THE PILGRIMAGE OF GRACE. 1536
When Cromwell entered the King’s service, it was inevitable that the
policy he adopted should force him to abandon all hope of popularity
with the people at large, as soon as his real position became generally
known. The efforts Henry and his minister made to conceal the identity
of the true author of the sweeping changes of the years 1530-1534, bear
testimony to the fact that they were both perfectly well aware of the
opposition the new measures must arouse in the minds of those who were
outside the Court circle and consequently could not see the reason of
them. For a long time these efforts were crowned with success. We have
seen that it was not until the year 1535 that those who were in close
proximity to the King discovered what a power Cromwell had become in
Church and State. It was even longer before the country people began to
realize the true state of affairs. News of the extraordinary revolution
in ecclesiastical matters, of the King’s divorce and second marriage, of
the packed Parliaments, and of the ruthless execution of so-called
heretics, slowly spread among the rural population. The changes were
certainly unwelcome, but they were universally thought to be the work of
the King alone, and traditional English respect for royalty was
sufficient to check any serious outbreak. The common people contented
themselves with vague murmurings and disloyal speeches which were soon
suppressed through the efficiency of Cromwell’s agents; and by the
opening of the year 1535 the King and his minister began to hope that
the crisis had been tided over.
But they were destined to be disappointed. At the very moment when he
began to think himself secure in his almost exclusive enjoyment of his
master’s favour, Cromwell took a measure which was destined to conduce
directly to the formidable rising that nearly hurled him from his
hard-won place. The moment the Vicar-general sent out his agents to
visit the monasteries, the Englishman of the country began to realize
that the puzzling changes, of which he had hitherto understood so
little, were going to have an important and also a disagreeable effect
on his own life. Up to this time he had been unwilling actively to
express his dissatisfaction at the new measures, because they had seemed
but remotely connected with his own fortunes: but now there came an
evidence to the contrary which he did not fail to appreciate. The army
of outcast monks and nuns, from whom in old days he had been accustomed
to receive every sort of kindness, now passed his door, begging for food
and shelter. The spoil which he had perhaps filched from the monastery
suppressed near by, had not been sufficient to repay him for the injury
to the inmates whom he had been taught to love and respect. His griefs
are vividly described in the following verses of a song written for the
Yorkshire rebels in the autumn of 1536:
1.
Crist crucifyd
for thy wound_es_ wide
vs co_m_mons guyde
which pilgram_es_ be
thrughe god_es_ grace
for to purchache
olde welth & peax
of the sp_irit_ualtie.
2.
Gret god_es_ fame
doith church p_ro_clame
now to be lame
and fast in bound_es_
robbyd spoled & shorne
from catell & corne
and clene furth borne
of howsez & land_es_.
3.
alacke alacke
for the church sake
pore comons wake
& no m_er_vell
for clere it is
the decay of this
how the pore shall mys
no tong can tell.
4.
for ther they hade
boith ale & breyde
at tyme of nede
and succur grete
in alle distresse
and hevynes
* * * *
and wel intrete.
5.
In troubil & care
where that we were
in man_er_ all bere
of o_ur_ substance
we founde good bate
at churche me_n_ gate
without checkmate
or vary_au_nce[431].
Such were the complaints which arose among the country folk as a result
of the suppression of the monasteries. And just at the moment that this
intensely unpopular measure began to be carried out in earnest, and
largely as a result of it, the veil which had hitherto prevented the
people from recognizing the true author of the hated innovations was
torn away, and a pretext was offered for a revolt, which had it been
directed against the King, would have been no better than treason. The
people fastened on Cromwell as the author of all their troubles; and the
thought that a man whom they knew to be low-born, of no better or more
noble origin than themselves, had been able to cause them such misery,
was enough to kindle a smouldering fire of discontent into a brilliant
blaze. A crusade against Cromwell, they argued, could not be regarded as
a revolt against the royal authority. They had no complaint against the
King, or even against any of the nobles, but they were determined to rid
themselves at one blow of the plebeian minister whom they thoroughly
detested and whom they had no cause to respect: with the destruction of
Cromwell and his agents, they were certain that the good old days would
return. The last verse of their war-song contained a frank avowal of
their object:
‘Crim[432] crame[433] & riche[434]
w_i_t_h_ thre lll[435] and _th_e liche[436]
as sum me_n_ teache
god theym amend
And that aske may
w_i_t_h_out delay
here make A stay
and well to end[437].’
The reasons why the rising against the authority of Cromwell, known to
posterity by the suggestive name of the Pilgrimage of Grace, was
organized, and set afoot in the northern counties, are not far to seek.
In the first place devotion to the Old Faith, and to the cause of Queen
Katherine, was far stronger in the north than in the south of England.
A comparison of the ‘comperta’ of the northern and southern monasteries,
or of the details of the different visitations, will easily convince the
reader of this discrepancy. In the south occur constant complaints by
the monks that their superiors failed to observe the canons of religious
asceticism; and on the other hand, whenever an abbot refused to
acknowledge the Royal Supremacy, his subordinates were always sure to
report him to head quarters, in the hope of gaining favour with the King
or Cromwell[438]. The letters of Dr. Legh from the south of England
contain frequent reports of ‘towardness’ among the inmates, and
willingness to adopt the New Faith[439]. In the north one finds none of
this. The reports concerning the monasteries there are of a very
different sort: immorality and unnatural crimes are the principal
charges against the inmates[440]. There is scarcely a record of
apostasy; scarcely a case of mutual accusation among the monks. The
abbots and their subordinates almost invariably supported each other,
and their loyalty to the Old Faith and their hatred of those who tried
to disestablish it, gave the Commissioners a far harder task in the
north than in the south. There is also reason to think that Cromwell’s
spy system operated less perfectly there, partly owing to this spirit of
conservatism and love of the old usages permeating every sort and
condition of life, and partly owing to the great spaces of wild,
uninhabited land.
This is only the religious side. But there were other almost equally
valid reasons for the localization of the revolt in the north. The south
was thickly populated, and to a certain extent commercial; the north
sparsely populated, and for the most part pastoral and agricultural.
Cromwell had done everything that he could to facilitate trade, and his
efforts in this direction had been rewarded by comparative popularity in
the commercial counties. The discontent in the agricultural north,
however, was most pronounced. The Statute of Uses had not been in all
cases correctly interpreted. It was said that the King made such laws
that when a man died his wife and children had to go a-begging[441].
Lastly, the proximity of the Scottish Borders, which were in a continual
state of disorder, offered great encouragement for undertaking a
rebellion in the north. Cromwell was constantly occupied with the
suppression of minor disturbances there[442], owing to the very lax
administration of the Courts and Wardens of the three Marches, while
across the Tweed an attitude of more or less active hostility to the
English government was always maintained. There was every probability
that a revolt in the northern counties of the realm would receive
substantial aid from Scotland.
But though the Pilgrimage of Grace was locally restricted to the
northern counties, it embraced all classes, animated by the most varied
interests[443]. The objects of the insurgents were secular and
religious, their mottoes conservative and progressive. On their banners
were borne the emblems of the five wounds of Christ, a chalice and a
host, a plough, and a horn. The first of these symbols indicated that
the insurrection had been undertaken for the defence of the faith; the
second was to remind the commons of the spoils of the Church. The plough
was to encourage the husbandmen, and ‘the horn was in token of
Horncastle’: for the banner ‘was brought among the rebels by the commons
of Horncastle[444].’ The watchwords of the rebels were of the very most
diverse nature. Some of them cried out for the restoration of the
suppressed monasteries; others for the renewal of guarantees against
exorbitant taxation, for remedies for the agrarian discontent, or for
legal permission to leave land by will to daughters and younger sons.
All of them united in demanding the destruction of Cromwell, whom the
people regarded as the cause of all their woes[445]. The leaders and
participants in the revolt were not of any one rank or station in life;
the popular and aristocratic elements were almost equally mixed. It is
no wonder that a rising, supported by men of such various classes,
which aimed at the extirpation of abuses of so many different sorts, and
which yet was united by the feeling that all these abuses were due to
one man alone, was regarded as ‘the daungerest insurrection that haith
ben seen[446].’
On September 29, 1536, when the Commissioners for the suppression of the
monasteries came to Hexham in Northumberland, they were rudely surprised
by finding the house there fortified, and prepared to defend itself to
the last. The Commissioners left the town and reported the affair to the
King, who ordered them to assemble all the forces they could muster, and
if the monastery did not yield, to treat the monks like arrant
traitors[447]. But scarcely was this danger past when news came that the
Commissioners for levying the lay subsidy, the collection of which was
superintended by Cromwell, had met with a similar experience at Caistor
in Lincolnshire. It seems they had feared some disturbance at their
arrival, and had invited several country gentlemen to join them in case
of any danger. A large force had meantime assembled to resist the
payment of the subsidy. The country gentlemen were pursued, taken, and
forced to write to Lord Hussey at Sleaford, to summon him to join the
rebel commons, unless he wished to be treated as an enemy, and also to
send to the King to seek a general pardon[448]. Hussey promptly reported
the state of affairs to Cromwell, and though he put a bold face on the
matter in presence of the rebels, it is evident that he was seriously
alarmed[449]. The King meantime himself received the letter the captured
gentlemen had been forced to send him, caused the bearers of it to
reveal the names of the ringleaders, and wrote to the Commissioners for
levying the subsidy, expressing his distress at the ‘vnnatural
vnkyndness’ of his subjects, and marvelling ‘that he that is worth xx li
sholde rebell for the payment of x s[450].’ But this sort of letter of
mild surprise, with which Henry had sometimes successfully warded off
pressing danger, did not prove to be sufficient in this case. He was
relieved from any apprehension on his own account; the rebels had
expressly denied any desire to be disloyal to the King: they only wished
that the Church of England should have its old privileges, ‘without any
exaction,’ that the suppressed houses of religion be restored, and that
they should not be taxed, except for defence of the realm in time of
war. Again and again did they repeat their demands for the surrender or
banishment of Cromwell, Audley, Cranmer, Riche, and others of the Privy
Council. That the King did not throw over his ministers in their hour of
need, surely shows that Henry was committed to them and to their policy,
and believed in it.
The situation was certainly alarming. It was very fortunate that at the
time of the outbreak the position of the King was otherwise so strong,
and England’s foreign affairs in such good condition, that every effort
could be centred on the suppression of the revolt. The insurgents
evidently meant business. Sir Christopher Ascugh, gentleman usher to the
King, wrote to Cromwell, October 6, ‘The rebels ar in nombre of men of
armys well harnesyd x or xii m spars and bows; & xxx m other sum
harnesyd and sum not harnesyd ... and all the contrey Rysys holly as
they goo before them.... Mellessent your s_er_u_au_nt they have hanged &
Baytyd Bellowe to deth wyth Dogg_es_ wyth a bull skyn vpon his bake wyth
many Regorous word_es_ agaynst your lordeshepp[451].’ Letters were sent
to the principal men in the county, asking them to use all their efforts
to check the revolt, and the King later declared his intention to take
the field himself[452]. Cromwell’s nephew Richard[453] got all the
arrows and implements of war out of the Tower, and dispatched a number
of men to Lincolnshire, among them sixty or eighty masons and
carpenters, who were at work on his uncle’s house. Cromwell himself was
in great fear. The Imperial ambassador informs us[454] that the whole
blame for the insurrection was laid on him. Norfolk was recalled to the
Court, whence he had been banished at Cromwell’s suggestion, and the
Duke arrived at London, happy as he had never been before in the thought
that the first step towards the ruin of his rival had been taken. But in
this he was doomed to disappointment, for Cromwell retained his
ascendancy; the King, according to Chapuys, had been very reluctant to
send for the Duke, and when the latter was dispatched again to raise men
and prevent the spreading of the revolt, he was overtaken by a most
‘discomfortable’ message from the Court, ordering him to send his son in
his place while he himself remained at home[455]. Cromwell had not only
succeeded in getting him away from the Court, but had also prevented his
having a hand in the suppression of the rebellion. The Lord Privy Seal
himself was content with maintaining his position at the King’s side. It
would have been sheer madness for him to have marched against the rebels
in person. If the Lincolnshire men could have murdered him, they
probably would have been induced to return quietly to their homes. Nor
did Cromwell even dare to give orders at arm’s length, or in any way to
undertake the management of the royal forces. He kept himself
consistently in the background; almost all our information concerning
the rebellion is contained in the correspondence of the King with
Norfolk and Suffolk. The few letters which Cromwell did write in
connexion with the Pilgrimage of Grace are quite unimportant[456]. They
consist for the most part of messages of profuse and almost hysterical
thanks to the leaders of the King’s party for their loyal service. It
was not until the revolt had been thoroughly suppressed that Cromwell
ventured again to assume the general direction of public affairs.
Meantime the Duke of Suffolk and the Earl of Shrewsbury had been sent
against the rebels, who were waiting in Lincolnshire for the King’s
answer to their first letter. Richard Cromwell had found great
difficulty in conveying to the scene the arms and artillery he had got
out of the Tower, because the people were at first unwilling to furnish
the requisite number of horses, owing to sympathy with the insurgents,
if one may believe the report of Chapuys’ nephew[457]. Finally, however,
he succeeded in overtaking the Duke of Suffolk, who was marching with an
army against the rebels from the south, at Stamford on October 10. The
Earl of Shrewsbury, according to the King’s orders, was advancing at the
same time from Nottingham. Caught between two armies supplied with the
ordnance which the insurgents so much dreaded, the Lincolnshire men,
further frightened by a proclamation from the Earl of Shrewsbury
transmitted to them by one Thomas Miller, Lancaster Herald, began to
lose heart and finally consented to surrender, on condition that they
should receive assurance of merciful treatment. The King was pleased,
ordered the rebels to deliver up their arms, and commanded Shrewsbury
and Suffolk to examine the country gentlemen who had aided them, and
report to him[458]. He further wrote an answer to the insurgents,
calling them the ‘rude commons of one shire, and that one of the most
brute and beestelie of the hole realme[459],’ expatiating on the trouble
he had given himself in their defence, and assuring them that they had
no grounds to complain of any of the new measures, either secular or
religious. He was just thinking that the worst part of the danger was
over, when suddenly news came from Lord Darcy, who was the chief person
in the north, that all Yorkshire had risen in a similar way[460].
The news of this outbreak was even more disquieting than that of the
first. Besides being much further from London, where the King’s armies
could only reach them with great difficulty, the Yorkshire rebels were
nearer the lawless and hostile Scottish borders. They had from the very
first been in sympathy with their neighbours in the south, and had
communicated with them by means of beacons burned on the banks of the
Humber[461]. The same motives had prompted them to rise in arms. They
elected as captain a young barrister named Aske, who issued a
proclamation for all men to assemble on Skipworth Moor, and take oath to
be faithful to the King’s issue and noble blood, to preserve the Church
from spoil, and be true to the commonwealth--a clever euphemism for
demanding the death of Cromwell and his adherents. The Yorkshiremen had
gone about their revolt with far more method and system than the
Lincolnshire rebels. The latter had been easily conquered, mainly
because they lacked a head; but the Yorkshiremen promised to give far
more trouble. They made musters by scrolls and bills nailed to the door
of every church in the county, and proclaimed that any one who refused
to take their oaths and rise with them should be put to death, whether
he was lord or peasant. It was even rumoured that they intended to send
an embassy to Flanders, to ask for aid in money and armed men, and to
petition the Pope for absolution for all offences committed in the
course of their holy pilgrimage[462].
The King replied at once to Darcy’s letter, commanding him to arrest all
seditious persons, and promising so to treat the originators of the
revolt in Lincolnshire that all York should soon learn that they had got
their deserts[463]. Darcy wrote to the Lord Mayor of York, warning him
to be prepared to resist the insurgents, while he himself proceeded to
Pomfret Castle to hold it against the rebels, and there awaited further
instructions from the King[464]. He succeeded in maintaining his
position at Pomfret for only ten days however, for on October 20 he
surrendered the town to the rebel army under the leadership of Aske, and
together with the Archbishop of York, who had sought refuge there, swore
to take part with the insurgents[465]. At his trial in the following
year he pleaded that he was unable to hold out any longer because the
provisions had run short, and further stated that he had been compelled
to side with the rebels under pain of death. He also alleged as an
excuse for his conduct that he thought that if he got in touch with the
insurgents, he could the more easily induce them to lay down their arms.
How loyal he really was to the King must remain a matter of conjecture,
but there is strong reason to think that he had much sympathy with the
revolt[466].
For a time the rebels seemed to carry all before them. Shrewsbury had
been ordered to go to Yorkshire and engage the insurgents there, now
that Lincolnshire was regarded as safe. Meantime Thomas Miller,
Lancaster Herald, who had been so successful in obtaining the submission
of the Lincolnshire men, was sent by the King from Scrooby, on October
21, to read a royal proclamation to the rebels at Pomfret, upbraiding
them for their conduct, but promising them pardon on condition that they
should immediately disperse. When he arrived at his destination the town
had been surrendered. Aske, although he treated the royal envoy with all
due respect, entirely refused to let him read his proclamation in
public, and sent him away with two crowns and his errand
unaccomplished[467].
Meantime the Duke of Norfolk, who two weeks before had returned sadly to
Kenninghall with all his hopes of regaining the royal favour blighted,
had been hurried to and fro in the south of England by a continued
stream of conflicting orders from Cromwell and the King, until he
finally heard of the disturbances in Yorkshire from Shrewsbury[468]. He
immediately turned his steps with a small company of men towards
Doncaster, in the hope of regaining the King’s favour by a prompt
suppression of the new outbreak. So anxious was he to recommend himself
to Henry, that he spent £1,500 of his own in paying the wages of the
King’s soldiers; and when this was not sufficient, and Henry refused to
advance any money, he asked for a loan to meet the expenses, and took
the responsibility for its payment upon himself[469]. Norfolk’s whole
proceeding in this crisis was eminently characteristic. He never
hesitated to spend money or to tell lies, if he thought that by so doing
there was any possibility of gaining the royal favour. He assured the
King that, in treating with rebels, he would pay no respect to what
others might call his ‘honour distayned,’ for he considered it perfectly
permissible to break promises in order to serve the Crown[470]. Henry,
it would seem, did not take Norfolk’s treacherous proposals to sacrifice
his own honour in the royal service in as good part as the Duke had
hoped, and wrote back hinting that if Norfolk made promises to the
rebels that he could not keep, he must make them on his own
responsibility, and take great care that the King’s name remained
unsullied.
When the Duke arrived in the rebel country he issued a proclamation to
the insurgents, commanding them in proud and haughty terms to submit,
and promising to be an intercessor for them with the King. This was on
October 27. But the very next day he wrote to Henry that he had been
forced to declare to the insurgents the royal pardon, in order to
‘sparple’ them, and get them to return to their homes[471]. It is
evident that in the meantime a meeting must have taken place between the
Duke and the rebels, in which the latter succeeded in convincing their
enemy that they, and not he, were in the position to dictate terms. A
general truce was arranged, and Lord Darcy was ordered to cease to
molest the insurgents[472]. The dread with which Norfolk awaited his
first interview with the King is vividly described in the letter in
which he announced to the Council his prospective return to the Court.
‘I come,’ wrote the Duke, ‘w_i_t_h_ my hert nere bresten ... inforced to
appoynt with the rebell_es_ ... and fearing how his maieste shall take
the dispeachyng of our bande[473].’
Norfolk finally arrived at Windsor with two emissaries from the
insurgents, who were to report their grievances and receive the King’s
answer. Henry was just composing his reply when news came that Aske had
attempted to stir up the rebels in the other northern counties. Norfolk
wrote to Darcy that the King suspected him of treachery in delivering up
Pomfret to Aske, and advised him to do his best to ‘extinct the ill
bruit,’ by taking the rebel leader dead or alive[474]. Meantime the King
detained Ellerker and Bowes, the two rebel envoys, as hostages, while
Darcy attempted to allay any fears of a third outbreak. The King in fact
was so seriously alarmed at the danger in the north, that he dreaded
that his letter to the Lincolnshire men in early October might not prove
sufficient to prevent their joining a new revolt, if such occurred. So
seeing their ‘maner, implieng a great repentance,’ and contrasting it
with the rebellious attitude of the Yorkshiremen, he sent them on the
14th of November a full pardon[475]. Meantime the report of the
probability of a fresh insurrection passed by, and Ellerker and Bowes
returned with the King’s answer, with which Henry had taken much
trouble, and had endeavoured to disguise the fact that he was really
suing for peace, by promising to pardon those who were truly penitent. A
conference for discussion of terms was arranged to assemble at Doncaster
on the 5th of December, in which Lords Scrope, Latimer, Lumley, Darcy,
and others were to represent the rebels, and Norfolk, Suffolk,
Shrewsbury, Rutland, and their subordinates the King[476].
Henry laid his plans carefully in preparation for this meeting. He
instructed Shrewsbury to do his utmost to prevail upon Aske and Darcy to
betray the rebels, upon promise of a free pardon for themselves. He also
ordered the Duke of Suffolk to hold himself in readiness with a large
force in case of another outbreak[477]. There was probably far less
danger that the truce would be broken by the rebels than by the King;
but the former certainly had no intention of returning to their homes
without at least an assurance of a general amnesty. Henry soon realized
that they were in earnest, and reluctantly instructed Suffolk, in a
second letter, to yield to their demands for a free pardon and a
Parliament as a last resort, if all other expedients to induce them to
disperse should fail[478]. The conference at Doncaster lasted four
days, but in the end the rebels were successful in gaining their wishes,
and the desired pardon was proclaimed on the 9th of December[479]. Henry
had never before been forced to acknowledge such a complete check at the
hands of his subjects, and the sensations of the proud King must have
been as disagreeable as they were novel. Still it was impossible for him
to give vent to his rage until he had once more obtained the upper hand.
So he wrote to Aske requesting an interview with him in London. The tone
of the letter is noteworthy. Though evidently beaten, Henry spoke as if
he were master of the situation, and began by stating that he had
learned that Aske was sorry for his offences in the late rebellion. The
King also did his utmost to stop any rumours on the Continent which
might give the impression that the rebels had come off victorious. He
instructed Cromwell to write a full account of the revolt to Gardiner
and Wallop at the French Court, ordering them to tell all people that
though at first the insurgents ‘made petic_i_on to haue obteyned certain
articles, ... in thende they went from all and remytted all to the
king_es_ highnes pleasure only in moost humble and reuerent sorte
desiring their p_ar_don, w_i_t_h_ the greatest repentance that could be
deuised[480].’ But Henry was a little premature with his boasts that
peace had been concluded on terms so favourable to himself. Aske indeed
came up to London, had what certainly appeared to be a most successful
interview with the King, and returned to the North, January 5, 1537, to
confirm the royal pardon, and to promise that all reasonable petitions
should be heard by Parliament[481]. But the other rebels did not seem by
any means as sure of Henry’s good faith. Aske wrote to the King a letter
containing six ‘marvilus congectures’ of the people, among which were
the dread with which they regarded the fortifying of strongholds, and
their distrust that Cromwell and his adherents were as high in favour as
ever[482]. Henry of course paid no attention to these complaints, with
the result that many of the insurgents, who ‘saw plainly,’ as the Court
historian writes, ‘that the King did constantly follow the reformation
of the abominable Church ... incontinently renewed the old practice of
rebelling again[483].’ A plan was evolved by Sir Francis Bigod and a
certain John Hallam, to attack and take both Hull and Scarborough: the
whole country was ready to rise again, and they anticipated an easy
victory[484]. But the success of this last outbreak was very
short-lived. The attempt which Hallam made against Hull failed, owing to
the fact that the plot had been reported to the mayor there, and Hallam
himself was captured[485]. At Scarborough Bigod was scarcely more
fortunate. He had succeeded in calling out the people of the East
Riding, and had harangued them; ‘Ye are deceaued by a colo_ur_ of a
pardon,’ he said, ‘for it is called a pardon that ye haue, and it is
none But a p_ro_clamacion.’ The commons responded to his words with a
great shout, and he marched off with a large following to repair his
comrade’s disaster at Hull, leaving the son of Lord Lumley with a
handful of men to attack Scarborough[486]. But Lumley deserted his post,
abandoning the command to two subordinates, who attempted to lay siege
to the castle of Scarborough in the absence of its keeper, Sir Ralph
Evers; the latter, however, soon returned, and they gave up the
enterprise, only to be captured and imprisoned. Bigod’s second attempt
on Hull had meantime also failed, and Bigod himself fled[487].
Meantime the Duke of Norfolk had returned into the north, no longer as a
peace commissioner, but as a messenger of death and destruction[488].
Now that the tide of affairs had turned and the rebels were weakened,
the King thought it at last safe to inflict the long-deferred punishment
on the leaders of the revolt. It is true that Norfolk was accompanied by
a few persons, who together with certain gentlemen in the north were to
compose a council to aid him in carrying out a general pacification:
this arrangement, however, was obviously temporary, and it was soon to
be replaced by a more stable form of government. The true mission of
the Duke was to do ‘dreadful execution.’ Before a permanent
reorganization of the north could be attempted, it was absolutely
essential that the chief rebels should be dealt with in such a way as
would deter others from attempting a fresh insurrection. The situation
demanded severity, and there can be no doubt that the inclination of the
King tallied closely with the dictates of political expediency. Norfolk
justified to the full the confidence that Henry reposed in his
ruthlessness. He reported that he thought that so great a number had
never before been put to death at one time, and confessed that had he
proceeded by jury, not one in five would have suffered[489]. All the
rebel leaders were taken and sent up to London, and by the end of July,
1537, Aske, Darcy, Hussey, Bigod, and many others had been condemned to
death as traitors. Darcy at his mock trial had dared to tell Cromwell:
‘It is thow that art the verey originall and chif causer of all thies
rebellyon and myschif ... and dust ernestly travell to bring vs to owr
end and to strik of our hedd_es_ and I trust that ... thought thow
woldest procure all the nobell mens hedd_es_ within the Realme to be
striken of, yet shall ther one hedde remayn that shall strike of thy
hede[490].’ But the Lord Privy Seal was still in too secure a position
to be harmed by any such words as these. He seemed in higher favour than
ever. If Norfolk had entertained the notion that he had begun to
supplant his rival in the royal favour, when the King chose him rather
than Cromwell to carry out the ‘dreadful execution,’ he was again doomed
to disappointment. The reason why the King had not been willing to
employ his favourite instrument of destruction in this case, lay for the
most part in the fact that he needed his aid in a far more important
task, to which Norfolk’s proceedings were merely a necessary
preliminary. For the moment had now arrived for the long-contemplated
reform of the government of the north, a matter in which the Duke vainly
attempted to give advice. His proffered counsel was consistently
rejected: in dealing with this problem the King preferred to consult
Cromwell.
The Border Counties of England had never been governed like the rest of
the kingdom[491]. The institution of the three Scottish Marches, which
at first included the greater part of Northumberland and Cumberland,
took its rise as early as the middle of the thirteenth century. Each of
these three Marches was placed in charge of a Warden, who, aided by a
special court, exercised general authority, judicial, military, and
administrative, according to his commission. There appears also at a
very early date a kind of informal conference or Council of the Marches,
composed of the ordinary March authorities, sitting in conjunction with
local magnates. When the war with Scotland broke out at the end of the
thirteenth century, the King attempted through the Privy Council to
increase his personal influence in the north. He did not disturb the
existing organization however. By special commissions he strengthened
the power of the Wardens, and later gave the government of the Marches a
definite head in an officer called the Lieutenant of the North, who
represented the King’s interest, and derived his authority from the
Crown and Council and not from Parliament. The Border Counties were thus
placed under a special jurisdiction and outside the ordinary
administration of the kingdom. The tendency of the Privy Council to
mingle in the affairs of the north increased during the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, and (as a result of the strained relations between
England and Scotland in the early part of the reign of Henry VIII.)
reached its culmination under Wolsey. The Lieutenant’s control had
meantime been extended southward into Yorkshire.
It may perhaps seem strange that the Tudors, with their special genius
for centralization and conciliar government, had not yet succeeded in
rendering the condition of the north more satisfactory, when its
administration lay so completely in their own hands. But the
ever-threatening danger of a raid from the Scots, coupled with the
bitter feuds of the local baronage, tended so far to disorganize the
region that the problem of the north had remained unsolved. The attempt
of Wolsey to reform the government of the Border Counties had consisted
in a thorough rehabilitation of the old Council of the Marches. He
replaced the ill-defined, loosely-constructed body which had hitherto
done service by a secret, permanent organization, composed principally
of northern gentlemen, but still entirely dependent on the Privy
Council. His reluctance to grant the local organ a sufficient degree of
autonomy was the cause of the failure of his plan. The renovated Council
of the Marches was forced to confess itself incompetent to deal with
even the simplest problems which presented themselves for solution, and
the old unsatisfactory state of affairs continued with little change,
until after the Pilgrimage of Grace.
The problem of the reorganization of the north was now vigorously
attacked by Henry and Cromwell during the absence of Norfolk. The
question which presented itself after the suppression of the revolt was
whether it would be better to create an entirely new form of government
for the north, or to reconstruct, readapt, and strengthen the old. The
principle of control by a permanent local council, first definitely
established by Wolsey, was essentially characteristic of the Tudor
policy, and Henry and Cromwell saw no reason to depart from it. It had
been one of the chief sources of the strength of their rule, that though
they never shrank from any change, however radical, which the demands of
a royal despotism in Church and State rendered necessary, they carefully
avoided any gratuitous innovations which they knew would be unwelcome to
the people at large. An entirely fresh organization of the north would
have been exceedingly unpopular, especially in that most conservative
portion of England: it was far less obnoxious, and equally effective, to
infuse new life into the old régime, by granting the Council of the
Marches a sufficient degree of independence, and above all by changing
its composition. The problem was in many respects similar to that with
which Cromwell had been confronted in connexion with the election of
bishops. No radical innovation was needed in either case; the _status
quo_, when fortified by official sanction, was perfectly satisfactory,
save for a few trifling readaptations. It was on this basis accordingly,
that Henry and Cromwell resolved to reconstruct the government of the
Border Counties. The old forms were retained though under different
names. The jurisdiction of the Council of the North (merely a new
version of the old Council of the Marches) was extended so as to include
the counties of Northumberland, Cumberland, Westmoreland, York, and
Durham. It was given wider competence in general administration, and its
judicial authority in certain cases was so strengthened as to exclude
that of the ordinary courts in the districts in which it exercised its
functions[492].
Far more interesting for our purpose than the jurisdiction of the
newly-organized Council, is its composition, especially as revealing the
identity of its originator. It seems that the new body was largely
composed of men of low birth, a certain indication that Cromwell’s was
the guiding hand in its organization[493]. The ‘base-born knave’ at
whose feet England lay had succeeded in proving to the King, that he and
others of humble origin had as much power and willingness to serve the
Crown as any nobleman in the land. Moreover the personal character of
many of the members of the new Council was not above reproach, and
though this fact does not seem to have disturbed the King, a bitter
protest was evoked from Cromwell’s rival, the Duke of Norfolk, who, from
his isolated position in the north, had watched with increasing
impatience the success of the Lord Privy Seal in maintaining his
influence at Court, and in organizing a body obviously intended to
supplant the temporary council composed in the previous January.
Norfolk’s anxiety to recommend himself to the King had alone induced him
to take upon himself the task of punishing the revolt; now that he
discovered that with all his subserviency Cromwell had again stepped
into the place which he had coveted for himself, his enthusiasm for
executing rebels gave place to petitions to be permitted to return to
Court. But Cromwell was strong enough to keep him in the north till
September, and the Duke was forced to content himself with writing
letters to the King and Council, to complain of the new arrangements for
the government of the Borders which had been made in his absence[494].
He and Cromwell came into collision here, just as they had done before
over Irish affairs: each had his own idea as to the best method of
government in both cases, and the antagonism of the two men was the
sharper in that each knew that his favour with the King depended on the
success of his plan of administration. The Duke from the very first was
convinced that ‘the wylde peple of all the Marches wolde not be kept in
order vnles one of good estimacion and nobilitie have the ordering
therof,’ while Cromwell and the Council asserted that the King had
already been ill served on the Borders ‘by _th_e reason of controversy &
variaunce depending between _th_e great men _tha_t ly upon _th_e same’;
but, they continued, ‘if it shal please his M_ajesty_ to appoynt _th_e
meanest man ... to rule & govern in _tha_t place; is not his Graces
aucthoritie sufficient to cause al men to serve his Grace under him
w_i_thout respect of _th_e very estate of _th_e personage?[495]’ The
dispute on this point began in early February, when Norfolk wrote to
protest against certain names in a list of officers for the north which
the Privy Council had sent him. ‘More arraunt thev_es_ and murderers be
not in no Realme,’ asserted the Duke, ‘then they haue of Long tyme been
and yet ar ... and the same shall not only cause Light p_er_soun_es_ to
saye and beleve that the King_es_ Highnes is fayne to Hire with Fees the
moost malefactors ‹in order› to syt in rest, but also not to Loke vppon
theire most detestable offenc_es_[496].’ An animated correspondence on
this topic continued for several months, the dispute finally centering
about the Presidency of the new Council and the Wardenships of the three
Marches; Norfolk insisted that only noblemen were fitted to hold these
offices[497]. In May the discussion was finally closed by the King, who
had steadily supported the position adopted by Cromwell and the Council.
Henry now took the matter into his own hands, and sent a peremptory
letter to the Duke. ‘We doo accept in good p_ar_te,’ wrote the King,
‘the declarac_i_on of yo_ur_ opinion for the March_es_. Neuertheles we
doubt not but you woll both conforme yo_ur_ owne mynde to fynde out the
good order whiche we haue therin determyned and cause other by your good
meane to p_er_ceyve the same. For surely we woll not be bounde of a
necessitie to be s_er_ued there with lord_es_, But we wolbe s_er_ued
with such men what degre soeuer they be of as we shall appointe to the
same[498].’ The Presidency of the Council was finally conferred on
Cuthbert Tunstall, Bishop of Durham. The death of the Earl of
Northumberland in June, 1537, served as a convenient pretext for the
suppression of the Lord Wardenship of the East and Middle Marches, which
that nobleman had previously enjoyed; and the Earl of Cumberland, who
had hitherto held a similar office on the West Marches, was not
permitted long to retain it. Three Deputy Wardens, Sir William Evers,
Sir John Witherington, and Sir Thomas Wharton, were appointed in their
places by the King and Cromwell[499]; the three March Courts were
revived, and exercised concurrent jurisdiction with the new
Council[500], which was also composed as Henry and his minister had
originally planned it[499]. In every point the advice of Cromwell had
been taken in preference to that of Norfolk, and when the Duke finally
obtained leave to return to Court in September, it must have been with
the feeling that he had again suffered defeat at the hands of his
plebeian rival. The rebellion, which eleven months before had threatened
to hurl Cromwell from his place, had been completely quelled, and the
country had been again reduced to internal quiet. The danger while it
lasted had indeed been pressing, but so firmly had Cromwell been
established as the King’s chief minister by the events of the years 1530
to 1536, that the storm passed over him and left him scathless. The
failure of the Pilgrimage of Grace and the process of reconstruction
which followed it, bore witness to the thoroughness with which he had
carried out his main aim in internal government, and to the security of
the position to which he had elevated himself by his temporary success
in establishing a royal despotism.