Over 500 years ago, a dispute between the church and Bristol’s city fathers resulted in a large and unseemly brawl. Eugene Byrne tries to piece together the story of the battle of College Green…
College Green has long been an important place in Bristol for public meetings, civic events, political and religious gatherings or just a place where you can sit out in the sun.
And it has a lot of history, from the Middle Ages onwards. It was even the site of a huge fight – you might even call it a battle – 530 years ago this month.
As to how and why the violence broke out, think of it as a footnote in the Wars of the Roses and Henry VII’s desperate need for money.
King Henry VII isn’t generally seen as one of the more interesting English monarchs. Certainly not by comparison to his son Henry VIII or granddaughter Elizabeth I. His was a reign in which we think that nothing much happened.
This is undoubtedly how Henry would have liked it, but it really wasn’t like that. He had seized the crown after defeating Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485, and what could be taken by force could just as easily be taken away by force.
It might be that you half-remember names like Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck from long-ago school history lessons; two separate individuals who threatened Henry’s rule.
Simnel was got up to pretend he was one of the Princes that Richard III had allegedly had murdered in the Tower and ended his days working in the royal kitchens. Warbeck was another impostor-prince who became the figurehead of a huge rebellion and ended up being hanged.
Both pretenders had backing from powerful and wealthy noblemen who posed a constant threat to Henry’s rule. He knew that he and his family could never be safe, and to be safe he needed money – money to buy support, money to pay soldiers. Consequently his reign would become forever associated with taxes.
Bristol, like everywhere else, felt the squeeze. Aside from outright taxation, Henry also invited “benevolences” – gifts that were supposed to be given freely but which were, in effect, extorted.
For all our fine talk about constitutional precedents and the rule of law, it helps to think of most of the world’s rulers in the past as being no different from gangsters. Indeed, many are the same today.
In 1490 Henry visited Bristol, staying at St Augustine’s Abbey – what’s now Bristol Cathedral – in order to collect a benevolence. Bristol at the time was doing well not just from trade with France, but with Spain and Portugal as well. Henry doubtless saw a chance to mulct a sizeable sum from the leading citizens.
St Augustine’s Abbey, nowadays Bristol Cathedral(Image: Copyright Unknown – Public Domain)
They, of course, pleaded poverty, claiming that trading conditions were difficult, which they were not. When they all turned out to greet the King, he noted that their wives and daughters – who naturally had turned up in their finest clothing to look their best for royalty – were so richly dressed that the place was obviously doing very well.
So he demanded an extravagant show of loyalty from Bristol, and got it. He left richer by around £1,800 – an immense sum. And that was just a gift. The regular taxation kept on coming.
Meanwhile, the abbot of St Augustine’s, John Newland (known as “Nail Heart” from his rebus of a heart pierced by three nails – a symbol of Christ’s Passion) claimed that his abbey was exempt from having to contribute to Bristol’s taxes.
Newland’s “Nail Heart” rebus(Image: Eugene Byrne)
In a further attempt to free his institution from the control of Bristol he asserted that the abbey and its cemetery – nowadays College Green – had the right of sanctuary. That is, the laws of Bristol did not apply there.
This dispute between Bristol and the Abbey had rumbled on for some time but in May 1496 government officials ruled that Bristol did indeed have control of College Green and that it had the right to hold court hearings there. But profits from these courts should be shared with the abbey.
This was a partial victory for Bristol and the mayor, William Regent, led a civic procession to the Green on June 10 to assert his claim and to hold an “assize of bread”, a routine check to ensure that bakers were selling bread of the right weight and quality.
However, not long before this, two of the mayor’s men named Henshaw and Brewer, had tried to arrest a suspected criminal named Dominick Arthur. They had spotted him on the Green and grabbed him by his gown or cloak. But he slipped out of it and ran. He reached the Abbey gate and slammed it shut behind him. Brewer was just behind him and got involved in a scuffle with some men (probably not actual monks) who were servants of the Abbey.
Afterwards, Brewer said they held him captive for an hour and threatened him with knives. Their version of the story was they’d invited him in for a few beers and he had left on very friendly terms.
Meanwhile, Henshaw ran towards the mayor’s party, which was now parading up towards the Abbey in all its pomp, complete with the sword-bearer, the sheriff, various other officials and the Bakers Guild officials. There were maybe 30 men, and all being watched by the townsfolk who had turned up to see the pomp, but were now staying for the showdown.
The abbey men came out to meet the mayor’s party – there were monks, plus servants, some of the tenants of abbey land, and workmen who’d been working on the Abbey church.
Afterwards, both sides claimed that the other lot had started it.
In any event, there was a big brawl, involving spears, stones, sticks, pole-axes and more. The mayor was seen to be swinging the ceremonial sword around his head and shouting.
His supporters later claimed he was yelling “Keep the peace!” repeatedly.
The abbot’s supporters said he was shouting: “Now play we the men”, that is he was telling his people to fight.
We know nothing of the casualties, or if anyone died, though it was noted that some of the houses around the Green were damaged.
How it ended is unclear, though we are told that several of the townsmen, who had originally gathered to watch the fun, were outraged when they saw that the mayor was in danger and weighed in on his side. They also threatened to burn the abbey down.
At some point, Abbot Newland came out and some sort of truce was agreed. Both the mayor and the abbot now went off to check the bread.
The riot was later investigated by royal officials, though we don’t seem to have any record of what happened.
The Tomb of Abbot John Newland, Bristol Cathedral. He came off worse in a dispute with Bristol’s civic leaders(Image: Eugene Byrne)
The following year there was a major uprising in the South West, the so-called Cornish Rebellion, largely prompted by taxation. Bristol, however, shut its gates to the rebels and was later rewarded for its loyalty by the King who granted a charter giving the mayor and corporation even more powers. As ever, being on the right side was good for business, even if the profits were liable to heavy taxation by a king who could never sleep easy.
The Abbey became Bristol Cathedral following the reformation under Henry’s son, and it still owns College Green today.