95: North Walsham battlefield
Just south of North Walsham, on the Norwich road, are three weathered stone crosses. They mark the spot where Norfolk’s Peasants’ Revolt came to a bloody end in 1381.
The revolt was in London and the South-East, wasn’t it?
One of the three
crosses
to mark
the bloody end
of
the 1381 Norfolk
Peasants' Revolt.
While Wat Tyler and the men of Kent and Essex were storming London, in Norfolk and East Anglia similar mayhem ensued. It was put down with similar ferocity thanks largely to a fighting bishop. The Norfolk peasants’ revolt is largely a tale of two men – Hugh Despencer and Geoffrey Lister.
Why were they revolting?
The traditional story of the 1381 upheaval is of a downtrodden peasantry finally standing up for themselves only to be cut down by the aristocracy. While the view that the final straw was an unfair and hated poll tax is still regarded as true, it seems that things were not quite so simple as we thought. For one thing, not all the rebels were peasants, illiterate serfs and tillers of the land. Many were part of the village ‘elite’ – craftsmen and artisans. Geoffrey Lister (or Litester) for example was described as a Norfolk dyer. Conditions had been improving for the common people since the depopulation caused by the Black Death of 1348-49. With fewer workers for hire, they could command higher wages, and move around more freely. An example of a family which benefited was the Pastons. Clement Paston was a Norfolk landworker in the late 14th century who was able to buy land and raise his family to wealth and nobility within a few generations. Feudalism was dying – but was not quite dead.
Nobody had told the aristocrats?
Many historians think the revolt was a result of frustration that things were not changing quickly enough. Although there was an element of a rudimentary socialism in renegade priest John Ball’s famous slogan “When Adam delve and Eve span, who was then the gentleman?” we don’t know what most of the rebels felt. A source of discontent was land ownership; during the revolt land deeds were a prime target of the rebels’ wrath. Attempts to restrict wages exacerbated the situation. We know little about Lister, but plenty about his nemesis, the bishop of Norwich. Henry Despencer’s ancestors were nobility through and through. Henry, youngest of five brothers, was no gentle priest. A trained soldier, he had fought in Italy and Scotland by the time the pope appointed him a bishop. Aged about 38 in 1381, he was a hard, argumentative man – “unbridled and insolent” according to St Alban’s chronicler Thomas Walsingham.
Ripe for rebellion...
In June 1381, much of southern England was in ferment. As news of the rising in the South-East spread, East Anglia was also affected. From the North Norfolk village of Felmingham came the ‘king of the commons’. He was Geoffrey Lister – a dyer. So he was not a peasant, possibly he was a fairly well-off businessman and property owner. The rebels he led were intent on destroying property records, usually held by religious institutions. Thus property rolls at priories like Binham were seized and burned. Then the rebels marched on Norwich. Their motives are hard to gauge, as few survived to voice them after the suppression of the revolt. Certainly they were joined by some gentlemen, such as Sir Roger Bacon, of Baconsthorpe, who attacked Yarmouth – but some may have joined out of opportunism or sheer devilry as events spiralled into violence.
Did nobody oppose them?
On June 17, two days after Wat Tyler’s death at Smithfield, Norwich opened its gates to Lister’s rebels, massed on Mousehold. Why? Did he have sympathisers within the walls, was it out of fear of the consequences of resistance, a loss of nerve among the authorities? Lister seized the castle and forced four captured knights to serve him at table. The church was again a target. The nuns of Carrow, for example, had to hand over their (substantial) property deeds, which were burned. Prisoners were taken from the gentry, while members of the judiciary were singled out for vengeance. Some died; it was no wholesale massacre, but it was rough. Looting and extortion continued for a week.
Enough was enough.
With no standing police force or army, and attention focused on London, it fell to one man to take matters into his own hands. Bishop Henry Despencer was in Lincolnshire when trouble broke out; unlike many around him he kept his head. With a small force, and with no official authority, this pugnacious prelate rode north meting out bloody retribution to any rebels he apprehended. By the time he reached Norwich on June 24 the mood had changed. The ruling class, buoyed by the actions of the king in London, regained their nerve. The reaction was swift, and violent. Lister’s rebels withdrew towards North Walsham. The bishop’s army caught up with them south of the town. The rebels, many of them bowmen, fortified themselves behind wagons and carts, but were overrun after a hard fight. Perhaps their morale had dipped by then.
Time for some quick hangings...
Witnesses said the bishop let many of the rank and file go, but made an example of the leaders. Some tried to seek sanctuary in a nearby church but, as it was not yet sanctified, Despencer had no compunction in executing them. Lister initially escaped, but was quickly captured. Accounts differ as to what happened next. Some said the bishop dragged him off to be beheaded, while others say he first heard his confession, absolved him, then walked with him to his place of death. Either way, it was all over for the rebel once hailed as ‘the idol of Norfolk’. His quarters were sent to Norwich, Lynn and Yarmouth and to his home village “so that rebels, and those that rise above their place, may learn how they will end”.
What’s there now?
Bishop Henry erected three crosses to mark the event, one of which can be seen just off the Norwich road.
They are marked on Ordnance Survey Map Norfolk Coast East Explorer 252.
