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Rebel Heads on City Gates

The barbarous custom of spiking heads on city gates, and on other prominent places, may be traced back to the days of Edward I. His wise laws won for him the title of “the English Justinian,” but he does not appear to have tempered justice with mercy. In his age little value was set upon human life. His scheme of conquest included the subjugation and annexation of Scotland and Wales.

David, the brother of Llewellyn the Welsh Prince, had been on the side of the English, and at the hands of Edward had experienced kindness, but in return he showed little gratitude. In 1282 he made an unprovoked attack on Hawarden Castle. Subsequently his brother Llewellyn joined in the rising, and undertook the conduct of the war in South Wales, while David attempted to defend the North of the country. In a skirmish on the Wye, Llewellyn was slain by a single knight. David soon fell into the hands of the English, and was sent in chains to Shrewsbury. Here he was tried by Parliament, consisting of “the first national convention in which the Common had any share by legal authority, and the earliest lawful trace of a mixed assembly of Lords and Commons.” Guilty of being a traitor was the verdict returned, and David was condemned to a new and cruel mode of execution, viz., “to be dragged at a horse’s tail through the streets of Shrewsbury, and to be afterwards hung and cut down while alive, his heart and bowels burnt before his face, his body quartered and his head sent to London.” The head of Llewellyn was also to be sent to London, to be spiked on the Tower encircled with a crown of ivy.

On the gates of old London Bridge have been spiked the heads of many famous men – not a few whose brave deeds add glory to the annals of England and Scotland. The heroic deeds of Sir William Wallace have done much to increase the dignity of the history of North Britain. After rendering gallant service to his native land, he was betrayed into the hands of the English by his friend and countryman, Sir John Menteith, at Glasgow. He was conveyed to London, was tried and condemned as a rebel, and on August 23rd, 1305, suffered a horrible death, similar to the fate of David, Prince of Wales. His body was divided and sent into four parts of Scotland, and his head set up on a pole on London Bridge. Edward I. degraded himself by this cruel revenge on a patriotic man. In the following year the head of another Scotch rebel, Simon Frazer, was spiked beside that of Wallace.

In the reign of Edward II., Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, rose to almost supreme power, but his rule was most distasteful to the people. It was oppressive and ended in disaster. In 1316, when the Earl was at the height of his fame, he discovered that a knight formerly in his household had been induced by the King of England to carry to the King of Scotland a letter asking that some of his soldiers might slay him. The Earl was then at Pontefract and had the knight brought before him, and by his orders he was speedily executed, and his head spiked on the walls of the castle.

The Barons met the forces of Edward II. at Boroughbridge, in 1322, and were totally routed, and their leaders, the Earl of Hereford was slain, and the Earl of Lancaster was taken prisoner, and afterwards executed at Pontefract. About thirty knights and barons suffered death on the scaffold in various parts of the country, so that terror might be widely spread. Some of the bodies were suspended for long periods in chains, and amongst the number were those of Sir Roger de Clifford, Sir John Mowbray, and Sir Jocalyn D’Eyville. They were hanged at York, and for three years their bodies were hung in chains, and then the Friar Preachers committed them to the ground. Another rebel, Sir Bartholomew de Badlesmere, was executed at Canterbury, and his head was cut off and spiked on the city gate at Canterbury.

At Boroughbridge Sir Andrew de Harcla displayed courage of a high order, and was rewarded with the title of the Earl of Carlisle, and military duties of a more important order were entrusted to him, but he did not long enjoy his honours. The Scots advanced into this country and met the English at the Abbey of Byland, and completely overpowered them; the Earl remaining inactive at Boroughbridge with 2,000 foot and horse soldiers. On a writ dated at Knaresborough, February 27th, 1323, he was tried for treachery, his collusion with the Scotch was clearly proved, and the following sentence was passed upon him: – “To be degraded both himself and his heirs from the rank of earl, to be ungirt of his sword, his gilded spurs hacked from his heels – said to be the first example of its kind – to be hanged, drawn, and beheaded, his heart and entrails torn out and burnt to ashes, and the ashes scattered to the winds; his carcase to be divided into four quarters, one to be hung on the top of the Tower at Carlisle, another at Newcastle, the third on the bridge at York, and the fourth at Shrewsbury, while his head was to be spiked on London Bridge.” “You may divide my body as you please,” said the Earl, “but I give my soul to God.” On March 3rd, 1323, the terrible sentence was carried out.

Under the year 1397, John Timbs, in his “Curiosities of London,” records that the heads of four traitor knights were spiked on London Bridge.

On Bramham Moor, Yorkshire, on Sunday, February 19th, 1408, Sir Thomas Rokeby, high sheriff of the county, fighting for Henry IV., completely defeated an army raised by the Earl of Northumberland, and other nobles who had revolted against the king. The Earl was slain on the field, and his chief associate, Lord Bardolf, was mortally wounded and taken prisoner, but died before he could be removed from the scene of the battle. The heads of these two noblemen were cut off, and that of the Earl placed upon a hedge-stake, and carried in a mock procession through the chief towns on the route to London, and finally found a resting-place on London Bridge. He was popular amongst his friends, and they greatly grieved at his death. It was indeed a sore trial to those who had loved him well to see his mutilated head, full of silver hairs, carried through the streets of London, a gruesome exhibition for a heartless public. The head of Lord Bardolf was also spiked on London Bridge.

Some passages in the life of Eleanor Cobham, first mistress and afterwards wife of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, furnish an insight into the superstitions of the period. She was tried in 1441 for treason and witchcraft. The chief charge against her was that she and her accomplices had made a waxen image of the reigning monarch, Henry VI., and placed it before a slow fire, believing that as the wax melted the king’s life would waste away. She was found guilty and had to do public penance in the streets of London, and was imprisoned for life in the Isle of Man. Three persons who had assisted her crimes suffered death. One Margaret Jourdain, of Eye, near Westminster, was burned in Smithfield. Southwell, a priest, died before execution in the Tower, and Sir Roger Bolinbroke, a priest, and reputed necromancer, was hanged, drawn and quartered at Tyburn, and his head was fixed on London Bridge. The Duchess, in the event of Henry’s death, expected that the Duke of Gloucester, as nearest heir of the house of Lancaster, would be crowned king.

The details of Jack Cade’s insurrection are well-known, and perhaps a copy of an inscription on a roadside monument at Heathfield, near Cuckfield in Sussex, will answer our present purpose: —

Near this spot was slain the notorious rebel

JACK CADE,

By Alexander Iden, Sheriff of Kent, A.D. 1450

His body was carried to London, and his head fixed on London Bridge

This is the success of all rebels, and this fortune chanceth even to traitors

Hall’s Chronicle

In 1496 two heads were placed on London Bridge; one was Flammock’s, a lawyer, and the other that of a farmer’s who had suffered death at Tyburn, for taking a leading part in a great Cornish insurrection.

John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, was tried, and executed on June 22nd, 1535, nominally for high treason, but, as a matter of fact, because he would not be a party to the king’s actions. Shortly before his execution the Pope sent to him a Cardinal’s hat. Said the king when he heard of the honour to be conferred upon the aged prelate, who was then about seventy-seven years old, “’Fore heaven, he shall wear it on his shoulders then, for by the time it arrives he shall not have a head to place it upon.”

Fisher met his death with firmness. At five o’clock in the morning of his execution he was awakened and the time named to him. He turned over in bed saying: “Then I can have two hours more sleep, as I am not to die until nine.” Two hours later he arose, dressed himself in his best apparel, saying, this was his wedding day, when he was to be married to death, and it was befitting to appear in becoming attire. His head was severed from his body, and after the executioner had removed all the clothing, he left the corpse on the scaffold until night, when it was removed by the guard to All Hallows Churchyard, and interred in a grave dug with their halberds. It was not suffered to remain there, but was exhumed and buried in the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula in the Tower. The head was spiked on London Bridge. Hall and others record that the features became fresher and more comely every day, and were life-like. Crowds were attracted to the strange sight, which was regarded as a miracle. This annoyed the king not a little, and he gave orders for the head to be thrown into the river.

A similar offence to that of Fisher’s brought to the block a month later the head of a still greater and wiser man, Sir Thomas More. He was far in advance of his times, and his teaching is bearing fruit in our day. His head was placed on London Bridge, until his devoted daughter, Margaret Roper, bribed a man to move it, and drop it into a boat in which she sat. She kept the sacred relic for many years, and at her death it was buried with her in a vault under St. Dunstan’s Church, Canterbury.

We learn from the annals of London Bridge, that in the year 1577, “several heads were removed from the north end of the Drawbridge to the Southwark entrance, and hence called Traitors’ Gate.”

Heads of priests and others heightened the sickening sight of the bridge. We may here remark that Paul Hentzner in his “Travels in England,” written in 1598, says in speaking of London Bridge: – “Upon this is built a tower, on whose top the heads of such as have been executed for high treason are placed on iron spikes; we counted about thirty.”

Hentzner’s curious and interesting work was reprinted at London in 1889.

Sir Christopher Wren completed Temple Bar, March 1672-3, and in 1684 the first ghastly trophy was fixed upon it. Sir Thomas Armstrong was accused of being connected with the Rye House Plot, but made his escape to Holland, and was outlawed. He, however, within a year surrendered himself, demanding to be put on his trial. Jefferies in a most brutal manner refused the request, declaring that he had nothing to do but to award death. Armstrong sued for the benefit of the law, but without avail. The judge ordered his execution “according to law,” adding, “You shall have full benefit of the law.” On June 24th, 1683, Armstrong was executed, and his head set up on Westminster Hall; his quarters were divided between Aldgate, Aldersgate, and Temple Bar, and the fourth sent to Stafford, the borough he had formerly represented in Parliament.

Sir John Friend and Sir William Perkins, on April 9th, 1696, suffered death at Tyburn for complicity in a conspiracy to assassinate William III., and on the next day their heads crowned Temple Bar. John Evelyn in his Diary wrote, “A dismal sight which many pitied.”

In May, 1716, the head of Colonel Henry Oxburg was spiked above the Bar. He had taken part in the rising of Mar.

The head of Councillor Layer was placed on the Bar in 1723, for plotting to murder King George. For more than thirty years Layer’s head looked sorrowfully down on busy Fleet Street. A stormy night at last sent it rolling into the Strand, and it is recorded it was picked up by an attorney, and taken into a neighbouring tavern, and according to Nicholls, it found a resting place under the floor. It is stated that Dr. Rawlinson “paid a large sum of money for a substitute foisted upon him as a genuine article.” He died without discovering that he had been imposed upon, and, according to his directions, the relic was placed in his right hand and buried with him.

The Rebellion of ’45 brought two more heads to Temple Bar. On July 30th, 1746, Colonel Towneley and Captain Fletcher were beheaded on Kennington Common, and on the following day their heads were elevated on the Bar. Respecting their heads Walpole wrote on August 15th, 1746, “I have been this morning to the Tower, and passed under the new heads at Temple Bar, where people made a trade of letting spying-glasses at a halfpenny a look.” The fresh heads were made the theme of poetry and prose. One of the halfpenny loyal sightseers penned the following doggerel: —

 
“Three heads here I spy,
Which the glass did draw nigh,
The better to have a good sight;
Triangle they are placed,
And bald and barefaced;
Not one of them e’er was upright.”
 

We reproduce a curious print published in 1746 representing “Temple Bar” with three heads raised on tall poles or iron rods. The devil looks down in triumph and waves the rebel banner, on which are three crowns and a coffin, with the motto, ‘A crown or a grave.’ Underneath was written some wretched verses.

 
“Observe the banner which would all enslave,
Which ruined traytors did so proudly wave,
The devil seems the project to despise;
A fiend confused from off the trophy flies.
 
 
While trembling rebels at the fabrick gaze,
And dread their fate with horror and amaze,
Let Briton’s sons the emblematick view
And plainly see what to rebellion’s due.”
 

It is recorded in the “Annual Register” that on “January 20th (between two and three a.m.), 1766, a man was taken up for discharging musket bullets from a steel cross-bow at the two remaining heads upon Temple Bar. On being examined he affected a disorder in his senses, and said his reason for doing so was his strong attachment to the present Government, and that he thought it was not sufficient that a traitor should merely suffer death; that this provoked his indignation, and that it had been his constant practice for three nights past to amuse himself in the same manner. And it is much to be feared,” says the recorder of the event, “that he is a near relation to one of the unhappy sufferers.” On being searched, about fifty musket bullets were found on the man, and these were wrapped up in a paper with a motto – “Eripuit ille vitam.”

Dr. Johnson says that once being with Goldsmith in Westminster Abbey, “While we surveyed the Poets’ Corner, I said to him: —

 
‘Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur illis.’
 

(Perhaps some day our names may mix with theirs). When we got to Temple Bar he stopped me, pointed to the heads upon it, and slyly whispered: —

 
‘Forsitan et nostrum … miscebitur Istis.’”
 

One of the heads was blown down on April 1st, 1772, and the other did not remain much longer. The head of Colonel Towneley is preserved in the chapel at Townely Hall, near Burnley. It is perforated, showing that it had been thrust upon a spike. During a visit on May 21st, 1892, to Towneley Hall by the members of the Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian Society, the skull was seen, and a note on the subject appears in the Transactions of the Society.

The heads of not a few Scotchmen were spiked on the gates of Carlisle, and some romantic stories have come down to us respecting them. One of these we related in our “Bygone England,” and to make this account more complete we may perhaps be permitted to reproduce it. “A young and beautiful lady,” so runs the tale, “came every morning at sunrise, and every evening at sunset, to look at the head of a comely youth with long yellow hair, till at length the lady and the laddie’s head disappeared.” The incident is the subject of a song, in which the lovesick damsel bewails the fate of her lover. Here are two of the verses: —

 
“White was the rose in my lover’s hat
As he rowled me in his lowland plaidie;
His heart was true as death in love,
His head was aye in battle ready.
 
 
His long, long hair, in yellow hanks,
Wav’d o’er his cheeks sae sweet and ruddy;
But now it waves o’er Carlisle yetts
In dripping ringlets, soil’d and bloody.”
 

Many persons in Hull supported the lost cause of Henry VI., but the governing authorities of the town gave their support to Edward IV., and those that were on the side of the fallen king met with little mercy at the hands of the local Aldermen. Mr. T. Tindall Wildridge, who has done so much to bring to light hidden facts in the history of Hull, tells us that the Aldermen in 1461 agreed that the head of Nicholas Bradshawe, for his violent language, be set at the Beverley Gate – the gate that was at a later period closed against Charles I., when he desired to enter Hull.

A number of the inhabitants who would not renounce their allegiance to the House of Lancaster were ordered to leave the town on pain of death. “Among these outcasts,” says Mr. Wildridge, “was a women, who, coming back again, was subjected to the indignity of the thewes (tumbrel or hand-barrow, in which scolds were customarily wheeled round the town previous to being ducked); she was thus led out of the Beverley Gate.”

On the walls and gates of York have been spiked many heads, and with particulars of a few of the more important we will bring to a close our gleanings on this gruesome theme, though not one without value to the student of history.

Richard Scrope, Archbishop of York, strongly opposed the accession of Henry IV., and warmly advocated the claims of the Earl of March. A conspiracy against the king cost him and others their lives. It is recorded that the king directed Chief Justice Gascoigne to condemn the Archbishop to death. As might be expected from an upright judge who cast into prison the king’s son for contempt of court, he firmly refused to be a party to a barbarous and unjust action. Another judge was quickly found ready to obey the king’s behest, and the requisite condemnation was obtained. Scrope was beheaded on June 8th, 1405, in a field between Bishopthorpe and York. Thomas Gent, the old historian of York, gives a sympathetic account of the execution: “The poor unfortunate Archbishop was put upon a horse, about the value of forty pence, with a halter about its neck, but without a saddle on its back. The Archbishop gave thanks to God, saying, ‘I never liked a horse better than I like this!’ He twice sang the Psalm Exaudi, being habited in a sky-coloured loose garment, with sleeves of the same colour, but they would not permit him to wear the linen vesture used by bishops. At the fatal place of execution he laid his hood and tunic on the ground, offered himself and his cause to Heaven, and desired the executioner to give him five strokes, in token of the five wounds of our Saviour, which was done accordingly.” This is the first instance of an English prelate being executed by the civil power. Lord Mowbray, Earl Marshal of England, Sir William Plumpton and others who were mixed up in the conspiracy were beheaded. The heads of the Archbishop and that of Mowbray were spiked and put up on the city walls.

On the last day in the year 1460 was fought the battle of Wakefield, which ended in a victory for the house of Lancaster. Richard, Duke of York, the aspirant to the throne, and many of his loyal supporters were slain, some so severely wounded as to die shortly afterwards, and others taken prisoners to be subsequently beheaded. The Duke’s head was cut from his body, encircled by a mock diadem of paper, and spiked above Micklegate Bar, York, with the face turned to the city: —

 
“So York may overlook the town of York.”
 

The head of the young Earl of Rutland, murdered by Lord Clifford, was also set up at York. The headless bodies of the unfortunate pair were quietly buried at Pontefract.

The heads of the following Yorkists were also set up at York “for a spectacle to the people and also as a terror to adversaries:” – The Earl of Salisbury, Sir Edward Bouchier, Sir Richard Limbricke, Sir Thomas Harrington of London, Sir Thomas Neville, Sir William Parr, Sir Jacob Pykeryng, Sir Ralph Stanley, John Hanson, Mayor of Hull, and others.

The Lancastrians did not long enjoy their victory. Richard’s son, the Earl of March, succeeded to his father’s title and claimed the right to the English crown. On Palm Sunday, March 21st, 1461, the forces of the Red and the White Roses met at Towton-field. The battle raged during a blinding snowstorm, and the Yorkists gained a complete victory. Edward then proceeded to York and entered by Micklegate Bar. Here the saddening sight of the head of his father and other brave men who had fallen fighting for his cause were displayed, also that of his brother. He had them removed, and in their stead, to still keep up the ghastly show, were placed the heads of his foes at Towton, and amongst the number the Earl of Devonshire, Sir William Hill, the Earl of Kyme, and Sir Thomas Foulford. Shakespeare notices this act of retaliation in Henry VI. (Part III., Act II., Scene 6).

Edward had the heads of his father and his brother taken to Pontefract, placed with their bodies, and then with great pomp the remains were removed to the church at Fotheringay and there reinterred.

An attempt was made in 1569 to dethrone Elizabeth, and place in her stead Mary Queen of Scots. The leaders of the revolt were the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland. It ended in failure, and was the last trial with arms to restore the Papal power in England. The leaders for a time made their escape, but the government, with a vengeance that has seldom been equalled, cruelly punished the masses. Men were hanged at every market-cross and village-green from Wetherby to Newcastle, the large part of the north from whence the rebels had come. The Earl of Northumberland managed to evade capture for nearly two years by hiding in a wretched cottage. He was betrayed and brought to York. On August 22nd, 1572, he was beheaded, and he died, we are told, “Avowing the Pope’s supremacy, and denying subjection to the Queen, affirming the land to be in a schism, and her obedient subjects little better than heretics.” The Earl’s head was spiked above Micklegate Bar, where it remained for about a couple of years, and then it was stolen in the night by persons unknown.

After the defeat of the Jacobites at Culloden on April 16th, 1746, the Duke of Cumberland on his route to London visited York, and left behind him a number of prisoners. On November 1st, ten of the rebels were hanged, drawn, and quartered, and a week later eleven more suffered a similar fate. The head of one of the unfortunate men, that of Captain Hamilton, was sent to Carlisle. The heads of Conolly and Mayne were spiked over Micklegate Bar, York, and eight years later were stolen. A reward was offered for the detection of the offenders. The following is a copy of the notice issued: —

“York, Guildhall, Feb. 4, 1754.

“Whereas on Monday night, or Tuesday morning last, the heads of two of the rebels, which were fixed upon poles on the top of Micklegate Bar, in this City, were wilfully and designedly taken down, and carried away: If any person or persons (except the person or persons who actually took down and carried away the same) will discover the person or persons who were guilty of so unlawful and audacious an action, or anywise hiding or assisting therein, he, she, or they shall, upon the conviction of the offenders, receive a reward of Ten Pounds from the Mayor and Commonality of the City of York.

“By order of the said Mayor and said Commonality, John Raper, Common Clerk of the said City and County of the same.”

A tailor named William Arundel and an accomplice were found guilty of the crime. In addition to being fined, Arundel was committed to prison for two years.

This last act closes a long and painful chapter in our history. Many of our larger old English towns have their gruesome tales of Rebel Heads on their chief gates.