“How presumptuous then are ye, the rude commons of one shire, and that one of the most brute and beastly of the whole realm ... to find fault with your Prince?”[407]
So wrote Henry VIII to the men of Lincolnshire, and it must be confessed that they were deservedly held in ill repute. The number of cases relating to this county preserved among the Star Chamber Papers clearly shows how little order was kept or justice regarded. There was less excuse for lawlessness there than on the Borders, but the people seem to have lived, among the great tracts of undrained fen, almost as wild a life as the marchmen on their fells and mosses. On the other hand the men of Lincolnshire were not trained to arms so strictly as the mosstroopers. They were rather given to riots than to raiding, which demands a certain amount of discipline. They were very poor and ignorant, and regarded the gentlemen, their landlords and magistrates, with suspicious dislike. In 1517 royal commissioners were appointed in Lincolnshire to enforce the Inclosure Act of 1515[408]. It is rather surprising that the county should have been included in the commission, as the report showed that the enclosures were insignificant in extent and had caused but little eviction[409]. The commission was probably appointed in consequence of the shire’s turbulence, and it is to be observed that such enclosure as there was had taken place in the district which was the centre of the rising, the parts of Lindsey, including Scrivelsby, Bolingbroke and Horncastle[410].
The gentlemen were quite as lawless as, and only a little better educated than, the commons. The feuds of such noble families as the Willoughbys not only caused endless discord among their friends and enemies, but fomented dozens of petty hatreds among their dependents. A good thriving feud, fairly rooted in disputed lands, would in the course of years scatter as many seeds as would afforest half Lincolnshire. An example of such a minor feud occurs in a complaint brought before the Star Chamber by Thomas Moigne[411], of the Inner Temple[412], a gentleman and lawyer of Lincolnshire. He was seised of the manor of Wyfflingham, but his right to it was disputed by another gentleman, George Bowgham of Haynton. On 20 Sept. 1534 Bowgham assembled about forty people at his house. They seem to have been collected haphazard, anyone who wanted a fight being welcome, and included a pardoner, a weaver, and several husbandmen. They were armed and set out for Wyfflingham, summoning others to join them by the way. Moigne was away from home at the time, and when they reached his house they found no one but his wife and one of his servants. They cried out that they would seize all in the place, but as it does not appear that they carried out their purpose it may be concluded that the lady of the house successfully defended it against their attack[413]. The characteristic feature of this outwardly pointless affair is that the rioters assaulted Wyfflingham when the master was away. If a man could never leave home without the fear that he might return to find his house in flames and his wife abused, he would be likely to come to terms about the land. The frequency of this sort of intimidation does not speak well for the men of Lincolnshire. The story of the rising is even less pleasing. Lincolnshire might have been expected to take the lead all through the rebellion. The movement began there, and such signs of preparation as can be discovered almost all concern Lincolnshire. The rumours circulated there most freely, and may even have originated there. But if it rose first, it was the first shire to lay down arms, and this at discretion, without making any terms. So divided were the insurgents among themselves by class-hatred, private feuds and mutual suspicion that their host was never once in a state to offer battle to the most feebly organised troops. In Lincolnshire alone were serious outrages committed[414], but the rebels showed none of the determined enthusiasm in the field which might have explained their ferocity. The gentlemen were neither true to the King nor to the cause with which they really sympathised. The commons showed all the worst qualities of an armed mob,—they were savage, always swayed by the last speaker, and incurably suspicious of their leaders, whom they seldom obeyed even when they had chosen them themselves. The whole affair of Lincolnshire leaves the impression that the men of the fens were loud speakers but poor fighters, and almost confirms the King’s description. No doubt this feeling is partly unjust. As will soon appear, they had many disadvantages to face, and in particular had no such excellent boundary to defend as the line of the Humber and Don, which was held by the Yorkshiremen.
By Michaelmas 1536 three sets of royal commissioners had swooped down upon Lincolnshire. The first, which had been at work since June, was the commission for dissolving the smaller monasteries[415], the second was to assess and collect the subsidy[416], and the third was a commission of inquiry into the condition of the clergy and their fitness in morals, education and politics for their office[417]. These provided grievances for all classes of the community; the commons were outraged by the suppression of the monasteries, the gentlemen were exasperated by the fresh taxation, and the clergy were infuriated by the examination which the commissioners forced them to undergo. They had been warned of the coming inquiry at the commissary’s court held at Louth about three weeks before Michaelmas, when the commissary’s scribe, one Peter, told the priests “that his master bade them look to their books, for they should have strait examination taken of them shortly after.”[418] The visitation began at Bolingbroke on 20 Sept., and the priests seem to have been roughly handled, for they came away fuming with indignation. The parson of Conisholme said, “They will deprive us of our benefices because they would have the first fruits, but rather than I will pay the first fruits again I had liever lose benefice and all.”[419] Simon Maltby, parson of Farforth, reported on his return home that the silver chalices of the church were to be given to the King in exchange for tin ones, and that therefore he and other priests had determined to strike down the chancellor[420], and trusted in the support of their neighbours[421]. The next visitation was to be held on Monday, 2 Oct., at Louth[422], and several of the priests from that district went to Bolingbroke to see what the dreaded examination was like; they came away declaring that they would not be so ordered or examined in their learning[423].
It does not appear that Thomas Kendale, the vicar of Louth, was one of those who went to Bolingbroke, but he was as bitterly opposed to the commissioners as the rest. On Sunday, 1 Oct., he preached a sermon in the parish church of Louth, in which he told his parishioners “that next day they should have a visitation, and advised them to go together and look well upon such things as should be required of them in the said visitation.” The congregation understood very well what he meant, and as they prepared to walk in procession after three silver crosses which belonged to the village, Thomas Foster, a singing-man, cried out, “Masters, step forth and let us follow the crosses this day: God knoweth whether ever we shall follow them again.” The rumour of the vicar’s sermon and Foster’s words spread quickly through the place. Robert Norman, a roper, gave a penny to Jockey Unsained, otherwise John Wilson, a carpenter, to carry the report, and after evensong an armed company appeared at the choir door, and took the keys of the treasure house from the churchwardens, saying that they knew the chief constable meant to deliver the jewels to the Bishop’s chancellor next day. The keys were given into the charge of Nicholas Melton, shoemaker, or Captain Cobbler, as they called him, and a watch was kept in the church that night for the first time, which was taken up again night after night until the end of the rebellion[424].
The news of what had happened in Louth was heard the same night in the little village of Kedington by Louth Park, the new home of William Morland alias Burobe, late a monk in the dissolved monastery of Louth Park. He had been employed since his eviction in carrying “capacities”[425] to other expelled monks in various parts of the country, and in the course of his travels he had heard many discontented mutterings. On Monday, 2 Oct., after matins, he hastened to Louth to find out the meaning of the “rufflings.” He went first to the church but was not allowed to enter, for the commons who had been guarding the jewels were discussing what course they should follow, and whether they should ring the church bells and raise the alarm. Morland went to the house of William Hert, butcher, whose brother Robert had been a fellowmonk of his at Louth Park. The three sat down to breakfast “with puddings,” in which they were joined by one Nicholas, a servant of Lord Borough’s.
Meanwhile “the heads of the town” had gathered in the town-hall to choose an officer for the coming year, as the custom was, and the commons in the church were left to their own devices. The deliberations in the town-hall and the breakfast at the butcher’s were both interrupted by the sound of the church bells ringing out alarm. The Bishop of Lincoln’s official, John Henneage, had arrived to conduct the choosing of the new town officers. Hearing the tumult, Nicholas remarked that some of those who ordered themselves after this fashion would be hanged; to which the butcher replied, “Hold thy peace, Nicholas, for I think as much as thou dost, but if they heard us say so, then would they hang us.” Meanwhile the noise and “skrye” became so great that Morland went out to see what was happening. He found that Henneage had alighted at Robert Proctor’s door and had been seized there by an armed mob, who were taking him to the church. Morland and other honest men helped him to take refuge in the choir and locked the choir door. The commons were shouting that he and all who had opposed them the night before must take an oath that they would be true to the commons and do as they did, upon pain of death. This oath was administered to Henneage, Morland, and the honest men by Captain Cobbler, to whom Henneage had tried to speak privately before being taken to the church. After the oath was taken the people began to disperse, when again the common bell rang out and they reassembled to seize John Frankishe, the Bishop of Lincoln’s registrar, who had come to hold the dreaded visitation[426]. He was taken at the Saracen’s Head, William Goldsmith’s house; his books were seized and carried to the market-place, and John Taylor, a webster, brought a great brand and lighted a fire in the Corn Hill. Other books were brought out—copies of the New Testament in English and “Frythe, his book,”[427] a fact which shows that the new creed was penetrating even to this stronghold of conservatism—and the insurgents prepared to burn these heretical works, together with the registrar’s papers[428]. Morland was alarmed at their violence, and exhorted them from Guy Kyme’s doorway, saying: “Masters, for the Passion of Christ, take heed what ye do, for by this mischievous act which ye be about to do we shall be all casten away ... will ye burn those books that ye know not what is in them?” He prevailed so far that they took him and six other persons who could read and set them up upon the High Cross, ordering them to read the registrar’s papers. Morland got hold of the King’s commission, but before he could make it out, the other people on the Cross, terrified by the hideous clamour of the crowd below, threw down the papers that they held, “and every man below got a piece of them, and hurled them into the fire.”
Meanwhile Frankishe and Henneage had been brought to the market-place, and the people forced the former to climb up to the highest part of the Cross by a ladder. The poor man no doubt believed they would hang him, and when he was on a level with Morland, he whispered, “For the Passion of Christ, priest, save my life; and as for the books that be already brent I pass not of them, so as a little book of reckonings ... might be saved, and also the King’s Commission.” Morland promised to do his best, took the book of reckonings, and, escaping from the Cross, succeeded in handing the commission to Henneage. The commons cried out that Frankishe must burn the papers himself, which he did. Then they demanded what book it was that Morland carried; with great difficulty he persuaded them to let him keep it. Then, worn out by the fatigues of the morning, he went and had a drink. But when he attempted to restore the book to the registrar, he was set upon by three or four hundred commons, who called him “false, perjured harlot to the commons for saving that book, for therein was contained that thing which should do them most tene (harm).” The book was torn from him, and eventually came to the hands of Captain Cobbler. Morland went to the registrar, explained what had happened, had dinner with him, the registrar paying, and helped to smuggle him out of the town. After this his friends warned him that his life was not safe for the present, so for the rest of the day he kept away from the commons[429].
Sixty parish priests who had assembled at Louth for the visitation were now compelled to take the oath to the commons, and also to swear to ring the common bells of their parishes and raise the people[430]. The heads of the town, who were still in the town-hall, were summoned “by the name of churls” to come and take the oath to God, the King, and the commons for the wealth of Holy Church. Some forty of the rebels set out for Legbourne, a small nunnery about two miles away, where the royal commissioners were then at work. By the way they met one of Cromwell’s servants, John Bellowe, who was especially detested by all the country. Some of the commons, returning with him to Louth, met Sir William Skipwith of Ormsby, whom they took back with them and compelled to take their oath[431]. Captain Cobbler asserted that Sir William came in of his own free will[432], but this is very improbable, as he had obtained a grant of Markby Priory[433], and whatever the attitude of other gentlemen may have been, he was probably entirely opposed to the rising. After taking the oath he was allowed to go home[434].
The rest of the band went on to Legbourne, and there took the commissioners and their servants, William Eleyn, John Browne, Thomas Manby, and John Milsent[435]. They returned to Louth, taking on their way one George Parker at the town’s end. The prisoners were very roughly handled, “all the country crying to kill Bellowe.”[436] He and Milsent were put in the stocks, and afterwards cast into prison in the custody of Robert Browne, from which they were released a fortnight later by Suffolk’s orders[437]. So intense was the hatred which they inspired that a report flew about the country that one or other of them had been blinded, wrapped in a raw cowhide, and baited to death with dogs. This story was reported to the King on 6 October[438], and was frequently repeated, but it is evidently untrue, for none of the rebels were examined about the alleged murder, and the two men were afterwards released.
While the prisoners were being brought in, Henneage had found an opportunity of slipping away; in his flight he met Guy Kyme at the town’s end, returning from Grimsby[439], but would scarcely stop to speak to him for fear of the commons[440]. If Kyme was already in communication with the disaffected in Yorkshire, he probably brought news that they were not yet ready to rise, and that the outbreak must be put off a week or so; but if this was his message he came too late. He went into the town and tried to stay the commons, and his representations were supported by others, but it was impossible to draw back. Captain Cobbler, when urged to make no more business, replied that “he had otherwise appointed,”[441] while Thomas Noble bade Kyme speak of no stay or they would kill him[442]. The last event of this tumultuous day was a proclamation from the High Cross that all the men of the neighbourhood between the ages of sixteen and sixty must assemble there on the morrow[443].
The news of the rising at Louth was received the same day by Sir Edward Madeson and Lord Clinton, who sent it on to Lord Hussey[444]. The commissioners for the subsidy, of whom Madeson was one, had intended to sit at Caistor next day, but they arranged by messenger to meet outside the town to see how events were shaping before they began to sit[445]. The priests who had been sworn at Louth carried the news all over the countryside.
On Tuesday 3 October Caistor was filled with the constables and head men of the wapentakes, who had come to meet the commissioners of the subsidy, and with priests who had come to attend the commissary’s court, to be held there that day. The commissioners held their preliminary meeting on Caistor Hill, while in the town itself Anthony Williamson, Harry Pennell and others “proclaimed aloud that the justices had a commission from the King to take all men’s harness from them and bring it to the castle of Bolingbroke.” The commons declared that they would not give up their weapons. They went to the church and demanded of the priests, who were assembled there “to the number of eight score,” whether they would take the commons’ part. The priests received them enthusiastically, went with them to the market-place, and with their own hands burnt their books. The commons had already chosen George Hudswell to be their leader, and the whole body of commons and priests marched out to Caistor Hill to speak with the justices[446].
When they first assembled the commissioners believed Caistor to be quite peaceful[447], but presently news was brought of a new factor in the situation. The town of Louth had been astir since dawn; the common bell rang and the people assembled, prepared to set out for Caistor, as had been agreed the night before[448]. Four spiritual men, of whom William Morland was one, and four laymen were chosen as their leaders, and they marched off[449]. The justices on Caistor Hill heard that 10,000 men were advancing upon them[450], a grossly exaggerated rumour, as there were really not more than 3000[451]. Their first idea was flight, but, at the suggestion of Mr Dalison, before setting out, they sent to summon the commons of Caistor to meet them, so that they might explain why the commission would not sit and urge them to go home before the arrival of the men from Louth. The insurgents in Caistor would not come, but a number of people had collected round the commissioners, a hundred or more. To these they explained that the subsidy was to be assessed by the people themselves, and that the rumours about robbing and pulling down churches were false. Their eloquence did not make much impression, for by this time the church bells of Caistor were ringing against them; and when the people of Louth came in sight the commissioners turned their horses and fled[452].
The Louth company would have come up sooner if they had not paused to decide whether or no they should send on a hundred of their number to confer with the justices. When it came to the point none of the commonalty would consent to stay behind, but about a dozen of the best mounted, with Morland among them, rode forward. On Caistor Hill they met about 1000 men from Caistor “without weapons, but as they were wont to do riding to markets and fairs.” While the two parties were discussing the situation, they saw a company of about twenty horsemen, making for the house of Sir William Askew, one of the commissioners. The well-horsed men of Louth rode after them, and asked them to return and speak to the commons for certain matters which they had in hand. Sir William Askew was doubtful: “Trowest thou that if I should come amongst them I should do any good, and be in surety of my life?” he asked. Morland replied, “Let two of your servants lead me between them, and if they do any hurt to your person then let me be the first that shall die.” This, however, was not a very good security, as Sir William’s servants were clearly on the side of the commons, and one of them indignantly pointed out to Morland that as they talked Sir Thomas Missenden had slipped away and escaped among the furze. Sir William Askew, Sir Edward Madeson and Mr Booth went back with them to the main body and were all sworn at once. Others of the commons had captured Sir Robert Tyrwhit[453] and Thomas Portington[454], but Lord Borough, whom they were particularly anxious to take, escaped, having a swift horse, and so did Thomas Moigne. In their disappointment the commons turned on Borough’s unfortunate servant Nicholas, crying that he had warned his master. Morland says: “there were so many striking at him as he never saw man escape such danger. At last when he had fled evermore backward from them almost a quarter of a mile, saving himself always among the horsemen, he was stricken down by the footmen of Louth and Loutheske.” Morland went to him, confessed him, and had him conveyed to a safe place and attended by surgeons, but he seems to have died of his injuries[455].
The captured gentlemen asked why the commons were making this insurrection. John Porman, a gentleman, replied “with a loud voice,” that the commons were willing to take the King as Supreme Head of the Church and that he should have the first fruits and tenths of every benefice and also the subsidy granted to him; but he must take no more money of the commons during his life and suppress no more abbeys; also Cromwell, and the heretic Bishops of Canterbury, Lincoln, Rochester, Ely, Worcester and Dublin (Cranmer, Longland, Hilsey, Goodrich, Latimer and Browne) must be given up to the commons[456]. This answer seems to embody the demands of the commons themselves, untouched by the influence of the clergy or the gentlemen. They cared little for theological questions, but opposed Cromwell’s reckless spoliations.
The insurgents carried their prisoners back to Caistor in triumph[457]. By this time their ranks had been swelled by companies from the neighbouring villages. The men of Rasen, Fulstow, Kermounde, Rothwell, and Thoresway were there. In the evening the main body, taking the gentlemen with them, returned to Louth[458].
Tyrwhit, Askew, Portington and Madeson supped at Guy Kyme’s house, and after supper were desired to write a letter to the King, begging for a general pardon. It ran as follows:
“Pleasith your highnes these be to advertise youre grace that this thirde day of october we by the vertue of your graciouse commission directe unto us and other for the levacion of your secund payment of the subsidie to your grace graunted by acte of parliament assembled us togeders at the towne of Caster within your countie of Lincoln for the execucion of the same. Wthere were assembled at oure cummyng within a myle of the seid towne xxiim of your trewe and faithefull (lege peple crossed out) subgietts and moo by oure estimmacion and the causion of ther said assemble was as they affirmed unto us that the comon voce and fame was that all the Jewells and goods of the Churches of the countrey shuld be taken from them and brought to your gracez councell and also that your seid lovyng and faithful subgets shulde be put of newe to enhaunsements and other importunate charges. Whiche they were not able to bere by reason of extreme pouertie and upon the same they did swere us first to be true to your grace and to take ther parts in off the comon welthe and so conveid us with them from the seid Caster unto the towne of Louth XII myles distante from the same (mark of omission but no insertion) where as we yet remayne unto they knowe forther of your graciouse plesure humbly besechyng youre grace to be good and graciouse boith to them and us to send us your graciouse letters of generall pardon orells we be in suche daunger that we be never like to se your grace nor owre owen houses as this berer can shewe to whom we beseche your highnes to gyff ferther credence. And ferther your seid subgietts haith desired us to writte to your grace that they be yours bodies lands and goods at all tymes where your grace shall commande (torn) for the defense of your person or your realme[459].
When this letter had been read to the commons, Sir Edward Madeson and John Henneage were despatched after midnight to take it up to London[460]. Many other messengers were hurrying through Lincolnshire that night. Lord Borough, who had taken refuge at a friend’s house, sent off news of the rising to the King[461], to the Earl of Shrewsbury at Sheffield Park[462], who was the nearest representative of the royal authority, and to Lord Darcy in Yorkshire[463]. Thomas Moigne sent a message to Lord Hussey from his bailiff’s house at Usselby, where he had taken refuge[464]. Lord Hussey wrote back asking for further news[465], and despatched a messenger to warn the mayor of Lincoln[466].
After sending to Hussey, Moigne ventured to go home to Wyfflingham, where his wife was lying dangerously ill. He found that all the commons of the neighbourhood had joined those of Louth. He therefore ordered his bows and arrows to be brought out. Word of this reached the commons, and for his wife’s sake he was obliged to write to Sir William Askew for protection. The house was watched and it was impossible for him to escape[467].
On Wednesday, 4 October, the gentlemen who were held in captivity at Louth persuaded the commons that they could do nothing more till an answer was received to the letter they had sent to the King; and they were so successful that Sir William Askew sent a message to Thomas Moigne, which he received at 7 a.m., that he might keep the great court next day at the Isle of Axholme. The lull, however, did not last long. The bailiff of Wyfflingham presently came to tell Moigne that warning bells were being rung at Rasen, and that the towns around were ringing in answer. Moigne directed him to do nothing, and the reason of the alarm was soon explained. A body of men arrived from Rasen bringing with them Sir William Askew’s two sons and George Eton, a servant of Lord Hussey[468]. Eton had been captured at Rasen, and two letters were found in his possession, one from Lord Hussey to Tyrwhit and Askew, offering to help to stay the country[469], the other from the mayor of Lincoln in answer to Hussey’s offer of help[470]. These letters infuriated the commons so much that they very nearly killed their three captives,—in fact a report went about the country that Eton had been killed[471]. They were now being taken to Louth, and the men of Rasen insisted that Moigne must take the oath and go with them.
They arrived at Louth after mass; Moigne had tried to persuade them on the way to keep the letters secret, but they refused to do so, though he prevailed upon them to conceal the name of the messenger. As soon as their contents were known, the people rushed to the church and rang the common bell, in spite of the efforts made to stop them by Morland and the gentlemen. A rumour spread that Lord Borough was coming over Rasen Moor with 15,000 men to destroy them. This increased the tumult, but at length the gentlemen prevailed on the mob to muster at Julian Bower, where they were to be divided into wapentakes and to choose captains[472]. Morland was despatched to find out if there was any truth in the report about Lord Borough[473]. After Morland had gone, Sir Andrew Bilsby and Mr Edward Forsett were brought in by the men of Alford[474]. The newcomers believed the report about Lord Borough, and assured the gentlemen of it, but the commons’ alarm was now appeased and they were induced to go to their dinners. The gentlemen hoped that Lord Borough might arrive without bloodshed. In the afternoon the host assembled again, and was divided into wapentakes, each having for captain the commissioner who dwelt in it[475]. It was agreed that they should muster next day and march on Lincoln, though the gentlemen opposed the advance as far as they dared[476]. Letters were written to Lord Hussey and to the mayor of Lincoln, calling upon them to take part with the commons[477]. At supper-time Morland returned from Horncastle with grave news. It was true that the report about Lord Borough was unfounded, but Horncastle had risen, with evil results[478].
As early as Saturday 30 September unrest had manifested itself at Horncastle[479]. The outbreak came on Tuesday 3 October in response to the summons of Nicholas Leache, parson of Belchford, and his brother William. The men of Horncastle marched to Scrivelsby Hall, and took Sir Robert Dymmoke, his sons, one of whom was the sheriff, Mr Dighton of Sturton, and Mr Sanderson. Sir William Sandon was also at the Hall, but refused at first to obey the commons’ summons, until by threats he was forced to come “with his cap in his hand.” In revenge for his delay the commons carried him to Horncastle and imprisoned him in the Moot Hall. This so far intimidated him that he went with the company to bring in Thomas Littlebury and Sir John Copledike. Another party from Horncastle went to Bolingbroke, where they found Dr Raynes, the obnoxious chancellor of the Bishop, ill at a chantry priest’s house[480]. They made him take the oath “lying sick in bed,” and spent the night there. Apparently their first intention was to carry him to Horncastle, but he was saved for the moment, partly by his servant, partly by bribing his assailants[481].
The commons assembled at Horncastle early in the morning on Wednesday 4 October under the command of Edward Dymmoke, the sheriff, and despatched two messengers, one to Bolingbroke to order the commons there to bring in Dr Raynes and another priest called the surveyor, and the other to Louth to ask for news of Lord Borough[482]. They mustered in a field near the town, whither the chancellor was brought by one Gibson and John Lincoln of Hagnaby, “a very rich man.”[483] His appearance was greeted with a yell of hatred,—he was torn from his horse, set upon, and slain with staves. His clothes and the money in his purse were divided among the crowd by the sheriff[484]. The murder was the work of a frenzied mob, and probably many took part in it. The names of three are preserved,—William Hutchinson, William Balderstone and Brian Stonys. The last named, in his deposition, laid the blame of the murder on the priests and parsons in the crowd, declaring that they cried continually “Kill him!” and that after he was slain “every parson and vicar in the field counselled their parishioners to proceed in their journey, saying they should lack neither gold nor silver.”[485] As Stonys, by his own confession, was one of the murderers, his statement about the parsons and vicars cannot be considered very reliable, as he may have been trying to win a pardon by accusing those who were obnoxious to the government. But it must be acknowledged that the character of the Lincolnshire clergy does not appear to have been very high. William Morland said that when he heard they were to be examined in their learning he was glad, “thinking he might happen to succeed to the room of some of the unlettered parsons.” He also said that “certain lewd priests of those parts, fearing they should lose their benefices, spread such rumours to persuade the common people that they also should be as ill handled.”[486] This contemptuous way of speaking may have been partly due to the slight esteem in which the regulars often held the secular clergy; but besides this there is evidence that at least one of the vicars had used threatening language against the chancellor before the rising began[487]. In short it seems fairly clear that the clergy who were present at his death did nothing to help him, and were on the whole pleased by it.
The sheriff and Sir John Copledike were present when Raynes was killed, and Morland, the messenger from Louth, arrived just in time to see William Leache go to them and the other gentlemen and ask them to deliver up to the commons Thomas Wolsey, who had been a servant of Cardinal Wolsey, in exchange for Stephen Haggar. Wolsey was accused of being a spy and was promptly hanged, in spite of Morland’s intercession on his behalf[488].
The gentlemen were not present while this was taking place; they had withdrawn about a mile, but after a time they returned and read out a list of articles which they had drawn up, expressing the grievances of the insurgents. The first two needed no explanation,—they required that the King should remit the subsidy and let the abbeys stand. The next was not so intelligible, as it expressed a grievance which affected only the upper classes. The sheriff therefore addressed the crowd as follows:
“Masters, there is a statute made whereby all persons be restrained to make their wills upon their lands, for now the eldest son must have all his father’s lands, and no person to the payment of his debt, neither to the advancement of his daughters’ marriages, can do nothing with their lands, nor cannot give his youngest son any lands.”
The commons had not before heard of the Statute of Uses, but when it was explained to them in this way they were quite willing to include an article requesting its repeal. The gentlemen next demanded of the people whether they would ask for the heads of the lord Cromwell, four or five bishops, the Master of the Rolls[489], and the Chancellor of the Augmentations[490], “saying to them the lord Cromwell was a false traitor and that he and the same bishops, the Master of the Rolls, and the Chancellor of the Augmentations, whom they called two false pen clerks, were the devisers of all the false laws. And the commons asked the gentlemen, ‘Masters, if ye have them, would that mend the matter?’ And the gentlemen said, ‘Yea, for these be the doers of all mischief.’” When these articles had been read, George Staines addressed the commons, saying, “Masters, ye see that in all the time we have been absent from you we have not been idle. How like ye these articles? If they please you, say yea. If not, ye shall have them amended.” “The commons held up their hands and said with a loud voice, ‘We like them very well’;” whereupon Staines wrote them out “upon his saddle-bow.” He was believed to be the deviser of the articles, which superseded other lists drawn up before. A copy was given to Morland to carry back to Louth[491].
A message was brought by two of Lord Hussey’s servants, offering redress if any of the commissioners had exceeded their commission, and requesting the insurgents to send a deputation to speak with him[492]. The servants were asked whether Hussey was not raising the country against them; they replied it was a false tale[493]. No doubt they dared not tell the truth, which was that Hussey had sent messages to stay Holland, and was in communication with Lord Borough, whom he had promised to meet at Lincoln with 300 men[494]. The men of Horncastle, however, were satisfied. They made the messengers take the oath and kept them all night; but they sent three or four men to speak with Hussey[495]. By the time they arrived he had discovered that he could not trust his tenants, for when he sent bidding them to come and advise with him, they replied they had more need of his advice and stayed at home[496]. The only answer he could return to the Horncastle men was that he would not be false to his prince, but he could do nothing against them, as none of his people would take his part[497]. The messengers spent the night at Sleaford, and returned next day to Horncastle. On their arrival Hussey’s servants were sent home[498].
On Wednesday evening the man who had been sent to Louth came back to Horncastle in time to see the bodies of Raynes and Wolsey “burying in the churchyard.”[499]
William Morland had therefore plenty of news when he returned to Louth at supper-time. The gentlemen appointed twelve men to be sent to Lord Hussey and then went to bed meditating upon the murder of Raynes and Wolsey, the Articles of the commons, and the answer of Lord Hussey. Nor was the excitement even then at an end, for about midnight there was a fresh alarm. The commons cried that the gentlemen had betrayed them, and that they would kill them in their beds. However in the end they resolved to prove them further, and the disturbance passed over[500].
The rising was now no mere local affair. The news of the chancellor’s murder flew far and wide, and was the signal for a general arming. Beacons were burnt along the south side of the Humber, which were seen and understood in Yorkshire[501], and at 3 a.m. on Thursday morning it was reported at Beverley that all Lincolnshire was up from Barton to Lincoln[502]. Any gentleman who stayed at home was liable to be seized by his tenants to be their captain. The people were particularly anxious that the monks, for whom they were taking up arms, should share their risks and expenses, and messages were sent to the greater monasteries, which had not yet been touched by the King. The turn affairs were taking was known by Wednesday at Barlings[503]; at Bardney[504], where the abbot and his company were required to go with the commons; at Kirkstead[505], where the abbot was told that if he and his monks came not forth the house should be burnt over their heads, “upon which word, about 4 of the clock in the evening the abbot, cellarer, bursar, and all the monks of the abbey able to go, 17 in all, went to the outer gate where they met a servant of the abbey, who said the host had pardoned them for that night, but they must be at Horncastle next day at 11 o’clock”;[506] and at Grimsby, where “at night, when the commons came home, Leonard Curtis came past the (Austin) Friars’ gate in a coat of fence covered with leather, and with a long spear in his hand, and said to two friars there, ‘It were alms to set your house of fire; therefore command your prior that you come tomorrow.’ They desired him to go in himself, and so he did, and commanded the prior to have his friars ready when called, and afterwards the ‘sargyn’ brought the same command.”[507]
The need for captains was much felt by the commons in some parts, and led to the first appearance of Robert Aske among the rebels. Before Michaelmas the three Aske brothers had been staying at Ellerker in Yorkswold with their sister Agnes and her husband William Ellerker. Young Sir Ralph Ellerker was expected at the beginning of October for some fox-hunting, but he was prevented from coming by his duties as commissioner of the subsidy, so Robert Aske set out for London, in order to be there about the beginning of the law term, accompanied by Robert Aske, his brother John’s eldest son, and another nephew. They crossed the Humber at Barton, five miles from Ellerker, and heard from the ferryman of the commons’ rising and the capture of the commissioners. On landing they set out for Sawcliff, eight miles away, to spend the night at the house of Thomas Portington. They had only gone two miles when they were stopped at Ferriby by George Hudswell and a band of horsemen, who made them take the usual oath—to be true to God, the King and the Commonwealth. They were allowed to go to Sawcliff, where they found that Thomas Portington had been taken by the commons and was still with them. On this Aske became anxious to go back to Yorkshire, but on his way to the nearest ferry some of the commons met with him “and so intreat him that he was glad to repair again to Sawcliff.” There he passed the night—that is the night of Wednesday 4 October[508].
On Thursday 5 October the rebels were early astir. Before daybreak a party of them appeared at Sawcliff, came to Robert Aske’s bedside and insisted that he and his three nephews[509] should instantly go with them. Aske induced them to let the three young men go into Yorkshire because two of them was heir apparents. But it seems possible there were more pressing reasons than mere humanity; did Aske send no messages by them? The commons carried him off to join a company of some two hundred men who were mustering within three miles of Sawcliff and had no gentlemen or captains. They spent the morning in raising Kirton Soke, which had been warned against them ineffectively by Lord Borough. Aske went along Humber side with the horsemen while the footmen went inland, and they met again at Kirton at three in the afternoon[510]. The meeting-place appointed for all the different bands that day was Hambleton Hill, where in the afternoon assembled the host of Yarborough Hundred under command of Sir Robert Tyrwhit[511]; Thomas Moigne with 200 men[512]; the men of Louth, who had mustered at Towse Athyenges (Towse of the Lynge) Heath[513], and those of Horncastle, who had met between Horncastle and Scrivelsby[514]. The last named brought with them a silk banner with Lyon Dymmoke’s arms, which they had taken out of Horncastle church the day before[515]. All the monks of Kirkstead, except the abbot, joined the host, the cellarer and the bursar mounted and with battle-axes, the rest on foot. Their serving-men were also carried off by the rebels. The bursar brought money and provisions, and they were all welcomed by the sheriff. The entire muster was estimated to be 10,000 strong. On their way one company had come upon Francis Stonar, priest and surveyor to Lady Willoughby, perhaps the surveyor whom the people of Horncastle wanted to take the day before. He was roughly used, but the gentlemen saved his life, and he ransomed himself by paying £100 to their funds[516]. When all had met at Hambleton Hill the general voice was to march on Lincoln, but Moigne made a speech reminding the people that now was the time to sow wheat and till the fields for the next year, and he therefore advised them to send only a small number forward to represent them. Just then he was told that Nicholas Girlington, Robert Askew, and one Aske wished to speak with him. He knew the two former, and also knew that Aske was a lawyer. Believing they would be on the side of peace, he wished to speak to them alone, but the commons would not allow it[517]. He told Aske that they would lie that night at Rasen Wood, and next day at Dunholm Heath, and directed the commons of Kirton to meet them at Dunholm. Aske took this message to his company at Kirton. He spent the night at Sawcliff and did not rejoin the Kirton men again[518].
The host marched from Hambleton Hill to Market Rasen, and there it became necessary to make arrangements for the night. Some slept in the fields about the town, others made themselves more comfortable. A party led by Edmund, “old Lady Tailbois’ chaplain,” was advancing to the meeting-place when they met Matthew Mackerell, Abbot of Barlings[519], between Barlings monastery and Barlings Grange. They made him lodge them for the night and he gave them beef and bread and “the meat that was on the spit for his brethren’s supper.” Numbers of men entered forcibly and slept in the chambers of the monastery and “on the hay mowes” in the barns. The two leaders, whose names Mackerell did not know, commanded him to join them with all his brethren. The abbot offered to go with them and sing a litany; he pointed out that it was contrary to his vow to wear harness, yet the leaders still swore he should go. They terrified him so much that when he turned to the altar to hear mass, he trembled till “he could unnethe say his service.” In answer to their threats he gave them each a crown to buy horses. Thomas Kirton of Scotherne then came in, and said that he had met a band of horsemen coming to burn the monastery, but that he had saved it by showing them the men sleeping in the hay. He brought a message from Mr Thomas Littlebury, who advised the abbot to please “this ungracious company”; and he alarmed the poor abbot still more by telling him how “Mr Sampoull, a man of four score,” had been taken from his bed to be sworn and forced to send his son with them[520].
If things were moving fast in Lincolnshire, they were not standing still in London. Madeson and Henneage, who had left Louth at midnight on Tuesday 3 October, arrived at court about 9 a.m. on Wednesday 4 October[521]. They brought the first definite news of the outbreak. The King at once perceived that the matter was grave. So great was his anxiety that it even overcame his pride, and he sent, very reluctantly, for the Duke of Norfolk, who was living at Kenninghall in Norfolk, in a state of semi-disgrace for his opposition to Cromwell. The gentlemen in attendance at court were ordered to make ready to march against the insurgents under the command of Richard Cromwell, the Lord Privy Seal’s nephew. Horses were pressed for them by the Lord Mayor of London, who went from stable to stable, taking the horses of both foreign merchants and citizens. This vigorous measure aroused indignation, and as the King did not permit much to be said about the rising in Lincolnshire, the sufferers were told that the Count of Nassau was coming on a visit to England with a great company of men but no horses[522]. The King’s uneasiness could only be increased by the letters which must have arrived on Wednesday evening from Hussey to Cromwell[523], enclosing the commons’ summons to him, and from the Earl of Shrewsbury[524], who sent word of Lord Borough’s flight and the commons’ threats to destroy his house at Gainsborough if he would not return and lead them[525]. The Earl had sent out notices to the neighbouring gentlemen, summoning them to assemble on Thursday at Mansfield with as many men as they could collect to march against the rebels[526].
The King pressed on the preparations in London as fast as possible. He was said to distrust the city, and took from it men and horses to strengthen not only his army but also the Tower “which is his last refuge.” This action shows the uncertainty under which he laboured: he did not know how much he might have to fear. His daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, were summoned to court, as if he felt it was not safe to let them be out of his sight, and Mary was treated with more kindness and respect than she had known for a long time. “Madame Marie is now the first after the Queen, and sits at table opposite her, a little lower down, after first having given the napkin for washing to the King and Queen.” It was said that when the first news of the rebellion came Queen Jane threw herself on her knees before the King and implored him to restore the abbeys, saying that this was a judgment for their putting down. “But he told her, prudently enough, to get up, and he had often told her not to meddle with his affairs, referring to the late queen, which was enough to frighten a woman who is not very secure.”[527]
Letters missive were sent out to summon musters[528], and a proclamation was issued to delay for a year the enforcement of the statute regulating the size of woollen cloths, in order to appease the discontent among the clothmakers[529]. The only person really pleased by the news was the Duke of Norfolk. He did not believe the disturbance was anything of importance and doubted that the rebels could raise 5000 men, but he hoped that he could use the opportunity to overthrow Cromwell and bring himself back into favour. Consequently he hurried up to court on the 5th in very good spirits[530].
Cromwell, on the first coming of the news, despatched two emissaries of his own to Lincolnshire to gather information[531]. They were Sir Marmaduke Constable and Robert Tyrwhit[532]. With them went John Henneage, who had carried the commons’ first petition to the King[533]. At 9 o’clock on Thursday morning they reached Stilton and sent in their first report. The commons were said to have been 10,000 strong on Tuesday. Their oath was repeated to the writers by “an honest priest” who had been forced to take it. It ran: “Ye shall swear to be true to Almighty God, to Christ’s Catholic Church, to our Sovereign Lord the King, and unto the Commons of this realm; so help you God and Holydam and by this book.” Constable and Tyrwhit had delivered the letters of summons to several of the gentlemen. They intended to push on to Lincoln, sending a letter to the Lord Steward (Shrewsbury) from Stamford[534]. At eight o’clock that night they wrote again from Ancaster. They had learnt that the rebels were now over 20,000 and expected to be in Lincoln on Saturday. Their petition was that they might receive pardon for rising, that holydays might be kept as before, that the religious houses might stand, and that they might be taxed no more; “they would also fain have you,” i.e. Cromwell. The messengers were on their way to Lord Hussey[535]. They arrived at Sleaford late at night, and delivered their letter[536], but they found Lord Hussey quite unable to carry out the orders it contained. He had sent forward some armed servants to Colwick, close to Nottingham, intending to follow them, but when the people heard that he was about to leave them they rang the common bell and about a hundred assembled outside his gate and refused to disperse until they had seen him, crying, “Alas, we shall be brent and spoiled, and all for lack of aid.” Lord Hussey came out and asked what they wanted. They answered, “Aid,” saying he was their only aid and that they heard he would leave them. He replied he would come and go as he pleased, and “‘bade them walk home, knaves,’ trusting to see them hanged shortly.” He noticed one Bug “with a bill in his hand” and asked what he wanted. Bug answered, “In faith, my lord, to take your part, to live and die with you.” Hussey called him “a naughty busy knave,” and sent them all away “amazed,” but they declared they would not let him go, and watched his house[537]. Cromwell’s messengers dared not stay in this dangerous neighbourhood, and left Sleaford at midnight[538]. Then they separated, Henneage and Tyrwhit going back to the King, while Constable went on towards Yorkshire. They left with Hussey several letters for the knights and gentlemen, who had been “taken” by the commons[539].
Next morning, Friday 6 October, Hussey wrote to Shrewsbury, saying that he was so beset that he could not leave his house, though he was anxious to join the King’s forces, asking for orders, and promising to escape whenever he could[540]. He sent this off by a trusty servant and at the same time despatched another servant, George Cutler, to the Louth rebels, with a reply to the deputation which had waited on him the day before. Cutler was also to deliver the letters to the gentlemen with the host, and Hussey bid him “say anything to get himself away.”[541] The host was marching from Market Rasen to Lincoln, but they had not gone two miles when disputes broke out. The gentlemen complained that the commons were unruly and said “they should be ordered whether they would or no”; in the end the commons submitted and the host went on. A rumour spread that Lord Borough would join them that day, and though there was no truth in it the commons were much encouraged[542]. The next halt was at Dunholm Lings, where the men of Kirton Soke were waiting, as Aske and Moigne had appointed[543]. Here Cutler came to them[544]. Perhaps the gentlemen were not too well pleased to receive the King’s letters at such a time. At any rate Sir William Askew questioned Cutler as to whether Lord Hussey were at home and would take their part; he replied that “he and all his house were at the commons’ command.”[545] In spite of this prudent answer he was carried to Lincoln with the host[546]. The rebels had sent on a party before them to prepare lodgings in the town, and when they arrived they were well received. The officers of the city gave orders that provisions should be sold to them at reasonable rates[547]. They had so far been without artillery, but in Lincoln they found some guns which, it was believed, had come from Grimsby[548]; had these anything to do with Guy Kyme’s business at Grimsby the week before?
The gentlemen lodged in the Close and the commons in the town[549]. The first to arrive was the company from Louth, and they were joined by the commons of the city with whom they spent a pleasant time in spoiling the palace of the hated Bishop[550]. The host of Horncastle came to Lincoln either this day or early on the morrow. On the march the Abbot of Barlings had met them at Langwith Lane End. In reply to repeated orders he brought them “beer, bread, cheese and six bullocks,” and was accompanied by his brethren. When he had given the provisions to the sheriff, he begged that he and his monks might be allowed to go home, but the leaders resolved that six of them must go with the host next day, “seeing they were tall men.” The abbot was given a passport permitting him to gather victuals for the commons; his secret intention, as he said, was to use this to slip out of the country[551].
The sheriff summoned the people of Boston to meet “the great host” at Ancaster on Sunday 8 October[552]. On receiving this letter the whole of Holland rose, and the gentlemen were compelled to take the oath, under pain of having their goods seized. Two thousand men rose in Boston, and it was believed that the whole number of the rebels was 40,000 “harnessed men and naked men clad in bends of leather.” Those who were latest to rise said “they would do as their neighbours did, for they could not die in a better quarrel than God’s and the King’s.” The list of grievances which they presented to the gentlemen was not quite the same as the one drawn up at Horncastle. The reforms which they desired were (1) that the Church of England should have its old accustomed privileges without any exaction; (2) that suppressed houses of religion should be restored, “except such houses as the King hath suppressed for his pleasure only”; (3) that the bishops of Canterbury, Rochester, Lincoln, Ely, Bishop Latimer and others and the Lord Privy Seal, the Master of the Rolls, and the Chancellor of the Augmentations, should be delivered up to the commons, or else banished the realm; (4) that the King should demand no more money of his subjects except for the defence of the realm[553].
Cromwell had sent Christopher Askew[554], one of the King’s gentlemen ushers, to gather news. On Friday he reported that he had advanced into the country as far as he dared, apparently to Spalding. His report is a mixture of hearsay and fact; like the gentlemen of Holland he estimated the number of the rebels at 40,000 or more,—10,000 or 12,000 well harnessed, and 30,000 more, “some harnessed and some not.” The journeymen were deserting their masters, and the towns were left defenceless. “About Stamford, Spalding and Peterborough they are very faint in rising against the rebels.” In fact they were readier to take the other side, but Mr Harrington showed them the King’s commission and they were pacified and glad that the King was coming. Askew advised that more commissions of this kind should be sent. The people murmured among themselves that if they held not together they would be undone, “for it is reported that they shall pay a third part of their goods to the King and be sworn what they are worth, and if they swear untruly other men will have their goods.” He had heard the rumours that some had gone to burn Lord Borough’s house, and that Bellowe had been baited to death. He also said “they have made a nun in your abbey Legbourn and an abbot at Louth Park.” But this seems to be a mistake, for, unlike the Yorkshire rebels, the commons of Lincolnshire made no attempt to restore the suppressed houses. Mr Harrington had commanded the Prior of Spalding to raise as many men as he could for the King, “and he answered he was a spiritual man and would make none.” Askew had heard that Hussey’s tenants would not rise for him, and it was said he would be taken that night[555].
The last report was well founded. Hussey’s servant Cutler met a spy of Shrewsbury’s when the rebels took him to Lincoln. Perhaps he did not know this man as a friend; at any rate he told him that Hussey was about to join the rebels[556]. He managed to leave the town that night and warned his master that the gentlemen were going to send to bring him in[557]. Thanks to this news Hussey escaped in the night disguised as a priest[558]. He was just in time, for on Saturday 7 October the host at Lincoln sent out several bands to find and bring in gentlemen[559]. Five hundred men under Sir Christopher Askew were despatched for Lord Hussey[560]. Before they arrived, Anthony Irebye, one of the commissioners of Holland, brought to Sleaford a troop of about eight score men which he had raised to serve the King. He found that Hussey had fled, but in obedience to a letter from him the little troop afterwards joined the King’s forces[561]. When Sir Christopher Askew reached Sleaford he was met by the principal people of the town, including Robert Carre, who begged him not to spoil their houses. Sir Christopher promised to protect them, and made them join his company. Hearing that Lord Hussey had fled, the rebels began to cry, “Fire the house!” but their captain spoke with Lady Hussey and satisfied his followers by making her promise to follow her husband and bring him back[562]. George Hudswell of Caistor was appointed to accompany her, but they did not start that day[563]. After the company had set out for Lincoln, a tempest of rain drove them back, and they took refuge from the weather in the Bishop of Lincoln’s castle at Sleaford, where they spent the night, doing much damage. Lady Hussey gave them provisions,—beer, salt fish, and bread[564]. Next morning (Sunday 8 October) she sent more food to them, and offered Sir Christopher twenty angel nobles, which he refused to take[565]. While the rebels made their way back to Lincoln, she and Hudswell set out in search of Lord Hussey, whom they found at Colwick[566]. He refused to go with them to join the rebels at Lincoln, and ordered them to follow him to Shrewsbury, who was to hold a muster at Nottingham next day[567]. Hussey had received an answer to his letter of the 6th which might well make him anxious. Misled by the report of the spy who had been told by Cutler that Hussey was wavering if not actually pledged to the rebels[568], Shrewsbury had become suspicious of his loyalty. He wrote: “My lord, for the old acquaintance and familiarity between us I will be plain with you. You have always shown yourself an honourable and true gentleman, and no man may do the King higher service in those parts by staying these misruled persons and finding means to withdraw the gentlemen and men of substance from among them, when the commons could do small hurt. For I assure you, on my troth, all the King’s subjects of the counties of Derby, Salop, Stafford, Worcester, Leicester and Northampton will be with me tomorrow to the number of 40,000 and I trust you will keep us company.”[569] In the face of these suspicions it is no wonder that Hussey was angry with his wife when she implored him to return to the rebels. He rode to the Lord Steward with what speed he might.