speeches in favour of the Pope’s supremacy[837]. Hugh Payne, the curate of Hadley in Suffolk, taught that one paternoster said by a priest’s commandment was worth 1000 said voluntarily. Archbishop Cranmer enjoined penance upon him, but he continued to preach at Stoke Nayland in Suffolk, and Cranmer reported to Cromwell on 28 January that he was a “wolfish Pharisee.”[838] Payne was imprisoned in the Marshalsea, where he “was like to die of sickness and the weight of his irons.”[839] Robert Canell was accused of preaching a seditious sermon at Windsor on Advent Sunday 1 December 1536[840], and John Woodward was committed to Stafford gaol for the same offence at Christmas[841].

Early in January 1536–7 the rumours began to spread again. It was said in London that the King had levied a tax on christenings in the north[842]; another story told at Rochester was that the Earl of Cumberland had refused to obey the King’s summons to court and was holding a castle against him[843], while in Buckingham it was said that the churches would be pulled down and their jewels sold. A barber’s boy of Aylesbury was examined about this tale; he said he heard it from his dame, and she in her turn had heard it “at the common bakehouse, where they were to set their bread.”[844] The same rumour was discussed in the ale-houses of Shrewsbury early in March[845]. It had probably spread from Wales, where there had never been more rioting than there was that spring[846]. The Bishop of St Asaph banished one priest from his diocese “for not rasing the Bishop of Rome’s name and for other crimes.”[847] Another priest was accused of repeating a rumour that the King would pull down parish churches. He had also said “that if the men of Holy Church would rise with one assent that they would not give a point for the King’s Grace,” and other words against the King. Although he denied the words the Council of Wales were satisfied of his guilt by the evidence[848]. The Abbot of Wigmore was accused of having in his service a suspected northern rebel[849].

There was very little heresy in Wales, “for their language does not agree to the advancement thereof,” but on 15 January 1536–7 the Bishop of Coventry sent up to London articles against a heretic who had been preaching in the diocese of St David during November 1536. One effect of his doctrine was that the Prior of Woodhouse in Cleobury Mortimer (Cleeland) “without authority despatched the goods of his monastery and changed his vesture in this ruffling time.”[850]

The only article of the second appointment of Doncaster which the King was inclined to observe was the promise that he would summon a council of divines to show their learning on religious questions. They were not, of course, permitted to discuss the royal supremacy or the other most important points which the rebels wished to lay before them, but they were entrusted with the revision of the Ten Articles. By 18 February 1536–7 “most part of the bishops have come [to London], but no one knows what is to be done.”[851] The tendency of the assembly was on the whole reactionary. The four sacraments which had been omitted from the Ten Articles were “found again,”[852] and it was rumoured, incorrectly, that “Our Lady is now found again, thanked be God, that was lost before.”[853]

Another sign of conservatism was the renewed prosecution of heretics which occurred in the early part of 1537[854]. The northern rebels had a saying, “If you call us traitors we will call you heretics.” The reverse of this was literally true in the heresy cases, for the accused always retorted that his accuser had used treasonable words during the rebellion; all the preacher’s friends swore to the treason, and all the accuser’s friends to the heresy, and the whole countryside was filled with quarrelling and counter-accusations.

An instance of this occurred in the neighbourhood of Ipswich. John Bale, formerly Prior of the White Friars there, gave up his office on account of his changed opinions, and became vicar of Thorndon. He was constantly in trouble for his preaching, and in return accused his parishioners of sympathy with the Lincolnshire rebels[855]. While he was accused of heresy, the Prior of Butley, who was also Suffragan of Ipswich, was accused of treason, as he was inconveniently reluctant to surrender his house[856].

Bishop Latimer’s diocese of Worcester was torn by dissensions, some of the clergy supporting their bishop, others calling him a false harlot and a “horesone” heretic[857]. John Kene parson of Christchurch, Bristol, despised the new preachers and condemned their doctrines. Most of his parishioners were offended because he “prayed not for the King four Sundays together in his chief wars against the rebellious and traitors,” but a few were on his side, and William Glaskeryon said at the time of the rising, “We may bless the time that we were born; they rise to strengthen our Faith.” Another man, when he heard the rebels had fallen, hoped that they would rise again, and said that he would join them himself. About Candlemas seditious bills appeared on the steps of Christchurch, Bristol, and during Lent the warden of the Grey Friars, who was of the old way of thinking, and the Prior of the Friars Preachers, who was of the new, preached one against the other[858].

The hopes of the reactionaries were dashed by a proclamation issued by the King about the middle of Lent which permitted the eating of white meats, milk, eggs, etc., during the fast[859]. This was a new source of strife. A mariner of Brighton was accused of saying that “he could not judge how the King should be Pope and have power to license people to eat butter, cheese and milk in Lent”; but the justices decided that the accusation was malicious and false[860].

The diocese of Salisbury was in much the same condition as that of Worcester. Bishop Shaxton was a reformer, but his people were conservative, and when the King’s dispensation was posted up in the city of Salisbury it was immediately torn down. The Bishop’s chaplain, John Madowell, urged the mayor to investigate the matter, and was promptly thrown into prison[861]. He complained to Cromwell both on his own behalf and on that of another man, who had posted a bill against the seditious preaching of a certain friar and had been imprisoned for it[862]. On Cromwell’s remonstrance the prisoners were reluctantly set at liberty under surety, but the mayor defended his conduct on the grounds that Madowell was a Scot and had used himself uncharitably and slanderously against the corporation[863].

There was a similar breach in Kent between the Archbishop and the lower clergy[864]. At the time of the insurrection “one Sir Davy, a priest” quarrelled with a man called John Drewry in a tavern. The priest said that the King was “a tyrant more cruel than Nero; for Nero destroyed but a part of Rome but this tyrant destroyeth his whole realm.” Drewry called him a traitor, whereupon the priest drew his dagger and chased Drewry into the kitchen, “where my host and hostess were, he grinding of malt and she dressing her child by the fire.” Davy wounded Drewry and fled, thinking he had killed him. The fugitive was protected by the commissary of Maidstone and by the curate of Headcorn[865]. In April certain of the curate’s parishioners brought charges against him, but the rest of the parish were so much enraged that they said “there would be no peace till five or six of these new fellows were killed,” and kept the accusers in terror of their lives[866].

The complete failure of the insurrection was generally known in the south by Easter. The executions in the north and in Lincolnshire, the King’s Lenten proclamation, and the absence of any preparations for a parliament, showed that there was no further hope. The result of this was two-fold, for while the timid ceased to murmur against the government, the bolder spirits dreamed of a last effort which might snatch a victory when all seemed lost. There were certain districts where the disaffection was so strong that definite ideas of resistance were entertained. It often happened that these were the places where there was also a good deal of heresy. Sedition and heresy in fact went hand in hand, for where one party was strong, the other was provoked into violence.

Particular efforts were made to force the acceptance of the King’s reforms upon the two universities. Not much is known about the attitude of Cambridge during this period, except that the vicar of All Hallows, who was a chaplain of the Bishop of Ely, caused much offence by the manner in which he ministered the Sacrament, and the vicar of Caxton was accused of giving his parishioners ale instead of wine at the mass on Easter day[867].

There is more information about Oxford, where several royal preachers spoke against the primacy of Rome and in favour of justification, without obtaining much acceptance[868]. A certain John Parkyns laid information against the Abbots of Oseney and Eynsham and against Serls, vicar of St Peter’s in the East, Oxford, but the man seems to have been a lunatic, as even Cromwell admitted, for he endorsed one of Parkyns’ letters “a fool of Oxford or thereabouts.”[869] Although Parkyns’ tales cannot be credited, there are other signs that there was disaffection both in the country and in the university. The people of Thame insisted upon celebrating the day of St Thomas à Becket [29 December 1536]. Thomas Strebilhill said to the vicar, “Master Doctor, ye have kept a solemn feast this day, where had ye such authority?” The vicar replied that the people would have it so. Strebilhill persisted that within a mile and a half there were men at work, whereupon another man said, that “he wished their horses’ necks had been to-braste and their carts fired.” Strebilhill remonstrated, “I think thou art one of the northern sect; thou wouldst rule the King’s Highness and not be ruled.” In May there was a rumour at Thame that the King would take away the church jewels[870]. An Oxford scholar was heard to say on 19 January 1536–7 that “if the northern men should continue rebellious his Grace would be in great danger of his life or avoid his realm before the end of March.”[871]

About the beginning of February the Abbot of Whalley sent a letter to “his scholar at Oxford” and to the Abbot of Hailes, of whom he said in his message: “I would be glad to see him once more ere I departed out of this world, seeing I brought him up here of a child.” The proctor of Blackburn sent a letter to the scholar by the same messenger, William Rede, a baker of Oxford. On his journey Rede spent the night at his usual halting-place, the house of Richard Oldfelden, a schoolmaster at Knutsford[872]. In order to be a successful schoolmaster it was necessary to be a conservative in religion; all parents like to think that their children are being taught what they themselves learnt when they were young. The failure of Gervase Tyndale, the reformer, in the profession has already been recorded[873]. Robert Richardin, another reformer and would-be schoolmaster, was driven out of Lincolnshire by the insurrection[874]. Oldfelden, however, was a conservative and must have prospered, as he had a son Philip at Oriel College, Oxford, and was thinking of sending another son there, if he could get him a place as a butler[875]. Oldfelden asked Rede to carry a letter to Philip, and especially charged him not to show it to any man, and to deliver it into Philip’s own hands[876]. In this letter, among various items of family interest, Oldfelden told his son that he would send him “a hundred verses and more made by Roger Vernon in your brother John’s name, concerning the insurrection in the north. Cave dicas resurrection [beware lest thou say resurrection].” Philip might show these verses and others which his father was sending to his master. At the end of the letter Oldfelden was seized with caution and added that he would not send the verses, lest the poor man who carried the letter should show them to anyone or be searched[877]. This omission is a pity; it would have been interesting to see the verses, which might have been preserved with the letter, and Oldfelden’s danger could not have been increased, as they had been mentioned. The schoolmaster’s fears were justified; Rede spent the next night in the constable’s house at Wotton. He told the constable that he was ill and would be glad to go back to Lancashire if he could find anyone to deliver his Oxford letters. The constable took the letters, opened and read them, and laid them before a magistrate at Kenilworth Castle. He promptly imprisoned Rede who was examined on 10 February 1536–7[878]. As he had been solemnly warned not to part with the letters, he deserved his misfortune.

Thomas Reynton, another north country man at Oxford, corresponded with his friends at Durham in no loyal terms. He told them that the most part of the King’s levies were but boys, and that the people of Oxfordshire were so weary of being summoned to musters and then countermanded “that they say ere they rise again the King shall as soon hang them up at their own doors.”[879] The King’s levies, and particularly the pressing of horses, caused complaints in several places[880].

At Oxford there was opposition to the new opinions, but in the more remote parts of England there was an obstinate adherence to the old customs. In September 1536 John Tregonwell reported to Cromwell that the people of Cornwall were as quiet and true to the King as any in the realm, and rejoiced greatly “that the King has allowed the festum loci of every church to be kept holy, at Cromwell’s intercession.”[881] Either a special indulgence had been granted to Cornwall for a limited time, or Tregonwell had misunderstood Cromwell’s injunctions, as not all the church holy days were permitted. One of those which were prohibited was the day of St Keverne [St Kevin’s day, 3 June], who was the patron saint of a large and unruly parish in Cornwall, the first to rise in the insurrection of 1497[882].

It is probable that the discontent which the suppression of the local feast caused was encouraged by a copy of the Pilgrims’ oath and articles which some Cornish soldiers had obtained at King’s Lynn, when Norfolk disbanded his troops[883]. Early in April 1537 two fishermen of St Keverne’s, named Carpyssacke and Treglosacke, when selling their fish at Hamell beside Southampton, met two men who were evidently agents of the rebellious party. They asked the Cornish men why they had not risen with the north, and the fishermen were so much moved by their words that they “swore upon a book to help them,” and began their preparations by buying 200 jerkins.

When the fishermen went home they directed a local painter to make a banner for the parish of St Keverne, “in the which banner they would have first the picture of Christ with his wounds abroad and a banner in his hand, Our Lady on the one side holding her breast in her hand, St John à Baptist on the other side, the King’s Grace and the Queen kneeling, and all the commonalty kneeling, with scripture above their heads, making their petition to the picture of Christ that it would please the King’s Grace that they might have their holidays.” Carpyssacke intended to display this banner on Pardon Monday, and he expected that the people would follow it[884]. In consequence prophecies of the King’s death and rumours of musters arose in the neighbouring county of Devonshire[885]. The plot, however, was a very ingenuous one, and was quickly discovered. The painter was alarmed at so dangerous a commission, and reported the matter to a local magistrate, who wrote on 22 April to Cromwell for orders, with assurances that the whole county was quiet and well-disposed, and that Carpyssacke was the only traitor; nevertheless he begged that the King would permit the people to “hold the day of the head saint of their church.”[886] He was commanded to arrest the two fishermen and send them to London, but they had gone back to Southampton and Treglosacke seems to have escaped altogether[887]. Carpyssacke was eventually taken and imprisoned in Cornwall. He was not sent up to London, and there must have been some powerful influence at work in his favour, for the justices of assize said that they had no authority to inquire for high treason and refused to try him[888]; he is last heard of on 28 August 1537, still uncondemned[889]. In July it was reported that the people of Exeter were “half afraid of a privy insurrection of Cornishmen.”[890]

These mutterings and plots are all connected with the religious discontent, but the failure of the rebellion was also a severe disappointment to the commons who had hoped for social reforms, and the methods in which they vented their baffled feelings were more dangerous than the feeble efforts of the religious.

In Somerset, although the suppression of the monastery of Clyffe[891] caused much lamentation[892], social grievances were uppermost. The levying of the subsidy had been stopped in several counties during the insurrection. In April 1537 it began again, and the commissioners inquired “whether we shall stand to the old taxation or attempt higher sums.”[893] As the King was badly in need of money after the expenses of the insurrection, they were probably ordered to get as much as they could, but the exaction which provoked the rising was not the subsidy. The outbreak was caused by a “certain commission ... to take up corn,” apparently an exercise of the hated royal right of purveyance, due to the King’s poverty. The commons tried to rise against the commissioners, but were repressed by “young Mr Paulet and other great men.” Sixty rebels were imprisoned, of whom fourteen were executed for treason, one being a woman. The rest were pardoned[894].

It is curious that there is no reference to this attempt among the “Letters and Papers of Henry VIII” until 13 May, after the prisoners had been executed at Taunton. There was a rumour in the county that the King was displeased with Thomas Horner for “his taking the men imprisoned at Nonye”[895] and causing them to be executed at Taunton. It was said that Horner’s life had been saved only by the intercession of Sir John St Low and that the King said that “he had liever have given Sir John 1000 marks a year.”[896] Sir John St Low wrote to Cromwell to request that the rumour might be contradicted and its authors punished, as it was greatly to Horner’s detriment[897]. It is unlikely that Henry took any active measures to suppress the story, as he encouraged the popular view of his character, upon which it was based, that he was a good-natured but careless man, who left too much to his agents, but was shocked and grieved when his attention was called to their severity.

It is interesting to notice the previous history of Somerset. The peasants of the shire had risen in the great revolt of 1381. In the fifteenth century lollardy was widely diffused there. Without entering into the vexed question as to how long lollardy survived as a creed[898], it may be remarked that the lollards of 1447 were nearer in point of time to the men of 1537 than John Wesley is to our own time, and it is possible that their influence may have lasted as his has done.

It is still more interesting to trace the history of revolt in Norfolk and Suffolk. In 1381, under the vigorous rule of Bishop Spencer, these counties were considered the most orthodox in England[899]. Nevertheless the peasants’ revolt there in that year was exceedingly violent and unusually well organised. Its objects were purely social, and many parish priests and chaplains were with the insurgents, still the monasteries were savagely attacked, not on religious grounds, but because their tenants felt themselves oppressed[900]. The hatred of the monks was so strong that it is surprising that their fall 150 years later should have excited any regret, but the changed feeling of the people is accounted for by the changed social conditions. The monasteries were above everything conservative. In 1381, after the great catastrophe of the Black Death, they insisted on exacting the old dues, which had become oppressive, and in paying the old wages, which were inadequate. The peasants in consequence wanted to force their lords to move with the times. In Henry VIII’s reign, on the contrary, it was the lords who were moving faster than the peasants liked. The monasteries became popular because they still practised the old hospitality, and to some extent cultivated the land in the old way.

After the death of fighting Bishop Spencer, lollardy spread rapidly through East Anglia; the large lollard communities there underwent vigorous persecution in 1428[901]. Social discontent, more than religious conservatism, caused the commons of this region to meditate a rising in 1537, and the rebels of 1549 definitely professed themselves to be protestants[902]. Yet the first suggestion of a revolt was connected with the suppression of Buckenham Priory. As three men were riding home from Stone Fair on 1 August 1536 [Lammas Day], one of them, Hugh Wilkinson, said to the other two: “Let us go home, for now are the visitors in putting down of our house. And if ye will do after me, I have here an angel noble in my purse that never did me good, and that shall ye have between you, if ye will come in the evening and kill them in their beds, for I know the gates of every door, so that I shall let you into every chamber. And when ye have done ye may soon be out of the way for the wood is at hand. And when they be in their beds ye shall be sure that they have no weapon at hand to defend themselves withal. And if I had no more to lose than one of you hath, it should be the first deed I should do.” But the two others refused the rather inadequate bribe[903].

Later in the year 1536 there were disturbances in Norfolk which were suppressed by the Duke of Norfolk[904]. When the Lincolnshire rebellion broke out there was much anxiety lest it should spread to Norfolk, and this was prevented only by prompt and severe measures[905].

In November copies of the Yorkshire oath and manifesto appeared at King’s Lynn and Walsingham[906] and murmurs were heard of an intended rising[907]. The great shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham was naturally a centre for all the rumours of the country. One of the priests, Henry Manser, was accused of having discussed the rebellion with some Lincolnshire pilgrims to the shrine on 7 December 1536; in the course of the conversation they had regretted that Norfolk and Suffolk had not risen at the same time as Lincolnshire, for then the rebels “would have gone through the kingdom.” The way in which the conversation was revealed is rather suspicious. In June 1537 the priest caused “a sore and a diseased” beggar to be turned out of Our Lady’s Chapel and set in the stocks. The beggar in revenge accused the priest of the treasonable conversation which he asserted that he had overheard[908].

Information was laid on 15 February against John Hogon, a fiddler, who went about Norfolk and the neighbouring counties singing seditious songs[909]. During Lent Harry Jervyse of Fincham said that he wished the Yorkshire men had prospered, for then “the holydays that were put down should be restored again,” and after Easter he rebuked some of his friends, saying that if they had been ruled by him he would have cried “Fire!” at mass time at the house of John Fincham, the principal gentleman; when he ran out they might have taken him, and if he would not be ruled by them “they would make a cart way betwixt his head and his shoulder.” Jervyse also urged his friends to ring the bells in every town to raise the commons[910].

The suppression of the monasteries and the levying of the subsidy were suspended in Norfolk during the rebellion, but on 6 January 1536–7 the Duke of Norfolk recommended that the commissioners should begin their work again[911]. One of the collectors went to John Cokke, a worsted weaver of Norwich, for his payment during Lent. Cokke was accused of saying, in reply to the collector’s demand: “I cannot pay for I can sell no worsted, wherefore I see no remedy without poor men do rise.” Cokke denied having said the words, unless he was drunk at the time[912].

After Easter a plot for a rising began to be discussed at Walsingham Priory. The chief mover was Ralph Rogerson, a singing man of the Priory. Nicholas Myleham the sub-prior was also accused of taking part in the conspiracy, but there was little evidence against him[913]. About the middle of April Rogerson discussed the state of the nation with his friend George Guisborough. Guisborough said that “he thought it very evil done for the suppressing of so many religious houses, where God was well served and many other good deeds of charity done.” Rogerson agreed and said that the living of poor men went away with the abbeys, for now the gentlemen had all the farms and cattle of the country in their hands. They decided that “some men must step to and resist them,” and they resolved that they would raise a company by firing some beacon and go to the King to complain. They appointed St Helen’s Day, 21 May, as the date on which to proclaim their intentions; the mustering place was to be Shepcotes Heath, and meanwhile they sounded their friends on the subject[914].

It is difficult to judge of their success, as Guisborough was honourably reluctant to accuse others, and Rogerson’s confession has not been preserved, but the conspirators held several meetings. On one occasion they made use of the opportunity offered “at a game of shooting of the flyte and standard” at Benham, where they held a consultation[915]. Their fully developed plan was to assemble the people in the night, fire the beacons on the coast, and cause the head constables and under constables of the hundreds to summon the musters. Then the rebels would kill and plunder all who resisted them, seize Brandon Ferry and Brandon Bridge in order to cut off communications with London, and march to help the northern men.

Unfortunately for themselves, they admitted into their secret John Galant, a servant of Sir John Heydon. In spite of their threats that they would kill anyone who betrayed them, this man informed his master of the plot on 26 April. Sir John immediately sent the news to London and arrested George Guisborough and his son William, who was in the plot[916]. The rest of the conspirators were taken on 30 April[917], and orders were sent down on 8 May that the offenders were to be executed without sparing[918].

The social discontent was strong in Suffolk, although it did not culminate in an organised conspiracy. On May day there was a May game at some place in Suffolk, “which play was of a king how he should rule his realm, in which one played Husbandry and said many things against gentlemen more than was in the book of the play.”[919] After the games Husbandry prudently disappeared and could not be found[920].

On 11 May Richard Bushop of Bungay had a long conversation with Robert Seyman in Tyndale Wood, Suffolk. Bushop asked, “What tidings hear you? Have you any musters about you?” Seyman replied no, and asked if there were any at Bungay. Bushop complained that it was a hard world for poor men, and when Seyman agreed, he went on: “Methinketh ye seem to be an honest man, such a one as a man may trust to open his mind unto. We are used under such fashion now a days as it hath not been seen, for if three or four of us be communing together the constables will examine what communication [we have] and stock us if we will not tell them: good fellows would not be so used long if one would be true to another. And as I have heard, now lately at Walsingham the people had risen if one person had not been; and as I hear some of them now be in Norwich Castle, and other be sent to London.... If two men have communication together, a man may go back on his word as long as no third man is there; three may keep counsel if two be away.”[921] Bushop offered to show Seyman a prophecy “which one man had watched in the night to copy.” In it the King was called a mole who should be put down this year or never[922]; also “There should land at Walborne Hope the proudest prince in all Christendom, and so shall come to Mousehold Heath, and there should meet with two other kings and shall fight and shall be put down, and the white lion should obtain.” Bushop had been told that the Earl of Derby had rebelled, and that the Duke of Norfolk was so beset in the north that he could not escape[923]. The man must have been drunk to run on like this to a stranger. He paid a heavy price for his folly. Seyman informed against him, and Bushop was forced, probably by torture, to confess his words, and was then executed. It seems that Seyman shared his fate[924]. It is rather surprising that Cromwell was able to find such a number of informers, considering that they were occasionally imprisoned and hanged with the guilty person.

The disaffection in East Anglia was due to the subsidy, the bad state of the cloth trade, the government espionage, and particularly to the aggressions of the gentlemen. In spite of its connection with Walsingham Priory the religious motive was not strong. The conspirators objected to the suppression of the monasteries partly because their almsgiving ceased, but chiefly because the confiscated lands went to increase the wealth and influence of their chief enemies, the country gentlemen. The prisoners at Norwich were heard to say that “if any great man had two dishes on his table, they would have had the one if they had gone forward with their business.”[925]

The evidence from Aylesham is still more clear. This town was quite a centre of heresy, but it was also a centre of sedition. About the beginning of May seven persons were accused of heretical speeches. One case was very singular. Thomas Rooper “set up in the town of Aylesham a cross of wood whereon was made the image of the Pope with his three crowns, gilded, and a cardinal, which was gilded by John Swan of Aylesham and Simon Cressy the carver and setter up thereof.” It is difficult to deduce the religious belief of the designer of this curious symbol. Two persons said that they knew a hundred traitors in Aylesham, which is perhaps partly explained by the conduct of four other men who “reported that there was an Act of Parliament made that if their church lands were not sold before May Day the King would have it; whereupon they sold it to defeat the King thereof, and have converted the money coming of the sale thereof to their own use.” They tried to get hold of the church jewels also, but the churchwardens refused to give them up, saying “if the King wished to have it he was most worthy.” Again the thieves’ religious convictions cannot be deduced from their action; the devout stole church property to prevent the sacrilege of its falling into the King’s hands, the reformers did the same to prevent idolatry[926].

There can be no doubt about the opinions of Elizabeth Wood of Aylesham, who on 12 May said to John Dix, tailor, as she was leaning upon his shop window, “It is pity that these Walsingham men were discovered, for we shall have never good world till we fall together by the ears:

And with clubs and clouted shoon
Shall the deed be done,
For we had never good world
Since this King reigned.
It is pity that he ’filed
Any clouts more than one.”[927]

She was singing or saying an old rhyme which played its part in the later Norfolk rising[928].

Twenty-five men were imprisoned at Norwich for the Walsingham plot[929]. According to the report of some prisoners, Rogerson and George Guisborough thought of accusing several others who had known their plans, especially “a rich gentleman” who had promised them six or seven score sheep, and had said they should not lack sheep as long as he had any. They had even written out their accusation, when William Guisborough, George’s son, remonstrated with them, saying, “Father, there is no remedy but death with us, and for us to put any more in danger, it were pity.” His gentleness touched the others and they tore up the paper. Several of the prisoners gave evidence that they had seen pieces of paper “as small as pence or two pence” flying about; one had seen a fragment “about the breadth of a groat ... stamped in the water by James Biggis, his fellow that he was coupled unto.”[930] Five prisoners were prepared to give the names of those whom they had heard Rogerson mention as his fellow-conspirators, but others whom they named as witnesses declared that they had never heard Rogerson speak in the prison. They were in a different house from him, and saw the other prisoners only occasionally from a distance in the chapel. All the accused denied absolutely that they knew anything about the plot[931].

The conspirators were tried on Friday 25 May 1537. Twelve were condemned to execution, three to perpetual imprisonment, two were remanded to prison without judgment, and the other eight were pardoned. Rogerson and four others were executed at Norwich next day. On the scaffold a most unusual incident occurred; Rogerson attempted to address to the crowd a justification of his conduct. He was cut short by the executioner[932]. This gives one reason why the last words of the condemned at this period are nearly always said to have been a confession of the crime, an acknowledgment of the impartiality of their trial, and a humble apology. If the criminal attempted to say anything inconvenient he was promptly silenced for ever. Two more of the prisoners were executed at Yarmouth on Monday 28 May, George Guisborough and Nicholas Mileham suffered at Walsingham on 30 May, and William Guisborough and another at Lynn on Friday 1 June. The twelfth man seems to have been spared[933].

After the executions at Norwich two men of Houghton juxta Harpley were discussing the news. One of them, Thomas Westwood, had been sent to ask the other, Thomas Wright a carpenter, to come and work for his master. Westwood remarked that the wife of one of the traitors fell down in a swoon when her husband was executed, and lay so for an hour, but her husband had as he deserved. Wright was accused of answering, “They that did for the commonwealth were hanged up.”[934]

The state of England cannot be considered healthy or happy when such an unscrupulous watch was exercised over every careless word and every expression of ordinary humanity, but it is a good sign that this spying was deeply resented by the people themselves. The monks of Lenton Abbey, Notts, talking together at Easter, said: “It is a marvellous world, for the King will hang a man for a word speaking nowadays,” to which another replied, “Yea, but the King of Heaven will not do so, and He is King of all kings; but he that hangs a man in this world for a word speaking, he shall be hanged in another world his self.”[935] These sentiments were very natural, but they provoke the reflection that it was the Church which had taught the King that a man otherwise blameless might be put to death “for a word speaking” or for holding heretical opinions. For centuries Church and State had played into one another’s hands. So long as the clergy felt certain that the heretics whom they condemned and “relaxed to the secular arm” would be burnt, they were ready to teach that obedience to the King was a duty second only to obedience to the Church, and they blessed with their approval and imitation the barbarous penalties for treason. Now that the age-long alliance was broken, they were shocked and indignant to find themselves suffering the fate that they had complacently inflicted on others.

NOTES TO CHAPTER XIX

Note A.

Pacem emit armorum precio
O quam letus dolor in tristi gaudio
Grex respirat pastore mortuo
Plangens plaudit mater in filio
Quia vivit victor sub gladio.

Then follow rubrics with the beginnings of versicles:—

_Versus_—Justus igitur ...
_Collecta_—Deus per cujus ...
_Capitulum_(?)—gloriosus pontifex ...

Note B. It is interesting to observe that Anne Askew, the protestant martyr of 1545, was the daughter of Sir William Askew, one of the commissioners who helped to check the Lincolnshire rebellion. She became the wife of Thomas Kyme of Kelsey, whom she was forced to marry although he was devoted to the old religion[936]. He must have belonged to the same family as Guy Kyme, which would make his relations with his wife still more difficult.

Note C. One of Sir John Bulmer’s papers, seized after his arrest, was a letter from his sister-in-law Anne, the wife of Sir Ralph Bulmer[937]. The writer referred to a message which she had sent to Sir John by his servant Blenkinsop. She mentioned her “brothers” Richard Bowes and Harry Wycliff, but as she was one of the two daughters and co-heirs of Roger Aske of Aske, she had no brothers by blood[938]. Richard Bowes was her brother-in-law, the husband of her sister Elizabeth. Harry Wycliff may have been her step-brother or even her foster-brother. He was accused on 30 March 1537 of inciting the commons to rescue Anthony Peacock, the Richmondshire rebel[939]. The letter from Anne Bulmer is dated Easter day, but without the year. She says that she has received letters from Sir John on Good Friday, and that she and her two “brothers” have arranged that her husband Sir Ralph shall meet Sir John at Northallerton on Easter Tuesday in order to arrange some business over which, apparently, Sir John and Sir Ralph had quarrelled. The nature of the business is not stated.

This may be the treasonable letter that Blenkinsop brought, but it does not bear any outward trace of treason. In fact, if its date was Easter 1537, it is rather evidence for than against Sir John, as it indicates that, so far from plotting a rising, he was busy with private affairs. But the government lawyers were quite unscrupulous in their use of documents, as for instance in the case of the Abbot of Sawley’s supplication. They may have forced a treasonable interpretation upon the innocent letter, or it is possible that the business alluded to may not have been as harmless as it appears. In the absence of a date it is impossible to discover the true importance of the letter. It may have been written at some other Easter years before.

Note D. Froude made up his mind that the Marquis of Exeter must have encouraged the Cornish rising, and in consequence of this preconceived opinion he jumbled together several documents without any regard for their dates. First he described the ordering of the banner by the Cornish fishermen, but assigned the intended display of it to the year 1538. In a note he admitted that this date was inconsistent with the fact that “the queen” was to be painted on the banner, as Henry in 1538 was a widower, but Froude explained this by saying that the banner was ordered in the summer of 1537, but the painter delayed his information until 1538; in order to fit in with his theory the insurgents must have ordered their banner a year before they meant to use it.

The passage continues, “At length particular information was given in, which connected itself with the affair at St Keverne. It was stated distinctly that two Cornish gentlemen named Kendall and Quyntrell had for some time past been secretly employed in engaging men who were to be ready to rise at an hour’s warning.” The implication is that the machinations of the two gentlemen were discovered in 1538, in consequence of the exposure of the Cornish plot; yet the evidence quoted in a foot-note sufficiently contradicts this, for it was a report addressed to Cromwell that Kendall and Quyntrell had told many people that “Henry Marquis of Exeter ... would be king, if the King’s Highness proceeded to marry the Lady Anne Boleyn, or else it should cost a thousand men’s lives.” This discrepancy passed unnoticed by Froude[940].

The conspiracy of Kendall and Quyntrell, in fact, took place and was discovered in 1531, when Exeter was banished from court for some time on account of its discovery[941]. It had nothing to do with the present agitation in Cornwall, and there is not the smallest reason to connect the Marquis of Exeter with this later movement.

Note E. This was a favourite proverb of the King’s: “‘Well then,’ quoth the King, ‘Let me alone, and keep this gear secret between yourself and me, and let no man be privy thereof: for if I hear any more of it, then I know by whom it came to knowledge. Three may,’ quoth he, ‘keep counsel, if two be away; and if I thought that my cap knew my counsel I would cast it into the fire and burn it.’”[942]