A FORGOTTEN WORTHY
I have to speak of a 'worthy' of Southwark who is only now remembered by
the curious as the alleged original of Sir John Falstaff. If Shakespeare
drew his incomparable knight from a portrait of Sir John Fastolf, then
one can only say that the portrait in no single particular resembled the
original. Sir John Fastolf was a great and, on the whole, a successful
soldier who spent forty years fighting and commanding in France.
Shakespeare's knight was unwarlike, even cowardly; fat: a frequenter of
taverns and of low company, with no dignity and no authority. The only
point that may lend colour to the theory that Fastolf was Falstaff lies
in the fact that Fastolf was accused of cowardice at a certain battle,
one of the many which he fought: and that on his return from France, the
English, exasperated at their losses, laid the blame as they always do
upon their most distinguished soldiers. Fastolf was as unpopular in his
old age as any defeated general: there is no unpopularity so great: yet
Fastolf was never a defeated general.
Shakespeare knew no more about Fastolf than the traditional charge of
cowardice. In the First Part of 'Henry VI.' he presents him running
away:
_Captain._ Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in haste?
_Fast._ Whither away? To save myself by flight.
We are like to have the overthrow again.
_Captain._ What? Will you fly and leave Lord Talbot?
_Fast._ Ay,
All Talbots in the world to save my life.
And again in Act IV. Talbot denounces Fastolf:
This dastard, at the Battle of Patay,
When but in all I was six thousand strong,
And that the French were almost ten to one,
Before we met, or that a stroke was given,
Like to a trusty knight, did run away.
And he tears off the Garter which Sir John was wearing.
Sir John Fastolf came of a Norfolk family; his people held the manors of
Caister and Rudham. He was born in the year 1378, and became, after the
fashion of the times, first a page to the Duke of Norfolk and next to
Thomas of Lancaster, Henry the Fourth's second son.
Caxton says that he 'exercised the wars in the royaume of France and
other countries by forty yeares enduring.' If so he must have been
fighting in France or elsewhere across the seas as early as 1400.
Perhaps he went over earlier. He was, at least, successful in getting
promotion, and promotion in a time of continuous war cannot be bestowed
on a soldier incapable or cowardly. He became Governor of Veires in
Germany and of Harfleur. He fought with distinction at Agincourt: at the
taking of Caen and at the siege of Rouen: he was Governor of
Condé-sur-Noireau and of other places, as they were taken. We find him,
for instance, the Governor of the Bastille in Paris. When Henry V. died,
in 1422, he became Master of the Household to the Duke of Bedford,
Regent of France. He was Lieutenant-Governor of Normandy and Governor of
Anjou and Maine. It is remarkable to observe that in spite of his great
services he was not knighted until 1417, when he was already forty years
of age. In 1426, he was made a Knight of the Garter. In 1429, he won the
day at the 'Battle of the Herrings,' when with a small company of
archers he put to flight an army.
His record does not lead one to expect a charge of cowardice. Yet the
charge was brought. It was after the Battle of Patay, in which Talbot
was taken prisoner and the English totally defeated. The reverse was
attributed by Talbot to the cowardly defection of Fastolf, rather than
to his own incompetence. Fastolf demanded an investigation, which was
made, with the result of his acquittal. Probably Lord Talbot persisted
in his explanation of defeat. The age, it must be confessed, was not
exactly chivalrous. The Wars of the Roses, which were about to begin,
brought to light gallant knights without truth or fidelity: perjured
princes as well as perjured barons: accusations and recriminations:
shameless desertions and changes of front. An evil time. If Lord Talbot
simply tried to shift the blame of his own defeat upon Fastolf, it would
be what other noble lords were perfectly ready to do in their anxiety to
escape responsibility in the loss of France: a disaster, as it was then
thought, which brought the greatest humiliation on the people. As for
Fastolf, he continued to receive posts of honour and distinction. Yet
the common people heard the reports brought home by the soldiers:
nothing is more easy than a charge of treachery and cowardice: they knew
nothing of the acquittal. To them Fastolf became in common talk the
coward who single-handed lost France by always running away.
After the Battle of Patay, Fastolfe became Governor of Caen: he raised
the siege of Vaudmont: took prisoner the Duc de Bar: he was twice
appointed ambassador: he fought in the army of the Duc de Bretagne
against the Duc d'Alençon: and he was ordered to draw up a report of the
war. All this does not show much confidence in Lord Talbot's accusation.
In 1440, then sixty-two years of age, he sheathed his sword, put off his
armour and returned to England. Few men could show a longer, or a finer,
record of war. In 1441 he received from the Duke of York an annuity of
£20 a year, 'pro notabili et laudabili servicio ac bono consilio.' He
spent the rest of his life partly in his house at Southwark and partly
in his castle of Caister, which he built himself: we may very well
understand that he was a man of great wealth when we read that the
castle covered five acres of land.
[Illustration: WHITE HART INN, SOUTHWARK]
These are the achievements of the man. About his private life and
character we have a great fund of information in the 'Paston Letters.'
His latest biographer ('S. L. L.' in the 'Dictionary of National
Biography') concludes from these letters that Fastolf was a 'grasping
man of business:' that he spent his old age in 'amassing wealth:' that
he was a testy neighbour: that his dependents had much to endure at his
hands. All these things may certainly be inferred from the letters. At
the same time we must consider, apart from the letters, the manners of
the age and the conditions of the age.
Let us take the charges one by one.
First, that his dependents had much to endure from him.
It was not a time when dependents spent their time as they pleased. In a
well-ordered household every man had his post and his work. An old
Knight who had fought for forty years and commanded armies was not at
all likely to be a master of a soft and indulgent kind. There is no
greater disciplinarian than the old soldier: no household is more
sternly ruled than his. This man had not only commanded armies, he had
governed provinces, cities, castles: he had wielded despotic authority:
he had found it necessary to master every branch of human activity,
including the law and the chicanery of lawyers: as the general in
command or the Governor of the Province considered the interests of his
master the King before everything, so Fastolf expected his dependents to
consider his interests as before everything else. The stern old Captain,
I can very well believe, looked to every one of his dependents for his
share of work, and I can also very well believe that they feared him as
the masterful man is always feared.
One of these dependents calls him 'cruel and vengeful.' But he gives no
reasons.
[Illustration: SURREY END OF LONDON BRIDGE, FROM HIGH STREET, SOUTHWARK]
One does not carry on war for forty years in the midst of spies,
traitors, robbers, and all the villainy of a camp without becoming stern
and hard. As a soldier he had to harden himself: as a governor he had to
observe justice rather than pity: as a judge it was his duty to punish
criminals. I picture a stern, determined man, grey and worn, with hard
eyes and strong mouth, one who looked for a thing to be done as soon as
he commanded it, at the coming of whom his servants became instantly
absorbed in work, at whose footstep his secretaries dared not lift their
heads.
Next we are told that he was a 'testy neighbour.' The letters are full
of complaints about trespass, invasion of his rights, and attempts to
over-reach him. How could a man choose but prove a 'testy neighbour' at
a time when the law was powerless and every man was trying to enlarge
his boundaries at the expense of his next neighbour? The land robber was
everywhere moving landmarks and claiming what was not his own. Private
persons, simple esquires, had to fortify their houses against their
neighbours and to prepare for a siege. 'I pray you,' says Margaret
Paston, 'to get some crossebows and wyndace to bind them with, and
quarrel'--_i.e._ bolts--'for your house is so low that ther may no man
shoot with no long bow though he had never so much mind.' And she goes
on to enumerate the warlike preparations made by her neighbour.
Sir John Fastolf himself orders five dozen long bows, and quarrels for
his own house in Norfolk. John Paston complains how Robert Hungerford,
Knight, and Lord Moleyne and Alianor his wife, entered forcibly upon his
house and manor of Gresham with a thousand people at their heels, and
robbed and pillaged, turning his wife and servants into the road.
These are things which do sometimes make neighbours testy.
But he is a 'grasping man of business.'
Hear, then, this story. The Duke of Suffolk seizes upon property
belonging to Fastolf. The judges are bribed and justice cannot be had.
Sir John and his friend, Mr. Justice Yelverton, resolve to address the
Duke of Norfolk, and to let him know that the counties of Norfolk and
Suffolk 'do stand right wildly. Without a mun may be that justice be
hadde.' Is it a surprising thing that an old soldier should resolve to
get justice if possible? Is it right to call a man 'grasping' because he
stands up in his own defence? Read again the following. 'I pray you
sende me worde who darre be so hardy to kick agen you in my ryght. And
sey hem on my half that they shall be givyt as ferre as law and reson
wolle. And yff they wolle not dredde, ne obey that, then they shall be
quyt by Blackberd or Whiteberd: that ys to say by God or the Devyll. And
therefor I charge you, send me word whethyr such as hafe be myne
adversaries before thys tyme, contynew still yn their wylfullnesse.' I
see nothing unworthy or grasping in this letter: only a plain soldier's
resolve to get justice or he would know the reason why.
It is further objected that he had long-standing claims against the
Crown, and was always setting them forth and pressing them. If his
claims were just, why should he not press them? If a man makes a claim
and does not press it, what does it mean except that he is afraid of
pressing it or that it is an unjust claim?
The estates which he owned, apart from the claims which were never
settled, amounted altogether to a very considerable property well worth
defending. He had no fewer than ninety-four manors: there were four
residences--Caister: Southwark: Castle Scrope, and another: there was a
sum of money in the treasure chest of 2,643_l._ 10_s._, equivalent to
about 50,000_l._ of our money. There were no banks in those days and no
investments: a gentleman bought lands and plate and armour and weapons:
he spent, as a rule, the greater part of his income, showing his wealth
and his rank by the splendid manner of living. Sir John Fastolf, for
instance, had 3,400 oz. of silver plate; and besides, a wardrobe full of
costly robes.
His house stood on the banks of the river in Stoney Lane, which now
leads from Tooley Street to Pickleherring Street. The Knight had good
neighbours. On the east of St. Olave's Church was the ancient house
built in the 12th century for the Earl of Warren and Surrey, and given
by his successor to the Abbot of St. Augustine's, Canterbury. Next to
the Abbot's Inn came, with the Bridge House between, the Abbot of
Battle's Inn, a great building on the river bank, with gardens lying on
the other side of what is now Tooley Street. The site was long marked by
'The Maze' and 'Maze Pond.' Then came Fastolf's House. There are no
means of ascertaining the appearance or the size of the place. It was
certainly a building round a quadrangle capable of housing many
followers, because he proposed to fill it with a garrison and so to meet
Cade's insurgents. Moreover, a man of such great authority and wealth
would not be contented with a small house. On the south side of St.
Olave's Church, nearly opposite Fastolf's house, was the Inn or House of
the Abbot of Lewes. And half a mile across the fields and gardens rose
the towers and walls of St. Saviour's Abbey, Bermondsey. Perhaps there
were other great houses east of Sir John Fastolf's, but I think not,
because as late as 1720 fields begin a little to the east of Stoney
Lane. Now, though fields precede houses, houses seldom precede fields. A
house often degenerates, but is rarely converted into a meadow. This,
however, did happen with Kennington Palace. We know, for example, that
the house called Augustin's Inn came to the Sellinger family, and being
deserted by them was presently let out in tenements till it was pulled
down and replaced by other buildings. According to these indications,
then, Fastolf's house was the last of the great houses on the east side
of London Bridge. There is another proof that it was a large house.
Fastolf kept a fleet of coasting vessels which continually sailed from
Caister or Yarmouth to London bringing provisions and supplies of all
kinds for his house at Southwark. This fact not only proves that his
household was very large, but it illustrates one way in which the great
houses, the ecclesiastical houses and the nobles' houses were
victualled. If those whose manors lay within easy reach of a port kept
ships for the conveyance of provisions from the country to London it is
certain that those who lived inland sent up caravans of pack-horses
laden with the produce of their estates and sent up to town flocks of
cattle and sheep and droves of pigs.
[Illustration: The Site of Sir John Fastolf's House in Tooley Street]
I have spoken of Sir John's intention to make a stand at Southwark
against the rebels under Cade. Fortunately for himself and for everybody
with him, he was persuaded to retire across the river to the Tower
before the rebels reached the gates. The story is one of the most
interesting in the whole of the 'Paston Letters,' which, to tell the
truth, unless one looks into them for persons we already know, are
somewhat dull in the reading.
When the Commons of Kent were reported to be approaching London in the
year 1450, Sir John Fastolf filled his house in Southwark with old
soldiers from Normandy and 'abyllyments' of war. This rumour reached the
rebels and naturally caused them considerable anxiety. So when they
caught a spy among them in the shape of one John Payn, a servant of Sir
John, they were disposed to make an example of him. And now you shall
hear what happened to John Payn in his own words, the spelling being
only partly modernised.
'Pleasyth it your gode and gracios maistershipp tendyrly to consedir the
grate losses and hurts that your por peticioner haeth, and haeth had
evyr seth the comons of Kent come to the Blakheth,[5] and that is at XV.
yer passed whereas my maister Syr John Fastolf, Knyght, that is youre
testator,[6] commandyt your besecher to take a man, and ij. of the beste
orsse that wer in his stabyll, with hym to ryde to the comens of Kent,
to gete the articles that they come for. And so I dyd: and al so sone as
I come to the Blakheth, the capteyn[7] made the comens to take me. And
for the savacion of my maisters horse, I made my fellowe to ryde a way
with the ij. horses; and I was brought forth with befor the Capteyn of
Kent. And the capteyn demaundit me what was my cause of comyng thedyr,
and why that I made my fellowe to stele a wey with the horse. And I seyd
that I come thedyr to chere with my wyves brethren, and other that were
my alys and gossipps of myn that were present there. And than was there
oone there, and seid to the capteyn that I was one of Syr John Fastolfes
men, and the ij. horse were Syr John Fastolfes; and then the capteyn
lete cry treson upon me thorough all the felde, and brought me at iiij.
partes of the feld with a harrawd of the Duke of Exeter[8] before me in
the dukes cote of armes, makyng iiij. _Oyes_ at iiij. partes of the
feld; proclaymyng opynly by the seid harrawd that I was sent thedyr for
to espy theyre pusaunce, and theyre abyllyments of werr, fro the
grettyst traytor that was in Yngelond or in Fraunce, as the seyd capteyn
made proclaymacion at that tyme, fro oone Syr John Fastolf, Knyght, the
whech mynnysshed all the garrisons of Normaundy, and Manns, and Mayn,
the whech was the cause of the lesyng of all the Kyngs tytyll and ryght
of an herytaunce that he had by yonde see. And morovyr he seid that the
seid Sir John Fastolf had furnysshyd his plase with the olde sawdyors of
Normaundy and abyllyments of werr, to destroy the comens of Kent whan
that they come to Southwerk; and therfor he seyd playnly that I shulde
lese my hede.
'And so furthewith I was taken, and led to the capteyns tent, and j. ax
and j. blok was brought forth to have smetyn of myn hede; and than my
maister Ponyngs, your brodyr,[9] with other of my frendes, come and
lettyd the capteyn, and seyd pleynly that there shulde dye a C. or ij.
(a hundred or two), that in case be that I dyed; and so by that meane my
lyf was savyd at that tyme. And than I was sworen to the capteyn, and to
the comens, that I shulde go to Southwerk, and aray me in the best wyse
that I coude, and come ageyn to hem to helpe hem; and so I gote th'
articles, and brought hem to my maister, and that cost me more emongs
the comens that day than xxvijs.
'Wherupon I come to my maister Fastolf, and brought hym th' articles,
and enformed hym of all the mater, and counseyled hym to put a wey all
his abyllyments of werr and the olde sawdiors; and so he dyd, and went
hymself to the Tour, and all his meyny with hym but betts and j.
(_i.e._ one) Mathew Brayn; and had not I ben, the comens wolde have
brennyd his plase and all his tennuryes, wher thorough it coste me of my
noune propr godes at that tyme more than vj. merks in mate and drynke;
and nought withstondyng the capteyn that same tyme lete take me atte
Whyte Harte in Suthewerk, and there comandyt Lovelase to dispoyle me
oute of myn aray, and so he dyd. And there he toke a fyn gowne of muster
dewyllers[10] furryd with fyn bevers, and j. peyr of Bregandyrns[11]
kevert with blew fellewet (velvet) and gylt naile, with leg-harneyse,
the vallew of the gown and the bregardyns viijli.
'Item, the capteyn sent certeyn of his meyny to my chamber in your
rents, and there breke up my chest, and toke awey j. obligacion of myn
that was due unto me of xxxvjli. by a prest of Poules, and j. nother
obligacion of j. knyght of xli., and my purse with v. ryngs of golde,
and xvijs. vjd. of golde and sylver; and j. herneyse (harness) complete
of the touche of Milleyn;[12] and j. gowne of fyn perse[13] blewe furryd
with martens; and ij. gounes, one furreyd with bogey,[14] and j. nother
lyned with fryse;[15] and ther wolde have smetyn of myn hede, whan that
they had dyspoyled me atte White Hart. And there my Maister Ponyngs and
my frends savyd me, and so I was put up tyll at nyght that the batayle
was at London Brygge;[16] and than atte nyght the captyn put me oute into
the batayle atte Brygge, and there I was woundyt, and hurt nere hand to
deth; and there I was vj. oures in the batayle, and myght nevyr come
oute therof; and iiij. tymes before that tyme I was caryd abought
thorough Kent and Sousex, and ther they wolde have smetyn of my hede.
'And in Kent there as my wyfe dwellyd, they toke awey all oure godes
movabyll that we had, and there wolde have hongyd my wyfe and v. of my
chyldren, and lefte her no more gode but her kyrtyll and her smook. And
a none aftye that hurlyng, the Bysshop Roffe,[17] apechyd me to the
Quene, and so I was arestyd by the Quenes commaundment in to the
Marchalsy, and there was in rygt grete durasse, and fere of myn lyf, and
was thretenyd to have ben hongyd, drawen, and quarteryd; and so wold
have made me to have pechyd my Maister Fastolf of treson. And by cause
that I wolde not, they had me up to Westminster, and there wolde have
sent me to the gole house at Wyndsor; but my wyves and j. coseyn of myn
noune that were yomen of the Croune, they went to the Kyng, and got
grase and j. chartyr of pardon.'
Here we see the popular opinion of Fastolf 'the greatest traitor in
England or in France:' he who 'mynnyshed all the garrisons of Normandy,
and Manns, and Mayn:' he who was the cause of the 'lesyng of all the
Kyng's tytyll and rights of an heritaunce that he had by yonde see.'
The whole story is in the highest degree dramatic. Sir John wants to
know what the rebellion means. Let one of his men go and find out. Let
him take two horses in case of having to run for it: the rebels will
most probably kill him if they catch him. Well: it is all in the day's
work: what can a man expect? Would the fellow live for ever? What can he
look for except to be killed some time or other? So John Payn takes two
horses and sets off. As we expected, he does get caught: he is brought
before Mortimer as a spy. At this point we are reminded of the false
herald in 'Quentin Durward,' but in this case it is a real herald
pressed into the service of Mortimer, _alias_ Jack Cade. Now the
Captain is by way of being a gentleman: very likely he was: the story
about him, that he had been a common soldier, is improbable and
supported by no kind of evidence. However, he conducts the affair in a
courteous fashion. No moblike running to the nearest tree: no beating
along the prisoner to be hanged upon a branch: not at all: the prisoner
is conducted with much ceremony to the four quarters of the camp and at
each is proclaimed by the herald a spy. Then the axe and the block are
brought out. The prisoner feels already the bitterness of death. But his
friends interfere: he must be spared or a hundred heads shall fall. He
is spared: on condition that he goes back, arrays himself in his best
harness and returns to fight on the side of the rebels.
Observe that this faithful person gets the 'articles' that his master
wants: he also reports on the strength of the rebellion in-so-much that
Sir John breaks up his garrison and retreats across the river to the
Tower. But before going he tells the man that he must keep his parole
and go back to the rebels to be killed by them or among them. So the
poor man puts on his best harness and goes back.
They spoil him of every thing: and then, they put him in the crowd of
those who fight on London Bridge.
It was a very fine battle. Jack Cade had already entered London when he
murdered Lord Saye, and Sir James Cromer, Sheriff of Kent, and plundered
and fined certain merchants. He kept up, however, the appearance of a
friend of the people and permitted no plundering of the lower sort. So
that one is led to believe that in the fight the merchants, themselves,
and the better class held the bridge.
The following account comes from Holinshed. It must be remembered that
the battle was fought on the night of Sunday the 5th of July, in
midsummer, when there is no night, but a clear soft twilight, and when
the sun rises by four in the morning. It was a wild sight that the sun
rose upon that morning. The Londoners and the Kentish men, with shouts
and cries, alternately beat each other back upon the narrow bridge,
attack and defence growing feebler as the night wore on. And all night
long the bells rang to call the citizens to arms in readiness to take
their place on the bridge. And all night the old and the young and the
women lay trembling in their beds lest the men of London should be
beaten back by the men of Kent, and these should come in with fire and
sword to pillage and destroy. All night long without stopping: the dead
were thrown over the bridge: the wounded fell and were trampled upon
until they were dead: and beneath their feet the quiet tide ebbed and
flowed through the arches.
[Illustration: HOUSES IN HIGH STREET, SOUTHWARK, 1550]
'The maior and other magistrates of London, perceiving themselves
neither to be sure of goods nor of life well warranted determined to
repell and keepe out of their citie such a mischievous caitife and his
wicked companie. And to be the better able so to doo, they made the lord
Scales, and that renowned Capteine Matthew Gough privie both of their
intent and enterprise, beseeching them of their helpe and furtherance
therein. The lord Scales promised them his aid, with shooting off the
artillerie in the Tower; and Matthew Gough was by him appointed to
assist the maior and Londoners in all that he might, and so he and other
capteins, appointed for defense of the citie, tooke upon them in the
night to keepe the bridge, and would not suffer the Kentish men once to
approach. The rebels, who never soundlie slept for feare of sudden
assaults, hearing that the bridge was thus kept, ran with great hast to
open that passage where between both parties was a fierce and cruell
fight.
'Matthew Gough perceiving the rebels to stand to their tackling more
manfullie than he thought they would have done, advised his companie not
to advance anie further toward Southwarke, till the daie appeared; that
they might see where the place of jeopardie rested, and so to provide
for the same; but this little availed. For the rebels with their
multitude drave back the citizens from the stoops at the bridge foot to
the draw bridge, and began to set fire to diverse houses. Great ruth it
was to behold the miserable state, wherein some desiring to eschew the
fire died upon their enimies weapon; women with children in their armes
lept for feare into the river, other in a deadlie care how to save
themselves, betweene fire, water, and sword, were in their houses choked
and smothered. Yet the capteins not sparing, fought on the bridge all
the night valiantlie, but in conclusion the rebels gat the draw bridge,
and drowned manie, and slue John Sutton, alderman, and Robert Heisand, a
hardie citizen, with manie other, beside Matthew Gough, a man of great
wit and much experience in feats of chivalrie, the which in continuall
warres had spent his time in service of the king and his father.
'This sore conflict indured in doubtfull wise on the bridge, till nine
of the clocke in the morning; for somtime, the Londoners were beaten
backe to saint Magnus corner; and suddenlie againe, the rebels were
repelled to the stoops in Southwarke, so that both parts being faint and
wearie, agreed to leave off from fighting till the next daie; upon
condition that neither Londoners should passe into Southwarke, nor
Kentish men into London. Upon this abstinence, this rake-hell capteine
for making him more friends, brake up the gaites of the kings Bench and
Marshalsie and so were manie mates set at libertie verie meet for his
matters in hand.' (Holinshed, iii. p. 226.)
When the rebellion was over they clapped the unlucky Payn into prison
and tried to get out of him some admission that might enable them to
impeach Sir John of treason. This old soldier was not without some love
of letters. One of his household, William Worcester, wrote for him
Cicero 'De Senectute,' printed by Caxton a few years later. A MS. also
exists in the British Museum called 'The Dictes and Sayings of the
Philosophers,' said to have been translated for him by Stephen Perope
his stepson.
After the Cade rebellion he returned to his house in Southwark but
seldom. He went down into Norfolk, employed his ships in carrying stone
and built his great castle of Caistor, which covered five acres. He
purposed founding a College at Caistor for seven priests and seven poor
folk. He assisted the building of philosophy schools at Cambridge: he
made gifts to Magdalen College, Oxford. His intentions as to the College
were never carried out, the bequest being transferred to Magdalen
College, Oxford, for the support of seven poor priests and seven poor
scholars. He died at the age of eighty. It was the misfortune of this
stout old warrior that the latter half of his fighting career was in a
losing cause: it was also his misfortune to incur a great part of the
odium that falls upon a general who is on the losing side: at the same
time, in his own actions he was, almost without exception, victorious:
and there does not seem any reason why he more than any other should
bear the blame of the English reverses. It was probably in deference to
popular opinion that no honours were paid to the veteran of so many
fights. Perhaps he was not a _persona grata_ at Court. Certainly the
story of Payn's imprisonment indicates some enemy in high quarters. Why
should the Government desire to charge him with treason?
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Jack Cade and his followers encamped on Blackheath on June 11, 1450,
and again from June 29 to July 1. Payn refers to the latter occasion.
[6] Sir John Fastolf (who is dead at the date of this letter) left
Paston his executor, as will be seen hereafter.
[7] Jack Cade.
[8] Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter. During the civil war which followed,
he adhered to the House of Lancaster, though he married Edward IV.'s
sister. His herald had probably been seized by Cade's followers, and
pressed into their service.
[9] Robert Poynings, who, some years before this letter was written, had
married Elizabeth, the sister of John Paston, was sword-bearer and
carver to Cade, and was accused of creating disturbances on more than
one occasion afterwards.
[10] 'A kind of mixed grey woollen cloth, which continued in use to
Elizabeth's reign.'--Halliwell.
[11] A brigandine was a coat of leather or quilted linen, with small
iron plates sewed on.--_See_ Grose's _Antient Armour_. The back and
breast of this coat were sometimes made separately, and called a
pair.--Meyrick.
[12] Milan was famous for its manufacture of arms and armour.
[13] 'Skye or bluish grey. There was a kind of cloth so
called.'--Halliwell.
[14] Budge fur.
[15] Frieze. A coarse narrow cloth, formerly much in use.
[16] The battle on London Bridge was on the 5th of July.
[17] Fenn gives this name 'Rosse' with two long s's, but translates it
Rochester, from which it is presumed that it was written 'Roffe' for
_Roffensis_. The Bishop of Rochester's name was John Lowe.