Chapter 11

Hanged by a Rope Made of Silk 1557

On the morning of Saturday 6 March, 1557, in the market place of Salisbury in Wiltshire, a peer of the realm met his end in a unique fashion. Lord Stourton was granted the distinction that his noose be made of silk rather than suffer the usual form of hanging with a halter made from hemp. It has been suggested that this might have made the process kinder as ‘the smaller the rope, the more sudden and complete is the strangulation, especially as the smoother material causes the noose to close more effectually upon the windpipe.’ If he enjoyed a more elegant end than some of those who found themselves on the gallows, it was in stark contrast to the crimes for which Stourton was executed, ones which exhibited the casual brutality of a man who considered murder as simply a convenient method of getting his own way.

Charles Stourton was a man who bore grudges. His first was towards his own father, William, the 7th Baron Stourton, who had a grand house at Stourton (now known as Stourhead) in Wiltshire and large estates across four counties. In 1539, William had written to Thomas Cromwell describing his heir as a ‘false hypocrite’ worthy of imprisonment. One of the issues of contention between them was undoubtedly that for years William had shunned his wife and Charles’ mother, Elizabeth, for the charms of another woman, Agnes ap Rhys, the daughter of an important Welsh landowner. William was primarily a military man, who spent much of his time abroad in the service of Henry VIII, comforted by Agnes.

During his time away in France in the 1540s, Stourton senior had entrusted the stewardship of his West Country estates to William Hartgill, another member of the local landed gentry. Hartgill, who resided in the neighbouring parish of Kilmington in Somerset, may have been a couple of notches down the social scale but he was relatively successful. He had served as an MP and was described as a ‘mighty, stout’ person. Elsewhere, however, he’s alleged to have been a ‘surly dogged, crosse fellowe’ who was rapacious when it came to acquiring wealth and new land for his family.

At some point towards the end of the decade relations between the 7th Baron and Hartgill became tense in disputes over property. Stourton wrote a letter to Hartgill saying that he had been given reports that ‘yowe seeke youre owne gayne more than my comodytie and honour.’ Then, in September 1548, Stourton died while still abroad, leaving a large bequest of his belongings to Agnes, incensing his son Charles, who now became the 8th Baron.

The fate of his mother now became the cause of Charles’ next big grudge. He was worried that if Elizabeth married again, some of his estates might be lost. She had been lodging at Hartgill’s house as his guest during her husband’s years abroad. Stourton asked for Hartgill’s help in persuading Elizabeth to make an agreement that she would not marry again and would give up the right to any of his lands in return for an annuity. Hartgill demanded better terms for Elizabeth and no agreement was made. Stourton was furious, though it probably hadn’t helped that he’d already sacked Hartgill from the post of steward. Stourton ‘fell utterly owt’ with the said William Hartgill and was soon seeking revenge.

On a Sunday morning, in May 1549, he and ‘a great many men with bowes and gunnes’ came to Kilmington Church where William Hartgill and family were at prayer. Being told that Stourton’s men were outside, William’s son John realised that his family would need weapons with which to defend themselves. Being ‘a tall lusty gentleman’ he rushed out of the church with his sword drawn, making for his father’s house, which was nearby. Some of Stourton’s men suddenly started firing off arrows in John’s direction, but they missed their target. Meanwhile William Hartgill, now a relatively elderly man, was forced to retreat up the church tower for his own safety along with his wife and some of their servants.

At the house John ‘toke his longe bowe and arrows … and charged a gonne.’ Getting one of the female servants to carry some of the weapons for him, he now went outside again and managed to draw off Stourton’s men, shooting one of them in the shoulder. Stourton’s party retreated and John took his chance to race into the church. He asked his father what they should do next. William said that he and the family would remain in the church tower for safety while he should make with all haste to London and tell the Privy Council ‘how I am used’. Hartgill clearly had little faith in local lawkeepers, with many of the justices of the peace effectively in Stourton’s pocket. John arranged for food and drink to be brought up to the church tower and rode off to London.

He arrived in the capital on the Monday evening and swiftly got an audience with the Privy Council, informing them what had happened. They ordered Sir Thomas Speake, the Sheriff of Somerset, to go and free the Hartgills and bring Stourton to London to answer for his actions. Speake arrived at Kilmington on the Wednesday, where he found Stourton and his men still besieging the tower, although they had let William Hartgill’s wife Joan go home. In the meantime, Stourton’s men had also stolen and shot Hartgill’s prize gelding, while the Baron put it about that the Hartgills had been poaching on his land.

Stourton was only detained briefly at the Fleet prison in London and was soon back in Wiltshire harrying the Hartgills. A contemporary account tells us that he ‘contynued his mallice’ throughout Edward’s reign and ‘with violence and force toke from the sayd William Hartgyll all the corn and catall that he could any way come bye.’ In July 1553, Queen Mary acceded to the throne and the Catholic-leaning Stourton was made Lord Lieutenant of Wiltshire, Somerset and Dorset.

Meanwhile, others suffered at the hands of Stourton, including Thomas Chaffyn, a local gentleman. His servants were assaulted, his crops stolen and his barn burned down. In fact, one observer claimed that Stourton’s ‘ryottes, robberyes and murdres … were to long to wright.’ The Hartgills, for their part, appealed to the queen for redress. Stourton was eventually ordered by the Council to give back some of the goods he had taken from them. If the Hartgills would come to his house, Stourton said, he would arrange it. The Baron had no intention of doing any such thing. On the way to Lord Stourton’s property, the Hartgills and another man were ambushed in a narrow lane by ‘six ruffians’. John Hartgill was left badly injured.

The matter now came to the Star Chamber, a body composed of senior privy councillors. The authorities were clearly beginning to find Stourton’s behaviour rather tiresome. In late 1556, he was put in the Fleet again and ordered to pay damages of more than £368 – a huge sum – to the Hartgills. He was released from prison on a surety of £2,000 and asked to reappear in January 1557 to show the money had been paid out.

Four days after arriving home Stourton sent a message to the Hartgills saying he was ready to pay up and hoped for the ‘quyeting of all matters between them.’ Given past form, the Hartgills were understandably sceptical that Stourton was genuine about ending their feud. But when he suggested that they meet on ‘home turf’ at Kilmington church to make payment they agreed.

The meeting was set for Monday 11 January. Stourton arrived at Kilmington with a huge number of servants and supporters, including friendly members of the local gentry. The sight of such a large party, around forty strong, filled the Hartgills with dread and they headed for the church. Meanwhile, Stourton took up position in the adjoining church-house, sending a message to the Hartgills that he felt the church was no place to discuss ‘worldelye matters’. A wary William Hartgill came out and stood within twenty paces of Stourton saying, ‘I see many ennemyes of myne about your Lordship and therefore I ame very moch afrayed to come anny nere.’ Eventually, it was agreed that a table should be set up in the open. The Hartgills were still cautious but Stourton appeared to place a purse of gold on the table, promising to pay every penny that the court had ordered. The Hartgills now approached Stourton but when they were near enough to grab he cried out, ‘I arrest you both for felony’. Then twelve of his men stepped forward, overpowering William and John Hartgill and violently bundling them into the church house, where Stourton quickly relieved them of their purses.

Stourton ordered his men to bind the arms of the Hartgills behind their backs. When John Hartgill protested about how he and his father were being treated Stourton gave him a ‘great blowe’ to shut him up. Going outside with his sword drawn, Stourton also struck out at John Hartgill’s wife with his spurs, ripping her hose. He then struck her ‘betwen the neck and the hedd’ with his blade. She fell to the floor and was taken away barely clinging to life.

Stourton’s two prisoners were then taken to the parsonage at Kilmington where they were kept for the rest of the day ‘withowte meate or drincke’. Stourton considered murdering his captives there and then but was persuaded otherwise by one of his men. At about one or two o’clock in the morning, the Hartgills were then moved to a farmhouse on Stourton’s estate, a couple of miles from his mansion. For the next twelve hours they were given nothing to eat or drink or any bed to lie on.

The following afternoon, Stourton sent for two justices of the peace to come and examine the Hartgills. What exactly they were alleged to have done, or what Stourton’s purpose was in having them arrested, has not been recorded. The justices advised Stourton that the prisoners should be unbound as they were not likely to be able to escape. But they were afraid of upsetting such a powerful local figure and failed to order that the pair should be immediately taken to gaol as was proper. They left, apparently with Stourton’s assurance that the Hartgills would be delivered to the prison the next day.

It’s hard to know what was going on in Stourton’s mind at this point but it appears that he now entirely resolved to kill the Hartgills. It’s possible that he had got the impression that the justices were not convinced that the Hartgills had a case to answer and even that they might turn the tables and accuse him instead. Perhaps he saw an opportunity in what the justices had said about their ties so he could now kill the Hartgills and more convincingly explain their sudden disappearance by claiming that they had escaped. In fact, as soon as the justices had left, Stourton got his men to tie the Hartgills up again.

By ten o’clock on the Tuesday evening, he had sent four handpicked servants, William Farre, Roger Gough, John Welshman and Macute Jacob to fetch the Hartgills from the farmhouse where Henry Symes was watching them. With their arms still tied behind their backs the Hartgills were brought up to the main manor house. Here, just outside the walls, they were ‘knocked in the heads with two clubbes wherewith, kneling on their hands fast bounde behind them, being at one stroke felled, they received afterward sondry strokes’ until the murderers thought them dead. Records show that Farre had struck William first and Henry Symes had then beaten John. Stourton was overseeing all this from a nearby doorway. The servants then wrapped up the Hartgills in gowns and started to carry them inside. Suddenly one of the servants tripped up on a hole and tumbled to the ground with William Hartgill, who let out a groan. In fact, neither of the Hartgills were quite dead and Symes told Stourton that they ought to be put out of their pains. Stourton, worried that some of the other occupants of the house might be woken up by the noise, agreed. William Farre then ‘tooke owte his knyfe and cut bothe their throotes.’ Stourton held a candle to help him see what he was doing. Realising the gravity of what he had done, one of the murderers now showed regret for the act saying, ‘Ah my Lorde! This is a pytiouse sight.’ Stourton reprimanded him saying that being rid of two such knaves should be considered no more than the killing of two sheep.

The bodies of the Hartgills were then thrown down into a cellar under the house which Symes and Gough had to be lowered into. Hurriedly they dug out a pit in which to bury the corpses. Stourton urged them on saying, ‘Make speede, for that the night went away.’ The Hartgills ended up entombed ‘15ft deep’. A ‘double pavement’ was placed on top of them along with shavings and sawdust to conceal signs of the burial.

All this was unknown to the family of the Hartgills who had meanwhile sent a swift appeal to the Privy Council for the immediate release of their kinsmen. The Council acted promptly, ordering Stourton to deliver his captives to the Sherriff of Somerset and to come to London to explain himself.

Within days, Stourton was locked up at the Fleet prison. Brought before the Privy Council, his fine for his former transgressions was increased to which Stourton spat back, ‘I am sorie to see that retorick doth rule where law should take place.’ The Lord Chancellor told him that he had slandered the court and promised to inform the queen of his behaviour.

Stourton was then quizzed as to the whereabouts of the Hartgills who were nowhere to be found. The lying Baron claimed to have delivered them to a constable and suggested that they must have escaped from him. The court thought it a pathetic story and, suspecting foul play, committed Stourton to the Tower where he arrived on 28 January. Soon the servants thought to have aided him were languishing there too. Acting on information from one of them, Sir Anthony Hungerford, the Sherriff of Wiltshire, ordered a search of Stourton’s property. He must have been told where to find the bodies, because the corpses of the Hartgills were soon unearthed.

On the 17 February, Stourton was brought to Westminster to hear the evidence gathered against him and was found unable to deny it. He was finally arraigned at Westminster Hall on 26 February, facing a charge of murder. Even though he had not himself done the deed, he was deemed to be equally responsible. Stourton refused to enter a plea at his trial in front of a jury made up of other peers. He probably took this course of action hoping that his family’s lands would not be confiscated. It was then pointed out to him by the Lord Chief Justice that the penalty for not answering the charge was to be ‘pressed to death’ (see page 19). Chastened, Stourton now ‘expressly acknowledged the said felony and murder and for the same placed himself in the mercy of the Queen.’

If Stourton was expecting his Papist leanings would see him granted a pardon from Mary, he was to be sorely disappointed. She appears to have lost patience with Stourton, who had been granted plenty of slack over the years for his misdemeanours. It was said that ‘since she left her friends to the law, her enemies had no reason to complain of the execution of it upon them.’ Stourton was even denied the aristocratic privilege of being beheaded. Instead he would be hanged.

On 2 March, Stourton was taken to Salisbury, back in Wiltshire, in the custody of Sir Robert Oxenbridge and guards. He made the journey on horseback ‘with his arms pinioned, and his legs tied under the horse’. The Baron was hanged in the market place four days later where he made ‘great lamentation at his death for his wilful and impious deeds’. Meanwhile, four of the servants that had helped Stourton physically carry out the murder were also taken back to Salisbury, put on trial and found guilty. At least one of them was hanged at the village of Mere, near to the scene of the murder. All were gibbeted in chains.

While the Hartgill family received a small measure of financial compensation for the deaths of William and John Hartgill, Stourton’s four year old heir, John, did not fare too badly. Most of Stourton’s property was bought back from the crown thanks to the efforts of his wife Anne, who appealed directly to Mary bemoaning the loss of her ‘loving, trew and faithfull’ husband. John Stourton swiftly became the 9th Baron Stourton.