Prison writing of the early modern period had roots that reached back through the Middle Ages

into the classical world; and it was revived and reinvented in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, to such an ex tent that it became one of Englands most characteristic cultural forms in the period. What we know about the early modern prison has been derived, not only from prison writings themselves but rather from martyrologies written by friends, families, or other interested (and therefore potentially biased) parties, and from surviving records of prison administration. However, my project deals with the prison literature that came up in England, especially from prisoners in the Tower London, that had acted as a prison among several other things in England in 16th and 17th century. The growth of printing and the book trade as well as the rise of literacy, which extended the range and dissemination of prison writing were seismic, realigning social relations across Europe. Other changes were more localparticular to England, that isand also more contingent. For example, while religious division was endemic in sixteenth-century Europe, in England circumstances created an especially bountiful harvest of prison writings. The frequent shifts in the monarchs religious allegiance ensured that there were considerable numbers of religious offenders, motivating every major religious group in the kingdom to generate its own collection of prison writings. That the Eng- lish authorities were unable to suppress religious dissent completely, unlike many of their Continental counterparts, ensured that these religious divisions endured, so that there were new generations of prison authors throughout the sixteenth and seven- teenth centuries. There are a number of reasons for the rise of prison literature. An obvious one is that a truly striking number of major early modern writersThomas More; Thomas Wyatt; Henry Howard, the Earl of Surrey; Thomas Dekker; Ben Jonson; Robert Southwell; George Chapman; and Richard Lovelace all spring readily to minddid time. Yet in writing about prison, they wrote about not only what they knew and had experienced but also what interested their patrons and their audiences. For the first time in English history, some serious thought was being given to the social purposes of imprison- ment, and a new type of prison designed to reform the prisoner, the bridewell, was created. In addition to witnessing changes in prisons themselves, the early modern era saw the revival of what became a major form of prison writing: the prison letter, which had been dormant since the days of the early Christian Church.1Other forms of prison. Two of these groups, the religious offenders and the debtors, made notable con- tributions to the growth of early modern English prison writing. Members of these groups were, unlike the general population, usually literate, and were powerfully moti- vated to write, though for different reasons. The religious offenders wished to win sympathy and even converts to their cause, and they also needed to encourage and unify their supporters on the outside. For debtors, their only hopes of release were to gain forgiveness from their creditors or alternative funding, and both of these objec- tives could often be achieved only through petitions and letters Religious and political prisoners in early modern England often enjoyed organized support, and their sympathizers smuggled their writings out of prison and disseminated them in print or manuscript, or both. Moreover, organizations require as well as provide support, and those imprisoned for political or religious reasons were often impellednot least by their supporters and sympathizersto write, politically, polemically, or pastorally from prison. The ways in which society perceived prisoners in early modern England were radically different from the ways in which they tend to be perceived in the English-speaking world today. When crime was perceived

as a trespass against the divine order, the criminal was usually seen as a sin- ner, inherently no different from the other members of society, since all human beings are sinners. In this model, the primary purpose of punishment was to bring the sinner to repentance and, in doing so, to provide an edifying example of the workings of sin, penitence, and grace.10 The use of the criminal as a warning to others further lessened the moral distance between the criminal and society, as he or she exemplified the temptations into which anyone could fall and the moral weaknesses to which anyone could succumb. Moreover, this conception provided a model by which prisoners perceived their confinement as a religious trial ordained by God for the purification of their souls And important manifestations of the modern view of crime as a social offense appeared in the midsixteenth century, with the creation of houses of correction. In the wake of the English Reformation, attitudes toward the poor shifted, with poverty linked to moral failings and the poor seen as a threat to the social order.12 This in turn provided the foundation for the perception originating in the sixteenth century, dominant by the mid-eighteenth century, and still with us todaythat crime is largely caused by the poor.13 If poverty was the result of character flaws, and if the poor were a threat to society, then it was a social necessity to provide places where the poor (particularly vagrants, but also those who were rebel- lious or refractory) could be educated out of their wicked ways and trained to be pro- ductive members of society. It would be a mistake, however, to assume that the experience of early modern incar- ceration was free from shame or disgrace. As Jerome de Groot observes, early modern literature portrayed prisons as sites of perversity and wickedness and prisoners in gen- eral as being mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Imprisonment led to a notoriety that was, at best, a badge of failure. Admittedly prisoners couldand didclaim a spiritual authority by virtue of their incarceration. the possible destruction of reputation in- herent in any incarceration must have created enough psychological discomfort to appease all but their worst enemies. After all, the model of the penitent sinner is not particularly compatible with upper-class pride, and the perception of the prisoner as an Everyman, subject to sin and temptation, runs directly counter to an aristocratic sense of elite identity. Moreover, while honor was a particular concern of the upper classes, it was not their concern alone. Women and individuals of the middling sort were also vulnera- ble. For an early modern woman of any rank, maintaining a reputation for modesty and obedience was paramount, as such a reputation greatly advanced her prospects of marriage or re-marriage and thus her opportunities for economic and social advance a stint in prison could destroy a womans reputation for either chastity or obedience. The other vulnerable group comprised those whose economic survival depended on the ability to obtain credit such as tradesmen, merchants, and even householders. For these individuals, creditworthiness was a function of their moral character as well as their economic worth. The borrower had to have a reputation for honesty, sobriety, and trustworthiness, and all of this could be irretrievably shattered by imprisonment, including of course imprisonment for debt.21 Apart from the disgrace of being incarcerated, imprisonment itself entailed fur- ther humiliation and degradation. For one thing, it meant subjection to the whims and moods of the jailers It was obviously essential for the very existence of prison writing that written works be smuggled out of prison. Fortunately, in early modern England this was well within the realm of possibility. The greatest single cause of this permeability was that almost all of the prison staff, from governors to turnkeys, purchased their positions, and they expected to recoup their investments, not from salaries but from the prisoners in their custody. There were obvious disad- vantages to this system, but from the governments

viewpoint it had one overriding ad- vantage: it allowed the authorities to maintain an extensive network of prisons at minimal expense. Nevertheless, this system undermined the security of the prisons in two crucial ways. The first was that payment by prisoners to jailers was built into the system, with the result that almost anything could be brought into the prison by those who had suf- ficient funds. When Stephen Vallenger, imprisoned in the Fleet for his role in printing Catholic literature, died, an inventory of his possessions listed, among other things, a feather bed, silver and pewter spoons, money, jewelry, and a library of 101 books Security was also compromised by the presence of servants in the prison. Any- one of at least middling status in early modern England had servants, and when mas- ters and mistresses were imprisoned, they usually took some of their servants inside with them. These servants and employees were tolerated be- cause they created further opportunities for profit for the jailerstheir room and board was paid by their employersbut their ability to act as intermediaries between prisoners and the outside world made it even more difficult to restrict the dissemi- nation of works written in prison.26 Another consequence of the purchase of prison offices was that it was very diffi- cult to discharge jailers or governors. The prisons were run by people who might be dangerously sympathetic to certain classes of prisoners, and the government could do little about it Nevertheless, a picture of early modern prisons as cultural or educational sites can easily be too idyllic. Apart from the very real possibility that prisoners who wished to write would simply not survive, there was also the difficulty of obtaining the necessary writing ma- terials. In certain prisons or for certain prisoners, acquiring these materials posed a challenge. Pens and ink, or substitutes for them, could be improvised. But finding a supply of paper represented a greater problem At other times, materials could be obtained without great difficulty. This under- scores a point that needs to be emphasized in any discussion involving early modern prisons: conditions varied greatly. In some cases, authorities were concerned enough about a prisoners writings to make a real effort to suppress them. Cells and prisoners were on occasion searched for writings or for contraband paper, pen, and ink.38 Occa- sionally the authorities were vigilant enough to arrest those attempting to smuggle writings out of prison. More insidiously, letters written in prison were always partic- ularly vulnerable to interception, as the Babington conspirators eventually discov- ered.40 John Gerard explained to one of his correspondents that he wrote in orange juicewhich could only be read when held near heatso that his correspondent would know if the letter had been intercepted and read. Suppression was often effective, but could not be sustained in the longer term because such measures worked in direct opposition to the system of fees and bribes essential to the running of the prisons.

Prisons became far more crowded in the Civil War years. After 1646, many more royalists were kept under house or real arrest, some were kept under close siege throughout the first civil war while others went into imposed exile, and still more went underground, plotting and keeping to the fringes in order to help their cause. Prison was also the site for the fomentation of rebellion and of loyalist conspiracy, as demonstrated in the case of Sir Henry Slingsby, who attempted to organize an uprising from Hull prison in 1655 Being a prisoner during the period, though, did not necessarily involve such unpleasantness, and the physical confines could be surprisingly permeable. Royalist suspects were often simply monitored,36 and

prisoners who were not bailed were allowed enormous latitude in the provinces, unless they overstepped the mark. prison was central to the cultural imagination in a way that it had not been previously. The sheer number of prisoners, as noted above, suggests that the ex perience of prison had become much more commonplace, while the varying re- sponses to it suggest its importance and complexity. Prison writing signified, further- more, that basic matters such as selfhood, community, loyalty, and legal identity were in a state of flux Tudor prison administration have demonstrated, conditions in different prisons, and even the conditions within a single prison, could vary widely due to the self-supporting nature of these institutions. Sen McConville argues that, during the Tudor period, the criterion for success in gaol management was not. . . the reform of criminal offenders, but quite simply the ability of the gaol to prevent escapes: to keep suspects and rebels on remand until somebody decided what to do with them.8 Beyond this, the governors and jailers of particular prisons had a great deal of control over how prisoners were treated this essay will explore the range of clever tricks employed by prisoners during the reigns of Henry VIII, Edward VI, and Mary I. I use text in the broadest sense of the word: I will begin by examining the graffiti left behind in the Tower. To modern viewers, graf- fiti might appear to be the ultimate act of dispossession: like marginal annotations in books, graffiti resist publication (or reproduction by other means) and thus pose no ostensible threat to the authorities. What the graffito does, however, in its most basic form, is to provide the prisoner with a defense against obscurity (the ultimate form of suppression) I will turn to inscriptions made by Edward Seymour and Lady Jane Grey in the margins and blank pages of manuscripts and printed books that they had in prison with them. In the third section of this essay, to provide a direct contrast to these marginal works, I will examine the prison writings of Thomas More. Despite being produced in the confines of a prison cell, his works seem to resist the label of tricks of the weak. This, I will argue, is a testament to the success of his tactics. While the writings made by the graffitists, Seymour, and Grey work within the system prescribed by their penal locationpracticing their cells as spaces for piety and sites of writingMore produces writings that transcend the sys- tem by eschewing the particularity of prison production. The Tower of London houses an extensive collection of early modern graffiti. In his recent catalogue of this graffiti, Brian Harrison records well over three hundred entries.16 But, even knowing this figure, it is difficult to comprehend the real extent of the inscriptions, because some monograms have been left unnumbered, while others have been grouped together under one entry.17Many do not bear dates, but by counting those that do and those made by identifiable figures, we can tell that at least seventy- four of the entries date from the sixteenth century. more creative example of this self-naming graffiti is that made by Thomas Abell, a Catholic priest imprisoned first for a short period in 1532, and then again from 1534 until 30 July 1540, when he was executed alongside Edward Powell and Richard Fetherston. He signed himself by writing the name Thomas above a picture of a bell with the letter A in it. there is a small category of graffiti comprising short sentences of wis- dom or devotion. For, in its impetus toward naming, it seems clear that Reformation prison graffiti should be viewed in the terms that she eschews: as the mark of a human subjectivity that survives and protests its own radical dispossession. First, the in- scription of the name, whether it is a simple monogram, a complex rebus, or

attached to a sentence of wisdom, is intrinsically an assertion of human subjectivity. Second, all the extant Tower graffiti were clearly made to survive because in contrast to domes- tic graffiti, which were made in ephemeral materials such as chalk, charcoal, marking stone, smoke, or blood, and scratched rather than chiseledthe names were carved. Third, and most importantly, prison graffitists are dispossessed, for they have been ousted both from their homes and from positions of power. This does not devalue the status of the graffiti described above; rather, it demonstrates that self-naming graffiti shares the qualities of de Certeaus tactic. We can therefore understand that the sig- nificance of this graffiti does not inhere in its content alone, but in the relationship be- tween the name inscribed and the context in which it was recorded. The majority of the names that we see in the Tower of London dating from the middle years of the sixteenth century share one main feature: the individuals they memorialize fell from a position of social or political power. During this period, the Tower tended to house political and religious prisoners as opposed to common crimi- nals, meaning that many of its inhabitants had once been members of the very power structures that subsequently overcame them In his recent study of marginalia and other byproducts of the consump- tion of books, William Sherman has asserted that marginal annotations might be considered graffiti too. In parallel with Flemings argument that words in this pe- riod escaped the page and took the form of poesies on walls, rings, and pots, he demonstrates that such texts were also inscribed in the blank spaces within the covers of books. During her incarceration, Lady Jane Grey used blank spaces in her New Testament and prayer book to write to members of her family and to Sir John Bridges, then lieutenant of the Tower. Of all the marginalia written within prison walls, maybe the most famous are those written by Thomas More in his prayer book, a volume made up of a Book of Hours and a liturgical Latin psalter

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