“A man from Wolsingham is committed to prison for theft. He escapes, and seeks refuge in the Cathedral. He takes his stand before the shrine of St. Cuthbert, and begs for a coroner. John Rachet, the coroner of Chester ward, goes to him, and hears his confession. The culprit, in the presence of the sacrist, sheriff, under-sheriff, and others, by a solemn oath renounces the kingdom. He then strips himself to his shirt, and gives up his clothing to the sacrist as his fee. The sacrist restores the clothing—a white cross of wood is put into his hand, and he is consigned to the under-sheriff, who commits him to the care of the nearest constable, who hands him over to the next, and he to the next, in the direction of the coast. The last constable puts him into a ship, and he bids an eternal farewell to his country.”
There were usually chambers over the porches of churches, in which two men slept, for the purpose of being ready at all hours to admit applicants. In proof of the expense attending the maintaining of persons in the sanctuary, it is said that “in 1491, the burgesses in parliament acquainted the assembly that they had been at great expense in getting an ordinance of parliament to authorize them in a quiet way to take one John Estgate out of sanctuary, the said John having entered the churchyard of St. Simon and St. Jude, and there remained for a long time past, during which time, the city being compelled to keep watch on him day and night, lest he should escape, was at great charge and trouble. The ordinance being passed, John Pynchamour, one of the burgessess, went to the sanctuary and asked John Estgate whether he would come out and submit to the law, or no; and upon his answering he ‘would not,’ he in a quiet manner went to him, led him to the Guildhall, and committed him to prison.”
Another entry of an event that transpired during the troubled reign of Henry III., bears reference to the memorable disputes between the citizens and the monks of the priory, of which the Ethelbert gateway, leading into the Cathedral Close, is a monument; the citizens having had the penance of erecting it, imposed upon them for their destructive attacks upon the monastery, a great portion of which,
including parts of the cathedral, they pillaged and burnt. The record states that “one John Casmus was found slain on the Tuesday next after the feast of St. Laurence, by William de Brunham, prior of Norwich, at the gates of St. Trinity, on the eastern side; the said prior having struck him with a certain ‘fanchone’ on the head, from which blow he instantly died. The coroners are afraid to make inquisition, for fear of a felonious assault; a result rendered very probable by the known temper of the prior, who, by his violent conduct, is said to have contributed materially to the unhappy disturbances.”
Long-cherished bitterness and jealousies respecting their several limits of jurisdiction, had found occasion for outbreak the preceding week to that mentioned in the record, at the annual fair, held on Trinity Sunday, before the gates of the cathedral, on the ground known as Tombland, from having anciently been a burial place. The servants of the monastery, and the citizens, had come into collision at some games that were going on upon the Tuesday, and a violent conflict ensued, which lasted for a considerable time. The writers of the time are divided as to the blameable parties; the monks being accused of aiding and abetting their servants in doing wrong, and vexing the people; the citizens, in their turn, being condemned for transgressing the recognized laws which existed concerning the boundaries of the prior’s jurisdiction.
The animosities never fairly could be said to have ceased until the general destruction of all monastic power at the period of the Reformation.
One more curious extract we will make from these coroner’s rolls, remarkable as being one of the very few authentic accounts to be met with of a person being restored to life after execution.
“Walter Eye was condemned in the court of Norwich, and hung, and appeared dead, but was afterwards discovered to be alive by William, the son of Thomas Stannard; and the said Walter was carried in a coffin to the church of St. George’s, before the gate of St. Trinity, where he recovered in fifteen days, and then fled from that church to the church of the Holy Trinity, and there was, until the king upon his suit pardoned him.”
It was formerly a prevalent idea that felons could only be suspended for a certain time, but this was not really the case; so far from it, Hale’s “Pleas of the Crown” asserts, “that, in case a man condemned to die, come to life after he is hanged, as the judgment is not executed till he is dead, he ought to be hung up again.”
Another anecdote, extracted from the books of the corporation, bearing a more recent date, possesses a double interest, from being connected with a memorable disturbance, dignified in local history by the title of Gladman’s Insurrection, and also from the