CHAPTER VII

SANCTUARY

It is strange that an institution which played a large part in the social scheme of the Middle Ages should have fallen so completely into decay as to be absolutely forgotten by the people, so that there is not even a legend or a tradition of it left. The memory of Sanctuary is as clean lost and forgotten as that of Frank Pledge. Yet, three hundred years ago, the constant thought of debtor or malefactor was, that, if the worst came to the worst, he could fly to St. Martin’s or to Westminster and so escape the clink of Ludgate, or the gaol of Newgate. Even the murderer always had it in mind when justice was in pursuit of him, that there was the refuge of Sanctuary, if only he might win there, where he could be received, and could abide in safety.

Like every other ecclesiastical foundation, the right of Sanctuary was originally a beneficent and wise institution, designed by the Church for the protection of the weak, and the prevention of revenge, wild justice, violence and oppression. If a man, in those days of swift wrath and ready hand, should kill another in the madness of a moment; if by accident he should wound or maim another; if by the breaking of any law he should incur the penalties of justice; if by any action he should incur the hostility of a stronger man; if by some of the many changes and chances of fortune he should lose his worldly goods and fall into debt or bankruptcy, and so become liable to imprisonment; if he had cause to dread the displeasure of king, baron, or bishop, in all these cases the right of Sanctuary was open to him. Once on the frith-stool, once clinging to the horns of the altar, he was as safe as an Israelite within the walls of a City of Refuge: the mighty hand of the Church was over him; his enemies could not touch him on pain of excommunication.

In theory every church was a sanctuary; but it was easy to blockade a church so that the refugee could be starved into submission. If a felon took refuge in a church, it was the duty of the neighbours to watch him, until he had either surrendered, or, in presence of the proper officer, had abjured the realm. If he was allowed to escape, the parish or the Ward was fined a hundred shillings, to be paid to the King. The only real safety for a fugitive from justice or revenge was in those abbeys and places which possessed special charters and immunities. Foremost among these were the Sanctuaries of Westminster and St. Martin’s-le-Grand. Outside London, the principal sanctuaries appear to have been Beverley, Hexham, Durham, and Beaulieu. But every abbey, like every church, possessed its sanctuary as a part of its privileges. That of Westminster was, if not founded, defined and regulated by Edward the Confessor; that of St. Martin’s, the existence of which was always a scandal and an offence to the City of London, was regulated by half a dozen charters of as many kings. Its refugees were principally bankrupts, debtors, and common thieves; these as offenders against property were especially hated by a trading community.

The privilege of sanctuary was beautiful in theory. “Come to me,” said the Church, “I will keep thee in safety from the hand of violence and the arm of the law; I will give thee lodging and food; my doors shall be always open to thee, day and night; I will lead thee to repentance. Come, and in safety sit down and meditate on the sins which brought thee hither.”

The invitation was extended to all, but with certain reservations. Nor was it merely a formal invitation; sanctuary was actually sought by multitudes, but traitors, Jews, infidels, and those who had committed sacrilege, were not received. In Durham Cathedral two men slept every night in the Galilee Chapel to admit any fugitive who might ring the bell or lift the knocker. Nay, sanctuary was actually converted into a city of refuge by the setting apart of a measured space, the whole of which was to be considered sanctuary. At Hexham, where four roads met in the middle of the town, a cross was set up on every one of the roads to show where sanctuary began. At Ripon and at Beverley a circle with a radius of a mile was the limit of sanctuary. At St. Martin’s-le-Grand the precinct was accurately laid down, and jealously defended. It included many streets, and the area is now almost entirely covered by the buildings of the General Post Office. At Westminster the whole precinct of the Abbey, church, monastery buildings, close, cloisters, and gardens were sacred ground.

In _Archæologia_ (xvii. p. 198) is given the oath of sanctuary. I extract the whole passage:—

“Among the Harleian Manuscripts in the British Museum is a thin folio volume written upon vellum marked No. 4292, and containing the Register of Persons who sought sanctuary for different crimes at St. John of Beverley in Yorkshire, in the reigns of King Edward the Fourth, King Henry the Seventh, and King Henry the Eighth. The bookbinder, by whom it appears to have been rebound of later years, seems to have mixed some of the leaves, or, at least, to have put the entries of King Edward the Fourth’s time after some of those of King Henry the Seventh’s.

The greater part of the manuscript is of course confined to a list of names and crimes; but on the reverse of folio 17 is a copy of the oath taken by those who sought the peace of the place. I do not remember to have met with a sanctuary oath elsewhere. The bailiff of the town, by whom the oath was administered, is directed to inquire of the refugee ‘what man he killed, and wher with, and both ther names: and than gar hym lay his hand uppon the book, sayng on this wyse.

Sir tak hede on your oth. Ye shal be trew and feythful to my lord archbishop of York, lord off this towne, to the provest of thessame, to the chanons of this chirch, and all othir ministers’ thereof.

Also ye shall bere gude hert to the baillie and xii. governars of this town, to all burges’ and comyners of thessame.

Also ye shall bere no poynted wapen, dagger, knyfe, ne none other wapen ayenst the kyngs pece.

Also ye shal be redy at all your power if ther be any debate or stryf or other sothan case of fyre within the town to help to s’cess it.

Also ye shal be redy at the obite of Kyng Adelstan at the Dirige and the Messe at such tyme as it is done at the warnyng of the belman of the town, and do your dewte in ryngyng, and for to offer at the messe on the morne, so help you god and thies holy Evangelists.

And then gar hym kysse the Book.’”

The history of St. Martin’s-le-Grand is the history of a stalwart resistance and defence of the rights of sanctuary against the attacks of the citizens and others. For in a lawless age no rights, no privileges, no laws are obeyed. In Wat Tyler’s rebellion his followers paid no respect to sanctuary; they dragged from the very altars the tax-collectors who had hurried thither to be out of danger. Twenty years later the City itself protested against the abuses caused by the immunities of the sanctuary. But as yet the place was too strongly fortified by charters and papal bulls for any change to be effected. The King, on the other hand, took the line that it was by the negligence of the City magistrates that so many crimes were committed, and that so many claimants of sanctuary existed.

There is a story of sanctuary at St. Paul’s told by Riley (_Mem._ p. 24). It was in the 17th year of King Edward the First, and on the Day of St. George, that one Walter Bacon, a chaplain, or Parish Priest, took sanctuary in the Cathedral. Thither came, in consequence, the King’s Coroner, William le Mazeliner, the warden of the City (it was during the suspension of the Mayor’s office), John le Breton, Sir Baroncin, John de Banquelle, and other trustworthy persons. Then the Coroner, in the presence of the assembled company, demanded of the man for what reason he had taken sanctuary. Whereupon the man replied that it was because he had stolen sixteen silver dishes belonging to Sir Baroncin. The dishes being restored, the Sheriff was instructed to take charge of them in a sealed packet; and two days after the packet was opened by the Sheriff in presence of the Coroner, and the dishes were given back to the said Baroncin. What became of the chaplain is not stated.

Many examples have been preserved of those who sought safety within those walls. There is the case of one Henry who stole a signet ring, a pyx for consecrated wafers; had it ever been used he would have been debarred sanctuary for sacrilege; he also stole some money and other things. He took sanctuary, then he changed his mind and fled, leaving his stolen property behind him. The Dean’s officers seized it as a “waif” left within the soke or franchise of the College. There is, again, the case of Henry Ciprian, Canon of Waltham. He, for certain offences, took refuge at St. Martin’s. It was in the year 1430, the 9th of King Henry the Sixth. The Mayor and Sheriffs thereupon seized him and dragged him out. The Dean and Canons brought the case before the King, who ordered Ciprian to be restored to sanctuary. But the smouldering hostility of the City continued and increased. The Alderman of Aldersgate, Matthew Philip, on the imposition of a certain tax, called upon the Dean of St. Martin’s for his share, alleging that it was not a privileged place; and actually levied the money by distress. The King ordered it to be restored.

In the same year occurred the famous case of St. Martin’s-le-Grand, which, though it was decided against the City, strengthened enormously the case against sanctuary.

A certain soldier named Knight lay in prison at Newgate. His friends trumped up a case of debt against him, to answer to which he had to be taken to the Guildhall; therefore he passed the south side of St. Martin’s. Five of his friends lay in ambush in Panyer Alley, and as he passed they dragged him from the officers, and so into sanctuary, where they all remained. Surely this was an abuse of the privilege. The City thought so, evidently. The Sheriffs, Philip Malpas and Robert Marshall, with the Alderman of the Ward, the City Chamberlain, and a great multitude of people, crowded into St. Martin’s demanding the prisoners, whom the Canon refused to surrender. They therefore seized them by force, chained and manacled them, stripped them to their shirts, and led them off to Newgate. Evidently it was a case which excited the greatest indignation. The King, on receiving the complaint of the Dean, ordered the release of the prisoners by letters taken from Windsor to the Tower by Lord Huntingdon. The Mayor refused to open the letters. He said that the Tower was a privileged place outside his jurisdiction, and that he could perform no official act in it, not even the opening of a letter addressed to himself as Mayor. Lord Huntingdon then produced the King’s writ, which was received and considered in the Church of Allhallows Barking. Here, with the assistance of the City clerk, John Carpenter, they found some legal objection, which they conveyed to the King.

The matter, however, was heard in the Star Chamber. The case of the Dean was based, of course, on the Charters of the House, and on the antiquity of the privileges claimed. The case of the Sheriffs, where it did not depend upon a legal quibble, rested on the enormous inconvenience and the many mischiefs caused by the sanctuary. Thus one Stody deliberately murdered a woman, took refuge in the sanctuary, and succeeded in escaping; John Frowe, having a grudge against one Robert Dodmerton, dogged him till he was close to the gate of sanctuary, where he stabbed him in the neck, so that he died, when the murderer calmly took refuge in the sanctuary. One Lullay, a Cambridge man, did exactly the same thing in the same place. It was also argued that certain criminals in the reign of Henry the Fifth had been taken from sanctuary, that a lane of the precinct in which criminals assembled had been stopped by order of the King, and that church, precinct, and lane were all portions of the City itself. These arguments prevailed not. The Sheriffs had to give up the prisoners.

Another mischief caused by this privilege was the fabrication of counterfeit plate and jewels which was established there. The Goldsmiths’ Company, who had the right to examine all goldsmiths’ shops in the City, demanded admission to St. Martin’s Precinct in order to examine the workshops there. The Dean refused permission as a right, but invited them to come in and inspect the work. He himself went with them, and caused all bad work to be destroyed. Edward the Fourth, in a statute against fraudulent goldsmiths’ work, excepted the Precinct from its operation. It is interesting to note that makers of counterfeit plate and jewels continued in their old quarters long after the Dissolution. Thus Butler says:—

“’Tis not those paltry counterfeits French stones which in our eyes you set, But our right diamonds that inspire, And set your am’rous hearts on fire. Nor can those false St. Martin’s beads, Which on our lips you place for reds, And make us wear like Indian dames, All fuel to your scorching flames, But those, true rubies of the rock Which in the cabinets we lock.”

Perhaps the strength of St. Martin’s was best shown in the case of William Cayens. He was one of Jack Cade’s associates, and on the dispersion of the rebels he took sanctuary in St. Martin’s. The King demanded him as a traitor. The Dean took with him all his bulls and charters and pleaded the case. In the end he won it. The traitor was to remain, but to be prevented from committing any more treason. Some time after, Cayens received the King’s pardon, and was even admitted to his favour.

When the Civil Wars broke out one Oldehall, chamberlain to the Duke of York, was ordered by the King’s advisers not to leave the City of London. He fled to sanctuary, was dragged out, and was ordered to be taken back again. Up to this point the Dean had proved too strong for the City. But in the year 1455 the sanctuary men presumed so much upon their security that they formed into companies and attacked and robbed the citizens. Thereupon the Mayor and Sheriffs broke into Sanctuary and seized the ringleaders. The Dean complained, the King sent for the Mayor and his officers, but the time was not one in which the City could be made hostile, and the prisoners were not restored.

Again, in the year following, the sanctuary men took part in an attack upon the Italian merchants. The complaints were now so general and so loud that some restriction had to be imposed on the privilege. Articles were drawn up for the better regulation of the Sanctuary. They are like those already quoted from the Archives of Beverley. Thus (1) every person on entering must declare the cause of his seeking refuge. (2) No one is to carry any weapon within the Precinct. (3) That any “erraunt and open thiefe, robber, murderer and felon noised by the common fame of the people” shall find security for good behaviour both in sanctuary and for a quarter of a year afterwards, and that he be kept in ward until he has found that security. But he may depart if he pleases. (4) The gates to be shut at certain hours. (5) Stolen goods not to be taken into sanctuary. (6) If any acts of robbery or violence be committed by a sanctuary man he is to be placed in prison and kept there. But he may depart if he will (of course to find the Sheriff’s officer waiting for him). (7) Forgers, makers of counterfeit goods, pickers of locks, etc., not to be allowed in sanctuary, (8) Strumpets and all immoral persons to be kept in prison until they amend or depart. (9) Gambling—“plays at hazard, the dice, the guell, the kayelles, the cloysh”—to be forbidden in sanctuary. (10) Sundays and holy days to be kept, and (11) every person admitted to take oath that he will obey these rules.

Already, on more than one occasion, the difference between mediæval laws and mediæval practice has been remarked. What, for instance, could be better than these ordinances? Everything seems to be provided for, merciful refuge for the criminal, prison for those who commit new crimes, the practice of dishonest trades forbidden, the morality of the sanctuary protected, the place to be a House of Religion and Repentance, and not a refuge and lurking place for thieves and rogues. What happened? That the sanctuary went on just as before. There was, no doubt, some little stir at the outset: the Canons ordered their servants to exercise diligence in the maintenance of these laws: we have seen the Dean going round with the Goldsmiths’ officer; perhaps he went round with his own officers, and questioned the refugees, admonished them all, both men and women, and then departed. The decay of all the Monastic and Ecclesiastical foundations was everywhere partly due to the fact that, while the Rule remained, that part of it which demanded personal service was handed over to servants and inferior officers. The criminal who ran into the sanctuary was received by a servant, not by the Canons: he was lodged by a servant, not by the Canons; then, the food provided being humble in quality and insufficient in quantity, the refugee carried on his trade in order to get more food; probably the custom grew up, as it had grown up in the prisons of Newgate and Ludgate, of paying fees to the sanctuary officers; in return for those fees everything was permitted. Men, who lived by robbery and who were well known to be robbers; women who lived by procuring and by prostitution; sharpers, forgers, fabricators of false goods, fraudulent bankrupts, receivers of stolen goods; thieves actually took sanctuary with their stolen goods in their hands; all these people lived in security and peace: they escaped the pillory, the stocks, the agony of the whipping-post, the noisome prison, and the gallows. The City did well to protest without ceasing against the abuse of the Sanctuary.

During the civil wars St. Martin’s proved a veritable Haven of Refuge to many, including the Countess of Oxford, Morton, Bishop of Ely, and other prelates, as well as both Lords and Ladies. In St. Martin’s lived and died—“rotted away piecemeal”—Miles Forrest, one of the murderers of the young Princes. A great change was made in St. Martin’s when the College was transferred by Henry the Seventh to the Abbey of St. Peter, Westminster. The Abbot became Dean of St. Martin’s; another seal was made; the duties of the Canons were performed by Vicars.

In the year 1548 all chantries, free chapels, and brotherhoods were suppressed, St. Martin’s among them. The splendid church was pulled down; the site was speedily built over by tenements and shops and taverns. But superstition and custom reserved until a much later time some of the privileges of sanctuary both at St. Martin’s and at Westminster.

The Chronicle of the west end sanctuary is somewhat nobler.

It must be understood that the whole Precinct of the Abbey and not the Church only was the sanctuary, of which the more sacred part, of course, was the Church. But the name of sanctuary was especially given to a gloomy square pile built of ragstone, about seventy-five feet square and about sixty feet high. Outside was a round tower no higher than the building itself, which contained a stair communicating with the upper storey. There were two storeys, each of which was a chapel, the lower one being especially dark and gloomy. On the roof it appears there were sometimes erected small houses for the accommodation of refugees.

By a very remarkable omission, this interesting building is not noticed by Stow or by any later writer. Stukeley first observed it, and sketched and measured it in the year 1750 when they were taking it down.

Here is a glimpse (1556) of a sanctuary procession:—

“The vi. day of December the Abbot of Westminster went a procession with his convent: before him went all the sanctuary men with crosse keys [upon their garments] and after went iij. for murder: one, the Lord Dacre’s sone, of the Northe, was wypyd (whipped) with a shett abowt him for kyllyng of a man, master West sqwyre dwellyng besyd ... and anodur theyff that dyd long to one of master comtroller ... dyd kyll Recherd Eggyllston the comtroller’s tayller, and [killed him in] the Long Acurs, the bak-syd Charyng-crosse: and a boye [that] kyld a byge boye that sold papers and pryntyd bokes [with] horlyng of a stone and yt hym under the ere in Westmynster Hall: the boy was one of the chylderyn what was [at the] sckoll ther in the abbey: the boy was a hossear sune [hosier’s son] a-boyff London-stone.”

The whipping of Lord Dacre’s son, wrapped in a white sheet, for murder, must have been edifying. Sanctuary, therefore, was not wholly free from pains and penalties. Two months later, another man in sanctuary was whipped “before the cross” for murder.

Not always, however, were the rights of sanctuary respected. That Wat Tyler should respect them was hardly to be expected. Therefore we read without surprise how he dragged the Marshal of the Marshalsea from one of the pillars of the Confessor’s shrine, to which, as the holiest place in the church, he was clinging. But the murder of the knight Hawke in the year 1398 is a very remarkable illustration of the violence and ungovernable temper into which the men of that time could fall. There were two knights named Hawke and Shackle. In the Spanish wars of the Black Prince they had between them effected the valuable capture of a Spanish noble. He exchanged his son, a youth, for himself, a method of hostage not uncommon, and went home, leaving the two Englishmen expectant of a lordly ransom. Then, however, John of Gaunt, who claimed the throne of Spain, demanded the delivery of the young Spaniard to himself. This was refused. Thereupon he threatened imprisonment, so that the knights fled and took sanctuary at Westminster, accompanied by the captive disguised as a page or valet. It would seem as if they were pursued on their flight. At least what follows does not look like a deed done in cold blood. The two knights fled into the church as the safest part of the sanctuary. Thither they were followed by Alan Bloxhall, Constable of the Tower, Sir Ralph Ferrers, and a company of fifty men. Shackle, for his part, escaped with the page—probably into the cloisters, where he could easily be conveyed to a place of safety. But Hawke remained in the church and ran round the choir followed by his enemies. This took place actually during the celebration of High Mass. At last the wretched man fell covered with wounds in front of the Prior’s stall, that is, within the choir. After this, the Prior closed the church for four months, and caused the violators of the sanctuary to be excommunicated, as well as fining them £200 apiece—equal to nearly £3000 of our money. If sanctuary, if sacrilege meant anything at all, the abbot was bound to make as much as he could of the “factum horribile.” The unfortunate Hawke was buried in the south transept.

But there were other violations of sanctuary, as when Sir Robert Tresilian, Lord Chief Justice, was dragged out from the refuge he had sought; and when the Duke of Exeter was treated likewise: on the other hand, Henry the Seventh showed his wisdom in respecting sanctuary when Perkin Warbeck took shelter there.

And sanctuary was, as a rule, respected. When Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, went into sanctuary at Westminster, she was unmolested, and might have stayed there all her life had she chosen. Elizabeth Woodville gave birth to her elder boy, “forsaken by her friends and in great penury,” yet in safe keeping. Here she placed the child in his father’s arms on his return. A second time she fled thither when that boy, thirteen years of age, was in the hands of her enemy and in the Tower. She took with her the younger boy, but we all know what happened. Sanctuary was broken. The Archbishops gave their consent to the sacrilege even though they knew, everybody must have known, that the boys would be murdered one after the other. It was the lot of every prince or possible heir to the throne in those times to be murdered or to be slain in battle. Henry the Sixth, Prince Edward, the Duke of York, the Duke of Clarence, the Duke of Exeter, are all examples instructive enough. Yet the Archbishops yielded. Why? I think it is clear that they dreaded above all things a boy King: above all things they wanted repose for the distracted land. It was a case of choosing between the lives of two innocent boys, or fresh wars, new distractions, which? The violation of sanctuary in this case is remarkable for the opportunity it gave the Duke of Buckingham to attack the whole system of sanctuary.

“I dare well avow it, weigh the good that they do with the hurt that cometh of them, and ye shall find it much better to lack both than to have both. And this I say, although they were not abused as they now be, and so long have been, that I fear me they will ever be, while men be afraid to set their hands to the amendment: as though God and St. Peter were the patrons of ungracious living. Now unthrifts riot and run in debt upon the boldness of these places: yea, and rich men run thither with poor men’s goods. There they build, there they spend and bid their creditors go whistle for them. Men’s wives run thither with their husbands’ plate, and say they dare not abide with their husbands for beating. Thieves bring thither their stolen goods, and there live thereon. There devise they new robberies nightly to steal out, they rob, and reave, and kill, and come in again as though those places gave them not only a safeguard for the harm they have done, but a licence also to do more mischief.”

It must not be forgotten that Skelton the poet escaped the wrath of Wolsey by taking refuge in the Westminster Sanctuary, where he lived in safety and died unmolested.

In the _Italian Relations of England_ (Camden Society), probably written at the end of the fifteenth century, the author bears testimony of the same kind to the evils of sanctuary. Apparently the institution did not exist in Italy.

“The clergy are they who have the supreme sway over the country, both in peace and war. Amongst other things, they have provided that a number of sacred places in the kingdom should serve for the refuge and escape of all delinquents: and no one, were he a traitor to the crown, or had he practised against the king’s own person, can be taken out of these by force. And a villain of this kind, who, for some great excess that he has committed, has been obliged to take refuge in one of these sacred places, often goes out of it to brawl in the public streets, and then, returning to it, escapes with impunity for every fresh offence he may have been guilty of. This is no detriment to the purses of the priests, nor to the other perpetual sanctuaries: but every church is a sanctuary for 40 days: and, if a thief or a murderer who has taken refuge in one cannot leave it in safety during these 40 days, he gives notice that he wishes to leave England. In which case, being stripped to the shirt by the chief magistrate of the place, and a crucifix placed in his hand, he is conducted along the road to the sea, where, if he finds a passage, he may go with a ‘God speed you!’ But if he should not find one, he walks into the sea up to the throat, and three times asks for a passage: and this is repeated till a ship appears, which comes for him, and so he departs in safety. It is not unamusing to hear, how the women and children lament over the misfortune of these exiles, asking ‘how they can live so destitute out of England’: adding, moreover, that ‘they had better have died than go out of the world,’ as if England were the whole world!”

Henry the Seventh in 1483 procured a bull from Pope Innocent the Eighth, which allowed of malefactors being taken out of sanctuary when it was proved that they had left sanctuary in order to commit some mischief. And that if persons suspected of high treason took refuge it should be permitted to the King to station guards at the gates and elsewhere to keep them from going out. Later, in the year 1504, Henry the Seventh procured another bull permitting him to take out persons suspected of high treason. This bull would seem to allow the actual destruction of sanctuary.

The procedure in the claim of sanctuary was as follows (the statute being put up in the Custom Hall of the Cinque Ports, Dover), (_Italian Relations_):—

“And when any shall flee into the church or churchyard for felony, claiming thereof the privilege for any action of his life, the head officer of the same liberty where the said church or churchyard is, with his fellow jurats or commoners of the same liberty, shall come to him and shall ask him the cause of being there, and if he will not confess felony immediately, it shall be entered in record, and his goods and chattels shall be forfeited, and he shall tarry there forty days, or before, if he will, he shall make his abjuration in form following before the head officer, who shall assign to him the port of his passage: and after his abjuration there shall be delivered unto him by the head officer, or his assignees, a cross, and proclamation shall be made that while he be going by the highway towards the port to him assigned, he shall go in the king’s peace, and that no man shall grieve him in so doing, on pain to forfeit his goods and chattels. And the said felon shall lay his right hand on the book, and swear this:—‘You hear, Mr. Coroner, that I ... a thief, have stolen such a thing, or have killed such a woman, or man, or a child, and am the king’s felon, and for that I have done many evil deeds and felonys in this same his land, I do abjure and forswear the lands of the kings of England, and that I shall haste myself to the port of ... which you have given or assigned me: and that I shall not go out of the highway, and if I do, I will that I shall be taken as a thief, and the king’s felon, and at the same place I shall tarry but one ebb and flood, if I may have passage: and if I cannot have passage in the same place, I shall go every day into the sea to my knees and above, crying, Passage, for the love of God, and King ... his sake: and if I may not within forty days together, I shall get me again into the church, as the king’s felon. So help me God and by this book according to your judgment.’ And if a clerk flying to the church for felony, affirming himself to be a clerk, he shall not abjure the realm, but yielding himself to the laws of the realm, shall enjoy the liberties of the church, and shall be delivered to the ordinary, to be kept safe to the convict prison, according to the laudable custom of the realm of England.”